The entanglements of several girls during college

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

My university years were probably one of the most unforgettable periods of my life, mainly due to bad luck. My exam scores were far below what I was supposed to get into the university, but there was nothing I could do about it. My family didn't have time to supervise me, so they just let me do as I pleased.
The university I attended was temporarily called XX University. There was once a folk song describing my school: "Thirty-three-year-old hooligans, thirty-five-year-old thieves, thirty-eight-year-old prostitutes flying everywhere." The area behind the men's restroom was basically a place for prostitution. Teenagers going through puberty and so-called social idlers frequented this place all the time. I estimate that most people in the city with some experience in the underworld know about this place to some extent, so it's a melting pot of all sorts of people.
Let me briefly describe myself: I'm not tall, my looks are average, I'm fat, and I have a rather unpleasant, pretentious way of speaking. Such a person shouldn't be associated with this kind of place, so I tried to be a good student every day, earning praise from teachers and classmates.
I have a bad habit: a strong interest in money transactions. Ironically, I ended up working in that field when I grew up. But let's leave that aside. Back in junior high, VCDs were all the rage across China. I found some channels and, as a student, started reselling CDs—you know what kind of content they contained.
Buying low and selling high, I never imagined the market within a school could be so huge. My understanding of money was quite simple then. My daily gross profit was around a hundred yuan. After maintaining relationships through food and drinks, the net profit was seventy or eighty yuan. And those boiled skewers outside the school were only one cent each. I was quite happy. As my small business grew, trouble struck—my first woman. Unfortunately, I honestly can't remember her name now, which is quite embarrassing. Let's call her Yan. This girl has bright eyes and white teeth, and her beautiful eyes sparkle. She's the girlfriend of the so-called "boss" of our school. One summer evening in my second year of junior high, she asked me if I had any more videos after school. I, with the demeanor of a businessman, politely replied, "Ten yuan a note, honest and fair, genuine, money back guarantee if fake." This girl named Yan pulled out a hundred-yuan note, a green one, the fourth edition of RMB. I didn't have any change on me, or maybe I didn't have enough, or maybe her eyes were too bright that day, or maybe the sunlight was too dazzling. For a professional trafficker, this is simply a disgrace. Helplessly, I said, "Then I'll give you another hundred." The girl named Yan smiled so brightly that the whole summer heat seemed to disappear. I couldn't stand it, and I felt it was a great deal. One hundred yuan for this level of smile, I made a killing. Don't think I've never seen a woman before or that I'm pretending to be rich. I've done this kind of thing many times. For example, I've taken a taxi from one city to another for five hundred yuan, or paid a prostitute to peel sunflower seeds for me for a thousand yuan. It's normal.
So, for a period of time afterward, I had a close relationship with this woman. Secrets can't stay hidden forever, and one evening in a rented room, I lost my virginity. Several days later, in a ridiculous turn of events, I was caught in bed with her by the so-called school bully. I fought him with half a plastic plate, both of us bleeding profusely, but I was then beaten half to death by his six henchmen, suffering unbearable pain. Years later, I unexpectedly ran into the same bully at a class reunion. While chatting and joking with a female classmate I no longer recognized, I prepared to leave, feeling uneasy, since I wasn't the one who had suffered the loss. The bully, however, kindly insisted on having a drink with me as an apology. My smile was bitter, and I felt a pang of sadness.
To be honest, I didn't feel anything for that woman named Yan. She was pretty, but her head was a mess; otherwise, she wouldn't have been seduced by a thug. She was inept in bed, and noticeably thin. Back then, I didn't know what anal sex was, let alone any kind of "butt-in." I just remember a pair of big, innocent, blinking eyes—she was my senior from high school.
Spring turned to autumn, and one day, a crackdown struck the city. DVD dealers suffered heavy losses, with most killed or injured. I always had backups online, and during those days, my transactions surged. Because of my excellent secrecy, I became one of the few transit points in half the city. But fame brings trouble, and those who make money work quietly. Realizing the security risks, I didn't hesitate to abandon this fairly profitable little business. Afterward, hearing that a kid had monopolized half the city's DVD market was just a legend; I just laughed it off.
On a side note, I must say that decisiveness is a good habit of mine. A few days ago, when 783 dropped 8%, I didn't hesitate to sell heavily, which drew criticism from many petty people. Even the owners of my portfolio didn't quite understand. But risk and profit are proportional, so let's see who laughs when the market opens on Monday.
