[Urban] Rogue Junior (Complete) - 1-3

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

1.

From the day I can remember, I lived like a poor little prisoner under the strict control of my mother and father:

"Xiao Li, come here and wash your face," my father would say.

"Xiao Li, stop playing, it's time to go to bed!" my mother would command.

Especially my mother; in her presence, I was practically a robot devoid of any thought or mental activity, everything was done under her manipulation. Like a puppet, I ate and slept on time according to my mother's meticulous arrangements, my schedule could not be off by a minute, my life trajectory was always unchanging and absolutely unalterable.

Every morning at six o'clock I had to get up on time, then start making the bed, getting dressed, washing my face, brushing my teeth, and going to the bathroom. My mother wasn't very concerned about my older sister, but she was overly concerned about me. She not only helped me get dressed and wash my face, but also taught me how to brush my teeth properly. When I went to the bathroom, she followed me in, holding toilet paper in her hand. As soon as I stood up, she immediately commanded,

"Stick your bottom up!" So I stuck my bare bottom up high towards my mother's face. My mother carefully wiped my bottom, and then, with a provocative slap of her slender white hand, she said,

"Okay, stand up!" When I stood up, my mother was still squatting at my feet, patiently helping me fasten my belt.

"Okay, all tied up, wash your hands and go eat breakfast!" And so, my mother tirelessly wiped my bottom, from toddlerhood to childhood, from kindergarten to elementary school, all the way up to third grade. During this time, I couldn't poop without my mother's help; without her, I didn't know how to wipe myself. From kindergarten to elementary school, I never even used the toilets; my mother always took care of everything at home.

Breakfast was served promptly at 6:30. After breakfast, my mother, having finished getting ready, would take my hand and lead me to school. At noon, my mother and I ate lunch together in her office. All afternoon, she wouldn't let me leave the office. She sat at her desk knitting, while I sat beside her, reading my lessons aloud over and over again. When she thought I was getting tired, she would allow me a little free time, but I was not allowed to go any further than the long corridor opposite the office.

After work, I went home with my mother, had dinner, and then washed my face and feet.

"Okay, let's go to sleep!" I murmured. "Mom," she looked at me, smiled knowingly, and gently walked to my bedside. She lifted her shirt, revealing a pair of exceptionally white and smooth breasts.

"You're so shameless, you're so big already, and you still want to touch them!" In this world, the most unforgettable thing for me, the thing I will always yearn for, is my mother's breasts. I've always believed that my mother's breasts are the most beautiful, and this is an undeniable fact. Whenever my mother holds my hand as we walk to work, those swaying breasts always attract the lustful, wicked gazes of men. This makes me both proud and annoyed. My mother's breasts belong to me, what are you looking at? My mother's breasts were enormous, sinking deep into her abdomen to form two lovely, gently sloping hills with beautiful curves. Two round, strong nipples pressed against her bra without a care, revealing a pair of alluring little bumps. From infancy to childhood, my mother had an endless supply of milk for me to drink. I nestled happily in my mother's soft breasts, swallowing mouthfuls of incredibly nutritious milk while lovingly playing with her ample bosom. At these times, Mom would appear so gentle, no longer coldly scolding or reprimanding me as she usually did. Instead, she would lie quietly on her side, and as I continued to suckle,

she would involuntarily moan: "Ouch, ouch, ouch, son, bite gently, it hurts so much!" I would ignore her words and instead teasingly nibble at her breasts. A helpless smile would appear on Mom's face, and her chubby hand would lovingly stroke my head:

"You little rascal, ouch, you're hurting Mom, ouch, ouch!" After weaning, I remained unchanged in my fascination with Mom's breasts. Every afternoon after school, while Mom was doing odd jobs and teaching me, I would deliberately lean against her. When my colleagues weren't looking, I would secretly slip my hand into Mom's bosom and caress her. Mom would watch silently with her head down, occasionally muttering a few words:

"Okay, okay, have you touched enough?" Every night before bed, I had to caress my mother's breasts before I would crawl into bed. I wished my father would always be away on business. Whenever he was away, I would quietly slip into my mother's bedroom after washing up. My mother, who had just finished washing up, was sitting on the soft bed trimming her beautiful toenails. When she saw me come in, she stopped:

"Xiao Li, you're done washing up, why aren't you asleep yet?" "Mom," I stubbornly stood by my mother's bed. My mother understood and lifted the corner of the blanket:

"Sigh, you good-for-nothing child, come in!" With my mother's permission, I happily climbed into bed and burrowed into my mother's warm blankets. My mother straightened the blankets and then crawled in as well. I was so happy that I forgot myself, snuggling tightly against my mother's chest, grabbing her breasts, and drifting into a sweet dream in an indescribable feeling of happiness.

My mother's love for me is sincere and meticulous; it is the greatest love in the world—motherly love! However, this greatest motherly love is by no means without principle. Once she discovers that I have done anything wrong, even the smallest and most insignificant mistake, she will immediately darken her face and punish me without any mercy.

"Xiaoli, come here," one Sunday morning, Mom had tidied the entire house spotlessly, and the balcony was covered with her newly washed clothes. She wiped the sweat from her brow and then grabbed my Chinese textbook:

"Xiaoli, come here, stop playing, it's time to study, time for a dictation!" Hearing Mom's command, I, still engrossed in playing, frowned and sat down next to her. Mom held the Chinese textbook and recited it methodically, while I mechanically and listlessly wrote it down. Because I had no interest, I often made mistakes, either omitting a stroke or adding an extra dot. I picked up the eraser and angrily scrubbed the workbook:

"Damn it, I made a mistake again!..." "Slap—," a loud slap landed heavily on my cheek. I immediately put down my pencil in pain, covering my poor little face in agony. Mom scolded me sternly:

"Don't swear, it's so ill-mannered if someone hears you!" After saying that, Mom handed me an apple as compensation for the slap:

"Here, have an apple first, then continue your dictation!" Tears welled in my eyes as I gnawed on the red apple, but after eating more than half, I couldn't taste any sweetness. I glanced at the remaining half, gave it a flick of my wrist, and with a whoosh, the half-apple flew out the window.

"Smack—," I stared blankly at the fallen half-apple when my mother mercilessly slapped my cheek again:

"Who told you to throw things out the window? What if someone got hit? That's so inconsiderate!" I covered my face and sobbed pitifully against the windowsill. My mother came over and gently stroked my cheek with her delicate white hand:

"My child, my good son, you must be well-mannered and not act recklessly! Go on," she pushed me:

"Go downstairs and play for a while!" Oh, how pitiful!

But in this dormitory building, there are people even more pitiful than me. My best friend, Sun Xun, is much more pitiful than me. I can at least go downstairs for a little fresh air every day, though not for very long, never more than an hour each time. But Sun Xun's mother keeps him locked in his room all day long, not even allowed to go downstairs or into the hallway. Only me and a few other girls are allowed to visit Sun Xun's house, and even then, it's like visiting someone in prison—there are time restrictions. Just when we're having a great time, Sun Xun's mother always regrettably tells us to leave.

"Go home, all of you! Sun Xun needs to study!" I wiped away my tears and walked downstairs alone. The dormitory courtyard was deserted; not a single friend was there. Sigh, who would I play with? Suddenly, a cacophony of children's voices came from the collapsed brick wall. No doubt, it was the children from the bungalow area playing happily! I quietly followed the sound. When I reached the gap in the brick wall, my legs suddenly felt like lead. Looking at the crooked brick wall, I felt like I was standing on the edge of a forbidden zone, not daring to take a single step. My mother and all the uncles and aunts in the dormitory unanimously called the bungalow area outside the brick wall a slum, forbidding us from contacting or playing with them.

"Xiao Li," I mustered my courage and was about to step over the collapsed brick wall when suddenly, my mother's cold, but terrifyingly harsh voice came from behind me. My mother didn't say much, but just the two words "Xiao Li" were enough to make my heart tremble. I stopped abruptly, then mechanically turned around. My mother's head was sticking out of the window, and she shook me sternly. I immediately understood that my mother was ordering me to go upstairs and go home.

"Xiao Li," I timidly pushed open the door, and my mother grabbed my arm:

"Xiao Li, what did I tell you, hmm?" "I said: Don't play with the wild children from the slums!" "But what were you trying to do just now? Were you going to crawl over the brick wall to play with those wild children?" "No," I protested:

"No, Mom, I didn't go over there. There was a slipper by the wall, and I wanted to pick it up!" "That's still not allowed. You can't just pick things up; they're too dirty!" The large wooden clock hanging on the wall started to chime strangely, and my mother stood up as if wound up:

"It's five o'clock. Time for dinner!" And so, my day ended. After dinner, under my mother's incessant nagging, I started washing my face and feet, and I had to make the bed neatly. Just as I was about to crawl into bed, my mother placed a stack of clothes that had been drying during the day beside me:

"Don't sleep yet, change your shirt!" "Mom, I just changed it yesterday!" "I know, but it's already dirty. Stop talking nonsense and change it now. You filthy little thing!" Under my mother's gaze, I slowly took off all my clothes. My white little penis swayed ridiculously between my legs. I grabbed my shorts, ready to put them on to cover my shy little penis, but my mother gave me an order that made me very embarrassed:

"Don't rush to put them on!" "Hmm," I looked at my mother with a puzzled expression. I saw my mother bring over a basin of warm water:

"Lie down, Mom will wipe your little calf!" "Mom," I hate it when my mother does this. How can a boy's little penis be handled by others? Even if you are my mother, I don't welcome it. But Mom was strict; her orders were law and could not be disobeyed. I had no choice but to obediently lie down. Mom dipped her plump, jade-like hands in the water in the basin, then grasped my little penis and rubbed it repeatedly.

"So dirty," Mom said sarcastically.

"You brat!" I would never understand why Mom was so interested in my little penis, making me scrub it carefully every few days. As she scrubbed, she pulled back the thin foreskin, her beautiful eyes scrutinizing the head of my penis.

"Look, it's full of black grime, so filthy!" After saying that, Mom picked up a bar of soap and rubbed it on the head of my penis, constantly rubbing it with her fingertips.

"A boy's penis must be cleaned frequently, otherwise he'll get sick!" Mom muttered very seriously. Mom not only frequently cleaned my penis, but also frequently cleaned my sister's urination, but I was absolutely not allowed to be present. Whenever Mom cleaned my sister's urination, she would ruthlessly kick me out of the house.

"Go," Mom said to me, carrying a small porcelain basin specifically for washing my sister's urine.

"Xiaoli, go downstairs and play for a while!" I had just stepped out of the room when Mom slammed the door shut. I heard her order to my sister,

"Dongdong, hurry up and take your pants off!" As I grew up, I understood Mom and was very grateful to her. Mom was a wonderful mother. Because of her care and love, my sister and I grew up healthy. We developed good habits, and not a single swear word ever came out of our mouths. Furthermore, we both had two rows of clean, straight teeth that many people envied. Our physical development was also excellent; we had no inflammation or ailments. One year, when I was in the countryside, a little girl I was playing with suddenly clutched her lower body and rolled around on the ground in pain. None of the other rural children knew what was wrong with her. Suddenly, I remembered something:

"Her urine must be dirty, and bacteria are tormenting her!" Her mother believed me and brought her some clean water to wash her urine. The little girl stopped rolling around in dissatisfaction and stopped crying and making a fuss.

Whenever my mother cleaned my penis, I would secretly watch her face. I noticed a look of happiness on her face, as if she wasn't holding an ordinary penis for peeing, but a precious treasure that she was incredibly proud of. That expression only appeared after my mother had cleaned me up and taken me to her office, when she heard a series of exclamations from her colleagues:

"Oh my, your son is so handsome!" "Yes, what a good-looking child!" "Not only is he handsome, but he's also dressed beautifully!" "You really know how to take care of your child!" "Your son will definitely be successful in the future, he'll surely become a high-ranking official!" "..." At these times, my mother, who dreamed of her son becoming a dragon among men, would be filled with boundless happiness and pride. She would hold her head high, carrying her small handbag, smiling at me, her eyes seeming to say: Hehe, how about it, isn't my son wonderful, so handsome? He's my precious baby!

When my mother washed my penis, her face radiated this proud and happy expression. Each time she finished, she would chuckle and lightly tap it with her finger:

"Okay, clean now, go to sleep!" The world is never perfect, things never go as planned. My mother had complete faith in me, placing her greatest hopes on me. But I greatly disappointed her. I didn't want to be successful, much less become a high-ranking official! I had only one dream—to be a writer!

To be honest, my dream of becoming a writer was also fostered by my mother. She piled one classic novel after another, from ancient and modern times, Chinese and foreign, in front of me without any regard for whether I could understand them or not, or even if I could digest them:

"Look, look, look! Finish reading all these books!" Under my mother's urging, I spent my days hunched over my desk, devouring one book after another, reading the wonderful, sometimes convoluted, sometimes tear-jerking, sometimes hilarious stories, savoring the flowing, eloquent words, and gazing at the author's biography and portrait on the title page. Gradually, a distant yet grand ideal sprouted within me: I would definitely become a writer someday! I wanted to write books, I wanted to write many, many thick and heavy books.

Once the goal was set, I eagerly picked up my pen and began to put it into practice. But as my trembling hand landed on the neat manuscript paper, I realized my mind was a terrifying blank:

What to write? Yes, what to write?

I racked my brains, unable to sleep or eat. After several nights of agonizing thought, I finally produced a groundbreaking piece that caused a sensation throughout the dormitory: A poor old farmer worked his entire life as a farmhand for a wicked landlord, eventually dying from exhaustion, yet still unable to repay his debt. Three years later, the farmer's wife gave birth to another son. When he learned that his father had died from exhaustion while working for the landlord, a seed of hatred was planted in his childhood heart. He wanted revenge for his father, so he resolutely joined the revolutionary ranks, determined to overthrow this cannibalistic old society.

The first reader of my masterpiece was, of course, my confidant—Sun Xun. As he read, he suddenly chuckled mockingly. I was puzzled:

"What are you laughing at? Did I write something wrong?" "Hehe," Sun Xun said playfully, smiling at me.

"Don't you know where you wrote it wrong?" "No! I didn't write it wrong!" "Idiot!" Sun Xun put down my masterpiece and arrogantly lectured me:

"Hmph, with this little bit of education, you want to be a writer? That old farmer has been dead for three years, and his wife still managed to give birth to a child? Hmm, can you stop making a scene!" "Oh," I asked, confused:

"Why not!" "No," "Why not!" "It just can't!" Sun Xun and I argued from my house to his house, holding our newly published masterpiece. Sun Xun's mother was standing in front of her dressing table, applying makeup. Hearing our argument, she burst into laughter. Sun Xun walked to his mother's side:

"Mom, do you think it's possible?" "Hahaha," Sun Xun's mother laughed so hard she almost fell over:

"Yes, yes, maybe it's a posthumous child!" "But," Sun Xun said unconvinced:

"Even if it's a posthumous child, it's impossible for it to take three years to be born!" This news spread faster than an autumn wind; the entire dormitory and even the entire design institute knew about it. For a long time, I was too ashamed to go out.

This incident deeply wounded my self-esteem and thoroughly educated me. To make up for this lesson, I began rummaging through my belongings, searching for books on this subject. However, in that particular era, amidst that vigorous revolutionary movement, "sex" was considered an absolutely taboo topic that could not be discussed in public. "Sex" was seen as the dirtiest and most shameful thing. I searched through all the books I could find at home, but still couldn't find a single book that discussed this topic. I even read Engels' *The Origin of the Family and Private Property*, which did contain discussions on "sex," but it was too profound for a primary school student like me to understand.

