Unscrupulous

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

I was born into an authoritarian family. My father's tyranny and my mother's submissiveness deeply affected me.
Children raised in such families often learn to be either authoritarian or submissive: submissive to the strong,
authoritarian . As Lu Xun said, "When they encounter sheep, they become wolves; when they encounter wolves more ferocious than themselves
, they become sheep." But I was an exception. Growing up, I hated authoritarian people. At work, I was
the nemesis of autocratic leaders. When I couldn't stand it anymore and wanted to start my own business, I became a boss
who shared the hardships , treating them as equals. My employees never saw me as their boss, but as their brothers and
elder brothers. With the cooperation of these brothers and sisters, my business achieved considerable success. Unfortunately, I lacked ambition; I
was small successes and became complacent. Meanwhile, my brothers, using my name, pooled their money to open
branch after branch, making a lot of money. I didn't care, because if their business was good, mine was even better.
Everyone knew this was the authentic place. At home, I practice a democratic and free lifestyle, with no taboos. My wife
and children dare to tell me almost anything, without fear of calling them absurd or despicable. I gave
my children a motto: "My actions are principled, my heart is boundless!" They take it as golden advice and follow it without fail. I truly don't know
what there is to be taboo about. When my father died, I didn't care at all. Although I attended the memorial service, I still
greeted my childhood friends and elders loudly and chatted happily. They came pretending to be grieving,
but I made them unsure of what to do.

When my mother passed away, I was very sad and remained sullen after the funeral. My wife wasn't sad, but seeing me
like this, she also looked worried. My two children, however, kept trying to cheer me up. They weren't very close to their grandmother,
so they weren't sad at all and didn't even attend the funeral, saying it was too pointless. I didn't force them.

My wife asked me if I would be very sad if she died. I said yes. She then asked if I would remarry. I
said of course, otherwise I would die of depression. My wife was very unhappy and said, "If you die, I'll immediately
find a husband and remarry. Will you be sad?" I said, "I'll be sad now, but after I die, I won't
know , so of course I won't be sad." My wife scolded me for being heartless. I said, "When you die, you'll turn into mud. You don't
think mud can be sad, do you? As long as you're good to me while I'm alive, that's enough. After I die, you can marry whoever you want."

That morning, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I saw my wife washing her face, and my fifteen-year-old son was hugging and kissing his mother
behind her . I said, "What are you doing, kid!" My son immediately let go of his mother,
grinned at me, and walked away. I glared at him, remembering that I had seen the mother and son talking about something the day before yesterday. After a while,
my son suddenly patted his mother's bottom lightly and walked away. My wife
seemed to be used to this undignified behavior.

When I arrived at my restaurant, the staff had already opened for business. Every table was full of customers having breakfast,
as lively as ever, with more than half of them being regulars. Seeing these regular customers put me in a good mood. I greeted them
one by one each of them seemed to have an endless supply of jokes, making me laugh non-stop.

Then I went to the kitchen, where Chef Zhang, opening a steaming steamer, said to me, "Brother Fa! I
saw your wife and a man going to the movies yesterday, they were so affectionate!" That bastard, I know he
really , and he jokes about her every time he sees me. I didn't mind, but he was unrestrained.

"Come on!"

"Don't believe me? If I'm lying, you can dock a year's salary!" he said seriously, and everyone in
the kitchen looked at me with a smile.

"Okay, tell me, where, with whom, and how were they being affectionate?"

"How affectionate? Your wife was arm in arm with that man, chatting and laughing!"

"With whom?"

"Da Zai! Hahahaha!" Everyone burst into laughter, except me, who couldn't laugh, and only hummed
twice. Because Da Zai is my son, Wu Da. The employees, unaware of my inner turmoil, simply assumed I was putting on airs. They laughed
for a while and then went back to their work.

As I reached the door, my daughter, who was collecting money, asked, "Dad! Why isn't Mom here yet? Everyone has to go to school,
and we haven't had breakfast!"

I said, "Almost there, almost there." Looking around, I saw every employee busy, while customers had finished eating and were waiting
for their change . The wall clock showed 7:40; it was time for my daughter to go to school.

"Go eat quickly, I'll cover for a bit."

"Thank you, Dad."

"Boss Wu, are you not going to collect money?" the customers teased me. I laughed, "If you support me, I
won't charge you!"

By 9:30, breakfast time was over, and there were far fewer customers. I took a moment to call home and urge them on.
My wife, panting on the phone, said, "I'm coming right now, I'm mopping the floor." I said, "
Can't ?" "Okay, I'm coming."

Then I asked the waitress, Li Xiaomei, to collect the money, and then I went
to visit . My wife is the accountant at every DaWu restaurant, and I also have to bring her the ledgers. However, at each
restaurant, my brothers always have a lot to say to me, or they'll pull me down for a couple of drinks, and when business is slow,
we'll play a few rounds of cards. That's how the day goes by happily.

Our DaWu restaurants aren't high-end, but they're great because they cater to the locals! Cater to what? Cater to the feelings of the citizens, cater to their
income levels!

Cater to their lifestyles! That's the secret to my success. It has practically taken over a large portion of the city's
restaurant market.

Reaching my front door, I remembered a friend had given me a bottle of good wine yesterday, so I decided to take it and have a couple of drinks with my buddies and
head home. Anyway, my house is on the second floor, so it's not a hassle. Just then, my wife rushed out and asked,
"What's up?" I said, "Hurry up!" She didn't say much, got on her bicycle, and left.

Taking off my shoes and going inside, I noticed the living room floor had been mopped, but the bedrooms hadn't. My son's room
was tidy , and my daughter's room is always neat, but our master bedroom was still a mess. Sigh, my wife
spent the whole morning doing so little!

I found the wine bottle and was about to leave when the phone rang. I picked it up; it was my son's teacher
. She said Wuda had been late a lot lately and had even missed two classes, something that had never happened before. Although my wife
always signed the leave slips, the frequency was so high that the school suspected him of cheating, so they were calling to investigate.
I replied that I didn't know anything about it but would follow up.

The teacher said Wuda was twenty minutes late again today and was being stopped at the door by the teacher on duty. I asked the teacher to let
my son come over for a phone call, scolded him, and then hung up.

When my children came home from school that evening, I naturally gave my son another lecture, asking him why
he was always late. My wife explained, "He hasn't been feeling well lately." I said, "Don't spoil him too much; I think he's just lazy!"
My son, who had been silent with his head down, smiled but didn't argue.

However, I was also worried that my son might actually be sick, so I said, "If he's really feeling unwell, go to the hospital
for a checkup ."

My wife said, "Yes, Mom will take you to the hospital another day."

I thought that after saying that, my son's condition would improve. The next morning, before leaving, I specifically reminded
my son, "Go to school right after breakfast, don't dawdle." My daughter had already gone to help
out , so I added, "Your sister does more work than you every day, but she's never late."

After finishing at the restaurant, I called the school: "Ms. Wang? Was Wuda late today?"
I was sure the teacher would answer, "No." Then I boasted about how well I'd supervised my son's school attendance.
But the teacher's answer infuriated me: "He's late again today! Fifteen minutes!"

Good heavens, fifteen minutes! It doesn't even take fifteen minutes to walk from home to school! He even has a bicycle.
This morning , when I left, there was still an hour before class started, and he had already eaten half of his breakfast.

That evening, as usual, I scolded my son and asked him why he was late. He didn't say anything, only saying, "
I promise I won't be late again tomorrow." I then discussed it with my wife, asking her what our son did after I left. My wife said that our son left shortly after I
left too. I started to worry that my son had made bad friends outside, so I said, "Tomorrow I'm going to follow
him and see where he goes."

The next day, I really did hide somewhere and watch where my son went after leaving home. I followed him all the way to school,
and nothing happened. This continued for two days in a row. When I called the school again, the teacher happily said, "Wu Da hasn't been late these
past two days ; he's even arrived earlier than all the other students. He opens his books and studies on his own
as soon as he arrives; he's very well-behaved." I said, "If anything happens to him at school, please contact me. His mother spoils him too much." Then I gave the teacher the restaurant's
phone number .

A week later, I was drinking and playing cards with my friends when the waiter said he had a phone call for me.

"Hello?"

"Are you Wuda's father?"

"Oh, Teacher Wang, what's up?"

"I called the hotel but you weren't there. The waiter gave me this number, so I called."

"Oh, is that kid late again?"

"No, he hasn't been late lately. He only took one day off, saying he was going to the hospital for a checkup. But I've noticed he's been listless in class
lately , and his grades have dropped, so I wanted to ask if his recent routine is normal,
and what the results of his hospital checkup were. Is there anything wrong with him?"

"I don't know. Maybe his mother went with him. I'll ask tonight."

After hanging up, I talked to my friends. Everyone said that kids these days are so unpredictable and hard to manage. Wuda
is considered very well-behaved, sensible, and has good manners. I felt much better after hearing that.

That evening, I asked my wife about our son's checkup. She said everything was fine. I asked her for the test results, but after searching
for a while, she said she didn't know where she had put them. I had to press her to tell me what the doctor said, asking her to recall, but my wife
stammered and couldn't answer. I thought, at least everything's alright.

From then on, I started paying attention to my son's behavior. He knew I was frequently in contact with the school, and he seemed to have become
much more . The teacher stopped calling to complain, but I was the one who called often to inquire. The teacher said, "His recent behavior has been okay,
but he's not as diligent as before."

She also said that teenagers have a lot of problems and that I should keep an eye on him, and that things would get better after this period. So I
paid even closer attention to my son.

Although my daughter is only a year older than my son, she not only doesn't require my attention, but she also helps relieve my worries. Back then,
to have a son, I had to hide and was even fined five thousand yuan by the family planning office. Although the family planning office wouldn't
put the son back in my womb, they forced my wife to have a sterilization operation. At the time, I was overjoyed to have a son and
voluntarily had a tubal ligation for my wife. Looking back now, I really don't know what's so great about having a son; it's purely
vanity .

Even though my son is so troublesome, I adhere to our family tradition of not hitting or scolding him, but only offering advice. But my
son, who used to be completely open with me, seems to be hiding something from me, unlike his usual carefree self. Although I repeatedly reminded him,
"You know Dad can tolerate anything, I've seen all sorts of strange things, just say what's on your mind,
don't be afraid Dad will scold you," he just smiled and didn't answer.

I've always restrained myself from checking my children's rooms to ensure their privacy and personal dignity, so my
children are much more mature and confident than their peers. But now, I clearly feel that my son is
hiding something bad from me, and I can't control myself; I'm about to do something I don't want to do.

"This is for my son's future, and I believe I can rationally face everything I see," I comforted
myself, and for the first time in many years, I entered his room when he wasn't around.

The door was locked from the inside, but my wife had the key.

It was almost noon, and instead of going out to drink and chat with my brothers, I sneaked home.

