[I Slept with My Wife's Lover's Wife and Daughter] (Photos and Text) Author: Unknown

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I Slept with My Wife's Lover's Wife and Daughter
Author: Unknown
Word Count: 41145
TXT Package: [attach]1138057[/attach]
I am a doctor. It all started early last year. I was on a business trip out of town. One evening, after returning from a social engagement
, I received a call from my wife as soon as I arrived at the hotel. She sounded worried, saying she was sick. I asked what was wrong,
but she wouldn't say. After pressing her for a while, she remained silent on the other end of the line, finally saying slowly, "You'll know when you get back
," and then hung up. When I called back, her cell phone was off, and the landline went unanswered.
I felt something was amiss, so I called her parents. I didn't mention her illness at first, just chatted casually
, and finally asked if she had been home recently, and how her work and health were. The elderly couple said she hadn't been
home recently, but they had spoken on the phone the previous morning, and everything was fine. After a few more pleasantries, I hung up.
I lay in bed thinking for a while, then got up and called her sister. When
the call connected, I got straight to the point and asked what was wrong with my wife. Her sister sounded surprised and asked, "You didn't know? She's pregnant
."
I was taken aback and asked when it happened. She said she accompanied my wife to the hospital for a checkup yesterday afternoon.
I told her my wife had called me saying she was sick, but hadn't mentioned being pregnant. Her sister said she'd go
see her and call me back later. However, that evening, I didn't receive a call, nor could I
contact the sisters again.
The next morning around 9 a.m., I was in a meeting when my wife called, saying she was pregnant but
didn't want the baby and planned to have an abortion. Because it was my turn to speak at the meeting, I only said, "Wait a minute, we
'll discuss it further, I'll contact you at noon," and quickly hung up.
At noon, I called her, but her phone was off. I called her sister, but her phone was off. I called her parents' house, but no
one answered.
That evening, I called her again, and this time she finally answered. Before I could even question her,
she started crying on the other end of the phone. Her sobs were soft, a suppressed chorus, but I could feel
her heart-wrenching pain. She cried for about ten minutes before calming down slightly. I asked her
what was wrong, and she said, "I'm sorry, I had the abortion without your consent." I couldn't bring myself to say anything,
nor did I mention that her phone had been switched off at noon. I comforted her, saying we were still young and could have another child.
My wife is a mid-level manager at a foreign company and is currently in the running for promotion. She said she didn't want the child
to cause her to lose this opportunity, which I understood. However, what bothered me was that during our intimate moments
, at her insistence, I always used condoms. While this doesn't guarantee complete safety (which
is why I didn't express my doubts at the time), deep down, I still felt
uneasy.
Because of a demanding business trip, I stayed for almost a month. During this time, we
continued to talk on the phone as usual, letting each other know we were safe. Her mood improved day by day. A week before I returned home, she
was promoted from deputy to full-time, just as she had hoped. That night, she and her colleagues celebrated at a hotel. They kept her
drinking, and she hid in the bathroom to call me, telling me she was drunk. She ended by saying, "Honey, you have to keep going
!"
Even from afar, I was infected by her happiness and slept soundly that night.
During this time, her phone became incredibly reliable.
On the day I returned home, the flight was delayed, and I arrived late. She and her younger sister were waiting for me to have dinner. The housekeeper
wasn't there; her younger sister had cooked dinner.
During dinner, my wife told me that while I was away, the housekeeper had quit and gone
home because her husband had some trouble. She had given her an extra 200 yuan before leaving. After dinner, her younger sister said she had to
go back to the police station the next day. We discussed hiring a housekeeper (my wife can't cook, and we're usually busy, so we always
hire someone), and then went to bed.
Eileen Chang said, "The way to a woman's heart is through her vagina."
She was right. The moment we got into bed, that familiar body filled me with a sense of estrangement. My wife's deliberate attempt to hide her
resistance, however, humiliated my self-esteem through her body.
Afterwards, I pretended to be satisfied and closed my eyes, mentally calculating the time the nanny had left. Based on the nanny
's usual payday and income, a simple calculation confirmed that she had left three
days before my wife became pregnant. Considering her several inexplicable reactions during her pregnancy, I was certain: my wife was cheating on me.
Like many brothers on Mop, I followed in your footsteps and also donned this bright green hat.
The next day, I went to the mobile phone company under the pretext of paying the phone bill to check my wife's call records, only to be told the password had been changed
. I then checked the landline's call records at the telecom company; there were no unfamiliar numbers. However, my wife's
calls with her sister were very frequent, especially after the night her sister-in-law visited my wife. Their calls often lasted over
an hour, more than twice a day. Before, they averaged two calls a week, each lasting no more than ten minutes.
My wife's younger sister is Police, 27 years old, has a boyfriend, and they're planning to get married at the end of the year. I believe
she knows about my wife's situation, but getting any information from her is almost as difficult as getting a mute to speak—
practically impossible.
I thought of the nanny; she might be my only clue. The nanny lives in the countryside and doesn't have a phone, so
I went home, found a copy of her ID card, and wrote down her address.
Two weeks later, I took leave from work, told my wife I had to go on a business trip, and boarded
a long-distance bus to the nanny's place.
After a five-hour journey, I finally found her home. I bought some gifts, explaining that I was passing through a nearby city on my business trip and
wanted to stop by to see her. She was very touched and busied herself serving me tea and water while her husband prepared dinner. I asked her
if her husband's situation was resolved. She said he was fine, and I quickly apologized, saying I had misremembered.
During dinner, I asked her why she quit her job. She said it was because her wife told her we were both going abroad for further studies and
didn't need anyone at home anymore. I was silent for a moment, then said, "That's right, I was originally planning to tell
you when I got back."
She said it didn't matter if it was a few days earlier or later, as her child was in middle school and needed her. After some
casual conversation, I learned the following: During my business trip, my wife didn't come home for three nights.
One night, around midnight, a tall man dropped her off at her apartment building. The nanny saw his car and
said, "It was a black car. The streetlights were dim, so I couldn't see the license plate clearly, but it looked like there were some circles in the middle. The next
day, my wife told her we were going abroad, so she went home." She
stayed at the nanny's house for one night. The next morning, after saying goodbye, I walked along a country road and confirmed
a few important things: my wife was lying; the nanny was fired because she saw something important; and that man
was driving an Audi.
I sat on the long-distance bus, feeling lost and confused. For a moment, I even hoped the bus would veer off the highway and plunge off a
cliff, so I would never have to face the truth.
After returning to the city, I sat in the hospital for a while and then went straight home. I took a shower, feeling utterly exhausted
, and as soon as I lay down, I fell into a deep sleep. The next morning, my wife shook me awake, telling me she had to go on a business trip and
wouldn't be back for a few days. She asked me to wash the car. Hearing the sound of her placing the car keys on the coffee table, I was fully awake
.
The car was a gift I gave my wife when she started working. At that time, I sold my motorcycle and used almost all
my savings to fulfill my promise. When she received the car, she hugged me, crying with emotion, her tears soaking
my clothes… Her joy, transmitted through her tears, spread to me, transforming into happiness, making me feel like I
was in heaven.
However, years later, she repeatedly expressed that the car was beneath her dignity and hoped to replace it as soon as possible.
And I, I continued to ride my bicycle through the commuting crowds, day after day, year after year. Perhaps, I, too, had become
beneath her dignity and should be replaced? I couldn't help but think this.
While washing the car, the attendant asked me to gather some important items from inside. While cleaning the back seat, I found
two strands of hair tangled in the seat cushion's crevice—one long and soft, the other short and stiff. I carefully
wrapped it in newspaper. I scraped off some of the surface layer from the suspected semen stain with a knife, carefully stored it, and put it in a handbag
.
After washing the car, I went home and searched the bed for a long time before finding a strand of my wife's hair .
I put it together with two other strands of hair. With these three strands of hair and the suspected semen stain, I quickly drove to the hospital.
Through trace element testing, two of the strands were identified as belonging to the same woman, my wife; the other was identified as
belonging to a man, which I believed to be my lover. Further analysis of pigment content and hair cross-sectional diameter determined that
my lover was between 40 and 50 years old. A thermal dissociation test confirmed his blood type
as A.
Unfortunately, the suspected semen stain may have been solidified for too long and could not be separated.
Determining my lover's age also ruled out my wife's colleague as a suspect. Her company has many young people;
no Chinese person is over 40, and those over 40 are all foreigners. My wife has an extreme aversion to foreigners.
When she first joined the company, the thought of the mixed smell of perfume and body odor on foreigners made her lose her appetite when she got home.
Since my wife was away on business trips, my sister-in-law knew I had nowhere to eat, so she often invited
me to her gatherings with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend, surnamed Tan, is a software engineer at the Agricultural Bank of China.
One day at dinner, we talked about their wedding, and the conversation inevitably drifted to having children.
I suddenly remembered something and asked my sister-in-law, "Did your sister have surgery at our hospital?"
She said, "No, it was a hospital in a neighboring city."
My suspicions immediately filled me: my hospital has the best medical facilities in the province, and it
's very convenient for the families of medical staff to receive treatment there. Giving up my place to have surgery in a neighboring city must be to hide
something.
But my sister-in-law accompanying my wife to our hospital for surgery, wouldn't she need to hide her whereabouts? After much thought, I began
to suspect: my wife's lover also went for surgery, and they didn't go to our hospital because they were afraid of running into acquaintances.
Thinking about this, my heart was churning, but I calmly finished my meal. After dinner, Xiao Tan said he was going to urinate,
and I followed him. I first splashed water on my face at the sink in the back to calm my excitement.
When I entered the restroom, I glanced at the screen and noticed that Xiao Tan was having difficulty urinating; there seemed to be white mucus in his coronal sulcus. As a doctor,
I knew what this meant.
On the way home, I called a friend at a nearby hospital, hoping he could help me check
the security camera footage from the underground parking garage. He said it was no problem and told me to come the next day without asking any further questions. A brother is a brother; he'll
help you in a pinch, without needing to know why.
The next morning, I called the hospital to change my shift and drove straight to Lincheng.
With my friend's help, I retrieved the footage from that day. Sure enough, it was a black Audi A6
with a local Go-Vern-Ment license plate. I suddenly realized: my wife
frequently interacted with government departments due to her work. Her lover was an official.
Having the license plate number made things relatively easier. After two days of effort, I
basically figured out the lover's background. He was a bureau chief, a deputy director-level cadre, 45 years old; my wife was 40,
a finance officer in a bureau, a deputy division-level cadre; their relationship appeared good in public. They had a 20-year-old daughter studying at a
university in the city.
Another important piece of information was that the lover hadn't been in the city for the past few days. I suspected they were together.
That evening, my wife called me, saying she'd be back tomorrow. I pondered how to have a proper talk with her.
Honestly, although my wife had cheated, I didn't want to confront her if she could turn back in time.
The lover had a family, and for the sake of his position, he couldn't marry her.
They were more than ten years apart in age, practically from different generations. When the illusions of officialdom, materialism, and
an Oedipus complex are shattered by the resentment and darkness of a long-term secret affair, I wonder
if they can truly find a bond to maintain such a relationship for years to come, besides the thrill of the affair?
Of course, whether the age gap is an advantage or a disadvantage is something I dare not say definitively. Perhaps, psychologically, a woman
, throughout her life, always needs the shadow of her father to feel safe.
About three months later, it was raining heavily when my wife picked me up from the hospital. We were silent the whole way home. As we neared home
, she broke the silence and said, "I want a child."
I said okay.
After dinner, we made love passionately. She was very enthusiastic, her movements intense, taking the initiative. I responded
to her, and in her long-lost, dreamy eyes, I felt a sense of intense pleasure again.
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Forty days later, she told me she was pregnant.
I was speechless with sadness.
After my wife became pregnant, she brought her mother to live with us, and we hired another person. However, from then
on, I rarely ate at home, drank heavily every night, and sometimes didn't even come home to sleep.
My wife's pregnancy had torn apart my principles; I wanted to forget her and get revenge.
One night, while I was singing at a karaoke bar, my sister-in-law called me, saying my wife wasn't feeling well and might need to be taken to
the hospital, asking where I was. Fueled by alcohol, I told her I didn't know where I was and asked her to guess. If
she guessed correctly, she should tell me so I knew my exact location.
Twenty minutes later, my sister-in-law arrived in my private room with two plainclothes police officers.
They pulled me from the laps of two women, pushed me downstairs, and shoved me into a van.
My wife had already been taken to the hospital. Seeing her lying pitifully in the hospital bed, I felt
a wave of nausea and vomited all over the floor in the room. Then, I leaned against the wall and fell fast asleep.
Unfortunately, my wife's symptoms were just normal pregnancy reactions, possibly accompanied by postpartum depression, which made
the reaction more severe. My wife will naturally have postpartum depression, because both of the children's fathers can only forever remain trapped in
their shells. I sneered inwardly, accompanied by a sharp pain.
The next morning, my sister-in-law barged into my office and berated me in front of the patients. I asked the nurse to send her
away, but she wouldn't leave. I told her this was a hospital, a place for medical treatment; she could see me, but she had to pay to register.
She turned and left, leaving me with 10 appointments and berating me all morning.
In the afternoon, I asked a urologist to check Xiao Tan's medical records and test results, and sure enough, I got
the results. I called my sister-in-law and told her I'd come to her place that evening to talk. I
asked Xiao Tan to leave, and she sneered, "Fine, I doubt you'd dare do anything to the police."
After work, I put the documents in an old express mail envelope. When I arrived at my sister-in-law's house, she was wearing her police uniform
and hat. I told her to take off her uniform; if she still acted so serious, I wouldn't say a word.
I told her I hadn't eaten and asked her to cook some noodles. She agreed, changed into civilian clothes, and went downstairs to buy some braised dishes. After cooking the noodles
, I said I wanted to drink. After searching for a while, she pulled out a bottle of Yili Daqu liquor, then stood aside, arms twisted,
coldly watching me eat and drink.
I told her not to look down on me like that. Who did she think she was? Her sister was wronged,
and she wanted to stand up for her? Was she as wronged as I was? I'd like to see her pregnant with my bastard child and then let her be a free mother, and see if her
sympathy would still be so overflowing.
She jumped at me, trying to hit me, but I pushed her away. I threw the envelope at her and sneered, "Take a good look
. This is your son Tan's test report. Gonorrhea. Do you know what that is? Let me explain.
It's a sexually transmitted disease, called gonococcal urethritis. The main route of transmission is sexual intercourse. Don't tell me you infected him
."
After saying that, I grabbed the bottle and gulped down several mouthfuls.
I knew clearly that this was a devastating blow to her.
