Uncle's Confession: Me and My 23-Year-Old Beautiful Middle School Homeroom Teacher (24-27)

page views:1 Publication date:2023-07-25

24.
It was evening when the plane landed in Chengdu. As soon as we arrived outside the port, we saw Aimani waiting with our mixed-race son, Chen Si'ai. She had specially driven to pick us up.
Remembering what had happened during the day, I felt a pang of guilt towards Aimani. She ran over and picked up her half-brother, asking if he missed his sister. Little Si'ai said yes, and Aimani happily kissed him several times.
Although this girl was still indifferent to her mother, Ai'ai, she genuinely loved this brother. Her half-brother, Cui Chenghao, was in South Korea and they rarely saw each other, so she poured all her sisterly love into Chen Si'ai.
Aimani smiled and shifted her gaze from the siblings to me, asking if I was tired. I said no.
At this moment, Aimani put her brother down, called out, "Let's go home!" and took his hand, running alongside them.
Aimani and I smiled at each other, my left arm around her shoulder, my right hand dragging our suitcases, as we caught up with the siblings. In my heart, I thought, everything is over, and everything is just beginning anew.
Li Meishan is already married to someone else, while my life with Aimei and Xiao Si'ai has just begun. Let's consider what happened during the day as the final farewell between Li Meishan and me, a secret that will never be known to anyone.
That evening, after dropping Ni'er off at her grandparents' house, we returned home.
While my son Xiao Si'ai and I were taking a bath, Aimei organized my luggage, put my clothes in the washing machine, and then washed my underwear and socks. When
she was almost done, she went into the bathroom, sat on the edge of the bathtub, and touched Xiao Si'ai's hair, asking if I had washed it.
I said I had. She said it still felt greasy, and asked if it was clean. I said, "Why don't you wash it again?"
Amy picked up shampoo and started applying it to her son's head, giving me a coquettish glare as she did so. "What use is a father like you to us? You can't even wash your hair properly..."
After rinsing Si'ai clean, she laughed, "That's better now..."
I said to Chen Si'ai, "Shall we let Mommy come in and soak with us?"
The little guy said yes, giggling. Amy was a little shy and laughed, "Why? Why should I squeeze in with you two men taking a bath?"
To be honest, Chen Si'ai was over three years old, and Amy was a little embarrassed.
I encouraged my son to shout with me, "Mommy, come in, Mommy, come in..."
Amy sighed and laughed, "I just can't do anything with you two..."
She started taking off her clothes, telling Chen Si'ai not to look at her. I turned the little guy's head and said, "Don't peek at Mommy's naked body!"
After Amy finished undressing, she stepped into the bathtub and sat behind her son, pulling him into her arms and kissing him twice. "My baby is so good, Mommy loves you so much..."
The three of us soaked in the bath like that, enjoying each other's company. I suddenly thought of Li Meishan again, and a wave of sadness washed over me.
I immediately told myself that everything was in the past, and the mother and son in front of me were everything.
I took my son to the shower, dried him off, and called Aimani to shower too.
She got out of the bathtub but suddenly sat down, splashing a lot of water. I asked her what was wrong. She said she hadn't eaten anything during the day during Ramadan, and hadn't eaten properly tonight because she was going to pick us up from the airport, so she might have low blood sugar.
I said she needed to eat something quickly, so after drying Chen Si'ai off, I settled him in the bedroom and immediately went to the kitchen to cook Aimani a bowl of noodles and poached an egg.
Aimani praised the noodles as delicious. I laughed and said it was just a bowl of noodles, how delicious could it be? She said, "Of course! My husband cooked these noodles for me."
Usually, she takes care of all the meals at home; I almost never help, and Aimani never lets me help either. She wasn't a housewife; she was a university professor, yet she cared for and served my son and me like a full-time housewife. I felt incredibly fortunate to have such a wife in my life.