With an uneasy heart, I carefully checked all of my son's belongings, and sure enough, I suspected something.

First, I found a pair of women's underwear under his pillow, obviously worn. It was a very ordinary pair of women's
panties ; my wife and daughter both had them. Then I looked at my son's diary, which contained entries like

, "Today I finally...did it with her..."
Having read this far, I believed I knew my son's secret. I put the things back and left.

That night, before bed, I told my wife about it. Her face turned pale, and she immediately tried to leave. I
stopped her, saying, "Don't worry, let's think of something. It's normal for boys this age to think about women. The problem is, it can't
let it interfere with their studies."

My wife's face flushed and paled in turns; I wasn't sure if she had listened.

Finally, I said I would find some time to talk to our son properly. My wife said, "Let me talk to him."
I didn't know how to start, but seeing her take the initiative, I immediately agreed.

The next day, I noticed that the mother and son looked strange, as if they were avoiding each other. I secretly asked my wife, "Did you
talk to him?"

My wife nodded. "How did it go?" My wife sighed, "He promised to focus on his studies from now on."

I continued to stay in touch with the school. The teacher told me, "Wuda seems to be working very hard lately, but he
still can't concentrate very well. His subject teachers have reported that he often daydreams in class. I've noticed that he doesn't hang out with his classmates much anymore,
and they don't know why."

I told the teacher, "He might be dating someone." The teacher said, "No!
None of the girls in the class say he's dating anyone, and we haven't heard anything about him having a girlfriend outside of school." I said, "That guy is cunning; even if he has a girlfriend
, others might not know." The teacher laughed, "Wuda is a smart and cute boy,
and I know that many girls like him, but he hasn't had any close relationships with any girls at school. How did you discover the problem?"
Of course, I couldn't say that I went to check on him myself, so I just said, "Just based on observation and intuition."

Later, when I checked my son's room again, I found that his diary was missing, and his underwear under his pillow
couldn't possibly be there either.

But the teacher said he was still absent-minded, which worried me and made me realize that the problem wasn't solved yet. More importantly
, my son had aroused my intense curiosity; I wanted to know what he was doing!

I went to my friend Lao Zheng, a flashy guy who loves to show off. He didn't earn much, but he bought a
car. I always criticized him for wasting money, but this time I had to borrow his car.

"Brother Fa, if you wanted to buy a car, you could have bought a dozen, why borrow this beat-up one from me?" he said.

"What would I buy it for? I can exercise and walk, it's convenient."

"What are you borrowing it for today? To pick up girls?"

"No." I frankly told him about my son's situation and said I'd use his car as cover, and he immediately
gave me the keys.

I have a license, so I drove to the corner downstairs from my apartment building, parked, and
pretended . I ate breakfast before leaving.

I rode my bike around the corner, put it down, and locked it. I got into the car and drove it to my apartment building. Old Zheng's
car, like those popular cars back then, had sunshade stickers, so you couldn't see the inside from the outside. I sat in the back seat, and even from
the front where there were no stickers, it wasn't easy to see me, and even if you could see me, you couldn't see me clearly.

It was seven o'clock when I left home; my son was eating breakfast and would probably finish quickly. School starts at eight, so it should be
fine. I waited until 7:40, but my son still hadn't come downstairs. I only saw my wife, wearing a tank top and shorts,
go to the balcony to collect some underwear. When I left, she was already dressed in a shirt and skirt, wearing an apron and making breakfast.
Why was she changing clothes now?

At 7:45, my son rushed downstairs, buttoning his shirt as he ran, as if he'd just taken a nap
. His eyes were bleary, and he looked listless. He pushed his bicycle and left. My wife ran to the balcony and said, "Be careful on the road!"
Her voice was gentle, unlike what I usually heard.

I drove after my son, watching him pedal hard, speeding towards school, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

For several days in a row, I borrowed Lao Zheng's car for an hour and a half. He asked if I'd noticed anything, and I shook my head.
But one thing puzzled me: why did my wife always come out to collect the underwear around the same time?
Why was my son fine when I left, but listless when he went to school? Why were they dressed
neatly, ready to go out at any time, but then suddenly became disheveled when they left?

I felt the problem lay within my home.

I had never paid such close attention to my own home before, and I wanted to find a hiding place.

On the fifth day, I finally got my chance.

That day, my son was in the bathroom, and my wife was in the kitchen. I took the opportunity to open the door, say, "I'm leaving,"
and then close it again, quickly hiding under the bed in my room.

My wife chased after me, went back into the room, went out onto the balcony, and peered down for a while before returning.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom. The two of them sat at the dining table, and my wife said, "Your dad was acting strange
today , like he was in a rush. He left before finishing his meal." My son said, "Maybe he had something urgent."
My wife said, "Why don't you go downstairs and see if his bicycle is still there?"

I felt both smug and suspicious. Smug because I had already thought of this trick; I had pushed the bicycle to another alley
and left it there. Suspicious because why was my wife so sure I was really gone?

My son dashed downstairs like a whirlwind, full of energy, and less than half a minute later he rushed back: "Let's go!"

"Okay, close the door," my wife said. As my son closed the door, I noticed he simultaneously pressed the latch.

From the dining room, I could hear the mother and son talking softly; I could
n't make out what they were saying, but their tone was intimate, and my wife occasionally giggled.

After a while, the talking stopped, but there were occasional creaks from the tables and chairs, and the sound of shoes. Then,
I saw their feet slowly walk out of my sight, very slowly, stopping and starting, before disappearing.
Then I heard the bedroom door close.

At this point, I felt very uneasy, a mix of
emotions .

About half an hour later, the bedroom door opened. I heard the mother and son whispering as they hurried out. When their feet
came into view, I noticed my wife's high heels were gone; she was barefoot, and my son had changed from his leather shoes into slippers, without
socks .

"Hurry, hurry," my wife whispered.

The sounds of water, voices, and the clinking of the soap dish came from the bathroom.

"Okay, go change your clothes."

My wife crossed our room and went to the balcony to collect her underwear. I noticed she was only wearing a towel today. Then
she sat on the bed above my head, creaking and twisting a bit, put on her underwear, stockings, etc., and went out again.

The hairdryer whirred, and my son said, "Stop drying, we're running late."

"You pack your schoolbag, Mom will dry it for you."

"Okay, no."

"Hey, your clothes aren't buttoned up!

" "I'll button them myself, bye Mom."

"Bye. Be careful on the road." "

Oh, you can't take this." "

Mom, no one will see."

"No, Dad saw it."

"No, I won't leave it with me."

"Then, put it under your schoolbag."

"..."

"You rascal!" my wife scolded playfully.

"Bye Mom."

"Bye, be careful on the road."

The door closed, and my son's footsteps came from the hallway, sounding hurried.

The wife rushed into the room, ran to the balcony, leaned down, and cried out, as if trying to shout but afraid of being overheard: "Slow
down! Don't rush!"

I saw her stand on the balcony for a full five minutes before slowly turning back, her steps becoming languid.
She sat on the bed for a while, then got up and left. Judging from the sound, she seemed to be cleaning outside, but her movements were slow,
stopping starting. Occasionally, she would come into the room, open the wardrobe, and then close it again.

After a while, I heard her make a phone call: "Hello, Xiao Li? Where's Fa Ge? Oh, where did he go? Oh, okay,
I'll be right there."

I didn't ask the hotel staff to lie for me, because what I saw today was truly unexpected.

My wife quickened her pace, and soon she locked the door and left. Only

after hearing the sound of bicycles fading away downstairs did I crawl out from under the bed.

The dining room was cleaned up, the chairs were all placed against the table. Everything in my son's room was neat and tidy, and the trash can
was empty.

Going to the bathroom, I saw my wife's underwear hanging on the hanger, still dripping water, and the mirror was still fogged up.
I looked at the trash can again and noticed it was very full. A thought struck me, and I went over to search it carefully.

What I found made my limbs go weak and my heart pound as if it would burst: several wads of toilet paper stained with sticky fluid, a
twisted condom with a clear liquid inside that felt warm to the touch.

I found my friend Lao Zhao: "Hey, if anyone asks me where I went this morning, just say I was here with you the whole
time ." "Why?" "Don't ask anymore, I'll tell you later, everyone will say the same thing." "What about your wife?"
"Same here." Lao Zhao smiled slyly: "Brother Fa cheated on you too." I smiled, hoping he would think that way.
He believed it even more, saying, "Your wife is beautiful, but men, hehe, that's how it is."
He patted my shoulder understandingly: "Call me if there's anything good to do next time!"

When I got home that night, my wife asked me, "Where did you go today?"

"At Lao Zhao's."

"What were you doing? You stayed there all day." My wife seemed to be trying to hide her dissatisfaction, asking me in a very casual tone.

"Playing cards and drinking."

"Really? You do this when you're with Lao Zhao?" she joked.

"Then what are we going to do?"

"Go find women, right?" My wife laughed as she spoke.

"You want me to go find women, don't you?" I asked her with a forced smile.

We both come from the countryside and went to high school together, which is quite an achievement in the countryside. My wife is very
beautiful , and many young men from our village and neighboring villages pursued her, but I won her over, and we
got married not long after graduating from high school. After marriage, we moved to the city to open a restaurant, and one important reason was that I didn't want those persistent
men to keep bothering my wife. Having heard and witnessed adultery scandals in the village since I was a child, I didn't want those shameful things
to happen in my family.

But now, it seems that something even uglier has happened in our family.

This year marks our seventeenth wedding anniversary. At thirty-four years old, our relationship has become rather mundane, and I no longer get jealous when I see her laughing and talking with other men
like I used to . We haven't been intimate for a long time.

"What's wrong with you tonight? You're like you've taken some kind of drug," my wife said to me with a smile after we finished.

"And you? You're like you're in heat," I said.

"You're so mean!" My wife playfully threw herself into my arms, pounding my chest with her fist.

I suddenly thought of my deceased parents. I'd heard the village elders say my mother was very beautiful when she was young. My father
often scolded her for having affairs and beat her, which made me resent him. But thinking back, I also remembered my mother
laughing and talking happily with some men, especially Uncle Li. Sometimes, I'd glance back
and see her entangled with Uncle Li. When she was with my father, I never saw her happy; she was always timid and
fearful.

Thinking about this, I couldn't help but feel sorry for my father.

Some time later, after a long period of not being sick, I suddenly had a terrible sore throat and needed to go to the hospital.

The city wasn't big, with only two hospitals. My wife asked me with concern which hospital I wanted to go to. I said it didn't matter, and she
recommended the People's Hospital, saying she knew a Dr. Zhang there who could help me find a good doctor.

At the hospital, I asked a nurse, who casually said, "Second floor, obstetrics and gynecology." So she was a gynecologist.
When we got to the second-floor obstetrics and gynecology department, there was a large group of female doctors sitting inside. I
asked They called out, and a young, handsome male doctor came out.