My sister-in-law had been in two relationships. Her first boyfriend was her true love, but she had to
break up with him after he was caught philandering. When they broke up, she was heartbroken, went on a two-day hunger strike, and refused any man's advances for a year
.
Xiao Tan wasn't tall, nor was he particularly handsome; his appearance was a far cry from her ex-boyfriend's. She
dated Xiao Tan mainly because she valued his reliability and simplicity, believing she could entrust her life to him. I guess she never dreamed
that this tech idiot who could only write code would have such a dissolute side.
In my sight, my sister-in-law was biting her lip, her hand holding the report trembling slightly, her eyes brimming with tears. After
a while, she squatted down, covered her face with her hands, and began to sob softly.
I went over and helped her up, saying, "Do you know how I feel? It's not easy to have your lover cheat on you, is it?" Hearing
this, she threw herself into my arms and burst into tears. Infected by her, my own eyes blurred
.
The tougher the armor, the softer the body beneath, like a turtle's shell.
In just one minute, my sister-in-law had emptied the bottle. Then she rummaged through drawers looking for wine, but couldn't find any,
so she rushed out and bought a bottle of Langyatai from the small shop downstairs. She sat on the steps by the garden and continued drinking. I
followed her all the way, keeping her company, watching her unable to distinguish between her snot and tears.
When I carried her upstairs, she was completely unconscious. However, when I put her on the bed and was about to
leave quietly, she gently took my hand and clearly said, "Brother-in-law, don't go."
I smiled, a little painful.
The next morning, when I left my sister-in-law, there was a photo on my phone, the content of which was a reference to the most
exciting double scene in the sex scandal.
When my wife was lying on her lover's lap, experiencing repeated orgasms, did she ever think that her sister-in-law had once ridden on top of me,
twisting her waist? When my wife nestled in her lover's arms, pitying me, did she ever think that one day she would be
mocked by me?
I rode my bicycle at breakneck speed, arriving at the hospital in the blink of an eye. I walked briskly up the stairs, opened the office
door, lit a cigarette, and my mood improved considerably.
In my heart, the color of the green hat had faded considerably.
My wife's belly grew bigger, and the stimulation for me intensified. Thankfully, her mother and the nanny were at home
; otherwise, I would have had to fulfill my lover's responsibilities as a father and take care of the unborn child. When we were at home, we only
met for meals; otherwise, I hid in my study, reading and playing on the computer. I made excuses about being afraid of accidentally rolling over onto the baby.
The son also slept in the study, avoiding his wife's presence as much as possible. Communication between the couple dwindled to
a few words: "Open the door," "Dinner's ready," "Go to bed early," "Goodbye." That was all
.
During this time, my sister-in-law came once; she and Xiao Tan had broken up. When she told us, she glanced at me
, but I pretended not to see and kept eating. After dinner, I went back to the study and listened to their
conversation in the living room. From her words, I could tell she was very concerned about me and was trying to find out anything about me
. As for the reason for her breakup with Xiao Tan, she only said faintly that they were incompatible and refused to say more.
When she left, she knocked on the study door and stood outside, loudly saying, "Brother-in-law, I'm leaving
. Be good to my sister."
I opened the door; she had already gone downstairs.
I told my wife I would see her off, grabbed my car keys, and went after her. In the stairwell, I reached for her
hand, but she shook it off and rushed forward, dashing out of the security door. I followed closely behind, and when our building
disappeared from view, I reached for her again. She gripped my hand tightly, as if
I would disappear if she let go.
We practically ran to the car and embraced. My sister-in-law held me tightly,
tears streaming down her face, saying, "Brother-in-law, I missed you." I gently kissed her neck and said, "I missed you too."
That night, I called home, but the nanny answered. I told her some colleagues were going out drinking and I'd
be home late.
I didn't get home until almost 2 a.m., and my wife was already asleep.
My wife had always been a taboo subject between my sister-in-law and me; whenever she was mentioned, we both remained silent
. Only once did my sister-in-law ask me why I was so sure the child wasn't mine. I said, "A feeling." She said, "What if it is?" I said,
"There are no 'what ifs.'" She asked me what we would do afterward, and I said we would divorce after the child was born
. She cried, and I knew she meant to ask what we should do in the future. I deliberately avoided the question because I didn't
know either.
One day, my sister-in-law told me that a colleague had liked her for many years and, knowing she had broken up with her boyfriend, started
pursuing her again. I didn't pay much attention at the time. A few days later, I had just gotten off work when a tall man stopped me,
saying he was my sister-in-law's colleague and wanted to talk to me.
I felt a little guilty and said I had something to do at home and we could talk another day, then hurriedly left. Later, I called my sister-
in-law, and she said that the person pursuing her was him, and that he had found out about our relationship. I asked how he found out
, and she said he was a policeman and had his methods.
The next day, that policeman stopped me again.
I didn't want to talk to him and turned to leave. He grabbed me and demanded to talk. I said there was nothing to talk about, and he
said he knew about our relationship, and if I didn't talk, he would tell your wife.
I laughed out loud, pointed my finger at his nose, and said, "If you don't tell her, you're a bastard. I want
her to know. Thanks for helping me out. Let me be clear, I don't love prostitutes. I slept with her only because she's
my wife's sister. My wife cheated on me, and I want revenge."
He turned and left.
That night, I called my sister-in-law, but she didn't answer. I texted her, but she didn't reply.
The next day, I waited for her on my way home from work. She made a phone call, looked at me with disdain,
and wouldn't say a word. A little while later, the policeman arrived. He pushed me away and warned me to leave her alone.
Later, I found out that the policeman had recorded what I said that day and played it for my sister-in-law. My
relationship with my sister-in-law came and went quickly.
I was somewhat resentful, but there was nothing I could do. Besides, she and that policeman had officially started a relationship.
If I insisted on stealing her away, I would inevitably suffer, at worst ending in mutual destruction.
My sister-in-law's words resonated deeply with me: "He's a policeman; he has his methods."
The policeman's surname was Song. My mother-in-law's birthday banquet was held at a hotel, and my sister-in-law brought him along, introducing him as her
boyfriend and colleague.
He greeted everyone, then walked up to me, smiling broadly as he extended both hands to shake mine, saying, "Brother-
in-law, hello. XX often mentions you, saying you're a virtuous husband and good brother in the family. Please guide me; there are many things
I still need to learn from you." I watched helplessly as my right hand deformed in his palms, unable to utter a word.
He used tremendous force; I almost heard the sound of my hand bones breaking.
I finally managed to free myself, sat down in a chair, calmed myself, and said, "Song, you're very
smart, and I like you very much. I hope we can become family in the future. No need for formalities."
The banquet was lively, but everyone at our table harbored their own secrets: my wife, my sister-in-law, and Song. I didn't know
what they were thinking, just as they didn't understand my thoughts.
One day after work, since I had the next two days off and didn't want to go home anyway, I met up with some
doctors from the medical examination team for drinks.
Over drinks, we talked about work, and they complained that being in the medical examination team was boring, offered no opportunities for clinical training, and that
their professional skills would stagnate, etc.
A doctor surnamed Zhao mentioned that a third-year student from a certain university was coming for a medical examination the day after tomorrow, and he had a parent-teacher
conference for his son that day, so he asked me to cover for him. I wanted to rest, so I made an excuse that I had to accompany my wife for a routine check-up the day after tomorrow, and that I was
worried about making a mistake due to my unfamiliarity with the profession, so I declined. Dr. Zhao didn't say much. Actually, we both knew that the
excuse of unfamiliarity with the profession was just that—an exam that almost anyone could do.
As we parted, I shook Dr. Zhao's hand and said I was sorry I couldn't help
. He said it was alright, and we all went our separate ways.
On my way home, I suddenly remembered that my lover's daughter was a third-year student at that university. I pondered
for a long time, shook my head, and slowly walked home.
The next evening, when my wife got up to serve dinner, her protruding belly bumped into my arm, and I instantly felt
nauseous and couldn't eat anymore. I hurriedly fled back to my study.
I slumped over my desk, shame and anger like two iron fists, one from Ali and the other from Tyson, taking turns
shattering me.
I called Lao Zhao and told him I was free tomorrow and could cover his shift. He was delighted, saying he was just worried about...
Unable to find him, I solved his immediate problem; thank you. I said no need to thank me, I should be thanking you.
That night, I didn't sleep a wink. Finally, I was about to make contact with my lover.
Revenge had only just begun.
The first time I saw my lover's daughter, she was having her vision tested. Looking into her clear eyes, pure as
pristine mineral water, my heart skipped a beat, and I felt a little dizzy. This feeling was the same one I had
when I first saw my wife.
When it was my turn to be examined, I deliberately mentioned some abnormalities in her health, which startled her
. I reassured her that it was just a minor issue that would resolve itself with some rest. I gave her my phone number, telling
her she could contact me if she needed anything. Of course, under the guise of concern, I also got her phone number and dormitory address.
I received her blood test results that day; she was slightly anemic.
Otherwise, there were no problems. I called her that same day to tell her her blood test results. Hearing she was anemic
, she seemed a little sad, but very grateful, as her classmate hadn't received their results for several days.
Using the excuse of concern and advice, I maintained a call-to-study schedule of every two days. Gradually, we
became familiar with each other.
One weekend a month later, without telling her, I bought a bouquet of flowers and some anemia
supplements and went to see her at school. She was very happy and we had dinner together. During our conversation, I casually complimented
her, pretending to have unexpectedly found common ground and was surprised to discover we shared the same hobbies. She laughed innocently
and said she hadn't been this happy in a long time.
Before leaving, she told me I could call her YY.
I asked, "Is that how only the closest people call each other?"
She lowered her head and said, "Yes."
I said she could call me Uncle, that's what the closest people call me now. She laughed and playfully hit me, saying,
"You're not old, I'll call you Brother."
During this time, I carefully studied her medical report. The report included her blood type, and based on her birthday,
I deduced her zodiac sign. Combining the zodiac sign and blood type, I summarized the basic personality traits of this type of girl. Although
judging a person's personality based on their zodiac sign and blood type is somewhat unreliable, I didn't want to fight an unprepared
battle, and I had to succeed.
I started sending her text messages every day; first, I wanted to become a part of her life.
Day 1.
"YY, it's raining here, is it raining where you are? Remember to wear warm clothes."
"No." She replied.
Day 2.
"YY, have you eaten?"
"Not yet." She replied.
"Pay attention to nutrition, don't just eat vegetables."
"Okay." She replied.
Day 3.
"YY, I bought a pair of red shorts today."
"Oh, do they look good?" She replied.
"Not good, very sexy."
"Hehe." She replied.
"YY, actually I bought two pairs."
"Oh." She replied.
"One of them is underwear, hehe."
"Ugh." She replied.
Day 4.
"YY, I had a fight with a patient today, it's all your fault."
"What does it have to do with me?" she replied .
"I was daydreaming while writing the prescription this morning and made a mistake. Someone came looking for me this afternoon."
"Be careful, but does it have anything to do with me?" she replied.
"YY, I don't dare say."
"It's okay, go ahead." she replied.
"YY, I was thinking about you at the time, and I drew a thigh on the prescription." "
...That's hilarious, really?" she replied.
The fifth day.
"YY, I want to come see you tonight."
"I'm going home today." she replied.
"Just for a quick look."
"I'm leaving after school." she replied.
"I'll take you home."
"My mom's picking me up, it wouldn't be good if she saw." she replied.
"Well... okay, but you have to promise me one thing."
"What is it?" she replied.
"Think about me carefully before you go to sleep."
"No." she replied.
A little while later, she sent another message, "Just a quick, half-hearted thought of you before I go to sleep."
I smiled and closed my phone. Having received systematic psychology training, I subtly
and gradually won her heart.
I told my wife that I had been working many night shifts lately, making commuting inconvenient, and I was thinking of renting a place near the hospital.
She agreed. Since becoming pregnant, she had been completely focused on her belly. I thought, even if I turned
into a cockroach one day, she wouldn't be surprised.
After work on Monday, I went to the school to find YY.
She wasn't in her dorm. I sent her a text message asking where she was. She replied that she was watching
a movie with her classmates. I didn't mention that I was at school, only telling her to be careful.
I waited until almost 11 o'clock, and then I saw her and two other girls walking towards the dorm. I went up to greet her,
and she was surprised, asking, "What are you doing here?" I said, "I was just passing by and thought I'd drop by, but I arrived just as I was texting you
." After saying that, I wished her goodnight and turned to leave. Her two classmates laughed behind me.
On my way, I received a text from her: "Thank you for visiting me."
I replied: "I'll be passing by your school again tomorrow, are you there?"
She replied: "Always here."
The next day, before leaving, I told my wife I had to go on a business trip for a few days. It was in Lincheng, a short distance, so I drove.
She said: "Okay, be careful."
I went to a real estate agency near the hospital and found an apartment. After working for half a day, I didn't get to the office until noon.
I smoked a cigarette, gathered my thoughts, and called a colleague at the Friendship Hospital to ask him to
reserve a bed for me. He said: "Sure, beds aren't scarce now, you could get one even without calling." He then asked: "Is that right?"
"Your hospital is full?" I told him not to worry about it, just keep the bed available,
and don't say a word if anything strange happens. He smiled and said, "Whatever."
After lunch, I called YY and arranged to meet at the Passionate Cafe near the school at 6:30.
"See you there," I said.
"See you there," she said too, and I could almost picture her biting her lip.
Around 2:00, I texted YY, lying that there was a critically ill patient who needed surgery, but I
would definitely be at the cafe before 6:30.
Half a day later, she texted back: "Work is important, let's meet another day?"
I texted back: "I will definitely be there. If I break my promise the first time we meet, please
never talk to me again."
She texted back: "Okay, I'll wait for you."
I texted back: "6:30."
She texted back: "Okay, 6:30, see you there."
After sending the text, I turned off my phone.
I asked the hospital for leave and drove around the city. I first got a haircut at the barbershop,
then browsed some pornographic DVDs at the bootlegging market, and finally filled my stomach at a small noodle shop.
I finally made it to 6:15, turned on my phone, and called YY to tell her I'd just had surgery and
was on my way. There was a lot of traffic, but I'd definitely be there before 6:30. She said she'd arrived and told me
to drive carefully.
I parked near the Friendship Hospital, sat quietly in the car, smoking, and indifferently listened to my phone ring
five times—all calls from YY. I didn't answer. Around 7:00, I swerved the steering wheel and violently
crashed into a stone pillar by the roadside.
I lay on a stretcher, my face covered in blood, being taken to the hospital. I sent YY a text message saying, "I've had
an accident, come to XX Hospital."
Lying on the hospital bed, my head bandaged, half an hour later, I watched YY run in, looking distraught.
