[Urban] Seductive Love (Complete) - 31 (End)

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Chapter 32 The Bidding Incident

On that day, I received a call from General Manager Huang, asking me to rush to Sanya to participate in the bidding for a major company project.

While hailing a taxi outside the airport terminal, I ran into Wu Fang, who was also hailing a taxi. Her hand was intertwined with the hand of a man wearing sunglasses, they looked very intimate. She paused for a moment, but didn't pull her hand away, and smiled and greeted me.

Just then, another taxi came by, and since we were all going in the same direction, the three of us shared the same taxi.

Wu Fang and the man sat in the back, her head resting on the man's shoulder. After the man took off his sunglasses, I realized he looked somewhat familiar. In the car, we talked a lot. It turned out that the man's name was Jiang X, a film and television actor who had appeared in several movies and television shows; no wonder he looked familiar. Wu Fang told me without hesitation that the man was her lover, and the two of them were in Sanya for vacation.

It seems the saying "He who defiles another man's wife will also have his wife defiled"

is indeed true.

Upon arriving at the hotel Wu Fang had booked, she insisted I come upstairs, saying she hadn't seen me in a long time and wanted to chat. Actually, I wasn't very familiar with Wu Fang; we'd only met a few times during holidays at Liu Shixiong's house, and our impressions of each other were neither good nor bad.

I checked the time and decided to go.

After entering, she said something to the male actor, who politely nodded to me and left.

We chatted for a while, and then Wu Fang started talking about Erbao.

She said she'd known for a long time that Erbao had relationships with many women. At first, she argued and fought with him, but after a few days of calm, Erbao didn't change; in fact, he became increasingly brazen. She had wanted to divorce him several times, but her parents were firmly against it.

I couldn't help but feel sorry for her; she was a victim of a political marriage. When I suggested asking Uncle Liu and Aunt Shang to discipline Erbao

, Wu Fang became even more agitated. She said there wasn't a single good person in her family; they were all scoundrels. She said that one dark night, when Erbao wasn't home, Liu Shixiong broke into her bedroom and raped her. She started sobbing after she finished speaking.

I knew a little about Liu Shixiong's lecherous nature, but I never imagined he wouldn't even spare his daughter-in-law. Even a rabbit doesn't eat the grass near its burrow. What a bastard! I didn't know how to comfort her; I just handed her a tissue.

Then she stammered that her mother-in-law, Shang Biyun, played a crucial role in Liu Shixiong becoming the top official in T City. Because Shang Biyun was Wu Fang's father's old flame. Last year, after Wu Fang's mother passed away, Shang Biyun became even more unscrupulous.

After chatting for a while, I was about to leave when Jiang X returned. When Wu Fang saw me to the door, she hesitated for a moment, then told me to keep an eye on Juanzi, and went back inside.

I, of course, understood the meaning behind Wu Fang's words.

At noon, General Manager Huang hosted a banquet for Japanese guests at the most luxurious hotel in Sanya, who were the client of this project. Several of us who were mainly involved in this project accompanied him.

To secure this major project, Huang Ying racked his brains and even hired a chef from Japan specifically to ensure the Japanese guests were satisfied.

We had just sat down when the door opened, and several burly men in suits and sunglasses entered, standing in unison on either side of the doorway, like something out of a movie. Next, several men surrounded an elderly man in a black kimono, about seventy years old, with a wrinkled face, a somewhat sleazy appearance, and a slightly hunched posture, walking unsteadily. I thought he would fall immediately without support. Behind

him were two women in Japanese kimonos: one a beautiful young woman in her thirties in a cream-colored kimono; the other a beautiful woman in her early twenties in a brightly colored kimono. One was elegant and charming; the other was as beautiful as a flower, naturally beautiful.

Hmm? The young woman seemed familiar; could she be the actress from one of those Japanese adult films I'd secretly watched?

What's going on today? She looks familiar again.

After exchanging pleasantries, everyone took their seats and introduced themselves. The elderly man was named Shinoda Hirosuke, one of Japan's top business leaders, with shares in many well-known companies. The beautiful young woman was named Minako, and the younger woman was named Norika. They were traveling in Sanya with their families and also taking the opportunity to inspect potential partners for this project.

I noticed Norika staring at me, and when she saw me looking at her, she winked twice. I suddenly remembered that Norika was the Japanese woman who had secretly slipped the phone to Sony a year ago. I hadn't seen her since, so I couldn't return it. The phone seemed to still be in the storage box at home, and now it was a perfect opportunity to return it to its rightful owner.

I saw Norika whispering to Minako, and Minako looked at me, smiling and nodding in acknowledgment.

My heart skipped a beat. So beautiful! I've seen beautiful women, but I've never seen one as beautiful as her. Those bright, sparkling eyes could make any man's heart flutter.

During the meal, Mr. Huang was extremely attentive to Kosuke Shinoda, bowing and scraping. The old man barely spoke, his eyes half-closed, as if he hadn't woken up properly, but the light in his eyes cast a deep and somber glow. Norika stayed by Kosuke Shinoda's side the whole time, and the old man seemed to show her great affection.

When we were leaving after dinner, Norika walked up to me and bowed gracefully, saying in Japanese, "It's a pleasure to see you again!"

"I didn't expect to see Ms. Norika here again either,

" I bowed back and replied in Japanese, "The…"

"Can you tell me your name?"

Norika hurriedly interrupted me.

"My name is Zhang Daniu."

"Thank you! Goodbye!"

She extended her small hand to me.

I quickly shook her hand, but felt something strange in my palm. Looking up, I saw Norika smiling at me and winking twice, just like last time.

After seeing the guests off, Mr. Huang pulled me aside and asked how I knew Norika. I told him, but didn't mention the phone.

Back in my room, I opened the note and found a small slip of paper. It read in Japanese: "6 PM, Cafe."

At 6 PM, I arrived at the cafe in the lobby as agreed and saw Minako and Norika in a corner.

Norika waved to me.

I sat down opposite them. They weren't wearing kimonos anymore, but casual clothes. Minako wore a dark black cardigan over a white turtleneck sweater, which hugged her fair neck. Norika had a cute, doll-like face, and her tight-fitting clothes accentuated her shapely breasts. They were truly a lovely pair.

Then, Norika stood up apologetically and said she would go out for a moment, asking me to talk to Minako.