"Husband..." Amy suddenly looked up at me, looking troubled, and said, "Because Ramadan isn't over yet, I still can't do 'that' with you tonight."
According to the Quran, sexual intercourse is forbidden during Ramadan. I smiled slightly, "I know! Why are you bringing this up?"
"I was afraid you couldn't hold back after a month! It's okay, just a few more days," she laughed.
I felt guilty towards Amy again because of what had happened during the day.
That night before bed, at Amy's request, I told her about Li Meishan's recent situation. Amy said the girl was truly pitiful and asked if I had any regrets.
I hugged her and laughed, "Regret what? Regret marrying you and letting her marry someone else? Let me tell you, I've never regretted it. Being with you is my good fortune. Not being with her is my fate. What's there to regret?"
Amy nestled in my arms, silent for a moment before wiping away tears. "Honey, how about we go back to Morocco? We can take Missan there too, so you can be with both of us legitimately. Besides, in our Islamic marriages, there's no distinction between wives and concubines; all wives are equal. If that girl is willing..."
I couldn't help but laugh, "You have quite the imagination; you dare to say anything?"
“I’m serious…” She lifted her head from my embrace and looked at me. “I’ll continue teaching over there. A senior engineer like you, who has designed many projects, might not be rare in China, but you’re a much-needed talent in our country. You’ll definitely find a good job. We can work together and support our family…”
I interrupted her, saying, “Xiao Ai, I know you’re sincere, but I appreciate your good intentions. I don’t want to enjoy the benefits of having two wives, and besides, Mei Shan wouldn’t do such a thing. Back then, you refused to come to China with me to protect that bastard Hassan’s dignity. Now, Mei Shan probably wouldn’t abandon her new husband to elope with me. You’re both good women; if you couldn’t do this back then, Mei Shan probably wouldn’t either.”
“Sigh!” Ai Mai Ni sighed and buried her head in my arms again.
A little over a month later, we moved into our new home. During this time, Zhang Mi told me that Li Mei Shan was pregnant, and Gao Xiang’s family was overjoyed.
However, Zhang Mi said that Li Meishan didn't want to have a child so soon, since she wasn't a permanent employee at the publishing house, and taking maternity leave might mean losing her position. But the Gao family insisted she give birth.
Gao's father even said that if the first child was a girl, they would try again until they had a boy, as the family had the money to raise a child.
I truly felt sorry for Li Meishan; Gao Xiang's parents really treated her like a breeding machine to carry on the family line. I wondered how she would handle this. But then again, becoming a mother might not be a bad thing for Li Meishan, and I could only wish her well.
Summer vacation was about to begin (due to the pandemic, many universities in Chengdu, including the one where Aimeni taught, started their summer vacation earlier than usual). Aimeni said she wanted to go back to Morocco; her father's health had been poor recently, and she was very worried about him. Besides, it had been nine months since she left home with Xiao Si'ai, and she missed home and her daughter. Going back for Eid al-Adha would be a good idea.
I naturally supported her and asked if she would take Chen Si'ai back with her. I didn't have any vacation time and couldn't accompany her. Amy said forget it; China's control measures are still strict, international flights are expensive, and she'd have to quarantine for over ten days upon return, so she wouldn't bother. She'd go back alone; anyway, Chen Si'ai was being taken care of by my parents here, so she felt at ease.
The night before Amy returned to Morocco, we made love tenderly, again and again. She actually cried, saying she didn't want to leave because she didn't want to be separated from me and our son for so long.
After all, it's a rare opportunity to go back, and she'll be staying there for at least a month or two. I said, "You'll miss your family here, and you'll miss me and our son there. What are we going to do?"
She comforted me, saying that we video chat every day, and she won't miss them so much.
The next day, I took Amy to the airport. After nine months, she embarked on her journey back to her homeland.
There were her loved ones there, whom she missed day and night: her father, Mahrani, her daughter, Nahid, and her sister-in-law, Higul…

25.