Before she entered, I saw her almost fall in the narrow corridor. She sat on the edge of the bed, helplessly
holding my hand, trying to comfort me, but I could clearly feel her trembling.
"You don't need to rush like this..." After a long while, she finally managed to say, holding back her tears.
"A man," I said gently, looking at her tenderly, "must keep his promises."
Hearing this, she couldn't hold back any longer and burst into tears, throwing herself into my arms.
I stroked her hair; I wanted to cry too—but these were tears of joy. When her lover put my
wife's child in his womb, waving the green flag to humiliate me, I had done it too, letting his other child nestle in my arms
and weep.
Deep in my soul, the goal was as clear as a lighthouse: since my wife could wholeheartedly sacrifice
everything for him, I would also make his daughter willingly offer her purity to me.
YY took two days off to stay with me at the hospital.
The first day.
I lay in bed, saying I had a headache, and she was anxious to call a doctor. I took her hand and said I was the doctor
, just massage my head. She was very careful, afraid of hurting me. I kept saying, "Gently
, gently..." until the massage turned into caressing, and then I stopped. I closed my eyes contentedly and began to
focus on enjoying the pleasure of her soft hands touching my body.
After a while, I complained of arm pain, back pain, leg pain, buttock pain... She obediently and carefully caressed
my whole body. I also carefully appreciated her shyness when she caressed my thigh.
That night, while I was getting an IV drip, she didn't leave and asked for an extra bed.
The next day
, around 2 a.m., I yelled. She woke up, rushed to my bedside in a panic, and asked in alarm, "What's
wrong?"
I said, "My heart hurts, I feel like I'm dying." She cried out in fright. I took her hand and placed it on my chest, smiling
as I said, "I missed you so much, I almost died of longing."
She was both happy and angry, unable to speak for a long time, only pushing and hitting me with her hands. I pulled her into my arms and kissed her
. She resisted instinctively for a moment, then stopped moving, her eyes tightly shut. I kissed
those trembling, tender lips with ecstasy, like an ant drawn to honey, feeling a little dizzy.
In that instant, I felt as if I were back in the days of my first love, nestled close to my wife, the most beautiful sun in the world
rising again from the depths of my heart, illuminating every corner of my soul.
These past two days, I've done nothing but kiss.
I'll take it one step at a time.
Things are going smoothly with YY.
Whenever I have free time, I go to her school. We eat together, watch movies, stroll, whisper sweet nothings, and count
the stars in the sky. It's clear she's happy with me.
When night falls, we often sit on the benches by the grove. I like to bury my head in
her body and breathe deeply, wanting to inhale that virgin fragrance, let it circulate in my blood, spread
to my cells, and remain in my memory forever.
Every time I kissed and caressed her, her shy, dazed, and longing eyes would intoxicate me.
I would always greedily swallow her sweet, dew-like saliva, perhaps hoping it could
extinguish my burning hatred;
I would always passionately stir her cotton-candy-like, tender tongue, perhaps this could temporarily
numb my broken heart;
my hands would always firmly and tirelessly explore her trembling, burning body…
Perhaps, just perhaps, I subconsciously hoped my wife would cheat on me.
During this time, I've been living in a rented apartment, rarely going home, and basically never calling home. My wife does
call occasionally, reminding me to come home and change clothes, smoke less, and not stay up late, etc. I always
respond lazily, as bland as a sheet of paper. I wonder: is it distance that makes the heart grow fonder? Or does she want to change her mind?
Unfortunately, I've lost all interest in the answer to this question. Since I met YY, my
feelings for my wife have been fading at an alarming rate. If my hatred before was mixed with jealousy and longing, now
all my revenge has a simple and clear purpose: to regain my dignity from my shattered self-esteem.
The 18th was YY's birthday.
On the 17th, I asked YY to give me a complete birthday celebration. She asked, "What do you mean?"
I said, "Your entire day is at my disposal."
She pretended to consider it for a moment, then smiled and said, "Okay."
Around 1:00 AM on the 18th, I called her, saying I was downstairs at her dorm and asked her to come down with her ID.
She came downstairs, still half asleep, and asked what was wrong. I told her it was her birthday. I put her in the car
and drove straight to the airport. She seemed to only fully wake up when we boarded the 3:15 AM flight to Urumqi
.
After arriving in Urumqi, we transferred to the 8:00 AM flight to Yining. After arriving in Yining at 9:00 AM, we took a three-
hour bus ride. At 12:30 AM, when she saw the beautiful Narat Grassland, she excitedly hugged me.
We mounted horses on the left side of the grassland, and after about twenty minutes, we entered the center of the grassland and saw
the largest yurt on the Narat Grassland.
I led her into the yurt. As soon as we stepped onto the red carpet, music filled the air, and a dozen or so Kazakh boys
and girls swarmed around her like princesses, singing and dancing.
YY was stunned, staring at me blankly. I took her hand, led her through the crowd to a large dining
table, sat down, took out a piece of lustrous green Hetian jade, and placed it around her neck, saying, "YY,
I've been preparing for this day for a month. Happy birthday."
Tears welled in YY's eyes, and she hugged me tightly.
That day, inspired by the unique warmth of the Kazakhs, we sang and danced with them,
drinking bowls of slightly sour mare's milk, singing and drinking, dancing and drinking, until finally, we all passed out drunk in the yurt.
That night, we stayed in the yurt. Outside, the bright moonlight bathed the beautiful grassland; inside,
YY lay quietly in my arms. I undressed her, revealing a body more alluring than moonlight. Seeing
her tightly closed thighs trembling in my hands, I felt no pity. Entering her, she
reacted instinctively, experiencing a resistance she hadn't intended.
[attach]1276567[/attach][attach]1276570[/attach]
When bright red blood splattered on the snow-white sheets, it formed a tiny rose petal,
a breathtakingly beautiful sight. I tucked the sheets away and put them in my suitcase.
All night, she clung to me like a kitten, nestled in my arms, her eyes filled with tears.
That day, I slept soundly.
Finally, my third foot entered her body; this would surely become her most enduring memory.
On the way back, we crossed the Yining River Bridge. In the afterglow of the setting sun, someone played an accordion on the bridge.
Guided by the cheerful music, we saw a Uyghur couple walking in the middle of the bridge.
A large crowd of wedding guests and onlookers had gathered, speaking languages we couldn't understand, cheering
and offering their blessings.
YY held me tightly, gazing longingly at the lively scene outside the car window; her joy seemed contagious.
She rested her head on my chest, saying dreamily, "Brother, when we get married, let's walk across the Yining
River Bridge too, okay?"
I stroked her hair and whispered, "Okay."
She closed her eyes happily and fell asleep almost immediately.
The flight back from Xinjiang took half an hour less than the way there.
We landed at the city airport before 2 PM. After collecting our luggage, I took YY's hand and
walked towards the exit. Suddenly, I spotted a familiar figure in the crowd of people waiting to pick up passengers, and it sent a chill down my spine.
I told YY to go outside and wait for me, then quickly turned back, planning to hide in the restroom for a while. Before
I could even take a step, a loud voice shouted, "Brother-in-law, I'm here to pick you up!"
Immediately, Xiao Song's tall figure rushed over, snatched the luggage from my hands like a robber, grabbed my arm,
and headed for the door.
YY looked at Xiao Song with surprise, then turned to me, gazing at me expectantly. I knew she
wanted to hear me say, "I'm sorry, you've mistaken me for someone else."
But I could only lower my head, shrinking away from her hopeful eyes. As I
walked out, my face ashen, my heart ached terribly, the pain almost unbearable. I dared not look back, afraid that if I did, I would
see her suddenly faint.
Xiao Song hadn't driven, which made me even more suspicious of his motives.
We got my car from the parking lot (my car was at the airport), Xiao Song sat in the front, and YY was practically slumped in the back
seat.
All the way, Xiao Song kept talking to himself, cleverly keeping the focus
on me, my wife, and her belly. I knew he was introducing
me to YY through his self-talk. His words were like scimitars slowly torturing YY, bullets piercing me one by one. I
knew my despicable actions were being torn apart by a despicable person using despicable methods.
YY initially gritted her teeth and endured it, but slowly, she began to sob softly. In the rearview mirror, she covered
her face with her hands, trembling all over, tears streaming from between her fingers… She tried to suppress her emotions, but only let the grief run
deep.
My face was ashen, and I wanted nothing more than to kick Xiao Song out of the car. I didn't say a word, pressing
the accelerator with all my might, the car almost floating on the road—I needed to get away from this person as soon as possible.
When I dropped YY off at school, she was weak and could barely walk. I tried to help her up, but she
pushed me away with disgust. As she gradually blurred from my sight, a growing anxiety about losing her forever
intensified within me. My eyes welled up with tears.
I drove out of the school gate and asked Xiao Song why. Xiao Song said it was for revenge. I was silent for a moment, then asked him
how he knew my whereabouts. He sneered and said he was a policeman and naturally had the means.
I told him to get out of the car, and he drove away without looking back.
I sat motionless in the car, gazing at the girls' dormitory building inside the walls, smoking one cigarette after another,
from afternoon until nightfall, until dawn.
The next morning, I went to her dorm to look for her. She wasn't there; my roommate said she hadn't returned all night. I searched the entire campus for her,
and finally found her sitting blankly on a couple's chair near a grove of trees. I went over and hugged her, but she didn't move, only
tears streamed down her face.
Afraid she might do something foolish, I stayed with her. At noon, I bought her a boxed lunch and tried to feed her, but she kept her head away. I
forced the food into her mouth, but she spit it out. I managed to feed her a few sips of mineral water, and tears started flowing again,
the flow much stronger than the inlet.
In the evening, exhausted, she fell asleep in my arms. Occasionally, a faint smile appeared on her face in her sleep.
I thought perhaps she was dreaming of happy times from the past, and thinking of this, I felt a pang of sadness.
In the early morning, she woke up and cried again. I tried to comfort her, but she looked annoyed, hit me,
and wouldn't let me near her or listen to me. Because I had to leave the hospital that morning, I told her I had to go and
would come back to see her that evening.
She didn't comment, but when I removed my hand from her shoulder, I could clearly feel her trembling.
Her longing was palpable, and tears streamed down her face.
That evening, when I went back to school, my classmates said YY had gone home.
I tried calling her cell phone, but it was off. I sent her countless text messages, but received no reply.
As I walked back, Xiao Tan called, saying she saw my car and wanted me to stop and say
a few words. I pulled over and turned off the engine, and Xiao Tan arrived.
After a few pleasantries, Xiao Tan subtly inquired about her sister-in-law's recent situation, implying she hoped I could help arrange something
. My disgust for Xiao Song forced me to treat his rival as an ally, even if he was just
a tool I had used for revenge in the past and present.
There's always a way out; Xiao Tan's appearance rekindled my hope of driving Xiao Song out of my life.
I understood his lingering feelings for his sister-in-law, and sighed, saying, "If you want to see her, I don't know
if I can help. Recently, a policeman surnamed Song has been relentlessly pursuing her."
Xiao Tan gritted her teeth, saying she knew this man had been pursuing her sister-in-law. When they used to date, she
often received calls from this policeman, and they had even argued because of him.
I said, "You don't know, but this policeman surnamed Song orchestrated your breakup."
Xiao Tan grabbed me excitedly, eagerly pressing me for details. I shook my head, pretending to have something difficult to say,
and hesitated to speak.
He panicked and suddenly knelt on the ground, saying, "Brother-in-law, don't worry, I understand your situation. Tell me
the whole story, and I will never betray you. If I divulge a single word, I, Tan XX, will die a horrible death."
I quickly helped him up and said, "This matter is of great importance, concerning my sister's reputation. I shouldn't have
told you. But firstly, I feel sorry for you. Secondly, since you've already said this, it would
be too unrighteous for me to keep it from you. However, I will treat what I said today as mere rambling to thin air, something you overheard
. Even if you tell others about it later, I will never admit it."
Little Tan swore again that even if he died, he would never utter a single word about it to anyone.
I turned away from him, and as if talking to myself, I looked up at the sky and said, "I have a younger sister who has always
loved a young man surnamed Tan. They are deeply in love, and their wedding date has been set. However, her colleague
, a policeman surnamed Song, has been harassing her for years. When this policeman heard about their upcoming marriage, he took advantage of
a business trip to rape her, took photos, and threatened to release them if she didn't stay with him.
For the sake of her reputation, my sister had no choice but to painfully break up with Tan and get together with this
policeman."
After I finished speaking, I turned around and saw that Tan's face was contorted with rage. He
slammed his fist into the car, almost deforming it. He said, "No wonder she was so resolute when we broke up,
but she wouldn't give any reason." Then he turned and left.
Just as I was about to light a cigarette to celebrate, he rushed back, stood in front of me, and shouted, "Brother-in-law,
I will never let this beast get away with this, I swear!"
I patted him on the shoulder, said nothing, and turned to get into the car. I slowly drove
forward, coldly watching his furious figure disappear into the distance in the rearview mirror.
For over a month, I persisted in sending YY text messages every day. Although I didn't receive a single reply,
occasionally looking through the sent messages and reflecting on my emotional journey brought
a faint sense of satisfaction amidst the feeling of loss and defeat.
I also called YY every day, and without exception, I was met with the cold, robotic female voice: "User's phone is switched off
, please try again later." I cursed fiercely—I thought, the woman whose voice belonged must have been
mentally violated by countless strange men.
Time passed day by day, and two months went by in the blink of an eye. There was still no word from YY. I went to the school
several times, and each time, YY's classmates told me she wasn't there. Each time, their cold and arrogant attitude
pierced through those two words like arrows, conveying their deep disdain and
hatred for me.
This severely damaged my self-esteem. Usually, I don't care if others hate me, scold me, or even
hit me. What I fear is being looked down upon—that's more painful than being slowly sliced to death. From then on, I stopped
texting and calling; I started considering letting go.
One weekend, I called my wife to tell her I was coming home at noon, bringing dirty clothes to wash and a few
clean clothes to take with me. After arriving home, I greeted my mother-in-law first, then spoke briefly with my wife. I told her the hospital
had been busy lately, and I was resting better at our rented apartment, where everything was convenient. My wife told me to take care of myself and didn't
say much more.
At lunchtime, the table was laden with dishes. I initially thought guests were coming, but upon closer inspection, they were all
my favorites. I ate a couple of bites and then retreated to my study. Half an hour later, the housekeeper came in to mop the floor, and I casually asked
her a few questions, only to find out that my wife had specially arranged the meal.
In the afternoon, I went to pay my phone bill. After finishing the paperwork, I suddenly remembered that YY hadn't brought her phone with her when she went to Xinjiang; she had buried...
