[A Collection of Random Tales] - "The Snow of My Hometown, the Feelings of My Hometown"

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A Random Musings – Hometown Snow, Hometown Sentiments
The river, restrained by its banks, splashes wildly; my soul sings in its excessive tranquility.
*** *** *** ***
My hometown, a small town in Jiangnan, is otherworldly. Whenever I look out from among the lush green willows, the Yangtze River under the rising sun
shimmers with golden light. Boats glide by, their white sails rippling the water like drifting clouds on a silver river.
After the Beginning of Spring, a gentle drizzle falls, and the hibernating grass begins to reveal its verdant eyes; in summer,
the scorching sun beats down, and tall sycamore trees provide shade; after the Beginning of Autumn, the autumn rains bring fluctuating temperatures, and the sycamore leaves
first turn yellow, then bronze, and then fall one by one with a metallic sound—winter is fast approaching
.
What I remember most vividly is the winter of my hometown, the snow of my hometown, holding within it so many memories, both sweet and bitter.
When I was seventeen, after the winter solstice, the biting north wind grew stronger day by day. As evening approached and dusk deepened
, most people closed their doors early, except for a few stalls and shops that remained open. The raging
wind, though kept out of my door, seeped in through the cracks in the wooden planks of our old ancestral home, howling and
chilling. At this time, my mother and I would cut strips of wood paper we'd bought, mix some glue,
and seal all the gaps with these strips, preparing for winter.
"Qiao'er, do you think your father has arrived yet? It's so cold; I'm really worried the coat I asked him to take isn't warm enough
," my mother said, her pale face full of worry. "
Mom, don't worry," my father replied. "Dad wore plenty of layers when he left, and with so many colleagues on the train, he'll be fine
. You're just worrying unnecessarily." He was wearing the greyish-blue crepe leather robe passed down from my grandfather, with
an old-fashioned overcoat over it. As an accomplished paleontologist, my father's
eyes would light up at the mere mention of a new species, and despite his frail health, he would insist on going to the discovery site. This time, the Zhejiang Provincial Cultural Relics Bureau
had invited him to identify a newly discovered dinosaur fossil, reportedly a medium
-sized dinosaur, six or seven meters long, that was both herbivorous and carnivorous. The rescue and excavation work was about to begin.
"Sigh, I was just worried about his health. The traditional Chinese medicine your grandfather prescribed for him finished this morning, so I had to ask
him to take some Western medicine with him. If I had known, I would have prescribed more, and things wouldn't have turned out this way… sigh!" My mother sighed deeply, turning her gaze back to the distance
, a faint light flickering in her eyes.
"I just didn't expect it. Looking at the weather, it looks like it's going to snow. If the snow closes the mountains, I don't know what
will happen. Dad's just so stubborn; I can't persuade him otherwise." I felt both worried and somewhat resentful. My mother usually
does all the housework, juggling work and family responsibilities. My father's health has always been poor, and
my mother tirelessly cares for him. The couple has never argued or quarreled, which explains why our family has been
recognized as a model family by the neighborhood committee every year.
"Yes. He said he'd be back in two or three days, maybe a week. But man proposes, God disposes
. If it really snows heavily, it'll be terrible. Sigh, Qiao'er, what do you think?" My mother
rubbed her hands together to warm them, her breath forming a thin mist on the windowpane.
"Mom, you're cold. Come on, let's light the stove." I took my mother's hand and placed it in my palm;
it was indeed icy cold. My mother's small hands were round and delicate, incomparably exquisite and skillful. With her
gentle touch, Suzhou storytelling became famous far and wide.
"No, it's not cold. Qiao'er, there's still some lotus flower and corn porridge Mom made, have another bowl." My mother gently
pulled away, letting me hold her hand, a slight blush appearing on her originally fair face.
I took a deep breath. My mother, standing gracefully before me, was so dignified and beautiful. This was
my mother who gave me life and raised me; her warm blood beat in my veins. I couldn't ignore this beauty; this feeling
was innate, constantly lingering in my dreams, impossible to shake off.
I often longed for its arrival when I was troubled. Lu Xun wrote in "Call to Arms": "
Lately I've only been troubled, troubled like a great poisonous snake coiled around my soul." He wrote so well, revealing
my inner world in a single sentence. Because I always felt that troubledness possessed a very demonic quality; it came from nowhere, and
once it coiled around a person, it was impossible to get rid of, just like the great poisonous snake in the Indian forest, considered sacred yet eerie.
"Alright, go light the stove, I'll go get some more charcoal." My mother pulled my small
hand away from her lips, turned, and went into the storage room. Her slender figure was like a pale blue-ochre impressionistic painting. I followed closely behind her
. The closed room seemed to be filled with her alluring fragrance, wafting into my nostrils. I could almost see
the peach-colored clouds in the sky.
"Mom, I miss you... I want you..." I hugged my mother's soft body from behind, feeling my heart
pounding. "You know what? I didn't sleep much last night, just listening to you and Dad..."
"Ah, no, don't... Qiao'er... you, you promised me..." My mother tried to break free from my embrace
, but she was powerless. My strong arms were her own. I could feel that my mother's hands and feet
were frozen, and her whole body was trembling. I pressed my face against her back, my arms still tightly wrapped
around her. My mother's firm breasts, within my grasp, fueled my burning desire.
"Mom, Mom, just let me hold you, even just like this," I pleaded, my deep baritone voice trembling like willow catkins in the wind , dancing wildly in the sky, a frenzied 　　dance of dreams
, echoing the howling north wind outside the window . 　　"Good child, listen to me... this isn't good, it's really not good. Let me go, I'm your mother!" 　　My mother choked back tears, her silvery voice ringing in my ears. My soul felt as if it were lying on a dream net, swaying 　　gently, ethereally, and serenely in her fragrant embrace. I was intoxicated, as if I had drunk fine, aged wine. 　　"Mom, isn't it nice to just hold you like this? Didn't you say you liked it when I held you like this? Mom, 　　I haven't been happy these past few days, so unhappy!" I lifted my face and brought my lips close to her pointed earlobe. 　　My mother's ear hooks were those old-fashioned pure gold hoop earrings, gleaming in her cloud-like black hair. The sky outside the window was low 　　, the clouds were dim, and the north wind howled across the rooftops and ditches, countless withered leaves swirling and scattering in the wind.

The trees trembled in the wind, just like my mother in my arms at that moment.
"Ah, Qiao'er, Mom can't make another mistake. Let go of Mom, my good child..." My mother's voice
was broken, faint, like a half-dried stream hidden by white clouds, like the desolate sound of autumn.
I remained silent. My mother's voice was low, like a lost mermaid sobbing in the dark night. I read it,
appreciating the shock and poignant beauty it brought on this gloomy winter day. In those past days, my
soul had long been corroded by that great serpent, and sometimes I even longed for that pain to return, because it was accompanied
by joy, and could slightly lift my gloomy spirit. I had neither the courage of Hemingway to commit suicide, nor could I
allow this deathly silence to permanently erode my soul. So, I could only continue making mistakes.
In silence, I persisted in my convictions. My left hand slipped under her clothes, and my mother's breast,
small and delicate, possessed the typical grace of a woman from the Jiangnan water towns. In my grasp, it twisted and swayed, its soft curves like a gentle moan.
But what ignited my burning desire was her docile, exquisite vulva, which, under the cover of my right hand, went from cold to hot, swirling like clouds.
My mother stopped struggling. The room was quiet, but the pulse of our excited hearts beat palpable. A mysterious,
natural language slowly seeped into the depths of my soul. I believed my mother felt the same way. In this utter
silence, my heart soared like a wisp of smoke, recalling that beautiful day, that
time, the lingering melancholy after the party, that tender affection, and that deep sense of helplessness!
My mother cried. My charming, gentle, passionate, and inherently fragile mother trembled, and a warmth spread to my
fingertips. I turned my mother around. Her bright eyes were dazzling, tinged with a hint of sadness, and the bamboo fence in my heart
crumbled once more. I gently picked her up. Her rosy lips were like blooming violets, their color so vibrant they seemed
cut from paper, and in her flowing eyes floated a lush green. I couldn't help but recall a line of poetry: "In her autumn waters
, verdant meadows pass by."
"Qiao'er...you, you put the mosquito net down..." My mother's timid, soft voice was like
a bird's song with wings.
"Yes, Mom." I obediently put down the beaded gauze mosquito net, even though there were only the two of us in the room, she still
insisted on doing so. The large mahogany lacquered bed that my mother had brought with her dowry rocked and swayed, a rhythmic,
undulating movement. My mother's tenderness flowed out bit by bit in her plaintive moans, each sound
like a clear spring initially flowing laboriously and quietly through a crack in the rocks, then, drawn by me, gushing forth
in a torrent.
My mother's vulva was initially somewhat inexperienced, like the verdant grapes of the south, its color amber, shimmering with
a reddish glow. I felt my strong member galloping across the vast countryside, or like a small boat with a plain sail, moored
in the middle of a paddy field. All my worries vanished. I gazed at the lush green grass, listening to my mother's
melodious song, like birdsong, and the world was filled with wondrous sounds.
"Bridge, be gentle... I want it, I'm almost... I can't take it anymore..." My mother rose and fell several times, slowly
slowing her movements, the complex rhythms becoming harmonious, long and short, fast and slow, like the whisper of wind and the song of rain, a languid yet
joyful expanse.
I slowed my pace, gently stretching my growing waist. Through the white gauze curtain, I saw the lattice
screen covered with faded blue silk, and the grid paper my mother and I had pasted together. I turned my gaze back; my mother's body
was a pearly white, shrouded in a misty silvery vapor, her whole body like a wordless
book unfolding before me. My mother's voice rose, melodious, lingering in the air, filled with a faint
floral fragrance… gentle, fresh, giving me boundless joy.
After about three or five minutes, I heard the patter of raindrops on the grass, her soft,
trembling murmurs mingling with joyful and resonant tones. This clear trill, for some reason,
made me smile slightly as I moved, yet also brought tears to my eyes. The gentle breeze, the splashing spring water—
how could they compare to the most tender melody uttered during human intercourse?
"Mmm...mmm, hum...ah..." Mother murmured again, the down comforter covering her arching, and
without realizing it, our legs stretched out, basking in the sunlight, yet we didn't feel the cold. I listened intently;
her clear voice floated all around, like the chirping of spring insects, the murmur of flowers. Wasn't this scene exactly that eternal day
? That night, the night was beautiful, the world unusually tranquil. No painter's brush could capture that
scene, yet it is forever etched in my heart!
"Mom, I want to do this, okay?" I gently placed my fingers on her chrysanthemum bud. In the folds
were hazy mountains, shrouded in mist, like fairies draped in milky-white gossamer veils. I often fantasized about one
day wandering among them. My mother was shy. I once tried to do it from behind, but she refused.
I knew and understood that the unusual position made her feel humiliated. Therefore, I tried to guide her, taking advantage of the beautiful
atmosphere, the intoxicating moment.
"No, no, this won't do, how can this be? We're not animals, besides, it's so dirty there..." My mother
's reserve and shyness made her refuse this position that made her feel ashamed.
However, I knew. I knew she and my father had done it; I had seen it by chance once. That was when I
was thirteen, just as the cicadas were shedding their last chirps and flitting across the branches. That day, the summer heat was fading, and a refreshing autumn breeze was blowing…
*** *** *** ***
“Brother Qiao, I caught another cricket today! Let’s go find Da Sha’s ‘Ever-Victorious General’ and have a fight
!” My neighbor, Er Leng, pushed open my door, holding a small earthenware jar. The chirping coming from inside
was loud and powerful; I could immediately tell this cricket was a formidable fighter. Sure enough, when I opened it, it was long, with
a large mouth and strong legs, a dark brown color—a top-quality cricket. I gently nudged it with a blade of grass, and it immediately
opened its mouth, flapped its wings, eager to fight, and chirped.
“Where did you find it? Hey, this time it’ll definitely beat that kid!” I exclaimed with delight. Yesterday, I spent a long time with Dafu
scratching and digging at the foot of the old blue brick wall behind my house and in the damp ruins, but I couldn't find a good
fighting fish. The most I found were fat, big three-tailed fry, which were of no use at all.
"Hehe, I found this by the ancient tomb on the back mountain last night. Pretty impressive, right?" Erleng
said smugly, like a cricket strutting around in a clay pot. I laughed and grabbed him.
"Come on, let's go find Da Sha."
"Qiao'er, you haven't eaten yet?" My mother rushed out, wearing a light purple woolen coat
and holding an unpeeled water chestnut. "It's okay, Mom, I'm not hungry. You and Dad eat..." I replied as
I ran, the fighting spirit burning within me, encouraging me to defeat that smug
guy immediately.
But I lost that battle badly.
When I returned home dejectedly, it was late, the moon hidden by the treetops. I walked around the
pond behind the old house towards home. Looking up, I saw the old house standing alone by the water, curtains hanging low in front of the windows, and several graceful
autumn willows gently brushing against the clean white marble slabs in front of the door. I didn't enter through the main gate. Instead, I climbed over the crumbling old
wall and jumped into the courtyard. The autumn night air was filled with the rich fragrance of locust blossoms. Through the glass window, I saw
my father's study, bright as an autumn pool, radiating a soft, clear light.
On the exquisite ebony table by the window sat an animal skeleton, apparently my father's new specimen.
My father and mother admired the specimen side by side. My father pointed at it, while my mother nodded in praise, her lowered eyes
sparkling with admiration and joy. I thought, perhaps it was a case of loving the house because of the animal; my mother also cherished every
piece of my father's work. That mutual understanding and connection often amazed me in the years that followed.
The clear, watery lamplight illuminated my father's white hair and my mother's rosy cheeks. Occasionally, they would look up, their eyes meeting,
revealing a deep and unforgettable love between them.
