Girl's gone superpokin'

Her hands felt cold as she inched nearer and nearer to his body. Today will be the day she fluorishes. She gently traced the outline his strong back muscles until she heard a light groan coming from him. 

"Oh yes, that's it," he softly moans. 

She reaches for her tool, and swiftly prods at his tenderness. Mini-cun by mini-cun,  she rotates and thrusts her tool deeper and deeper. 

"有了" ("Got it") He mumbles in a heavy French accent, and indicates, giving her his thumbs up. 

He has received the Qi. So did she, as she beams to herself, excited and fulfilled. Finally, she was no longer an acupuncture virgin. 

It may look painful, but acupuncture is not about pain. Most people hardly feel the needle as they are being superpoking. Mr French Fella here admits he did not feel the needle going in, but felt the princely arrival of the famous Qi. Or rather  a sensation described usually as warmth or sometimes a tingling sensation which cues the "arrival of Qi". 

From day 1 at the acupuncture clinic, I have yet to hear a patient complain about the incompetency of this ancient medical craft. Call them jingoistic, but Chinese people are staunch to their cultures.  Young and old, scholarly and not-so -literate, they believe in their ancestors' way of medicine that has been practised for thousands of years. Despite being stuck and stabbed eyes to arse, they come back for more, sometimes with compadres hand in hand.

Needles in hand, my journey through these meridians (and the streets of Shanghai) continues. Unlike western medicine my ancestors have lain down the meridians for me to the hidden spleen. By super-jabbing and listening for gentle moans hopefully this will lead me to the mysterious hiding place of the organ(s).