May of that year

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I've never really liked May, probably since middle school. Warm May is filled with so many exams. Until I graduated from vocational high school, every May was a struggle. After finally graduating and finding a job, I felt the pressure of society. Desperate, I decided

to study on my own—for the adult college entrance exam. One of my experiences stemmed from that exam. It was May again, my third time entering the exam hall, but I was still unsure. I took out my admission ticket, had it verified by the invigilator, and immediately started preparing (writing notes).

I sat in the last row, and to my right sat a young woman, about 28 or 29 years old. She saw me writing notes and said things like we should help each other… I was busy making my final preparations, so I just gave her a few perfunctory replies. (Completely understandable, right? Even if the invigilation isn't strict, you don't know each other's levels, and you don't trust each other, so you still have to rely on yourself.)

Unexpectedly, once the exam started, her eyes never left my paper. What I found even more unbearable was that she repeatedly reached out and patted me as we were about to hand in our papers, saying, "Hey, lift your hand up a bit, it's the third paper, your hand is pressed down, I can't see it." I swear the proctor, even if they were listening to Walkman, would have been startled by us. Fortunately, the proctor was somewhat lenient and tapped on the desk to let me hand in my paper early.

I left the classroom, went to the playground, found a shady spot, and was sitting down to recharge. The lady sitting next to me patted me and said, "Let's go eat." I was furious when I saw it was her; if it weren't for her enthusiastic expression, I would have questioned her about what was going on.

Later, we found a small restaurant nearby and ate and chatted. Looking back, the situation was basically: she criticized me, lectured me, and wanted to reform me. She said I answered too fast, and others couldn't keep up when copying; she said my handwriting was too small and messy, even her 5.0 eyes couldn't see it; and she said I ignored her repeated coughs as a clear indication of not understanding the "rules of the game." I don't know how she extinguished my anger at the time, but she completely baffled me. For a while afterward, I kept asking her if she was a Party member, wondering how she could be so good at educating others.

During the subsequent exams, I gradually fell into her trap. Our collaboration was very pleasant and successful. I successfully passed on the material on my exam paper to her using the methods she taught me. She, on the other hand, played a crucial role in the final payment after lunch. The

adult college entrance exam consisted of five subjects. After the last exam, I told her we should have a big meal, and I'd treat. She suggested we eat at her house, and she'd cook for me. I wasn't keen on going; someone only three or four years older than me, could she possibly cook well? This led to another heated argument… I said it was too hot and cooking would be too much work, and she said her air conditioner was powerful. I said it would be troublesome to buy new ones, and she said she had some ready-made ones and could help her clean them up… In short, I lost in the end. Looking back, I think I was really stupid; how could I not have seen the signs?

I failed again. After canceling the restaurant trip and going home with her, I was surprised by how delicious the food she could cook. Although I protested, my heart and stomach had completely surrendered. What's worse, she must have noticed, because no matter what I said, she just kept laughing. All her usual "instructor" demeanor was gone.

Her laughter made me feel guilty, and I didn't know what to say. Until she still smiled and said, "It's so hot, go take a shower."

Looking at her little mouth pointing towards the bathroom, I began to understand.

I swear that helping her cheat, eating with her, and attentively listening to her "instructions" was never premeditated. Even when I stepped into her house, I didn't think of it that way. In the days that followed, after each time, you would always ask me if I had set you up. I...I...I really can't explain it. I'm not trying to prove to you that I'm some kind of saint, I just can't stand your smug look then, it was clearly saying I was the victim!!

I considered myself relatively calm. "Let's shower together. Um, you can help me scrub or something."

"You go in first, I'll follow."

I went into the bathroom—that tiny toilet. I think I dragged myself in; I'd barely taken my clothes off when she came in. Her skin was very smooth because she wasn't wearing any clothes. I undressed inside, she undressed outside.

We naturally embraced. I kissed her, bit her, and entered her. I admit I wasn't an expert; I didn't know anything in that situation, I didn't have time to look at her breasts, her beautiful legs, or her genitals. I ejaculated quickly.

I carried her out of the bathroom, put her on the bed, and gently stroked her. She was covered in sweat, very slippery. She didn't moan, you could say she didn't at all, only a very faint sound like swallowing saliva lingering in her throat. My hand lingered on her lower body for a long time, touching her little by little.

Later, lying in bed, we chatted. Although the actual act didn't last long, we chatted for over three hours. We stroked each other's bodies, asking each other questions. This was also the most passionate time we were together. People say that caressing is the best foreplay, but for us, it seemed to be the opposite; everything we did was just for the final caress.

I remember once I was shaving her pubic hair while asking her name (we didn't know each other's names, we just said "Hi" when we met). She said, "Just call me 'Sister,' I'm a few years older than you." I didn't press her for details, which is something I regret.

Because it's inconvenient for me to live with my parents, I often went to her place. There was a period when I didn't go, and when I went back, a man in his thirties answered the door. I didn't ask any questions and left. A few days ago, when I went again, an old man said he had just moved in and didn't know anything.

By now, you netizens probably know my intention—a missing person notice. Yes, that's my intention, but not entirely. I'm writing down some of my experiences or feelings for everyone to share. I didn't write this article in a very explicit way—because everyone has already seen enough of the risqué stuff, so please keep your eyes open. Besides, in our limited interactions, there really wasn't much passion or lasting time.

I don't expect her to actually see this; I can't even guarantee she's still in Beijing. But maybe she's looking for me too, looking for your little brother. You'll understand my pen name at a glance. I'm waiting for your letter.