My days of intimacy with my senior classmate didn't last long. Due to interference from her original spouse, the settlement of this business deal, and the cleanup of some social relationships, I had to be cautious and keep a low profile. I must admit that there are cunning people around my senior classmate. She often hangs out with women who have clearly already had sexual relations with me, so I inevitably became familiar with her. Plus, I had a steady income, and regardless of their motives, they developed a certain degree of admiration for me. Slowly infiltrating and carefully turning them against me is my specialty. If we met for the first time, many of them would probably think I'm just a stranger. After being effectively swayed by the sweet temptations of street food, I became interested in a woman surnamed Hu. She was quite short, only about 1.45 meters, petite and delicate, but also like a public toilet. My interest wasn't due to her promiscuous personality, but rather because she spoke fluent Northern Mandarin. Our conversation flowed smoothly, almost like a stand-up comedy routine. At the time, Feng Xiaogang's New Year films were very popular. Speaking of which, I still hold Huayi Brothers in high regard and have spoken highly of them publicly, believing they could be China's 20th Century Fox. Regarding the comings and goings of actors, I've seen through the comparison; the media is nothing but a prostitute, and controlling public opinion is just another issue. I won't elaborate further; you can keep an eye on Huayi Brothers.
Xiao Hu has a big mouth and narrow, upturned eyes, like immature phoenix eyes. She's incredibly charming and always spews profanities. Her words are sharp and unpredictable, and she's a master of deception. Rumors are unreliable; this is my firsthand account. I once heard a thug near a skewer stall jokingly say that his brother had slept with Xiao Hu last night, and that her vagina was so dark it reflected light. Xiao Hu, unfazed, calmly replied, "Not only is it dark, but it's also incredibly big. Your penis will look just like this when you put it in." As she spoke, she stirred the soup pot with a bamboo skewer. The thug's face turned pale, and he fled amidst the lewd laughter of a group of shameless women. I, almost without thinking, chimed in, "I want to try it too." Then I stirred and stabbed the pot with a bamboo skewer. The group of female hooligans laughed, and a few of the more perceptive ones pushed Xiao Hu towards me. That night, I took Xiao Hu to the brothel of one of the thugs next door and we had sex.
Miss Hu is exceptionally courageous, a true dragon among men. Though a phoenix in the world, she is not entirely free to choose her own path. Her parents are divorced, and she has no one to care for her. Personally, we share some common ground; my parents, though minor officials, are constantly busy, traveling between different places. We are both fellow sufferers. I am by nature averse to prying into others' private affairs, focusing only on the present and the future. After a few words, we met shirtless, and it was truly an eye-opener. Whether it was natural pubic hair or a habit of shaving, her skin was incredibly dark—not just shiny, but bluish-black. Interestingly, her nipples were also dark, which made me, a novice driver, feel like a novice starting on a 45-degree incline—frightened and furious. Miss Hu, however, was gentle and skillful, her scarlet nails like knives, treating me like a bull to be butchered. She quickly and decisively defeated me, leaving me utterly defeated. She stood there, knife in hand, looking around. I, wrapped in a sheet, was filled with shame and indignation, already knowing who had taken whom that night.
A few days later, upon seeing Miss Hu again, I felt a renewed itch and couldn't resist trying again. Although I was once again easily defeated, Miss Hu was always more innovative, and most importantly, she treated me with unwavering tenderness, making me linger and fall in love. Afterwards, she would lie beside me and ask strange questions. Some I could answer, some I couldn't, and even now, I can't answer most of the questions I can recall. Some people are born with innate knowledge, and Miss Hu undoubtedly belongs to that category. Question one: Is there absolute attraction between people? At the time, I thought not, but now, thinking about it, if a man and woman were on a deserted island, would this hypothesis hold true? Miss Hu is truly amazing.
To get to the point, Miss Hu is slender, with a waist so small it could be encircled with one hand, but incredibly flexible. She would devise unique movements and positions; she genuinely enjoyed it. This back-and-forth continued for a short time until summer vacation arrived. I encountered my nemesis, truly my nemesis, etched into my memory.
During summer vacation, my mother was invited to Inner Mongolia for an inspection tour, and I, feeling utterly bored, took along. The beautiful scenery of vast grasslands dotted with cattle and sheep made one forget countless things. The endless green grass was like a carpet, the blue sky like a canopy, and the raw, animal scent occasionally drifted on the wind like needles pricking the nostrils, refreshing and invigorating, making one reluctant to leave.