"What do you want?" he asked, looking a little nervous.

"I'm Liu Liyun's wife. She asked me to come see you," I explained.

At that moment, Dr. Zhang's face changed, and the entire obstetrics and gynecology department fell silent.

"Could we talk outside?" he said arrogantly. I was puzzled but still agreed.

We walked all the way down to the flowerbed before he finally said, "What's wrong?"

"My throat hurts. My wife said she knows you well and asked me to ask you to recommend a good doctor."

"Oh, you should have said so earlier!" His expression suddenly relaxed. "Come on, I'll take you."

On the way home, I kept frowning. There were so many female doctors in the obstetrics and gynecology department, why did my wife choose a
man? Thinking about how she usually went to the hair salon and got facials, always seeking male services, I felt even more uncomfortable.

The next day, during my follow-up appointment, I didn't want to go to the People's Hospital again, because yesterday when I was walking back and forth there to get my medication,
it seemed like every doctor was watching me. So today I went to the Health Care Hospital.

The name might suggest it's just for general health care, but it's actually a legitimate hospital. I do know
someone , my regular customer, Dr. Yang.

"Hey, Dr. Yang, haven't you come for breakfast lately?"

"Yeah, my mom's been visiting lately, and she cooks breakfast for me every day before I go.

" "Oh, how's your mom doing?"

"She's fine, thank you."

"Why are you thanking me? Come visit sometime."

"Definitely! What's wrong today?"

"Sore throat."

"That's easy, I'll take you to see Dr. Li." So

I followed Dr. Yang to the ENT department. On the way, Dr. Yang asked me, "Has your wife recovered?"

"She's fine, why?"

"I heard she had an abortion last month, she should be recovered by now."

Hearing this, I felt like I'd been slapped in the face, stunned for a moment, then quickly said, "Oh, I know, she's recovered , she's recovered.
"

Dr. Yang cautioned, "They're cracking down hard now, be careful. If you don't have the necessary tools, I'll get you a couple, I have plenty." By "
cracking down hard," he meant the family planning policy.

That night, when I got home, I felt like I was in a dream, thinking about so many things. My wife came over and asked me with concern...
I made an excuse about a sore throat, and she kept rinsing my throat with water and getting me medicine, then complained that Dr. Zhang hadn't taken good care of me. I said,
"He's a gynecologist; he's fine taking care of you, but he's not up to the task of taking care of me." My wife seemed a little embarrassed,
lowered her head walked away.

Then my daughter came to take care of me, and I felt a little better. I asked her to do her homework, and she said she had finished. I said,
"Daddy has a sore throat and doesn't want to talk. You can watch TV." She said, "I don't want to watch; I want to stay with Daddy."
What a good daughter.

After sitting silently for a while, my daughter reached out and gently stroked my throat, trying to ease my pain, but my pain
was actually deep inside.

From then on, I began to pay close attention to my wife and children's activities, discovering many secrets I had previously overlooked.

With a very professional spirit, I used a notebook to count the number and styles of my wife's underwear,
the number of condoms in the house, their placement, their daily routines, my son going to school, my wife returning to the shop, and so on.
I kept the notebook in my inner pocket, only taking it out to record when no one was around. To prevent it from falling into the wrong hands, I
used code words to record it. For example, underwear was labeled "ly," panties "lk," and "red d white iaan" meant red with white dots,
etc. Even if my wife accidentally found it, she wouldn't understand what it said.

To avoid suspicion, I also wrote down some important hotel details in the notebook.

The day after I started making these notes, I discovered a problem.

When my wife woke up in the morning, she was wearing white briefs. An hour later, when I returned to check,
those briefs had been washed and were hanging in the bathroom, along with an extra pair of briefs that hadn't been recorded.
Two pairs of briefs and one bra were missing from her wardrobe.

The condoms were still there, but the toilet paper in my son's room was missing a roll (I marked the bottom of the roll with a pen).

The next day, I bought a bottle of perfume with a distinctive scent and sprayed it on my wife. She thought it was a gift and was
happy without suspicion.

An hour later, I smelled the same scent on my son's bed. Things were becoming increasingly obvious.

That evening, my daughter said to me, "Dad, you seem a bit strange lately." I asked, "How so?"
She said, "You haven't been going to the restaurant much, and you seem to be lost in thought." I laughed and said, "Dad
hasn't been feeling well lately, probably because I'm getting old." My daughter laughed and said, "Dad is very young, not old
at all ."

My wife also noticed a change in me: "Have you become younger lately?" she asked, because I've been making
sexual .

"Don't you find it annoying?" I asked her. She quickly shook her head, hugged me affectionately, and used body
language to show that she was happy with me doing this. Then she asked me, "Why?" I said, "Nothing, you've
become more beautiful and charming lately."

Five days after I said that, I noticed its effect: the school teacher told me that starting five days ago,
the day after I said that, my son, Wuda, started coming home for lunch. And these past few days, I've insisted on going to
the restaurant to check on things, and the staff told me that my wife, Fa Sao, unusually wanted to
go home to cook lunch during the busy lunchtime hours. They asked me to hire someone else to help, and I agreed.

Two days later was Sunday. Business at the restaurant was a little slow, but it would be busier in the evenings than usual. I usually slept in
late and only went to check on things around noon. My daughter is very sensible; she studies hard during the day and helps out at the restaurant during the busiest time of the evening.

Around noon, I went to the restaurant to check on things. There wasn't much business. I cleaned up with the staff, had some
broken , and then went for a stroll, ending up in a nearby park. I hadn't been to
a park for about ten years, and it felt unfamiliar as soon as I entered.

But unfamiliarity can also spark curiosity, so I walked around with great interest.

Although it was Sunday, the economy wasn't doing well, and many people were laid off. The
park were nowhere to be seen.

When I was young, I loved hiking. When my wife and I were courting, we often climbed Songshan Mountain in our hometown and sat in the dense
woods , whispering sweet nothings. Seeing a small hill in the center of the park, I couldn't help but walk over. Most people were sitting on the grass at the foot of the hill eating, and children were playing around the adults . There were hardly any people

on the hill itself .
It was lunchtime, and many of the people who were supposed to come had probably gone home for lunch.

Halfway up the mountain, there was a pavilion. I wanted to rest, but seeing a few shady-looking young men
playing cards , I didn't stop and climbed all the way to the top. Looking around, I saw the stone steps leading down to the top,
and a small pine forest not far away with some stone benches. I walked towards the forest.

Just as I entered, I saw two familiar figures sitting on a grassy patch. Looking closer, I
realized it was my wife and son.

I knew they would go to the movies together on Sunday, but I hadn't expected them to go to the park afterward.

It was the height of summer, and my son seemed to have gotten hot from climbing; he sat on the grass with his back bare. My wife
held and a handkerchief in the other, wiping his sweat and smiling at him as she did so. My son turned to look at his mother, then suddenly
reached out and pulled her into his arms.

There was a stone table in front of me, so I squatted behind it and looked through the gaps in the rocks and grass.

The mother and son's faces were pressed together, embracing tightly, oblivious to the heat. The son suddenly turned and looked back for a moment. I nervously
shifted my position, but he didn't notice anything. Then the wife also turned and looked back. The umbrella then drooped,
blocking my view; I could only see their buttocks.

The two umbrellas swayed, sometimes gently, sometimes violently. Suddenly, the umbrella fell to the ground, and I saw the son kissing
his mother . As soon as the umbrella hit the ground, they separated. As the son reached back to pick up the umbrella, I saw my wife reach up to pull
her bra strap, which had slipped down to her arm, back up to her shoulder, and then hold the neckline of her dress.

The son picked up the umbrella and handed it to his mother. They smiled at each other and embraced again. That annoying umbrella,
at this moment, drooped again, blocking my view. I decided to go around to the other side of them, even though it was dangerous, because
I could gather more evidence. As for what use this evidence would be, I hadn't thought about it.

I hadn't expected the woods on the other side to be so difficult to traverse. There was no path, and the vines were dense; a slight misstep would
snag my foot, making a rustling sound. So, by the time I cautiously approached a spot where I could see them, more than
ten minutes had passed.

I was initially afraid of being seen face-to-face, but then I discovered that the two of them were already lying on the grass, their umbrella
held open, facing the grove of trees where I had been standing. If I stayed there, I wouldn't see anything.

They were very close to me, only about five meters away; I could not only see them clearly, but I could also hear their voices.

My wife lay flat on the ground, her blouse completely unbuttoned, revealing a pink bra
loosely covering her chest. My son lay on his side beside her, kissing her.

After a while, Ada's hand reached to my mother's breasts and pulled off her bra. "Is anyone there?" I
heard Liyun ask softly. Ada looked up carefully across the room for a long time: "No."

With the bra off, I watched my wife's full breasts being caressed by my son's hands, and my heart pounded.

After a while, Ada's hand slipped inside my mother's skirt. Liyun's legs pulled up, and her skirt slid down
her thighs, half of it spreading out on the ground, wide open, facing me, revealing her underwear.

My son's hand was inside my mother's crotch, and Liyun's legs moved occasionally. The only sounds around us were the noisy
cicadas and chirping birds; it was very quiet.

A few minutes later, they both sat up at the same time. Liyun lifted her skirt and looked back to make sure no one was there.
She quickly took off her underwear and pulled her skirt down to cover her thighs. Ada wrapped one leg around his mother's hips, put
his other arm around her waist, and kissed her neck. Liyun laughed, turning her head away, her bra falling down. She quickly
held it up, but most of her snow-white breast was still exposed.

Ada stretched his neck and kissed his mother's face, mouth, and chest, then pulled her hand away and took her nipple into his mouth.
He sucked on one, caressed the other, sometimes making his mother's breast long, sometimes squeezing it flat.
Liyun rubbed her son's black hair with both hands, constantly turning her head to see if anyone was coming from behind, and then picked up her umbrella to shield herself from below her shoulders
.

When her son's hand slipped inside her mother's skirt, I felt my throat go dry. Liyun closed her eyes and rested her head on her son's
shoulder , her legs spread apart. I could clearly see Ada's hand rubbing her genitals, then inserting his middle finger into
her vulva. Liyun held the umbrella in one hand and supported her son's chin with the other, kissing him while letting him touch her
genitals .

After the son touched his mother, they looked at each other for a moment, then the son lay down while the mother remained seated, a tacit understanding.
Liyun carefully moved the umbrella, glanced into the distance, stroked her son's lower abdomen for a while, looked around, and
quickly slipped her hand into his underwear.

Ada's legs began to move, his lower body throbbing. Liyun kept glancing around, occasionally looking
down at her son, smiling, then taking out his penis to examine it, before looking around again and continuing to
stroke his penis.