After arriving in Morocco, Amy contacted me on WeChat every day and video chatted with me and Chen Si'ai. She even had her daughter, Nahid, video chat with me and Chen Si'ai.
Amy said she missed me and our son so much and wanted to go back to China immediately, but she also wanted to spend more time with her parents and daughter. She cried when she said this.
I said, "Silly girl, it's a rare opportunity to go back. Just stay there peacefully. Your son will be taken care of by me and your parents. Don't worry about us."
As Eid al-Adha approached, Amy told me she was pregnant, conceived the night before she returned to Morocco, during sex.
I was naturally overjoyed. Amy asked if I wanted a boy or a girl this time. I said it didn't matter, I loved any child that was ours.
Soon Eid al-Adha arrived, a major festival in the Muslim world, no less important than Eid al-Fitr. That day, Amy sent me a video. In the video, she, Higul, and their families were all dressed in traditional Arab and Berber clothing, celebrating the festival together.
Seeing this, I really wanted to take my son and fly to Amy, who was pregnant with my child again, to be with my beloved wife and her family, experiencing this festive holiday filled with exotic charm.
Amy said she would take my son and me back to Morocco for Eid al-Fitr next year. Then she said no, next year's Eid al-Fitr would be the time she gave birth to this baby, so we'd have to find another opportunity later.
During our video call, she cried again, saying she missed me and our son.
We were so immersed in longing and sweet memories that we never imagined a devastating tragedy was about to unfold.
One day in mid-July, Sigurd called me with unbelievable news—Aimeini had been murdered.
This was a bolt from the blue; my world seemed to collapse…
Because Morocco offers visa-free entry to Chinese citizens (within 90 days), I immediately set off for Morocco.
Sigurd had advised me against it, saying that given the current situation in China, the round trip would be too much of a hassle. But no matter what, I had to bring Aimeini's ashes back and bury her beside me and my son.
This was the fourth time in my life I had flown to that distant land.
The first time, I went there to reflect on my guilt and remorse towards Li Meishan; I never imagined I would meet and get to know Aimeini there.
The second time, Aimeini and I returned there after a business trip to China; we were beginning to understand each other.
The third time was after we broke up; I returned to China to visit my ailing father and then went back there. At that time, I never imagined that we would get back together, that she would give me a son, and that we would spend those nine wonderful months together.
Now, the plane is flying over the Black Sea, straddling the Eurasian continent, and sitting in the cabin, I am overwhelmed with grief and tears stream down my face once more.
That afternoon, when I arrived in Casablanca, Sigurd picked me up from the airport and took me to Amyne's parents' house.
I met Amyne's parents, stepmother, younger brother, and sister; they were all deeply saddened. This was the first time I had met anyone from my wife's family other than Sigurd, but Amyne was already gone.
That evening, in the room where Amyne had lived, Sigurd's husband, Amyne's older brother, and my brother-in-law Ashraf, also met me. The couple handed me Amyne's urn and some of her belongings.
Ashraf's full name was Ashraf Mahrani Abdul; he was a few years younger than me and bore a resemblance to Amyne.
Accompanying the couple was their adopted daughter, two-year-old Nahid Ashraf Mahrani, whom I had specifically requested. Having come all this way, I had to see Aymani's daughter.
The little girl was absolutely beautiful, like a little angel, perfectly inheriting the best features of both Hassan and Aymani. Her biological father, Hassan, though a scoundrel, was handsome.
Nahid also looked very much like her mother, Aymani, especially her dreamy eyes, which were exactly like Aymani's. The moment I saw her, it was as if I were seeing Aymani again; I hugged her tightly and wept uncontrollably.
Although I already knew roughly what had happened to Aymani, I still listened to Shigul recount it in detail.
After Eid al-Adha, Aymani went from Casablanca to Rabat. She had previously listed her house in Rabat online for sale, entrusting the details to Shigul.
She came to pack up and organize some of her belongings, throwing away what needed to be thrown away and taking what needed to be taken back to China.
