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He never touched me again, but I remained constantly on guard against him. At the end of the year, my husband's contract expired, and he returned home. I wouldn't have to live a life of widowhood anymore. If he went away again, the children would be grown, and I could keep up with him. But seeing my father-in-law's sullen and silent face every day, I felt sorry for him. I kept trying to convince myself to forget the shameful things from back then, but I still thought about it from time to time. Could I tell my husband about this? For the sake of this family, I'd rather keep it buried deep inside!
My husband works a side business in another city and can only come home for a few days at the end of the year. My son is in the second year of junior high school in the county. Because there's no school in our village, my daughter has been attending a boarding school in the township since second grade. On weekdays, it's just my father-in-law and me living in the large courtyard. It's only lively for a couple of days when the children come home for the holidays.
The house has seven rooms. The land was built three years ago. My father-in-law lives in the two rooms on the east side, the children and I live in the three rooms in the middle, and the two rooms on the west side are the kitchen. My mother-in-law passed away seven years ago from late-stage stomach cancer. My husband used to do odd jobs nearby to earn a living. After the children grew up and expenses increased, he moved far away, and I wanted to earn more money to supplement the family income.
Five years have passed; it's been tough for him. I know he must have suffered a lot building the railway. I saved all the money he earned. Later, we built a new house on the old site, which I spearheaded. We have over ten acres of land and raise two pigs and over ten sheep. My father-in-law and I work together on these. Good days are finally coming, but I can't let go of the burden in my heart. I was bullied by my father-in-law before.
He's in his sixties and very healthy. He's usually quiet and has lived alone in the old house since my mother-in-law passed away. After our new house was built, my husband insisted on moving in with us. He wouldn't let me cook for myself anymore, and wanted me to cook with him. He said it was just to bring a bowl of rice, but really, he wanted me to serve his father. If it were just me eating a packet of instant noodles for breakfast, I could tolerate it, but since my father-in-law came, I have to get up early to cook millet porridge. He has a huge appetite; he eats at least two bowls of anything. My husband is his only son, and he has two older sisters who are married and live in other villages. They come to visit their father every now and then.
I have a good reputation in the village; the children are polite and do well in school. Besides, I'm quite well-behaved and haven't caused any gossip because of my husband's long absences. My father-in-law stays home all day, and no men come to visit. You could say everything is peaceful. I generally don't gossip about the neighbors; I have no desire to be a gossip. Others get together to play mahjong or cards when they have nothing to do, but I don't like that either. At most, when I'm extremely bored, I'll watch TV at home and not go to the school to check on the children. Sometimes I go back to my parents' house for a short stay, and my father-in-law stays home alone to look after the plants. While having an elderly person at home can be inconvenient, it's reassuring to know someone is there when I'm away.
Two years ago, my father-in-law and I were digging ditches in the cornfield. I was spreading fertilizer, and he was weeding. We worked all morning, and because of the overcast weather, it was already noon. We still had a small plot of land left to work on, and it looked like it was going to rain. If we didn't bury the fertilizer, it would be washed away and wouldn't be very effective. My father-in-law said we should finish it together, even if it was a little tiring, and I agreed. If it rained in the afternoon, the corn would absorb the fertilizer. We worked for another hour or so, and then it started pouring rain. We had just finished working in the field, but we were soaked to the bone on the way home. In summer, we were only wearing light clothing—just a pair of trousers and a tank top—which clung tightly to my body. He was behind me with a hoe, and I simply put the fertilizer bag on my head. On the way down the slope, I slipped and fell hard, scraping my knee. Blood mingled with rainwater, soaking through my trousers and flowing down. With his help, I limped home.
He fetched hot water for me to wash and change out of my muddy clothes. The rain outside was getting heavier, and the wind was banging loudly against the door. I saw him come out of his house wearing a straw hat and close the door tightly. Just then, I was washing my wound with salt water and cried out in pain. I saw him rush from the yard to my door and open it. At that moment, I completely forgot that I was naked from the waist down, wearing only my briefs. I had just washed my hair and changed into a dry undershirt; while wiping my lower leg, I was stung by the salt, pulled my leg back, and fell off the small stool, making my sprained ankle ache terribly. When he entered, he saw me sitting on the ground. When I realized I wasn't wearing pants, I hurriedly said, "You go first," but he picked me up, his calloused hands supporting my small body, and placed me on the bed. I quickly pulled the blanket over myself. I said, "Go to the kitchen and cook, I don't want to eat."
He didn't say a word, standing there stunned for a full minute. Suddenly, he climbed onto my bed. Helpless, I could only close my eyes tightly, turn my head away, and let him take advantage of me. Later, he made me an egg, still without saying a word, and I didn't say anything either. He came again that night, bringing noodles. I didn't eat, he turned off the light, and got into my bed again. This time I was really angry. I said, "If you don't leave, I'm going to call your son." He still didn't say a word and took advantage of me again. I didn't even dare to breathe, afraid that the neighbors would hear us arguing.
The next day, I could walk on my own, albeit with difficulty. I knew I hadn't broken any bones and would be fine in a few days. I ignored him, and he continued to cook for me as usual until I felt better a week later… For
the next two years, he never touched me again, and I remained constantly on guard against him. At the end of the year, my husband's contract expired, and he came back. I wouldn't have to live a widowed life anymore. If he went on another long trip, the children were older, and I could keep up with him. But seeing my father-in-law's sullen and silent face every day made me feel sorry for him. I kept trying to convince myself to forget the shameful things that happened back then, but I still kept thinking about it. Could I tell my husband about this? For the sake of this family, I'll keep it all buried deep inside!

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