I didn't dare meet Minako's gaze, as her eyes radiated a dizzying light.

"I'm sorry to trouble you! I didn't expect your Japanese to be so good,"

Minako said, her delicate eyebrows arching, her voice carrying an alluring charm.

"Is that thing still there?"

"Yes! I'll check when I get home, it's definitely still there."

"Can you return it to Norika?"

"No problem! It originally belonged to Norika."

"When can we have it back?"

"As soon as the bidding project is over, the first thing I'll do when I get home is return it to you."

"I'm going back to Japan with my husband in two days, can you return it to us in the next couple of days?"

"But, I still need to participate in this project bidding..."

I hesitated.

"It's okay! Isn't your company trying to win this project? I can have my husband sign the contract tomorrow."

She smiled sweetly.

"Really? That's great!"

"But the condition is that you take the 9:40 flight back tonight and then fly back early tomorrow morning to hand over the things to us. I'll give you the signed contract then. Okay?"

"Okay!"

I didn't want to talk to her anymore; it was torture. Every word Minako said was so alluring, making my heart tremble.

Just then, Norika rushed back.

"Mom, did you settle it?"

Norika looked anxious.

Mom? Norika called Minako "Mom"? I was surprised. How could that be? I thought they were sisters, that she was Shinoda Kosuke's daughter! How could she be the wife of an almost eighty-year-old man? Besides, Norika looked to be in her early twenties, while she looked to be in her early thirties at most. It's impossible that she gave birth to Norika when she was only ten, right?

"Yes! It's settled!"

"Then hurry back, your father just called you."

"Really?"

Minako's face showed a hint of panic, then she smiled and said to me, "Thank you! I don't want a fourth person to know about this, okay?"

"Okay!"

I mechanically agreed. I was powerless to refuse such a stunningly beautiful woman.

"I've booked your plane ticket. Goodbye!"

"Goodbye!"

Their figures were long gone, and I hadn't even come to my senses. Minako's every move exuded a bewitching charm. She was simply a rare beauty!

I found General Manager Huang at the Sanya branch of the head office and told him that the contract could be signed tomorrow. He held my hand tightly, too excited to speak. I then said that I would take a flight home in the afternoon and return the next afternoon. He agreed without asking any questions and said that his car would take me.

In the waiting hall, I called Juanzi, but no one answered. I called several times, but still no one answered. I thought it was dinner time, and maybe she didn't hear me.

It was 11:30 p.m. After getting off the plane, I called Juanzi again, but she still didn't answer. I was puzzled.

I rushed back home, and it was already past midnight when I got to my building. I habitually glanced at the bedroom window; it was dark inside.

I didn't see Erbao's car downstairs; Juanzi was probably already asleep. Maybe she wasn't home, but somewhere else, making love with Erbao, and the domineering Erbao was deliberately refusing to let her answer the phone? Hmm! That's possible! Thinking back to the scene on the night of the Lantern Festival, Juanzi was so helpless and submissive under Erbao. A pang of sadness hit me.

When I gently closed the bedroom door and turned on the living room light, I noticed a pair of men's leather shoes next to the shoe rack by the door, and a men's down jacket on the sofa armrest, with a dark gray men's scarf on top of it. My heart skipped a beat; Juanzi and Erbao were inside.

I quickly turned off the light and tiptoed to the bedroom door. The door was tightly closed; I slowly pushed it open a crack.

I heard heavy snoring and soft breathing; a pungent smell of testosterone and estrogen wafted from the crack in the door; the bedroom was dark, but I could vaguely make out the outline of two figures under the double blankets.

I slowly closed the bedroom door from the outside and, using the dim light of my phone, saw Juanzi's phone on the coffee table. It was on vibrate, and I saw several missed calls from me. Curiosity piqued; I wondered who Juanzi had been talking to during the day. My heart pounded. I had never peeked at Juanzi's phone before, and I didn't want to, nor did I have the courage. The call log included calls from Erbao, her workplace, classmates… The last call was around 9 PM, showing Juanzi had spoken with Uncle Liu. This meant the phone was switched to vibrate after 9 PM. Without realizing it, I

went to the bathroom; the walls were still covered in water droplets, indicating she hadn't been in the shower long. Several wads of tissues stained with sticky liquid in the trash can, and damp patches on the sheets in the washing machine—clearly, these were the hormonal secretions from the two people in the bedroom, mostly estrogen, as I had personally witnessed Juanzi being aroused by Erbao to the point of producing such a large amount of fluid. This indicated that just recently, on that bed, the beautiful Juanzi had been panting beneath a man, repeatedly brought to arousal, and repeatedly pushed to orgasm, shamefully offering her precious fluids to this man.

Lost in thought, I grabbed the still-warm sheet, wrapped the damp part around my hard penis, closed my eyes, and began stroking it back and forth. Ah! These damp stains were from my beloved Juanzi during her orgasm… No! That's not right! It was the fluid Juanzi ejaculated during her orgasm! How precious! Although the stains of fluid weren't brought out by me, nor were they offered to me, my penis had still come into contact with Juanzi's bodily fluids from her orgasm.

I ejaculated! I ejaculated onto the damp sheets.

I sneaked into the study in the dark and quietly found the Sony phone in the cardboard box on the top shelf. I sat quietly at the computer desk.

Although I had long since accepted Erbao and Juanzi's affair, the thought of Juanzi being so enraptured under Erbao still made my heart ache.

For over a year, because I had consistently followed the methods in "Intermittent Erectile Dysfunction Recovery Massage Therapy," practicing self-massage and breathing exercises, my sexual function had significantly improved; the duration and frequency of intercourse had greatly increased. However, in the few times I had sex with Juanzi, most of the time I couldn't withstand her onslaught no matter how hard I tried, and I quickly surrendered, unsurprisingly losing. There were two even more humiliating times; although I gritted my teeth and persevered, she only needed two or three rounds to take me down and surrender.

The victor experiences no joy after victory, while the loser remains frustrated and guilty.