Disappointed, I fixed my gaze on my mother's dressing table. Beneath the large mirror was a small drawer that was always locked. From the mysterious look on my mother's face whenever she opened it, I was certain it contained something shameful, something related to men's affairs. I made up my mind to find a chance to open it. However, the key was always in my mother's handbag, which she carried with her to work every day. I tried many times, using various methods, but I never got the key.

Then, by sheer chance, I discovered the secret of the drawer. It was a day off, and my mother, urged by her colleagues, went to an event. In her haste to leave, she was so busy reminding me not to be naughty at home, not to turn on the gas, and so on, that she completely forgot to lock the drawer. This filled me with joy and delight. After Mom locked the door, I quietly slipped into her bedroom and excitedly pulled open the small drawer. Ah, a scene of wonder immediately appeared before my eyes; I saw something I had never seen before.

... Chapter Two: In Mom's small, exquisite drawer, there were strings of colorful plastic bags. Curiosity compelled me to grab a bag and examine it closely. Inside the sealed plastic bags were small, milky-white circles. I couldn't figure out what these little circles were for, so I put them back. My hand continued searching in the small drawer, lifting a thick layer of drawings. I saw several books and pulled them out. Just as I was about to open the pages, *plop*, a square photograph fell out of the book. I picked it up and looked at it; it was a picture of a toddler's head. Looking at the text in the upper left corner of the photo: "Lili's 100-Day Anniversary," oh, the toddler in the photo was me! It was my 100-day anniversary photo. Thank you, Mom! I murmured to myself, feeling a warm glow in my heart, and I loved my mother even more. Thinking of her love for me, I carefully opened the book. Wow—suddenly, my gaze fell on the page, and I almost cried out in surprise. On the slightly yellowed page was a close-up of a woman urinating. Staring at the hairy, messy female genitalia, I was momentarily speechless. This, this, this… My hands trembled as I continued turning the pages. The further I turned, the more shocking the scene became. Not only were the pictures incredibly stimulating, but the text was even more enticing. The thick book meticulously described the "sex" between men and women: foreplay, teasing, caressing, erogenous zones, kissing, lubrication, erection, intercourse, friction, pleasure, orgasm, ejaculation… It made my heart pound and my blood rush to my head. I quickly skimmed through the incredibly captivating text, then turned back to the diagram of the female external genitalia. I noticed that each part was labeled with a number: 1, 2, 3, ... Following these numbers, I finally figured out the names of each part: mons pubis, clitoris, labia, vaginal opening, urethral opening, hymen, pubic hair... Wow, I'd never heard of this before! It turns out that female urination is so complex—it's practically a miniature machine with an intricate structure and exquisite design! Then I saw the anatomical diagram of the female internal reproductive organs, learning that the female body also contains the uterus, ovaries, fallopian tubes, and so on. Then I saw the planar and anatomical diagrams of the male reproductive organs, finally understanding that the male reproductive organ—the penis we use to urinate—can also become erect and be inserted into the female vagina. Then: ejaculation, pregnancy, childbirth. If you don't want to get pregnant or have a child, you use a condom—the little ring in Mom's drawer. You put it on your penis, and the semen is expelled into the small pocket at the top of that ring, preventing it from flowing into the woman's uterus and meeting the egg, thus preventing pregnancy and childbirth.

Some of these books were my mother's old physiology and hygiene textbooks from school, and some were books on gynecology. A book about family planning that Mom's workplace gave me finally figured out the purpose of those little rings. Hehe, this thing is called a condom!

Curiosity made me put down the book and continue searching. I saw a small plastic box, opened it, and hehe, it turned out to be a hard, cold plastic penis! My dear Mom, what do you need this for? Isn't Dad's penis enough for you? I held the plastic penis, turning it over and over to examine it. Suddenly, my fingertip accidentally touched something, and the plastic penis started squeaking and beeping. The cool plastic rod began to shake rapidly, quickly making my hand sore and numb. I frantically found the switch, turned it off, and put it back in the plastic box.

Clang—suddenly, the plastic box bumped into something hard. I looked down and saw—oh, it was a large ancient coin, about eight centimeters in diameter. Unlike ordinary ancient coins, this one, which my mother collected, had no inscription. Instead, it was engraved with various sexual positions: man on top, woman on top, man behind, and so on—truly bizarre!

I was very puzzled: why did my mother collect this thing?

I continued rummaging through the drawer. At the very bottom, beneath a layer of drawing paper, I pulled out a thick stack of sheets. These were the ones my mother used; I was very familiar with this kind of paper. My mother had studied art at teachers' college, so she had a solid foundation in drawing. As I slowly unfolded the paper, I was once again astonished. My mother, what have you drawn?

On each small, clean sheet of paper, my mother had skillfully sketched the voluptuous nudes of beautiful women. I examined them closely and noticed a striking feature: each picture of a beautiful woman bore traces of my mother's features. Look, those large, firm breasts, those long, shapely legs, those piercing eyes—these are all things my mother possesses! Each nude beauty was in a very wanton "sexual intercourse" pose, which broadened my horizons. "My mother," I muttered to myself. "My mother, who is usually so serious, solemn, and pretentious, is actually such a wanton and lewd woman! She has collected so many sex-related items, and not content with that, she even uses herself as a model to draw modern-day erotic pictures!"

I stared at them, mesmerized, for a long, long time. Suddenly, the door clicked open. Oh no, Mom's back! I hurriedly stuffed the books back into the drawer and then grabbed a small ring from the plastic bag.

That night, I couldn't fall asleep for a long time. Every time I closed my eyes, images of female genitalia flashed through my mind: a woman's thick thighs spread incredibly alluringly, and incredibly, black hair growing between her legs—the very opening for urination. Surrounded by these tufts of hair, a beautiful little fleshy opening was faintly visible. It turned out that the opening wasn't for urination, but... for "sexual intercourse," for "giving birth."

Thinking of this, I lifted the corner of the blanket and, by the bright moonlight, secretly examined the small ring and condom in my hand. I had learned from my mother's books that this little ring was meant to be placed on the man's erect penis and then inserted into the woman's genitals. So, I secretly removed the plastic seal from the little ring and slowly unfolded it. Wow, what a long little ring! Seeing my sister sleeping soundly beside me, I quietly sat up. I pulled down my underwear and took out my penis. I tried to put a small ring on it, but my penis was too small and couldn't get erect. The ring simply wouldn't go on, which disappointed me.

The next day, something else happened that stimulated me even more. When I ran to Sun Xun's house to play, Sun Xun's father was preparing to take his precious son to take a bath. When the kind Uncle Sun saw me enter the house, he said cheerfully,

"We're going to take a bath, do you want to come?" "Yes!" I answered without thinking.

So, I entered the bathhouse for the first time. It was also the first time I had taken off my clothes and bathed naked without my mother. I stared blankly around. Dozens of adult men, their wet, naked bodies floating around in the steamy bath, had thick, dark hair growing on their genitals, just like the ones described in books. This greatly surprised me, and at the same time, it strongly stimulated my intense interest in the genitals of adult women: Was my mother's urine like the pictures in the book? Did my mother's urine also have black hair?

Ever since the day I first saw a naked adult man, seeing their soft, but much larger penises than mine, and their ridiculously drooping, red glans, and those tufts of black hair, I had become curious about my mother's urine. From that day on, my interest in my mother underwent a strategic shift, from her breasts to her buttocks. However, while I dared to touch my mother's breasts, I didn't have the courage to ask to see her urine. Yet, I was so obsessed with my mother's urine that, in order to witness the secret of her urine as soon as possible, I racked my brains and tried every method I could think of, but each time I failed.

In desperation, I took a risk. While my mother was out, I secretly used a nail to try and drill a hole in the wooden toilet door, hoping to peek at her while she urinated. However, the toilet door was too thick and heavy; I struggled with hammering and drilling for a long time without making a single hole. I had to drop the nail and hastily end this futile task. I stood there in the toilet, utterly disappointed, my gaze wandering aimlessly. Suddenly, my eyes fell on the plywood separating the toilet from the shower. Ah, I had an idea! The plywood was thin, and after years of exposure to moisture, it had been pried up in several places, making it very easy to peel. So, I picked up the nail again, pressed it against the plywood, and with a light tap of the hammer, I chiseled out a small hole. I then haphazardly stirred the nail around in the hole, and the hole gradually widened. Only then did I stop, satisfied.

Everything was ready, and I anxiously awaited my mother's bath. Finally, I saw her stroll into the shower room in a very sexy bathrobe. Hearing the rushing water, I rushed into the toilet, pretending to defecate, and quietly squatted down, my curious eyes greedily fixed on the holes in the plywood.

I saw it! I finally saw it! My mother stood naked in the steamy shower room. Through the thick mist, I saw that she indeed had fine black hair growing between her legs. However, her black hair wasn't as long and thick as described in books. It was sparse, scattered across her plump mound. Gazing at my mother's alluring crotch, I was extremely excited, panting heavily, my heart pounding wildly. I tried hard to control myself.

What happened next made my blood boil even more. My mother suddenly sat on the chair in the shower room, spreading her two snow-white thighs apart. I saw two slender, tender fleshy parts hidden among the dark hair. If I wasn't mistaken, those must be the labia described in books! My mother pulled the two tender flesh apart and then inserted a plastic tube. At the other end of the tube was a ball. My mother repeatedly pressed the ball, making a gurgling sound. She was washing her urine. My mother squeezed all the detergent from the ball into her urine, then slowly pulled out the plastic tube. With a whoosh, a stream of foamy liquid gushed out of my mother's urine. My mother then picked up a bar of soap and repeatedly scrubbed her sparsely haired crotch, then pulled the faucet to her crotch and rinsed it continuously. Finally, my mother took a white towel and carefully dried herself clean.

"Oh," Mom sighed,

"So tired!" Mom's white legs remained spread apart. I noticed she frowned, tugging at the soft, white flesh between her legs for a long time, then scratching the messy black hair. It seemed Mom really disliked this hair. Look, she picked up a pair of scissors and started cutting it, one sliver at a time, in front of the mirror:

"What a mess, so awful!" After cutting off the slightly longer hair, Mom picked up a small brush. Wow, my goodness, wasn't that the brush Dad used to shave? What? Mom was using it to wipe her own pee! I watched as Mom smeared piles of white foam onto the pee, then picked up something that astonished me—Dad's razor!

Mom gently pressed Dad's razor against her foam-covered crotch, then carefully scraped away the remaining black hair. Wherever the sharp blade passed, a patch of tender white flesh was revealed. Soon, all the dark hair on her mons pubis was shaved clean by my mother, revealing its lovely fine white color. She then used the razor to shave between her thighs, and wiped away the foam from her genitals with a white towel.

Having done this, my mother finally stood up, her long, white legs pressed together, admiring herself proudly in the mirror. Her dignified face, her newly permed and dyed hair, her rounded shoulders, her full, sagging breasts, and her slender, almost flawless white thighs were all captivating. Especially her freshly shaved pubic area—not a single unsightly black hair—resembled a pristine snowdrift in the cold winter, with a captivating little groove gently extending downwards. Its perfect shape reminded me of the little slide in the park that I could never get enough of playing on.

From that moment on, my mother's perfectly shaved genitals were forever etched in my mind; I considered them a unique work of art. Looking at the condom in my hand, I couldn't bear the thought of my father's erect penis, wearing it, penetrating deep inside. Yet, almost every night, my father would relentlessly penetrate my mother's work of art while wearing it. Every morning, I would secretly peek into the small plastic trash can in the corner of the bathroom wall, and each time I would see a condom, soaked in sticky fluid and utterly wretched, which infuriated me.

To witness firsthand how my father penetrated my mother, this work of art that fascinated me, I took another drastic step. Every morning, my mother would open the window to let in fresh air. It was early spring, and the nasty winds would repeatedly blow into the house, pounding against the innocent door. The door was constantly being slammed against the frame, resulting in it becoming loose and layers of white plaster peeling off. I seized the opportunity to use a pencil sharpener to pry away the remaining white plaster at the joint between the door frame and the brick wall, creating a narrow gap. To see better, I even loosened half a brick. That night, after my sister fell asleep, I excused myself to go to the bathroom and sneaked to my mother's bedroom door. I gently pulled out the half brick and peered through the doorframe.

My mother's bedroom was pitch black; heavy curtains completely covered the windows. However, even in the darkness, I could still see two dark figures pressed tightly together. The larger one was my father, writhing on top of my mother, while my mother's long legs were bent, her arms tightly embracing him.

"Oh--, oh--," Mom groaned repeatedly under Dad's fierce thrusts, then placed her thighs on Dad's buttocks:

"Oh--, oh--," Mom continued to groan, but still impatiently urged Dad:

"Faster, faster, harder!" So Dad began to struggle desperately, while Mom struck a ridiculous pose reminiscent of a picture book, making me stick out my tongue. From that dark night onward, Mom's perfect, towering image of the Virgin Mary in my mind was greatly diminished.

"Hmm--," after a period of exhausting struggle, Dad suddenly sighed, then collapsed onto Mom's body with a thud. Mom slowly pushed Dad away, gently grasping his penis with one hand. By the dim moonlight, I saw Mom help Dad remove the condom from his penis, then wrap it in toilet paper and throw it under the bed.

"Don't move!" Mom commanded. She sat up and repeatedly wiped Dad's penis with toilet paper, then wiped her own urination. Finally, she quietly slipped a wad of toilet paper under the bed. Mom, naked, crawled to the edge of the bed. I trembled with fear and fled back to my own bed without looking back. But I immediately regretted it; I forgot to put the half-brick back into the door frame.

"Click," Mom, wearing a bathrobe, pushed open her bedroom door. Less than a minute later, I heard the sound of running water from the shower. Mom was taking a shower again!

I was about to sneak to the door and put the half-brick back into the door frame, but I didn't have the courage. I was afraid Dad would find me, so I hid under the covers, not daring to move, still clutching the condom I couldn't put on my penis. Just now, the scene of Dad pressing down on Mom replayed in my mind like a movie. I also thought of the descriptions in books about how after a man and woman have intercourse, the sperm and egg combine to create a new life.

Ah, staring at the condom on my fingertip, in my confusion and bewilderment, a bizarre thought occurred to me, and a ridiculous scene unfolded before my blurry vision... Chapter Three: The frequent and fierce battles broke out again. Our undefeated commander-in-chief, who made me Dad, bared his teeth and roared hysterically, wielding his oversized cannon, his penis launching a frenzied attack on Mom's long-unconquered vagina. The thick, hard cannon barrel, rubbed repeatedly and violently against the cave walls, glowed a deep, scorching red, shimmering with tiny sparkles, and emitted a gurgling sound. The massive cannonhead pounded viciously against a tightly closed entrance at the very bottom of the fleshy cave. The barrel and cannonhead, organically combined, resembled a terrifying iron rod crashing against the unyielding entrance with overwhelming force. The exhilarating scene was reminiscent of the vivid depiction of beggars carrying a large wooden club and storming Notre Dame Cathedral. Each time the cannonhead plunged into the fleshy cave, a familiar, seawater-like liquid gushed forth from the cave walls, like the boiling water Quasimodo overturned, relentlessly pouring onto the repeatedly thrusting barrel and cannonhead.

"Light--, clang--, ……," "Oh--, yo--, ……," With each thrust of the cannon into the fleshy hole, each impact of the cannon head against the entrance, a helpless sigh of unbearable burden came from behind the entrance:

"Oh--, yo--, ……," "Light--, clang--, ……," "Oh--, yo--, ……," "……" "Attention, elite soldiers!" Commander-in-Chief Father gritted his teeth and issued the order:

"Everyone prepare yourselves, we will launch the final offensive!" The so-called final offensive was to launch the elite soldiers, hidden deep within the cannon and ready to go at any moment, like cannonballs being fired, with a whoosh as they were pushed out of the muzzle. Then, the thousands upon thousands of elite soldiers inside the fleshy hole would rush headlong toward the entrance without hesitation. Unfortunately, my Commander-in-Chief has led us in a nearly six-month-long assault on this fleshy cave, launching countless elite troops. Yet, to this day, not a single elite soldier has managed to break through the cave entrance and enter that mysterious place. Ha, what kind of elite troops are these?