My father came from a poor family and his hair turned gray in his youth, yet he excelled academically, earning him high regard from both the school and the industry—truly a top
student among top students. My mother met my father through my maternal uncle, who was his classmate. That year
, after graduating from university, my father visited my uncle and met my mother. She said she was
attracted by the deep, ethereal wisdom flowing in my father's dark eyes, and did not look down on him because of his frail appearance; on the contrary, she
fell in love at first sight and remained devoted to him for life. My father's outstanding success in his academic field
can be said to be inseparable from my mother's virtuous support.
"Peijiang, I'm going to Beijing tomorrow. What do you want me to buy for you?" My father gently
embraced my mother, lowered his head to kiss her temples, and let his hands roam over her body.
"Hmm, I don't want anything. I just hope you can finish your business and come back soon. You should
buy some toys for Qiao'er; he's been a bit too wild these past few days, and I really don't know how to teach him." My mother's voice was sweet
and cloying, like sticky rice paste mixed with sugar.
"You always spoil him like this; you'll spoil him rotten." My father was slowly undressing my mother,
but then she broke free, went to the window, and drew the curtains. In my haste to hide, I caught
a glimpse of her milky white skin beneath her neck. My heart pounded, and I jumped into my mother's bedroom. I knew
my mother's temperament; she wouldn't do that kind of thing with my father in the study.
"You, it's the same in the study, why do you insist on coming back to the bedroom?" As I expected, my father couldn't resist
my mother's insistence and had to follow her back to their bedroom. "No, how can we do this there
? What if Qiao'er suddenly comes back? Yu Nong, please don't turn the light on again." After closing the door, Mother
took off her underwear and neatly placed it on the bedside table. The light was still on, but Father ignored
her; he wanted to savor and admire Mother's beauty.
Desire stirred within me with surging passion. This passion rose from my lower abdomen,
rising higher and higher, as if to burst through my heart and then spread in all directions. Mother's breasts were small and delicate,
not as enormous as the neighbor's mother's, but more refined and rounded, with pale purple nipples adorning her firm
breasts.
Father stroked Mother's abdomen, where there was a mark left from giving birth to me. "Jiang, you're so
beautiful. Look, you're all wet..."
"Hmph... Yu Nong, stop touching me..." Mother closed her eyes, and I could feel
the rising desire within her, burning within me as well, making me gasp for breath. My burning
penis proudly erected its tent for the first time.
"Alright, my little darling, I'm coming..." Father thrust his penis deep into Mother's body,
his voice hoarse. He lifted Mother's legs in his hands, in a position like a spear thrusting into the sun.
I heard Mother's tears of joy, and the air was filled with the sound of fine sand rubbing together. I was drawn in and
listened carefully. It didn't sound like their genitals intertwining, but rather like three or five small blue dragonflies rubbing their thin wings together, a
babbling brook. The sound seemed to be tinged with vibrant colors, and I could almost see the damp green, near and far,
shrouded in a misty haze.
"Ah..." Father cried out, a long, desolate cry, tinged with despair. He shifted his body a few times,
then lay motionless on top of his mother. Time seemed to stand still; the night was long, and the room was deathly silent.
I could only hear my own breathing, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Jiang, it's been so long since we've done it, I
thought... I thought... who knew..."
Hiding behind the curtains, I held my breath, afraid to speak. The chill of the late autumn night rose from between my toes. I
heard my mother sigh deeply. "It's alright, Ming-ge. You've always been in poor health, and you've been working so hard lately,
you might have been distracted. It's okay, we'll start again." My mother sat up, her naked body like a melancholy
goddess, pure and beautiful, emitting a sapphire-like glow. I finally saw the coral-like
liquid my father had ejaculated, dripping onto her soft pubic hair, lewd and desperate.
"Come, let me help you." My mother grasped my father's limp penis, slowly rubbing it until it
revived.
"Jiang, I heard there's a way to stimulate me..." The father inserted his fingers deep into the mother's body,
his eyes shining. His charming wife lay sprawled under the orange light, delicate and frail, just like the bride she once was.
"What?" Mother gasped. She gently stroked Father's face, her touch as tender as a goddess in a dance.
"I heard it works here too. Jiang, let's try it, okay?" In desperation, Father pressed his thumb
against Mother's anus.
"Ah, how can this be? How could you even think of that? It's so dirty." Mother's face flushed red with shame, and she pushed Father
away.
"No, it's okay, really. Jiang, just let me try." Father's stubborn voice held anxiety
and pleading. "It's so small, how can it fit? And it will hurt a lot." Mother hesitated, and
under Father's caresses, her vulva secreted some fluid, glistening in the light.
"How will you know it won't work if you don't try? Come on, Jiang... even if it's for my sake..." Father probably imagined
the sensation, his penis hard as a board, stretching open in Mother's hand. My mother's unease slowly
subsided. Looking at the penis, she murmured, "Okay, just this once." She propped her elbows
on the bed, her rounded buttocks facing me. Her pubic hair was half-wet, half-dry, her tender pink labia half-open
, revealing delicate, smooth, and glistening flesh. My lips, dry and parched, were agape as I imagined
the sweet juice and tender pink flesh; saliva finally welled up at the corners of my mouth.
"Ah, it hurts...it hurts..." My mother's buttocks were smooth and flawless, unlike the overgrown pubic area. I could clearly
see my father's glans inserted into her anus. "Just bear with it. You forgot, the first time is always like this
..." My father placed his left hand on my mother's smooth buttocks, while his right hand reached around to her breasts, then pulled back slightly before
thrusting forward again. Although I couldn't see my mother's expression from behind,
I could still hear a hint of pleasure in her painful groans . I thought she was in pain, yet also experiencing joy.
In the hidden darkness, my engorged penis throbbed in my hand, vast and boundless, like
a lone wolf roaming the grasslands in search of food.
My mother's panting and groans echoed in the quiet night, ethereal and mysterious, carrying the delicate moans and sobs unique to Eastern women
, "I'm going to die... I'm really going to die..."
I seemed to feel the loneliness of a bamboo shoot breaking through the soil, and I even saw the blood, the cruel red...
*** *** *** ***
"Qiao'er, get up, okay?" My mother's gentle tone was as usual, carrying a faint fragrance.
"Yes, Mom, I'll go heat up some wine, let's have a few cups, okay?" My hand gently pressed against my mother's warm
mons pubis, slowly and softly, like stroking a newborn baby.
Yellow leaves fluttered against the old windowpane, the wind grew stronger, and the sky grew darker.
"I'll go, you stay in bed, it's warmer," my mother said, lifting herself from my strong abdominal
muscles. Her voice, soft and melodious like pearls rolling on a jade plate, was gentle and sweet after her love bath. She turned her back, her shapely
back gleaming, and tears welled in my eyes. I was moved. My mother lived fully in my
past, in the most vibrant and vivid seventeen years of my life. It was in those days that I
understood the secrets of the sky and nature, glimpsed the secret trysts of mountains and clouds, became familiar with the tender embrace of rice paddies and land, and
participated in the rendezvous of the ocean and sandy shore…
There were sixteen jars of "Daughter's Red" wine that my mother brought with her as part of her dowry. My father didn't drink, and neither did my mother. It wasn't
until my grandfather came to visit when I was sixteen that my mother took it out of the storeroom.
My mother opened the jar; the wine was a deep crimson, a powerful color that embodied the tenacious emotions of life
, containing a rich tapestry of meaning: death and rebirth, lingering affection and liberation, disillusionment and reality, imprisonment and freedom
…
“Qiao’er, this is my homesickness.”
I was jolted. My frail and delicate mother had been away from her family home for over a decade. Her hometown, Huilin Town, wasn't
far, yet I had never seen her return. Why, I didn't know. But today, seeing her
so grave, bathed in the shimmering reflection of the wine, I felt a strange, poignant sadness. Warm flames danced in the charcoal stove,
mingling with the wine.
“Mom, are you homesick?” A slight pang of pity welled up in my heart. Perhaps, as one grows older, homesickness
comes and goes like the tides.
Two large tears welled up in my mother's pure and elegant face. She shook her head slightly. "No. Qiao'er, you're
still too young to understand..." Her voice was as soft as smoke, drifting across the aged red windowpane.
"Mom, when can I go home with you to visit? I've never been to Grandma's house." My mother's eyes
were shimmering and dreamy, captivating my heart. I gazed intently at the charming dimples at the corners of her lips, where so much tender
affection and blissful longing were hidden.
I just stared, wishing I could see the world as dust on my eyelashes.
"Okay, we'll go back after your college entrance exam next year." My mother was somewhat delighted. "Actually, you have been back before
, but you were only two years old then, and you've long forgotten."
"Come on, Mom, let's have a drink." I picked up the bowl; the wine, as crisp as the harsh winter outside the window, melted in my warm
heart.
My mother's jade-like hands also picked up the bowl and drank it all in one gulp. I had no idea my mother had such a high tolerance for alcohol. I was astonished
to see the slight smile on her lips. She shone brightly on the mountaintop of my heart, clear and bright in my entire sky.
How could I not love her? Completely captivated…
As I gazed at her, a blush suddenly rose on her beautiful face. “Still not enough, you silly boy
…” Her playful scolding shattered my senses. How could I not be enough? I stared into those deep, ocean-like eyes, those
lingering whispers, that deep longing that time could not erase. In the depths of those enchanting eyes, I had already
lost myself.
…
I sank into that sea once more, surfing joyfully. My mother, in her murmured murmurs, opened herself up,
embracing my strength. Her face held a poignant, elusive beauty. Finally, we were united again,
my mother, whom I longed for day and night, the one I dreamed of! The soft, melodious murmur of my mother drifted into my ears, gentle and tender,
like the ocean's lament, shrouded in a golden mist.
My mother arched her back, swayed gently—who knew? Beneath the calm surface of the lake lay a herd of wild, enraged horses!
I gazed at her silently, and she looked back at me with her deep, tender eyes. —In the depths of those eyes,
I felt an irresistible allure.
"Oh… Bridge…" she moaned. I sipped the delicate, purplish-red granules, taking a small bite;
the milky aroma was irresistible. I noticed her trembling, and my inner self was immediately drawn back into that warm
sea of desire. It was gentle and serene, bold and passionate, profound and deep, mysterious and transcendent…
Outside the door came shouts of passersby, "It's going to snow!"
And as expected, the snow began to fall. Soon, a soft drizzle began, the
large raindrops accompanied by natural hexagonal crystals tapping against the black tiles of the roof, like a mother's nimble hands gently gliding across
the strings of her zither, a melodious and tinkling sound…
The mother sat up, her anxious eyes peering through the latticed paper window, "It's snowing, it should be here by now
…"
Outside the window, the snow, chased by the wind, swirled and danced, drifting and scattering,
sometimes turning and soaring into the air, sometimes stretching out its arms, and then rushing headlong into the earth that eagerly awaited its embrace. This snowy
scene should have been a paradise of joy for children; the neighborhood kids had already run and cheered through the streets and alleys, stumbling and
falling, their hearts filled with happiness.
I looked away. A layer of melancholy white clouded my mother's rosy lips. "Mom, Dad will call when he gets here
. Don't worry, it's not his first time going out. He's been through much more dangerous things before, let alone this snow."
My mother stretched out her snow-white arm, gathering the beaded gauze curtains. "You're just happy by yourself,
not worried at all, how heartless..." Her voice held a hint of displeasure, a soft scolding tinged with a touch of coquettishness.
"Mom, you've misunderstood me. My love for Dad is the same as yours, no different. I'm just saying,
even if we worry here for ages, it's useless. What's meant to happen will happen, and what's not meant to happen won't happen
. There's no need to worry too much." I felt a little wronged, withdrawing my fingers that were still inserted in my mother's vagina. The strong
smell of semen, like the aroma of fine wine, slowly faded.
"And you still say that? Look at you..." My mother trembled slightly, glared at me, put on her
cotton coat, and closed her eyes in meditation.
I was speechless. In my position, I truly don't know how to put it. I've fallen into a dreamlike realm within reality
, and this dreamlike realm has seeped into my life. I'm lost, as if I've exhausted
myself in the search, as if I'm still hesitating and wandering the streets of dreams, lost in the thick fog. My thoughts, in the instant my heart slightly opens
, are lost...
I don't know if this counts as love. My mother doesn't acknowledge it, and I'm completely bewildered. When I almost hysterically
rush across my mother's vast grassland, all I know is that the caresses that bring me pleasure, the intoxicating whispers,
and the lingering melodies and rhythms that unleash my emotions—everything in the world seems incomparably beautiful and radiant
, incomparably pure and harmonious. In the great fusion and harmony of heaven and earth, I am melted and merged, heaven and earth becoming
one. In my intoxication, I forgot my father's existence; in my infatuation, I forgot the ethics of a son. It felt like
a fleeting moment, yet also like an eternity. I can't recall how many days I've enjoyed such
warmth, sweetness, and beauty…
I also don't know if, as my mother said, one day I'll find that comfort no longer so
intoxicating, those whispers no longer so moving, and my mother's jade-like body will gradually turn yellow, her
vibrant blooms will wither, and her firm, full breasts will shrivel like winter fruit. Then I will understand.
I was startled, bewildered, and terrified… Perhaps one day, the sun, which I thought would never set, will
finally fall, and I will stand alone on the vast, twilight-shrouded earth, crying out to the boundless sky in solitude.
Finally, my father called. They had arrived safely at their destination and had set up camp, telling us
not to worry. My mother happily lay back in bed, the radiance of love bathing everything. For the first time, I
gazed at my mother with rational eyes. Her emerald face was filled with auspicious peace; asleep with her eyes closed, she was a holy and beautiful
goddess! Tranquil and clear, dazzling and mesmerizing. I gently placed my hand on my mother's mons pubis
, her crescent-shaped vulva… overflowing my thirsty heart. My heart slowly
settled in this stillness, slowly drifting into sleep…
*** *** *** ***
When you bite into an apple, you say to it in your heart: "Your seed will live within me,
your future sprouts will grow in my heart, your fragrance will become my breath, and we will spend
all the years together happily."