Only once did I find solace. That night, Juanzi was very considerate, straddling my waist but not allowing me to enter her vagina, knowing my limited skills. She rubbed my penis against her full mons pubis, occasionally letting the head of my penis enter her vagina a little, then immediately pulling away. After repeating this motion for a while, her cheeks began to flush, seemingly aroused. She then rode me, moving up and down very slowly, gently and carefully, trying to slow the movements. Later, her breathing became rapid, and her movements became slightly larger, and I couldn't control myself and ejaculated. At the moment of my ejaculation, I noticed her eyebrows furrow slightly, her body tense, and her upper body seemingly lost control, collapsing into my arms. I felt her body tremble. Although it was only a tremor, it was one I had given her.

Afterwards, I asked Juanzi several times if she had reached orgasm. Juanzi nodded shyly and praised me, saying I was strong! Her praise excited me for days.

I wasn't sure if Juanzi was just being kind, or if she had reached orgasm, but I was certain she was at least excited.

In the darkness, I stood there blankly for a while, then glanced longingly at the bedroom door before leaving home.

I walked and walked on the empty streets, not knowing how long I walked, until I realized I was downstairs at Ouyang Dan's building.

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At this moment, it was broad daylight, and more and more pedestrians were appearing on the street. I checked my watch; it was a little past seven in the morning.

I dialed Ouyang Dan's number.

"Beep...beep..."

It rang several times.

Just as I was about to hang up, "Hello!"

Ouyang Dan seemed to be lowering her voice.

"It's Da Niu!"

"Huh? Where are you?"

"I'm downstairs!"

"Downstairs?"

Her panicked voice rose slightly. "Why are you downstairs? When did you get back? Have you been home?"

"I...I'm so tired! I wanted to come up and sit for a bit, is that alright?"

"Oh..."

She hesitated.

"Never mind if it's not convenient. I have to go to the airport soon, my flight is at 9:20."

"..."

"Sister Ouyang, I'm leaving now. Goodbye!"

I said, somewhat disappointed.

"Wait! How about...how about you come up in half an hour?"

"Okay!"

I was overjoyed.

"Don't stay downstairs! Do you hear me? How about you go to that restaurant across the street outside the compound and get me some breakfast?"

"Okay!"

"Fuck your mother!..."

Just then, a man's curses came from the phone, followed by

a crisp "slap!" sound of a slap. Then the phone hung up.

Sigh! My phone call led to Ouyang Dan being beaten. I felt incredibly guilty.

I lingered in that small room, wasting time, making the restaurant owner roll his eyes in exasperation. Thirty minutes later, I left, grabbed some breakfast, and pushed open the door. A familiar black Land Cruiser sped past, too fast to see the license plate.

Entering the room, I saw Ouyang Dan's eyes were red, as if she had just been crying, and there were five red finger marks on her left cheek.

"Sit down first, I'll go wash my face."

Ouyang Dan avoided my gaze and turned to go to the bathroom.

I could hear her sobbing inside. Feeling guilty, I went to the bedroom door. The room reeked of that peculiar mixed smell. Two pillows sat side-by-side at the head of the bed, both bearing the dents of heads that had been used. The double quilt was piled haphazardly at one end of the bed, and the towel that had once been used as a mat was tossed in a corner.

Ouyang Dan came out of the bathroom, looking much better.

"Did Uncle Liu hit you? It's all my fault! I shouldn't have..."

I looked at the finger marks on her face, my heart aching.

"You mean Liu..."

Her mouth gaped open in surprise, "Really? You didn't go home? You sounded really strange on the phone, I thought you'd run into someone at home..."

"Yeah! I did. Two people were inside... sleeping, and I quietly left. I was alone on the street..."

I said dejectedly.

"Who was inside?"

"Who else? Juanzi and Erbao, of course."

"What? You said Erbao was at your house last night?"

"Sister Ouyang, please don't tease me, okay? You know that."

I was a little annoyed.

"No, no! I didn't mean to tease you at all. It's really unbelievable! He just left..."

"I know he just left your house."

I glanced into the bedroom.

"You saw him?"

Her eyes widened.

"Why would I need to see him?"

I gestured towards the bedroom.

"Oh, oh!"

Ouyang Dan said thoughtfully. "It's best you don't know, knowing will only make you more miserable."

"He bullied you, of course I feel sorry for him."

"Da Niu, actually it's..."

She hesitated. "By the way, aren't you going to the airport soon? I'll take you."

"Sure!"

In the car, I told Ouyang Dan the whole story of Norika's Sonny phone.

"Look, it's this phone."

I took out Sonny's phone.

"It looks like a very ordinary phone, similar to mine. I think there must be some secret hidden in it, otherwise they wouldn't be in such a hurry."

"Yeah! I think so too, but it's useless for us to keep it, we should return it as soon as possible. It's obvious they care a lot."

I pictured Minako's alluring face in my mind.

Just then, Ouyang Dan's phone rang.

"Hello! Yes! I'm going to the airport, wait for me a moment. Okay! Goodbye!"

Ouyang Dan hung up the phone and said, "I almost forgot, I have a meeting this morning."

She gripped the steering wheel tightly and stepped on the gas.

Soon, we arrived at the airport. I put Sonny's phone in my bag, got out of the car, and said goodbye to Ouyang Dan.

Security check, check-in. As soon as I registered, the loudspeaker announced we were about to take off, so I turned off my phone.

When I woke up, I was already in Sanya. As soon as I turned my phone back on, it rang. It was an unfamiliar number, calling from T City.

"Hey! Da Niu? You took the wrong phone. You took mine; it's still in the car."

"Ah? How could I have taken the wrong phone! I went back specifically to return it; they promised to sign the contract for me. What am I going to do?"

I was both regretful and anxious.

"Don't worry, I have a friend going to Sanya on a flight tonight. I'll have him take it to you."

"Okay!"

I thought that was the only option.

At the Sanya branch, General Manager Huang happily told me the contract had been signed. He said the Japanese guests wanted to take a yacht trip that afternoon, and the company had chartered a luxury yacht. He patted my shoulder with a smile and said the Japanese guests specifically requested that I accompany them.

Of course, I was happy to oblige; I could see Minako and Norika again.

The yacht was packed with bodyguards in suits and sunglasses, but there was no sign of Shinoda Hirosuke, Minako, or Norika. The yacht sailed further and further away, until land was no longer visible. Then, two bodyguards led me to the largest cabin on the yacht.

