Back at the hotel, I took a hot bath. The autumn weather was dry, with lots of dust in the air. Every time I went out, I ended up covered in a layer of dirt.

They say it will be windy tomorrow. I don't really like going out in windy weather. I prefer staying in my room, watching movies, surfing the internet, and snacking.

I don't have MSN, just an instant messaging software set up by the company, similar to MSN. But I rarely use it when I'm free. There are only a few people on there - L, the IT guy, the administrator, and H.

My biggest joy online was the once-popular voice chat rooms. I never spoke, my joy was just listening to them argue with each other.

The way those people insulted each other was so clever, like they had pre-written scripts. It was so entertaining to listen to.

When L called, I was laughing. L asked why I was so happy, wondering if someone had died accidentally. I said no, it was because there was a girl in the chat room who was really good at insulting people.

L teased me about chatting with people online and warned me about getting into an online romance. I told her I always just listened and never talked.

L never asked about my plans or schedule before taking action because it wasn't allowed. She always managed the balance between work and personal life well, which I admired.

She asked about City B. I said there was nothing special, just cold. My shoulder felt like it caught a chill, and it was quite painful.

L suggested seeing a traditional Chinese medicine practitioner for a massage to not let it affect my work. I declined, saying I wasn't that delicate.

After hanging up, I continued listening to the chat room banter when the doorbell rang.

I didn't ask anyone to come up, nor was anyone supposed to visit me. My heart skipped a beat.

I walked quietly to the door, gun pointing at it, peeking through the peephole to see a woman standing outside.

I didn't say anything because if it was a malicious visitor, they would either force their way in or pick the lock. Their actions and expressions would be different from a regular visitor.

The woman outside rang the doorbell a few more times, muttering, "Damn it! Playing tricks on me, how irritating! No one's in, why call for a massage service!"

Seemed like she wasn't a malicious visitor. I hid the gun, rubbed my eyes, and opened the door, asking her who she was looking for. Seeing someone inside, her expression changed professionally, "Sir, hello, I'm from the hotel's beauty department. Did you book a massage package?"

I immediately thought of L; it must have been her order.

I said, "Oh, that's me who booked it. I fell asleep earlier and didn't hear you, sorry." Then I let her in.

She was wearing a white tracksuit, carrying a set of cosmetics in her hand.

I asked if the beauty department also provided traditional Chinese medicine massage. She said they did; their services were quite diverse, offering Hong Kong style, Japanese style, Thai style...

I interrupted, "Alright, alright, let's just go with what I booked earlier. My shoulder isn't feeling great, my right arm is uncomfortable." She agreed and asked to change her clothes first and borrow my restroom.

I was puzzled; she was here to give me a massage, why did she need to change clothes?

When she came out, she was wearing a shiny golden short dress.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

It suddenly dawned on me what kind of masseuse she was. Normally, professional masseuses wore tracksuits, but this woman was extreme - either very normal or very unconventional.

Before I could say anything, she spoke, "The boss told me I can chat with customers but not ask them questions. Mysterious, right? Come, lie on the bed."

I hesitated, "Wait a minute, miss. How can you massage dressed like this? Can you even massage?"

She replied, "Why not? We've had training for this."

I remarked, "You don't look like it. Do all masseuses dress like this?"

She explained, "No, only for massages. If it includes other services, I change."

I asked, "What service did I ask for?"

"It's not your request, a friend booked for you."

"What did they book?"

"The Emperor's package, everything except foot massage."

"How much is that?"

"668, deducted from your room deposit."

"Oh, so I only get a massage? My shoulder's the issue."

"Sorry, no refunds."

"It's fine, I'll pay."

"Okay."

"Change back to your clothes; it's awkward like this."

As she walked to the restroom, she turned back and asked with a smile, "Are you into men?"

I chuckled, "No, not interested in that."

"Oh, I thought your friend was playing a prank on you."

"That's true, she's indeed messing with me."

She returned from changing clothes, saying, "If every customer were like you, my job would be so much easier."

Aside from scam artists, I don't discriminate against any profession. We all earn our living through hard work, no distinction between high and low. But I really wasn't interested in this service staff.

Her technique was decent, hitting the pressure points right.

I lay back on the chair watching a movie, she sat on the edge of the bed behind me, massaging and watching the movie. Her occasional loud laughter startled me.

I remarked, "You can massage well, why not just stick to being a masseuse?"

She sighed, "How much can I earn just massaging? I need to pay rent, buy clothes, eat, send money home. Massage income isn't enough. Oh, by the way, if someone calls for feedback after I leave, don't say I only massaged you; otherwise, I won't get the full payment."

"Got it."

"How old are you this year? You don't look old, living in this hotel, must be rich, doing big business?" the staff inquired.

I casually replied, "Just working, not rich. Company covers this."

"What do you do then?" she continued.

I randomly answered, "Import and export of pork."

"Selling to foreigners? Which foreigners?" she was curious.

I fabricated, "All kinds."

"Why are you here if this isn't a foreign country?" she persisted.

I had enough, "If you ask one more time, I'll tell your people you only massaged me. Keep quiet and watch your movie."

Just then, L called: "How's it going? Are you satisfied with the service?"

"I'm beyond satisfied, you know me well. This girl is not bad at all, thanks." I said with a smirk.

The masseuse behind me chuckled.

"Huh? What do you mean? What girl?" L pretended not to understand.

"What are you pretending not to know about the girl you arranged for me?" I retorted to L.

"I arranged a regular massage for you, let them send a better technician up for you." L continued to feign ignorance.

"You're so naive, L. How many legitimate massage places are there in hotels nowadays? You're so innocent, but I don't care anymore, anything goes." I said with a wry smile to L.

"You, you haven't given in, have you?"

What do you think?

Oh, disgusting, I won't talk to you anymore! Enjoy yourself!

At that moment, the woman behind me said loudly, "He's a good person! Don't talk about him like that!"

L heard and said, "You didn't do anything, did you?"

I said, "I just had her massage my shoulders."

L's tone changed, "Do whatever you want, it's none of my business. By the way, your son hasn't pooped for two days, what's going on?"

"It's okay, you can find phenolphthalein tablets in my desk drawer, crush them up and mix them into his cat food."

After hanging up, the staff asked me, "Was that your wife just now? You're so young to have a son. Does your son eat cat food?"

After saying that, she chuckled.

Apart from L, I rarely talk this much with people, but it felt good. If you keep your mouth shut for too long, you'll slowly forget how to talk.

About an hour later, the staff left, leaving me a phone number and saying I was a good person. If I needed help in City B, I could reach out to her. She couldn't do much else, but she could be a tour guide.

I had the urge to give her money, but decided against it after some thought.

Just as I escorted her out, the administrator called to correct a message. Originally, they told me A's schedule was off for the day after tomorrow, but it's actually tomorrow. The rest of the schedule remained unchanged.

The administrator didn't know that the final decision I made for the time and place was actually X location the day after tomorrow, so they just mentioned it briefly and hung up. I cursed, "Oh my goodness, it's going to be windy tomorrow!"