Chapter 155: Foot Massage Parlor

The students' patriotic protest didn't affect Deputy Bureau Chief Fu and his brothers' eating and drinking in the slightest. I sat at the end of the table, and everyone came to toast me, raising their glasses and shouting that as long as I, Chen Feng, needed them, they would absolutely be loyal and shed blood.

After the meal, several people were slumped in the private room. Deputy Bureau Chief Fu was, after all, a bureau chief, the type who wouldn't move even if the wind blew. Looking at his slumped brothers, he waved his hand and said, "Let's go, everyone go get a foot massage to sober up."

Hengyue City had a chain of foot massage parlors, said to have the best service, with technicians who were all young girls and young wives.

Deputy Bureau Chief Fu was clearly a regular. As soon as we entered the door, a slick-looking manager came out to greet us and personally took us to the private rooms. Two people to a room; when it was my turn, I was actually alone. Deputy Bureau Chief Fu laughed and said, "Chen Feng, I'll give you a chance, alone, don't waste it."

I said, "Why don't we switch? I still like being with people."

Deputy Bureau Chief Fu waved his hand and said, "It's your first time here; a crowded place isn't suitable for you to perform. You'd better be alone." He lowered his voice and said to me, "Foot massages here are on the house. Don't worry about it."

I followed the manager to a small room with no windows, a beige light shining on the ceiling. A sofa that could be lowered into a bed, a TV, and a mass-produced oil painting hanging on the wall.

The air conditioning was on high, hissing with cold air. As soon as I entered, I was so cold that goosebumps broke out all over my body. The manager smiled apologetically, adjusted the temperature, and asked me, "Does the leader have a familiar technician?"

I shook my head to indicate no, walked to the sofa, and lay down, immediately wrapped in a layer of warmth.

"Should I arrange one for the leader?" The manager stood by the door and walked to the TV to turn it on.

I nodded, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. The alcohol from just now began to slowly surge up; my head felt a bit dizzy, and my stomach felt empty.

The manager went out, and not long after, there was a knock on the door. Before I could speak, the door was pushed open, and a pretty young wife entered.

She stood before me with a smile and asked softly, "I'll serve you, okay?"

I opened my eyes, fiddled with the TV remote, and said, "Whatever."

She turned around to close the door, turned off the light on the ceiling, and pressed the light on the wall. The room was covered in a layer of pink light, hazy and misty, making one feel as if they were in an illusory world.

She walked over gracefully, bent down, and pulled out a chair in front of my legs.

She pursed her lips and smiled, not speaking, dragged a wooden basin from under the sofa, stood up, and said to me, "I'll go get some water."

Before long, she came in with a steaming basin of water, which had a scent of herbal medicine, very pleasant.

She placed the water by my feet, knelt halfway, lifted my feet, took off my shoes and socks, scooped a little water from the basin with her hand, sprinkled it on the back of my feet, and asked me, "Is it hot?"

I shook my head and said, "Not hot."

I felt my voice trembling. I quickly adjusted my tone and said, "Very good."

She lowered her head, slowly immersed my feet in the water, stood up, washed her hands in another basin, wiped them dry with a towel, walked to my side, and said gently, "Soak for a while first; I'll massage your head."

She lowered the sofa, went behind me, lifted my head, and stuffed a pillow in.

She applied a little force to my temples, and it hurt so much I almost cried out. She seemed to sense it, stopped her hands, and asked me softly, "Does it hurt?"

I said, "It's fine."

I asked, "What's your name?"

She said indifferently, "You can call me Xiao Hong, or you can just call me number 88."

I opened my eyes and stared at the badge on her chest; it was indeed number 88. I said, "I'm asking for your name."

She pursed her lips and smiled again, saying, "There's no need to ask for a name. Working in this place, who would say their real name? I just pick a name at random; how would you know if it's fake?"

I smiled and said, "That's true. However, such a good badge number, I'm afraid only the best technician in your shop can have it."

She smiled lightly and said, "All the badge numbers in our shop have an 8, from number 8 to number 188. There isn't a single other number."

"Why do they all have to have an 8?" I asked, a very childish question.

Sure enough, she laughed until she shook.

"Isn't it because you bosses like it? Who doesn't like 8? 8 means prosperity, what a lucky number." She got off the sofa, picked up one of my arms, and began to knead.

"Originally, the last digit of our shop's badge numbers was 3. The boss said, 'One gives birth to two, two gives birth to three, three gives birth to all things.' Later, a boss who did construction came and said that although the number 3 has vitality, it's not as practical as 8. The boss changed it according to his wishes. Actually, in my opinion, they are all the same. 3 is good, 8 is good; it's just a number. Don't you agree?"

I said, "Indeed, they are the same."

She put down my hand, squatted by the water basin to test the temperature, took a small stool and sat opposite me, lifted my feet from the water, wiped them dry with a towel, and slowly rubbed them.

"The boss who asked to change the name hasn't been here for a long time. Every time he came, I served him," she said, "He was a good person, always gave tips, and didn't let others know."

She smiled triumphantly, "He gave me at least this much." She gestured with her hand; I didn't know if it was 500 or 5,000.

"He even said he wanted to marry me," she giggled, "If it weren't for the fact that I thought he was too old, I would have really wanted to marry him."

"Didn't he have a wife?" I asked, not very creatively.

"She died," she said, "His son is about the same age as me. I thought, letting a man the same age as me call me 'mother,' I don't know if he couldn't say it, or if I wouldn't dare to answer. How would life go on?"

"His surname is Qian, right?" I said, taking out a cigarette, preparing to light it.

She looked up in surprise and said, "Yes, do you know him?"

I shook my head and said, "I don't know him, I've just heard of him."

She smiled in relief and said, "Boss Qian is really rich. I heard they are building an expressway there now, and all the land in a village has been acquired."

"Sigh," she sighed and said, "If I had known this, it wouldn't have been bad to marry him back then."

"There's still a chance now," I said, my heart pounding. Qian Youyu, you bastard, leaving feelings everywhere, an old ox wanting to eat tender grass, you deserve to die!

"No chance," she said, "A while ago, I heard from a little sister of mine that he met a female cadre, beautiful and capable. How could he still look at us?"

She finished washing one of my feet, wrapped it in a towel, put it aside, and changed to the other.

"Opportunities are fought for by oneself," I encouraged her, though I didn't mean it.

"I have a family, a husband, and children. I don't want to break up a family," she returned to her indifferent look.

"Your thinking is correct," I said, very affirmatively.

"I heard Boss Qian is going to start a factory," she giggled, "He was originally a peasant, then became a construction foreman and made a fortune. To tell you the truth, my husband worked on his construction site. This person isn't stingy; he's good to the workers and never deducts wages."

"Does he know your husband worked on his construction site?"

"I didn't tell him. We are not related; why should I tell him?"

I kept my mouth shut and began to feign sleep.

After a long while, she put down my feet, stood up, and said, "Washed. There's still time; I'll massage you some more."

I pulled back my legs, feeling a cool sensation under my feet, very comfortable and pleasant.

"Where should I massage?" she asked me, sitting on the armrest of the sofa, her breath like an orchid.

I said, "Whatever. Just to pass the time."

"You rest, I'll massage you." ===== CHAPTER 156 =====