Shinoda Hirosuke sat on the sofa with a menacing look on his face, flanked by more than a dozen bodyguards. As soon as I entered, I was punched several times, followed by several heavy kicks to the stomach. I was beaten until I was dizzy and bloodied, clutching my stomach and groaning on the ground. Then, two bodyguards twisted my arms behind my back, grabbed my hair, and forced me to kneel at Shinoda Hirosuke's feet.

"You dare to seduce my woman? You don't want to live anymore?"

Shinoda Hirosuke said without even looking at me.

(Shinoda Kosuke speaks Japanese, and all conversations with Japanese people are in Japanese, so I won't add further notes below.

What? I seduced his woman? That is, I seduced Minako? I'm so wronged!

"I didn't..." "

Hmm? Still dare to deny it? Keep beating him! Beat him to death! Then throw him into the sea."

I was bombarded with punches and kicks until I passed out.

I don't know how much time passed before I gradually regained consciousness. I found myself completely naked, my arms tied behind my back, and my eyes swollen shut.

"Oh? This guy is still breathing?")

"Don't worry, he'll be fish food in the sea when it gets darker."

A wave of fear washed over me. I passed out almost immediately. Chapter 33 of

fxcm Bookstore: "Da Niu! Zhang Da Niu! Wake up…" Where am I? In the underworld? Am I dead? The voice calling my name sounds familiar? I forced my eyes open and vaguely saw a figure, like my master, Yang Weidong. "Da Niu! Da Niu…" The voice faded into the distance, and then I lost consciousness again. My head hurt so much, and I was so thirsty. "Water! Water! I want water…" "あぃ￡♂ぃ♀￡卐юの…" I saw a young woman holding a baby standing in front of the bed, talking to me in a garbled voice. I didn't understand a word. Seeing that I didn't react, she stomped her foot and quickly ran away. "Where am I? Am I still alive?" I pinched myself; it hurt a little. It seemed I wasn't dead. Then where am I? Who was that woman from before? I looked around and saw that it was a wooden house, the air damp and hot. I was lying on a bamboo bed, my naked body covered with a thin blanket. Just then, I heard hurried footsteps, and two people entered from outside. One was the woman from before, and the other was my master, Yang Weidong, who had been missing for more than two years! "Master?" I exclaimed in surprise. "My God! You've finally woken up. I thought you weren't going to make it." It was indeed my master, Yang Weidong. "Master, is it really you?" "Yes! Da Niu, it really is me. You've been unconscious for three days." "Oh! Master, I'm so thirsty, I want some water." After taking a sip of water, I asked, "Where is this? What are you doing here? And who is that?" I pointed to the woman behind him. Yang Weidong handed me a glass of water and sat down on the edge of the bed to talk. The woman's name was Ma Dan, she was Burmese, twenty-six years old, and they had been lovers before, but now she was his wife. Seeing my confusion, Yang Weidong explained: Four years ago, he crippled someone and was wanted by the police, hiding everywhere. Later, he crossed the border to Myanmar and started a drug trafficking business. The following year, he secretly started an affair with a drug lord's mistress. When their affair was exposed, his boss chased after them, and the two fled in panic. On their escape, they met a South Korean friend who became Yang Weidong's contact in South Korea for drug transactions. This South Korean man had a similar experience to his master, having also run off with his boss's mistress. They heard about a secluded paradise called Leuju Island, so the four of them traveled a long and arduous journey to the island and settled down. Yang Weidong asked about his master's wife and his daughter, Yang Yang, and I told him everything. After hearing this, his eyes reddened, and he gripped my hand tightly without saying a word. He then asked me how I fell into the sea. I recounted the events. He said I was lucky to have met him. After being thrown into the sea that day, I was awakened by the cool seawater. I struggled desperately to break free of the ropes binding my arms. Perhaps I wasn't meant to die; in the darkness, I saw a piece of wood floating on the sea. I grabbed onto it and drifted on the water, not remembering how long I drifted. Pain and hunger constantly assailed me, but the will to survive kept me going. Then, I knew nothing more. One afternoon, Yang Weidong saw something floating on the sea from the boat. He hooked it up with a pole and saw it was a person. He never expected it to be me. Ignoring his doubts, he repeatedly begged the boatman not to throw me back into the sea, saying I was healthy and could work after waking up. The boatman agreed to take me back to the island. By then, it was dark. Madan came into the house carrying a child less than a year old, and brought back a lot of food, mostly baby food and drinks, and some tonics for women. I laughed and said, "Life on the island is good, isn't it? " He said sheepishly, "It's mainly because of the child." I hugged the child and kissed him. The child giggled at me. The child was so cute. He picked up the child, turned to look at Madan who was lighting a fire to cook, and sighed, saying the child wasn't his. I stared at him in astonishment, then at Madan, puzzled. Yang Weidong changed the subject and told me about Iluju Island. Iluju Island, covering an area of over 90 square kilometers, is surrounded by steep mountains. Its dense vegetation naturally forms a basin, high on all sides and low in the center, with springs cascading down the valleys to create spectacular natural waterfalls. Over a hundred years ago, a Chinese merchant ship was shipwrecked, and the survivors were washed ashore on the island. They found it to be an uninhabited island, very remote and difficult to spot in the vast ocean. The island had abundant fruit, rich fisheries, and fresh water, enough for survival. So, the survivors settled there temporarily. Later, more and more people drifted to the island. They felt that the island was unattended, isolated from the outside world, free from its hustle and bustle, its deceit and treachery—like a paradise. No one wanted to leave. From then on, people lived and multiplied on the island. The island's inhabitants came from different countries, and (three years ago) the population was nearly ten thousand. Every household lived in harmony and was very friendly to each other, gradually forming a small, isolated society. Iwo Jima was very rich in resources. The fruits and crops on the island could feed several generations, and plump, lively fish and shrimp could be easily caught on the shore without going out to sea. However, such a carefree and comfortable life was not a good thing. After a while, people felt bored and empty. Because the islanders were a mixed bunch, including those who had been shipwrecked, those fleeing from enemies, wanted criminals, and even drug dealers, some people began to use drugs they had brought with them to numb their nerves and comfort themselves. Gradually, most of the men on the island became addicted to drugs. When the drugs ran out, they planted large areas of poppy pods, and they all became emaciated, listless, yawning constantly, and physically weak. The women of Iluju Island were responsible for the meager labor at home and in the fields. Thanks to the simple physical exertion and the fertile, moist soil, they possessed beautiful figures, slender waists, full hips, and smooth skin. Two years ago, the peaceful life on Iluju Island was shattered. Two or three hundred heavily armed Japanese men disembarked from several ships, claiming to have purchased the island and were its owners. Iluju Island was first discovered by the Chinese, and its ownership by China is an indisputable fact. However, the Japanese claimed it as theirs. The Chinese government repeatedly emphasized its sovereignty over Iluju Island, but Japan persisted with its unreasonable arguments. For the sake of bilateral relations, the Chinese government repeatedly exercised restraint, promising to shelve the dispute and jointly develop the island. However, Japan ignored China's goodwill and became even more brazen, despicably selling the island to a Japanese businessman without authorization. That day, under a dark cloud, heavily armed Japanese forcibly gathered nearly ten thousand people on the island in a small square. Machine guns were mounted on the rooftops surrounding the square, their muzzles pointed directly at the crowd. The Japanese, hysterically shouting through megaphones, declared that from this day forward they were the masters of the island, and everyone on the island must unconditionally obey its rules and regulations. They then announced six regulations: the Citizenship Law, the Labor Compensation System, the Rationing System, the Responsibility and Obligation Law, the Customs and Culture Law, and the Eugenics Law. The crowd immediately erupted in commotion; some expressed indignation, some protested, some cursed the Japanese, and some charged at the Japanese invaders. At that moment, machine guns opened fire from all sides, and terrified screams mingled with the gunfire as rows and piles of people fell. When the gunfire ceased, the square was littered with corpses, blood flowing like a river; hundreds had been killed by bullets, the vast majority of them men.

