A charming married woman's colorful sexual journey? Me and my goddaughter? 6

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A charming married woman's colorful sexual journey? Me and my goddaughter? 6

Z's six months of hard work went down the drain, with almost no results.
In fact, General Manager L had already argued his case, but to no avail .
I felt that if Z had succumbed to some kind of temptation in private,
the project wouldn't have ended this way.
But could I tell Z the truth?
Afterwards, Z and J's salaries increased slightly,
but it was still far from matching their education and qualifications.
J had already found a job at a new company and took this opportunity to resign gracefully,
even getting a good review, and leaving with great fanfare.
After J left, her colleagues couldn't get any news from her,
and my second daughter completely lost contact with me,
disappearing without a trace.
I didn't care much, but
Z was quite saddened by it.
After New Year's Day, the company transferred me to a new location.
The department staff wanted to hold a company-wide party to say goodbye, but
I sincerely declined.
General Manager L invited me to dinner alone to see me off.
Only one person accompanied me—Z.
In that restaurant, decorated in the colors of the Three Gorges,
a cold wind blew outside, but
the interior was warm and inviting.
The dishes were distinctive,
representing the hometown cuisine of Mr. L and Mr. Z.
Mr. L and I drank their hometown's famous wine,
exchanging few words. Mr.
Z silently poured wine and served food for us,
his words unspoken,
everything understood without being said. All good things must come to an end. On the brightly lit, bustling street, we embraced and shook hands goodbye. The day I departed was the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month. The high-speed rail station was crowded with passengers. After boarding and settling into my reserved seat, I received a text message: "Have a safe journey and take care." There was no signature, and the phone number was unfamiliar, but I knew it was from Mr. Z. I rushed off the train against the flow of passengers, looking around. People came and went, but I couldn't see Mr. Z's petite and familiar figure. I stood by the train carriage door, searching for Mr. Z, until the train conductor was about to lock the doors, at which point I had no choice but to board. The high-speed train slowly started moving, and I received another text message, this time signed: #Dad, don't forget me, your daughter. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my phone screen blurred. The train sped up, and at the far right end of the platform, a petite figure suddenly appeared— it was Z. She waved to me as the train pulled closer. As the carriage drew near, I saw Z's delicate face for the last time; tears were streaming down her face. I kept changing angles, gazing at her with lingering reluctance, tears streaming down my face. Z stood on the platform, watching me depart. The wheels clattered, and my eldest daughter and I drifted further and further apart, forever separated… (Eldest daughter's youthful photos, see Impression? Spring Breeze Green Again album)

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