[The End]

I've never really liked May, probably since middle school. Warm May, yet so many exams. Until I graduated from vocational high school, every May was exhausting for me. After finally graduating and finding a job, I felt the pressure of society. No choice, I studied on my own—for the adult college entrance exam. One of my experiences stemmed from that exam.

It was May again, and I entered the exam hall for the third time, still feeling uncertain. I took out my admission ticket, and after the invigilator verified it, I sat down and immediately started preparing (copying notes, etc.).

I sat in the last row, and to my right sat a young woman, about 28 or 29 years old. She saw me copying notes and said things like we should help each other… I was busy making my final preparations, so I just gave her a few perfunctory replies. (Completely understandable, right? Even if the invigilation isn't strict, you don't know each other's levels, and you don't dare trust each other, so you still have to rely on yourself.)

Unexpectedly, once the exam started, her eyes never left my paper. What I found even more unbearable was that near the end of the exam, she repeatedly reached out and patted me, saying, "Hey, lift your hand up a bit, it's the third paper, your hand is pressed down, I can't see." I swear, even if the invigilator was listening to Walkman, they would have been startled by us. Fortunately, the invigilator was somewhat lenient and tapped on the desk to let me hand in my paper early.

I left the classroom, went to the playground, found a shady spot, and was sitting down to recharge. The lady sitting next to me patted me and said, "Let's go, let's go eat." I was furious when I saw it was her; if it weren't for her enthusiastic expression, I would have really questioned her about what was going on.

Later, we found a small restaurant nearby and ate and chatted. Looking back, the scene was basically: she criticized me, lectured me, and even tried to reform me. She said I answered questions too quickly, making it hard for others to copy, that my handwriting was too small and messy for her 5.0 vision to read, and that I ignored her repeated coughs as a clear indication of my ignorance of "rules of the game." I don't know how she extinguished my anger at the time; she completely baffled me. For a while afterward, I kept asking her if she was a Party member, wondering how she could be so good at educating others.

In later exams, I gradually fell into her shoes. Our collaboration was very pleasant and successful. I successfully passed on my answers to her using the methods she taught me. She played a crucial role in the final payment after lunch. The

adult college entrance exam consisted of five subjects. After the last exam, I told her we should have a big meal, and I'd treat. She said we should eat at her house, and she would cook for me. I wasn't too keen on going; could someone only three or four years older than me cook well? Another verbal battle ensued… I said it was too hot and cooking was too much work, and she said her air conditioner was powerful enough. I said it would be troublesome to buy a new one, and she said she had one ready-made and could help her clean it up… In short, I lost in the end. Looking back, I think I was really stupid; how could I not have seen the signs?

I lost again. After canceling the restaurant trip and going home with her, I didn't expect her to cook such delicious food. Although I was verbally unconvinced, my heart and stomach had completely surrendered. What's even more terrifying is that she must have noticed; no matter what I said, she kept smiling. All her usual "instructor" demeanor was gone.

Her smile made me feel guilty, and I didn't know what to say. Until she was still smiling and said to me, "It's so hot, go take a shower."

Looking at her little mouth pointing towards the bathroom, I began to understand.

I swear that helping her cheat, eating with her, and attentively listening to her "advice" were not premeditated. Even after stepping into her house, I didn't think about it that way. In the days that followed, after each encounter, you would always ask me if I had set you up. I...I...I really can't explain it. I'm not trying to prove I'm some kind of saint; I just couldn't stand your smug expression. It was clearly saying I was the victim!

I considered myself relatively calm. "Let's shower together. Um, you can help me scrub or something."

"You go in first, I'll follow."

I went into the bathroom—that small toilet. I think I dragged myself in. I had just taken off my clothes when she came in. Her skin was smooth because she wasn't wearing any clothes. I undressed inside, she undressed outside.

We naturally embraced. I kissed her, bit her, and entered her. I admit I wasn't experienced; I didn't know anything at the time, I didn't have time to look at her breasts, her beautiful legs, or her genitals. I ejaculated quickly.

I carried her out of the bathroom and placed her on the bed, gently stroking her. She was covered in sweat, very slippery. She didn't moan, in fact, not at all, except for a very faint sound, like swallowing, lingering in her throat. My hand lingered on her lower body for a long time, touching her little by little.

Later, lying in bed, we chatted. Although the actual act didn't last long, we chatted for over three hours. We caressed each other's bodies, asking each other questions. This was the most intense time for us. People say that caressing is the best foreplay, but for us, it seemed to be the opposite; everything we did was for the final caress.

I remember once, while shaving her pubic hair, I asked her name (we didn't know each other's names, we just said "Hi" when we met). She said, "Just call me 'Sister,' I'm a few years older than you." I didn't press her further, which is something I regret.

Because living with my parents was inconvenient, I often went to her place. There was a period when I didn't go, and when I went back, a man in his thirties answered the door. I didn't ask any more questions and just left. A few days ago, I went back, and an old man said he'd just moved there and didn't know anything.

By now, you netizens probably already know my intention—a missing person notice. Yes, that's my original intention, but not entirely. I'm writing down some of my experiences and feelings for everyone to share. I didn't write this article in a very explicit way—because you've all seen enough of the risqué stuff, so please keep your eyes open. Besides, our limited interactions didn't involve much passion or lasting time.

I don't expect her to actually see this; I can't even guarantee she's still in Beijing. But maybe she's looking for me too, looking for your little brother. You'll understand my pen name at a glance. Waiting for your letter.

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May of that year

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