"Fuck you Japanese devils! I'll fight you to the death!" "Men! If you're men, charge with me! We have over ten thousand men, what are we afraid of, a few hundred of them?"

"Yeah! We must avenge our dead! Charge!"

Before Yang Weidong could stop them, hundreds upon hundreds of spirited men had already rushed out of the crowd, lunging at the houses surrounding the square. But before these unarmed men could even get close to the houses, they were all shot and fell. Yang Weidong had been a soldier; he knew that such reckless actions would only lead to pointless deaths. He shouted loudly for people not to die needlessly, and he only stopped the men around him. Bullets

rained down from the surrounding rooftops onto the men who rushed out, and people were shot and killed one after another. Piles of corpses lay around the square, and only a few men managed to escape back into the crowd.

People were stunned! Many were so frightened that they wet themselves.

"This is the fate of those who resist! Your only choice now is to obey!"

the loudspeaker blared again.

"From today onwards, everyone on the island must obey and abide by the island's rules and regulations. Violators will be executed."

"Those beastly Japanese deserve a terrible death!"

I bit my lip until it bled with anger. I asked again, "What are the specific contents of those island rules and regulations?"

Yang Weidong lit a cigarette made of leaves and slowly began to explain: 1. Citizenship Law: Japanese are considered upper class, while the original inhabitants of Liuliu Island are considered lower class. Lower class people, regardless of age or gender, must bow to upper class people. Lower class people are not allowed to leave the island without permission; otherwise, their families will be punished on their behalf. Lower class people who are single or have no relatives have no right to leave the island.

Madan was busy inside the house; her skin was slightly dark but smooth, and she had a slender and attractive figure.

2. Labor Compensation System: Lower class people, regardless of gender, work 77 hours a week with no days off. Adult men mainly engage in heavy physical labor such as drilling, quarrying, and fishing at sea, earning 1 island dollar per day. Underage boys and women were engaged in light physical labor, earning only 0.5 island dollars a day.

"That's 11 hours a day? Is that enough?"

the worker lamented. "We start work at 7 am, have a one-hour lunch break, and finish at 7 pm. It's exhausting and hard work. After buying enough food for the whole family each month, there's hardly anything left, let alone buying daily necessities."

I noticed there were few valuables in the worker's room.

3. Food rationing was strictly limited. Each person could only buy ten kilograms of rice and two kilograms of rotten fish or shrimp per month; pregnant women could buy an additional kilogram of rice and baby food such as formula. Lower-class people had to undergo a medical check-up weekly, at their own expense.

"How can such a meager amount of food be enough? These beasts are even more lenient with breastfeeding women,"

I thought.

Just then, a tall woman entered through the door, seemingly returning something. The two women politely declined each other's offers.

The master said, "This woman's husband has been sick for a long time, and there's no food at home. Madan shared some of her meager food with her. Most families on the island are starving and want the women in their families to get pregnant so they can have more food each month."

4. Responsibility and Obligation Law: Every islander has the responsibility and obligation to raise offspring. Everyone has the obligation to work shifts, rotating shifts, with one day off for each shift.

A volunteer service team has been established. Female islanders over 16 years of age are obligated to participate in the volunteer service team.

A comfort service team has been formed. To express gratitude to the superior Japanese for the blessings they brought to Iwo Jima, a women's comfort service team has been established specifically to comfort the Japanese.

I grew increasingly confused: "What kind of shift? Volunteer service team? Comfort service team? Isn't that just comfort women?"

The master nodded and said, "It's a full-time job, 24 hours a day. The main job is to provide sexual services to the upper class on the island or on the warships docked at the pier. Alas! The women there are living a life worse than death. The Japanese confine male and female prisoners, single women, or women without relatives, depriving them of their freedom and reducing them to slavery. Once enslaved, there's no hope of ever getting out. The Japanese select some young and beautiful women from among the female slaves to serve as comfort women, providing them with long-term sexual indulgence and rape, making them Japanese sex slaves."

"Those Japanese are simply inhuman!"

I said indignantly.

5. Customs and Culture Law The official language on Ioju Island is Japanese. Every islander must wear Japanese clothing, especially not Chinese clothing.

"They want to imprint the mark of the Japanese nation not only in form but also in culture,"

I interjected.

At this moment, Madan took a set of Japanese men's clothing from the cabinet, placed it by the bed, took the child from the master's arms, and went out with the tall woman from before.

"These are my clothes, just wear them,"

the master said.

I changed the clothes and continued listening to the story.

