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Once upon a time, In novels, on television, and in stories passed on from unknown sources, I learned about the various troubles people face in matters of love and relationships. Back then, I was indifferent, as I had no concept of love between a man and a woman.
What I didn’t realize was that the entire society revolves around the dynamics of such relationships.
Falling in love with someone naturally brings about strong attachment and possessiveness. In Kunming, this is precisely what happened between Z.H. and me. Today, I want to share our story.
In September 2024, my travels brought me from Mile to Kunming. The last time I was in Kunming was in December of last year and early this year. I remember spending this New Year’s Day with a female masseuse from Zhaotong in a massage room. She massaged me while we chatted in a relaxed atmosphere, the magnetic energy between the opposite sexes filling the room.
That was the second time I visited her.
Kunming left a great impression on me—low-hanging clouds, blue skies, clean air, and, of course, the lovely faces with distinct regional features.
Thus, a year later, I wanted to return to Kunming and experience it again.
But that’s just the overall impression. The operation of a city requires a large amount of work at the grassroots level. I couldn’t just focus on its glamorous side; I also needed to acknowledge its dirtiness and ugliness.
After staying for a few days at a hotel near the university district, I felt like going for a massage. To be honest, the massage itself was secondary. What mattered more was chatting with the therapists. I was too lonely. However, there weren’t many massage parlors near the hotel. I searched on the map and pinpointed one called Hua Qian Fang. I booked a room in the same building upstairs, and that evening, I went downstairs and entered the shop.
I asked for a soft massage.
I was led into a room. The staff brought me tea and clothes and told me to wait for the therapist. Every time I waited, I felt nervous, hoping for a woman who would meet my expectations to walk in. Shortly after, there was a knock on the door, and she came in—carrying a suitcase, wearing high heels, a JK-style uniform, and looking like a mature woman. She had her hair tied in a high fountain ponytail, chewed gum, and her tone was somewhat cold.
Following the shop’s procedures, she bowed slightly, greeted the guest, and reported her work ID—999.
Later, I found out her name was Z.H..
She came from a mountain village in Lincang. On the map, she pointed out her house. Many years ago, she moved to Kunming and had a few boyfriends. According to her, the most recent one—let’s call him A—was very popular with women and often dined with various ladies. Initially, A would take her along, but she felt jealous and expressed her feelings. On one occasion, A left her alone in a hotel while he went out to dine with friends, claiming it was for business. She later found out that A had been meeting several women, which made her very angry. However, she was not good at expressing her anger. After many such incidents, she eventually decided to leave him. But A wouldn’t let go and persistently sought her out. Frustrated, she left Kunming and hid in Chuxiong. For some time, A kept contacting her, apologizing, but she had made up her mind. Tired of his messages and calls, she blocked him, and when he used his friends’ phones to reach her, she blocked those too.
During this period, she had accumulated a massive amount of debt. For some time, she received dozens of collection calls daily, feeling immense pressure and living in constant fear. She needed to figure out how to pay off her debts. It wasn’t until last year that she finally cleared them.
This was her direct reason for entering the massage industry.
The industry that serves men is relatively lucrative, but she had to pay a price—even if it was hard for her to accept initially.
Her first job was at a shop in the Guandu Ancient Town area. A few days ago, while we were shopping and passed by the now-closed shop, she fondly shared her stories about it.
“The first floor was foot massages, the second floor was… and the third floor offered full massages,” she said.
“You only did foot massages at that time?” I asked.
“Yeah, just feet. I couldn’t accept the soft massage back then,” she said with a smile.
But by the time I met her, she had already transitioned naturally into offering such services. This, perhaps, is the power of money. Money can magically lower one’s boundaries, allowing acceptance of things previously deemed unacceptable.
Talking about her early days there, many customers were construction workers who acted as though they had never seen a woman before. They would book a simple foot massage but try to grope her. She was terrified and felt humiliated. After half a month, dealing with such teasing and humiliation from customers, she felt nauseous and wanted to quit. She approached the manager, saying she didn’t want to continue. The manager, who was kind, told her not to be afraid. He said if any customer made her uncomfortable, she should stop the service and come to him for help.
This is the harsh and ugly side of society.
I began to feel sympathy for her, even though I knew she didn’t need it.
I started thinking about loving her, even though I knew I couldn’t afford such love.
She is an independent individual who can overcome the hardships of survival and live the life she desires without needing anyone else’s help.
Society humiliates both men and women, though in different ways. Women are often humiliated physically, while men are humiliated in their dignity. But what are physical integrity and dignity? Are they truly precious? Worth defending? To what extent? What’s the value of holding on to them?
I’ve seen too many women transform from dream-filled girls into prostitutes. I occasionally feel heartache and want to help them, but I can’t. For survival and a better life, they often have to relinquish things they once considered valuable. Over time, they develop dependency on this work, finding it impossible to transition to other professions.
You can sigh, but that’s all you can do. There’s nothing else you can do.
But people need resilience, principles, and steadfastness. These may seem intangible, but they ensure a life lived with fullness and value. Letting go of these will lead to giving up even more, eventually destroying one’s life in indifference.
To me, Z.H.’s past doesn’t matter—not even her spending nights with other clients or being teased and embraced by customers at a karaoke bar. What matters is her character. Can she change her current way of life to pursue a more meaningful, fulfilling one? Or will she continue to sell her body for money, giving her beauty to countless men, letting them defile her? Perhaps the word “defile” exists only in the minds of artists and children. The tirelessly working Chinese people have long stopped caring.
Z.H. is acutely aware of how society perceives her job.
How did she eventually accept doing soft massages? I don’t know. I’m curious, but it’s not my place to ask.
It must have been for the money.
Starting from simple foot massages to now offering both foot and soft massages, she earns more and works less. But I worry that as her material desires grow, even this high income might not cover her expenses, pushing her further into darker corners of the industry. Would she? Faced with piles of cash, would she be tempted? Would she sacrifice more, relax her boundaries, and care less?
I can’t control that.
It’s her freedom. As long as she’s happy, it doesn’t matter to me.
Many clients are interested in her—wealthy ones who hope to keep her as a mistress, a partner, or even a lover. She says she doesn’t like them, perhaps because she knows she wouldn’t be happy. But is happiness that important? If happiness isn’t the priority, then all that’s left is transactional exchanges.
She offers her body to men, and they give her money. There’s no love, only affection, and they continue living their separate lives, maintaining a so-called family. But she says that if that’s the case, she’d rather be alone. Her current job, though not respectable, allows her to live comfortably.
She needs genuine emotions.
But her job makes it impossible for most men to accept her, and she knows this. She says being in this line of work, dating is out of the question—it would be torment for the other person. This means her partner would need to provide her with sufficient financial support to allow her to transition to another job.
Yet, I foolishly fell in love with her. Knowing it was wrong, I couldn’t stop loving her—because love is not something you can give up on command.
However, despite this, I want to stop relying on her. I know this love is real, but we can’t sustain it. Falling in love with her, her job became unacceptable to me. Stopping her from continuing this work is not an option; she doesn’t know what else she could do. I also can’t provide continuous financial support for her current spending habits.
If she doesn’t want to change, no one else can help her.
At present, she refuses to be kept or sold to someone she dislikes. But what about the future? As she ages and her beauty fades, what lecherous man would still desire her? What wealthy man would still want to keep her? Deep down, she must know this. Under such anxiety, I believe
she will consider finding someone to rely on as early as possible.
But no matter what, I wish her happiness.