In previous frequent offensives, I was always assigned to the reserve, which is why I'm lucky enough to have survived this long. I've witnessed my comrades being mercilessly fired from the cannons, then silently submerged in the seawater-like liquid at the bottom of the cave, bravely facing their deaths. I secretly rejoiced in my good fortune; I hoped I could remain a reserve member forever, living on forever. But last night, my Commander-in-Chief suddenly had a whim and decided to launch a powerful offensive codenamed "White Whirlwind" to break through the long-stalled cave entrance in one fell swoop. I was transferred to the front lines, becoming part of the first wave rushing towards the cave entrance after the attack began. I was utterly desperate; my death was finally at hand. Look, Death is beckoning to me with a cruel smile!

"Listen up, everyone!" Commander-in-Chief Dad began his pre-battle mobilization, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He was a complete second Ma Su, and sure enough, he launched into a long, theoretical sermon. Commander-in-Chief Dad launched into a torrent of rhetoric about the Normandy landings, the Sicilian landings, the Okinawa landings, the Battle of Verdun, the assault on Monte Cassino, Stalingrad… his words roused us elite soldiers, making us eager to fight.

"Comrades, the moment to make our mark has arrived! Hear my command, charge!" Before I could even process what was happening, I was ejected from the gun barrel with a whoosh and tumbled into the bottomless abyss. Countless elite soldiers floated on the sea-like liquid. The horrific scene reminded me of the Titus disaster, where soldiers struggled desperately, wailing pitifully, before sinking one by one to the bottom of the sea. Fortunately, I didn't immediately sink to the bottom of the sea. Countless elite soldiers were struggling beneath me, while I floated above them, involuntarily rushing towards the distant cave entrance. Like a small, helpless boat, I was desperately tossed forward by wave after wave of towering waves, swallowing countless mouthfuls of salty seawater. Finally, quite unexpectedly, I drifted to the cave entrance. Gasping for breath, my seawater-soaked, drenched body pressed tightly against the equally wet cave wall. I opened my dazed eyes and stared blankly around at the familiar yet strange cave. My poor companions had all sunk to the bottom, drowning and choking to death. For a moment, I was at a loss, not knowing what to do. My father, the Commander-in-Chief, his cannon as hard as steel, had already slipped out of the cave, and the entire cave fell into a deathly silence. I sat there, dumbfounded, on a pile of strangely shaped flesh. Gradually, I felt an unprecedented warmth in my buttocks. I was quite puzzled; what a wondrous flesh cave! The pile of flesh inside could actually generate warmth. Soon, the warmth spread throughout my entire body at an unimaginable speed. I lay blissfully on the pile of flesh, fully enjoying the warmth I had never experienced before.

"Thump!" The warm pile of flesh beneath me suddenly trembled slightly, revealing a huge gap as if the sky had collapsed. I didn't have time to escape; my foot slipped, and I fell into the gap with a thud.

"Coming!" In the darkness, I heard a gentle voice. I looked closely, and suddenly everything was bright. A round monster, many times larger than me, shimmered with a blinding light and looked at me very kindly:

"You've finally come! Come here!" "You, you," I asked timidly,

"Who are you?" "Egg, I am the egg. Come here!" Before I could answer, suddenly, an invisible force pushed me to the side of the monster egg. I dared not imagine what would happen next, but the monster egg was not very scary. She slowly reached out and hugged me tightly. In the warm embrace of the monster egg, the fear gradually dissipated. I tilted my head, and wow, I was inside the monster egg's body. I was utterly terrified. I writhed desperately inside the monster, trying to escape. But the faster I struggled, the tighter the monster gripped me. Like a trapped beast, I continued my futile struggle until I became a pitiful little fleshy sprout encased in an impenetrable shell.

Having survived such a calamity, I found a new haven. I lived happily inside the shell, feeling myself swell day by day. In this constant expansion, I underwent a qualitative change, becoming someone I didn't even recognize: Who am I? How did I become like this?

The Commander-in-Chief, Father, relentlessly launched wave after wave of frenzied attacks on the fleshy opening. His hard cannon pounded against the entrance, repeatedly waking me from my sweet dreams.

"Commander-in-Chief!" I shouted through the thick fleshy shell towards my Commander-in-Chief father at the cave entrance.

"Success! Success! I have followed your orders and successfully stormed the cave entrance, capturing this place you couldn't conquer for so long! I am now the master of this place!" Perhaps my Commander-in-Chief father couldn't hear me, he continued to relentlessly direct the cannons to pound the fleshy cave. The cave, under fierce attack, emitted increasingly intense groans:

"Oh--, oh--,..." "Oh--, oh--,..." I cursed inwardly: Damn it, that annoying guy! It's going too far! He's already achieved his goal, yet he still keeps pestering me. Gradually, I began to feel sorry for the cave. Whenever my Commander-in-Chief father attacked the cave, whenever I heard the pitiful groans of the cave, I would shout curses at my Commander-in-Chief father at the cave entrance.

After a series of fruitless struggles, the perpetually defeated Commander-in-Chief, Father, finally abandoned countless pitiful elite soldiers and fled in disarray, leaving them to struggle hopelessly within the cave. At this moment, the owner of the flesh cave also ceased her groans. I saw a handkerchief reach to the edge of the flesh cave, gently gathering the corpses of the soldiers into its soft fabric. Sometimes, after a chaotic and chaotic battle, the owner of the flesh cave would use the handkerchief to block the entrance, then go into the bathroom and repeatedly wash the corpse-strewn flesh cave with the shower. While washing her ravaged flesh cave, the owner of the flesh cave would gently caress my cozy nest, a large, gradually swelling fleshy mound. Through the thick fleshy shell, from that gentle caress, I felt that the owner of the flesh cave did not see me as an enemy who had infiltrated her; on the contrary, the owner of the flesh cave cherished me greatly. I had become a part of her, a fleshy band tightly connecting me to the owner of the flesh cave, sharing the same breath and fate. Ah, I love you so much, owner of the flesh cave!

The belligerent Commander-in-Chief finally realized he had won the final victory. A tenacious soldier shot out of the cannon and burrowed into the belly of the Flesh Hole Master. So, he and the Flesh Hole Master reached a truce. Ah, I can finally rest and sleep peacefully inside the Flesh Hole Master's belly!

But, this peaceful time didn't last long. The ever-restless Commander-in-Chief started causing trouble again. He led the Flesh Hole Master, with his large, bulging fleshy bun, around wildly. All sorts of strange things shoved onto the bun, making me incredibly annoyed. Look, what is this rubbish? That blinding light can actually penetrate the thick fleshy shell and shine directly onto me! I also hear incredibly annoying chattering sounds; many monsters are pointing and gesturing at my big fleshy bun. It's fucking annoying!

"Ah!" A terrifying tube pierced into my fleshy hole, expanding it to the point of bursting. I screamed in terror. Then, something even more terrifying happened: two fleshy rods, piercing through the tube, maliciously touched my large fleshy opening. "What are you doing? What are you going to do? Ah, what a terrible world!"

I continued to swell like a balloon. The owner of the fleshy opening stroked me more frequently, whispering secrets to me as she placed her palm on my large fleshy opening. Naturally mischievous, I seized the opportunity and suddenly kicked my already fully developed little foot hard against the owner's hand. Far from being angry, the owner stroked me even more affectionately. From the words I couldn't understand, I sensed that the owner was very happy because of me.

For this, I felt incredibly proud. I writhed wildly inside my large fleshy opening, stretching out my magically conjured arms and legs. I even wanted to open my mouth and shout, to have a passionate conversation with the owner through the thick fleshy shell. Whenever I was naughty, the owner of the flesh hole would gently press me down with his palm, muttering incessantly, probably admonishing me: "Good boy, don't be naughty, stay in there!"

I ignored the owner's sincere admonitions, continuing to stretch my arms and twist my legs, and my movements became increasingly exaggerated. Joy turned to sorrow; with a splash, I kicked open the large fleshy bun that had nurtured me, and whoosh—a stream of yellowish-brown liquid immediately gushed towards the entrance, like water bursting from a dam. The owner of the flesh hole screamed in alarm, desperately trying to hold the torn fleshy bun in his hands, rolling around frantically on the floor. 02-16 2.

Having caused such a disaster, I didn't know what to do. The large fleshy bun trembled violently. I felt like an egg yolk whose hard shell had been broken, the egg white gushing out through the cracked shell, and I, wrapped in the egg white, drifted along with the current to the entrance of the flesh hole. My enormous head, taking up almost half the volume of the giant meat bun, slammed against the entrance of the hole with a thud. Ah, the entrance was far too narrow; I couldn't squeeze out no matter what I did. I couldn't help but feel a surge of emotions: back when I was a valiant soldier, how tiny I was, so tiny that I was practically invisible to the naked eye. I floated in the meat bun like a leaf falling into the ocean.

But now, I had swelled to a terrifying degree, making it impossible for me to crawl out smoothly. I desperately pushed against the entrance.

"Ah--, ah--, ah--…" Hearing the owner of the meat bun scream in pain, I realized my head must have hurt her entrance. I felt sorry for her and stopped pushing. Even though I stopped, the giant meat bun, with its opening, wouldn't give up. It continued to contract violently, forcing me tightly against the entrance. If I stopped pushing, I would suffocate at the entrance. Instinct made me ram against the opening again. I didn't care about anything else; I had to get out, I had to crawl out

of the opening. My head finally pushed open the opening, and a terrifying light made me afraid to open my eyes. Around the owner of the fleshy cave, many things that looked similar to me had gathered. Several of them held my head down, trying to pull me out of the opening.

"Wah--," I finally crawled out of the opening, covered in blood. But, unfortunately, I didn't feel excited about getting out of the opening. On the contrary, I was filled with regret: No, no, this world is no good! I felt an unbearable cold and the blinding light. No, no, this place is no fun. It's much better inside the big fleshy bun deep inside the opening! Thinking of this, I cried out in regret:

"Wah--, wah--, wah, ……, ……," I felt extremely regretful. I hoped to go back to the opening and continue living a carefree life. But, to my despair, I heard a snap, and something mercilessly cut off the fleshy band around my abdomen. It's over, it's over, it's completely over. I'm completely cut off from the big meat bun and the cave entrance. This world is terrible, I hate this world. This world is not only cold, but also brings an even more terrifying hunger. Thinking of this, I cried out in even greater regret: "Waaah--, waaah--, waaah…,…" Several heartless things, like a swarm of demons, circled around me, wiping away the blood and grime. I'm sure they were preparing to clean me up and then eat me. And indeed, after cleaning me, they threw me onto a scale with a thud, weighing me to make it easier to divide the spoils. My fear grew, and my cries grew louder:

"Waaah--, waaah--, waaah, ……, ……," Suddenly, I heard the incredibly familiar call of the owner of the flesh cave. The things that were mercilessly torturing me immediately stopped. They hugged me and walked over to the owner of the flesh cave, laughing. The owner of the flesh cave, ignoring the intense pain, snatched me away and held me tightly against his sweat-drenched chest and abdomen. In the owner of the flesh cave's embrace, I felt an unprecedented sense of security, and my cries gradually subsided. I thrashed aimlessly in the owner of the flesh cave's chest. Suddenly, my wide-open mouth touched something strange: soft, smooth, and delicate. I felt an overwhelming sense of novelty and pressed my mouth against it, nibbling at it haphazardly. Seeing this, the owner of the flesh cave immediately pressed down on that novel thing and stuffed a cute little ball of flesh into my mouth. I caught it in my mouth. Hunger made me instinctively suckle, and instantly, a stream of sweet liquid gushed from the little fleshy ball, generously nourishing my mouth. I swallowed it in large gulps, the more liquid I sucked, the more I couldn't swallow, and I choked, coughing and gagging... "Hey, hey, Xiaoli," someone pushed me hard. I opened my dazed eyes, ah, it was Mom, it was Mom. She sat on the edge of the bed with a stern face, her beautiful eyes fixed on my palm. So, I turned my head and looked at my palm too. What I saw terrified me.

...Chapter Four. In my hand lay a condom I'd stolen from my mother's small drawer. My fingers were deeply embedded in it, the tip pressing against the small pouch meant to hold semen. My mother reached out and coldly snatched it away:

"You bastard, where did you get this? Tell me!"

"I, I," I stammered, unsure how to answer. Under my mother's persistent questioning, I lied:

"A classmate gave it to me!"

"No, you're lying!" My mother grabbed my ear:

"You stole it! You think I don't know? You're trying to fool me. I keep track of these in my drawer. I was wondering why one was missing, you scoundrel! And another one," my mother yanked me out of bed:

"Come here! Is this what you did?"

She flung open the bathroom door, pointing at the small hole and yelling:

"Did you pry this out?"

"No, no,"

"You bastard, lying again!" Mom dragged me to the doorframe of her bedroom again, and kicked the half-brick down with her foot:

"You did this too, didn't you? Huh?"

"No, no," I said in utter despair, making futile attempts to explain myself. Mom shoved me against the wall and then reached out and slapped my mouth hard.

"Slap--, slap--, slap--..."

My mother's hand flew up and down, the crisp sound of slaps raining down on my cheeks, while her other hand mercilessly twisted my ear:

"I'll beat you to death, I'll beat you to death, you little rascal, you little hooligan, you're so young and you want to know everything, you dare to rummage through everything, you dare to take anything, and you even dare to, dare to..." As my mother spoke, her beautiful face suddenly turned red, she couldn't continue. Yes, how could she say such a thing? My mother just kept repeating one sentence:

"I'll beat you to death, I'll beat you to death..."

My mother was really angry, her face flushed red, she was breathing heavily. My father had already gone to work, and my sister looked at the scene in front of her with a confused expression. As my mother continued to hit me, a string of tears suddenly rolled down her cheeks:

"Get out, get out," my mother pushed me out the door, and then threw out a pile of messy clothes:

"Get out, get out! I don't want you, you good-for-nothing! Oh--, oh--, oh--, you little rascal, you little brat, ..., oh oh oh!"

"Waaah--, waaah--,"

I hastily put on my clothes, then pounded on the door, sobbing:

"Mommy, Mommy, I was wrong, I was wrong, I'll change, I'll change, I promise I'll change!"

But no matter how much I pounded until my hands ached, Mommy wouldn't open the door. As I pounded, I suddenly heard Mommy sobbing even more intensely, and I felt incredibly remorseful. My despicable actions had deeply hurt Mommy, and I was extremely ashamed. I couldn't face my dear mother anymore. I wiped away my tears, bit my fingertips, and dejectedly went downstairs.

"Xiao Li, come play!"

"Great writer, come on, play the zither for a bit!"

My friends playing downstairs called out to me, but I ignored them and walked straight out of the yard. "Whoosh--," a tram came along in the middle of the road, groaning weakly, and listlessly drove away into the distance. I followed behind the tram, wandering aimlessly along the empty street in the howling wind. The fierce spring wind dried the tears on my face, leaving a tight, stinging mark, and my eyes were sore and swollen from crying.

I don't know how long I walked or how many miles I went, but suddenly, inexplicably, there was a commotion ahead. I looked up with my red eyes and, without realizing it, I had arrived at the bustling train station.