—Kahlil Gibran, *The Prophet
* *** *** *** ***
I looked at my mother sitting before her dressing table. In the mirror, her thin, arched eyebrows were furrowed, like a sorrowful young
woman. Her thin lips parted slightly, a soft, gentle smile revealing a row of neat, white teeth. A few
faint lines appeared at the corners of her lips, adding a touch of shyness and apprehension to her smile. The dressing table was
an antique style, made of red sandalwood, and along with the huge red sandalwood bed and bedside table, it had all been brought from her mother's family home
. Several cosmetics and perfumes were on the dressing table, but she seemed never to have used them; they were simply displayed.
She was naturally beautiful and needed no adornment.
My mother was skilled at playing the pipa, her singing melodious and clear. I felt that the description in Bai Juyi's "The Song of the Pipa"—"The sounds of the pipa
are varied and melodious, like pearls falling onto a jade plate"—was most fitting. My homeroom teacher, Wang Shan, was also a Chinese language
teacher. She always favored me in the class, which I think stemmed from this poem, "The Song of the Pipa."
I remember last year when we were studying Bai Juyi's "The Song of the Pipa," Wang Shan happened to ask me a question about my
views on the poem. I spoke eloquently. I said that "The Song of the Pipa" is not only a vibrant and original narrative
poem, but if it were rewritten as a novel, it would also be an outstanding short story. This is because it has a tight plot structure and
vivid character descriptions; it can be said to be a true work of pure literature, a work that one can read again and again without getting tired of it.
Perhaps it was from that day on that Wang Shan changed me from the class monitor to the language arts representative, and from then on, she entered my life.
My private life.
"Qiao'er, what are you staring at? Aren't you going to school?" My mother smiled slightly when she saw me looking at her.
She was so beautiful when she smiled! Her soft features had a classical splendor, yet they were so lively and charming.
"Ah, Mom, you're so beautiful..." I abruptly withdrew my unrestrained gaze and my wild thoughts. "Yes
, I'm going to school today. Teacher Wang Shan said she's assigning some homework." Because of the snow, the school had to
give us a sudden holiday, and the classes hadn't had time to assign homework. "Well, then hurry up and go. Why are you dawdling here
..." My mother scolded, tapping my nose. Her hand exuded a cool fragrance, and
the smile on her lips was graceful and subtle, like a crape myrtle flower in the corner of the wall.
My heart fluttered, and I pulled her into my arms. At that moment, the light was dim, and I was like the morning mist, my vision blurred
, a scene that seemed real, illusory, and dreamlike. "Go away, haven't you had enough after a whole night of tossing and turning..." My mother playfully pushed me away, turned and
walked towards the kitchen, still humming: "In the prime of youth, one wanders the ends of the earth, adding a year, losing a year. As
dusk approaches, the crows fly home, opening one window screen, closing another. Rain falls softly, wind whispers gently, gathering fallen petals, scattering
them. Bored and helpless, I sing a pipa tune, pluck a pipa tune. My body has nowhere to rest, I call out to
my nemesis, I curse my nemesis." I recognized it as Feng Weimin's Northern Double Tune from the Ming Dynasty—the Toad Palace Melody "Four Scenes of a Woman's Lament."
Her voice was clear and melodious, and for a moment, I was captivated...
*** *** *** ***
I pushed open the door, and my eyes were immediately brightened. The world that had been hidden from me by the tiled roof and paper windows last night was now a pure white expanse. Yesterday, the courtyard
, littered with fallen leaves and looking quite messy, was now covered by a blanket of snow, like a huge
, white handkerchief. The two jujube trees that my mother and I planted together stood majestically, clad in silver armor,
proudly stretching their snow-white arms towards the sky. The river, less than ten meters away, was frozen solid, and the sound of its flow was inaudible.
I didn't cross the bridge, nor was a bridge necessary; the other side was open field. I walked through the snow towards the school.
Wang Shan's house wasn't actually in the school grounds, but behind it. It was a three-room house with stone walls and a tiled roof
. When I arrived, Wang Shan was wearing an apron, her beautiful hands sticky as she rolled out dumpling wrappers.
Her cheeks were rosy. "Come in quickly, it must be really cold outside. Look at your little face, it's frozen so
bad!" I smiled at her, bowed, and went into her kitchen. The room was dimly lit.
On the wall facing the door hung a faded New Year's picture: a chubby child riding on a goldfish with a curled tail. In the center of the room was a wooden square table and
several benches. In the corner lay a pile of unwashed clothes, with Wang Shan's bra prominently displayed on top.
"Let's eat here for lunch. Wash your hands and help me roll out dumpling wrappers," Wang Shan said, having already taken off her apron
and changed into a cotton undershirt. She also brought in a brazier, which was burning brightly. Her naturally slightly
wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her full, charming face shone unusually brightly in the firelight
.
"And him?" I often called her husband that, in our world. She
gazed intently at me, my reflection swirling in the depths of her dark pupils. She tiptoed and gently kissed
my lips. In an instant, I felt a warm current flow through my body, and my heart seemed
to stop beating on this winter morning.
"He's on duty. It's just the two of us today." She brushed the snowflakes off my coat. "The snow was
so heavy. I finally waited for it to stop before calling you." Her voice trembled slightly, like
notes floating in the wind.
She was thoughtful; the water in the basin was warm. After I washed my hands, she immediately nestled against my chest.
The scent of grass and the fragrance of locust blossoms filled my nostrils, so clear and tangible. "Missed me
?" I squeezed her small hand. She smiled sweetly and shyly, lowered her head slightly, and then looked steadily into my
eyes. I searched for the tenderness she offered in that clear spring. Memories, like scenes from a movie, kept replaying in my
mind. I felt uneasy from time to time, wondering if everything I could grasp now
was actually just an illusion. But reality often knocks on my heart's door. I clearly remember that after that
passionate yet tender lovemaking, she held me tightly and said, "I hope you can remember me, remember today,
remember how we loved each other."
"Come on, let's make the dumplings first, then prepare some soup. I know you can't swallow without soup."
Wang Shan married into our family from southern Jiangsu three years ago. She loves to cook, and she's quite skilled at it. She also loves to write poetry.
In the world of poetry, she's like an innocent child, naive as if untouched by worldly affairs. It is precisely because of this that
she often clashes with her husband.
"A 'request'? Did you write this poem recently?" I picked up a piece of paper from the table and read aloud, "I want to
love once / I want to walk on the edge of life / to see the scenery on the other side of the coast / to see the roses and
sails passing by / I want to love once / like a little green insect loving / the wet flowers / to love once, I want to /
drink the honey water to the last drop."
"Shh, listen, that's the sound of snowflakes." She put her index finger to her lips, her clear eyes shimmering
with a faint view of the distance. She didn't speak anymore, but just rested her head on my shoulder. I put my hands around her shoulders
, pulling her closer; her body was soft and warm. We kissed.
Her tongue was sweet, with a slight minty taste, I think it was because of the toothpaste. It swirled,
reaching straight into my throat, demanding, with fearlessness and infatuation.
"Your mom knows, does she know?" Her trembling lips whispered in my ear, "
She answered the phone this morning, I... I'm a little scared."
Her eyes were like the darkest night, deep and unfathomable, as if waiting for something, yet afraid of something.
"Silly boy, how could she know? Don't be afraid. I'm here." In her presence, our ages seemed to reverse
; it wasn't that she was twelve years older than me, but rather that I was older than her.
"Oh, that's good. Hold me tighter..." Her dim eyes seemed to be dripping with oil, shining brightly
like seashells shimmering in the sunlight.
Perhaps because she was wearing too many clothes, it took some effort to remove her underwear. Her pubic hair was dark...
Clumps of hair, like a vast forest, made it hard to imagine, judging by her appearance alone, that
the pretty Chinese teacher who loudly recited "Lotus Pond at Night" in class possessed such abundant and thriving hair.
Her labia were purplish-black and turned outwards, darker than her original pale mons pubis, not very attractive.
I first tried inserting one index finger, then my middle and ring fingers, but to my surprise
, I brought out some wet, sticky fluid. "Ah, you just did it with him?" I was somewhat surprised, somewhat angry
, though somewhat unreasonable, after all, they were a legitimate married couple.
"Ah, I'm sorry... this morning when I was about to leave, he, he insisted... saying..." She apologized,
her face full of guilt, her tone becoming somber, perhaps sensing my coldness and dissatisfaction.
"Stop talking. Come on, open it wider..." I commanded, placing one of her slender, white thighs
on the wooden table. The bench beneath her creaked, and I could clearly see
the flow of bright red blood beneath her skin. At that moment, her face radiated the delicate beauty of spring flowers and the brilliance of the morning glow. Soon, a gurgling sound came from her vagina
, and a sticky stream of semen meandered from her narrow slit, like a
wisteria vine hanging over the water, a purple like that of a misty village in a painting.
Her fingers gently touched my huge penis, pulling the foreskin back to the base, her little finger touching my
glans, murmuring lewd words. I covered her mouth with my hand, my body burning with heat, feeling myself
sinking into swirling eddies. I suddenly shouted and thrust inside.
Overall, she was a woman with an inwardly horny nature, a fact I had noticed long ago. She's easily aroused
; once she gets excited, it's uncontrollable, and she has to release it all. I remember the last time I had her
Chinese class, halfway through, she suddenly told everyone to study on their own, and then asked me to go with her to her dorm to get my lab assignment
. Actually, she was just getting excited.
The venomous snake lurking inside me resurfaced, devouring my peaceful mind; the once smooth
river now had passionate banks. With each thrust, my soul transcended my body, sensing
the pulse of sex, listening to her deep moans as we spun. With the lift of her hips, I easily brought
her to orgasm, but this was only the first time; she wouldn't be exhausted without at least three times.
I wonder if all outwardly delicate women are so passionate and unrestrained when aroused. Wang Shan
wasn't conventionally beautiful, yet she possessed a captivating charm. At first glance, she resembled an Indian woman, with light brown skin,
large, deep-set eyes, a delicate nose, and a few freckles that added to her allure. To outsiders
, Wang Shan's marriage seemed perfect: her husband a doctor, and she a teacher—a match made in heaven.
However, happiness isn't solely created by professions; personality plays a crucial role.
She cried out again. This time, the cry was choked with sobs, a heartfelt ache—the prelude to another climax
. Without touching her, I knew the bench beneath her was damp. With each tremor, her
vulva oozed a lustful fluid, which, despite my penis pressing tightly against it, was futile.
Looking down slightly, the way her labia parted was incredibly erotic; with each thrust of my penis, a
pale, fleshy fold mixed with a viscous fluid was revealed. I closed my eyes and began another series of rapid, rhythmic
thrusts. Only a controlled, rhythmic motion could create the desired effect. "Tell me, isn't my way of thrusting better than his?" I changed
my angle, pushing in at a slight tilt. Her entire body curled up, her legs intertwined, her gaze hazy yet filled
with joy and pleasure.
"Of course… Qiao, just being with you, even if you don't penetrate me, just talking to me for a while, I… I
'll still feel pleasure…" I didn't know if she was lying or trying to please me, but I
could feel her emotional struggle and release from the spasms within her vaginal walls. It was a near-hysterical passion, overwhelming and overwhelming
.
"Shan, I'm going to fuck your asshole." I deliberately used a vulgar language; at this moment, her dependence
and obedience to me were undeniable. My middle finger entered her anus, and although it was only halfway in, I could still feel
the contraction of her anus.
"Ah, can I insert this?" Her delicate chin lifted, the few freckles taking on
a purplish-red hue in her excitement.
I remained silent. I simply thrust my middle finger in and out, back and forth dozens of times. "Yes, baby, listen to me,
come on, lie down..." I turned her over; her buttocks were flushed red under the firelight, a few
pubic hairs scattered around her anus, listless and with a hint of pity, just like her eyes at that moment.
"Shan, you have so much hair, even here." I leaned over her, gently kissing her earlobe
, blowing hot breath into her ear. "After we're done, I'll pluck these hairs, okay?"
She cried. Her whole body trembled, convulsed, and clear tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. I comforted her,
holding her hands tightly. "Shan, your anus is much tighter than your vagina... Does it hurt? Just bear with it for a while..."
The bench supported our combined weight. Her legs were spread apart on either side of the bench, her face half-turned on it.
I heard her heavy, labored breathing and moans like a spirit wandering in the snow.
The school auditorium bell rang ten times; it was already ten o'clock in the morning. Wang Shan shuddered, her
anus tightening, squeezing my penis painfully. I thrust violently again, rubbing with an
unstoppable masculine power. Her hair fell loose, obscuring half her face,
trembling in response to my rough, almost savage caresses. This was a muddy road with no end; if
there was any, it was only when you were exhausted. So I let out a long sigh, thrusting hard,
motionless, until all my semen was injected into that muddy road.
**********
...

At that innocent age, like a newborn tiger, I experienced another fiery nightmare. Then, those dreams, like
colorful soap bubbles, vanished one by one before I could even understand them, leaving no trace.
"Qiao'er, your uncle is coming today. Go to the old Shandong restaurant, Zhiweizhai, and buy some braised eggs and noodles
. Remember to also get some spiced vegetables and sausages. Then go to the Children's Palace and ask your mother to come home and make noodles." My father sat in
the old rattan chair in the courtyard, his eyes fixed on the exquisite, strangely shaped animal head on the roof ridge. Behind him, on the clothesline, were my mother's
brightly colored underwear, her delicately trimmed petticoat, and our clothes.
A half-empty cup of tea sat on the round table in front of him, and my father held a half-smoked cigarette, the smoke curling intermittently.
"Okay, I'll go right now." I put down my textbook, extinguished the sandalwood incense stick on the table, and closed
the door behind me. My eldest uncle and father were classmates, but one specialized in academia while the other pursued a career in government; both achieved
considerable success in their respective fields.
