This is a record of the first time a southerner experienced a bath in the northeast.
First is the head massage. Lying on a bed, the master began to massage my head while chatting. From the loss of talent in the northeast to the difference between the righteousness and unreliability of the people in the northeast, suddenly the topic changed: your friends all tried a salt bath, it would be awkward if you didn't, so I'll give you a free back massage. Alright, let's do it.
The second step is milk scrubbing. The master put on a pair of gloves, the surface of which is similar to that of a rich lady's happy ball. At this moment, I was naked, and the master poured some milk on me as if it had just been squeezed out, and started scrubbing. Every inch of skin below my neck felt like it was being crushed by a tiger tank. I endured the pain and itching, with my eyes wide open, waiting for the mountains and rivers to break. I even felt a little sympathy for Li Hongzhang.
Suddenly, the master stretched the scrubbing glove in front of me and said, "Look, it's mud." I suddenly woke up. This is not mud, it is a stain on my life. I need to repent and atone. The priest is baptizing me. This is not a bath center, it is a wall of tears, it is the Aksa Mosque, it is the fallen Hagia Sophia. I couldn't help but silently say, "Yes, yes, I am a fool. I will never touch Chinese concept stocks again. I shouldn't have believed the devil's words of Wooden Sister."
The third step is a salt bath. The master poured a mixture of honey and salt on me, and my entire abdominal muscles became a place where milk and honey flowed, just like in the Bible. Then the master began to press my whole body with a kneading technique, like the palm of Buddha. I thought of "Kung Fu", I thought of Stephen Chow, I thought of his "God of Cookery", I thought of the beef balls with urine, I thought of the short and beautiful days in Shunde, but I couldn't control my drooling.
Finally, the master gave me a back massage. A pair of powerful hands tapped on my back with force, gradually becoming very rhythmic. Ah, it's "The Iron Flow of the Yellow River", it's "The Yellow River Cantata". Two words appeared faintly in my chest: "China", and four words were engraved on my back: "Good men spare lives". No, it should be "Loyal to the country". But the rhythm became faster and faster, and this is no longer a song that humans can sing. My back turned into a set of drums, and the bath master is the devil instructor in "Whiplash". I just realized that the master also happens to be bald. Spare the good men!
Finally, everything is over. I lie naked, without a trace of dirt or bondage on my body, as if I have returned to the beginning of life. At this moment, my soul has left this body, wandering in the void. I am a follower of the Gulei family, an Indian ascetic, a black slave on an American plantation, and the founder of the Northern Qi Dynasty. I lead a camel team out of the peninsula, I fast, I cross the Atlantic in a small cabin, and I sing the "Ejina Song"...
The master's final question brought me back to reality:
- Do you feel good?
- It costs 188 in total.
I didn't answer, I didn't need to answer, I just showed my bracelet. This bracelet is such a perfect circle. If there is no god, how can such a perfect creation exist in the world? I understand it in my heart. Ah, God, you fooled me again.
A sand sculpture blogger once said: The end of the universe is in the northeast. It doesn't deceive me.
I dare not say that I am a spiritual northerner, I am just a passerby, a convert, and a betrayer. It is better to say that the northeast is my Mecca.
In the bathhouse, one day is equivalent to a thousand years in the world. It is already completely dark outside the window, and it is snowing heavily.
So I turned and walked towards the third floor, and ordered a bowl of chicken stew with mushrooms.