Suddenly, a chestnut horse galloped in from the horizon, carrying a wild and agile girl in shorts, a shirt, and a baseball cap. She suddenly charged into the flock of sheep, causing them to scatter in all directions. Her frantic behavior drew loud shouts from the surrounding shepherds, but the girl didn't get angry; instead, she laughed, her voice low and husky with a unique charm. To be honest, my curiosity was overflowing, but ultimately, the distance was still too far, and my eyesight wasn't good enough, so I leisurely returned to our lodging. A few days later, fate played a cruel trick on us, and we met again. I approached her to chat, and it turned out to be a teenage boy flirting with a girl—quite amazing. The girl had a very ancient Chinese surname, Ji, and was traveling to the grasslands with her father, a famous photographer. Even more remarkably, she lived in the same city as me. I was overjoyed, thinking, "Though the world is vast, I am not alone." From that day on, while both of our parents were busy, we often met, talking about music, writing, and photography. I remember that summer was the first summer after Zhang Yusheng's death. His powerful voice, which I had once been obsessed with, had drained my positive energy, leaving me feeling empty and slightly sad. But this girl was like a confidante, keeping me company. The short trip of ten days flew by, and my world seemed to consist only of her. Everything else—the strange and wonderful passage of time, the changing of day and night, the changing of the seasons—became irrelevant to me. Only my heart and hers mattered. It was terrifying, so terrifying. One morning, I woke up and realized in a flash that I had been fatally struck by love.
First love is often described as bittersweet and unforgettable, like the taste of apricot. Those who haven't experienced love can't imagine that it's better to have nothing than something to enjoy. To this day, I have absolutely no interest in Durex's apricot-flavored recyclable rubber product. It always brings back unpleasant memories. Actually, love itself isn't about right or wrong. Once the hormones that attract each other diminish, it's simply a matter of who gives more and who's more likely to become angry. All animals are like this. Once you understand this, you gain clarity and let go, or rather, you have no choice
but to let go. Summer vacation ended, and I returned to school. The weather gradually turned cold, losing the swaying grace of summer, which chilled my heart as well. After several months, Xiao Hu had suddenly grown a head of hair, but her skin was still dark, and her smile was radiant. Let's just say she's carefree; she looked even thinner. Standing near the stalls by the school gate with her group of girls—whose reliability I don't know—she seemed to have matured considerably, possessing a certain womanly reserve.
I don't know why, but the anxieties, joys, and sorrows of summer vacation, after seeing her, brought me a lot of peace, like a cup of lukewarm tea in the sweltering summer, or a pool of hot spring in the dead of winter. Not having her wouldn't affect my life, but having her at least made things a little better. However, after approaching her with a playful smile, I noticed she started to avoid me. I thought she wasn't in a good state of mind. After a few days of discreet inquiries, I learned that Xiao Hu had been having an affair during the summer and had even had an abortion. Her bizarre guardian, who seemed to be living on Mars, even knew about this mess. Naturally, Xiao Hu's return to school was like a heinous criminal spending all his money to get a suspended death sentence commuted to life imprisonment and then twenty years in jail—the verdict had barely been handed down when the government was overthrown. The ecstasy of regaining freedom, the memories of suffering, and the uncertainty of the future intertwined into an indescribable mix of emotions. During this period, her defenses are wide open; whatever you mold her into, she will become for a period of time.
Every day after school, in the fading light of dusk, I would chat with Xiao Hu. It was lively and comfortable. I asked Xiao Hu, "Why are you women so good at figuring out people, while men only like to figure out things?" Xiao Hu's answer was classic: "It's because we watched so much TV as children—romance dramas, while men watch crime dramas and action movies. So women study people, men study things." I still apply this principle. All the scheming and intrigue? Just watch TV, and your wife and mother-in-law will understand. Xiao Hu is a genius.
We maintain a tacit understanding; I don't ask about her private life, and she doesn't pry into my affairs. Simple chats and simple sex make us simple and happy friends. Under Xiao Hu's tutelage, even with her half-hearted flattery, I've finally experienced a couple of moments of unwavering courage. However, showing off my Goldbach Conjecture in front of Chen Jingrun would be extremely unwise. When Xiao Hu is serious, she's like Ximen Chuixue in bed, a lonely master in the arms of a woman.
The final year of junior high was always monotonous and exhausting, a constant cycle of mock exams, tests, and analyses. The immense pressure and allure of high school entrance exams coexisted, with the possibility of exceptional performance and the possibility of poor performance existing equally. School exams provided a relatively fair competitive environment—a realization I only truly understood after entering the workforce. Every industry dealing with money is bloody and dirty, merely cloaked in a veneer of precise calculation and refinement.
That year, unsurprisingly, I was admitted to a high school renowned for both its teaching quality and tuition fees, still close to home.
This world is cruel; only the victors can speak of their sacrifices and comment on the rightness or wrongness of their actions, while the erroneous never have that right. Xiao Hu lost that right, going to a more distant vocational high school to study nursing—perhaps a good thing. I gained it, so my criticism of the exam was utter nonsense.
Thus, this summer became simple and clear; I had a profound awakening, understanding the meaning and value of things. Youth may be gone, but I'll read books and eat and drink. Just like now.
This is a tribute to my youth.

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