"I originally wanted to go to Rabat with her because she was pregnant, but she said it wasn't a big deal since she was newly pregnant, and she didn't want me to come, she just borrowed my car. That night I called her, but she didn't answer, and I started to worry..."
"The next day, Ashraf and I drove to Rabat to find her, and when we entered the house, we found her lying in a pool of blood..."
Shiguli broke down in tears as she said this, while Ashraf comforted her.
According to the police investigation and deduction, Aimeni suffered multiple stab wounds, suggesting a robbery and murder, as the perpetrator took Aimeni's money, rings, and cell phone. The perpetrator's whereabouts are currently unknown.
"Is there a possibility..." After listening to Xiguli's account, I said in a deep voice, "It wasn't a robbery and murder as it's supposedly; that's just a cover-up. In reality, Hassan hired someone to kill her, or he himself is the murderer who killed Amyni..."
Xiguli raised her tearful eyes, exchanged glances with Ashraf, and then looked at me together.
In fact, before leaving China, I had been pondering this matter. How could it be such a coincidence that Amyni had just arrived at this house she hadn't lived in for years, and then was killed here by the people who robbed her?
"Do you know that Amyni has something on Hassan?" I asked.
Higul and her husband exchanged a glance and nodded. "I heard Amyni mention this, but we don't know the specifics. She wouldn't tell us when we asked her..."
"I heard Amyni say that she has evidence of Hassan bribing government officials. This evidence is enough to put Hassan in jail and ruin his life..."
"Really?" Higul said in surprise. "My God! So that's how it is. No wonder Hassan agreed to the divorce and let Amyni and the two children go."
I nodded at her. "So I think this is enough to give that man the motive to kill her to silence her. Besides, maybe Hassan already knows that Chen Si'ai... oh, that is, Ahmed is not his child, which also made him want to kill her..."
I paused for a moment and then said, "But I don't understand. Amyni has been in China for the past nine months. How did Hassan know that she returned to Morocco during this time? And who leaked the news of her return and her whereabouts to Hassan?"
After analyzing the evidence, I told Shigul that once we returned to China, I would send the evidence that Amyni had left on her computer at home to her email address, just in case. I also instructed her and Ashraf to provide this information and clues to the police and not to tell anyone in the family about it, so as not to alert the suspects. The couple agreed.
That night, after Shigul and Ashraf left with Nashid, I was looking through Amyni's belongings when I found a sketch of her. This drawing, on a page of notebook paper, was a casual sketch I made more than five years ago when Amyni and I first met. I never expected she would keep it until now.
There were also two lines of Arabic text that Amyni later wrote on it, which translates to—March 15, 2017, the Chinese man who drew this picture, he stole my heart.
At that moment, the scene of my first meeting with Amyni flashed through my mind.
"Hello, I'm Amyni. Are you Engineer Chen from China?"
On that day, that month, that year, outside the departure gate of Sierra International Airport, that beautiful Arab woman smiled and extended her right hand to me, speaking in fluent Chinese.
Though everything seems like yesterday, she is gone. Tears streamed down my face as I tightly clutched the urn, calling out her name again and again in my heart—Amyni…

26.
I spent four days in Casablanca, going nowhere. Immersed in grief, I had no interest in this world-renowned city.
I really wanted to find Hassan, to confront him, to ask if he did it, if he killed my wife and her unborn child? And to seek revenge.
But I knew I couldn't do that. I had no real evidence, and being unfamiliar with the place, it would be futile except to alert him. I could only leave everything to the police.
On my third day in Morocco, I received news from the police that Hassan had disappeared, but there was no record of him leaving the country; he was probably still hiding somewhere in the country. This further confirmed my suspicions.
Police also said that Hassan was suspected not only of Amyni's death but also of multiple counts of bribing government officials and manipulating business competition. They were preparing to investigate him, but he had already gone into hiding.