I was so upset that my phone was almost out of credit. I pondered for a long time, and then an idea popped into my head. I immediately dialed her number,
but it was still switched off; it wasn't a notification of unpaid bills or suspension. I realized one thing: YY
was still paying her phone bill after our breakup—YY had a global roaming plan, which included landline fees.
I sat in the mobile service center, carefully analyzing the thoughts behind her strange behavior.
First, I realized another thing: YY kept her phone off all day because she didn't want to face me. So, was she paying the bill
also for me?
Since her phone was off all day, and no one could contact her through that number for the past two months, why
didn't she give up the number and instead continued to pay the bill every month? If she was determined to break up with me, wouldn't it have been cleaner to suspend the phone service
? —But she didn't do that. I started to feel a little overjoyed. I guessed it was because she kept
the number to see my text messages.
Because of the humiliation, she didn't want to answer my calls; because of longing, she wanted to see my text messages. By doing this, she could
protect herself and avoid facing the contradiction between longing and humiliation.
I began to confirm the third thing: she was thinking of me. Reaching this possible conclusion, I was so excited I
practically jumped up from my chair in the phone booth.
To confirm my theory, I rushed out, bought a public phone card, and started calling her cell phone incessantly
. It was off… still off… seemingly always off… I patiently pressed the
redial button again and again—I knew she would turn it on at some point during the day to check her messages.
Finally, around 1 a.m., the phone connected clearly.
My hand holding the receiver trembled—the excitement in my heart was like seeing a long-withered rose suddenly
bloom before my eyes.
The call lasted a long time before YY answered. I knew she was guessing and hesitating.
"YY…" I called out, but didn't know what to say. On the other end of the line, she was as silent as a grave
.
After two minutes, she hung up.
I sent her a text message: "I miss you so much."
After a while, she replied: "Uncle, if there's an afterlife, I'd like to... miss you."
I texted again: "YY, I'll get a divorce, I promise."
This time she replied a little faster: "You're still lying to me."
I texted again: "If I lie to you, I won't see the sun tomorrow."
After a long while, she replied: "The weather forecast says it will rain tomorrow."
I thought for a moment and texted: "If the sun comes out tomorrow, it means God is also pitying our love
and has changed his mind about raining. If the sun comes out tomorrow, will you obey God and forgive me?"
She replied: "God won't pity you, it will definitely rain tomorrow."
I texted again, insisting on asking: "If the sun comes out tomorrow, will you forgive me?"
She didn't reply again.
In the middle of the night, suddenly there was lightning and thunder, and a torrential downpour began. I stood
on the balcony of my rented room, standing there stupidly all night. Just before dawn, I went back inside in despair and fell into a deep sleep.
When I woke up the next day, it was already noon. I opened my eyes and saw a ray of sunlight, like an angel falling
on my blanket. I couldn't help but burst into laughter.
At that moment, I truly believed that heaven had eyes, that it was silently pitying my plight and generously bestowing
upon me a new love. Later, I realized that heaven is so cruel and heartless; its deliberate manipulation of fate
was actually a way to further torment life's tragedies.
That afternoon, I went to school to find YY.
At lunchtime, I waited at the cafeteria entrance and spotted her figure in the distance. I walked towards her. Seeing
me, she turned and ran. I chased after her and tried to grab her, but she broke free and continued running towards the dormitory. I rushed up
to her, blocked her path, and pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly around the waist. She punched me
for a while, then finally gave up, her head slumped onto my shoulder, and she sobbed uncontrollably.
That evening, I forced her to eat with me. I made countless promises, and she shed endless tears.
That day, by the time I remembered to take her back to school, I couldn't get back in. I booked a
room at a nearby hotel. We agreed to sleep separately. In the middle of the night, she crawled into my bed, hugged me tightly from behind, and
bit my shoulder hard. I rolled over, stripped her naked, and quickly entered her; she was already soaking wet
…
That morning, when I went limp inside her for the fourth time, she concentrated all her strength on her sharp
nails, scratching a deep, long gash on my back.
From then on, to make up for some of my shortcomings, I started taking her to meet some of my wife's friends
.
One day, I took YY to a friend surnamed Lin's birthday party. After a few rounds of drinks, Lin pulled me
aside, put his hand on my shoulder, and mysteriously asked me what my relationship with YY was. I honestly told him we were lovers
. He gave me a thumbs-up, gesturing exaggeratedly a few times, and said, "You're really something, you've
managed to make the daughter of the deputy director of the provincial department your lover."
That's when I learned that my lover had been transferred to the provincial department.
Dalin used to be my patient; he'd been working on bridge projects and was doing quite well. We were all usually busy,
so we rarely got together. Since he found out about my relationship with YY, he'd been noticeably more flattering
, and our interactions had become much more frequent.
One day, Dalin invited me to dinner again. During the meal, he mentioned a large project; he
'd almost secured all the other connections, but it was stuck with Department Y—they wouldn't budge, and he expected trouble with the bidding process. He took
a sip of his drink and asked if I could help. A thought crossed my mind, and I agreed to try.
Before leaving, he gave me his details, gesturing with his hand to indicate that it could be done if the amount didn't exceed a certain threshold.
I said, "It might take some time."
He smiled and said, "Haste makes waste, no rush."
That night, I thought about it for a long time. Was my lover still worth revenge on? What if I hurt YY? Finally, I told
myself I was a man, a resolute and decisive man, and with the help of alcohol, I finally convinced myself.
The next morning, I called YY and said I wanted to meet her parents. She was surprised on the phone and asked why
. I laughed and said I wanted to win her parents' support for her marrying an ordinary married man.
She laughed on the phone, saying I was crazy, and that just because I could drive her crazy didn't mean I could drive the whole world
crazy. Even when I hung up, she thought I was just joking.
After work, I had dinner with YY.
I mentioned meeting her parents again. She refused without hesitation. I told her it wouldn't be in the traditional way;
I would win her parents' favor with a completely different persona.
She was curious and asked, "What kind of different persona?"
I said, "Piano teacher."
YY's mouth dropped open for a long time.
While serving her food, I explained my plan. I told her to go home and tell her parents she wanted to learn piano, and they
would naturally hire a piano teacher. And I happened to be an amateur piano expert; tutoring her and fooling some complete novices
would be no problem at all.
This way, I could smoothly enter her home and gradually establish myself in her parents' minds as a professional
pianist and an amateur piano prince. When the time was right, I could then announce our relationship to
the public, making it easier for them to accept. After I finished explaining my plan, YY smiled happily and even began to admire
my intelligence and romanticism.
Before letting YY launch this plan, I spent some time handling the details. First, I
loitered around YY's house for two days. Several times, I pretended to bump into her lover by chance. When he saw me, he showed no unease or surprise
, which confirmed that he didn't know me, and my wife hadn't shown him any photos. Second, I
obtained some fake professional certificates and ID cards. After all, playing the piano is just a hobby for me, and I don't have any certificates.
Here, I encountered a small problem: explaining my name change to YY. I told her that this was also my
real name, the name I took my mother's surname when I was a child. In the last two years, I took my father's surname, Tang, because I felt that my old name wasn't good,
so I changed it again. Coincidentally, I lost my ID card, but I still had my old one, so I used my old name again. She was skeptical
and somewhat dissatisfied, but didn't take it to heart. She grumbled a couple of times and still did as I said.
During this time, YY expressed her desire to learn piano to her mother. During the interviews, she used various excuses
to refuse several music teachers her father had found. Finally, YY lied to her mother, saying that a classmate had recommended her
piano teacher, and since she couldn't find a suitable one, she should call that teacher over for a look.
YY's mother agreed.
Finally, one weekend evening, using the alias Lin XX, I stepped confidently and
nervously into my lover's house.
My lover's house was elegantly decorated. Upon entering, I
felt as if the dust had been suddenly wiped away from my troubled soul.
YY and her mother were waiting for me in the living room; my lover wasn't home.
Before leaving, YY had warned me that her mother was a cold and mean person (
even worse than some of the women upstairs), difficult to get along with. Often, guests who made offensive remarks were kicked out on the spot. YY said,
"Because of her poor relationship with my father, my mother is extremely averse to men." These words
put a lot of psychological pressure on me for this meeting.
Actually, YY's mother has a nice name, Lan Yu. At first glance, she doesn't seem as cold as YY described
—although time has taken its toll, and the lines of hardship are beginning to appear on her brows, she still retains
a subtle, graceful charm. I silently cursed my lover for his good fortune.
However, just a few minutes later, I began to experience my lover's misfortune.
As soon as we sat down, this woman examined my resume meticulously, like she was interrogating a criminal.
Every now and then, she would look up, first scanning me with distrustful eyes, and then, suddenly, in a condescending
tone, asking some sharp and sarcastic questions.
Finally, after she closed her eyes, lay on the sofa like a mummy, and listened to my performance, she waved
her hand, without even opening her eyes, and coldly said, "You're not suitable for my YY. You can leave."
My proud self-esteem was shattered by her, and I was so heartbroken that I couldn't utter a single word. I
didn't even bother to pack up the forged documents and walked out of the living room.
As I was about to step out the door and disappear quickly, I could still hear her mocking voice as she watched my retreating figure:
"Have you really studied piano?" Then came a disdainful laugh.
Hearing this, my anger surpassed reason and hatred. I turned back into the living room, pointed to a
painting on the wall, and shouted at her, "Mother-in-law, do you really understand this painting? Hanging up a shoddy
forgery of Hai Rui is to showcase your shoddy taste?" After saying that, I ripped the painting down,
threw it on the ground, and stomped on it twice.
YY's face turned pale with fright. She huddled in the corner of the sofa, secretly waving at me, signaling me to leave quickly
.
Her mother, however, let out a soft "oh," a flicker of life appearing in her tomb-like eyes.
She coughed, sat up straight, and slowly said, "This was hung by YY's father. He knew
it was a fake from the start. I've always opposed graffiti like this on the walls, but her father insisted on doing it to impress visiting officials
. Guests who came all lied and complimented it, saying it was genuine. Only you
were honest. You tore it down, which was a bit rash, but I'm very happy."
I stood there, dumbfounded. I thought to myself, "A resentful woman's mind is truly unfathomable.
When you try to flatter her, she'll kick you; when you try to slap her, she'll give you a hug."
She beckoned me to sit on the sofa and asked me some questions about art appreciation.
Misfortune may be a blessing in disguise, and a blessing may be a misfortune in disguise. The cycle of life is so strange.
Our conversation quickly expanded beyond the paintings and calligraphy. As our conversation deepened, I became increasingly surprised to discover that
beneath her heavy armor, YY's deputy-section-level mother, like some pretentious, abandoned young girls, and
some affectedly profound nuns, revered classical literature.
She liked seven-character regulated verse and even specially retrieved several of her recent works from her study for me to appreciate. I gritted my teeth,
I recited an old poem I used to woo the school beauty, but which she used to use as toilet paper. After so long,
YY's mother, no longer smelling the toilet, clapped her hands repeatedly, praising the rhythm and imagery. Her eyes held
a newfound expectation for me.
The piano teacher issue was also resolved—perhaps in a woman's heart, right and wrong are always
judged by emotions. Although I achieved my goal, it was far from the planned steps, which made me feel a little ashamed of myself
.
The next day, YY called, saying that after I left the night before, her mother was excited for a long time, saying I was very interesting and called
her "Grandma."
"YY, let me sing you an old love song:
'You are my heart, you are my liver, you are my stomach, you are my lungs, you are the red rose in my heart
.'"
That evening, I accompanied YY to see a movie, a tragic love story. After the movie, she cried uncontrollably, standing
in the aisle outside the screening room, pressing her little head against my chest, rubbing against me, and refusing to let me wipe it off.
I told her the movie was fake, that it wasn't right to say that, or people would think I was bullying her. She cried even harder
, saying, "You are bullying me!" I remained silent, gently stroking her back with one hand and putting my arm around her waist with the other, and
we walked out.
Once we reached the street, seeing the bright lights and bustling activity on both sides, she seemed to finally recover from the movie.
We held hands and walked to the district government square. The square was lively; a group of elderly women were dancing in the open space, and
some children were rollerblading.
She pulled me to the center of the square, made me sit on a flower bed, and told me not to move.
Then, she stood aside and stopped a passerby who looked like a student.
YY handed him her phone and said something to him. After she finished speaking, she ran over and sat on my lap. I laughed
and said, "What are you doing? Seducing a handsome guy in front of an old man like this? Do you even want an old man to live?" She ignored me,
cupped my cheeks in her hands, and kissed me fiercely.
Her deep affection, conveyed through her burning lips, moved me deeply. I held her tightly, longing to be one with her. I bit
her lower lip, responding just as passionately…
as if in that instant, the world solidified into love. We were intoxicated by each other's scent, unwilling
to part for a long time.
In the bustling crowd, my eyes saw only her; in the noisy square, her heart was filled only with me.
When the student smiled and returned her phone, YY said shyly, "Thank you."
YY flipped through her phone, setting the photo as her screensaver and caller ID. After finishing, she
jumped for joy, pestering me to call her dozens of times. On the way to her dormitory, I casually asked her, " 　　What would you do
if I hurt you one day ?" As soon as 　　the words left my mouth, I regretted them. YY quickly let go of my hand, silent, and walked quickly forward with her head down 　　. When we reached the dormitory building, she said, "I would never hurt you." 　　After saying that, she ran upstairs. 　　After visiting YY's house more often, I also became familiar with Lan Yu. 　　At first, I called her Director Lan, but she didn't like it, laughing and saying it sounded better 　　to call me Mother-in-law. I said, "Where in the world is there such a beautiful and charming mother-in-law? Just call me Sister Lan." She scolded me for being frivolous, a faint smile appearing on her lips. 　　I usually went to YY's house between 6 and 10 pm, but I only ran into her lover once; he was 　　rarely home. 　　I had felt ashamed of my wife's taste when I first saw her lover in photos. Although 　　a man's appearance has never been the key to attracting women throughout history, I still wondered 　　why my wife could become aesthetically fatigued by my incredibly ugly lover. Was it simply because of his heavy official hat? 　　Her lover was short, thin, with protruding eyes, but a large belly; from a distance, he looked like a 　　toad suffering from famine. 　　When I met him, he was walking out, talking on the phone incessantly. When he saw me, he just nodded 　　, without even slowing his pace, and went out. 　　My first encounter with my lover ended with him 　　completely ignoring me. This scene has always made me depressed. When I discovered my wife's infidelity, I fantasized about a duel with her lover 　　atop Mount Hua, one wielding the Dragon-Slaying Saber, the other the Heaven-Reliant Sword, each using unparalleled martial arts, fighting until the heavens and earth trembled 　　... Though the outcome was uncertain, the heroic spirit would endure. 　　However, reality is cruel, as cruel as a phoenix in a dream, only to be used as 　　a snack after waking up. 　　Fortunately, my relationship with Lan Yu is progressing smoothly, and I believe winning her over is just a matter of time. 　　I think I'll come in wearing a light green hat and leave wearing a dark red one. On 　　the 7th, my wife's uncle passed away. He was a businessman who owned a FAW-Volkswagen 4S dealership in the area 　　. 　　Early in the morning, my wife called me, and we arranged to attend the memorial service together that evening. 　　That evening, I went home to pick up my wife. Driving to Lincheng, when we arrived at her uncle's house, the courtyard was already full of cars, and the mourning 　　hall was crowded with relatives and friends. 　　Entering the mourning hall, I immediately saw my wife's younger sister. She was facing away from us, arranging funeral couplets with my cousin. 　　I told my wife that her sister had arrived and was busy over there. Looking back, my wife's younger sister had just turned 　　around to clean up the paper money, and my wife's view was blocked by her cousin's tall figure. 　　I looked around for a long time but couldn't find any trace of Xiao Song. At this moment, my wife's younger sister saw us 　　. She came over, took my wife's hand, and spoke without greeting me. 　　From their conversation, I deduced that the two sisters hadn't been in contact for a long time. I lit a cigarette, left 　　the mourning hall, and continued searching for Xiao Song. After confirming he hadn't come, I returned to the mourning hall. I stood 　　beside my wife, quietly listening to their conversation. I knew my wife would definitely ask about Xiao Song. 　　Sure enough, my wife asked, "Why didn't Xiao Song come?" My 　　wife's younger sister remained silent. I noticed her glance at me slightly out of the corner of her eye before I heard her 　　say, "He's preparing for the wedding." 　　My wife asked in surprise, "Getting married? I've never heard you mention it?" 　　My sister-in-law said, "It was just decided."