This is a colossal train station, a massive transportation hub. Trains traveling north and south, east and west, arrive every ten minutes or so, billowing acrid white smoke and whistling through the air, followed by a tidal wave of people, like a burst dam rushing into the city's streets and alleys. Around the spacious station square, a dense array of bizarrely shaped buildings stand side by side. Initially, this train station was under the control of Tsarist Russia, and the old Tsar's henchmen erected Russian-style buildings with ridiculous onion domes around the square. After the Russo-Japanese War, the victorious Japanese became the masters of the station, and thus, they filled in every available space around the square with Japanese-style buildings that blended European influences. After the Japanese were driven out, the new regime built even more rigid, crudely designed buildings resembling building blocks on the remaining empty space of the square. As a result, the entire station has become a hodgepodge, a bizarre, incongruous monster, a monstrous hybrid.

After the Japanese took over the train station, they decisively abandoned the dilapidated old ticket office from the Russian occupation era. As a show of victory, the Japanese built a new ticket office next to the old one, and the old one was forgotten, hidden away in obscurity. After the Japanese left, the abandoned ticket office gradually became a paradise for homeless people. These happy vagrants, carrying their dirty luggage, would flock there, spread their tattered belongings on the ground, and claim their territory.

To the east of the old ticket office, there was a busy intersection with heavy traffic and crowds. I crossed the intersection, heading towards the old ticket office that was right in front of me. Suddenly, a short, withered little girl caught my attention. She was clutching a few coins in her hand, barefoot, wandering around the intersection. As soon as the red light came on, she would quietly slip to the stopped cars and stick her dirty little hand into the window to ask the irritable drivers for small change.

"Go away, go away, go away..."

"Get lost, get lost, get lost..."

"I don't have any change for you! You little brat!"

"You're so young and already out here causing trouble, you'll get hurt by bad guys sooner or later!"

"..."

I stared blankly at the little girl. She noticed me staring at her for a long time, so she glared at me unfriendly. When the green light came on, she cleverly hid in the crowd on the sidewalk. Feeling awkward, I silently walked to the big, dilapidated building of the old ticket office. Looking at the groups of lazy homeless people lying or sitting along the wall, I felt a pang of envy for some reason: Ah, they're so carefree, so relaxed. They don't have to study or work. They just lie on the road all day sunbathing, and when they're hungry, they rummage through trash cans or sneak into restaurants to pick up leftovers from tourists.

"Where are you from?!" I approached a homeless man and asked timidly in a low voice,

"Uncle, where are you from?"

"Hmph," the homeless man impatiently rolled over, his body reeking of stench, and then tugged at his constantly slipping pants:

"Hmph, the toilet!"

"The toilet?" I asked again, puzzled.

"What, the toilet!"

"Yeah, the toilet, get lost, kid, don't bother me, I'm not awake yet!"

I dared not say another word, biting my fingertips as I continued to walk aimlessly forward. Whoosh—a strange gust of wind blew from the roadside, drawing ridiculous circles, swirling scraps of paper and yellow sand, and lunged at me with ill intent. I dodged it with remarkable agility.

"Oh no!" A hoarse voice came from behind me. I turned around and saw a man in tattered clothes, paralyzed from the waist down, anxiously shouting:

"Oh no! Oh no! My hat has been blown away! Quick, quick, help me get my hat back! Hurry!"

No one paid him any attention; everyone was hurrying on their way. A homeless child, his face smeared with snot and busy begging for small change, grinned smugly at the disabled man:

"Hehe, serves him right!"

I looked up and saw a tattered hat, stained with grease, pitifully tumbling about in the strange, circling wind. I leaped forward and grabbed the hat. Wait, I noticed some coins inside, and several more scattered on the ground. I understood. I knelt down and carefully picked up the coins one by one, putting them back into the hat before sincerely returning it to the poor disabled man.

"Thank you, little brother!"

The disabled man happily took his tattered hat, then reached inside to count the coins. I said to him,

"Don't worry, big brother, you didn't lose a single penny. I got it all back for you!"

"Okay, okay, thank you!"

I quietly squatted down beside the disabled man. He turned his dusty, dirty face to look at me:

"Hmm, little brother, you've been crying. Why are your eyes red? What happened? Did someone bully you?"

I shook my head. I didn't dare tell him about the shameful thing I had done. The disabled man continued,

"Where are you from? Judging by your clothes, you don't look like someone from the entertainment industry!"

"No, big brother, I'm not a beggar!"

"Oh, if I'm not mistaken, you must have done something wrong and your mother beat you! Isn't that right?"

"Yes," I lowered my head in shame, scratching my face on the floor tiles. The disabled man said earnestly,

"Little brother, go home quickly. The train station is very chaotic. You're so young, running around here will only lead you astray!"

"Thank you for your advice, big brother!"

But I didn't dare go home. My mother was still angry with me; she wouldn't open the door for me. She definitely didn't want me anymore. I stood up, left the disabled man begging for money, and secretly slipped into the chaotic lobby of the old ticket office. Then, I tiptoed up the dusty windowsill. Through the broken window frame, I climbed onto the platform. I wandered around the platform. Whoosh—a piercing train whistle sounded behind me, and then a train rushed past me with overwhelming force, the powerful blast almost knocking me to the ground. Fear made me turn and run back to the old ticket office. With nowhere to go, I sat on a sleeper in the corner, lost in thought for a long time. I thought of my mother, my mother, I kept repeating in my heart: "Mother, mother, forgive me! I was wrong! I will never do that shameful thing again! Mother, mother, forgive me! I will definitely change my ways, start anew, study hard, and improve every day." Mom, Mom... thinking about it, I drifted off to sleep!

"Get up!" Something hard pressed against my chest. I opened my eyes and saw a railway worker in uniform standing in front of me, holding a large pair of pliers and looking cold. The hard thing was his large foot in his work shoes.

"Get up, get out! What kind of hooligan are you?!"

"Uncle," I stood up and protested,

"I'm not a hooligan, uncle, I'm not a hooligan!"

"Go away, go away, go away," the railway worker said irritably, shooing me out of the old ticket office.

"You little brat, this isn't a place for you to sleep in. This is a workshop, you know? Look around, there's metal everywhere. What if it hits you? Are you fucking tired of living?"

When the railway worker ruthlessly kicked me out of the old ticket office, I realized it was already dark, and my stomach was growling. But I didn't have a penny in my pocket. What should I do? Should I sneak into the restaurant or eat leftovers like those homeless people? No, I can't do that!

I shivered in the cold wind, enduring my hunger. In the darkness, I saw the disabled man begging for small change, carrying a tattered military backpack, struggling to crawl into a public toilet. I quickly ran behind him. The disabled man didn't notice me and continued crawling into the stinking toilet. The concrete floor was covered in filth and urine, but the disabled man didn't seem to care. His two gloved hands supported his upper body as he moved inch by inch across the concrete floor.

"Big brother," I cried out,

"It's so dirty!"

With that, I don't know where the strength came from, I grabbed the disabled person and, gritting my teeth, lifted them onto the squatting platform in a few strides. The disabled person smiled kindly at me in the darkness:

"Thank you, little brother. What, you haven't gone home yet?"

After the disabled person finished relieving themselves, I used all my strength to carry them out of the hellish toilet. We sat side by side on the roadside. I was panting heavily. The disabled person took out a few coins:

"You haven't eaten yet, have you? Here, buy some steamed buns to tide you over!"

I took the coins without hesitation and ran quickly into a restaurant. I bought two steamed buns and handed one to the disabled person. They waved their hand:

"I've already eaten!"

Another gust of cold wind swept over me, and I couldn't help but shiver. Seeing this, the disabled person chuckled:

"Cold, aren't you? After you finish eating, I'll find you a hotel!"

Hehehe, a hotel! I could hardly believe my ears. With his clothes and those pitiful few coins in his hat, how could he possibly afford a hotel?

"Alright, it's getting late, let's go back to the hotel and sleep!"

With that, the disabled man tugged at his military backpack, then wobbled across the road, supporting himself on his hands. I followed closely behind. The disabled man confidently raised his chin and said to the other side of the road,

"Look, that's the high-class hotel with the Japanese-style architecture. Pretty good, right?"

"Ah," I looked up, staring blankly at the high-class hotel: Could it be that we really could stay in that renowned, nearly century-old hotel? Chapter Five: After crossing the road, the disabled man continued crawling along the back wall of the luxury hotel. The hotel's back wall was adjacent to a pedestrian walkway. Between the walkway and the hotel's back wall was a narrow, slightly elevated concrete slab, neatly arranged, with occasional holes scattered with coal dust. At one of these holes, the disabled man scrambled up with a thud and winked at me:

"Little brother, we're here! Our hotel's here! Go in!"

What?! Hearing this, I stared blankly at the dark concrete hole, unsure what to say: What kind of luxury hotel is this? The disabled man, however, seemed unfazed. He reached both hands into the hole in the concrete slab and, with a breathtaking movement, slipped inside. I stood on the concrete slab, peering nervously inside. It was pitch black; apart from the pungent smell of coal dust, I couldn't see anything.

"Come down!"

came the disabled man's urging voice from the darkness. I still hesitated, unwilling to jump. Suddenly, a glimmer of light flashed before my eyes. It turned out the disabled man had turned on a flashlight. Heh, this guy has quite a few gadgets. With this pitiful glimmer of light, I finally mustered the courage to jump. Thud! My body landed heavily on the coal pile. I cried out, "Ouch!" and was about to stand up when someone shoved me.

"Damn it, who is it, jumping around like that? You almost killed me!" A homeless man lying on the coal pile, rubbing his thigh, cursed at me.

"Are you blind? You wanted to kill me?!"

"Never mind, never mind!" the disabled man said with a forced smile to the homeless man.

“He’s too young. It’s his first time at our hotel, so it’s understandable that he might be a little disoriented and not see the way clearly. Please forgive him and don’t take it personally!” After saying that, the disabled man waved to me with the hand holding the flashlight:

“Little brother, come here, come this way.” Then, the disabled man held the flashlight in one hand and crawled forward with the other:

“Come on, follow me! Our room is at the very back, it’s a high-class room!”

I followed behind the disabled man, and guided by the flashlight, I slowly walked towards the depths of the coal pile. It turned out that this was where the high-class hotel stored its coal. At the very bottom of the coal pile, in the upper room where the disabled man lived, separated by thick walls, was the humming boiler room. Right next to the boiler room, against the brick wall, lay a filthy blanket. Seeing the flashlight beam, a disheveled middle-aged man peeked out from under the blanket:

"Oh, Old Cripple's back," the middle-aged man said, noticing me standing blankly at the top of the coal pile.

"Heh heh, Old Cripple's doing pretty well, huh? Taking on an apprentice?"

"Go to hell! This young man isn't one of us. I'm not qualified to be his master. He has some issues today and can't go home, so he'll have to make do with the night at my hotel. Go, go, get up, make room for the good man!" The disabled man shoved the middle-aged man:

"Get out here, it's my turn to rest!"

"Old Cripple, how's business today? Did you make a fortune?"

"Sigh," the disabled man sighed.

"Screw it! Getting rich? I've been out all day in this freezing wind, from morning till night, and haven't even managed to beg for a bowl of wine. Sigh, life's getting harder and harder!"

"Forget it, these days, if you want to drink, you're lucky if you can even get a little change to eat a steamed bun. We're all poor!" The middle-aged man started getting dressed:

"It's getting late, I have to go to work!"

"Damn it," the disabled man warned,

"Be careful, things are getting tense lately. Don't mess things up and get thrown into big cities by the government!"

"Hmph," the middle-aged man said dismissively,

"Don't worry, I'm lucky, I've never failed since I started!"

"Damn it," the disabled man cursed,

"I bet you're just waiting to get away with this!" Watching the middle-aged man grumble as he climbed over the coal pile, the disabled man waved to me:

"Young man, come down," he pointed to the dirty quilt and said,

"Come on, sleep here!"

“No,” I swore, I’d rather freeze to death than crawl into that bed. I shook my head at the disabled man, then slid down the coal pile with a whoosh. In the beam of my flashlight, I spotted a large, tightly closed iron door. I walked over and leaned against it:

“Big brother, I’ll sleep here!”

“Okay,” the disabled man said,

“That’s fine too. It’s close to the boiler, so it’s warm and not cold. I have a blanket here, but it’s too dirty. I’m really embarrassed to let you sleep in such a dirty place!”

I leaned against the crack in the iron door, warm air constantly flowing in from behind me. The disabled man turned off the flashlight:

“Alright, you can turn off the light now. It’s getting late, go to sleep!”

The coal storage room suddenly became terrifyingly dark. I leaned against the iron door, my mind racing: Now it’s all good. I don’t need to wash my face or feet anymore, there’s no need to brush my teeth, I don’t even need to take off my clothes. I can just lean against the iron door, hug my legs, rest my head on my knees, and go to sleep! But how could I sleep? I missed my mother! Oh, you, you! It's all your fault for hurting my mother, for now, that I can't go home. Oh, my mother will never love me again. Mother, mother, I miss you, mother, I miss you so much!

In the pitch-black coal mine, my mother's beautiful, dignified, yet stern and cold face floated into my hazy mind; her large, round, warm breasts; her plump, slender, white hands. My mother wiped my bottom, fastened my belt, washed my face, taught me to brush my teeth, washed my little penis, let me touch her soft breasts… Mother—, Mother—… A string of bitter tears welled up in my eyes, slowly flowing down my cheeks and into my collar. I wiped away the salty tears, repeatedly calling out "Mother, Mother" in my heart, and finally, in endless regret, I gradually drifted off to sleep.

"Thump," I was sound asleep when suddenly, without warning, I fell into a brightly lit corridor. A boiler operator, carrying a shovel, cursed irritably,

"Damn it, where did this little vagrant come from!" He then ignored me and began loading coal into a small cart. It turned out that because I was sleeping near the door, I inevitably fell into the boiler room in the basement when the boiler operator opened the door to load coal. I rubbed my eyes, stood up with a thud, and climbed back onto the coal pile after the boiler operator pushed the coal cart away. However, the large iron door never closed again, and every ten minutes or so, the boiler operator would come and take away a cartload of coal. I could no longer sleep against the iron door, and besides, my sleepiness had long since vanished. With nothing else to do, I climbed over the coal pile, intending to approach the disabled person's area. Suddenly, a groan came from beneath the coal pile, strikingly similar to the sound a mother makes when her father is pinned down. I was utterly puzzled. How could these homeless people, barely scraping by in this hellish coal mine, have the leisure to do such a thing?

I peered down from the coal pile, using the light from the large iron gate. Oh, it was a disabled man, wrapped in a dirty blanket, with the little girl who had stood at the intersection during the day begging for change from drivers waiting at the red light pinned beneath him. It was truly unimaginable that a disabled person who couldn't even walk properly could do such a thing so freely. Look, his strong, powerful arms supported his entire body, and with each twist of his body, his severely atrophied, noodle-like lower limbs swayed back and forth like a juggling act. Although his lower limbs were paralyzed, his penis was surprisingly thick and long, powerfully thrusting into the emaciated little girl.

I was engrossed in watching when I heard footsteps coming from the large iron gate. The boiler operator with the cart was back, rubbing the coal dust with a cracking sound. My feet gradually felt loose, and to avoid falling back into the corridor, I desperately tried to climb up. Suddenly, the coal dust beneath me shifted violently, and I slipped, sliding down the coal pile with a whoosh, crashing headfirst into the two disabled men and the little girl who were doing *that*. The impact stunned the disabled man, and the little girl scrambled out from under him with a whoosh, frantically grabbing her trousers—a pair of tattered trousers patched upon patched.

“Big brother,” I was momentarily at a loss for what to do, then suddenly warned,

“There are people over there, loading coal!”

“Hey,” the disabled man said with a wry smile, still feeling unsatisfied,

“Little brother, you ruined my plans. Hey, who cares? These days, who cares about anyone!” Finally, he confidently explained,

“It’s alright, the boiler operator can’t see or hear anything across this coal mountain!” Then, the disabled man pointed to the little girl sitting blankly on the coal pile and said to me,

“Little brother, how about it, any ideas?”

