My Hand Through Your Bodice - Part 1: Apple Woman Chapter 6: Apple Woman 6

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Summer is a season of crime, and I'm referring to sexual crimes. Every summer, such cases occur. Although the presence of prostitutes reduces the crime rate, there are still some psychologically unstable men willing to take the risk.
The summers in the city I live in are scorching hot. My job is very hard. I spend all day wandering the streets like a lost soul, feeling excited by the pretty girls walking past my car and by the passersby who casually reach out to smooth their hair.
It was hot, and the girls were all dressed lightly. Their skirts were so short they made me want to commit a crime. They all fluttered around me like butterflies, making me a little dizzy.
And the middle-aged and elderly women, not wanting to be left out, joined in, mingling among the young and pretty girls, hoping to be admired, some even hoping to be chosen. However, after years of evaporation, the moisture in their skin had mostly dried up. Like apples that hadn't been sold for a long time, they were shriveled and wrinkled. Occasionally, a few middle-aged or elderly women who paid more attention to skincare would appear, looking radiant on the surface, but their artificially enhanced skin clearly didn't look as natural and appetizing as that of the younger girls.
This season is also the season for wolves to hunt. They roam the streets and alleys, weave through the bright lights and bustling crowds, and mingle among ordinary people, each with hungry eyes, searching for their prey.
I thought of the market again, but not the vegetable market, but the fruit market. Summer, a season of abundant produce, with all sorts of melons, pears, and peaches on the market. Aren't those pretty girls walking on the street just like those bright, juicy apples in the fruit market? Bright red, golden orange, plump and fresh. They look so tempting.
I love domestically produced apples, firstly because they're fresh—they're basically on the market right after being picked. Secondly, their quality and hygiene are guaranteed. Imported apples, on the other hand, I only look at them; although they're tempting, they're not necessarily fresh, and their hygiene can't be guaranteed. If I eat an uninspected apple and get a disease, I'll be left with no recourse but to lament and a lasting bad reputation.
After wandering the streets for over half an hour, someone finally waved. I saw it was a young woman, looking like a freshly picked apple, juicy and fresh. Standing next to her was a middle-aged, obese man. I estimated his waistline to be larger than his trousers. His head was bigger than a pig about to be sent to the slaughterhouse. Even the phrase "obese and bloated" seemed an understatement to describe him.
As soon as they got into the car, a strong fragrance and a pungent body odor filled my nostrils simultaneously, making me feel suffocated. I suddenly thought of the Japanese devils who cruelly murdered our Chinese compatriots with poison gas. If they had been there, I reckon those devils would have felt ashamed for the poison gas they had been developing for so many years.
I quickly rolled down the car window a crack to let the pungent, foul odor dissipate. Looking in the rearview mirror, I saw that the girl was fairly innocent-looking. But I didn't know why this fat guy had won her over. I figured there was only one reason: money, the matchmaker. It was truly a beautiful flower stuck in dog poop, but some flowers are willing to be planted in dog poop because the nutrients there are plentiful, allowing them to grow stronger.
After they got out of the car, I couldn't help but sing that once-popular song: "I am a wolf from the north, wandering through the city streets and alleys, the dazzling neon lights flashing, beautiful girls passing by. I can only grit my teeth and let out two long howls, not for any other reason than that the good apples have all been eaten by dogs..."

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My Hand Through Your Bodice - Part 1: Apple Woman Chapter 6: Apple Woman 6

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