On the way home, my wife couldn't contain her excitement and talked to herself non-stop. She praised Xiao Song endlessly
, saying that he had pursued her for so many years, facing many hardships, but thankfully, heaven had eyes and allowed the lovers to finally be together.
I ignored her, silently driving, my mind filled with suspicion. Because when the topic of marriage came up, my sister
-in-law's expression was even more sorrowful than her cousin's, whose father had just died.
A week later, I received their wedding invitation.
The invitation was sent to the hospital by express mail, and the date was set for the 18th of next month.
At lunch, another question flashed through my mind: since the wedding wasn't until the 14th of next month,
why did my sister-in-law lie and say he was preparing for the wedding when my wife asked why Xiao Song hadn't attended the funeral?
Back in the office, I called my sister-in-law, told her I had received the invitation, and said some
platitudes like wishing them a long and happy marriage. She was indifferent on the other end of the phone, as if she were listening to me talk about someone else's business, occasionally letting out a cold laugh
. I became increasingly suspicious and asked her if something had happened and if she needed my help. She
said quietly, "Then come over tonight, I'll take you to see someone."
That evening, I went to pick up my sister-in-law.
She was dressed casually, with a touch of makeup, but her expression was cold and stern. She gave me directions like a traffic cop,
refusing to say a word more than necessary.
Following her directions, the car stopped in the parking lot of the Third Municipal Hospital. My sister-in-law led me into the dermatology ward
. Pushing open the door to room 509, I was shocked to see Xiao Song lying on the bed, her lower body wrapped in bandages.
When I entered, Xiao Song didn't react; I didn't know if she was unconscious or asleep. I stood by the
bed and looked at her. Based on the location of the bandages and the IV medication, I basically determined that her genitals had been burned by chemicals
.
I turned around in surprise to find my sister-in-law, who was staring at me coldly.
I asked her what had happened, and she retorted, "Don't you know?" I remembered Xiao Tan and asked again, "Is it Xiao Tan
?"
She nodded and calmly said, "Xiao Tan threw sulfuric acid on his genitals." I pressed her for Xiao Tan's whereabouts,
but she didn't answer. Instead, she turned away and tears streamed down her face. After a while, she said, "Brother-in-law, is it really you?"
I trembled, feeling somewhat at a loss. I walked past her, intending to push open the ward door and rush out
. She grabbed my arm and silently led me through the corridor, down the elevator, to
the garden below the inpatient building.
"Xiao Tan assaulted a police officer; it's a serious crime. He's already in the detention center," my sister-in-law said, standing beside me as if
talking to thin air.
"Oh," I said.
"I went to see him, and he told me what you said," she continued.
"Oh."
"Actually, I've never been with Xiao Song. I introduced him to my boyfriend at my mother's birthday party that day, but
I lied," she added.
I was somewhat surprised and didn't say anything.
"He's always liked me, for many years," my sister-in-law said again.
"We all know."
"If we interrogate Xiao Tan, you won't escape the charge of instigation either," my sister-in-law said.
"Yes," I replied expressionlessly.
My sister-in-law turned to look at me, her eyes brimming with tears . She said loudly, "The only way to protect you is to protect
Xiao Tan. The only way to protect Xiao Tan is to get Xiao Song to drop the charges, saying it was accidental injury." Her tears flowed, and the air
seemed to freeze with sorrow. After a long while, I heard her say again, "Xiao Song agreed, on the condition that he marries me
."
Hearing this, I became agitated. I grabbed her arm tightly and shook it violently. I called her stupid,
a fool. I told her loudly that it wasn't worth it for a scoundrel like me, that I would never let you
marry that good-for-nothing, not even if I died.
She wiped away her tears, smiled, and said, "We registered the day before yesterday. We went there on a stretcher because Xiao
Song was worried. There's a time limit for being detained in the detention center; Xiao Tan will be released before the wedding."
She paused, then added, "Anyway, hearing you say that makes me so happy."
After a while, she looked up at the starry sky with tearful eyes and said sadly, "You're very bad, but I love
you."
I hugged her tightly and burst into tears.
For a while, the thought of my sister-in-law pained me; I felt like I wasn't a man. Knowing that a
woman sacrificed her happiness for your freedom was a heavy burden, almost suffocating.
Every time I held YY, a deep sense of guilt towards my sister-in-law overwhelmed me. And the impulse of lust
made me realize I was a selfish, greedy, and despicable person.
For a while, I deliberately distanced myself from YY, using excuses like night shifts, surgery, and meetings to repeatedly refuse
her dates. Deep down, I longed to respond to my sister-in-law's painful life with solitary loyalty. Alas
, I couldn't do it; I couldn't hold on. Every cry of YY tore at my heart,
every tear of hers drowned my soul. It was a contradiction between reason and emotion.
I once approached my sister-in-law, hoping she would break up with Xiao Song and be with me. She said it was too late, brother-
in-law, maybe in the next life. Actually, I knew that my wife, Xiao Song, and even YY were
insurmountable obstacles in our hearts and in reality, obstacles intertwined with love. There was no right or wrong, only a matter of first come, first served.
Only hatred could make me forget everything. As my wife tenderly stroked her protruding belly,
the flames of hatred began to burn fiercely. I love YY, I love my sister-in-law, and I even love my wife. However, what I
love most is myself. My shattered self-esteem is destined to be glued together with the blood of their wounds. Either I continue to
break, or the people I love break. I chose the latter, and it's a tragedy.
It's too disrespectful to everyone's ethics and morals. Finally, I launched my first attack on Lan Yu.
Before taking formal action, as usual, I began to gather information about my target. After countless feints
and indirect inquiries, I basically grasped Lan Yu's romantic history and personality
traits from YY and Lan Yu herself.
Lan Yu comes from a scholarly family, has some talent, and holds a sinecure as the deputy director of finance in a certain bureau. In her youth...
Beautiful and aloof, with a high opinion of herself, she had a long line of suitors. Initially, her lover was
nowhere near their level, destined to drown. Later, through some unknown means, he jumped to
the front of the queue and gradually gained favor.
Two years later, he finally won her over with all his might.
They married that year, and she gave birth to YY. While having a child that year is normal,
it was somewhat strange that both he and Lan Yu were very young at the time of the birth. I suspect he used underhanded tactics to force the marriage:
forcing Lan Yu into pregnancy before marriage, then using the child to pressure her into marriage.
As the years passed, his power grew, and the temptations he faced increased exponentially.
Their relationship went from passionate to lukewarm, then from lukewarm to tense. In the last two years, he has repeatedly asked for a divorce, which
Lan Yu has refused.
So, her lover started leaving early and returning late, or even not returning at all, essentially living as husband and wife in name
only.
One can imagine the psychological impact on Lan Yu, going from a proud princess to a pathetic, abandoned wife. This is likely
the main reason for her aversion to men and her cold, harsh nature.
Fortunately, Lan Yu didn't reject me; in fact, I felt she seemed to enjoy talking to me and being close to me.
I think it's true what they say: the tougher the armor, the softer the body underneath, like a turtle's shell.
Lan Yu and I are both turtles; the difference is that beneath her shell might be a soft body,
while beneath mine is a cold heart.
Among this information, the fact that her lover had repeatedly filed for divorce in the past two years greatly surprised me.
First, this means my wife and lover have been having an affair for at least two years. Our marriage is less than four years old, and my wife
's deep-seated suspicion terrifies me.
Second, I originally thought her lover wouldn't do anything to harm her future, let alone divorce
her. It seems I was too subjective and underestimated the power of love.
This strengthened my resolve for revenge and urged me to accelerate its pace. I needed to
resolve this matter before my lover successfully divorced. Otherwise, once he was divorced, his wife would inevitably file for divorce as well. This
would mean I, the cuckold, would be abandoned, which would be like adding another green feather to my green hat, signifying that
I still had a title in this green world.
On the 27th, I received information from YY that Lan Yu was going to Hainan for a four-day conference next week.
I carefully inquired about the conference location, which was at the ×× Hotel.
The day before Lan Yu's departure, I arrived in Hainan early and checked into that hotel. The hotel was by the sea; opening the
window revealed the sun umbrellas on the beach and the salty, humid air.
The next day at noon, Lan Yu arrived. She carried her suitcase alone, first checking in at the conference reception
area in the hotel lobby, then collecting her room key at the front desk.
She didn't leave the room that afternoon, resting there. That evening was a welcome dinner; she had probably drunk some wine, as her face
was slightly flushed. As she stepped out of the banquet hall, I pretended to be deep in thought, head down, and
walked past her.
I wanted her to greet me first, so that subconsciously she would accept that our meeting was accidental.
"Teacher Lin, what are you doing here?" Sure enough, she called out to me, somewhat surprised and delighted.
"Director Lan, what are you doing here?" I turned around, revealing the same surprised expression.
"Don't call me Director Lan, call me Sister Lan," she corrected me. "Don't
call me Teacher Lin, call me Doctor Lin," I corrected her. I had once told her that I was a professional doctor,
an amateur teacher, but she always couldn't get rid of that, calling me by that name.
She paused for a moment, then laughed.
I lied to Lan Yu, saying I had some business at the hospital and was in Hainan on a business trip. She told me she was here for a few days of meetings.
I laughed and said, "The meeting is just an excuse; the real purpose is to organize a trip, right?"
She tacitly agreed, saying, "It's not really a trip. We'll have a half-day meeting tomorrow morning, and the rest of the time is up to us
."
I said, "What a coincidence! I can finish my hospital business tomorrow morning, so let's go swimming at the beach in the afternoon."
She hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly said, "Okay!"
The meeting that evening lasted less than ten minutes before I made an excuse to go upstairs.
With tomorrow's plans settled, I slept soundly that night.
The next day, after lunch, we went to the beach.
Lan Yu said she couldn't swim and would just walk on the sand. I said it was a waste to come all this way to Hainan and not go swimming
; let's just soak in the water.
While she was in the changing room, I bought a bright red inflatable swimming ring. Lan Yu likes red.
Lan Yu has a great figure, and in her red swimsuit, she looked as graceful as a young girl.
She was a little shy when she came out of the changing room, probably because she rarely wears swimsuits. I handed her the swimming ring, and she smiled, saying,
"Thank you."
The longing for the sea that people living in inland areas have is unimaginable to residents of coastal cities.
From childhood, coastal cities leave beautiful and romantic imprints on our minds.
The sea, snow-capped mountains, and grasslands are the environments upon which the fairy tales that supported our childhood world depend.
As adults, being able to truly experience these fairy tale environments allows us to partially feel
the happiness of realizing childhood dreams and the joy of reliving the innocent memories of childhood.
I felt this way, and so did Lanyu. Standing on the shore, watching her sit in the red life ring, floating
on the blue-green sea, I felt as if I were seeing a vibrant flower on a vast grassland, or
a flame burning on a calm sea. In that instant, I was lost.
To achieve my goal for the day, I swam to Lanyu, grabbed the life ring, and pulled her back to shore.
I said, "Let me teach you to swim." She was afraid and reluctant. I told her about the wonder of swimming freely in the sea,
a kind of spiritual flight, and she longed for it. Although she knew experiencing this wonder was an impossible task
, she still agreed to try.
Teaching Lanyu to swim wasn't the goal; the key was to get as much physical contact with her as possible.
The first time, when I firmly supported her waist with both hands in the water, I could clearly feel her slight contractions.
A twitch ran through me. I smiled inwardly; Lan Yu hadn't been with a man in a long time.
In the azure sea, I shamelessly caressed her feet, back, and thighs, even her barely
visible breasts, touching them frequently.
Sometimes, I pretended to accidentally entangle with her, sinking to the bottom of the sea, and she clung to me tightly in terror.
— At this moment, the only thing separating us was a swimsuit.
Lan Yu thrashed in the water; breathing freely between the sky and the sea was her only purpose.
And my intentional or unintentional advances, even if she understood them, left her with no energy to react.
At dinner, she was exhausted and hungry, eating a lot in a disheveled state. When a woman is so uninhibited in front of you
, I understand the meaning behind her intimacy.
After dinner, we said goodnight and went to our rooms to rest. Before parting, I clearly saw
a trace of reluctance in her eyes.
Finally, the first wave of passion was complete.
When I woke up, it was almost noon.
I went to Lan Yu's room and called her to eat. As I closed the door, I reached for her hand, but she firmly pushed me away.
Helpless, I walked towards the elevator, her cold voice echoing behind me: "Dr. Lin, please have some self-respect."
The atmosphere at dinner was awkward, a far cry from yesterday. Neither of the earlier incident was mentioned again, yet it
felt like a fishbone stuck in our throats.
After dinner, Lan Yu went to the restroom, and I went to the hotel's shopping mall to buy some things.
In the afternoon, we went to the beach again. She refused to learn to swim again and sunbathed alone on the sand. After a while,
she left her swimming ring outside and went to the changing room alone.
I walked over to the swimming ring and gently pricked it with a pin. At that moment, I thought of Dongfang Bubai
.