6. Eugenics and Eugenics Law: To gradually improve the inferior genes of the lower classes and ensure that the second generation of Ioju Island's inhabitants possessed the bloodline of the upper classes, the task of procreation for the second generation was undertaken by upper-class men. Lower-class couples were required to use contraception during sexual intercourse, and not a single drop of the husband's semen was allowed inside the wife's body.

Upper-class men had the obligation to procreate, and lower-class women had the responsibility of serving as reproductive tools, so as to gradually improve the bloodline of Ioju Island's future generations. To ensure the healthy growth of the second generation of islanders, breastfeeding women were allowed to rest at home for three months to nurse their infants; a second pregnancy was only permitted after five years.

I suddenly realized. The child in Madan's arms was of Japanese descent.

Yang Weidong concluded, "Any violation, regardless of severity, will be punished with the death penalty."

I was stunned. This was even more cruel than slavery! Wouldn't they try to escape?

Yang Weidong shook his head, saying, "Difficult! Extremely difficult! The island is heavily guarded, with surveillance systems everywhere. The Japanese have also laid landmines and electrified barbed wire along the shore, with guards and patrols 24 hours a day. There's simply no way to escape. The only exit to the sea is the dock. There have been several escape attempts, but none have succeeded. People either get electrocuted by the barbed wire or die from stepping on landmines. Occasionally, a few individuals manage to cross the blockade, but they are quickly caught by the surveillance cameras.

The next day, the Japanese gather everyone on the island in a small square, making people witness the bloody scene of punishing those who violate the island's rules, in order to intimidate the islanders. Male prisoners are stripped naked." They would bury the prisoners in the sand, leaving only their heads exposed. Their scalps would be cut open with a knife, salt sprinkled on them, and they would be wrapped in cowhide and left to bake in the sun for days, enduring excruciating pain until death. Female prisoners would be stripped naked, lifted high, and their genitals aligned with the tip of a tall wooden stake fixed to the ground. Then, the stake would be slammed down, driving the stake through their genitals and out their mouths – a gruesome sight.

The Japanese used these extremely brutal and bloody methods to force the islanders to submit to the fear of slaughter, making them Japanese slaves.

From the day the Japanese invaded the islands, the people of Iwo Jima were plunged into misery, living like pigs and dogs, trampled upon like dirt. Men were forced into heavy labor and hard labor, becoming labor slaves. Women, in addition to being forced into labor or sexual service, were also forced into sexual slavery by the Japanese, subjected to sexual enslavement and wanton rape to satisfy their bestial lust. Those beautiful women were even more unfortunate; they had to endure more manipulation and abuse than ordinary women. "

Alas! On the day the Japanese landed on the island, those who were shot but didn't die were shot, the old, weak, sick, and disabled were killed, boys under ten years old were killed… more than two thousand were killed!"

The master recalled sadly, "Originally there were nearly ten thousand people on the island, but now there are less than eight thousand, and only three thousand are men."

"So that means less than forty percent of the island's population are men now?"

"Yes! Of those less than 40% of the men, 30% are drug addicts. The Japanese were initially very wary and worried; after all, there are over 3,000 men. If these thousands of men were to unite and stage a mass uprising, no one could predict the outcome. Soon after, the Japanese discovered that the vast majority of the men were drug addicts, listless and weak, their minds preoccupied with nothing but opium and heroin. To test their strength, the Japanese organized a fighting competition. The rules were that the upper-class Japanese and the lower-class native islanders would each randomly select 10 people to compete."

"Then we should send some strong men. Can't we find 10 strong, somewhat skilled men out of thousands of people? You'll definitely participate, right?"

"Ugh! Don't even mention it! It makes me angry. The match was divided into two halves. To humiliate the Iwo Jima people, the Japanese arrogantly proposed that the islanders could randomly select 10 Japanese to participate in both halves; while the Iwo Jima people could choose their 5 strongest men from thousands to participate in the first half, and the Japanese would randomly select 5 islanders for the second half.

The result of the first half was 3-2, with the Japanese winning. Another strong man and I won two rounds.

Before the second half started, the Japanese changed the rules. They selected 20 physically weak men from the islanders, with 5 men against 1 Japanese in each round. It seemed like the increased number of islanders should give them an advantage, but that wasn't the case. Five pampered islanders were no match for a well-trained Japanese man. After a few rounds, the five men were lying on the ground, groaning in pain. The Japanese led 1-0 in the second half.

Tragically, the five men who participated in the second round of the second half were so cowardly..." Unable to take the field, five men cautiously stepped forward under duress from the Japanese. Before the donkey-faced Japanese man could even make a move, two of them lay down on the ground, feigning death. "What a disgrace!"

Laughter erupted from the Japanese crowd. The donkey-faced Japanese man didn't let them off the hook. He said that if they wanted to surrender, they would have to crawl between his legs like dogs, and then, laughing loudly, he spread his legs wide. One of the islanders, his face flushed red, couldn't bear the humiliation and shouted, "You little Japanese devils!" "Fuck your mother!" he yelled, lunging at Donkey Face. Donkey Face kicked him away, but the man wiped the blood from his mouth, got up, and lunged at Donkey Face again, only to be knocked down once more. He

got up again and lunged at Donkey Face… This man was a real man! Knowing he couldn't win, he still fought bravely for his dignity. I admire him!

The other four islanders, inspired by his spirit, joined the fight. Soon, all five islanders lay motionless on the ground, their faces covered in blood, while Donkey Face continued to kick them relentlessly.

"Stop hitting him! You'll kill him if you keep hitting him…" "Please, let him go…" several women cried out; they were the wives and daughters of the five men on stage.

"All you men on Iwo Jima are like this!" The donkey-faced Japanese man brandished his little finger at the crowd below, then added, "But the women here are like this! Haha..." He gave a thumbs-up.

At this moment, a commotion erupted in the thousands of people, who were both excited and indignant, and they all surged towards the front of the stage.

Seeing that things were not going well, a Japanese officer ordered his men to set up machine guns while reprimanding the donkey-faced man's rampage. Then, he announced through a megaphone, "The competition is over. Everyone must disperse within ten minutes, or you will be killed without mercy!" "Sigh..."

After listening to my master's detailed account, I felt like there was something moldy stuck in my chest, and I felt very uncomfortable. At this moment, Madan carried the child back into the house and set out the dishes. After we sat down, she said to my master in Burmese, "あぃ￡♂ぃ♀￡卐ю."