I followed the stream bank, my feet sinking into the soft sand. A passenger car sped past on the opposite
road, kicking up clouds of dust. It seemed to be heading towards the Children's Palace. My mother
ran a pipa (a traditional Chinese stringed instrument) training class there, and many children in town enrolled during their holidays, drawn by her reputation.
The Children's Palace was located on Xiaoli East Road in the town, in an old house rented by the government. Inside the fence in front of the house was a
large, overgrown, and long-neglected flower bed, with only a lonely clump of canna lilies leaning against the corner. I pushed open the small fence,
walked through the narrow corridor, and my nostrils filled with a faint fragrance. My mother had a bedroom at the end of the corridor, where she took her midday
nap.
I stood outside her dimly lit door, wondering if she was resting now that classes were over.
Just as I was about to knock, I heard soft voices.
"Why are you here? Where's your sister-in-law?" My mother's voice was low and
gentle, coming through the worn latticed window. "She didn't come. I came to Maolin for a meeting and stopped by to see you." Her voice was unfamiliar
, though she tried to lower it, its depth was still evident. "Hmm, so you came all this way. Maolin is
thirty kilometers from here, and the road is bad." My mother's soft tone seemed to hold a hint of warmth.
I was a little surprised and tiptoed to peek through the window. The room was quite dark, requiring lights even during the day. I
saw a thin, almost black, pale green wire hanging from the high ceiling above the table. The flower-shaped, milky
-white lampshade looked like an upside-down, blooming white lotus from afar, casting soft light on my mother's fair face.
A burly man sat opposite her; I couldn't see his face, as his back was to me.
"It's been so many years, sister, you haven't changed, you're as beautiful as ever." The man slowly reached out and
grasped my mother's hand. My mother trembled, her face flushing red. "Don't do this, brother..."
I froze. Could this be my uncle? What's he doing here? Dad thought he didn't know the way. I
was about to call out when I suddenly saw my uncle grab my mother's hand and kiss it repeatedly. I was stunned.
What was going on?
"No, don't do this, brother." My mother stood up, trying to pull her hand back. Her head hit the lampshade
, and for a moment, the whole room was filled with swaying figures. "It's been so long...you, you still..." My mother left
the table, walked to the edge of the bed, and faced the wall. I saw her shoulders shaking; she was clearly emotional.
"Only after loving do you know how deep the feeling is, only after being drunk do you know how strong the wine is. Sister, actually, I'm also very sad. Do you know
how hard these days are..." My uncle choked up, and a strange smell hung in the air.
"Brother, don't be like this... You know, I love Yu Nong, I'll love him forever. We... we... that's all
in the past, forget it." Mother cried too, taking out a handkerchief to wipe her tears.
"Sigh, if... if I hadn't brought him home back then, you wouldn't have met, and you wouldn't..." My
uncle walked behind Mother, his large figure blocking her view.
"No, brother, even if I hadn't known him, we could never be together. One day I'll get married, and you
'll get married..." Mother's voice trembled like willow catkins in the wind, weak, no longer her usual gentleness.
"Do you remember Red Leaf Valley?" My uncle took off his black-rimmed glasses, and in the dim light,
I could vaguely see a strange melancholy and desolation floating in his eyes. Mother was silent. She slowly turned around, gazing
at him. "Don't say anymore, I've long forgotten Red Leaf Valley." Her eyes were hazy and unfocused, as if shrouded
in a light blue veil.
"You won't forget, I believe you." My uncle cupped my mother's chin. "I love your eyes, like a
pair of black butterflies constantly fluttering their wings."
My mother cried, two streams of tears welling up and dripping onto my uncle's hand. "
What nonsense are you spouting now, brother? We can't make the same mistake again." At first, she only choked back sobs, but then she couldn't stop
. She bent forward and wailed. It was the first time I had ever seen my mother cry so intensely. My uncle gently
reached out and stroked her thin shoulder, then pulled her into his arms.
My mother slumped into my uncle's arms, trembling, sobbing silently. Her tears and breath
soaked my uncle's shirt. I saw my uncle's hands roaming over my mother's body, as if
searching for something. "Good sister, don't you love me anymore?" I saw my uncle pull
a black bra from my mother's bosom and sniff it intensely. "Didn't you love me very much?"
"Ah, brother... back then, I was young and just admired you. You could do everything. When I was bullied at school,
you were the one who beat those bad students so they wouldn't dare come back... But, but later..." My mother burst into tears and collapsed onto
the bed.
"That year in Red Leaf Valley, we went to pick wild vegetables. You squatted under a tree, bent over, and stuck your little bottom out
. When I saw your plump bottom, I couldn't resist the stimulation, so..." My uncle was handsome and had a loud voice, unlike
my father's refined appearance. In comparison, my uncle was more masculine.
"No... brother, don't say anymore." My mother's skirt was lifted up to her waist by my uncle, revealing her red lace
panties.
"Later, we often did it in the pile of bellflowers behind the house. Sister, your little hole was so tight back then, it gripped so tightly..."
"Brother, it hurts so much..." The eldest uncle pulled his mother's underwear down to her heels, revealing her pubic hair
under the light, smooth and neatly spread across her mons pubis. "Mom found out later and beat me, do you
remember?"
The mother's eyes were languid, her flushed face filled with confusion, clearly her thoughts drifting to
the past. "How could I forget? We were so scared then, kneeling before Mom, begging her not to
tell Dad, or he would kill us."
"Yes, Mom didn't tell, she only asked us not to continue. But... but back then,
we were so close... Sister, one night I climbed into your bed again, maybe I was too loud, Dad finally
found out. In his rage, he broke my leg, leaving me bedridden for three months. Sister, I still remember
you secretly coming to see me every night..." The eldest uncle's eyes reddened, tears welling up, clearly also immersed in memories
.
My mother trembled all over, her legs spread wide, and between them was my uncle's hand, which was constantly manipulating
her labia and clitoris, causing her body to sway and her lips to utter indistinct words. "Yes,
I was so afraid you would be crippled like this. Later, you, you don't know... later, Dad forced you to go
to school outside, and that's how you met Yu Nong..."
A strange turmoil stirred within me, red blood flowing merrily through my veins, impulsive and
restless. This excitement coursed through my entire body; I wanted to shout, but only indistinct and
meaningless sounds came out, merely escaping from my throat.
This was the second time I had seen my mother's naked body exposed to the air. It must have been a pearly
gray of frosty morning, a pale yellow of late spring, or a cherry-red hue—images that have been deeply etched into my
memory ever since. Her fair and clean face shone with a solitary, serene beauty, her dark eyes carrying the composure of a young woman,
walking proudly through the dusty world.
Her uncle thrust his hips forward with abandon, his penis brazenly penetrating her deep, narrow valley, the simple wooden
bed emitting a pitiful groan. Her mother's hands, raised, rested casually on his neck, like gracefully dancing
water plants, passionately performing their dance in the wind. "We'll go to hell, brother..." Her confessional moans
floated like notes on a musical staff, like the murmur of autumn insects, like the gentle lapping of oars in a Jiangnan water town, each drop
weaving through the passage of time.
"Oh...no, it can't be like this..." Her mother's two pale legs swayed on her uncle's shoulders, her toenails
painted a deep purple-red, filled with a sinful hue in the flickering light. I
closed my eyes in anguish, unable to believe my eyes. The tunnel my father should have been traversing was now carrying
a train that shouldn't be there…
But… I couldn't deny that this sinful color was so dazzling, like brilliant
fireworks, blooming in my youthful sky, lingering for a long time. The two people immersed in their incestuous world didn't hear
my heavy breathing and labored respiration. My hands alternated between masturbating, my throbbing penis growing larger than usual
, a stimulation to my fragile yet lustful nerves more intense than peeping at my mother and father making love.
The venomous snake lurking deep within my heart slowly awoke from its hibernation. It first peered tentatively at this strange
world, then, slithering and flicking its tongue, it suddenly bit me. At that moment, I was at my most vulnerable and helpless
.
The air, breaking the tranquility, was thinner than usual; the lush greenery of the Cultural Palace was a damp,
misty green. As the air currents shifted, the fragrance of various flowers and plants drifted outside—jasmine, osmanthus
, and seven-mile fragrance—or a mixed scent of herbs wafting from somewhere, mingling with the smells of sweat and semen from inside,
lingering in my throat, impossible to dispel. My heart lingered in this desolate scene, feeling as if I had lost something
important that would never be found again.
My uncle kept changing positions; this frivolity was something I would never find with my father. My father
was always proper in lovemaking; occasionally changing positions was just to seek some stimulation, but it was only occasional. Watching my
uncle place his hands under my mother's buttocks, while my mother's arms were wrapped around his neck, his body rising and falling, each time
heavily pounding against my chest.
My mother's pubic hair was disheveled like grass, and her vaginal fluids gushed from her genitals. The place where I was born was so
ugly, so decadent and vulgar, so disillusioned and alluring, stirring a naive
soul about to step into the halls of enlightenment. Perhaps I didn't know that this disillusionment was a kind of pleasurable self-torture. From then on, I would disdain
wasting my energy on the outdated rules and regulations of this worldly system. I would simply walk my own path, silent and still, drinking my own soup, mixing
the wine of life, making it a death with a sweet, wine-like flavor that only I could taste.
Soon, my uncle increased the force of his thrusts, plunging his dark rod into the deep corner of my mother's vagina
, remaining motionless for a long time. I heard my mother's mournful sighs, her fair and clean face radiant. My elegant and
graceful mother, her limbs sprawled out, hands and feet spread wide, revealed her lewdness and decay, the gushing
semen carrying a chilling aura.
"How is Yu Nong?" My uncle sat heavily on the bed, exhaling rough breaths. He
smoked a dark-colored pipe. "How is Qiao'er?"
"He's still not well. I've been getting him medicine according to Dad's prescription, but it's only controlling his condition." My mother
picked up the clothes that had been discarded on the floor. "Qiao'er is doing well in school, so I'm not too worried."
My uncle helped her fasten her bra. "He's not well. Is Qiao'er my son? I remember
we were doing this the day before you got married." I closed my eyes, hearing the rustling sound of my mother dressing.
I felt like the world was about to end, as if the heavens and earth were about to burn.
"Tch, Qiao'er is Yu Nong's, that's right. I had him six months after I married him. Don't think such nonsense
." My mother's slender fingers brushed away my uncle's hand that was reaching for him. "It's too late, let's go back quickly."
"You go first, I'll go later, I still have some things to take care of here." The eldest uncle's hand
gently caressed his mother's breast, a look of lingering reluctance on his face. "I wonder when I'll be able to make love to you like this again,
sister..."
"We can't come back. Don't you have a sister-in-law? How come you still don't have children?"
"Sigh, sister, you don't know, your sister-in-law is frigid. Every time I make love with her, it's like
making love with a zombie. Unlike you, you're like a furnace..." As my uncle spoke, he reached his hand into my mother's newly
put-on underwear.
"Hehe, I guess this is karma. Brother, no wonder people say your sister-in-law is a cold beauty." Seeing
my mother enjoying herself so much in his arms, I felt a
violent force within me, wantonly ravaging my soul, gnawing at youth, dreams, and love, shattering all those precious things. I really wanted to rush in and kill them all
, but I knew I couldn't!
"Soon, we will sink into the cold darkness;
farewell, our summer's too-short-lived bright light!
I can already hear the sound of sorrowful impacts,
the resounding wood falling on the courtyard stones."
I recalled the first stanza of Baudelaire's poem "Autumn Song," a turmoil of confusion and anger like boiling mud about to choke me.
My helpless eyes pleaded for help, reaching towards the sky. In these desolate, green years, not knowing where I was headed, every step
was a blur. I wanted to find an exit. For heaven had bestowed upon me a curse, demanding that I use myself
as a furnace, tempering my sharpness in the raging flames.
However, after the forging, my world would be a ruined one, my soul and thoughts bound by heavy
shackles. Even with a house full of gold, I would be adrift for life.
*** *** *** ***
Your moon-white body holds all passion, your eyes are like bluish-white
water flowing from an iceberg, containing all good and all evil…
*** *** *** ***
Without laughter, life is mute and lifeless. I seemed to understand, withdrew my gaze, casually
picked up a mirror from the table, and curled my lips… Hey, it was as if I heard that unfamiliar,
dry sound emanating from my throat for the first time, and saw for the first time the habitual twitching of the muscles on my face.
In the mirror, my upturned lips suddenly fell, and my bewildered eyes held a deep, pool-like resentment. I
threw the mirror down, and it shattered. I saw countless versions of myself muttering curses, cursing life, as if trying
to destroy something…
Mother returned, light and joyful, carrying a bouquet of vibrant red and purple flowers.
“I’m back, Yu Nong.” Father sat leisurely in his wicker chair, reading a book, without even looking up. “Why are
you only coming back now? Qiao’er looked for you but couldn’t find you. Weren’t you at the Children’s Palace?” Father believed my lie.
“Ah, Qiao’er looked for me?” Mother’s face turned ashen instantly. Her bewildered eyes lifted,
meeting mine on the second floor. But the eyes she saw were so clearly unfamiliar, filled with a simmering, violent
aura.
“I… I’ll go arrange the flowers.” Mother stammered, quickly arranging her bicycle and stiffly
walking past Father.
Mother’s steps were slow and heavy. "Qiao'er, did you go to the Children's Palace to look for me?" Her voice trembled,
like a note out of tune. I mocked her haste and unease. "No, I didn't go." My spine felt extremely
uncomfortable, stiff, and stagnant.
"No, you did. Qiao'er, otherwise your once gentle, sheep-like eyes wouldn't be so cold and heartless."
My mother gripped my arm tightly, her once clear eyes instantly turning murky. "Qiao'er, don't look at me like that,
Mom... my heart aches so much..."
"Mom, I didn't see anything." My answer was hesitant, my gaze passing through the wooden bars of the window, looking
at the green sky outside. My face must have been filled with hostility and depression. Years later, my mother often
mentioned this to me, saying that at the time, she felt as if a thousand arrows were piercing her heart. How she wished then that I would take a knife and
personally cut out her heart and flesh, but I didn't.
