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I’m thinkin’, man, this ain’t just rubbin’ backs. It’s an art, yo. Gotta know pressure points, like fixin’ a carburetor—too much force, you bust it. Too little, ain’t nobody feelin’ it. I read somewhere, like, ancient China had these massage spots for emperors only. Secret rooms, silk sheets, crazy oils smellin’ like jasmine or whatever. That’s wild! Imagine me, Hannibal, slidin’ into one of those joints—yo, emperor status!