In addition, I learned that Amyni's parents had a Libyan maid who suddenly quit before Amyni's death. We suspected that this maid might have leaked information about Amyni's return to Libya and her trip to Rabat to clean the house to Hassan, receiving a bribe from him and then disappearing from public view. At
Shiguli's urging, I took Amyni's ashes and belongings and set off for Libya. I could only wait for news back home; staying here would only add to my grief and was pointless.
The day I left the quarantine hotel, Cui Taihao and Zhao Lin drove to pick me and Amyni's ashes. They had rushed back to Chengdu from South Korea as soon as they received the devastating news, arriving in Libya before me.
Zhao Lin was now more than two months pregnant; this was her and Cui Taihao's second child, and the third life she was carrying.
When I saw them, my legs went weak, and I knelt on the ground, clutching the urn, silently weeping. Zhao Lin, disregarding Cui Taihao's presence, held my head in her arms, tears streaming down her face.
At that moment, my ex-wife already considered me family. Cui Taihao, watching us, also wept.
After all, I was his close friend, and the woman in the urn was the mother of his stepdaughter's half-brother. Past years and kinship bound us closely together.
On the day of Amyni's burial, besides my son, Cui Taihao, and Zhao Lin, my daughter, my parents, brother, and sister-in-law also came to bid Amyni her final farewell.
Although Amyni's full name has many characters when translated into Chinese, I insisted on having her full name—Amyni Mahrani Abdul—engraved on the tombstone, with Arabic inscription next to the Chinese.
At the time, the cemetery staff asked me, "Was your wife Uyghur or Hui?" I said neither; she was Moroccan.
Clearly, this staff member was quite unfamiliar with the name of this country, probably hearing about it for the first time. As for me, that land will be etched in my memory forever. One day I will return to that land to reminisce about my past with Amy, and to take Chen Si'ai to visit his maternal grandparents and his half-sister, Nashid.
Next to her name were Amy's birth and death dates—born February 27, 1991, died July 17, 2022.
The inscription read: Husband: Chen Zhongyan, Son: Chen Si'ai.
Her life was forever frozen at the age of thirty-one, never to grow old again…
For the next three days, I didn't go to work, like a walking corpse, either lying in bed or sitting on the sofa in a daze, repeatedly recalling the time I spent with Amy.
Zhao Lin let Cui Taihao return to South Korea first, since he already held an important position in his father's group company; she stayed behind to accompany and take care of me for the time being.
That evening, once again, I lay on the bed, refusing to eat or drink, lost in thought. My mother and Ni'er stood by my bedside, one holding a bowl of rice, the other a plate of vegetables, their eyes brimming with tears.
"Son, please eat something! It's been days. How can you go without food and water? I'm begging you..."
my mother pleaded, tears streaming down her face. Ni'er looked at me with tears in her eyes too. "Yes! Dad, please listen to Grandma!"
But I remained motionless, not even blinking, staring blankly at a certain spot.
At that moment, Zhao Lin walked in and said to my mother in a low voice, "Mom, let me..."
She and I had always addressed each other's parents as "Mom and Dad. "
My mother sighed, handed the bowl to her former daughter-in-law, and stepped aside to wipe her tears.
Zhao Lin sat down, scooped a spoonful of rice and brought it to my lips, coldly saying, "Open your mouth!"
I still didn't open my mouth. She said again, "Are you going to eat or not?"
I remained unmoved. Zhao Lin suddenly flew into a rage, forcibly feeding me rice and yelling, "You bastard, I told you to eat, didn't you hear me?"
My mother exclaimed, "Lin'er, what are you doing?"
Ni'er also cried out, "Mom, don't do this..."
Zhao Lin put down the bowl and stormed out. My mother quickly wiped the rice grains from my mouth with a tissue, muttering as she did so, "What is she doing? Is this how you feed someone?"
Ni'er tried to comfort her, "Grandma, don't be angry, Mom was just in a hurry."
My mother was still dissatisfied, "No matter how anxious or angry she is, she can't get rice all over my son's face! Is this how she acts?"