It was a sorrow, tinged with a gentle weariness. Perhaps at that moment, no words of grief could
express it. In my eyes, in my mouth, in every movement, everything I saw was so
heartbreaking for my mother. However, what followed was even more uncontrollable, completely beyond our imagination
. Afterwards, I felt like I had been shot, my whole body collapsing to the ground. I could only hear my mother's cries: "Ah, my
child! Qiao'er..."
My mother and I faced each other in the eerie bedroom. The wind chimes hanging on the window tinkled
crisply in the breeze, but the melodious sound did not dispel my sorrow; instead, it broke the silence between us.
"Child, please... please don't say anything..." My mother lowered her head, her voice weary and tired, her
accent veiled as if covered by something, stuttering. I looked at her pale face, her eyelids surrounded by dark circles, and her long, thick
eyelashes glistening with scattered tears.
My heart softened, and I reached out to wipe her face, warm and damp. "Mom, don't worry... I... I won't
tell Dad... but... but..." Just then, I heard my father's joyful shouts coming from the courtyard downstairs.
"Hey Peixiong, why are you only coming now? I've been waiting for you for ages!"
My mother and I were both startled. She blushed slightly, remaining silent, just staring at me blankly, her eyes seeming to hold a special emotion—pity, tenderness, pain, regret, and helplessness... Suddenly 　　, an indescribable lust surged within
me . That ambiguous look and blurred expression transformed 　　into a series of erotic scenes in my eyes. In my eyes, my mother was naked. I abruptly tore open her collarless short-sleeved 　　top, revealing her black bra. 　　My mother gasped, "Ah, Qiao'er..." Her beautiful cheeks lost their color. "No, don't do this 　　..." 　　I smiled coldly, my face contorted in pain. "Take it off, take off your pants, quick 　　..." My voice was hoarse and strained, yet tinged with excitement. I eagerly embraced my mother's petite body. 　　Her bra slipped to the ground under my pull, revealing her delicate breasts. My mother moaned in pain, weak 　　and pitiful. Her fragile, tense skin, like a white sail ruffled by the wind, gleamed with a rosy sheen under my caresses 　　.

Our blood was boiling. Downstairs, my father called out, "Qiao'er, come down and see your uncle!"
I thrust into my mother's vagina, warm and moist, just as I had imagined. My mother's hands were braced against the windowsill
, her long, black hair cascading over her thin shoulders, undulating like waves with my thrusts. I didn't remove
her panties, but simply pushed them aside, then plunged my hard penis deep inside. My mother
buried her face in her hands, moaning, enduring my fierce and powerful thrusts like a tiger cub descending from the mountain. My rapid, rhythmic penetrations
were like those of a seasoned lover; I teased every line of her defense, destroying it one by one.
At my father's renewed shout, I answered heavily, "I'll be right down..."
The shadows of dusk slowly unfolded, and I felt waves of chill run through my body. I gritted
my teeth and ejaculated a stream of semen. In that instant, I knew I had become an adult!
************
Dinner was sumptuous. In a harmonious atmosphere, I obediently raised my glass and exchanged greetings with my uncle. My uncle
pointed at me, then turned to my father and said, "Look how big the bridge has become. No wonder we're all getting old." I
glanced at my mother; her face was still as pale as paper, her gaze fixed on the distant, hazy mist.
She suddenly stood up. "After you've finished eating, make some tea. I'm going to the kitchen." She gathered the bowls, chopsticks, cups, and plates on the table
, placed them in a large wooden tub, and carried it to the kitchen. My father and uncle continued
talking, and I glanced sideways and saw my uncle's gaze lingering thoughtfully behind my mother.
"Dad, Uncle, you two talk, I'll go help Mom." I followed my mother, her slender and alluring figure
constantly attracting me. I knew what it would be like if awakened desire broke free of its cage
.
"Ah, how did you get in here? Don't disturb us..." My mother tried to break free from my embrace in surprise, her
expression like that of a wounded fawn.
"They're having a good chat. Mom, let me help you." I slipped my fingers into my mother's vagina, stirring
the pool of spring water. "Mom, there's my water in here..." There was another sentence I didn't say: there was also
my uncle's filthy fluid mixed in.
"You, you only know how to bully Mom, I might as well be dead..." My mother was a little angry, her expression of
sorrow and anger striking my soft heart.
"I'm sorry, Mom. You know I love you." I kissed her delicate earlobe affectionately. Her
face flushed red and then turned pale, her shy expression reflected on her face like clouds reflected in water.
"Qiao'er, we can't go on like this, Mom will die..." My mother's face turned red to her ears;
I will never forget that embarrassing moment. I held her soft body. "Mom, no, I want you to live forever, we
still have a long time to love each other." Her underwear had been changed to a peach-colored pair. I tried to pull it down,
but my mother squeezed her thighs together tightly, refusing to let go.
"Qiao'er, loosen your grip, Mom can't breathe." Perhaps hearing my father and the others
talking loudly in the courtyard, she relaxed a little, leaning against the stove, her gaze hazy with a lost in
thought.
"Okay, Mom. Actually, I've liked you for a long time. You know what? I once saw you and Dad making love, and from that
day on, I fell deeply in love with you." I knew I was telling the truth, from the bottom of my heart, because
this was my first love. But things didn't go as planned; I unknowingly fell in love with my mother
and considered her my first love. "Nonsense. When did you see that? How come I didn't know?" My mother
looked at me with a mixture of surprise and shyness, her innocent face showing girlish curiosity.
"Silly Mom, if you knew, it wouldn't be like I was peeking. Let's not talk about this anymore, Mom, you're so wet...
" A trickle of lustful fluid seeped from my fingers, like spring rain nourishing the earth. I knew my mother's emotions
were mixed with shame, sorrow, and bitterness, yet also filled with passion and joy. "Mmm... Bridge, I'm really going to die
..." My penis pierced her firm vulva like a plow, trying to dig a source of life,
to break down the soil, to fertilize it. I wanted to make its fertile fields bloom with flowers, to give it new understanding and enlightenment
... One soul was stripped naked, and another soul was reborn.
I buried my head between my mother's breasts, inhaling the fragrant milk scent, while my hair was held in her hands,
stinging and stimulating my sexual nerves even more. My powerful thrusts made my mother, sitting on the stove, keep
retreating, but my hands held her legs. I watched my penis move in and out, the surging water, the
gushing lustful flow, vividly writing a new diary under the stirring of my young penis. "Faster, faster
, Mom can't take it anymore... Don't be so rough... Don't..." My mother let out a wanton moan,
sobbing, seductive and low, like a lark flying over a flame.
In this movement filled with desire and struggle, I captured a resonance of spiritual pleasure. I realized that sex
could be so beautiful, and the sounds of intercourse were the most beautiful music in life. I felt my mother's moans during her climax
were like a string of silver bells trembling in the wind, like the fragrance of flowers, constantly intoxicating me.
"Is he staying here tonight?" I asked my mother, who was gushing thick, lustful fluids. Her vulva was flushed and
alluring, like a plump, round lychee.
"Of course, you can sleep with your uncle tonight, okay?" My mother's eyes held a questioning and pleading look.
She hoped that I would get along well with my uncle, after all, he was family.
"No, Mom, you know I'm used to sleeping alone. How about this, I'll just set up a bed in the living room."
I couldn't refuse my mother's wish; her sorrowful eyes were like a silent weapon, capable of striking me at any moment.
"Hmm, bridge... thank you..." My mother's smile broadened, and her beautiful face, radiant with sunshine, deeply
moved me. My heart skipped a beat.
"Mom, come on, I've thought of a position, lift your leg up."
"Don't do it again, don't you even look at the location?" My mother firmly refused, and I could tell she was a little worried about being
discovered.
"Look, they're chatting happily." I peeked into the yard at my father and uncle, and lifted my mother's left leg...
Her legs were wrapped around my waist, and I thrust my penis in, the "pop" sound filling every corner of the kitchen
. My mother's eyes were slightly closed, a faint smile playing on her lips, and a few incoherent murmurs
escaped from her bright red lips, unlike her usual singing, yet all the more captivating.
*** *** *** ***
Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the day, but I slowly drifted off to sleep to the fragrance of flowers wafting from outside the window. Today
had been too much, too fast, overwhelming, leaving me flustered, bewildered, and even, at one point, filled with despair. Fortunately,
my youthful self quickly withstood this agonizing test, transforming it into a possessive force, albeit
a distorted form of maternal love, which remained steadfast and unwavering.
At the moment my strong penis entered her, my mother trembled and said that this would condemn us to
eternal damnation, to the deepest hell. I didn't care. I said, "Mom, even if we were beasts, we still have maternal love, like
wolves, mother and son committing incest to procreate." That time in the kitchen, when I knelt down to drink her gushing, thick fluid
, she was shy. When I looked up and said this nectar was the water of life, the endless flow of maternal love,
she trembled with emotion.
Reflecting on the whole process, I used my youthful enlightenment, my unique talent, to interpret and understand my love; perhaps
my mother was trying to do the same at the same time. As she responded to my thrusts in countless ways, through
the contortions of her body, I could feel her intense love flowing subtly into my sea of passion. That day, at sixteen,
I was intoxicated, intoxicated, and plunged into an abyss.
*** *** *** ***
At first, there was a rustling of footsteps, which I didn't pay attention to. Then, it seemed as if a breeze was flowing into the living room through the window cracks.
I felt a slight chill and woke up. I saw my mother tiptoe past the living room cupboard. Her slender
waist, bathed in the moonlight, seemed draped in a pale, moon-white veil. What was she going to do?
I closed my eyes, snoring softly. My mother approached me, silently watching me for a long time. I heard
her low, soft breathing, carrying a faint, feminine fragrance. The living room was silent, the air filled with the delicate
scent of orchids. My mother sighed softly, then turned and went back inside.
However, to my shock and anger, she went to my room. The door opened softly and
closed softly.
I lay in bed, feeling a nameless sorrow—for my father, for myself, for this deep love. I
got up and went to my father's room. He was already snoring loudly, his alcohol intake failing him; he had long since fallen asleep.
How could he possibly imagine that his wife was having an affair? And this man was his best friend from school, and even more so, his own brother-in-law!
The room still carried a faint smell of semen. My father was completely naked, his lower body tattered, and the handkerchief beside him was
stained. It was clear that he and my mother had made love passionately before bed.
I could almost hear my mother's moans again, so plaintive and plaintive, and my heart trembled.
"Sister, I'm going back tomorrow. Who knows when we'll see each other again?"
"Sigh, brother, maybe in a few years. I'm thinking of going back to my parents' home after Qiao'er's college entrance exam. But you don't
live at home."
"Yes, I'm the deputy secretary of the municipal party committee in Yuzhou, but I might be transferred. Sister, Yuzhou is
n't far from here. When will you come to visit?"
"We'll see. You know I'm busy at home and can't get away. Don't quarrel with your sister-in-law at home; it won't
sound good if word gets out. Have a baby; it'll be more lively that way."
"I want to have one, but can I have one by myself? You don't know your sister-in-law; she's busy being a
TV host all day long. Sometimes, I don't even see her for a month; I can only see her on TV."
"Hehe, that's true. You two are on TV often; you can just turn on the TV to see whoever you want, it's quite convenient."
"Pah, you're just being sarcastic. Sister… you haven't aged at all these years; in fact, you
've become even more charming."
"Brother, you're here again. We're always doing these shameful things. If people find out, how will we survive
?"
"If it's shameful, no one will know. Sister, oh... you're all wet here. You and he were really going at it, were n't
you..."
"He drank too much last night, and he couldn't get it out for ages. He was up all night. Brother, let's stop
... I'm tired, you should rest too."
"You're so thoughtful, you knew I was waiting for you."
"Look at you! If I hadn't come, you wouldn't have slept all night. Don't, don't be so loud
..."
"Hey, sister, it feels so different with you, so exciting. Every time I do it with you, I
feel like I'm in heaven..."
"Ah, you only care about the thrill, you don't care about the other person's life... Oh, brother... a little further back,
a little deeper..."
My mother's soft voice came through the crack in the door. Although the doors in the house weren't locked, I didn't want
to open them and see this heartbreaking scene again. I could picture my mother kneeling on the bed, my uncle's penis thrusting
between her legs. Perhaps it was a possessive mentality, but I never considered that my mother didn't just belong to
me; she belonged to all our relatives.
I sat sullenly on the sofa in the living room, watching the moon's shadow dance on the ceiling, motionless for a long time.
I don't know how much time passed before my mother came out of my room. Seeing me sitting upright on the sofa, she was startled,
almost screaming. She quickly covered her mouth, looking at me with surprise and panic, stunned. "Qiao'er
, you, you...you're not asleep..." she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. She glanced back at
the room in surprise, then turned back to look at me.
"He's asleep?" I was surprised by my composure, far beyond my years.
"Yes, he was tired too. As soon as we finished...he collapsed..." My mother's face blushed like peach blossoms in March,
blooming with the fragrance of a quiet night. "But you don't seem tired, Mom." As soon as I finished speaking, I saw my mother's face
turn deathly pale. She trembled, looking at me with a sorrowful expression.
I said nothing more. When my mother collapsed into my arms, she was as soft and warm as a cat, her moans carrying a particularly tender quality.
The meaning carried a hint of pleading and ingratiation, yet also a touch of comfort and tranquility. I inserted two fingers,
probing inside for a while; the warm, moist vulva rippled with thick, crystalline fluid. I knew it contained
the semen of my father and uncle, and perhaps even the remnants of my passionate ejaculation that evening. My mother glanced at me sideways, her gaze lustful and bewildered
. "Not here, in case someone comes out and sees us. Let's go downstairs."
"Okay, let's go to your music room." I picked her up and slowly walked down the stairs. She wrapped her arms around my
neck, her eyes filled with deep affection.