"Mom!" the son suddenly murmured, turning his body towards his mother. Liyun pounced on him as if electrocuted,
lifting one thigh to wrap around his waist, hooking her left arm around his neck and kissing him, while her right hand quickly stroked
his penis. Her legs were spread wide, her entire buttocks exposed to me. I could clearly see,
in the sunlight, a transparent, shimmering thread stretched from my wife's vulva to the tip of a blade of grass, like a spider web.
Then the son's hand covered her vulva, rubbing between her swollen, white labia, making a squelching sound. Both
mother and son's buttocks began to twitch involuntarily.

Ada quickly stopped moving, sighed, and lay back, his limp penis resting on the edge of his underwear. Liyun
kissed him for a while longer, while Ada's fingers gently teased his mother's genitals; his middle,
index, and ring fingers were completely wet. Afterwards,

they cleaned themselves, using a lot of toilet paper to wipe themselves, then putting it all into a
nylon bag —quite hygienic. They wiped each other, my wife squatting on the ground like she was urinating, hugging her son's neck, and letting
him put his hand under his skirt to wipe himself with her underwear.

Soon, the mother and son stood up, and Liyun shyly stuffed her crumpled underwear into her son's pocket, then
the two walked away hand in hand.

I hurriedly followed them down the mountain, and when the mother and son bought drinks at the park's convenience store, I slipped out of the park gate.

As I sat at the restaurant cashier for a while, the mother and son came in one after the other.

"Dad, I'm so hungry, let's cook a couple of dishes," the son said as soon as he entered.

"I'm hungry too, let's eat together. Wang Shichuan, give me some stir-fried frog legs with green peppers!" I said loudly to
the chef Old Wang, and then asked my son, "Want some beer?" He
was completely different from the boy in the park who had rudely pulled up his mother's bra; he had become a shy young man. Although his pockets were still bulging with his mother's
underwear, stained with her vaginal fluid and semen.

"Have some, but don't drink too much," Liyun said, now a dignified and virtuous mother,
sitting upright with her legs together and hands on her knees, even though she was naked underneath her skirt.

During the meal, I inadvertently placed my hand on my wife's thigh, and she gasped as if she had been electrocuted. My son
looked up at her, and I casually withdrew my hand.

My son got up to serve the rice, and my wife whispered, "With so many people around, don't get handsy!" I ignored
her, and she lightly kicked me, laughing and scolding, "Look at your lecherous face!"

After dinner, I said I was going to Old Zhao's to play cards, and my wife said, "Don't go fooling around with them!" I smiled and left
. As soon as I turned the corner, I went straight home, hid my bicycle in the back alley, and went straight to my son's bed.

To make my ambush last longer, I laid out a mattress and a pillow to make myself more comfortable.

Just as I finished, my wife and son returned. Unfortunately, they went back to their rooms, fell asleep immediately, and nothing
happened. I didn't dare come out, and after waiting for a long time, I couldn't help but fall asleep too.

The sound of slippers woke me up. I rolled over and sat up, seeing my wife's feet.

"Want it again?" she asked.

"Mmm."

"Take care of yourself, don't let the teacher say you're listless again."

Two pairs of feet stopped at the head of the bed, only half a foot from my face. I didn't dare breathe too hard, afraid of blowing on
their feet.

The sounds of kissing continued, then I saw my wife's skirt hem rise and disappear from sight, followed by
the soft rustling of hands on skin.

After a while, they both came to the bedside and started arguing about whether to take off all their clothes. My son insisted, but my wife was afraid I would
come back . But in the end, they took off all their clothes. I saw my wife's bra, panties, and robe flutter to the ground one by one, then
her feet disappeared, and the bed creaked. My son knelt down, doing something.

"Is it comfortable?" my son suddenly asked.

"How did you even think of that? Where did you learn that?" "

From a book."

"What book?" "

A classmate borrowed it, do you want to read it?"

"Sure."

After about half a minute of silence, I heard my wife moan. Then my son got into bed.

"How is it?"

"Just hold it gently."

"Like this?"

"Yeah, move it a little."

"Does it feel good?"

"Yeah, like eating an ice pop."

"You're so naughty!"

From the sucking sounds, I guessed what they were doing, and I felt so uncomfortable.

"Take it deeper," my son said.

After a moment of silence.

"Okay." After my son finished speaking, the bed suddenly made a loud noise, and my wife let out a soft "Ah."

I was lying under the bed, my mind a mess, imagining my wife and son having sex in bed.
I couldn't hold back and rushed out.

"Have you two had enough?!" I roared and stood up, startling the naked mother and son on the bed so much that
they almost fainted. I grabbed a chair and smashed it onto the bed.

My wife jumped up to shield our son. The hard wooden chair and her flesh collided with a
horrifying screamed, jumped up, and grabbed me as I rushed forward, crying, "Da-zai, run! Da-zai, run!" Our son
, as if waking from a dream, ran away like the wind. I grabbed my wife's hair and slapped her hard across the face five or six times,
knocking her to the ground.

Around ten o'clock that night, my daughter returned from the restaurant, stunned by the scene at home.

Smashed furniture, cups, bowls, and food were scattered everywhere. I was sitting at the table drinking and eating fried sausages, while my
wife lay naked on the floor, bound hand and foot.

"Dad! What happened? How did it get like this? Huh?" My daughter's contorted face made me feel
a pang of regret. She was innocent. When I decided to destroy this family, I never imagined I would destroy her.

"Mom! What's wrong! Mom!" The daughter reached out to untie her mother's ropes, but her hands trembled, and she couldn't
untie them . Then, her legs gave way, and she collapsed beside her mother, sobbing, "Dad, what happened
? Tell me, waaaah..."

Seeing her daughter so heartbroken, I felt a pang of sadness. I sighed deeply, tears streaming down my face, and pointed to my wife
on the ground saying, "Go ask her, go ask her..."

The daughter shook her mother, covering her with a school uniform jacket she was wearing, and asked her why.
How could my wife face her daughter and tell her shameful secret? She could only bang her head against the ground! The daughter, terrified,
hugged her mother's head and burst into tears.

Just then, I heard the sound of a neighbor opening their door, and someone shouted, "Old Wu, what's wrong? What happened?"
Then I heard footsteps. Soon, there was also a door opening upstairs, and someone asked, "Old Li, what happened at Old Wu's house?"
"I don't know, I'll go check."

I sat there blankly, my mind a complete blank. Suddenly, my daughter jumped up and lunged towards the door. Just then,
someone outside shouted, "Get away from me! This is none of your business!" "Hey, Xiao Wu, calm down...
" "Get out of here!"

It was my son's voice. He appeared in the doorway and slammed it shut. When he
turned around and saw the scene in our home, he stood frozen, as if he had collapsed.

It was midnight.

My son leaned against the door, his eyes staring blankly at the floor, motionless for two hours.

My wife, her ropes cut by my daughter, was wrapped in a towel and helped to lie on the sofa.

My daughter, tears streaming down her face, silently cleaned up the broken house.

I sat motionless in my chair, holding a wine glass, ready to sit there forever.

The room was clean, as if nothing had happened, and it felt like a home again. My daughter sat down
beside me, wiping away tears that kept flowing; her eyes were swollen.

"Go to sleep, you have school tomorrow," I finally managed to say.

My daughter sniffled, remaining silent. I nudged her, but she stubbornly twisted her waist, refusing to move.

I sighed, stood up, and suddenly felt so tired I almost collapsed. My daughter immediately caught me. I walked towards the bedroom,
and she carefully took my arm, helping me to bed.

I didn't want to move at all. My daughter helped me take off my shoes and coat, straightened my legs, and covered me
with a blanket.

After standing for a while, she lowered her head, ready to leave. I called to her, my voice weak, like that of a dying person.

"Mei, don't go, sit with Daddy for a while."

My daughter obediently sat on the edge of my bed, leaned down, and hugged me. Tears streamed down her face, wetting my cheeks. Her
clean school uniform radiated a sunny glow, as if life had been injected into my body. I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, it was already daylight. Last night felt like a nightmare.

Stepping out of the room, I saw my wife still lying on the sofa, my daughter sitting beside her, applying medicine to her back
. The room reeked of medicine. My son sat on a small stool in front of the sofa, head bowed.

Seeing me come out, he glanced at me, then immediately looked away. My wife didn't look at me, but huddled up in a ball.
My daughter looked at me, her hair soaked with tears, her eyes still red, like she'd applied rouge.

The phone rang incessantly, but no one answered. At 10:30, the doorbell rang, but no one wanted to open it.

"Hey! Brother Fa! Open the door!" It was Old Dog's voice.

"Brother Fa! Brother Fa!" Old Zhao was there too; no wonder there had been a car noise earlier.

We sat there blankly, neither of us moving.

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know."

"Was he with you yesterday?"

"No."

"And you?"

The people at the door started discussing; there were clearly four or five of them, all my friends. They stood at the door for a full
twenty minutes, then heard Old Dog say, "Here's what we'll do, Old Li, you go watch the shop for Brother Fa. We'll
think of . If that doesn't work, we'll go to the police station and ask Xiao Li and his friends to help look for him."

After his friends left, the house fell silent again.

When the clock struck twelve, the son suddenly stood up and walked towards the kitchen, his daughter watching him. A moment later,
the daughter suddenly stood up and rushed towards the kitchen: "Ada, what are you doing!" Ada, holding a kitchen knife, pushed
his sister aside and walked towards me. The daughter fell to the ground, got up, and grabbed her brother's leg. The son, with his sister on the ground,
forced his way to me, knelt down, and placed the knife beside me.

"Dad, I'm not human, kill me."

The daughter knelt between me and my son, one arm around her brother's shoulder, the other around my leg, crying uncontrollably.
The wife also got up from the sofa, seemingly enduring immense pain, kneeling on the sofa, her mouth open but unable to cry out,
only repeatedly kowtowing to me.

A bath towel fell from the sofa, her long hair cascading down, covering her face. My wife was still naked, her breasts
swaying incessantly.

I felt it was time to end things, so I got up and said to my son, "Come with me."

My son pushed his sister aside without hesitation and followed me.

"Close the door," I said, entering the bedroom. "Sit down."

My son sat on the edge of the bed, and I sat in my armchair, lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and closed my eyes:
"Tell me the whole story in detail."

"When I was little, I often saw Dad and Mom doing that."

"Hmm, when?"

"I don't remember."

"Hmm, go on."

"I didn't like it then. Then, last month, a classmate showed me a book, the really explicit kind. After reading it,
I started thinking about women."

"Hmm, continue."

"Mom doesn't shy away from me, I often see her. Later, I started thinking about Mom."

"Hmm."

"Mom was washing my pants, and she saw something on them, and asked if I was menstruating."

"Keep talking, don't stop," I said weakly.

"Mom asked me some questions, and I told her, then showed them to her. Later, one day when Mom hugged me, I nudged
her, and she asked if I was very aroused. I said yes, and she told me not to think too much."