Zhao Lin came back in, holding a glass of water, and said, "Mom, move aside."
My mother moved aside, and Zhao Lin raised her hand and splashed cold water on my face.
"Zhao Lin, are you crazy?" my mother scolded angrily.
Zhao Lin said to her, "Mom, don't worry about it..."
Then she turned to me, "Chen Zhongyan, what do you want? What exactly do you want?"
She paused, then continued, "Do you think Xiao Ai in heaven would want to see you like this? Do you think torturing yourself like this serves any purpose other than making us suffer?"
"The dead are gone, the living remain. You've read so many books, don't you understand this principle? Si Ai is still so young, she needs your care, and Ni'er can't live without you, her father. Are you willing to just stand by and watch them, brother and sister, without any concern?"
“Who are you doing this to? Are you doing this to Xiao Ai who passed away? Or to your mother, who is over seventy and still worries about you so much? Or to me, your ex-wife who neglected her husband and son, and stayed by your side to take care of you while pregnant?”
She said, tears streaming down her face. The grandmother and granddaughter were also crying, looking at her and then at me.
Zhao Lin wiped away her tears, picked up the bowl of rice and fed me. I slowly opened my mouth and chewed mechanically.
“Don’t just eat rice, eat some vegetables. Ni’er, quickly feed your dad some vegetables, I’ll go get the soup…” my mother said happily, and left the room.
From that night on, I pulled myself together. Although I was still immersed in grief, I stopped torturing myself to death.
After I felt better, Zhao Lin also went back to South Korea. She had a husband and son to take care of there, and she couldn’t keep staying with her ex-husband.
One night, when I woke up in the middle of the night, I couldn’t help but shed tears on my pillow, crying and calling out Ai Mai Ni’s name.
Nier, who slept in the next room, woke up and came into my room. Chen Si'ai had been staying with my parents, being cared for by them. Since it was still the holidays, my mother had asked Nier to stay with me.
"Dad, what's wrong? Are you thinking about Auntie Xiao Ai again?" Nier got into bed and hugged me.
I cried in my daughter's arms for a while, then calmed down. Nier, with tears in her eyes, said she shouldn't have been so hostile towards Auntie Xiao Ai. Auntie Xiao Ai was an extraordinary woman; she was a great wife and mother…
My daughter and I hugged each other and wept for a while, talking, and then fell asleep without realizing it.

27.
Time heals all wounds. Although I may never truly escape the grief of Aimeni's death, I've pulled myself together. Going to work, traveling, boxing, reading, watching sports, taking care of the children—I did what I was supposed to do.
That September, news came from Morocco that the murderer had been caught. Just as I suspected, the murderer was Hassan.
Hassan had already learned from the Libyan maid from Amyni's family that Ahmed wasn't his child, but at the time, he couldn't find Amyni and her son to carry out his revenge.
During Amyni's return to Morocco, Hassan learned through inside information that the government would be investigating him for allegedly bribing officials and manipulating business competition; the person who provided the information urged him to flee immediately.
Hassan was convinced this was related to Amyni, and he also learned of her whereabouts from the maid he had bribed. Therefore, he decided to kill Amyni before fleeing.
The maid was a former Libyan refugee who had fled her homeland during the Libyan civil war. She had spent some time in Tunisia, where she was raped by her master, and later ended up in Morocco where she was taken in by Amyni's parents, who treated her well. After receiving Hassan's money, she immediately returned to Libya.
I think the most complex thing in the world is the human heart and human nature. This Libyan woman was also a victim of suffering, perhaps even originally a kind person, yet she betrayed her good master for money, leading to Aymani's tragic death.
Before this, who could have imagined that such a person would indirectly cause Aymani's death?
If Hassan was inherently wicked, then this woman fully embodies the coexistence of good and evil in human nature, and how the switch from good to evil can happen in an instant.
