At this time, at that time

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In

the summer of 1995, I graduated from high school. Having not studied hard, I naturally didn't get into university. Thinking back to how I felt then, I can only describe it as indifferent. Going to university didn't matter, getting a job didn't matter, having a girlfriend didn't matter, what my parents thought of me didn't matter—in short, I was completely颓废 (颓废 is a difficult word to translate directly, but it implies a state

of being listless, decadent, or dispirited) during that time. Every night, I would ride my motorcycle along the main roads of the city, letting the speed of the motorcycle give my numb heart a little thrill. When I got tired, I would park the motorcycle on the side of the road, lean against it, smoke, and watch the traffic flow before me. At that time, I often wondered, what is the purpose of life? Why am I alive? What is a human being?

Sometimes, looking at the men and women on the street, I couldn't help but laugh, so I would lean against the motorcycle and laugh loudly, ignoring the stares of others. The people on the street found it strange, and actually, I found it strange too, because I didn't know what I was laughing at.

Perhaps I had a bit of a melancholic, bourgeois sentimentality back then.

I lost my virginity in junior high school, to a classmate.

I still remember her dark eyes, fair skin, soft hands, and tight vagina.

She was very beautiful, and I still think so. Especially her figure, which was extremely attractive to junior high boys. Back then, I didn't know how to judge a woman's bra size, but now I think it was at least a C-cup. And her waist was truly slender. Combined with her full breasts and rounded hips, she formed a perfect hourglass shape, and with her delicate face, she was definitely one of the prettiest girls in our class. Thinking

back on my first time, I still find it funny. Back then, neither of us had any experience. Although we were physically mature and knew a lot of theoretical knowledge, we were still a complete mess when it came to actual practice.

That day was a Sunday at her house. Her parents were textile factory workers, working three shifts a day, with their days off in lieu of rest. So the two of us did whatever we wanted at her house without any restraint.

In 1991, very few families in inland Chinese cities had air conditioning; it was practically only affordable for a select few wealthy households. It was one of the hottest days of July, so our faces were both flushed.

I had cycled there after playing basketball, and by the time I arrived at her house, I was drenched in sweat. Seeing me panting, she chuckled and suggested I have an ice pop. I declined, asking if she had any water. She said yes and went to the kitchen to get me some.

Her house was an old-fashioned one-bedroom apartment—a type of house that's no longer common. It had a large bedroom but a tiny living room. In fact, the living room in such apartments was practically useless, serving only as an entryway. Since there was only one bedroom, her family of three slept in the same room every night.

After a while, she returned with the water. Because her house was small, I carelessly placed my basketball on the floor after we entered. She tripped over it, lost her balance, and fell towards me, who was sitting on the sofa.

"Careful!" I immediately reacted, standing up to help her, only to feel something soft and yielding in my hand. She

gasped, her hand trembling, and a glass of water spilled all over us.

I realized my hand was resting on her soft, full breasts. That day, she was wearing a thin red and white floral tank top, the water making it faintly visible underneath. She wore shorts that were considered very short at the time, similar to the shorts girls wear now. Her legs were long and beautiful, especially her calves, which looked particularly slender. The skin on her legs was smooth and white, and felt wonderful to the touch.

Through the wet patches, I could see she wasn't wearing a bra; it seemed that very few middle school girls wore bras back then.

I'd always liked her breasts; I'd been fascinated by them since the day I saw her. Back then, school uniforms were sportswear-style, but they weren't form-fitting, just loose and baggy, but that didn't hide her impressive figure. Especially during recess exercises, her breasts bounced with every jump, making the boys in my class incredibly envious.

Seeing my burning gaze on her chest, she flicked my forehead shyly, "What are you looking at? Take your hands off me." At that moment, I felt a fire burning inside me, making me feel like I was about to lose my mind.

I snatched her water cup from her hand and placed it on the desk next to me, then wrapped my other arm around her waist and pulled her into my arms, causing us to tumble onto the sofa together.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she exclaimed, her small nostrils flaring slightly, her warm breath hitting my face.

Looking at her constantly opening and closing lips, an unstoppable surge of encouragement rose within me.

I suddenly pressed her down beneath me and kissed her alluring lips. She shook her head from side to side, trying to stop me, saying, "Don't do this." In a moment of impulsiveness, I pressed my body against hers, cupped her face in my hands, and kissed her without hesitation.

It was my first time kissing a girl, and I had absolutely no skill whatsoever. All I knew was to press my lips against hers and keep sucking, something I'd learned from TV.

After about forty seconds, we were both a little breathless. When we parted, she blushed and scolded me, "Why are you like this?"

I, still panting, said to her, "Jing, I like you."

This was the first time I'd ever told a girl I liked her in front of her, and her face turned even redder, like a ripe peach. I asked her again, "Do you like me?"

Thinking back now, the scene was incredibly cheesy. It was during the heyday of romance dramas, and almost everyone in love back then was incredibly cheesy.

She nodded slightly, and the excitement I felt at that moment was indescribable. My heart was pounding. At that moment, I had only one thought in my mind: she likes me too, she likes me too. I felt so happy, as if I had been struck by lightning.

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