From my son's account, I learned that one morning after I went to the hotel, my son came to his mother's room. My
wife was combing her hair, and my son lay down next to her watching. Then he touched his mother's breasts, and she didn't object, and then hugged
him and breastfed him. Then he asked his mother to massage his genitals, and she masturbated him. This was their first
time , and after that, it was unstoppable.

"Mom didn't do anything wrong. I wanted to do it with her, but she kept disagreeing, saying she was sorry to Dad. We always
used our hands , and today was the first time we did it with our mouths."

"Then it ended there, right?" I interrupted my son.

"Maybe, I don't know, but no matter what, it was wrong. Dad can do whatever he wants to me. Please let Mom
go , she's so pitiful, I deserve to die."

"You said you didn't do it, but do you know she went to the hospital for an abortion?" I asked.

"Once, Mom clamped my penis between her legs, and I ejaculated outside her, that's probably it. We were watching a
movie , and we didn't wash up right away. I think that's it."

Outside the door, I heard my wife sobbing, and right there at the door, my daughter was trying to comfort me, her voice trembling with tears. My son stood up
and opened the door; my wife and daughter were kneeling there. My wife was wrapped in a towel again, and my son knelt before his mother:
"Mom, I've told Dad everything."

Seeing my wife and children kneeling at the door, embracing each other and crying, I sighed deeply: "Liyun, do you really like
Ada ?" She didn't answer, just cried. I said, "If you really have no feelings for me anymore, I won't force you."
My wife continued to cry. "But family scandals shouldn't be aired in public. I hope you behave yourself outside."

I reached out and helped them up. "I shouldn't have hit you. You're a person, not my property. You have the right to choose
who you like and who you want to be with."

My daughter looked at me in surprise. "Dad! What did you say?"

I smiled. "Speaking the truth."

My daughter said, "I object to you hitting Mom, but it's Mom and my brother who are wrong."

"What's wrong with them?"

"They, they are, incestuous..." My daughter felt ashamed when she said the last two words.

"So what if it's incest? Dad's anger isn't because they're incestuous, but because of the emotional betrayal."

As we spoke, the mother and daughter kept their heads down, feeling utterly ashamed.

I sighed. "But what right do I have to control other people's feelings?"

My daughter seemed unconvinced, but didn't know how to express it. Originally, she sympathized with her mother, but now, seeing me like this,
she sympathized with me.

"Sigh, you haven't eaten all day. Aren't you hungry?"

"I'll go cook." My wife quickly said.

"Put on your underwear, are you still going to sell yourself?" I said.

My wife blushed, and my daughter, looking like she wanted to laugh but didn't, glared at me.
A hint , and the atmosphere suddenly lightened considerably.

"Go help Mom," I nudged my daughter.

Only my son and I remained in the living room. My daughter grabbed two glasses and poured us beer. I took a sip and
began talking to my son about incest.

At first, he lowered his head in shame, but gradually calmed down, and eventually even started discussing it with me, like
we used to discuss philosophy and science.

The people in the kitchen moved quietly, seemingly afraid of disturbing our conversation, or perhaps eavesdropping. I believe they
all heard us, because when my wife came out again, her complexion was much better.

We started eating, and my son and I were engrossed in our conversation, as if nothing had happened. My wife remained silent,
eating slowly and listening to our discussion. My daughter occasionally offered objections, but I always managed to silence her.

"So, according to you, incest isn't...not that kind of thing?" my daughter asked, dissatisfied.

"Yes, like adultery, incest hurts feelings, but it's not an unforgivable sin," I said.

The mother and son lowered their heads again and remained silent.

Seeing my wife seemingly enduring pain with every bite of food, I realized how heavy the stool had been on her back,
so I said , "Ada, take Mom to the hospital after you finish eating."

Around 2 PM, I heard a large group of people coming upstairs. The doorbell rang, and just as I was about to open it, it opened by itself
. My son helped his mother in, followed by my friends.

"Brother Fa! What happened to you!" Old Zhao was the first to rush in.

"Brother Fa! You scared us half to death!" Old Dog barked wildly at me as soon as he entered.

I stood there, stunned. My wife quickly laughed and said, "It's not his fault. Who knew he'd fall? The mountain was
n't that high; it was just my carelessness." She glanced at me, and I immediately understood her meaning. I said,
"No, no, it was my fault. I shouldn't have taken that risk."

Old Wang sat down, grabbed the bottle of wine on the table, took a sip, and said, "Brother Fa, don't be so old-fashioned. Buy
a cell phone can't take money to the grave! This time, your wife only hurt her back. If something serious had happened that day,
there would be no one to call for help..."

Old Li interjected, "I already told my son that if he couldn't find you this afternoon, he brought a few police officers to climb up and check on you
. We all thought something had happened to you!"

Old Zhao said, "You're in great shape, but your wife is so delicate; she'd be blown away by the wind. Next time, you should take Dazai yourself.
Don't..."

My wife said, "No, I wanted to go myself."

Then my friends took out their phones and kept calling, reporting that we were safe
. The living room practically became a war command center. Luckily, the neighbors were all at work, otherwise, if they had come,
the situation would have been much more chaotic. The neighbors had all heard the commotion from my house, and my wife's version of events to my friends
was probably something like an accident during a hiking trip, which caused a lot of conflict.

I had no choice but to suggest that everyone go to my restaurant for drinks, and everyone agreed. I told my wife and son to stay home and rest, but
Lao Zhao insisted on taking my son along, saying, "You're a man now, come have a couple of drinks with your uncle!" Ada
declined , and I said, "He's very tired, it's fine for us guys to go." Ada said, "Next time I'll definitely
drink my fill with Uncle Zhao."

Back at the restaurant, the employees cheered and asked all sorts of questions. The lively
atmosphere was packed.

At midnight, the restaurant closed, and Lao Zhao drove me home.

After saying goodbye, I went upstairs. Before I could even take out my keys, the door opened. My daughter was waiting for me, and my wife and
son were in the living room.

"Didn't you go to school today?" I asked casually.

"I took the day off," my daughter said.

I stood in the middle, looked at my family, and said, "Go to sleep? Aren't you going to sleep? You're taking the day off again tomorrow?" Everyone laughed and
got up.

I went into the bedroom, undressed, and then took a shower. When I returned to the room, my wife was already sitting on the bed.
I looked at her, and she lowered her head shyly, rubbing the hem of her robe.

"Tonight," I said, and she listened attentively, "you, go, go sleep in Ada's room." My wife shuddered
, and her smile vanished.

"I mean it," I said. She was silent.

I reached out to pull her, and she suddenly started to sob.

"What's wrong? I didn't mean anything by it. Believe me, I just want you all, and everyone else, to be happy."

I pushed her again, but she twisted her body and shook me off. I tried to persuade her for a long time, but she just wouldn't listen, so I had no choice but to leave the room.

I knocked on my son's door when I got up.

"Dad?"

"Can't sleep?"

"..."

"Do you remember what I told you at noon?"

"Yes."

"Are you a man?"

"..."

"Go, go to Dad's room, Mom's waiting for you."

My son was uneasy.

"You know Dad best, Dad's serious."

My son glanced at me and lowered his head.

"Go on." I gave him a push, and he slowly walked away.

I went into my son's room, closed the door, and lay down on his bed. A moment later, the door opened, and I looked up to see
my wife walk in.

She slowly walked to the bedside, stood there with her head down, twisting her clothes. I got up and started to leave, but she grabbed me, her
voice trembling with tears, "Ah Fa..."

"Shh..." I covered her mouth, pushed her to the bedside, gently pressed her down to sit, waved my hand to signal her
not to get up, and walked out.

Back in my room, I saw my son sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in thought. I scolded him, "Look at you, you're useless
. Mom's waiting for you in your room, go now!"

"Dad..."

"Stop trembling! Come on!" I pulled him up, pushed him out, closed the door, and locked it.

Lying down, my mind was in turmoil. The space beside me felt empty, as if I had lost something.

There were occasional footsteps outside, the sound of doors opening and closing, and whispers.

I listened quietly, and then someone knocked on the door.

"Stop making noise! Go to sleep!" I said impatiently.

"Dad, it's me," my daughter said timidly.

"What is it?"

There was no answer.

I got up and opened the door. My daughter stood there in her nightgown. Looking behind her, there was no one, but my son's
door was ajar.

"What is it?"

She blinked, looking down, and said, "Mom wants me to come and keep you company..."

"No need," I said, closing the door and lying back down on the bed.

A moment later, there was another knock.

"Who is it?"

"Dad..." came my daughter's voice.

"Aren't you asleep yet? What are you doing?"

There was no answer, just another knock on the door.

I got up and opened the door. My daughter immediately came in, glanced at me, and said, "Dad, I
can't sleep alone . Stay with me."

"You always sleep alone."

"My mind is so confused today, I can't sleep."

After hesitating for a moment, I sighed, "Okay." I didn't close the door and went back to bed. My daughter sat on the edge of the bed for a
while, then got up, closed the door, locked it, and quietly got into bed. I jumped out of bed, opened the door, and went back to lie down.
My daughter chuckled but ignored me.

After tossing and turning for a long time, I finally couldn't resist, reached out and hugged my daughter, held her in my arms, and quickly fell asleep.

When I woke up in the morning, it was already bright. My daughter's head was on my arm, her beautiful legs were draped over my lap, and she was sleeping
soundly. I stirred, and she woke up too: "Ah! What time is it!"

"It's 7:30!" I hurriedly got up: "You should go to the hotel, oh, we're going to be late."

My daughter rushed after me, opening the door to our room. The house was empty. My son's door was wide open, the blankets
neatly folded. A sense of foreboding washed over me: they were both gone, gone far away.

"Dad, look," my daughter called. I turned around and saw her holding a note hanging from the doorknob.
I stepped over picked it up. It read: "Ah Fa, Ah Mei, you can sleep soundly. Ah Da and I will manage the hotel.
Your wife, Yunliu." So that's it.

After washing up, my daughter and I went to the hotel. The streets were bustling with people, and the hotel was as lively as ever. The staff
were busy greeting customers, and my wife sat at the entrance, greeting customers and collecting money, her face beaming with smiles. I saw
my son ; he was wearing his school uniform and apron, running around serving soy milk and fried dough sticks to customers, a look of indescribable
joy on his face.

My daughter, seeing her brother, burst out laughing. We went inside, and the customers all asked, "
What's up , Mr. Wu? Changing shifts today? Slacking off?" I smiled and said, "No, no..." but didn't know
how to explain. The customers said, "You must be slacking off!" My wife turned around and smiled, "From today onwards, we take turns..."
"Here it comes, we change it every six months!" A guest asked why we didn't do this before, and my wife replied, "Before, the children were
small, and I had to take care of them. Now they're older and can help. I'm just sitting at home doing nothing, so I might as well
come out help." It was a flawless explanation, and the guests were all convinced and had no further questions.