“Oh, no, no!” I quickly waved my hands. Although I had a strong interest in women, I didn’t have the courage to do *that* with a woman. In my class, some precocious boys had done *that* with girls; those boys would pay the girls three cents for it, which the classmates jokingly called: “Three cents a goo!”

"Hehe," the disabled man chuckled,

"Little brother, you're still too young, you can't do it, can you?"

"Yes, big brother, I can't!"

The little girl hurriedly put on her clothes, gave me a deep look with her cold eyes, then got up and disappeared into the darkness in the blink of an eye.

With a bang, the large iron gate finally slammed shut, plunging the coal storage into darkness once more. "Hahaha!" Hearing the gate close, the disabled man burst into laughter:

"Little brother, what's there to be afraid of? It's like eating; any man can do it!"

"I dare not, big brother!"

Thump, thump, thump—the sound of footsteps echoed from the concrete slab at the top of the coal storage. I looked up, and a faint blue light shone through the cracks in the concrete slab—dawn had broken!

The disabled man crawled back into bed, while I leaned against the wall, lost in thought. Gazing at the light filtering through the cracks in the concrete slab, I wondered how my mother would have spent the night. She must not have slept a wink, and right now she and my father were searching for me all over the streets. I should go home to avoid worrying my mother and father. Just as I was about to stand up and try to climb out of the coal storage, another thought suddenly struck me: No, I had gone too far. I had spied on my mother taking a bath, spied on my mother and father doing *that*, spied on my mother's books, and stolen my mother's condoms. My mistake was unforgivable. I offended my mother, and this wasn't just a minor offense; it was an assault on her body. No, I couldn't go back. How could I face my mother?

My body went limp, and I collapsed back onto the coal pile with a thud. My head was a complete mess. I wanted to go home, but I was too afraid to go home. I missed my mother, but I couldn't face her. Oh, what should I do? I was so worried. I thought and thought, but the more I thought, the less I knew what to do. The more I thought, the less I knew what to do, and the more my head ached, until it felt like it was going to explode. The sky gradually brightened, but my body began to feel cold, shivering uncontrollably. I suddenly felt completely powerless and collapsed onto the coal pile involuntarily. I was so tired; I no longer cared about the filth and pungent smell of the coal. Lying down felt so good, so comfortable!

"Mom," I called out involuntarily, gazing at the light filtering through the cracks in the concrete slabs,

"Mom, Mom..."

Sigh, I continued, thinking: perhaps this is my fate, I should end up in such a miserable state, living among the homeless, spending unforgettable dark nights in the coal mine.

"Young man," the disabled man, already dressed and carrying his military backpack, said,

"Let's go, it's dawn, we should have breakfast!"

"I'm cold!" I didn't have the strength to sit up.

"I'm cold, I'm cold!"

"What's wrong?" the disabled man grabbed my arm.

"Get up quickly, if you haven't had enough of the hotel, we'll come back tonight!" Suddenly, the disabled man exclaimed,

"Oh dear, why are you so hot? You have a fever! Oh no, young man, you've caught a cold!"

"I'm cold, I'm cold!" I mumbled groggily. The disabled man muttered helplessly.

“You’re a decent kid, too naive. You’re sick after just one night. Fine, you wait, I’ll call the police to take you home. Otherwise, you’ll die, and your mother won’t have your precious son anymore!”

The disabled man kept his word and actually called the police for me. I tearfully told the police my mother and father’s workplaces, and soon my father’s workplace sent a car to pick me up from the hotel’s coal storage and take me to the hospital. When my mother arrived and pushed open the hospital door, my heart trembled violently, and then my vision blurred. I remember nothing after that. Chapter Six "Xiao Li, Xiao Li!" Mom shook me desperately, large tears rolling down my face. I opened my eyes groggily, and Mom immediately reached out and touched my burning face with great sorrow:

"Son, Mom is bad, Mom is bad, it's all Mom's fault, Mom shouldn't have kicked you out of the house! Oh--, oh--, oh--," After saying that, Mom hugged me tightly and sobbed.

"Sigh," Dad paced back and forth in the hospital room, his hands behind his back.

"You, you!" Dad said coldly to Mom.

"You always treat the child like a little slave, always hitting or scolding him. Now look what happened, you beat the child out of the house, and then we had to search for him everywhere, spending the whole night running around. I'm so dizzy and confused, how am I going to draw at work today? Sigh, this little kid has been wandering the streets, spending the night at the train station with beggars and vagrants, and now he has a cold and a fever. I bet if he develops pneumonia, you'll be happy and satisfied!" "Oh--, oh--, oh--..." Mom cried silently. I was so puzzled. Dad, who usually doted on Mom and wouldn't even dare to breathe loudly in her presence, dared to lash out at her with a cold face today. Haha, it's like the sun has risen in the west, even a mouse dares to challenge a cat. It seems Dad doesn't know the truth yet. If he knew what I'd done, I'm sure he wouldn't protect me.

"Xiao Li," Mom stroked my forehead, then looked at my hand with the IV needle in it:

"Why hasn't your fever gone down yet!" "Mom—," in Mom's arms, I felt unprecedented happiness and warmth. Seeing Mom's pitiful, remorseful look, I immediately felt pity for her. I secretly looked at her, tears welling up in my eyes. Just as I was about to call out to Mom, suddenly, an unbearable pain shot through my throat. My mouth was full of saliva, but I dared not swallow:

"Mom, I, I, my throat hurts!" "Ah," Mom cried out in alarm:

"Let me see, is your tonsil inflamed again? Quick, open your mouth!" "Ah," I obediently opened my mouth, but my tonsils didn't show the terrible inflammation I usually get when I have a cold. My mother took me to the doctor to check my mouth, and it turned out that the back wall of my throat was full of polyps. This cold was the trigger; the polyps, attacked by germs, were causing trouble in my throat, making it so painful that I didn't even dare to swallow my saliva. For six or seven days in a row, I lay on the bed receiving injections while also lying on my pillow, with a spittoon under the bed. My saliva flowed slowly into the spittoon like a waterfall.

"Doctor," seeing my miserable state, my mother pleaded helplessly with the doctor,

"Doctor, my child is in so much pain! Please think of something, or he'll die from the pain!" "Sigh," the doctor waved his hand helplessly,

"Comrade, for polyps in the throat, the only option is electrocautery, which is extremely painful. Even adults can't bear it, let alone a child. I dare not perform electrocautery on him casually, for fear of accidents!" "Xiao Li," my mother held my hand and asked earnestly,

"Son, the doctor said that the only way to stop the pain is to burn off the polyp with electricity. Are you afraid?" "Mom!" I said sincerely to my mother,

"I'm not afraid, Mom, but, Mom, can you forgive me?" "What?" My words surprised my mother greatly,

"What did you say, child! What did you say?" "Mom, it's about the time I stole your things. Can you forgive me?" "Oh," my mother said dismissively.

"Forget it, forget it, son. After scolding and hitting me, I didn't even think about it. Don't mention it, it just makes me upset!" "Mom, can you forgive me?" I continued to ask.

"Okay," Mom gave me a big kiss:

"Good, son, Mom forgives you. Son, electric shocks hurt a lot, are you brave enough?" "Mom, I'm brave, I'm not afraid!" "Really not afraid?" "Not afraid," I didn't know how painful electric shocks were. My thoughts were surprisingly simple. Since Mom had forgiven my mistake, I wanted to show myself in front of her, to redeem my bad image as a little hooligan, and to rebuild my heroic image as a great man. So, I said firmly:

"Mom, a Communist Party member isn't afraid of death, so why would I be afraid of pain?" "Hehe," Mom laughed through her tears. She reached out and gently pinched me:

"You little rascal!" Mom smiled at me again, which made me feel very gratified, and my confidence grew even stronger!

My mother persuaded the doctor to take me to the treatment room. The doctor, a stout man in his fifties, patted my head and said earnestly,

"Child, you'd better be prepared, electrocautery will hurt a lot!" "Yes," I nodded.

"Son," my mother encouraged me from the side,

"Son, quick, recite Chairman Mao's quote: 'Fear neither hardship nor death, overcome all difficulties, and strive for victory!'" "Yes, Mom!" I mechanically recited,

"Fear neither hardship nor death, overcome all difficulties, and strive for victory!" Suddenly, a large iron instrument shaped exactly like a pistol was placed in front of me by the doctor. I was immediately terrified, and my mouth, still numbed by anesthetic, trembled instinctively:

"Ugh, ugh, ugh," I was so surprised that I didn't know what to say. At the tip of the large pistol was a long, drill-like iron needle, gleaming with a chilling light. The doctor plugged the large pistol into a power source and then walked up to me:

"Child, open your mouth, ah--," "Ah--, ah--..." The large iron needle slowly probed into my throat. The doctor mercilessly pulled the trigger. Sizzle--, oh my god, the large iron needle flashed a terrifying white light, sizzling as it burned the tender flesh inside my mouth, producing an indescribable pain. I screamed "Ah--" and reached out to push the large pistol out of my mouth:

"Ah, it hurts, it hurts so much!" "Sigh," the doctor put down the large pistol:

"How is it? Does it hurt? If it's too much, then stop!" "No," I wiped away my tears:

"I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid. Chairman Mao taught us: 'Fear neither hardship nor death, overcome all difficulties and strive for victory!'" "Good child," my mother hugged me lovingly:

"Good child, bear with it a little longer, just a little longer, and we'll burn all the polyps off, then your throat will never hurt again!" "Sizzle--, sizzle--, sizzle--,..." Encouraged by my mother, I endured the unbearable pain like a revolutionary martyr who refused to yield, letting the large, fiery pistol burn my mouth:

"Mom," I said to her through a grimace,

"Mom, I smell something burning!" "Yes," my mother nodded, tears welling in her eyes:

"Poor child, how did you get such a strange disease? It's all my fault for driving you out of the house, alas," "This is considered mild," the doctor said slowly and deliberately as he continued to torture me:

"It's only been a short time! For those with severe polyps, it sizzles and hisses when it's being burned, the smell is like burning a housebird!" The pain of electrocautery in the mouth is prolonged. Back in the ward, I was in so much pain I dared not drink water, let alone breathe heavily, and I couldn't sleep. This continued for a week; the experience was worse than death.

To regain my mother's favor, I endured this torture-like treatment, undergoing electrocautery three times intermittently until the polyp was completely removed. I want to thank my mother; it was her encouragement that helped me cure the polyp. From then on, I never knew what a sore throat felt like again. As an adult, I gambled day and night, smoked one cigarette after another, downed large glasses of strong liquor, and ate spicy hot pot in the sweltering summer. But no matter what I did, my throat never hurt. When I see my friends struggling with sore throats, getting injections, taking medicine, and using all sorts of throat lozenges, I always scoff and say,

"Hmph, it's useless. All that medicine is a waste of time. If you want a complete cure, just be brave, try electrocautery!" Even though my mother says she's forgiven me and has regained her affection for me, perhaps this is just wishful thinking to comfort myself. But I also have a strange feeling that a distance has grown between me and my mother. Indeed, after careful observation, I feel that my mother always keeps a certain distance from me. She no longer plays with me as intimately as before, washing my face, wiping my bottom, let alone washing my penis. Furthermore, my mother no longer lifts her clothes to let me touch her breasts. Everything my mother did for me in the past has become an irretrievable past, forever sealed in my beautiful childhood memories. This makes me extremely distressed, more painful than being slapped by my mother.

What infuriated me even more was that my mother hired a carpenter to repair the partition between the toilet and the shower room with thick wooden planks. Then, she found blueprints and completely covered up the glass window on her bedroom door. I firmly believe that what my mother did was a tremendous insult to my character.

Humph, my mother doesn't trust me! She treats me like a thief, always on guard. Once a thief, always a thief! Since that's the case, how can I still have the face to stay at home? I'm leaving, I'm going to leave again. I'm not going to study anymore, I'm going to wander, I'm going to go out into life, into society.

"Sun Xun," I said, having made up my mind, and approached my good friend Sun Xun:

"Want to go out and explore?" "Where? Where to?" "Dalian," "What? That's too far! We don't have any money, how are we going to get there?" "Bike!" "Wow, that sounds so exciting!" Sun Xun was incredibly excited. Having been like a caged bird for years, Sun Xun was filled with boundless longing and curiosity for the outside world. He patted his chest enthusiastically:

"Bike to Dalian! It'll be so much fun! Let's go, let's go!" We secretly devised a travel plan, codenamed "The Trip to Dalian." Sun Xun and I were going to ride our bikes to the coastal city of Dalian. We wanted to see the real sea, the real harbor, and the real warships.

To realize this exciting dream, Sun Xun and I always used various excuses to ask our parents for pocket money. When we had saved up more than thirty yuan, we felt we had the financial foundation for the trip, and our courage grew. On a bright and sunny morning, we used all our sweet talk to trick our fathers into giving us their bicycles. Then we each wrote a letter and placed it on our desks, telling our parents: We're going to Dalian for a trip, and we've already set off. Please don't worry, Mom and Dad, we'll be safe and sound, and we'll definitely be back on time!

After putting my letter on my desk, I felt there were some things I should say to my mother alone. So I picked up a piece of paper and started writing:

Dear Mom:

I'm about to leave my warm and comfortable home and go far away. Before leaving, I have so many things I want to say, but when I pick up the pen, my mind is in turmoil. Even with a thousand words, I don't know where to begin. I've thought for a long, long time. Mom, there's so much I want to say to you, but I'll tell you slowly later. Mom, before I leave, I only want to ask you one thing: Mom, have you really forgiven me?

Mom, you know I made a big fool of myself while writing. Weren't you standing behind me, secretly laughing at me? Mom, I saw you laughing at me. I wonder if you remember. To make up for my lack of knowledge, I resorted to improper methods. I secretly looked at your books, books a child my age shouldn't have seen. Even worse, I peeked at you taking a bath, and… Every time I think back, I'm filled with remorse and shame. Mom, I beg you again and again, hoping you can forgive me! And you have clearly stated that you forgive me!

However, all signs indicate that you haven't truly forgiven me. Not only that, you are full of suspicion towards me, your son, always on guard against me, treating me like a thief. Mom, the things you did after I came home deeply hurt my self-esteem. Alas, I brought this upon

myself. My wrong and foolish actions have made me completely lose my dignity in front of you, and at the same time, I have forever lost your mother's love. I have no face to stay at home anymore, I have no courage to face you again. Therefore, Mom, your son will go far away and make his home wherever he is. I want to learn from the great writer Maxim Gorky. Gorky wandered all of Russia, and I will travel all over China.

Goodbye, Mom, farewell with tears in my eyes! Chapter Seven "Hey, what are you dawdling for?" Sun Xun impatiently urged me, pushing his bicycle. I carefully folded the manuscript and slipped it into my mother's small drawer through the gap:

"Coming, coming, almost here!" "Let's go!" Seeing that the manuscript had indeed slid into the small drawer, I stood up with relief and waved to Sun Xun:

"Hey buddy, make way!" "Make way!" Sun Xun and I, like a pair of swallows escaping their cage, hummed songs and galloped out of the city, onto a tree-lined highway, speeding south along the seemingly endless road. The towering birch trees on both sides of the road rustled like a cheerful march, while birds overhead sang a farewell song. Buzzing red dragonflies cast envious glances, and colorful butterflies fluttered around us, seemingly reluctant to leave, as if they too wanted to join us on our journey to distant Dalian. Sun Xun and I pedaled, glancing at each other, sticking out our tongues, making faces, then sharing knowing smiles, before gathering our strength and racing off into the distance!