My master listened and nodded, then smiled and said to me, "That woman has taken a liking to you. Why don't you go with her? It'll be good for both of you."

"I already have a wife back home."

I shook my head vigorously.

"You still expect to go back? Looks like we're stuck here for life. Besides, please help that poor woman. If you don't register your marriage with her, she'll be sent to a comfort station tomorrow. She said she'd rather die than go to that hellhole."

I felt a pang of pity.

He continued, "Her name is Park Young-hee, she's twenty-seven years old, from South Korea. Her husband is the South Korean friend I mentioned earlier. Our two families are very close; our thatched huts are next to each other. Her husband died of illness the day before yesterday, and she has no relatives on the island besides him, so she has to report to the comfort station tomorrow."

I hadn't paid much attention to this Young-hee before, and I hadn't seen what she looked like.

"You two go to the Japanese to register tomorrow."

My master saw that I didn't say anything more.

The next day, I supported my weak body and slowly followed beside my master, with Madan carrying the child and Park Young-hee following behind. I secretly sized up Park Young-hee: a perfectly proportioned figure, a slender waist, high breasts that seemed about to burst from her clothes, and long, straight legs—every part of her body was alluring.

We weaved through the bustling crowd, the cries of vendors rising and falling on both sides of the road. The men and women on the street were mostly dressed in worn-out Japanese clothes; most of the men were sallow-faced, thin, and frail.

"Why are the men here like this?"

I asked.

"These are all methamphetamine addicts. Look!"

the master sighed, pointing to a "Sex Shop" on the side of the road. He continued, "They sell methamphetamine and sex drugs there."

Apparently, the Japanese, in order to improve the work efficiency and increase working hours of the islanders, had the laborers use drugs when exhausted, and slowly the laborers became addicted. However, women were prohibited from using drugs because they had the responsibility of procreating the next generation of islanders.

"You don't use drugs?"

I asked, looking at the master's robust physique.

"I used to be a drug dealer, I trafficked drugs but didn't use them! Didn't you know?"

Madan left first, saying she was taking her child to daycare.

"There are daycares?"

I chuckled to myself.

Just then, a commotion erupted, and people around me stepped aside, bowing their heads.

"Quickly bow your head!"

Seeing me standing there dumbfounded, the master pulled me back, whispering anxiously, "You must bow to superiors."

I quickly followed his example and bowed. A woman with a girl of about ten years old was standing nearby; the woman was a little slow, and she was whipped.

I was about to get angry when I saw the master giving me a hard look, telling me not to act rashly.

I secretly saw a group of soldiers walking down the street, a few Japanese, but most were foreigners with high noses and blond hair.

"These foreigners are Americans. Their warships often dock at the pier to take shelter from the wind or resupply. The docking time varies, from a few days to more than half a month. The Japanese are very willing to let their warships dock because these foreigners can bring them considerable profits."

The master said pityingly in a low voice, "I guess Madan and Park Young-hee will be on duty tonight."

"How do you know? Aren't they on rotating shifts? How come..."

I asked, puzzled.

"Madan and Park Young-hee are both members of the volunteer service team!"

"So what?"

"The so-called duty is to provide sexual services to the Japanese,"

the master said.

It turned out that the comfort women were considered professional sex workers by the Japanese, while the respectable women on the island were ordinary people, making them even more appealing to the Japanese. To satisfy their shameless and lewd desires, a volunteer service team was established for their indulgence and pleasure. The volunteer service team had more than 30 members, all young and beautiful women forcibly selected by the Japanese from nearly 5,000 women on Iwo Jima. They were beauties of exceptional looks and figures.

In addition to taking turns on duty, the volunteer service team often provided on-call services for mid- to high-ranking Japanese leaders. Madan and Park Young-hee were mistresses or concubines of drug lords. Both of them were outstanding beauties among the women on the island, naturally making them the first choice for the volunteer service team.

At this moment, a scream came from the side, and a tall foreigner picked up a little girl of about ten years old. The little girl looked at the woman and cried out, "Mommy! Mommy, save me!"

The mother kept kowtowing and begging, watching helplessly as her daughter was abducted.

The streets were bustling with noise again, as if people had grown accustomed to it and were no longer surprised.

"What a tragedy! That girl wasn't even thirteen!"

my master said angrily. I was even more indignant, my fists clenched until they ached. Later, I heard that the girl had been brutally violated and raped to death.

I underwent a full physical examination at a clinic. After receiving the medical examination form, I walked to the door of a house. My master told me and Park Young-hee to go inside; he had to go to work. The

person in charge there was that donkey-faced Japanese man. He sat arrogantly in his chair, staring at her pretty face with ill intent.

After Park Young-hee pleaded incessantly, the donkey-faced man finally gave her a permit.

She went to work.

On the way back, I wondered if this counted as bigamy.

Because the medical examination form said that my body was not yet fully recovered and I needed a long period of recuperation, I could not engage in physical labor for three days. Three days is a long period of time? Are you kidding me?

Evening. I lay in my master's wooden house, hearing the noise outside; people seemed to be leaving work.

When the foreman came in and saw me still at his house, he laughed and scolded, "Go back to your house and sleep."

Then, he pushed me into the wooden hut next door.

Park Young-hee was gazing sadly at her husband's portrait on the wall, tears streaming down her face. Seeing me enter, she hurriedly got up

, took the photo down, and put it in the cabinet. I stopped her and personally hung the portrait back in its place.

She cried with emotion, repeatedly saying thank you in Korean!

Soon, dinner was ready, and she gestured and spoke.

My Japanese is okay, but I don't speak any Korean. Fortunately, Park Young-hee speaks Japanese, so communication wasn't a problem. She meant for me to eat quickly.

Just as I finished eating, the foreman called me from outside. I went out and saw him carrying two buckets, asking me to come with him to fetch water.

"Is there water in the water tank?"

I wondered.

Seeing that the foreman had already walked away, I found a carrying pole outside, picked up the buckets, and followed him.

On the way, he told me that he had seen the list of personnel on duty that night; there were seven batches, one batch per day, with 50 people in each batch. Madan and Park Young-hee's names were on the first list, which was tonight. He added that judging from the number of names on the list, there were quite a few people being served, indicating that the warships that arrived this morning were an aircraft carrier group that would stay for about a week. Whenever warships were stationed there, the full-time comfort women in the comfort stations would be overwhelmed, and the women on the island would be temporarily notified to work overtime to help, with the volunteer service team naturally being the first choice. Madan and Park Young-hee were members of the volunteer service team, so they appeared on the first list.