A few minutes later, Lan Yu grabbed the swimming ring and plunged into the sea. I lit a cigarette and quietly watched the red
flame drift away into the ocean. In less than ten minutes, as the swimming ring began to leak air, Lan Yu started
frantically struggling on the surface, on the verge of sinking. I tossed away my cigarette butt, calmly stood up, and
walked towards the sea.
When I brought her back to the shore, she was still trembling, her hands clinging tightly to my body, as if
letting go would mean losing her life.
That night, we slept together.
If I could erase memories, I would rather seal away this part of Lan Yu's life, letting it live forever in a fossil.
However, the things you most want to forget often become recurring memories in the very process of trying to get rid of them.
Like an ugly scar, repeated scraping doesn't fade it but leaves a permanent
mark.
Lan Yu is like a watershed, making it impossible for me to turn back. Although my past actions were also permeated with despicable behavior, perhaps
a little romance and justice remained. But now, after I've forced morality and conscience to their knees,
I can only continue down the path of self-destruction and self-harm.
I was conflicted; for the sake of YY, could the plan bypass Lan Yu, allowing me to both regain my dignity and
preserve my love? Unfortunately, to ensure everything went smoothly, I couldn't do without Lan Yu. Between dignity and love, I
had to choose one, and without a doubt, I chose the former.
For the remaining two days in Hainan, we spent almost all our time in bed. Lan Yu's body, like a
torch I ignited in the darkness, burst forth with brilliant light, illuminating me and allowing herself to burn intensely.
A woman's reason, once the path to her heart is cleared, turns into a muddled mess.
Soon after, Lan Yu began to worry about my feelings for her, while I hinted that we would have a happy
family.
A Sunday after returning from Hainan, I called Lan Yu and asked to meet her.
She was delighted and said, "Missed me?"
I said, "Not only did I miss you, but I also need your help."
She asked what it was, and I told her we'd talk about it when we met.
Thus, after a long period of peripheral preparation, I began my offensive on my lover and wife.
On the afternoon of the 4th, I called Da Lin and asked if he had seen Lan Yu. He said he had, and that she left a deep impression.
It turned out that during the Spring Festival, he had gone to his lover's house, hoping to slip him some drugs to strengthen their relationship, but
Lan Yu kicked him out.
I told him to book a private room at the XX Hotel that night, and gave him some other instructions to keep quiet. Being
a seasoned businessman who had weathered many storms, Da Lin remained calm and didn't ask why. He just
chuckled on the phone and said, "As you wish."
After work, I drove straight to Lan Yu's office building. Ten minutes later, I saw her walking over, beaming
. She got in the car, hugged me, and joked, "Dr. Lin, where are you planning to kidnap me?" I
laughed and said, "Worse than kidnapping, you'll see when you get there."
We arrived at the hotel and parked the car. When we entered the private room, I saw Da Lin standing up with a beaming smile. I
introduced Da Lin to Lan Yu as my cousin. Lan Yu smiled politely and shook his hand, seemingly having forgotten she had ever met
him before. But I noticed she still seemed a little unhappy, probably because I hadn't told her beforehand
that there were strangers present.
During the meal, Da Lin was very attentive, busy adding food and soup to Lan Yu's plate. Da Lin was always adept at socializing at the dinner table, and
creating a lively atmosphere was one of his strengths. He told many jokes, recounted his entrepreneurial history with a touch of bitterness, and later
even asked the waiter for an erhu (a two-stringed bowed instrument) and played "Erquan Yingyue" (Moon Reflected in the Second Spring).
During the meal, I brought up Da Lin's project with Lan Yu. Facing Da Lin's eager and expectant gaze, Lan Yu
changed the subject without responding. She chatted and laughed calmly, even drinking two glasses of red wine, maintaining a composed
expression throughout.
After the meal, Da Lin invited us to go singing. Lan Yu declined, saying she felt a little dizzy and wanted to go home to rest early. Da Lin
waved goodbye to us and drove away.
After Dalin left, Lanyu said, "I've seen your cousin; he came to our house." I said, "I know, but
you chased him out."
We strolled hand in hand along the tree-lined path by the river, and Lanyu said again, "You asked me for help because of your
cousin's construction project?"
I said, "Yes, I ran into Dalin the day before yesterday, and we casually mentioned that I was working as a music teacher at your house. He said he had
something he needed to trouble you with and asked if I could invite him to dinner at Y Hall. Of course, I couldn't invite him to Y Hall, but I'm concerned about saving face
, so I told him that Y Hall is busy and difficult to book, but inviting his wife to dinner is no problem."
Lanyu leaned against me, saying as we walked, "Your business is my business, and I'll definitely help. But you
know our situation, he probably won't listen to me, so I can only try my best."
I said let's try first, and if it doesn't work, we'll think of another way. Lanyu said that's all we can do.
After walking for a while, she suddenly laughed and said, "When I heard you say that Dalin is your cousin, I even suspected
that your coming to my house as a music teacher and getting together with me was all a conspiracy to get this project. Don't you think my
thoughts are particularly terrifying?" After saying that, she found her own thoughts unbelievable, leaned her head against my
chest, and chuckled.
I was startled and quickly moved her head to my shoulder, afraid she would hear my heart pounding
. I took a deep breath, suppressing my emotions, and then laughed, saying, "You wouldn't even need
a disguise to be a terrorist."
Things were going according to plan, and I patiently awaited news from Lan Yu.
I had no doubt that Lan Yu would do everything in her power, but I didn't have much hope that she could get her lover to compromise. Haste
makes waste; it was a complex process that needed time to process. Right now, all I had to do was let her lover know
what his wife wanted—Lan Yu wanted Da Lin to do this project. I was certain this goal could be achieved.
During this time, my mother-in-law called, complaining that I hadn't been home for a long time and that my wife's baby was breech,
urging me to come home more often. I brushed her off on the phone, saying that the hospital was expanding and had transferred a group of people to other places.
The hospital was short-staffed and overwhelmed with work, keeping me as busy as a prime minister, and that I would come home whenever I had free time. Actually, the hospital
leaders had criticized me several times, mostly about the numerous patient complaints and frequent absences. I verbally
agreed, saying it wouldn't happen again, but I didn't really take it to heart.
On Thursday, I received a multimedia message from YY, a photo of us kissing in the square. A little while later, I received
another: "Uncle, YY misses you."
I held back and didn't reply. I hadn't seen YY in a long time.
Ever since my affair with Lan Yu, the thought of YY felt like a mountain pressing down on my heart,
like being caught in a steel claw. That pain often left me waking from nightmares with lingering fear.
For this reason, I made an excuse to cancel my weekend piano lessons with Lan Yu. I started avoiding YY,
not seeing her, not answering her calls, not replying to her texts. I wanted to completely disappear from her life; I longed for our past to be nothing more than a tear in her heart
. Because our love was destined to be a tragedy.
She will forget me, I believe. Forgetting is painful, but time can fade everything. Perhaps
many years later, the heavy pain will melt away like water, becoming a beautiful spring in my memory. I hope this
time will only last a moment, these many years will only last a day. After work, I went to a small noodle shop and ordered
a bottle of Tsingtao beer and a bowl of green pepper noodles. After eating, I went to the night market near the hospital and bought a few pirated
books and some fruit.
Around 8:30, to watch the 9 o'clock football game, I started walking towards my rented room.
That night, I vaguely felt something was wrong, but I didn't know why.
Crossing the square, as I turned into a dimly lit alley, I suddenly heard a soft
sobbing behind me. My heart tightened, I stopped, and turned around: YY was standing under the streetlight at the alley entrance, tears streaming
down her face.
It turned out she had followed me all night. I went over and hugged her tightly.
Hugging her, in just a moment, I regretted it.
I dragged her from the alley to the street. I hailed a taxi on the roadside, shoved her inside, and told the driver
I'd take her to school. She silently wept, offering no resistance.
As the taxi drove away, I stood by the roadside, chain-smoking, my mind racing. Before I'd
finished my cigarette, the taxi turned back. YY jumped out, rushed to me, and began hitting me repeatedly,
crying and shouting, "Why? Why?"
It was during walks, and the street was crowded. Many people gathered around, some laughing, some gossiping
, some offering words of comfort. I hardened my heart, saying nothing, letting her vent her anger. Later, exhausted from hitting herself, she sat by
the roadside, covering her head and sobbing uncontrollably. I seized the opportunity to quickly walk away, disappearing from her sight, then quietly returned,
watching her from a distance.
She cried for a long time, until several women nearby tried to comfort her. She stood up, looked around, and,
not finding me, walked towards the rented room. Reaching the alley entrance, perhaps because it was too dark, she
hesitated for a moment, then turned and walked towards the school. The school was far from the hospital; it took her about
an hour and a half to walk there.
I followed her all the way, watching her enter the dormitory.
I waited downstairs for another hour, but nothing happened, so I took a taxi home.
A few days later, Lan Yu called me, saying things were looking promising and asked to meet that evening to discuss it. Her
voice on the phone sounded strange, with an indescribable sadness mixed with a hint of relief. Of course, the resentment was
much stronger.
After work, I picked her up. We didn't talk about the project the whole way.
During dinner, Lan Yu kept asking me if I loved her, and I kept saying yes. She then asked if I would marry her.
I stood up, took her hand, and said, "Let's go register now." She laughed happily, even though I knew
it was a joke. Sometimes, a woman's stubborn desire for marriage seems unbelievable to me; it has nothing to do with age,
it seems they are all like this.
After dinner, we brewed a pot of tea and sat down to rest in the private room.
After a while, Lan Yu finally said, "He agreed to the project, on the condition that I divorce him."
Her eyes welled up with tears as she finished speaking.
I was secretly delighted. It was part of my plan; I had anticipated that my lover wouldn't agree so easily. Divorce was originally
one of the exchange conditions I had prepared for Lan Yu to propose to him, but unexpectedly, my lover had brought it up himself.
"Maybe it's because my wife is about to give birth?" I thought. If the lover could divorce before the child's birth,
it would have a special meaning for both his wife and child.
In any case, his actions gave me a significant advantage in my next move.
I slammed my fist on the table and cursed him for being despicable. In my rage, I even smashed a teacup.
My hatred for him wasn't just for show. At that moment, all my long-held hatred for him
was released through his injustice and humiliation of Lan Yu. As I cursed, I thought about how my wife and I would eventually fall apart.
Although I had expected it, my eyes still reddened.
Lan Yu had been crying the whole time. At first, she occasionally chimed in, cursing her husband.
But seeing me cry, she was affected and sobbed uncontrollably, unable to utter a word, her heart filled with intense hatred for her lover. After
calming down slightly, Lan Yu told me that after the divorce, the house and all the property would belong to her, and her lover would leave with nothing. I said
I couldn't let him off so easily; he needed to come up with another sum of money.
Lan Yu said her lover was usually quite honest, only accepting inexpensive gifts. He seemed successful on the outside, but actually didn't have
much money; she managed all his finances.
I told her the amount Da Lin had promised her lover. Lan Yu was surprised, hesitated for only a few seconds, and then agreed
. She looked at me firmly and nodded.
That night, I couldn't sleep. Although I was certain her lover
would accept the money under pressure from Lan Yu demanding a breakup fee, I was still worried about unexpected changes that might ruin everything. Then all my efforts
would be wasted, my fantasies, my love would be sacrificed in vain.
It wasn't until the afternoon of the third day that I received Lan Yu's call.
"He agreed," Lan Yu said, her voice suppressed but unable to contain her joy. On the phone, Lan Yu asked me to arrange for
Da Lin to bring his things to my house at 8 pm the next night, where her lover would be waiting for him. She specifically instructed that Da Lin
go alone.
I secretly admired my lover's caution. However, even his reaction was within my expectations
. I never intended to step into this mess myself; I wanted to capsize his ship without getting myself involved.
Protecting myself as much as possible has always been my highest principle.
After work, I went to Gome to buy tools and then waited for Lan Yu downstairs at her office. After getting in the car, I
handed her the Sony mini camcorder, asking her to set it up in a hidden place at home the next day to record everything that happened.
At first, she hesitated, saying it wasn't necessary. I told her, "After the divorce, she and her lover will be like
strangers. If her lover's affair comes to light one day, he might falsely accuse her of accepting bribes, claiming it had nothing to do with her. To
protect yourself, you must prepare for the worst and seize this opportunity to gather solid evidence against him, just in case
. Even if you don't need it in the future, it won't do you any harm."
Lan Yu nodded, praising my thoughtfulness. I lay back in the driver's seat, letting out a long sigh of relief.
When I got home that evening, I called Dalin to tell him it was all done and to prepare himself, to bring his things, and
to go to his lover's house alone at 8 pm the next night. Dalin was overjoyed and said on the phone that he wanted to thank me properly.
I chuckled twice.
The next evening, I was restless, anxiously waiting for Lanyu's news.
At 9 pm, Lanyu called to say everything was settled. I was ecstatic. That night, I
danced and sang alone in my rented room, got completely drunk, didn't even ask for leave from the hospital, and slept until noon the next day. That
evening, I had dinner with Lanyu. She said her lover had given her the money, and then took out a video camera from her bag, showing
me the recording, and even said she'd let me keep both the money and the video. I praised her for handling it well, saying that it
was her property, and even after we got married, it would be her premarital property, and I had no right to touch it.
Lanyu didn't say anything more, but just looked at me with admiration for a long time.
After dinner, she went to the restroom, and I took her bag and went downstairs to get the car. I rushed to my car and drove it out of the parking
lot. On the roadside, I copied the footage from the camera into my laptop. During this time, she called, saying she couldn't find
her car. While frantically working, I told her to wait for me at the hotel entrance, lying that the parking lot staff
wanted me to move the car, so I drove out first, turned around on the street, and came to pick her up.
Although time was extremely tight, I handled everything methodically.
A few minutes later, I met her at the hotel entrance without arousing any suspicion. Actually, it didn't
matter anymore; my remaining conscience told me that the later she found out the truth, the better.
Twenty days later, Dalin called me, saying he had won the bid for the project. He was incredibly grateful on the phone, saying
he would treat me to dinner that evening and had a small gift for me.
I understood what the gift meant.
I've always believed that money is dirty, and anything that can be repaid with dirty things
can't be good. Deep in my soul, I always felt that my revenge was noble,
a ruthless pursuit of dignity, unblemished by baseness or corrupted by shamelessness. Only
the filth of money could tarnish it; if mixed with money, it would be defiled—the pursuit of the spirit
, once invaded by the temptations of reality, would immediately deteriorate, rot, and ultimately shatter—love is the same
.
Therefore, even the benefits gained incidentally during revenge, as long as they involved material interests, would
feel like an insult to my noble soul. To act basely while believing oneself to have a noble soul—this is a strange ,
somewhat chaotic way of thinking, perhaps one that will never resonate, or perhaps I haven't even expressed it clearly.