"Dude," Sun Xun asked me while pedaling his bicycle furiously,

"Xiao Li, aren't you scared?" "Scared? Scared of what? What's so scary?" "Aren't you afraid your mom will beat you?" "No, I've already decided to go for it!" "Also, Xiao Li, although we have money, we don't have a letter of introduction, so hotels won't let us stay!" "Then, we'll sleep on the streets. I like it that way. I like the life of a vagrant. I want to live the hard life of a homeless child like Gorky!" "Hehe," Sun Xun said,

"You're so romantic!" "Sun Xun," I asked seriously,

"Are there passenger ships in Dalian?" "Of course, of course!" "Then, can I board a passenger ship in Dalian?" "If you have money, of course you can. Hey, why do you want to board a passenger ship? Do you want to go to Shanghai? That's my hometown!" "I'm not going to Shanghai. I want to wash dishes on the passenger ship, earn money, and support myself, just like Gorky!" "Hehe, I say, why do you want to learn everything from Gorky?" "Sigh, what can I do? He's my idol!" We chatted as we rode tirelessly until the bright red sun gradually disappeared below the horizon, and the night mercilessly enveloped the boundless earth. Only then did we feel tired and hungry. So, we found a relatively satisfactory place to stop. We spread out the towels we brought in the shade of the trees by the roadside, chewing on the bread we had prepared and drinking the cool boiled water from our military canteens, while tightly wrapping our bodies in the towels to prevent mosquito bites.

"Coo--, coo--, coo--,..." "Croak--, croak--, croak--,..." In the darkness, frogs in the roadside pond chatted leisurely with their lovers, whispering sweet nothings.

"Squeak--, squeak--, squeak--,..." "Chirp--, chirp--, chirp--,..." Cicadas, hidden in the grass, chirped crisply, breaking the silence of the night sky and echoing rhythmically across the quiet fields. Sun Xun beside me was already fast asleep, while I, preoccupied, couldn't fall asleep. I quietly peeked my head out from under the blanket, gazing at the star-studded night sky and the bright crescent moon, and suddenly felt a pang of regret. Mom, I've gotten you into trouble again. Mom, if I'm not mistaken, you'll be frantic with worry when you see the letter about me running away from home. Right now, I'm sleeping in the middle of nowhere, and you and Dad must be anxiously searching for us. Mom, your disobedient son has caused you trouble!

Sigh, I muttered to myself: What will Mom think when she sees that letter in the little drawer? Will she blame me for being too much of a bully and pushing my luck? As I thought about it, I couldn't resist the drowsiness and fell asleep without realizing it.

"Cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo..." The rooster's crowing startled Sun Xun and me from our sweet dreams. We crawled out of our blankets, hastily wiped our faces in a nearby ditch, and prepared to continue. A few early-rising farmers in the distance stared at us with strange looks. As they approached, an older man asked,

"Children, what are you doing? Why are you sleeping in the fields?" "Uncle," I replied excitedly,

"We're going on a trip!" "A trip? Where are you going?" "Dalian!" "Whoa!" All the farmers carrying hoes roared in disbelief:

"Nonsense! --" "Dalian is over a thousand miles away. You want to ride bicycles there? That's ridiculous!" "Hmph," Sun Xun retorted indignantly.

"Don't believe me? We have to ride to the end! Xiao Li, get on the bike, let's go!" Shaking off the farmers who were mocking us, we rode for a while longer. Our stomachs were growling with hunger, so we had to leave the highway and stop in a small town for breakfast. When we returned to the highway, we suddenly saw a large bus parked right in front of us. Sun Xun immediately cried out,

"Oh no! It must be Dad catching up! Xiao Li, look, that's our design institute's bus! This is bad!" Before Sun Xun could finish speaking, many people jumped off the bus, including my father and Sun Xun's father! My head went blank: Oh no, Dad's caught up!

"You little brat!" Sun Xun and I were staring blankly at the company bus from Dad's workplace when Dad, Uncle Sun, and several colleagues crowded around us. Dad walked to the front and, seeing me pushing my bicycle, immediately flew into a rage:

"You little brat, what kind of dream have you had this time? Absolutely delusional! Come home with me right now!" With that, Dad snatched the bicycle from my hand and handed it to one of the colleagues who had arrived shortly after. Sun Xun's bicycle was also confiscated by his father. We two, like captured prisoners of war, were grumbled by Dad, Uncle Sun, and the other uncles, and pushed and shoved by Dad and Uncle Sun, before dejectedly boarding the bus. Even as the bus slowly started moving, Dad's anger hadn't subsided.

"You little brat, this time your mother didn't scold or hit you, so why are you running away? Hmm, I'll deal with you when we get home. Look how worried your mother is, crying and shouting. I didn't sleep a wink all night. I ran to my workplace to borrow a bus to chase after you as soon as it was light. Sigh, you little brat, when will you ever grow up? Hmm, when will you stop making your mother and me worry? Your mother cried all night last night. Go home and see, her eyes are all swollen from crying. Sigh..." "Old Zhang," Dad's colleague advised,

"It's enough that the child knows he's wrong. Forget it, don't blame him!" "Hmph, damn it," Dad cursed, "

The director gave me a new assignment. I was supposed to go on official business this morning, but this kid messed up all my work!" "Xiao Li," as Dad shoved me through the door, Mom, her face streaked with tears, sat up abruptly in bed and hugged me tightly.

"Son, son, my precious son!" "Hmph," the still clueless father muttered from the side,

"Look how heartbroken your mother is, crying like that. Explain to her properly that she didn't hit you or scold you, so why did you run away from home?!" "Get out, get out, hurry up and get out! Stop dawdling, it's none of your business!" the mother said coldly to the father. The father stopped talking and started packing his things.

The mother stroked my body with great heartache:

"Oh dear, look, what happened? It must be mosquito bites!" I nestled blankly in my mother's arms, seeing her crying her eyes out, and felt deeply remorseful and saddened by my excessive behavior: as expected, my mother was frantic and terrified! I lowered my head in shame, and when my gaze inadvertently swept across the mother's blanket, I noticed several photos scattered on the top of the blanket. One of the photos showed my mother holding me tenderly, her shirt open, my little head buried deep in her chest, suckling earnestly at her long breast; another was the one I knew best—my 100-day anniversary photo.

"Son," my mother pressed her tear-streaked face against mine,

"You just left like that, without a care in the world. Can't you bear to leave your mother?" "I..." I was speechless, unsure how to answer.

"Son, I can't live without you. I'll have to rely on you to support me when I'm old, son," my mother said, her voice rising with emotion, tears streaming down her face. I blushed, unable to utter a word: Yes, I was so sorry, Mom. Why did I abandon her and go to such a faraway place?

"Son," as Dad sheepishly left the house with his luggage, Mom suddenly unbuttoned her shirt, revealing a pair of long-lost ample breasts:

"Son, want some?" Mom smiled slightly at me, pinching her long nipples. I didn't know what to do; my face flushed red and hot.

"Come here," Mom pressed my head against her warm belly. I trembled with excitement, feeling incredibly awkward. However, I didn't have the courage to break free from Mom's embrace. I knew in my heart that Mom was showing me that she still loved me as before, and I had no right to refuse her love; otherwise, Mom would be even more heartbroken.

"Eat, eat!" Mom kept stuffing her long nipples into my mouth. I had no choice but to open my mouth and bite down on Mom's long nipples, sucking haphazardly. 02-16 3.

The next day, Mom hired workers to remove all the large wooden planks in the toilet, replacing them with a fabric-textured glass partition that created a hazy atmosphere. While the workers were busy in the bathroom and toilet, my mother stood on a chair, carefully peeling off each sheet of paper that had just been pasted up. Seeing this, I was deeply moved, my heart filled with warmth.

What made me even happier was that a few days later, a large, color photograph, like an oil painting, suddenly appeared on the snow-white wall of my mother's bedroom. It was my 100-day celebration photo. My mother had taken it to a photo studio, enlarged it, added oil paint, and framed it beautifully. Looking at the large photo, my mother repeatedly murmured,

"Lili's 100-day celebration!" "Mom," I cried, throwing myself into her arms, tears of happiness streaming down my face.

"Son," after dinner, my mother, fresh from her bath and wearing a very sexy bathrobe, quietly stood behind me, carefully examining my homework:

"Hmm, not bad, but it would be even better if it were a little neater!" "Yes, Mom, I will definitely write well, I will definitely write neatly!" "Alright, son, it's getting late, it's time for bed, you can continue writing tomorrow!" "Okay," I obediently put down my pen, and just as I was about to return to my bed, my mother suddenly stopped me:

"Come on, go to Mom's room, sleep with Mom!" Ah, I was shocked. Ever since she caught me peeping at her while she was bathing, I had never shared a bed with her again, never admired her perfect, almost saintly body. Hearing my mother's words, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't even believe my ears: Was this real?

"Come on!" Mom urged. It seemed she was serious. So, I followed Mom into the dimly lit bedroom. As I took off my clothes and crawled into bed, Mom suddenly shook off her bathrobe. The sight of that magically revealed mound of white flesh made my heart race and my blood boil. What surprised me even more was that my almost naked mother was wearing a brownish-red, fishnet-like thong. Her freshly shaved, pale private parts were clearly visible through the mesh. I stared blankly, mouth agape. My mother chuckled at me:

"What's wrong? What are you spacing out for? You've already seen it." She then sat on the bed, crossing her long, slender legs:

"Son, you said in your letter that I was always wary of you, suspicious of you, and that I hurt your pride. From now on, son, I believe in you. You're not a bad child. I won't be wary of you anymore, and I won't avoid you!" As she spoke, she hugged me, placing my head on her smooth, white thighs. She pinched her long nipple again, saying seriously:

"Son, it's time to suckle!" This time, I eagerly took her nipple. This was my mother's best reward; why should I refuse? What was there to be ashamed of in front of my mother? Thinking this, I happily began to suckle, gently stroking her arm with one hand. My head, resting on her lap, inhaled the alluring fragrance; her slightly damp body, sprayed with a pungent perfume mixed with the captivating scent of a mature woman, made me feel intoxicated. As I suckled on her long nipple, inhaling her fragrance, suddenly, she reached out and pulled out my penis. She examined it closely:

"Son, you've grown again!" I released her nipple and turned to look at my penis, which she was holding. Yes, I really had grown again; my penis had undergone an unexpected change—a round, rosy glans peeking out from under the long foreskin.

"Son, you're a big boy now, you'll be going to middle school next semester!" Right, if my mother hadn't mentioned it, I would have completely forgotten. I finished elementary school in a daze, and in another month, I should be carrying my schoolbag to register for middle school! Chapter Eight. "Teacher Meng," after the new semester began, my mother sent me to a middle school. Holding my hand, she said to a female teacher of similar age,

"This is my son. Please discipline him strictly. If he disobeys you, give him a good beating!"

"Oh," Teacher Meng looked at me and suddenly gave me a charming smile, a smile that made my heart flutter.

"What a beautiful child! I can tell your mother is very responsible for you. Your grades must be excellent!"

"Yes," my vain mother said proudly,

"Teacher Meng, my son has been first in his class since first grade, and," she added proudly,

"he's been learning painting with me since he was little. After starting school, I sent him to the Children's Palace to continue his studies, and he's also learned calligraphy. The blackboards and bulletin boards in our school are all drawn by my son."

"Really? He has this talent? That's really something! Great! From now on, let him design the blackboard bulletin for our class!"

Mom chatted with Teacher Meng for a while longer before politely saying goodbye. I followed Teacher Meng into the classroom, feeling uneasy.

Teacher Meng, in her early thirties, was in the prime of her life. Although she wasn't as tall and slender as Mom, her skin was even smoother and whiter. Compared to Mom, Teacher Meng's chest was flatter, but her waist was quite narrow, making her rounded hips extremely large and eye-catching. What fascinated me most were Ms. Meng's long, slender legs. Summer vacation had just ended, and the heat hadn't completely dissipated. Ms. Meng wore a light blue long skirt, and when she sat in her office chair, she would habitually lift it, giving me the opportunity to peek at her legs. Sometimes I even caught a glimpse of her light pink underwear. Wow, those were such exciting moments! Ms. Meng's two long, white, slender legs, contrasting beautifully with her incredibly sexy pink underwear, made my blood boil.

In class, Ms. Meng treated me differently, appointing me as class monitor and helping her with many things, even having me grade the students' Chinese homework.

However, the extremely mischievous students in the class, who loved playing pranks, didn't care about me at all, even giving me cold, disdainful looks and mocking me as a "bookworm!" They weren't bookworms; their minds and energy weren't focused on their studies at all. As they grew older, the flames of youthful desire began to stir within them, like a sudden ignition of strong alcohol. The raging fire of lust burned them like a group of drunken madmen, unable to control themselves and doing many astonishing things.

"Ha," whenever Teacher Meng finished teaching and left the classroom, these little lechers would stare with lustful eyes, stick out their tongues, and whisper among themselves:

"Wow, did you see that? Our teacher's ass is so big!"

"Yeah, I think the teacher's pussy must be even bigger!"

"Right, and it even has black hair!"

"Hahaha..."

"..."

At times like these, I feel an intense loathing for these barbaric, unashamed, and primal people. I cannot bear to hear their utterly vulgar fantasies about the beautiful Ms. Meng. These male classmates not only fantasize about their teacher, but they also relentlessly pursue and harass the female students in our class. They somehow acquire all sorts of extremely obscene nude pictures, passing them around and admiring them repeatedly with relish. Some even dare to carve these obscene images onto the toilet doors with pencil sharpeners, adding lewd words next to them. If you squat down in the toilet, you'll be presented with a vividly illustrated erotic picture book. They also possess numerous tattered, yellowed, and rotten-smelling handwritten novels; the lewd words in the toilets are all selected from these handwritten copies. Whenever I saw those poorly drawn but blatantly obscene pictures in the toilet, my penis would instinctively start to throb, conjuring up all sorts of disgusting sexual fantasies, even the urge to stand up and thrust my penis against the pictures. My

deskmate was a short, thin girl named Gao Hongyan. When I first sat next to her, she timidly pressed herself against the wall, trying her best to avoid me. I glanced at her, and she lowered her head shyly. Emboldened by lust, I secretly peeked at her. Her delicate oval face had a pair of bright, kind eyes, and her fair cheeks were adorned with two prominent, red lips. Apart from that, this little girl was nothing special. Seeing me constantly peeking at her, Gao Hongyan blushed and turned her face away from me, offering me a pair of shiny black braids. "Hmph," I thought to myself, "what's so great about you? Honestly, I couldn't be bothered with her." Not only did I ignore her, but none of the boys in the class paid her any attention, as if she didn't exist. Even the girls disliked her. Whenever they gathered together to jump rope or play games, she would stand far away, staring blankly.

When she picked up her pen to do her homework, I secretly glanced over. Wow, my eyes widened in surprise! My God, what happened to her hands? Gao Hongyan, a pitifully thin girl, also had incredibly disappointing hands. Her hands were severely twisted, her fingers grotesquely bent, looking as if her tendons had been pulled out, and the backs of her hands were covered in repulsive scars. Seeing me staring at her scarred hands for so long, Gao Hongyan sadly stopped writing and buried her crippled hands deep into her ill-fitting sleeves. I couldn't help but ask,

"How did you get your hands like this?"

"Burned, burned," Gao Hongyan murmured,

"burned!"

"How did you get burned?" "

When I was little, my mother asked me to light the stove to cook, but it had rained all night, and the firewood was too wet when I got up in the morning, so I couldn't get it to light. I took a gasoline can and poured it into the stove. I took a match, and just as I struck it, whoosh—the stove suddenly burst into flames, which landed on my hands... and as a result, they burned like this!"

"Hey," I said confidently,

"Your mother is really something, making a little kid cook!"