The first floor was divided into three rooms: one for storage, one for the kitchen, and one for my mother's music room.
Various musical instruments were displayed inside: a piano, a clarinet, a trumpet, a trombone, and mostly a pipa.
The ticking of the clock echoed in the darkness, serious and slow, just like the sound of my lovemaking with my mother at that moment. The quiet
night air in the music room was filled with the faint fragrance of purple chrysanthemums, mingled with the unique milky scent of my mother. Her low moans
were like footsteps on moss, her soft cries like the sobs of a baby. My mother straddled me, and I sat
in an old-fashioned armchair. With each rise and fall of my body, her breasts bounced
up and down like rabbits. The chair creaked, and my mother hummed as if in a trance. Her long hair danced
like willow branches in a gentle breeze, swaying back and forth. At the height of her passion, she kneaded her breasts with her small hands
.
My penis plunged deep into my mother's vagina, each thrust revealing its firmness and thickness. There
was an undercurrent within, trying to carry my hardness into that deep sea. My penis struggled inside,
winding its way forward. Though there were hidden paths, I pressed on relentlessly, unstoppable. I cried out, a deep
pain coursing through me, releasing every pent-up resentment and hatred within me. My energy was overwhelming, so much so that in
my excitement, my mother suddenly leaned on my shoulder and bit me hard.
I didn't cry out; I held her tightly, my penis pressed firmly against her firm vulva, deep, deep.
＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊
Greedy eyes always seem gloomy, as if gazing down at the beehive that must be destroyed to extract honey.
Instinct has long been etched into their bones; desire has become an incurable disease.
＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊
I wrapped myself in an old coat and stood outside at the window, looking at the sky. The sky was gray, with only a thin layer of
clouds, but the sun was nowhere to be seen. A faint, earthy scent wafted from afar. I opened my arms, welcoming this
overwhelming joy. Yesterday's heavy snow seemed to have washed away all the filth and chaos of the world, leaving the earth fresh and pristine
, bringing with it a sense of joy and tranquility.
"Qiao'er, come in for dinner," my mother called affectionately. To outsiders, we were a
model mother and son, kind and filial, with excellent relations with our neighbors. The neighbor's mother, Erleng, always
praised me in front of the other aunties, her smile beaming, her voice clear and melodious, with a lingering
echo—truly befitting a former Yue opera actress.
"What would you like to eat, Mom?" I asked, pushing open the door and entering. My mother, wearing a deep red cotton coat, her hair
flowing like a waterfall, was setting the table. My mother's noodles were the most
delicious I've ever tasted. She used pork head bones to make a rich broth, then cooked the noodles in it. She'd cut the meat from the bones into small pieces, dip them in soy sauce and
minced garlic, and eat them with wine. The joy of this family meal was indescribable. To borrow
a joke from *Xiaolin Guangji*, "It was so comfortable it made me feel like I was floating on clouds!"
My mother watched me wolf down my food with great interest. "Qiao'er, you can't eat any more. Look at
your body, you can't get any bigger." I was strong and powerful, unlike my father's frail physique. Although my mother had said
I was her son, I had inherited the ruggedness of her maternal family's men. My face was the kind with rough lines
, like it had been carved with a knife, exuding masculinity. My robust physique made me a hot commodity at school.
The school was extremely good at sports, renowned in the region and even the province, especially volleyball. However,
basketball has been developing quite rapidly lately, and the basketball coach even approached me, challenging the volleyball coach to let me join
. He even asked someone to contact my mother.
I ultimately chose basketball, not because of my mother, but because of the basketball coach, or more precisely, because of
his wife, Feng Ling.
The school library isn't large, but it has a vast collection of books, especially those related to drama and painting, which perfectly suit
my taste. At first, the librarian was an old man, and I didn't pay much attention to him. It wasn't until two months ago that
a middle-aged woman took over, speaking with a strong Northeastern accent. Initially, she would try to chat me up when no one else was around, but
I didn't feel anything for her, especially since I had just started dating Wang Shan and we were deeply in love. I didn't
want to look at other women, except for my mother, of course. My real acquaintance with her was through my second aunt, who owns a bookstore
. I often interacted with her, and she had seen my photo once at my second uncle's house and said she remembered me quite well
. My second aunt betrayed me, often asking me to accompany her to discuss business. That's how I finally
learned her full name was Feng Ling.
"Mom, it's been so long since I've heard you play the pipa. How about you play something?" I asked, wiping my mouth, suddenly wanting to hear a piece.
"Sure, what should we play? How about 'Dream of the Red Chamber'?" My mother rarely asked me to
listen to her storytelling performance; she was somewhat surprised and pleased.
"Okay, this little tune will do, I love it." "Dream of the Red Chamber" has been frequently replayed on TV lately, so I think
my mother played it out of feeling. My mother smiled gently, holding the pipa, sitting gracefully in her chair, her posture elegant and graceful,
like a delicately painted portrait of a lady. ( The poem continues:
Tears of longing fall endlessly like red beans; spring willows and flowers bloom endlessly in the painted pavilion; sleep is restless after the wind and rain at dusk;
new and old sorrows are unforgettable; swallowing hard food chokes me; I cannot see my thin reflection in the mirror.) A furrowed
brow, an endless night's sleep. Ah! Just like the indistinct green mountains that cannot be hidden, the endless flowing green waters.
I rest my hand on my chin, watching my mother's gestures, skillfully twisting, plucking, kneading, and pushing, while her voice
, sweet and soothing, always makes one forget all worries and transcend worldly concerns. The melody conveys a deep, lingering sorrow and longing.
The imagery of "gentle and continuous" was vividly portrayed by the mother, especially the last line, "The endless green
water flows gently," which pushed the daughter's sorrow, grief, joy, and happiness to a climax. I
thought of the tragic fate and end of beautiful women, of the withering and decay of my daughters' beautiful faces in the wind and snow…
I gazed at my mother, mesmerized.
*** *** *** ***
My basketball coach, Fan Dong, is from Northeast China, and his wife is also from there. The whole family speaks Northeastern dialect.
Even though he's been here for many years, his accent remains unchanged; he still speaks with a strong Northeastern accent,
making communication with them particularly difficult at first. They don't live on campus; they rent a place near Gulou. The landlord's son, Qiu Li, is also in
our class.
Feng Ling and I arrived at the port on a winter night. That afternoon, the library was deserted. I had just finished copying some materials
and was about to go home. Fengling came over and asked me to help her organize some books. I couldn't refuse, so I helped her
for a long time, but we still couldn't finish. Seeing that it was getting late, I said I had to go home, and she asked me to walk her home, which I agreed to.
That night, the night was beautiful, with a few scattered stars in the woods. We walked slowly along the long educational path. Just as we
were walking and talking, a dog suddenly darted out from behind a tree, barking and panting. Fengling screamed
, her body went limp, and she almost collapsed. In that instant, I quickly caught her. The dog ran away quickly, and Fengling
fell into my arms, her gaze fixed on me. After silently staring at me for several seconds, she slowly closed her eyes.
In the pale white moonlight, her body was as radiant as the moon. Although her figure wasn't perfect, her
skin was delicate and smooth, in no way inferior to my mother's flowing skin. I kissed her slightly plump lips;
they had a strange taste, but perhaps that was it, which actually aroused my lust. I impatiently
pulled down her loose-fitting, drawstring panties. They smelled slightly fishy,
but that didn't matter.
Her hands were already gripping my penis; her cold hands quickly warmed up inside my crotch. She
skillfully stroked it, sometimes loose, sometimes tight, occasionally playing with my testicles. My penis
grew enormous under her caresses; the biting wind did nothing to diminish the heat and force of my sudden swelling. "Come on,
bitch..." I didn't take off my pants, but simply pulled my penis out of my crotch and, in the moonlight, thrust it straight
into her vagina.
She knelt on the ground, her hands gripping the roadside branches, her two plump legs spread wide,
my enormous penis penetrating her overgrown vulva. Her mons pubis was dark, not just because of the deep night, but because its base color was a dull, dark black
, the kind of naturally alluring vulva. "Ah, Xiaoqiao, you're so good..." Her moans
and cries, muffled and indistinct, sounded even more wanton and seductive in the quiet moonlight. Soon, her low moans
turned into joyful, lewd chants. I don't know if she was like this with the coach, but I knew
her first orgasm had arrived.
"How did you come so quickly, you little bitch?" I've always preferred petite, reserved women;
a rough, burly Northeastern woman like Feng Ling was just a seasoning to me. Therefore, I deliberately abused her,
hurling vulgarities at her. Strangely, she didn't seem to care; instead, she became even more energetic, wildly
shaking her body, and a second orgasm followed.
She seemed to crave the pleasure of being abused. Her gaze was intense and bold, her large breasts heaving
as she lay sprawled on the roadside grass. "Good man, you won't even help your sister put it on..."
"Come on, good sister, let me help you." I casually pinched her vulva, then picked up
her pants that had fallen to the ground. I was astonished; it was the first time I'd ever seen someone tie a belt with a rope, and in such a knot
! If she hadn't cooperated so well, I would have had to cut it with a knife to rape her. "You
tie it yourself, I don't know how to tie this kind of belt." I chuckled, helping her pull up her pants. After making love, she seemed
refined and shy, no longer the wanton woman she had been moments before, reverting to the dignified demeanor of a librarian.
"Does the coach fuck you every day?" I reached into her crotch and rummaged around for a while; it was wet and sticky
, flowing with our semen. "Hmm, more or less. But you're different from him." Feng Ling rested her head on
my chest, looking at me with deep affection. "You're more refined and knowledgeable than him.
I fell in love with you the moment I saw you in the library..."
Actually, she was older than my mother, and had a daughter in her final year at our school. Looking closely at her
lower abdomen, I saw layers of flabby flesh, pubic hair spreading like vines, and most strikingly, her breasts were enormous
and sagging—a typical physique of a middle-aged woman. Both being middle-aged women, why did my mother still
look as beautiful and youthful as a girl?
"Oh, so you want me to join the basketball team, so we'll have a better chance, right?"
"Yes. Qiao, don't laugh at me, I'm so old, and still... But I really like you, really
."
"Alright, alright, let's go. Coach Fan is waiting for you at home." I was getting impatient; she
really seemed to be serious. Even if she was playing games, I'd play with her daughter. Her daughter, Fan Susu, was considered
one of the school's most beautiful girls. Perhaps due to genetics, she was the tallest in the entire school, but unfortunately, her chest was too
flat, and many classmates secretly called her "Airport."
"Hmm, then kiss me again," she said, feigning a coquettish tone, which was honestly a little funny, but I still
went up and kissed her. Her sweaty tongue slipped inside, swirling in my mouth. Suddenly,
an idea struck me, "I'll come to your library tomorrow, remember?" Such a tongue is perfect for oral sex. The
thought of her squatting in the library, licking my penis, made me incredibly aroused, and I really wanted to finish her right there
. But I didn't want to do it in this cold, snowy weather; it just wasn't comfortable. A night like this is perfect for a dimly
lit charcoal fire, letting the flames burn brightly, illuminating two intertwined bodies.
I saw her beaming and pinched her chin. "You go first, I'll watch you leave." Her figure
appeared dark and lonely in the pale moonlight, seemingly carrying a sense of desolation. I stood in the vast field, looking at the sky.
The lonely moon seemed somewhat lost.
*** *** *** ***
The doorbell rang. Who would come on such a cold day? Mother answered and went to open the door.
It was Wang Shan. It had only been ten days since we last met, and she couldn't contain her longing; she had finally come. "Ah, it's
Teacher Wang! Come in quickly!" Mother happily led her inside. Today, she was wearing a light purple Western-style dress
, her hair loose, a floral silk scarf around her neck, dressed conservatively, and enveloped
in the snow.
"Teacher Wang, is this your first time visiting my home?" Mother took a towel and patted her down a few times,
then warmly took her hand.
"Yes, I've always wanted to visit, but I haven't had the time. I'm so sorry." Wang Shan
seemed a little disappointed that I didn't seem too happy about her arrival. Actually, ever since she started dating me, she hadn't dared to visit my home. She
always felt like she had committed a crime, seducing a young student; she felt utterly ashamed.
"Qiao'er, how can you be so rude? Why don't you add some firewood to the stove for your teacher?" My mother saw me standing there blankly and
gently nudged me. "Come on, Teacher Wang, come upstairs and sit down."
"Ah, okay. Teacher Guo, your house is so big!"
There were actually quite a few old-style houses with courtyards like mine in the town. I knew Wang Shan was making a fuss. Taking advantage of my mother's inattention, I pinched her bottom hard
. I'm sure it hurt, because Wang Shan's face showed pain. She turned around and glared
at me fiercely before following my mother upstairs.
"Come, have a cup of tea to warm yourself up." Upstairs, Mother poured a cup of green tea, steaming hot, the tea
leaves floating above and below, their bright yellow color inviting—it was Father's favorite "Quangang Huibai." "This house is quite simple
, I'm afraid Teacher Wang will laugh at us."
"Teacher Guo, please don't be so polite, you should really treat me like family." Wang Shan turned her head charmingly to look at me
. "Xiaoqiao is doing very well in his studies, and I love him very much. I think it's because you, Sister, have taught him so well. Ah,
how about I call you Sister?"
I put down the stove, walked over and sat down next to Mother, watching Wang Shan sitting opposite me rambling on. "Okay, I'm
a few years older than you, so I'll call you Sister. What are you talking about? I haven't taught him much, he's just always being naughty."
Mother blushed slightly; to outsiders, it seemed like she was being modest, but I knew she was thinking about that. I
chuckled inwardly, then reached under my mother's buttocks and tickled her a few times. She flinched, then
quickly regained her composure. "Qiao'er, I need to talk to your teacher, Ms. Wang. Go outside and play," she said, trying to shoo me away,
afraid I'd do something inappropriate. I tickled her a couple more times. "Okay, Ms. Wang, please sit down."
