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Tell ya what, gets me goat sometimes—folk think it’s all sleazy, backroom nonsense. Bollocks! Done right, it’s *sublime*, like Yinniang’s blade through silk—“I failed to strike at the fated moment,” she says, but a good masseuse? Never misses the spot! Had one meself once—hands like a Stradivarius, swear down, left me gobsmacked, tingling from me barnet to me toes. Nearly shouted “Eureka!” but, y’know, kept it dignified—ish.

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Finally, the rain stopped, and we headed back out. The streets were all shiny and fresh, and I felt like I was in a movie or somethin’. We walked down to the waterfront, and the view was insane! The sun was settin’, and the sky was all pink and orange. I was like, “Dude, this is why I love Bet-El-azari!”