"..." Gao Hongyan stopped talking, slowly stretched out her hand, and continued writing her homework. I couldn't believe she could write anything with that ridiculous pen-holding posture.

Our classroom was located at the far end of the school building, with a huge window right next to another building—the school's nursery, where the teachers' children were cared for. Our classroom faced the nursery through the window, forming a narrow gap between them. This gap was a troublesome place in the school, often causing headaches for the principal. When a new day began and we walked into the classroom with our backpacks, the girl on duty, sweeping the floor, covered her mouth and giggled, her face flushed.

"What are you laughing at?" a mischievous boy asked, puzzled.

"What are you laughing at? Did you have a good dream last night?"

"Hehe," the girl pointed her broom at the large window,

"Go see for yourself!" With that, her face turned even redder, and she slipped out of the classroom without looking back. Hearing her words, the boys, without even putting down their backpacks, rushed to the large window, their little heads instantly filling the windowsill.

Boom! A burst of lewd laughter immediately came from the windowsill. Unable to squeeze to the front, I stood on a chair and tiptoed to peer out, peering through the backs of those annoying heads. I saw a quilt tucked into the gap—the kind the daycare children used for their afternoon naps. Somebody had dragged it into the gap, and on the stained quilt lay several used condoms, covered in yellowish stains.

"What are you looking at?" Teacher Meng, carrying her lesson plans, barked sternly as she entered the classroom.

"Back to your seats!"

Teacher Meng put down her lesson plans and went to the windowsill. She glanced furtively out the window, a hint of helplessness immediately appearing on her dignified face. Her thick, dark eyebrows furrowed involuntarily, and then she slammed the window shut.

"Everyone, focus on your morning self-study!"

Teacher Meng hurriedly left the classroom. Less than ten minutes later, I heard a commotion coming from the crack under the window. Teacher Meng had reported to the principal, who then ordered the blankets to be rolled up and thrown into the trash can.

I sat there dumbfounded on the wooden chair, the image of those yellowish condoms lingering in my mind. A sudden surge of youthful lust ignited, and my restless desires began to stir again. When I saw those condoms, I thought of my mother, her body, her breasts, her private parts, and the things she and my father had done. Just thinking about it made my penis throb. "

Damn it," I cursed myself bitterly. "You worthless wretch! Why are you thinking about these wicked things again? What did you promise Mom? Are you going to repeat the same mistakes? Focus on your studies, don't think about anything else, concentrate entirely on your studies."

During the day, it was manageable; I would scold myself and try my best to control myself when lust arose. However, as soon as night fell, the primal urge burned like a raging fire, making it impossible for me to fall asleep. As soon as I closed my eyes, images of female genitalia described in books would appear, and then my penis would throb and become harder and harder, almost breaking. Whenever this happened, I would grasp my burning-hard penis and rub it repeatedly. I would close my eyes tightly and use Teacher Meng as an outlet, frequently masturbating: Ah, Teacher Meng, so beautiful Teacher Meng, such white skin, such long legs. Wow, in my mind, Teacher Meng would be naked and gracefully sitting beside me. I would take Teacher Meng's arm and kiss her beautiful cheek deeply, and Teacher Meng would return my long, sweet kiss. Then, my gaze lewdly fixed on Teacher Meng's private parts, which, like my mother's, were smooth and white, without a single pubic hair. Wow, Teacher Meng had the same fetish as my mother, liking to shave her pubic hair clean. As I stared in a daze, Teacher Meng suddenly obediently spread her long legs. Wow, I saw it, I saw Teacher Meng's genitals! I greedily bent down, admiring Teacher Meng's vagina without blinking. The more closely I looked, the more I felt that Teacher Meng's vagina was exactly the same as my mother's, even identical. I kept touching it until my penis was unbearably hard. So, I climbed on top of Teacher Meng. I, I... huff--, huff--, huff--, in endless sexual fantasies about Teacher Meng, under the rapid rubbing of my palms, my glans repeatedly spurted out white, sticky fluid. I never used my mother as an object of masturbation; I could no longer defile my dear mother. However, whenever I fantasize about Teacher Meng, her vagina in my imagination always looks exactly like my mother's vagina. After opening my eyes, I fall into deep thought: I have never actually seen Teacher Meng's vagina, but the vagina of Teacher Meng that I fantasize about is exactly my mother's.

No, no, this won't do. How could I fantasize about my own mother? No, absolutely not! So, I shifted my focus, making my deskmate Gao Hongyan, that unremarkable, skinny girl with a disability in both hands, my new object of sexual gratification. I gripped my hard penis, imagining Gao Hongyan's genitals. Wow, what kind of vagina would it be? It certainly wouldn't be as deep or long as my mother's. Ugh, damn it, why am I thinking about my mother again, you bastard. No, Gao Hongyan's vagina should be like this. I used all my inspiration, imagining a narrow, underage girl's vagina based on descriptions in books, and one without any pubic hair. Yes, she should be like my mother, without a single pubic hair. Oh dear, why am I thinking about my mother again? No, I must quickly dismiss this wicked thought. Think of Gao Hongyan, yes, only Gao Hongyan, not my mother.

Ah, Gao Hongyan, I fantasized about conquering her effortlessly. Under my fervent gaze, Gao Hongyan shyly undressed, and wow, I saw her delicate private parts. So, I gripped my penis and pressed it against her, my penis deeply penetrating her vagina. I thrust and thrust. Suddenly, I shuddered violently, instantly waking from my sexual fantasy. I felt something wet between my legs. I reached down and touched it; I'd had another wet dream, the bottom of my underwear soaked with thick semen. Frequent sexual fantasies made

me sleep less and less, and naturally, I couldn't get up on time in the morning. Whenever I opened my eyes, returning from fantasy to reality, the room was already empty. I got up with a heavy heart, staring blankly at the semen between my legs for a long time. I went to my mother's bedroom to look for new underwear. Suddenly, I found a pair of dirty underwear left on her bed, which she had just changed out of. I quietly grabbed it and saw a yellowish stain on the bottom. I brought it to my nose and sniffed. From the pungent smell, I seemed to smell my mother's unique body odor. My penis, which had just ejaculated, started to stir again. So, I tiptoed onto my mother's bed and slipped into the soft blankets. Hmm, suddenly, I felt a strange, damp coolness beneath me. I got up and saw a round, damp stain on my mother's mattress. I brought my nose close and sniffed. Ah, this must be what Mom and Dad left behind when they did *that*. I knew that. I smelled the extremely pungent smell of semen. And the other smell, needless to say, must be the fluid flowing from my mother's vagina—the so-called "love fluid" mentioned in books!

Looking at the stains left on the sheets after Mom and Dad made love, my mind started wandering again. The scene of me secretly watching Mom and Dad have sex when I was in elementary school reappeared before my eyes. As I stared at the stains, I glanced at Mom's panties, and my mind involuntarily conjured up the image of Mom's pink, moist, tender vagina. I don't know when I pulled out my penis, and I rubbed my hard penis against the bottom of Mom's panties repeatedly. As I rubbed, I closed my eyes and fantasized: Mom, Mom, this is Mom's fluid. Ah, my little penis is touching Mom's love fluid. Wow, Mom's love fluid smells so good and is so slippery... I felt like I was inhaling a drug. In this strange hallucination, I was making love with Mom. I was so excited that my heart was pounding wildly. Then my body shuddered, and a pool of semen gushed out from the tip of my penis, all of it spilling onto the bottom of Mom's panties.

Damn it, I suddenly remembered something, immediately threw off my underwear, and raised my hand to slap myself hard: Damn it, shameless thing, why did you think of Mom again? And, even worse, you were fantasizing about doing *that* with Mom. Damn it, forget about Mom and get back to reality! So, I changed into my new clothes, hurriedly picked up my schoolbag, and went to school with a heavy heart!

"Why are you late again!" Teacher Meng said to me with an unhappy look. I was thinking about how to defend myself when Teacher Meng waved me away:

"Quick, to my office!"

I put down my schoolbag and followed Teacher Meng into her office. Whenever I entered a teacher's office, whenever I came into contact with a teacher, I felt a strange pleasure all over my body, and my little penis was jumping restlessly between my legs.

"Here," I was staring blankly at Ms. Meng's chest, lost in fantasies, when suddenly, Ms. Meng looked up and pushed a stack of homework books in front of me:

"I've finished grading these assignments. Take these homework books back to the classroom and distribute them to your classmates!"

"Okay," I replied, barely suppressing my burning lust, and picked up the homework books as I left the teacher's office. When I pushed open the classroom door, whoosh—the classroom practically exploded! Deafeningly loud noises, like powerful waves of air, crashed into my eardrums with irresistible force. Chapter Nine: My ever-restless male classmates always find something to amuse themselves. While the teacher was out of the classroom, one of them pulled a rectangular black box from his bag. He held the box high and then proudly pressed a button. Wow, amazing! A strange melody emanated from the box, its rhythm so lively and intense, clanging and clattering, like a speeding train.

"Heave--, heave--, heave--, ..." "Click--, click--, click--, ..." "Clang--, clang--, clang--, ..." "..." The deafening music surged and rushed like a river bursting its banks. As they listened, several other male students put down their pens and rushed to the aisle, dancing wildly to the refreshing melody. Some swung their long legs, some wildly wiggled their big buttocks, and some ridiculously swayed their waists.

"Great! Great!" the male students clapped and cheered.

"Well done! Well done!" "Go wilder! Go wilder!" "Hey, can you come up with something new?" "..." "Damn!" A tall, thin guy jumped up from his chair and yelled disdainfully,

"Damn, you dare to show off with a broken lunchbox? What's so great about a broken speaker? My brother has a tape recorder with two speakers. I'll bring it over tomorrow so you can hear what two speakers sound like!" The next day, the tall, thin guy indeed brought a tape recorder with two speakers. The one-speaker tape recorder that had been jokingly called a lunchbox suddenly became a pitiful ugly duckling, secretly hiding in his schoolbag and never daring to show its face again. After school, many male students lingered by the two-speaker tape recorder, jumping and dancing wildly on the school's large playground. The lively scene was like a carnival!

When I pushed open the classroom door and first heard that novel melody coming from the black box—that wondrous lunchbox—I was immediately captivated. I stood there dumbfounded, holding my notebook, listening intently and eagerly: What unique and beautiful music! What kind of music is this? How come I've never heard it before?

*Snap!* Just as I was completely absorbed in the wild music, my classmate suddenly and mercilessly pressed the button, abruptly cutting off the beautiful melody. I was utterly disappointed.

"Don't turn it off! I haven't finished listening yet!" I hurriedly put down my notebook and yelled at the boy holding the black box. That guy was a notorious underachiever in the class, often punished by the teacher. Now, hearing my shout, he grinned and said,

"Class monitor, haha, you want to listen? No way, you can't listen! It's your fault for always tattling on me to the teacher!" "Hmph," I glared at him fiercely,

"Fine, I don't want to listen then! What a piece of junk, who cares!" That's what I said: I don't want to listen, I don't want to listen! But even after I got home from school, that captivating melody still echoed in my ears. I tried hard to recall the cheerful tune, hoping I could hum along, but at the time, I was only excited and didn't remember the wildly unrestrained tune at all.

The next day at school, I shamelessly approached that mischievous boy who held a grudge against me:

"Hey buddy," I said in a pleading tone,

"could I borrow your tape recorder to listen to something?" "Oh," the mischievous boy shrugged, waved his hands, and made a helpless gesture:

"Class monitor, that lunchbox isn't mine. I borrowed it. They only let me use it for one day, and I've already returned it!" "Sigh," disappointed, I went to the classmate with the two radios and asked to borrow it. The boy glared at me:

"Class monitor, no way! My brother bought it with half a year's salary. I took it secretly, and everyone was fiddling with it. I accidentally broke a key, and my brother punched me hard for it. Look…" He pulled open his collar and said to me,

"Look, it's still bruised! It hurts so much! When my brother gets angry, he doesn't care about anything! He punched me to the ground. If Mom hadn't arrived quickly, he would have beaten me half to death!" "Sigh," I sat down dejectedly in my seat. Gao Hongyan, seeing this, said to me in a low voice:

"If you like those songs, you can come to our place after school. My neighbor next door has one..." "Your place," I asked,

"Where do you live?" "Hmm," Gao Hongyan pondered for a moment, then suddenly shook her head in frustration:

"I won't tell you, I won't tell you!" "Hehe," I said coldly,

"What are you talking about? Are you trying to tempt me?" "Hehe," Gao Hongyan smiled mischievously, her fair face turning bright red:

"I can't tell you, I'm too embarrassed to say!" "Nonsense!" Gradually, I noticed a new fashion trend emerging in the streets and alleys. Young people who had earned a little money were swaggering around, cigarettes dangling from their lips, and radios with double speakers in their hands, attracting envious glances from passersby with their captivating music. I was completely captivated. Whenever I saw young people carrying tape recorders walking down the street, I would be drawn in by the unusual melodies, following them around with my schoolbag on my back for ages. Many times, I even forgot to go to school, resulting in being late time after time, and being scolded and warned by the teacher time and time again.

In my childhood, Sun Xun and I would secretly listen to his family's record player. The music flowing from that old record player was all orthodox music: Beethoven's symphonies, Spiegel's waltzes, and Schubert's little pieces. Today, this unconventional music has completely conquered me. In order to be able to appreciate that beautiful music, I finally put aside my pride and began to actively approach classmates who had tape recorders. My purpose was nothing more than to listen to that music that I could never get enough of.

I finally learned that this strange music was called disco. As I listened, I clumsily tried to imitate it. With my classmates' unreserved guidance and my own tireless efforts, I quickly mastered various dance styles. Often, without a care in the world, I would dance tirelessly with my classmates in the street, gathered around a blaring radio. We danced with abandon, completely absorbed, forgetting all about home.

Not only did I learn to dance disco wildly, but I also discovered an even stranger kind of music—jazz. Whenever jazz played, I would shake my head and sway my legs as if possessed, my whole body trembling, leading my classmates to jokingly call me

"the shaman!"

My entire being was immersed in this strange music, unable to extricate myself. I danced with a fervor, listened with rapt attention, and learned to hum Teresa Teng's love songs, Ouyang Feifei's dance tunes, and Zhang Tina's playful banter.

I danced and sang, completely losing interest in my studies. As a result, my grades plummeted during the final exams. My once-renowned student was now relegated to the very bottom of the list, shamefully relegated to the sidelines with the troublemakers!

My mother, furious after the parent-teacher conference, yelled,

"You, you, you're not studying properly again! The teacher said you're not studying at all! You're always dancing with those bad students and listening to those lewd songs!" What? Lewd songs? I huddled in a corner, head down, indignant: Such beautiful music, such sincere love songs, I don't find them lewd at all, and I don't hear anything lewd about them!

"Sigh," Dad sighed,

"It's not entirely his fault. Look, these junks are everywhere now, that little brat!" To get my mind back on my studies, Dad started using material rewards:

"If you catch up in your grades next semester, I'll buy you a tape recorder!" "Really?" I jumped up excitedly:

"Okay, Dad, don't worry, I'll definitely study hard, just watch my actions!" To get my beloved tape recorder as soon as possible, I had to suppress my restless mood and bury myself in my books again. I decided to work hard and give Dad and Mom a surprise. Hard work pays off. After some diligent effort, in the new semester's exams, my grades jumped from the bottom, much to Teacher Meng's astonishment, to third place.

My dad is a real man; he keeps his word. He spent almost a month's salary to buy me a lunchbox. But I was greedy. I suddenly remembered what my classmate had said:

"You dare show off this piece of junk?" "What, what kind of junk is this? It's just one speaker, it doesn't sound good! I want one with two speakers!" "What?" My dad, upon hearing this, was furious:

"You bastard, what do you mean one speaker or two speakers? Aren't they the same? They both make sound!