I said to my son, "It's time for school, hurry up and have breakfast." My son agreed, took off his apron, and ate breakfast with
us in the kitchen. Then the two siblings rode off on their bikes.

At first, I still tried to persuade my wife to sleep in my son's room every night. She would always refuse for a while, then reluctantly leave
and immediately call my daughter to come and keep me company. A few times, I was determined not to let my daughter in, but my wife would unlock the door
and come back to sleep with me, so I had to agree to let my daughter stay with me. Over time, I didn't need to persuade her anymore.

Every night when it was time to go to sleep, after saying goodnight to each other, my wife would go to my son's room to sleep, and my daughter would sleep with me. There
was no more arguing, which saved me a lot of trouble.

A week later, I bought my son a big bed. When the mother and son returned home that evening, they were both surprised and embarrassed to see the brand-new
Simmons mattress in the room. My wife complained, "What are you up to?" My son also
hesitated, "I don't want a big bed."

I smiled and said, "Isn't it more intimate to squeeze into a small bed? Okay, I'll get
one scolded, "Nonsense!" She had two broken ribs that hadn't fully healed, and the push made her
wince in pain. My son quickly supported his mother, his concern evident.

These past few days, at least in front of me, they had been well-behaved, their words and actions respectful, not even holding hands,
let alone showing any affection. Until another week passed.

That morning, I got up early because I didn't need to go to the restaurant for a meal, and my daughter and I
couldn't break early, so we decided to exercise instead. So, from that day on, we started running.

When we got up, it was just getting light, and the mother and son were still asleep. As we got ready to leave,
the son's bedroom door opened.

The mother and son walked out slowly, embracing each other intimately. They were startled when they suddenly saw us. The son asked,
"Dad, where are you going?"

"Going for a run!" I said, glancing at my wife.

My wife, with her arms around my son's waist, glanced at me, lowered her head shyly, and rested her face against my son's
chest , a sweet smile on her face, her cheeks flushed.

My son looked down at his mother, then at me, smiled shyly, and said, "Come back early."

I agreed and took my daughter out. I knew in my heart that from this day forward, my beloved wife belonged to my son
.

Changes slowly began to occur at home.

At meals, my wife would sit beside me, exchanging flirtatious glances with
my son .

My wife's underwear, initially kept in our bedroom closet, gradually disappeared and hung in
my son's closet. When her last personal belongings were moved to my son's room, everything my daughter owned
naturally took her mother's place.

I still kept a close eye on their every move. Their open-minded language and indifferent attitude couldn't bring me
true peace.

Whenever I was alone, I would count the condoms on the bedside table, because I still went to the family planning office to get them as usual.
If I didn't go, Old Lady Zhang would ask me all sorts of questions. My wife would come to borrow some from me without my knowledge. Although I never
saw her come in to take them, the number would decrease every day.

I would also nervously rummage through the trash in the bathroom, finding condoms filled with semen and pondering them alone.

Nothing happened between my daughter and me. Although we shared a bed, sometimes we would see
things we shouldn't. It wouldn't be true to say that I had never had feelings for my daughter. It was just a fleeting moment
, and not a strong one, well within my self-control.

In a month, I only called my son's school once. The teacher happily told me, "Wuda's
grades have improved dramatically. He's no longer late or absent, and he's become a leader in his class, leading the whole class to good grades. He's the class monitor this semester." My son hadn't mentioned
any of this to me . My wife started looking at me and my daughter with worried eyes. Sometimes I saw her secretly pull my daughter aside and ask her something . When my daughter came back, I would ask her, "What did Mom say to you just now?" My daughter would always shake her head and not answer. One evening, my son handed me a package. "What's this?" "You'll know when you see it." I opened it and saw some underwear. "Why did you buy this? Dad has some more." My son laughed, "We don't have any more." I said dismissively, "Don't buy any more. Dad will buy some himself if he wants them." That night, when I was taking a shower, I realized that all the old underwear in the closet was gone. I had to open the underwear my son had given me and put it on. Good heavens, it was so tight, and my penis was throbbing. When my daughter came in, I quickly turned my back. When I saw my daughter later, I was surprised again: "Whose is this?" I asked my daughter, looking at her semi-transparent nightgown. Her sexy panties and bra were vaguely visible underneath. My daughter blushed and said, "Mom gave it to me." When I opened the closet , I found that my daughter's two nightgowns were also missing. "Sigh, what kind of nonsense is this?" I said. After I lay down, my daughter got into bed too. When she took off her underwear, I was startled: "What are you doing?" My daughter put her hand on the edge of her underwear, looked at me, and said a little shyly in a low voice, "It's so tight, it's so uncomfortable ." I was speechless. My daughter took off her underwear, lay down next to me, and asked softly, "Are you taking yours off?" I said, "No." That night I didn't dare to hug my daughter, but I couldn't sleep soundly. Finally, I hugged her and fell asleep. In the middle of the night, I had a dream. I dreamed that my wife was lying on the bed, her buttocks raised high, and my son was on her back . They were both moaning, and I felt a surge of emotion, and a stream of semen shot out. I woke up with a scream, drenched in sweat. My daughter was also woken up by me, and asked sleepily, "Dad, what's wrong?" "Nothing, Dad had a wet dream." I remembered, but my whole body was weak, and my hands and feet were numb. My daughter turned on the light, lifted the blanket and looked, and took off my underwear. For some reason, I didn't stop her. My daughter took my underwear and gently wiped the semen off my testicles, penis, and lower abdomen. She then tore off some toilet paper and wiped again. As she pinched my glans with her fingers and carefully wiped the shaft, I felt a surge of excitement.

After turning off the lights, my daughter said to me, "The book says that tight underwear can cause wet dreams." I understood what she meant, so
I didn't ask her to change her underwear and went to sleep like that.

When I woke up in the morning, my daughter was still fast asleep in my arms, her girlish breath tickling my neck.
I sat up and suddenly noticed that one of my daughter's snow-white thighs was draped over my stomach. Her nightgown had slipped down to her waist, exposing her
full buttocks, and a tuft of light pubic hair at the base of her spread legs caught my eye. As soon as I moved,
my daughter immediately pulled her leg back, rolled over, and woke up too.

I didn't dare look anymore and just said, "Get up, go for a run."

As dawn broke, I opened the wardrobe, took out my underwear, and put it on. My daughter also put on her underwear, got out of bed, stood beside me,
took off her nightgown, turned her back to me, and said, "Dad, help me loosen it." I helped my daughter loosen her bra, and she took
another sports bra and put it on. Then she looked back at me, and I helped her fasten it.

When I opened the door, my wife and son were also getting ready to leave. The two stood at the door. Their son, in his school uniform and carrying
a backpack, had his arms around his mother's waist. His wife stood in front of him, adjusting his tie.

Seeing us come out, they greeted each other good morning. I went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. My daughter was called away by
her mother, and they were talking about something. They didn't leave until I came out. I asked my daughter what she had been saying, but as usual, she smiled and lowered her head without answering.

That evening, I was wearing shorts, a towel draped over my shoulder, and was about to take a shower when my wife pulled me into our daughter's
almost empty room: "Amei said that last night you…"

I smiled and didn't say anything.

My wife said guiltily, "I'm sorry."

I shook my head: "Don't say that."

My wife came closer, hugged me, kissed me, and gently stroked my body: "You
can call me anytime you want."

I pushed her away: "How can you do this to Ada?"

My wife blushed slightly, didn't move again, held my hand, remained silent for a long time, and said, "If you like,
you can sleep with Amei. I won't blame you."

I thought to myself: Do you have the right to blame me? I said, "I'm not like you."

My wife, her face full of shame, choked for a while before finally saying, "I'm a shameless woman..."

I regretted it a little: "Don't say that!"

After a moment of silence, my wife said again, "To be honest, you have no interest in Amei at all?"

I said, "That's not it."

"Then why..." My wife started to say, then stopped, probably afraid I would say that again.
After thinking for a moment , she said, "Don't worry, Amei likes you." Then she hurriedly left.

I was in a daze for a while, then went out too. I saw my son sitting in the living room, looking sullen. When he saw me come out, he glanced at me
sideways, seemingly unhappy.

I ignored him and went straight to take a shower.

When I came out, my son had changed to a fawning smile, and my wife was sitting next to him. I thought the mother and son
had explained things clearly.

Lying on the bed, I turned my head to look at my daughter. Usually, I wouldn't even look at her, and would just casually pull her into my arms. She
was looking at me too. I hugged her and kissed her. She smiled and closed her eyes. I kissed her lips and then pulled away. My daughter's
small mouth was slightly open, her bright red tongue trembling. I couldn't resist kissing her again, capturing her seemingly melting
tongue in my mouth.

Nothing happened that night.

When I opened my eyes in the morning, my daughter was no longer beside me. Turning my head, I found her sitting at her dressing table, getting ready. This was
the first time; she usually didn't wear makeup.

My daughter wasn't wearing a bra, only underwear, her two nipples perked up. Seeing me looking at her, she turned and smiled,
her beauty captivating.

I sat up and sat behind her. She moved forward slightly, making room for me to hold her. I took
her comb and, like when she was little, began to comb her hair. The difference was that when she was little, she would fidget while I combed her hair;
now, she sat obediently in my lap.

Looking at my beautiful daughter in the mirror, she lowered her head shyly, then looked up again, gazing intently. I hugged her waist and kissed her
neck, making her curl her shoulders and laugh, tilting her head to the side.

After braiding her hair, my daughter raised her hand to stroke it, her breasts standing tall and firm. She looked back at me, as if asking, "
Am I pretty?" I smiled and kissed her in response.

There was a noise at the door. I turned around and saw my wife sticking out her tongue at me with a smile before pulling it back. I then realized I was
completely naked.

To avoid suspicion, we hurriedly dressed and went out. I went into the bathroom, and my wife pulled my daughter aside, whispering with a smile,
"Congratulations!"

I snorted and walked away.

When I came out, my wife's smile had turned into worry.

At noon, I was playing cards with Lao Jiang and the others when the phone rang. I answered, "Hello?"

"Dad!" my daughter's voice was excited.

"What is it?"

"Dad, I've made lunch. Come home and eat!"

"What? Don't you eat at school? Why did you come back?" I asked, puzzled. Because my daughter's school
was much farther than my son's, a twenty-minute bike ride away, it took a lot of time, so she always ate lunch at school.

"Are you coming back or not?" My daughter asked, her voice trembling with sadness.

I felt a pang of heartache. "Okay, okay, Daddy will come back for dinner."

"Thank you, Daddy!" she shrieked, then hung up.

"Hey, Xiaomei's so filial," Old Dog said, rolling his eyes.

"You're not really going back, are you?" Old Jiang asked.

"Just a little while, I'll be right back after dinner," I said.

When I got home, my daughter helped me sit down, forbidding me from asking her any questions. Humming a song, she happily brought out the dishes.