I refused to have dinner with Dalin, telling him that this had nothing to do with me; I had only introduced them, nothing
more. I also warned him not to bother me again. Dalin was surprised, but quickly composed himself, apologizing on the phone
, saying it was all his fault, and that he would drink three cups of wine as punishment next time.
I found it amusing, yet I also admired his composure and his servile demeanor in front of those who considered themselves useful. Even more so,
I admired his hypocritical courage to admit his mistakes when he was unaware of them. I had no patience for his continued rambling,
so I slammed the phone down, forever blasting his voice and his despicable behavior away.
A despicable person dislikes another despicable person, just as a lazy general dislikes a lazy soldier. On
this platform of despicable behavior, I am undoubtedly the general.
Upon learning that the Daling project had won the bid, I made four copies of the video recording. I sent one to the Provincial Procuratorate and
one to the Provincial Commission for Discipline Inspection.
I knew that even with solid evidence, bringing down a deputy director-level official was no easy task. Therefore,
I sent the remaining two copies to the director of the XX Department and the second-ranking deputy director, respectively.
My lover was the first deputy. Usually, the relationship between the head of an official position and the first deputy is not good, because the former is
an obstacle to the latter, and the latter is a huge threat to the former; the relationship between the first and second deputy is also not good,
for the same reason.
Theoretically, their relationship with the lover was that of political enemies—or, omitting the word "political," simply enemies. Having found the
enemy's Achilles' heel, I believed their political acumen wouldn't allow them to be lenient—unless they had also
done the same thing in the project. To rule out this possibility, I sent a copy to the second deputy, since he wasn't
in charge of this area.
A month later, I heard the news that my lover had been placed under investigation. A week later, Lan Yu also went to jail
. She was foolish, always keeping her money at home.
Three days later, I heard the news of Lan Yu's fall.
That night, I found YY, distraught and alone in her messy home. She opened
the door for me and then clung to me tightly, as if she had found a savior.
She didn't know about Lan Yu's death yet.
That night, YY slept soundly. She nestled in my arms, her breath salty, smelling like a
cat that had just eaten fish.
It seemed she hadn't slept well for many days. In her sleep, she smiled contentedly,
dreaming of me, Lan Yu, or her father? Or perhaps none of those; maybe she was back on the beautiful Narat Grassland
, riding a horse alone, carefree, traversing between the blue sky and white clouds?
I had no way of knowing what she dreamed of, only that it must have been something beautiful. I watched
her quietly. Sometimes, I even wished she would linger in her dreams, never waking up, never having to face this cruel world
, because this was the real nightmare.
My gaze began to glaze over, and gradually, I couldn't bear to blink. I greedily savored her last moments of
happiness, wanting to grasp them, to throw them into my heart, and lock them away firmly. Perhaps, in the years to come, it would never
happen again; perhaps even if it did, I would never see it again.
In the latter half of the night, I drifted off to sleep. Around three o'clock, I suddenly woke up with a start, realizing that
tears were streaming down my face, onto YY's hair. She frowned, turned over, and
faced away from me. A few seconds later, she trembled, then immediately turned back, burying her head deeply in my chest
, her hands clinging to me even tighter.
Why could YY, like an angel, only sleep peacefully in the arms of a devil?
Why does the heavens always seem to mock life so nonchalantly? Is it to show that they enjoy cruelty?
My heart began to bleed, as if YY's virgin blood, spilled in the yurt, was dripping onto my heart, its crimson
rose petals dancing to a sorrowful rhythm within me. It danced, slowly blooming,
faster and faster, more vibrant… its dance, so poignant, was heartbreaking.
In an instant, I could no longer withstand the onslaught of depression and grief; they ruthlessly shattered my
dignity, bursting forth like a tidal wave. I pushed YY away, rushed to the toilet, and sobbed uncontrollably.
The next morning, before YY woke up, I left.
After eating breakfast at a street stall, I went straight to the hospital.
All morning, the hospital staff were talking about Lan Yu's suicide. Yesterday afternoon, after jumping from a building, she
was rushed to our hospital for emergency treatment, and her background and the reasons for her suicide had aroused everyone's curiosity.
Lan Yu's death had excited people like they were on steroids; some sympathized, some grieved, but many more were
gloating.
I stood quietly to the side, listening to their gossip.
Some said that Lan Yu was still alive when she was brought to the hospital yesterday afternoon, but stopped
breathing after resuscitation efforts failed.
Others said, "Lan Yu was seriously injured when she was brought to the hospital, but if she had received timely treatment, she might have been able
to survive."
Unfortunately, it was her fate; at the time, the blood bank was short of her blood type… Lan Yu had AB blood type,
traditionally considered a universal recipient. The clinician, without matching blood type, transfused her with a different type
(O).
Five minutes later, a hemolytic reaction occurred; her skin turned blue, she trembled, her heart rate increased, and her blood pressure dropped
. The clinician immediately stopped the transfusion. Half an hour later, Lan Yu's heart stopped beating, and she died. Even if
the rumors were true, no one dared to call it medical malpractice, including myself. In an emergency, the clinician's
decision to transfuse a different type of blood was entirely correct. However,
the timing, manner, and even absence of hemolytic reactions between incompatible blood types are like waiting for an earthquake—it's all up to fate.
I vaguely remember that the probability of a transfusion reaction between relatives receiving incompatible blood seems much lower than with two drops of unfamiliar
blood. This made me think of YY, who is also type O. If she had been there, could she
have saved Lan Yu? I shook my head, dismissing the possibility, because even if she were there, no doctor would
be willing to risk losing their job to draw blood from YY to save Lan Yu's life, which was already declining and unfamiliar
. Illegal blood collection is against regulations. People's thinking always prioritizes self-interest over gain or loss. Unless
I were that doctor, this possibility wouldn't exist.
But at that time, I was busy with outpatient work and had no idea that Lan Yu was lying in the emergency room downstairs, waiting to
lose her life.
Life is often unpredictable; there are no "unless"s or "ifs." Some things, once missed, are lost forever
.
However, the rumors about Lan Yu didn't linger in my grief for long, and I quickly pulled myself together.
I called my wife and told her I was coming home.
On Wednesday, I cancelled my rental agreement, packed my things, and moved back home.
The apartment was on the third floor. As I walked down to the garden, I habitually looked up and inadvertently spotted my wife...
Standing on the balcony, secretly wiping away tears, she noticed my gaze sweep over her. She pretended to brush her hair back
, tucking the strands that had been pressing against her forehead.
A few forced smiles tugged at the corners of her mouth.
I nodded to her as a greeting. A cold laugh ran through me. Undoubtedly, she
already knew about her lover's arrest and was heartbroken over their shattered dream, her sorrow overflowing, tears streaming down her face.
Unfortunately, I saw her, hence her desperate attempt to hide it.
Back home, we exchanged a perfunctory greeting, like the left hand greeting the right.
I went to the study to put down my luggage, and the housekeeper came in to help me unpack. My wife was sitting in the living room playing the piano, a
cheerful "Tian Mi Mi" (Sweet Honey), humming along as she played. The housekeeper said she played the piano every day,
saying it was for prenatal education.
I taught my wife to play the piano; she wasn't diligent enough, and had no musical talent whatsoever, only able to play one or two weak
pop songs. However, she always paid attention to her appearance, and even during her pregnancy, she maintained an elegant demeanor.
When we were still deeply in love, I used to tease her for prioritizing appearance over substance
, saying her first-rate elegance was like a phoenix playing the piano while emitting the pitiful cry of a hen in distress. Back then, she would laugh, take off her high heels,
walk up to me, and dramatically shake the heels in front of me for a long time, then gently tap my buttocks with the insteps .
I would snatch the shoes from her, and she would lie on the floor, stubbornly insisting that I practice the hen's pitiful cry before she would get up.
Time has passed, and all that beauty has weathered away, turning into a piece of ebony, dull and depressing.
In the middle of the night, I woke up and went into my wife's bedroom.
In her sleep, her face radiated the unique satisfaction of a pregnant woman.
Her satisfaction inexplicably irritated me. I turned on all the lights, illuminating the bedroom brightly. She woke up,
looked at me in alarm, and asked what was wrong. I said it was nothing, and yanked back the covers, revealing her hourglass-shaped
body… I roughly entered her, and her tears and screams erupted almost simultaneously.
When I woke up in the morning, my wife didn't seem to be home. I turned over, wanting to change my position and continue sleeping, but found
a note on the bedside table. It was written in pencil: “Da Tang, for the sake of the baby, please don't touch me anymore, okay
? I'm due in two months.”
I coldly tore the note into pieces, stuffed them into my mouth, chewed a few times,
and swallowed them along with the bitter taste of the paper.
As her due date approached, my wife's emotions began to fluctuate.
The results of her recent prenatal checkups made her even more restless. Her baby was breech, and her blood pressure and blood sugar were far above
the normal range.
The breech presentation had been a problem for a long time, and some exercise hadn't helped. The high blood pressure and blood sugar
were recent developments. My wife's physical condition meant that a cesarean section was the only option. It seemed that this
life, born of an abnormal origin, was destined to carry on with its abnormal characteristics to the very end.
Sometimes, my wife would sit quietly at the piano for an entire morning, motionless; sometimes, she would
play a tune, but without humming or joy; sometimes, she would gaze
at me for a long time with a sorrowful look, as pitiful as a pregnant pet abandoned in a rubble bin. For a moment, I almost felt
pity, but only for a moment, and I regained my composure.
I secretly rejoiced, even silently praying to heaven that this life would never see the light of day.
One day, after dinner, I took my wife for a walk in the park. She held my hand, walking across the lawn,
through the stream, and onto the empty sculpture platform.
But after a while, she asked me to listen to the baby's pulse.
A thought flashed through my mind. I lowered my head, pressed my ear to her belly, listened for a moment, then looked up,
feigning surprise, and listened carefully again, stroking her belly with both hands. After a long while,
she sensed something was wrong and asked me anxiously what was wrong. I stood up, took two steps to the side, clapped my hands,
and coldly said, "The baby seems to be dead."
My wife froze. The happy expression on her face hadn't even faded before my voice filled her with
terror. Gradually, her legs began to tremble, and she slowly squatted down, collapsing to the ground.
I watched her indifferently, witnessing her fall from the peak of happiness to the abyss of fear, and I felt
a thrill of flight.
When I took my wife to the hospital, she was still unsteady on her feet.
When the doctor said the fetus was normal, she couldn't believe it.
She clung to me frantically, like a drowning person grasping at a seaweed. She looked at
me helplessly, hoping I would confirm the baby was alright.
I insisted to the doctor that at that moment, with my professional knowledge, I couldn't find any signs of life, and I confirmed
the baby was dead. The doctor on duty was bewildered and asked my wife to be hospitalized for observation.
A week later, my wife returned home from the hospital, looking much more haggard. From then on, she began to worry that the child would
suddenly die, and even in her sleep, she would often be startled awake.
I smiled; it was simple, just a psychological suggestion technique.
Seeing YY crying in my arms, my heart suddenly ached, and my wife's sister's sorrowful expression gradually appeared before my eyes.
Because of my wife's infidelity, I had already hurt too many people; I couldn't continue down this path. I made
a decision in my heart. Lifting YY's head, I said to her very seriously, "Don't be sad, wait for me, I
will definitely be with you, for a lifetime!"
Suddenly, I missed you; it had been so long since I'd been home. Home, in my heart, had become something I didn't know.
While I was lost in thought, my mother-in-law called, saying that my wife was having contractions and it seemed like she was about to give birth.
I took a day off, went home, and took my wife to the hospital. More than ten hours passed, and the nurse brought out a
chubby little girl—my wife's baby. Looking at that face that looked so much like my wife's, and even a little bit like her…
I was overwhelmed with emotion and couldn't say a word.
Because of the natural birth, my wife was discharged from the hospital quickly. It seems the affair's investigation has had a significant impact on my wife;
for a long time, she's been keeping a low profile, barely speaking. I've tried to speak to her several times, but I don't know
where to begin.
After a few awkward days, my wife asked me, "What name do you think we should call her?"
I thought of YY and realized it was time for everything to end. No matter who it is, if they do something wrong, they need
to take responsibility. Dragging it out might hurt even more people.
I hesitated for a moment, then seriously said to my wife, "Let's have our daughter take your surname, and we should break up..."
My wife's face turned deathly pale, and tears streamed down her face. "You know everything..."
"Yes, I knew all along."
"Can you give me a chance... I was with him only because I wanted to develop my career
... Only he could help me with that..."
"I'm sorry, I can't face someone who isn't my child calling me 'Dad'..." After
a pause, "More importantly, I think I've fallen deeply in love with another innocent girl."
...
I never imagined that my wife and I would break up so peacefully. I moved out and went straight to YY's
place. I owe her so much in this life. Although I didn't want to tell her everything, afraid she would be heartbroken and unable to accept it,
I will cherish and love her for the rest of my life, as a way of giving her closure.
Another ending, for your reference: After returning home this time, I clearly felt my wife's dependence on me. A woman's
sense of security always needs the support of a man. It seems that the disappearance of her lover made my wife shift her support back
to me. Physical discomfort and mental fear filled her with anxiety and worry, and my presence seemed
to become the vessel for her anxieties.
In the weeks leading up to her delivery, she couldn't sleep at night. Although she never said it, I could sense
that she was afraid I wouldn't be by her side, afraid I wouldn't come home, even afraid I would answer unfamiliar phone calls.
Actually, before my wife became pregnant, like most cuckolded men, I fantasized that her affair might secretly return
, and I would pretend not to know, treating her as before for the rest of my life, burying this cuckoldry deep
in my heart until it rotted away.
This mentality is not noble, but a form of self-protection.
I would rather deceive myself and silently endure the pain than expose the scar to others' attention, as that would cause my
self-esteem to collapse, adding shame to the pain. Like a little girl who falls flat on her face in the street,
she might act nonchalant when no one knows, but wail in her mother's arms.
Unexpectedly, her pregnancy completely shattered my defenses. It was like
building a monument in the process of humiliating me, and it would grow ever more magnificent with time.
Once, I tested my wife, saying that things might be better without this child. She was silent for a
moment, then asked if I thought her health was poor and worried the child might have defects. I said
no, if I had a choice, I would rather not have the child. She cried, saying that if she could choose, she would rather
not have herself, but have the child.
I turned my head away, saying nothing more, my heart filled with rage.
After a while, I made an excuse about having to go to the hospital and wouldn't be home that night. Looking back at her as I left, I
found her sitting blankly on a small wooden stool, her face frozen in despair, like a mummy.