Just as I reached the stairs, my mother called me again. "Qiao'er, when you come back, go buy some groceries. We
'll have Ms. Wang stay for a simple meal tonight." "Okay, I'll go right now." I frowned, thinking,
what's this slut up to?
Perhaps it was the cold winter, but the streets were deserted. I muttered to myself, wandering the streets
for a long time, not really knowing what I was saying, but I had a vague feeling of unease. These two women were
so close to me; if they were together, things would definitely go wrong.
"Hey, you brat!" A boy suddenly jumped out from around the corner. I looked up sharply and saw it was Er Meng.
Er Meng's real name isn't Er Meng; it's Li Yan, the same name as Li Yan, one of Li Zicheng's men, so I often tease him about
it. He's naturally lively and talks a lot, but he often makes mistakes, which always
causes a burst of laughter in class.
"Boring. Any plans?"
"I'm going to the pharmacy. My dad went to Xiping today; a patient insists on being treated by him.
What brings you to wander the streets in this cold weather?"
"Come on, let's go to your pharmacy. I'm bored. You know, Teacher Wang is at my house right now."
"Oh dear, a home visit? Did he say he was coming to my house?" Er Meng was startled. Students are generally
afraid of teachers visiting their homes, but my fears are different from theirs. "No, what's there to be afraid of?
Even if your head falls off, it'll only leave a small scar." I laughed heartily, looking at his timid appearance.
Ermeng's family pharmacy is located in the middle of Minzhu Road. It's mainly run by his father, Li Tiansen, who used
to work at the town's health center. The business wasn't doing well, so he quit and started his own business, making quite a bit of money over the years. After turning a few corners,
we saw people arguing ahead. One voice was particularly clear and bright; it was definitely Erleng's mother. Erleng and I quickly
walked forward and saw a thin old man holding a carrying pole horizontally, angrily cursing at Erleng's mother.
Looking closer, I realized it was Old Zhou, who sells braised duck and sausages at the east end of the street. I hurriedly stepped forward to break up the fight.
"I was just having a smoke in front of her shop, and she's yelling at me to move. I'm not leaving,
let's see what she does!" Old Zhou, seeing me, acted as if he'd found an acquaintance and insisted on arguing.
"Smoking? You're smoking? Why are you staring at me like that?" Erleng's mother's voice was loud and carried
for miles.
I pulled Old Zhou aside. "Old Zhou," I said, "arguing with that woman, even if you're right, you're still at a disadvantage. If
it gets back to your aunt, that'll be a real problem." I knew Old Zhou was henpecked; he had a
shrew at home. Old Zhou shuddered, glanced back at Er Leng's mother, and wilted. Then, without a word, he picked up his load
and left.
"Hey, he's got some nerve. He didn't know how powerful his mother is..." Er Leng's mother muttered curses under her breath.
Actually, she wasn't old, about the same age as my mother, but she'd always run a shop, and her originally gentle nature had become quite
shrewish.
"Xiaoqiao, come in quickly, I'm so sorry to have troubled you. With something like this happening..." She pulled my hand and led me straight
into the shop. "Xiaoqiao is so capable. Look at my Erleng, so clueless, sigh..."
I glanced at Erleng, seeing his unconvinced expression, and smiled. "Actually, Erleng was about to rush
in and fight, but I held him back. I was afraid something would happen. Erleng is just more courageous than me." "
Xiaoqiao, you've got a silver tongue." Erleng's mother, beaming, took a corn cob,
peeled off the husk, revealing the golden kernel. "Here, eat it while it's hot. Erleng, there's more in the pot, help yourself."
Before his mother could finish speaking, Erleng had already run into the inner room. I knew his father had recently bought him a video
game console there, and he'd been engrossed in it lately, even copying my homework. So he was completely obedient to me
. "Aunt Bai, you should eat too." Erleng's mother, Bai Xiuying, used to be a leading lady in the county's Yue Opera troupe. The troupe closed down two years ago
, and she simply quit and became a homemaker.
"You eat, you eat, I already ate." Aunt Bai looked at me with a dreamy smile, her almond-shaped eyes sparkling and incredibly
alluring. "Xiaoqiao, you must come often in the future. Even if Erleng isn't here, you can still come."
She sat in front of a sculpture depicting the distribution of acupoints on the human body. I looked at the blush rising on her fair face and thought,
actually, Aunt Bai is quite pretty. How come I never noticed before? "Aunt, do you also know about acupoints?" I pointed
to the sculpture, my address to her becoming increasingly abbreviated.
"I know a little, but not all of it. Only Erleng's dad knows," Aunt Bai said with a smile. "I know some simple
acupressure, like for headaches, stomach aches, and things like that. Sometimes it works."
"Really? Auntie, let me show you..." I grasped her hand, smooth and warm.
"My mom often has headaches. If I learn this, I can go home and take care of her." My mother often
rubs her head when she has headaches, and I never knew that hand massage could work.
"Come on, Auntie will teach you. You need to press the acupoint on the first joint of the middle finger, the Daling acupoint at the center of the wrist, and
the acupoints on the middle joints of the four fingers on the back of the hand (excluding the thumb). Doing it this way can relieve
different pain points in the front, top, side, and back of the head." Aunt Bai's snow-white, slender fingers
slid gently across my palm, like a breeze brushing through the treetops, or like water flowing slowly through a ditch between cliffs. My lungs
swelled slightly in that instant, and my heart pounded in the floating dust.
"Xiaoqiao, there's no business. Could you help Auntie close the shop?" Her eyelashes fluttered with a captivating
light, and I read the symbols of desire in her eyes, a lewd emotion brewing within them.
A sinful thought rose within me, a reflection of the evil spirit within me; the serpent of desire stretched out its long, snarling tongue
…
The shop door was made of wooden planks, one by one. I bolted it shut and heard Aunt Bai's rapid breathing behind me
, and the deafening clatter of the arcade machines inside. This wasn't a hallucination. Aunt Bai's hand tentatively
covered my throbbing groin; she was teasing me!
Outside, the wind howled, seeping in through the cracks in the door, causing the candlelight on the shrine to flicker.
A bewitching aura emanated from Aunt Bai's face. "Auntie, your hands are so skillful, mmm...it feels so good." My penis
slowly took shape under her meticulous caresses, its head throbbing and spitting between her fingers, saliva
seeping from its glans, moistening her long, nail-painted fingernails.
"Bridge, so big, ah...don't use too much force, good man...it's too deep, oh oh...it's hitting Auntie's heart
..." My index, middle, and ring fingers joined together, digging and probing inside her vulva, feeling
how deep it was, like the cave I crawled through as a child, dark and deep, with sticky
fluid flowing inside. From inside the room came Erleng's excited scream, clearly he had passed another level in his game, his joyful
shouts drowning out his mother's low moans and lewd murmurs.
Aunt Bai's face was flushed, completely immersed in the realm of lust. Her scent was delicate and sweet, her pink buds
revealing a long-awaited allure. Her soft breaths trembled in the crisp air, her face like a
sea of pink flowers, rising and falling naturally like waves. I looked down, and oh, in this deep, dark cave,
a misty rain was falling, the pool of water as clear and green as shimmering jade. I saw petals as red as peach blossoms.
A faint fragrance lingered in the cold air, and every breath I took felt like drinking sweet nectar.
Touching her smooth, silky skin, my heart rose and fell with the waves of that sea. "Auntie, I want to penetrate you
..." Her moans spread and floated in a free and unrestrained manner. I imagined her crescent-
white vulva, that small hillside covered in snow...
"This, this, not here... what if, Erleng..." This blissful woman, immersed in love
, had a tender yet wanton expression. One hand caressed my burgeoning life, the other hooked around my neck, her whole body trembling
with petals of happiness.
I ignored her. I propped one of her feet on the counter, the background solemn, with the pharmacy's business
license, stamped with the bright red seal of the industrial and commercial administration. Various medicinal scents floated in the air, and desire
surged from all directions. "Ah, Qiao'er, good man... you're going to kill Auntie..." If human life
has four seasons, then Aunt Bai was undoubtedly in the mature autumn. The world is no longer turbulent, grudges and resentments have long since
faded away. She has come to understand the beauty of middle age: gentleness, willingly releasing her magnificent fragrance.
In the fierce collision, my bones burned from the intense heat within. I imagined my dark,
enormous member plunging into that thirsty sea—would it sink without a trace? I buried my mouth in her delicate lips, trying to silence
her desperate cries. My member was like a giant machine, trying to shred and crush her vulva until
I saw bone and flesh.
The counter creaked with our rise and fall, though we
did everything in silence. With each pounding and thrusting, we planted happiness in our own little worlds, searching for what we once possessed, or
compensating for our shattered dreams… Our eyes met, brimming with longing and despair, as if if we didn't
find it in this instant, our bodies would be dried into withered, yellow grass by the dryer of time.
Erleng screamed again from inside the room. Aunt Bai's body trembled, and a surge of passionate desire welled up from the depths of her vagina
, turbulent and gushing with crimson lust. I think that a woman's orgasm itself is a
heart-wrenching tease for a man; it is a summons, a passionate inducement, and also a lamp lit in the cold winter.
Either die in silence or erupt in silence. My surging passion erupted in an instant; I had long forgotten
my real world, slowly walking towards a hazy future, even though she kept pleading beneath me, "My
good man, hurry... I'm afraid, I'm afraid..."
I knew, I knew what she was afraid of. She was afraid that once her son came out, he would see his mother...
She was that kind of wanton, promiscuous woman. I don't know if all women in the world are like this, whether it was her, or
my mother? Life and death are impermanent, all consigned to the cup of wine. I know that ordinary people, like everyone else, lack the detachment to understand life and death
; at most, they can only savor the fleeting pleasures and emotions in life, and that's enough. Just like before us,
right now.
Until I released my most magnificent essence, I saw the relief on Aunt Bai's face, that radiant
pink, drifting like a cloud.
*** *** *** ***
My autumn branches, laden with fruit, were plucked for play, and in every gap of my thoughts, all my
conscience and all my vices leaped out to frolic with me; my original attempt to escape the sea of worldly affairs had left me
utterly exhausted, and the toil of trying to shatter my heart had cleansed my spirit…
*** *** *** ***
"Come, little sister, this is the most famous glutinous rice ball from Xidan Temple Street, dipped in osmanthus sauce. It's the best
thing in the world." Her mother eagerly placed a glutinous rice ball on the pale green porcelain plate in front of Wang Shan. Next to it was a small
porcelain bowl filled with pale red osmanthus sauce. Wang Shan smiled, put it in her mouth, and chewed it carefully, a blissful smile spreading across her face
. "It's so delicious, sister! How is this osmanthus sauce made? Where can I buy it?"
I knew she was trying to please her mother. Sure enough, Mother said happily, "It's kind of you to love it, little sister.
I'll have Qiao'er bring you a bottle later." She affectionately touched Wang Shan's smooth little hand. "I
made this myself. Every year when the osmanthus flowers are in full bloom, I pick them, put half a jar in an osmanthus jar, then
peel the flesh off the sour plums, tear them into pieces, and put them into the osmanthus jar. Finally, I fill the jar with honey, seal it with wax, and
it's ready to eat after ten days. The older it is, the better it tastes. What you're eating now is what I made last year."
Mother's osmanthus jam is something I've eaten since I was a child. I love to add some ice water, sit in the yard watching the distant mountains drift by
, the clouds swirling, and then savor the sweet and slightly sour taste. The elegant and lingering flavor fills my mouth
. This fragrance transcends time and space; even as time goes by, it will still linger, like a fleeting glimpse of a beautiful image etched in
the sky of my memory.
Wang Shan squinted, licking her crimson lips a few times with a blissful expression. "Sister, you're so
skillful! Xiaoqiao inherited your talent; she's just as outstanding." I stretched out my right foot under the table, my toes
tracing along her calf before landing on her inner thigh, flicking it a few times. I saw her body freeze as if under
Sun Wukong's spell, her almond eyes glancing sideways, her alluring gaze almost overflowing with desire.
My mother, however, didn't notice her expression, simply saying modestly, "It's nothing. Qiao'er just can't concentrate; she
tries to learn everything but isn't good at anything." Her voice was incredibly beautiful, like the chirping of forest birds, melodious
and flowing; I could almost hear the babbling of water.
My left hand reached under the table and pinched my mother's thigh. "Mom, stop nagging me, let's talk about something
else." My mother's delicate face instantly flushed a deep red, like a bud about to bloom. Who says beauty fades? Isn't my slightly tipsy mother
the best proof of this?
"Yes, yes, sister, it's getting late, I think I'll go back first. You should rest early too." Wang Shan
got up tactfully. I knew her lower body was definitely dripping with lustful fluids, her face flushed with desire, her eyes sparkling. My
heart fluttered.
"Alright. Qiao'er, you see Teacher Wang off. It's so cold, be careful on the road." My mother, with a
touch of me, exuded a languid yet alluring charm. I was delighted. This room had the delicate softness of willows and
the vibrant beauty of peaches and apricots. I really wanted to take them all in one fell swoop, but I knew this was just a dream. My mother would absolutely not allow
such a thing to happen. She once said that if people found out about our affair, she would never
live. I believed her.
The cold moon was silent, the sky vast and boundless. I lowered my head, greedily breathing in the cold wind blowing from afar,
mixed with dust and the faint fragrance of flowers. "Are you angry? Qiao... I, I, I'm sorry." Wang Shan saw that I
had been silent the whole way, and looked at me cautiously, holding my hand. Her hand was ice cold. "Good Qiao,
really, I just missed you... so I came to see you. Please, don't be angry..."
Her soft Wu dialect was like a warm current in this cold night. I was a little touched, and I held her hand back,
hugged her in my arms, gently stroked her, and kissed the black hair at her temples. "It's nothing. I just don't want Mom
to know about us. If she knew we were always together, it would all come out eventually." I looked at her as if she were a
forest, a snowfield, a wilderness... I heard the sound of blood pounding in my chest, my throat
felt dry. "Good Shan'er, I want to fuck you..."