"Is it good?" she asked, resting her chin on her hand as I ate.

"Hmm, it's good." Actually, it wasn't that great.

My daughter beamed. "How about I come back every day and cook for you?"

"Yes, yes, yes, no!"

"Oh?"

"You're always running around without resting, that's not good, it's too tiring," I said. "I

'm not afraid! As long as Daddy likes it, I'll come back and cook every day."

No matter what I said, my daughter wouldn't agree unless I complained that her cooking wasn't good. But could I bear to say that?

One evening, two weeks later, my wife called me aside again.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

She looked worried and handed me a piece of paper. "This is Amei's report card. I've been afraid to show it to you."

I took it and looked at it. It read: "...Wu Mei...her grades have dropped significantly. She doesn't pay attention in class, reads
extracurricular books,...

loves to dress up...Chinese: 75, Algebra: 60, Geometry: 70...Conduct: B..."

"What happened?" I asked my wife. From childhood to adulthood, our daughter's grades had never fallen below 80,
her conduct was always top-notch, and her teachers' comments were always things like "hardworking, disciplined, respectful to teachers, and with
excellent .

" "Go ask her," my wife said, handing me two books: "These were confiscated by the teacher for reading in class
."

I looked at them and saw they were books. At that moment, I almost burst into tears.

Back in the bedroom, my daughter was admiring herself in the mirror. She had changed into a new light green spaghetti-strap silk nightgown with
dark green bamboo leaves printed on it. The dress was short, just covering her upper thighs, revealing two full, long legs, even more delicate than
silk .

"Dad, does it look good? I picked it out myself." Seeing me come in, my daughter swayed her slender waist slightly and asked with a smile.

"Great!" I said sincerely.

My daughter jumped up with a smile, her arms slightly outstretched, waiting for my embrace. With her light leap, the bottom of her white panties
was revealed, but I hid my hands behind my back. My daughter was startled: "Dad?" I thought for a moment, then moved my hand
over and held it out to her. When she saw her books and report card, her smile vanished.

Seeing her unhappy expression, my chest tightened, and I felt a pang of sadness. I took the books from her hands, put them
aside, and hugged her tightly. My daughter buried her face in my chest and sobbed.

I was overwhelmed with emotion, unsure of what to say. I felt a thousand words welling up inside me, yet I couldn't utter a
single one. The door wasn't closed, and the living room lights were off, but I saw two figures embracing, standing in the darkness, looking at us
.

Suddenly, a song popped into my head—a song I often listened to as a child, a song I often sang to my daughter when she was little.
At that moment , I held my daughter, gently rocking her, and hummed this song we both knew so well.

"Dragonflies fly by in the sunlight, fields of green rice paddies..."

My daughter stopped crying and listened intently.

"I always realize I've only done a little bit of my homework before bed; I always
realize I haven't studied what I should have studied after the exam..." My daughter chuckled as I sang this line in a humorous tone.

My body swayed more vigorously, and along with the song, my daughter began to sway gently with me.

"Time is money, but the teacher said you can't buy back time with money..."

We hugged, hummed softly, and swayed, and my daughter hummed along with me.

After the song ended, I said softly, "Promise Daddy you'll be a good girl at school."

"Okay!" my daughter replied.

"The teacher said you're not very focused at school." I sang this line to the tune of the song.
"Can you tell Daddy what's wrong?"

My daughter chuckled again but didn't answer.

"Tell me." I kissed her. "I miss Daddy." My daughter kissed me back. "You miss him in class too?"

I kissed her. " I especially miss him in class." My daughter kissed me back. "What do you miss about Daddy?" I kissed her. "I miss the things Daddy said, the way he looked, when I was with him." I returned the kiss. "Can't you concentrate?" "No, it hurts." Tears welled up in my daughter's eyes again. "Aren't there any good boys in your class?" "They're all trash, idiots!" my daughter said disgustedly. I was speechless for a moment. "I'm always so happy when I'm with Daddy." My daughter hugged my neck and murmured to herself, a gentle kiss landing on my lips. I glanced at the living room; my wife was already sitting on my son's lap, the two of them kissing, then looking at us. I wanted to close the door, but I was afraid of disturbing my daughter. "Say something, Daddy," my daughter said softly, "I want to hear your voice." "You just promised Daddy you would study hard." "Yes." "Can you do that?" "Yes." "What if you miss Daddy again?" My daughter was silent. "How can I stop thinking about Daddy during class?" Silence. "Say something, Daddy wants to hear your voice." I mimicked her words. My daughter chuckled, playfully hit me, and buried her face in my chest. "Unless..." "Hmm?" "Unless Daddy treats me better, otherwise..." "What?" "Or be mean to me." As soon as she said it, she quickly added, "Oh no, I can't stand Daddy being mean to me." She hugged me tightly. "I was so scared when I saw Daddy hit Mommy that day. If Daddy ever hits me, I think I'll die." "You!" I covered her mouth with my hand. "Do you think Daddy will hit you?" "Yes, if I misbehave." "Oh, no. Even if you misbehave, Daddy can't bear to hit you." "Dad, why are you so good to me?" "Because you're Daddy's daughter, Daddy's darling, Daddy's most beloved..." My daughter smiled; I could feel it. "Now, Daddy's little princess, it's time to sleep," I said. "Listen to Daddy," my daughter smiled and closed her eyes. My daughter and I took off our pants and got into bed. I asked her, "Do you like sleeping with Daddy?" "Yes." "Why?" "It's so liberating." My daughter said, taking off her nightgown. I helped her loosen her bra. "Do you feel restricted sleeping alone?" "Sometimes I'm scared." My daughter took off her bra, rubbed her breasts, smiled at me, lay down in my arms, and hugged me, one breast rubbing against my armpit. I casually picked it up and squeezed it; it was smooth and soft. Suddenly, my daughter climbed on top of me, thrusting her chest out and saying, "Daddy, I'll breastfeed you." "Okay." I opened my mouth and suckled her nipple. She giggled and rolled off, "It tickles!" "I want to hug Daddy while I sleep," she said. "It's uncomfortable to hold your hands. Daddy will have someone fix the bed tomorrow." The next day, I called a carpenter, who cut a groove in the bed board under the pillow so that my daughter could reach under and hug me. My wife became increasingly concerned about our intimate affair and tried to bring us together. On Saturday, she suggested everyone take a day off and asked me to ask Lao Zhao to watch the shop for me, and then I would watch the shop for Lao Zhao next Monday as compensation. We borrowed Lao Zhao's car, and our family went swimming at the beach. My wife bought our daughter a new swimsuit, the kind with a slit...

It reached her upper thighs, revealing her groin. When my daughter appeared, my eyes lit up. I had seen her naked before, but
I hadn't expected her to be even more sexy and alluring in her swimsuit. My penis involuntarily became erect, the thin swim trunks making me
look incredibly awkward .

My wife, thirty-four, still possessed undiminished charm. She wore the same swimsuit, exuding an even more mature woman
's allure.

As we walked into the sea, my wife nudged my elbow and said, "Look at Amei, her pubic hair is showing. Quickly, help her
tidy ."

Embarrassed, my wife pulled my daughter over. I carefully sat down, but the crotch of my swimsuit was too narrow,
and it only covered me for a short while before it was exposed again. I asked my wife, puzzled, why this didn't happen. She lifted her crotch to show me;
it turned out she had shaved her pubic hair.

My wife and daughter went into deeper water, screaming and laughing in the waves, having a great time. My daughter and I sat in the shallows watching
them frolic.

After a while, they stopped screaming and embraced and kissed in shoulder-deep water. My fifteen-year-old son was already
as tall as his mother, but in the sea, she was a head taller than him, clearly riding on his waist.

After a while, they came ashore. My wife, panting, said to us, "Why don't you go back in and play? Come on!" My

daughter said, "I can't swim."

"If you can't, Daddy will teach you. Come on!"

We had no choice but to hold hands and walk into deeper water. This time, it was my daughter's turn to cling to me and scream. Women love to scream.

My wife waved to us encouragingly from the shore, and my son, clinging to his mother from behind, waved back.

A week later, the principal of my daughter's school called me in. He showed me my daughter's test paper, then had her homeroom
teacher talk to me, and later secretly took me to watch my daughter in class. When I saw my daughter
sitting , chin in hand, lost in thought, I felt both heartbroken and anxious.

As I left the school, the homeroom teacher said to me, "Wu Mei has always been a good student. We don't understand how she
ended up like this. We've talked to her many times, but to no avail. The teachers all think she's in a relationship but can't find
a partner. Now that we hear from you, it turns out she's busy with housework after school every day and then goes home, so she has no time for dating
. This makes us even more confused."

I said, "I'll pay more attention and contact the school immediately if anything happens. Thank you for your concern."

Back at the hotel, I told my wife about the situation. She looked at me worriedly and said, "If you don't blame
me, I want to say one thing: it's all your fault." I didn't say anything. She continued, "When you were together,
did you pay attention to A-Mei's physical reaction?"

That evening, after returning home, my wife suddenly asked our son to buy her something, saying she needed it urgently. After our son left,
my wife pulled me into our daughter's empty room, closed the door, and said, "Let's do it together one more time, so you don't get too pent up."
Then she took off her underwear. I asked, "Does Ada agree?" My wife shook her head. "No need to tell him."

"Since you're with him, you have to be faithful to your relationship."

"Don't worry about that. Just because I'm with you doesn't mean I'm betraying our relationship."

I hadn't done it in a long time, and even the slightest stimulation would make me erect, but I didn't move.

My wife couldn't persuade me until my son was almost home. Finally, she said helplessly as she put on her pants,
"We've always appreciated your tolerance, but if only you were as tolerant of yourself as you are of others." As she was leaving
, she added, "I know you have feelings for Amei."

As soon as my son entered, he looked at everyone warily, then pulled his mother into the room.
I saw Liyun glare at him, then look at me before following him in.

When they came out again, my wife was furious, while my son looked ashamed. I heard my wife
scolding , but I could hear her: "You're better than your father in every way, except for this little bit of magnanimity,
not even a little bit! Are you even acting like a man?"

I laughed, a very happy laugh. But if your heart can truly open, you'll smell the bitterness in my heart.

Not very bitter, just a little. But that's enough.

My daughter, having finished her bath, walked towards me wearing a blue and white polka-dot skirt, her wet hair tied up
. She stood beside me, cool water droplets falling on my face and the back of my hands. My gaze
moved from her thighs to her waist, her not-yet-full breasts, and then I saw her smile. My wife went into the bathroom, and my son went back to his room.
My daughter sat on my lap; I liked the feeling of her smooth thighs rubbing against mine.

"Your principal called me to your school today," I said. My daughter's face changed; she lowered her head, fiddling with the hem of her skirt,
a corner of her snow-white underwear peeking out.

"I saw what you were like in class," I continued. My daughter turned her face away, looking at the floor.