After leaving, I quickly walked out of the community garden and strolled along the tree-lined path between the community and the road. Looking back
, countless thoughts flood my mind.
I am the only son in three generations, and I'm not young anymore. Every time I went home, my parents, though they didn't explicitly say they wanted a grandchild,
would always look at me with expectant eyes. My mother, in particular, would always chatter on about the loneliness of being an old woman living alone
and the happiness of the neighbor's children, her sadness and envy overflowing. The unspoken message was that of the three unfilial acts, the
greatest is having no offspring, and we should hurry up and have children
. This put a lot of pressure on my wife for a long time whenever we saw her.
Strangely enough, since our marriage, no matter how my parents subtly hinted or how much I hinted, my wife's attitude
was very firm; she simply didn't want children, until I went on a long business trip. That was her first pregnancy.
Thinking of this, I sighed deeply. No matter what, I sincerely admire the charm of my lover.
Unconsciously, I found myself on the street and hailed a taxi. The driver asked where I was going, and I casually said the school
. Perhaps only there was the place I truly longed for.
When I found YY, she was alone on the playground. I suppressed the urge to approach her and stood quietly
by the iron gate, silently watching her. An hour later, darkness gradually fell, the night sweeping away the last rays of light and slowly enveloping
her lonely figure. I couldn't tell if she was happy or sad, but her solitary, desolate air made me
feel a little melancholy.
Just as I was about to quietly leave, YY walked towards me. She stood before me, coldly
saying, "Uncle, you've come." Her pale face seemed to have a hole torn in the darkness, as bleak as
a broken white glazed vase.
In an instant, I realized she knew everything.
We walked side by side along the school playground track. It was a strange night; the stars and moon
were nowhere to be seen, not a single ray of light in the sky, and the playground was pitch black. YY's paleness was
the only evidence that I knew she was there beside me. We walked in silence, aimlessly circling the track, repeatedly
plunging ourselves into the darkness, letting it devour us, endlessly…
Around ten o'clock, YY came to the horizontal bar. With great effort, she hung upside down,
remaining suspended there silently, as if even her breathing had stopped.
I lit a cigarette and sat quietly on the sand beside the bar. I watched her for a long time, vaguely believing
she would never fall. But she fell, like a dried-up corpse hanging upside down from a rafter, its
ropes severed.
Around 12:30, we checked into a hotel room—the same room as before.
It seemed as if everything was preordained.
That night, YY was frantic, as if she wanted to drain me of my last drop of life. She didn't speak, didn't shed tears, only
greedily demanded more. Her white body galloped across my body like a zebra on the run. Sometimes, I tried to force
her down, but she would mercilessly pinch and twist, desperately flipping me over.
All night, she rode on my waist, never letting me out. As dawn approached, she began to whip my...
Slaps, one after another, each harder than the last, the rhythm of her blows growing
faster and more frantic… Finally, she collapsed, powerless, yet held her head high, refusing to rest on my chest.
Like her, caught in the alternating waves of pain and pleasure, I was lost, vaguely longing to faint on that
surging wave, never to wake again.
Before parting, she said she would take something from me, and then spend her life tormenting it, letting me taste
the torment of a loved one. She told me not to look for her anymore, because I would never find her again.
I said nothing lasts forever.
YY said nothing more, turned, went downstairs, and disappeared into the vast crowd.
A week later, she dropped out of school. From then on, I never saw her again.
My wife gave birth at the maternal and child health center of our hospital, checking in two days early. I
took maternity leave from the hospital, but never went to the maternal and child health center; I couldn't face her and the unborn child.
To inflict maximum damage on my wife at the last minute, on the eve of her delivery, I
sent her explicit photos of myself and my sister-in-law to her phone. Then, I sent her a text message telling her the divorce papers were in
the middle drawer of her desk, and that I had already signed them. Although I knew
I couldn't divorce her while she was breastfeeding, at that moment, I wanted her to know my determination to end things.
After doing all this, I turned off my phone and checked into a hotel.
I stayed in the hotel for three whole days, thinking about everything, yet thinking about nothing. My thoughts
wandered between clarity and chaos, unable to find a fixed point. I smoked one cigarette after another, as if immersing myself
in smoke was the only way to temporarily escape the chaos of reality. When the housekeeper came in to clean the room, she
was almost driven away by the strong smell of smoke.
On the fourth day, I wanted to go to the office, but as soon as I reached the hospital entrance, I saw my sister-in-law blocking the doorway with a livid face
. It seemed she knew about the explicit photos. Although I felt guilty towards my sister-in-law, things had come to this, and I
didn't intend to run away. So, I coldly walked towards her.
Seeing me, my sister-in-law wasn't angry, but burst into tears, saying, "Brother-in-law, where have you been
? My sister is critically ill!"
I was startled and asked what happened. She shook her head, crying, unable to say anything. I asked about the child
. She cried even harder, nodding and shaking her head intermittently, making it impossible for me to understand what she meant.
My sister-in-law dragged me to the intensive care unit. As soon as I entered, I saw my wife lying on the bed, her head covered
in IV drips, her body riddled with tubes. She seemed conscious, but couldn't speak (there was a tube in her esophagus
). Seeing me come in, she forced a smile, opened her palm, revealing her phone, which she was clutching,
gesturing for me to take it.
I took the phone, sat blankly on the bed, and didn't know what to say. After a while, the attending physician, fearing it would disturb
the patient's rest, asked us to leave. I walked out of the ward, checked my phone's MMS, and found it empty; the explicit photos
had been deleted. Turning back, my gaze pierced through the glass of the door, and I saw my wife with her eyes closed,
seemingly unconscious.
After my sister-in-law calmed down a bit, I asked her what had happened.
She didn't answer, saying, "Let's go see the baby first."
We left the inpatient building, crossed the parking lot, and exited the hospital. We walked through a narrow path and entered
the maternal and child health hospital. The nursery was on the third floor. Walking to the right, against the wall, I saw a pink
baby lying quietly in bed, sleeping soundly.
"It's a boy," my sister-in-law said. Facing this tiny yet vibrant life, her sorrow was slowly
fading, and the light of expectation, surrounded by warmth, was gradually brightening. After a while, she softly said again, "The baby
is very healthy, exactly like you looked in the photos when you were little." I had a vague feeling that something terrible was about to happen.
Half an hour later, after leaving the maternal and child health hospital, my sister-in-law said she wanted to sit down. We
found a bench next to the bus stop and sat down side by side.
After sitting for a while, my sister-in-law suddenly looked up and said softly, "Brother-in-law, my sister has always loved you very much. "
I remained silent.
"You once told me that you suspected this child wasn't yours. I told my sister about your doubts, and
she told me not to tell you the truth." At this point, my sister-in-law choked up a little. "She was afraid you would worry, so she preferred
to suffer herself."
"What truth?" I looked up sharply, realizing that a terrible truth was slowly approaching me.
My sister-in-law touched her hair and smiled sadly, saying, "Both of us sisters have severe congenital heart
disease. We won't live much longer, and we can't have children." "..."
I almost fainted. In that instant, I understood why my wife insisted on using condoms and not having children.
Just then, a bus arrived at the stop, and the crowd surged towards us. My sister-in-law stood up to make way for us.
After another group of passengers crowded onto the bus and drove away, she sat down again and continued, "Do you remember
when my sister was pregnant for the first time?"
"Yes, I remember. I was away on a business trip. She called and said she was sick. Later, I called you and found out
she was pregnant."
The younger sister shook her head painfully and said, "I accidentally let it slip. I thought you knew about her illness
. I called her that night and found out she had been hiding it from you."
"I never imagined that even though my sister was so careful with contraception, she still got pregnant," the younger sister said with a bitter smile.
"That night, we discussed it and decided we absolutely couldn't keep the baby."
She paused, then continued, "The next morning, after my sister called you, we went
to Lincheng. We had lunch at my uncle's house, and in the afternoon, my uncle had my cousin drive us to the hospital." After a
while, she asked, "Brother-in-law, do you know why my sister went to the hospital in Lincheng for an abortion?"
I nodded slowly and said gravely, "She wanted to keep her illness a secret from me."
My sister-in-law nodded, sighed, and said, "The conditions at the hospital in Lincheng are much worse than yours
. That's why my sister went there for the abortion. But this surgery left her with a fatal problem.
Unfortunately, none of us knew at the time. My sister just felt very weak, so she stayed at my uncle's for three days..."
"Oh my god , it was the fourth night before my cousin finally took my sister home."
Hearing this, I suddenly remembered what the nanny had said. The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt, the more
frightened I became, the more I dared not think about it… My sister-in-law's voice interrupted my thoughts, pulling me out of my panic.
"A week before you came home, something else happened that made my sister want a child. It might
even cost her her life."
My sister-in-law, fighting back tears, continued, "That day, my sister was promoted from deputy minister to minister.
Her colleagues celebrated, giving her a lot of alcohol. She was very happy and got very drunk. But, in the middle of the night that day,
I received a call from her. She said she felt very unwell, like she was going to die. Before she could finish speaking, the call was cut off
. I rushed to your house and found her lying in the middle of the living room, her heartbeat and breathing very weak. I gave her
some of her usual medication, but it didn't work. That night, I called 120 and took her to the hospital.
The next morning, I saw that her condition had improved somewhat, and I thought it was just from drinking a little alcohol." It was a minor problem. Plus
, I had something to do at the police station, so I left. That evening, I went to the hospital again, but she was gone. When I found
her at home, she was sitting on the bedroom floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I asked her what was wrong, but she wouldn't say anything, just kept crying.
Later I learned that the doctor told her that because of the damage to her heart caused by the previous abortion, she had at
most five years to live, and during that time, she couldn't be subjected to any severe stress. That night, my sister and I cried all night, until
around four in the morning, when she suddenly said, "No matter what, I must have a child for you."
My sister-in-law was already in tears as she said this. She turned to look at me and said, "Brother-in-law, you know how much
my sister feels for you now. We've all wronged her."
I turned my head away, too ashamed to face her.
My sister-in-law continued, "Not long after you came back, my sister secretly went to another city for a check-up and was diagnosed with her
condition. From then on, she started planning to get pregnant. If I remember correctly, her second pregnancy
was less than four months after her first abortion. Because she knew time was running out, she had to keep your bloodline
."
I can't remember what else my sister-in-law said that day. My mind felt like it had been emptied into a vacuum in an instant
; my memory was permanently severed there.
My wife stayed in the hospital for three more days before passing away.
Her condition was very serious. Until she took her last breath, she couldn't say
a word to me, nor did she leave any last words. Only in her final moments did she struggle to take off our wedding
rings, gesturing with her eyes for me to put them back on her finger. I gently slipped the ring onto her ring finger, and she smiled slightly
before closing her eyes forever.
I vaguely felt that the ring was somewhat strange; it seemed not to be the original one, but just one of the same
design.
I think: perhaps my wife accidentally lost her original wedding ring and was too embarrassed to tell me, so she
secretly bought an identical one. This ring, which I never personally put on her finger, doesn't truly
symbolize our marriage. That's why, on her deathbed, she asked me to put it on her finger, fulfilling her last wish in this world
.
Thinking of this, I felt a pang of sadness, took a deep breath, and forced back my tears.
At my wife's memorial service, I managed to obtain a strand of her cousin's hair. After testing, it was determined that it
belonged to the same person as the hair of her alleged lover.
It was this strand of hair, lying on the back seat, perhaps accidentally
tangled with my wife's hair during a brush, remaining in the crevice of the car seat, ultimately leading to this tragedy.
My subjective suspicion of my wife's infidelity led me to firmly believe that the nanny had seen her lover, failing to
consider the possibility that her cousin had simply been kindly taking her home. My arbitrary doubts about my wife's innocence
blinded me to an obvious fact: my uncle's family ran a FAW-Volkswagen 4S dealership, so my cousin naturally owned an
Audi.
And I, in my self-righteousness, stubbornly targeted YY, who had also visited the Lincheng Hospital that day, for revenge, causing
him to be imprisoned, Lan Yu to commit suicide, and YY to wander the world.
It was also I who pushed my sister-in-law into misfortune and dragged my wife to her death.
It was also I who turned Xiao Song into a eunuch and Xiao Tan into a murderer. I was afraid to admit that I had harmed
the innocent and kind, yet I had destroyed every innocent and sacrificed every kind person. The harsh reality ruthlessly
crushed my last fig leaf to ashes, revealing a soul as filthy as my genitals.
My burning desire for revenge, fueled by a fabricated truth, destroyed three families and seven lives. In
reality, my wife, my sister-in-law, Y-ting, Lan Yu, YY, Xiao Tan, and even Xiao Song—they were all
good people.
Ten days later, with one last question in mind, I returned to the nanny's house.
When she saw me, she seemed bewildered, her enthusiasm tinged with guilt. I immediately noticed
the ring she hadn't yet removed in her haste. Finally, the mystery was solved, and I understood why my wife had lied to me after firing her.
I mentally reconstructed the truth: when my wife returned home, she discovered the ring was missing, suspected the nanny, but had no
proof, so she found an excuse to fire her. The nanny, fearing I would find out, bought a new one.
When I asked why the nanny left, she couldn't answer directly and used the excuse that the nanny's husband had an accident.
To get the ring back from the nanny, I used violence. Of all the bad things I've done, this was the first
and only time.
I don't like violence.
Twenty days later, I went to visit him in the detention center's interrogation room.
As if recounting someone else's story, I calmly explained the cause and effect of the incident,
detailing what I had done in the process. After listening, he burst into tears, grabbed a water bottle from the table with trembling hands
, and smashed it hard on my head. I sat motionless, letting the blood splatter on my forehead
. Deep down, I longed for him to hit me again, but after just that one blow, he collapsed,
sitting limply on the ground for a long time until he was carried out. Walking out of the detention center, I breathed a long sigh of relief, not because I had been
beaten by my lover—I didn't know why.
Thirty days later, I re-examined the events at home. Reading YY's medical report, seeing her blood type
was O, I suddenly remembered the rumors about Lan Yu's emergency treatment.
A discovery stirred a strange impulse within me. I drove back to the hospital at breakneck speed, finally finding Lan Yu's medical record
, and saw that she indeed had the rumored AB blood type.
Sure enough, YY wasn't her daughter, which overjoyed me. Who YY's father was didn't matter; what mattered
was that it freed me from the psychological shadow cast by the accusation of incest.
Forty days later, I resigned. Every day, I did only one thing: wait at Lan Yu's grave.
If anyone asked me how long I would wait, I think at least five years.
YY once told me not to look for her anymore because I would never find her.
I also once told her that nothing in this world lasts forever.
[The End]

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[I Slept with My Wife's Lover's Wife and Daughter] (Photos and Text) Author: Unknown

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