" "Absolutely not, the effect is different!" "Damn it, I spent a whole month's salary to buy you this junk! You're never satisfied! Are we a rich family? Your mother and I have spent all our salaries on this junk! Will we even eat this month? Will we all starve?" "Hmph," he shoved the ugly lunchbox onto the center of the table.

"Forget it, forget it, I don't want it, let's return it!" "No return, didn't you see the sign in the store: No returns after sale!" "Then, let my sister use it to learn a foreign language! Anyway, I'm not buying this piece of junk!" "Damn it," Dad cursed angrily,

"Fine, don't take it!" "Son!" That night, I didn't even eat dinner before angrily crawling into bed and falling asleep. Mom quietly pushed open the door and tugged at my blanket with great heartache:

"Son, eat before you sleep!" "No, I'm not hungry!"

"How can you not eat? You'll ruin your stomach, you'll develop health problems," Mom brought over steaming hot rice and fragrant braised pork:

"Son, listen to me, my good son, Dad won't buy you a two-speaker tape recorder, Mom will!" "Really," I jumped out of bed and hugged Mom's neck tightly:

"Mom, really? You're really going to buy me two loudspeakers?" "Really, Mom will buy them for you!" With that, Mom carefully pulled a beautiful little notebook from a small drawer:

"Son, don't argue with your dad. Mom has money. Look, this is Mom's savings book. Dad won't buy you one, but Mom will. Mom's buying my precious son two loudspeakers!" "Mom, a two-louds recorder is very, very expensive! Are you willing to spend that much?" "Son!" Mom gave me a quick kiss and said,

"Son, Mom loves you the most. Whatever you want, as long as Mom has it, I'll give it to you. If you say, 'Mom, give me your heart,' Mom will give it to you immediately, without even thinking!" Hehe, I secretly muttered to myself: You'll give me anything, Mom, I want you, will you give it to me? Wow, you're such a jerk! As soon as this thought crossed my mind, I immediately berated myself: What the hell are you thinking? Wanting Mom? How could you even think of that!

"Mom, Mom, my dear Mom!" I snuggled in my mother's arms, pleading,

"Mom, my dear Mom, when I grow up and earn money, I will definitely take good care of you!" "Hmph!" Mom tapped my forehead with her plump fingertips,

"You're so good with words, you can really sweet-talk people to death. Alright, son, eat your food. If you don't eat, Mom won't buy you a tape recorder with two loudspeakers!" "Okay, okay, Mom, I'll eat, I'll eat..." "Open your mouth and swallow!" As she spoke, Mom brought a spoonful of rice to my lips, and I nestled happily in her arms, opening my mouth.

That night, I couldn't sleep at all. Every time I closed my eyes, the image of that charming tape recorder with two speakers playing enchanting melodies would appear in my mind. I would happily walk down the street carrying it, and passersby would cast envious glances at me. Chapter Ten. The next morning, a day off, I excitedly followed my mother to the largest department store in the city. I went straight to the electronics department, while my mother lingered in the dazzling array of fashion items. I impatiently tugged at her sleeve:

"Mom, hurry up!" "Oh!" My mother reluctantly stroked a new fashion item:

"What a beautiful dress! It's so expensive!" "Come on, Mom, if you like it, you can buy it later when you have more money!" "Sigh," my mother reluctantly let go of her sleeve:

"Let's go!" I pulled my mother's hand, squeezed through the crowd, and entered the electronics department. Looking at the dazzling array of radios and tape recorders, I jumped for joy. My mother pushed me:

"Tell me, what brand do you want?" "Mom," I suddenly saw a row of four-speaker radios displayed prominently:

"Mom, I want one, I want one, I want one with four speakers!" "What!" My mother's eyes widened in surprise:

"Son, you, you, you're really pushing your luck!" "Mom," I looked at my mother pitifully with beggar-like eyes. My mother sighed, adjusted her glasses, and glanced at the small label under the tape recorder:

"Oh my god, over nine hundred yuan, child..." "Mom," I stared at my mother intently. My mother hesitated slightly, then turned around:

"Son, wait for me here for a while, don't wander off!" After saying that, my mother disappeared into the crowd. I leaned on the counter, my greedy eyes fixed on the tape recorder with its four gleaming speakers. I really wanted to jump onto the counter, grab it, and kiss it passionately.

"Son," Mom returned to the counter, sweating profusely, clutching a thick wad of banknotes.

"Son, tell me quickly, which brand of radio do you want?" "Sanyo!" "Heh," Mom grinned, saying bitterly,

"You just want whatever's good. If there were an eight-speaker one, I bet you'd want it too!" Having spent almost a thousand yuan of Mom's money, I finally walked out of the mall, excitedly carrying a four-speaker Sanyo radio. Mom dejectedly showed me her savings book:

"Son, you're happy now, but Mom's penniless. Look," I glanced at Mom's savings book; there was still a ten-yuan balance. I didn't care about that; my goal had finally been achieved. I made a face at Mom with the radio and then dashed off.

I instantly became the most important person in the class. I swaggered around the school building, carrying the four-speaker radio, followed by groups of drooling boys. We placed the radio on the school playground, then pressed the switch—whoosh!—and a volcanic eruption of exhilarating, wild music burst forth! Heh heh, it's definitely different; the sound quality of a four-speaker radio is incomparable to a two-speaker one, and far surpasses that of a one-speaker lunchbox. We gathered around the roaring radio, jumping and jumping with abandon! We jumped from the school playground to the main road, and then from the main road into the alleyways.

"How annoying," a middle-aged man muttered irritably as a group of people gathered in the alley, sitting side by side. An outdated radio sat atop a low roof, its crackling speaker emitting intermittent signals.

"Where did this bunch of brats come from? They're jumping around like lunatics, making a racket! We can't listen to the storytelling! It's fucking annoying!" I paused briefly, stealthily glancing at the listeners. Suddenly, I realized that they were all blind, without exception. This puzzled me greatly: where did so many blind people come from?

Just as I was wondering what was going on, I turned around abruptly and found Gao Hongyan standing silently in front of a dilapidated doorway. I wiped the sweat from my brow and smiled slightly at her. Gao Hongyan returned my smile shyly. I called out to her,

"Xiao Gao, come on, let's jump!" "No," Gao Hongyan continued to smile, shaking her head,

"No, I can't!" I walked to Gao Hongyan's side. She stepped back towards the doorway, one foot resting on the red brick steps that dipped below the horizon. I peered into the house, and Gao Hongyan's cheeks flushed instantly:

"I'm sorry, this is my home. The house is so run-down, I'm really sorry to let you in!" "Hey," I said dismissively,

"Xiao Gao, you're overthinking it. Can I come in and have a look?" "Well, well," Gao Hongyan continued to shrink back.

"If you don't mind that my family is poor and dirty, please come in!" "Thank you!" I followed Gao Hongyan, petite and thin, into the cellar-like house. Passing through a dark, smelly corridor, I entered a dimly lit room. The cramped room contained nothing of value. A messy earthen bed occupied almost half the room, and three people—a man and two women—sat on it. Gao Hongyan quietly introduced them to me:

"This is my dad, this is my mom, and this is my grandma!" Then, Gao Hongyan turned to the old woman who was engrossed in needlework and said,

"Grandma, this is my classmate; he's our class monitor!" "Oh," the old woman immediately stopped her work, busily tidying up the earthen bed, and then said kindly to me,

"Quick, quick, please sit down, please sit down!" "Class monitor?" Gao Hongyan's father muttered blankly.

"Class monitor, Gao Hongyan's class monitor is here!" I looked in the direction of the voice and, in the dim light, I noticed that Gao Hongyan's father's eyes were rolling around in a terrifying manner. It turned out that he was also blind, and Gao Hongyan's mother, sitting next to him, was also blind. I finally understood why Gao Hongyan was cooking at such a young age and accidentally burned her hands, and why Gao Hongyan wouldn't tell me her home address. Yes, it was indeed difficult to talk about such a poor and remote place.

"Class monitor!" The tall, thin man, sweating profusely, carried the tape recorder into Gao Hongyan's house and slammed it onto the earthen bed.

"Here you go, everyone's tired from dancing, time to go home!" "Oh my," Gao Hongyan's grandmother glanced at the tape recorder.

"What a big thing! It must be worth a lot of money!" "Of course!" Gao Hongyan said enviously.

"It's worth almost a thousand yuan!" "What?" Gao Hongyan's father rolled his eyes in surprise.

"A thousand yuan! Your mother and I together only make a little over six hundred yuan a year! Child, your parents really spoil you, willing to spend so much money on this thing!" "Dad—," Gao Hongyan pouted.

"How can we compare to them? We can't compare to them in anything, not even money, our houses are so much worse!" "Yes," Gao Hongyan's grandmother said with deep feeling.

"Comparisons are odious, and comparing goods is pointless. We're poor, how can we compare ourselves to others?" "Uncle," I whispered to Gao Hongyan's father,

"Uncle, which company do you and Auntie work for?" "We work," Gao Hongyan's father sighed,

"What factory would want disabled people like us? The civil affairs department forced us into a radio factory, but we hadn't even worked a full month before we were laid off. We get a small allowance each month, enough for thin porridge and some pickled vegetables. We're lucky if we don't starve!" "Laid off?" I muttered, puzzled. Gao Hongyan nodded at me.

"Yeah, holidays, it's always holidays. Ever since I was old enough to understand, my dad and mom haven't worked a single day. They just sit on the kang (a heated brick bed) every day, just drifting along like this, not knowing when it will end!" I spent my days jumping around with the tape recorder that my classmates envied. The golden years slipped away from our hysterical feet. In the blink of an eye, when we absentmindedly walked into the classroom, we found Teacher Meng standing on the podium, deep in thought, flipping through the new textbook. Only then did I realize that the new semester had begun, and we had grown another year older without even realizing it!

When Teacher Meng slammed the new textbook onto my desk, I opened it intentionally or unintentionally. As I looked at it, I couldn't help but frown, just like Teacher Meng, and then slammed the textbook aside with a loud thud:

"What is this junk?!" "Hehe," Xiao Gao said nonchalantly,

"Who cares what it is? Just copy me!" Since my unintentional visit to Gao Hongyan's house, our relationship had suddenly become closer. She no longer avoided my eager gaze, and often joked with me, even secretly pinching my arm with her crippled little hand.

"Ouch," I grinned, clutching my arm, and said to Gao Hongyan,

"Hehe, your hands look thin and frail, but they're surprisingly strong when you pinch someone, like a pair of sharp iron pliers!" "Get lost," Gao Hongyan smiled, then pinched my nose with her little hand.

"But," I said irritably, flipping through my textbook at Gao Hongyan,

"what, what, what is all this stuff? We're in our second year of middle school, already in our second year, but what have we learned? In elementary school we studied Mao Zedong's Selected Works, and now that we're older, we should be learning something real, but look at this! It's almost entirely filled with Hua Guofeng's speeches. Is this a textbook or political study material?" "Say less," Teacher Meng said, walking past me with a bundle of books reeking of ink. She tossed her hand dismissively:

"Here, there's more. We'll be studying this again this semester!" I picked up the booklet Teacher Meng had tossed on the desk, opened it, and nearly burst out laughing:

"Damn it!" I finally couldn't hold back and cursed. This was the first time I'd swore since my mother scolded me. The booklet that Teacher Meng had given us was actually a simplified Chinese dictionary. Looking at those pitiful Chinese characters, so drastically simplified by some linguistic genius, I gritted my teeth in anger:

"This, this isn't even Chinese anymore! It's practically indistinguishable from Japanese!" But that wasn't the worst part. What was even more unacceptable was that someone had the audacity to arbitrarily modify the national anthem: "Chairman Hua led us on a new Long March!" Damn it, a nameless fire suddenly welled up inside me. My interest shifted abruptly from women, radios, and Teresa Teng to politics. And, with age, my body underwent unprecedented changes. My voice became deep and resonant, and incredibly, a patch of fine downy hair grew on my lips. At the same time, my courage grew, and my rebelliousness intensified. I have my own opinions and views on everything that happens around me. I thought I had read a lot of books, so I arrogantly argued with my political teacher about what is pure communism and what is orthodox Marxism.

"You ungrateful wretch!" the political teacher roared, spitting as he spoke.

"Your thinking is appalling! You're just too young. Otherwise, you shouldn't be sitting here studying; you should be squatting in prison eating cornbread. That's the place for you!" "Hmph," I retorted defiantly,

"What's so great about being in prison? Which revolutionary martyr hasn't been to prison!" In music class, we had to learn how to sing the new national anthem. My music teacher was a thin man about my father's age. He waved his dry, wood-like fingers with a pointed chin and monkey-like cheeks:

"Chairman Hua leads us on a new Long March! Sing—," but I, without hesitation, sang the old national anthem. The music teacher repeatedly tried to persuade me, but I remained unmoved. Finally, the music teacher, exasperated, walked up to me with a sullen, yellow face:

"Do you even know how to sing the new national anthem?" "No, I'll never sing the new national anthem!" *Smack!* The music teacher's dry hand lashed out, slapping me hard across the face. Caught off guard, I covered my face, looking at the music teacher with immense embarrassment. The music teacher glared at me fiercely, about to turn and walk back to the piano. Enraged, I instinctively pulled my hand out and struck him hard in the chest with all my might. The music teacher, caught completely off guard, fell backward violently.

I had injured the music teacher and received a warning from the school. I was no longer the class monitor; I became a notorious hooligan, a scoundrel who dared to hit a teacher. As for me, I drifted along, giving up entirely. Whenever I had politics or music class, I wouldn't look at the textbook. I'd sit at my desk either scribbling or memorizing idioms from the dictionary. And in Chinese class, when Teacher Meng taught us to write simplified characters, I deliberately went against her, opening the dictionary to write traditional characters. Ms. Meng, her eyebrows furrowed in anger, yelled,

"You... do you even want to study well anymore?" With that, she snatched my homework, filled with densely written traditional Chinese characters, and tore it to shreds.

"Hmph," I muttered, sitting silently in my chair, letting Ms. Meng shout until she was exhausted. When she finally tired herself out and left the classroom with her lesson plan, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and quietly slipped out of the school building. From that moment on, I never returned to school, never returned to my seat. I wandered the streets! Chapter Eleven: I wandered aimlessly along the bustling streets, backpack on my back. Gazing at the crisscrossing alleys, I wondered, "Where can I go?"

Crossing street after street, passing by park after park, I gradually felt tired. So, I took off my backpack and placed it on the pavement, then plopped down. I wiped the sweat from my brow and glanced absentmindedly across the street.

Across the street was a shady open space. Through the tall, straight ancient cypress trees, a peeling red wall was faintly visible, with large characters carved on the dusty wall: "Namo Amitabha!" It was a temple. Curiosity made me temporarily forget my fatigue. I carried my schoolbag and crossed the street to the temple gate, wanting to see what it was all about. To my disappointment, the temple's large wooden gate was tightly closed. I had no choice but to walk along the wall into the shaded area. A group of people were lazily gathered in the pine forest, littered with fallen branches and leaves. I casually moved closer, and through the backs of the people, I heard a rather familiar voice. He was spouting nonsense with great conviction. I quietly peeked in, and oh my goodness, it was Gao Hongyan's blind father. He sat on a small wooden chair, his withered hands holding a young girl's small hand, and he was talking incessantly about fate, future, love, wealth, and so on. Looking at his serious expression, I almost burst out laughing. Although Gao Hongyan's father was blind, I was still worried that he would notice my presence. So, I stuck out my tongue at him and hurriedly slipped out of the crowd, muttering to myself: I've never heard Gao Hongyan say that her blind father can draw lots and tell fortunes!

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