My master and I were carrying water for Madan and Park Young-hee to bathe in. Because the staff on duty had to clean themselves at home before going on duty, although they had to clean themselves again after entering the house, the Japanese considered the lower classes dirty and were afraid of bringing dirt from outside in.

On the way back carrying water, the foreman pointed to the brightly lit Green Zone on the north side of the island and said, "Iluju Island is like a gourd, narrow in the middle and wide at both ends. The island is divided in two, with the Japanese occupying the relatively larger end. We lower-class people are not allowed to enter without permission. It has everything, but the security is much tighter, like the Green Zone in Iraq."

While Park Young-hee was washing herself, I still felt a little uncomfortable, so I hid outside. Although we were married, mainly out of pity for her, and also because marriage registrations here are not recognized outside, my legal wife was Chen Juan.

Thinking of Juanzi, my eyes reddened. I wondered if I would ever see her again in this life.

"Hurry up, we'll be late if we delay any longer."

At this moment, the foreman came carrying the child and Madan.

Park Young-hee came out of the house upon hearing this.

"They're on duty, what are we men doing there? We can't be comforting them, can we?"

I asked, puzzled.

"The island's regulations stipulate that family members must personally pick up and drop off women on duty,"

the foreman said.

The gate to the green zone is in the middle of the island, at the narrowest part of the gourd shape. Along the way, we saw groups of two or three men and women; the women were all dressed in Japanese kimonos and wooden clogs. There were husbands seeing off their wives, fathers seeing off their daughters, brothers seeing off their sisters, and sons seeing off their mothers.

I noticed that among these women working overtime, there were quite a few pretty girls. The crowd chatted and laughed, occasionally letting out bursts of laughter; they didn't seem to be facing the sorrow of being bullied and abused.

"They can still laugh? Are they going to be... questioned?"

The master didn't speak, carrying the child towards the daycare center.

The three of us stopped beside him.

Madan and Park Young-hee didn't understand Chinese, so I explained it to them in Japanese. After hearing it, they looked at each other and smiled.

Park Young-hee said sadly, "The women on the island all want to work shifts because they get 0.5 island dollars per shift, a day off, and their children can stay overnight in the daycare. They can also enjoy the sauna there. The women are all very clean, and the bathing facilities are advanced; it's much more comfortable to bathe there than in the thatched huts."

She continued, "Many women often bribe the Japanese manager to get more night shift opportunities."

A long line formed at the entrance, with people going through security. I looked inside from the entrance and saw the women who had already gone through security lining up to enter a building next to the gate. In

the early morning, the entrance to the Green Zone was filled with men picking up their families, and women filed out of the gate.

Madan was in a good mood, but I noticed that Park Young-hee was walking slowly, looking exhausted.

Madan covered her mouth and laughed, saying, "I only served one customer, while Park Young-hee served two. What she couldn't stand was that one of them was a black man."

I helped Park Young-hee home.

Park Young-hee slept all day, only getting out of bed in the evening. She pulled a bunch of food from her bag—compressed biscuits, canned goods, chewing gum, etc.—and happily placed them in my hands.

A wave of sadness washed over me! These things used to be so ordinary. People like Madan and Park Young-hee, who had been mistresses or concubines of drug dealers, had worn all sorts of clothes and eaten all sorts of fancy meals. Yet now they were so excited about things they wouldn't have even looked at before. It was truly pathetic.

Park Young-hee slowly recounted what had happened the previous night.

Yesterday, they first went to a sauna for a nice bath, and then each of them, naked, put on a kimono. Since the comfort station was full, they were taken to a hotel. They were each assigned to a small tatami room, where they first took birth control pills, took out contraceptives, and then knelt at the door to wait for their guests.

The volunteer service team's clients were mid- to high-ranking officers on the ship. Park Young-hee's first client was an American, I think a colonel, about forty years old, very refined and serious. He asked me to watch TV with him, and we sat for quite a while before starting. He couldn't get an erection, and when he finally did, she put a condom on him, applied lubricant, and then lay back on the tatami mat with her legs spread.

He straddled her and began mechanical thrusting, and she pretended to be excited, making a few fake moans before he ejaculated. Afterwards, the colonel was very upset. She got up to help him remove the condom, and as she was about to wipe him clean with a hot towel, he pushed me away and left. She said it took him less than three minutes from start to finish.

Park Young-hee laughed as she told this.

I thought about how pathetic I was, and couldn't help but feel sorry for the colonel.

Because her client left early, and there were many other clients, the Japanese manager assigned her another client, this time a Black man.

This black man was tall and strong, with a lot of muscles, like a boxer. It was this black man who made her suffer so much.

"He was very rough, going straight to my body without any foreplay. It hurt a lot, and I groaned a few times—groans of pain. When he saw me groan, he thought I was aroused, so he used even more force and became even more brutal. What I couldn't stand was that this black man's penis was so long; every time it entered me, it felt like it was hitting my heart. He kept changing positions, trying different tricks, sometimes making me lie down, sometimes making me crawl, as if he had inexhaustible energy. My body was being tortured to the point of falling apart, but he showed no signs of ejaculating. He ravaged me for a long time. Finally, this black guy picked me up and spun me around the room, slamming me against the wall. I went limp, my hands, which were tightly holding his shoulders, slipped, and my body sank. I felt the black man's penis break through my cervix and plunge into my uterus. After that, I knew nothing more."

"When I woke up again, the black man was gone. I felt sore and weak that I couldn't move. But he left me a lot of food."

She said, handing me a can of food.

How could I possibly eat it? These foods were all earned by Park Young-hee through prostitution. Was it really for these meager meals and other insignificant favors that these so-called lower classes were reduced to such lowliness?

Yes, as a vulnerable group in society, women in occupied territories became spoils and objects of abuse for the occupiers. They not only had to bear the emotional pain of losing their families, but also the physical pain of being humiliated and the psychological pressure of being discriminated against.

I gently put the can back and touched it tenderly.

Park Young-hee gratefully pressed her cheek against the back of my hand.

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