"Here?" she asked softly, looking around. The desolate road was deserted, the wind
rustled the roadside grass and trees, the dark sky was starless, only a crescent moon emitted a pale, pale light
.
"Of course... spread your legs a little wider, Shan, your hole is so warm..." In the corner of the street,
I had pulled down Wang Shan's pants halfway down, draped over her thighs, her plump, fleshy buttocks exposed to the cold wind. She
was breathing heavily, trembling slightly, perhaps from nervousness and the cold. "Qiao, come in quickly,
I'm so cold..." Her submissiveness held boundless tenderness; at that moment, she seemed like my little wife. But
she wasn't; she was my homeroom teacher and Chinese language teacher.
My powerful penetration answered her. She let out a soft cry, her face glowing with a captivating radiance,
her eyes gleaming with excitement. What kind of love could make a delicate, beautiful, dignified, and elegant woman abandon her
dignity and soul, submitting to the crotch of a young, inexperienced man like me? Or perhaps, it was a desire that bound her to
a treacherous tightrope, making her struggle between humanity and desire, yet the tighter the binding became.
I couldn't believe I possessed that kind of magic, capable of transforming every mature woman into a naive girl before my pale youth
. Could it be that there truly is some unseen force, manipulating the
ship navigating the sea of my life? I kept questioning the heavens, but the heavens remained silent. I transformed my questions into sharp knives, piercing the
pitiful, groaning woman. With each surge of desire, I felt the young soul within me fracturing.
A black demon implanted cancer cells within me. I knew that sooner or later, I would be terminally ill, beyond redemption.
"Call me husband, call me..." I commanded my teacher, the engineer of the human soul, whose limbs trembled
as she received my repeated, heavy thrusts.
The crisp air gradually became damp. Under the silent night sky, Wang Shan's face was flawless,
tears of excitement glistening in her eyes. The sounds of our passionate lovemaking were frozen into a chilling current that gathered in her low, deep
mounds. Perhaps it was from maintaining a standing position that I felt exhausted; my legs gradually went numb. Unable to endure the
alternation of hot and cold, I finally ejaculated, my thick semen flowing like a clear spring, or like the roots of a great tree disappearing into
the depths of her mounds.
And tonight, the moonlight, hazy and dreamlike, poured over the white roof tiles. The remaining snow seemed to have
melted from our passion, dripping from the eaves. Wang Shan straightened her clothes, her eyes glistening with tears,
nestled in my arms, her silence conveying tenderness, gentleness, and docility…
“Qiao, if only it could be like this every day…” Wang Shan’s melancholy face held countless
thoughts. She was sentimental, her willow-leaf eyebrows often furrowed, like Lin Daiyu in the Grand View Garden.
“My dear Shan’er, I read a book the other day, and there was a line in it: ‘An hour is a lifetime, a moment
is close to eternity.’ I think we are the same.” I knew that one day, wrinkles would
quietly carpet her smooth face like fallen leaves in the cold winter, and her eyes would no longer be clear as water, leaving only a weary
echo in the corners of her eyes, resonating with the past. I didn’t know if, on that day, I would still feel
the same longing, the same tenderness…
Wang Shan cried.
*** *** ***
The night sky is always a uniform black. The pale moonlight stretches my lonely shadow long, so
long. The world is so vast, leaving only me, engaging in a dialogue between hearts. The road ahead is spotless; though
countless footsteps bustle here during the day, the cold wind makes everything appear pure and
clear. I wonder if life can be like this too, after a storm, a thousand emotions vanish in
an instant. At this moment, I long to go home.
My mother is waiting for me, naked in the soft lamplight, nestled in the warm blankets.
When my coldness touches her warmth, my whole world collapses in this intoxicating fragrance
. What intoxicates me is a mysterious, intoxicating fragrance, the mellow aroma of aged wine, often swelling my youthful budding
erection, transforming it into a light boat with white sails, sailing into the harbor of my mother's lips. I often
think, the Creator is truly wondrous; the same rice, the same water, the same salt, yet there exists such a radiant and graceful woman as my mother.
This vast universe is filled with inexplicable mysteries.
I gently caress this gift from God; my mother's flesh is impeccable, warm juices, tender
meat, a sweet and sour fragrance lingering in my nostrils. I close my eyes, take a deep breath,
ah, a hundred-year-old daughter's red wine… seven parts soft sour, three parts wine, sliding smoothly down my throat, indistinguishable
as sweet, sour, or wine, yet feeling sweet, sour, and wine all at once. This subtle, wondrous, graceful, and exquisite feeling
is beyond the expression of any worldly words.
My mother trembled, her moans like notes dancing on a musical staff, or like the melody
of "Bamboo Dewdrops" played on her pipa. Thousands of bamboo leaves fell, their shadows rustling, illuminating her two tangled bodies
—was it real or not, like a dream? Her moans were like silkworms spinning silk, scattered yet continuous, like a flute in the dark bamboo grove, and my penis was the whip cracking that night, playing 　　the most glorious and splendid chapter of
human life with each thrust . 　　The howling wind outside gradually faded, carrying a lingering sob. After my continuous thrusts, my mother was like 　　the wind blowing through wheat fields, or the undulating mountains, surging in the passionate winter. I leaned down and kissed her. Her lips 　　were as soft as early spring rain, her tongue darting between my teeth and lips. Her moans were songs of joyful flight, 　　and the sounds of our union were a tender narration. 　　In these ebb and flow, we exchanged energy and passion, gentle and harmonious, with a 　　relaxed feeling, a blissful intoxication. Occasionally, she would open her eyes, gazing at me tenderly. 　　Her jade-like lips gently caressed my black hair, while the pubic hair beneath her, like rows of neatly arranged rice seedlings in a vast paddy field, 　　swayed gracefully in the breeze. Suddenly, I felt a strange emotion, as if 　　I had abruptly opened my mother's once slender vulva, and a surge of yin energy flowed into my rushing blood— 　　an indication of primal life force. As thousands of sperm from my mother's body 　　poured into my penis with an invincible and fearless posture , I found that my heart, which had been tense and uneasy due to the constraints of worldly morality, suddenly 　　blossomed with joy. 　　This stemmed from the subtle and awkward suggestion of sex, yet it was presented to me in a real way. I had a sudden realization— 　　life itself is an eternally moving miracle, and people have an eternal and inexhaustible yearning and persistence for life 　　. This world is truly beautiful. Passion is a wave that never recedes, a dream with wings. I think my mother 　　thought so too. Everything in this world is incredibly wondrous; the most bitter things are also the sweetest, 　　the most astringent is the most sweet, like two sides of the same coin. 　　Faced with the tenderness and affection released by my mother, as her son, I could only cup it in my heart. The fusion of yin and yang 　　seemed so gentle at this moment, but most importantly, I had to use my heart to feel that fullness, to be moved by 　　that vibrant love. 　　"Promise me, when Dad comes back tomorrow, you won't do anything reckless again." My beautiful mother 　　naturally bent into an arc under my pounding, like a folded morning glory, swaying in the wind. This sorrowful 　　feeling needed to be truly felt through the fusion of body and soul. My heart skipped a beat. How fortunate I was to be one with my mother, to enjoy this 　　most subtle romance in the world? 　　I understood my mother's meaning; life shouldn't be filled with one mistake after another. But fate had already decreed that we were both 　　a group of persistent and unrepentant people, destined to be together until the moment the mountains crumbled and we were shattered to pieces. I respected my mother's advice, but...

I don't know if I can do it. "Okay, Mom. I'll try to control myself." I went all out again, completely ignoring
my mother's trembling beneath me, imagining leading her to the peak of happiness. That dull "thud" sound was exquisite,
far beyond what reality could bear.
My mother sighed, like the low murmur of the goddess Mi Fei by the Luo River, or like the passing wind, gently brushing across the fields
with helplessness.
*** *** *** ***
After everything was distorted and twisted, one finally arrives at the most ordinary and commonplace place, examining one's initial
wishes: What were my wishes for life before? If I still have wishes in the future, what should I wish for?
*** *** *** ***
When my father returned home, it was exactly 5:30 in the afternoon. The car rumbled, clearly still that old Beijing
Jeep, rolling over the snow-covered road surface, screeching to a stop outside the door.
"Quick, Qiao'er, you go out first." Mother let out a long sigh, her warm breath
sounding like the gentle whimpering of a baby. I felt a nervous excitement, pulling my still-
erect penis from her tight vagina and tucking it into her cotton sweatpants. Mother seemed flustered, quickly adjusting her lower body.
"Aren't you going yet?" She glared at me fiercely, her reproachful eyes filled with alluring charm.
"Dad, you're back." My quiet father, wearing my grandfather's fur coat, looked even thinner. His face,
ravaged by the north wind, was rough and pale, and the thick purple-framed glasses on his nose made him look
even more haggard. I felt a pang of sadness. My father had been working hard all year round, enduring the elements, not only for his beloved career
but also for this family.
"Yes, you're back. Qiao'er, did you listen to your mother at home?" Seeing my voice choked with emotion, my father
patted my shoulder reassuringly. "It's so good to be home."
"Dad, Mom is getting you hot water in the inner room. Where's the driver?" I peeked at the driver,
Xiao Wu, who was starting the car. "Why don't you let Uncle Xiao Wu come in and sit down?"
"Hey, he's in a hurry to get home. It's so cold, and he's newly married. Accompanying us on this trip
for several days must have worn him out." My father chuckled, watching the Beijing Jeep, emitting a lot of black exhaust fumes, gradually disappear
into the distance. He seemed to be in a good mood.
"You're back. How can you say such things to the child?" My mother stood gracefully at the door,
staring at my father with a hint of reproach, her face full of joy, her eyebrows exuding a strange charm.
"Yes, yes. Hehe, I'm back." Father hurriedly stuffed the entire package into my hands. "Qiao'er,
take these things inside and distribute them. Some are for the neighbors."
I saw the astonishment on Father's face. I knew in my heart that Father hadn't seen Mother for a few days and found
her even more alluring than before, so he was eager to get rid of me. But he didn't know that it was precisely because we
had just made love that Mother displayed that languid and seductive charm. "Okay, I'll take some to Erleng's family later,"
I agreed. Father always brought back some local specialties to share with the neighbors whenever he went out, and coupled with Mother's dignified, humble
, and kind nature, our family was known for its good relationships in the area.
The room was filled with a strong fragrance, mixed with the scent of women's rouge and cologne. I thought that
Mother probably wanted to avoid that kind of scent in the air, so she took out this rather strong perfume and sprayed it on. My father
sneezed several times as soon as he entered the house. "Why does it smell so good?"
"Hmm, I took out some old clothes to prepare for winter, and they had a bit of an odor, so I sprayed some perfume, but I accidentally
knocked it over." Sure enough, the bottle of cologne lay overturned on the table. I noticed a hint of shyness, a touch of
mischief, and a dash of pride in my mother's eyes. Our eyes met, and my mother blushed, glancing at me sideways before ignoring me. My
father, who had just entered the house, didn't notice our little exchange, still immersed in the joy of returning home
. Perhaps for those who have left home, home truly is a sanctuary for the soul, real and tangible
. My eyes gradually welled up with tears. Every time my father left home, for some reason, I always felt a sense of loss
, as if something important was missing from my life. Although I could enjoy intimate moments with my mother,
there was more melancholy and confusion than pleasure.
My father's magnanimous smile told me that the world of three was the most perfect, and this kind of family
joy could not be replaced by anything else. Father, I really want to cry; joy makes my heart ache, forgiving
my absurdity and recklessness over the years. Although I had long since sunk and fallen, nightmares like a long rope had already tightened around my
fragile neck, and I dared not kick off that footrest chair. After the salty tears, a heart-wrenching pain swirled
around me. Every time I woke up in the middle of the night, I felt as if I were in an endless snowfield, with drops of black blood flowing down
...
However, I had become a prodigal son who would never turn back, obsessed with my mother's round, green breasts, the abundant
milk attracting and nourishing me, the broad mons pubis like a fertile plain, where a warm palace was built, storing boundless
energy, waiting for me to seize it...
Years later, I read an article, and just one glance was enough to shock me—
"...Then let the acacia flower in your hand be a word of comfort bestowed by an unknown star from the distant night sky
! The soft petals, when rubbed, release a faint fragrance, without sorrow or lamentation. Comfort is simply comfort
itself, just as tears are ultimately just tears, without accusation or regret. All promises are fiery
paths, and the promiser is not unaware of this, desiring to see them as home. A woman who becomes a mother because of a promise, trapped in a sea of fire,
must see the copper cabinet beneath the reeds, swarming with mosquitoes and flies, upon which hangs a divine talisman: 'You made your first choice
to become a mother; now, I give you a second and final choice; inside are forgotten fruits and a cup of
blood wine. After drinking, you will learn to betray, all the torments that have entangled you will vanish, and you will regain your whole
self, like a virgin who has never conceived.'
This was written to my mother, but it is also written to me; this is a choice for my mother, and also for me.
I watch the scattered snowflakes fluttering in the wind outside the window; in a few more days, it will be the Spring Festival. " May this be a
sign of a bountiful harvest. A light mist veils the windowpane; I clasp my hands together and devoutly chant the "Peace Song."
I long for the arrival of sweet rain, hoping that those burdened by the yoke of their souls can be freed from their heavy yokes, letting the gentle breeze dispel the darkness, regardless of whether tomorrow
brings dawn or even deeper darkness…
If only one purple acacia flower remains in my palm, I will offer it to my father and mother, letting
this purple hue be as serene as the sea, pure and beautiful. Even though, beneath its lightness lurks the allure of melancholy, decadence, and even depravity
.
In truth, this is also the sensitive, ambiguous, and subtly complex undertone of a seventeen-year-old's life.
(The End)

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[A Collection of Random Tales] - "The Snow of My Hometown, the Feelings of My Hometown"

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