"It's Daddy's fault," I said. My daughter turned around: "Why do you say that?"

"Because you weren't like this before, you only changed after you came with Dad."

"No!"

"Yes."

"No! Dad, don't talk nonsense." My daughter pressed her face against mine and said gently, "Look, your little brother
used to be so good, but after he came with Mom, he wasn't so good anymore, and then he got better again."

I didn't say anything; I understood what my daughter meant. But I couldn't do what my wife did.

When my wife came out of the shower, my daughter and I were drinking.

"Wow, what's going on with you two?" she asked in surprise.

We didn't answer her. My daughter took a sip, then put the bottle in my mouth, and then drank some herself.

"Drinking from the same cup?" my wife joked.

My daughter got drunk, and I carried her back to her room.

The next morning, when she woke up, she saw that she was still wearing the clothes from last night and left without a word.

That night, my daughter didn't come to my room; she went back to her own bedroom to sleep. That night, I finally understood what it
meant to be heartbroken.

When my wife woke up in the morning, she realized I was alone.

It was evening again, and I heard my wife knocking on our daughter's bedroom door, but she wouldn't open it. After a while, I heard her
unlock the door and go inside. A moment later, I heard my daughter crying, "I'm not that cheap!" The door slammed shut, and
my wife sighed in the living room.

In the middle of the night, I faintly heard sobbing coming from our daughter's room. I got up and went out; the sound was clearer.
When I got to our daughter's door, it was her.

I gently knocked: "Amei?" The crying stopped abruptly: "Amei, open the door." There was no response.
I stood there until the clock struck two, when the door suddenly opened a crack: "Amei!" I called out, and the door closed again.
Behind the door, I heard sobbing.

Exhausted and heartbroken, I leaned against the wall and slowly sat down on the floor.

The clock struck four, and I woke up. The door opened again, and my daughter stood in the doorway, looking down at me. I
looked up at her.

After a long while, she gritted her teeth and cursed, "Squatting at the door like a dog!" I smiled.

"Get in here! You're an eyesore!" my daughter said fiercely.

The next morning, we were awakened by banging on the door and my wife's terrified shouts: "Amei, open the door quickly! Your
father is missing!

Amei!"

We smiled at each other, neither of us opening the door. Then my wife and son unlocked the door and rushed in. My daughter
hurriedly grabbed a towel to cover her breasts, and I said impatiently, "What's all the fuss about so early in the morning!" My wife was so angry that she pulled
back the sheet and spanked my bottom hard.

Not long after getting up, I looked at the clock; it was almost eight o'clock. I said, "Ada, Amei, aren't you going to school yet?
Want to be late?"

My son looked indifferent, smiled coolly, and seemed mysterious. I thought for a moment; today wasn't
Sunday. I glanced at the calendar; it wasn't a holiday. I asked my wife, "Did you ask for leave for them again?" My daughter
playfully hit me, saying, "We're on summer vacation! You idiot

!" "Oh? Oh!" I laughed too.

"Dad, I have good news for you," my son said.

"What is it?"

"I skipped a grade!"

"Hehehe, really?"

"Of course! Look!" My son pulled out a certificate, a certificate, and a letter from the school to show me. Sure
enough, my son had skipped a grade and was now in the same grade as his sister. As I looked at the certificate, my wife proudly hugged my son,
her face full of happiness and pride.

After a moment of joy, I remembered my daughter.

I turned around, but she was gone. "This can't go on," my wife whispered, then stopped when she saw my daughter come out
.

"I also have good news for you," I said.

Everyone urged me eagerly, so I slowly said, "We'll have a car."

"Hooray!!!" my son shouted the loudest.

A few days later, I bought a Beijing Jeep, one of those old-fashioned military vehicles with a canvas top. Old Zhao
scoffed , "Brother Fa, I thought you'd buy something amazing once you start, but who knew... sigh, you've disappointed me so much.
You can't take money to the grave, what's the point of saving it?" I said, "I'm only in my thirties, do you want me to be in a coffin so soon
?" Old Zhao said, "Sigh, you really are something."

Mrs. Zhao said angrily, "What nonsense are you spouting? Learn from Brother Fa, slow and steady wins the race!" Old
Zhao retorted irritably, "Your mother's cunt is overflowing with lust!" Our daughter, hearing this, ran away in embarrassment.
Mrs. Zhao cursed, "You rotten mouth! There's a young woman here, Xiao Mei, and you can't shut your shitty mouth! I'll fuck your
mother's rotten cunt!"

Throughout the summer vacation, this car became the family's source of joy, and they drove it on trips almost every day.
Our son, true to his skipping-grade nature, learned to drive in no time and mastered it in a day or two. When he was driving on the road without any documents
, he almost got hit by a car. He jumped out and yelled, "Do you even know how to drive?
Do you even have a driver's license?"

Like all country bumpkins, the first time we drove, our whole family dressed up nicely; my son
and I were both in suits. As we passed Old Dog's house, his eight-year-old son was sitting at the door eating, and as soon as
we stopped, he shouted, "Dad!

Come quick! Two overseas Chinese are here!" Embarrassed, we pulled our feet back and ran away.

That evening, after dinner, while watching TV, my wife suddenly said to me, "Go check the kitchen."
I went to the kitchen, puzzled, and saw my daughter washing dishes. My son was hugging his sister from behind, touching her thigh under her short skirt. My
daughter kept squirming and whispering to stop him. When he saw me come in, he immediately ran away.

The first day we drove to the suburbs, we thought it was a long drive, so we found an open space. I taught my son to drive, while my daughter and
wife sat and watched. The second day, my son taught his mother to drive, while my daughter and I watched. On the third day,
my son taught his sister to drive, but after only a short while, they started arguing in the car. When the car stopped, my daughter angrily jumped
out and refused to learn anymore. When I asked her why, she blushed and wouldn't say.

That evening, I heard commotion coming from the bathroom again. I put down my newspaper to check and saw my daughter
sitting on the floor, struggling with a flushed face. My son, wearing shorts and a vest, sat behind his sister, one arm around her waist
and the other touching her private parts.

I chased my son away and angrily returned to the living room. My wife mocked, "What's there to be angry about? You
wouldn't want it , but you're unhappy if someone else takes it."

Things seemed to be getting worse. On the third day, after we went out driving, my wife asked me to teach her to drive. Then I
saw my daughter sitting by the river, and my son sitting beside her, embracing and kissing her. My daughter didn't seem to resist much. When
we returned after our second drive, my son was already forcibly kissing his sister. That

evening, I heard my son and his mother arguing in his room. During dinner, my wife
spoke coldly , and their relationship began to deteriorate. That night, my daughter and I didn't speak to each other.

On the morning of the fourth day of summer vacation, my daughter and son were nowhere to be found. I went downstairs and the car
was gone . They didn't return until evening. As soon as

my son entered, my wife dragged him into the room. The door closed, and a heated argument erupted from inside
. A short while later, I heard my wife crying, and the argument subsided.

At dinner, I called them several times before they finally came out. My wife's face was still wet with tears. As she
passed , she muttered, "You slut!" My daughter remained expressionless, eating with her head down.

That night, I didn't touch my daughter, not even glancing at her. In the middle of the night, she sat up and asked, "Dad,
if you don't like it, I'm going back to my room to sleep." I didn't answer. My daughter stood up and said softly, "Then I'm leaving."

As the door closed, I suddenly couldn't control myself, and tears streamed down my face.

Around 1 a.m., I heard my wife's wailing from the living room: "Oh my god, oh my god..."
When I opened the door, I saw my wife collapsed at the door of my daughter's room. My daughter's bedroom door was ajar, and my son quickly came out,
wearing his underwear.

He said impatiently, "Why are you crying again?" My wife sobbed, "You said you were going to the bathroom, but you didn't come back for ages. Mom knew what you were up to.
God, I might as well die..."

That morning, I had a high fever and fell into a coma.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. The first person I saw when I opened my eyes was my daughter.

"Dad..."

"What are you doing here?" I asked coldly.

"Nothing," my daughter said softly, "because someone was talking nonsense, calling my name all the time, so I
came to check on them.

If I don't need it, I'll leave." I felt a salty taste in my throat, and with a wails, I lost consciousness again.

When I woke up, my daughter was crying her eyes out. My wife complained, "I don't understand what you two
are doing?

Do you have a grudge? Are you going to torture each other to death?"

My daughter sobbed, "Who's torturing whom? Who's torturing whom? Explain yourself, sob sob sob..."

My wife snapped, "I don't care anymore, if you want to die, go die yourselves!" and got up to leave.

My daughter suddenly stood up, seemingly about to leave too.

I wept, and said weakly, "Amei, if you're going to leave too, kill your father first,
please...

" My daughter's legs went weak, and she sat down in a chair, crying.

Six months later...

I sat alone on a rock by the sea, watching the sunset over the ocean.

The sea breeze blew, carrying a sense of sorrow and desolation. The waves crashed against the shore, as if weeping.

The great river flows eastward, its waves washing away countless heroes of the past.

I asked myself: What is the meaning of life?

A soft, white hand gently rested on my shoulder: "Dad, shouldn't we go?"

"Sit a little longer."

My seventeen-year-old daughter squatted down beside me with difficulty, scolding, "You knew I couldn't sit still, really!"

Seeing my daughter's prominent belly, I suddenly realized what was happening and quickly helped her to her feet.

My daughter stroked her round belly, complaining, "You don't care about me at all, I really regret it
..."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, baby, Daddy will kneel down and apologize!"

"Get lost, don't give me that!" My daughter said sternly, then couldn't help but laugh.

I hugged her and asked softly, "Are you really going to give up your studies and give birth to this baby?"

"Why so much nonsense!?" My daughter's eyebrows furrowed, her almond eyes wide. "How many times do I have to tell you before you
stop !?"

"Ah, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Daddy shouldn't have been so nagging. Okay, don't be angry, my little princess
. It's not good to upset the baby." I apologized repeatedly, and my daughter finally snorted, proudly extending a hand:
"Help me back!"

"Yes, yes, be careful, baby."

My daughter suppressed a laugh, taking my hand and slowly walking across the rocks.

My wife and son were waiting for us by the car on the shore.

"Look at you, running around with such a big belly! Let him be crazy by himself, why are you going crazy with him
? What will you do if you fall down!" My wife scolded my daughter, who smiled silently.

My son helped his heavily pregnant mother: "Mom, let's go back. Come on, take it easy." I also helped
my daughter into the car, closed the door, and then got in from the other side.

As the car started, my son, who was now a licensed driver, still had to remind him, "Drive slowly, the lives
of our family of six are in your hands!"

My son turned around and said impatiently, "Why so much nonsense? How many times do I have to say it before you stop?"

My daughter smacked her brother on the head, "Tch! Eavesdropping!"

My son laughed, shifted gears, and sped off towards our love nest by the sea.

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