This reminds me of Qian Zhongshu's words—"The malice of an honest and kind person is like a fishbone that hasn't been completely removed, causing unexpected harm."
After killing Aymani, Hassan fled overnight, driving south, then bought a camel, and crossed the border eastward from the northern edge of the Sahara Desert to Algeria, where he hid in a village in this neighboring country.
According to Hassan's confession, due to the arduous journey and the need to evade border patrols, he nearly died of thirst and sunburn in the desert, barely escaping to Algeria.
This monster who killed his daughter's biological mother ultimately could not escape justice. He has been arrested by Algerian police and extradited back to Morocco, where he will face legal punishment.
After learning these facts, I felt a wave of fear and relief. Fortunately, Chen Si'ai did not return to Morocco with her mother, otherwise she would not have escaped Hassan's clutches.
At the same time, I felt heartbroken for little Nahid. It's hard to imagine how she will face the fact that her biological father murdered her biological mother. The only way is to never let her know, to always believe that she is her adoptive parents' biological daughter.
That day, I went to Aimeni's grave, told her the news, and cried bitterly.
One day in October, while browsing sports news online, I saw a headline: South Korea's Dong-A Group officially acquires K1 League team Jeonbuk Hyundai Motors.
"According to South Korean media reports, Dong-A Group Co., Ltd. recently completed its acquisition of Jeonbuk Hyundai Motors, a K-1 professional football team..."
"...Dong-A Group Co., Ltd. started in the restaurant industry in the 1970s. After decades of development, it has expanded into real estate, hotels, tourism, and entertainment. This acquisition of Jeonbuk Hyundai Motors signifies that this long-established company is once again venturing into the professional football arena..." "
...As a long-established professional football team in South Korea, Jeonbuk Hyundai Motors has encountered severe financial difficulties in recent years. With Dong-A Group's takeover, it is bound to have an opportunity for a comeback..." "
...It is reported that Choi Tae-ho, the young master of Dong-A Group Co., Ltd., will become the new chairman of Jeonbuk Hyundai Motors Professional Football Club Co., Ltd. As the youngest son of Choi Doo-hwan, the founder of Dong-A Group, Choi Tae-ho has served as the chairman of Dong-A Group since March of this year. He has worked and lived in China for a long time and still retains Chinese citizenship. He is a successful lawyer and owns a law firm in Chengdu..."
"...Chairman Choi Tae-ho and his wife attended the signing ceremony. In an interview, he stated that the acquisition of Jeonbuk Hyundai Motors was both a family matter and his personal wish..."
The report was richly illustrated with photos, one of which showed a beautifully dressed Zhao Lin, arm in arm with Choi Tae-ho, smiling charmingly and confidently at the media. Although four months pregnant and her belly clearly showing, she remained elegant and graceful, exuding an air of sophistication.
"...Chairman Choi Tae-ho's Chinese wife, Zhao Lin, was also a lawyer in the past. She gave an interview in Korean, saying that she never commented on her husband's work and didn't understand football, but she had a very important friend who loved football, so she was very happy about her husband and family's acquisition..."
Seeing this couple quickly adapting to their new roles, I was genuinely happy for them.
I had previously heard Zhao Lin say that the Choi family initially disagreed on whether to acquire Jeonbuk Hyundai Motors, and it was with her encouragement that Choi Tae-ho persuaded his father and the board of directors to agree to let him run the company.
After all, the Choi family business had long been firmly controlled by Choi Tae-ho's older brothers and sisters, making it extremely difficult to intervene. This time, taking a unique and unconventional approach to become the head of the family business was a rare opportunity for Choi Tae-ho, meaning he could finally get a share of the family fortune.
Of course, Choi Tae-ho also faced immense pressure; his older brothers and sisters were openly and secretly waiting to see him fail. Acquiring and operating a professional football team didn't infringe on their vested interests, so they had no reason to oppose it. If things went poorly, it would only give them an opportunity to kick their illegitimate younger brother when he was down.
I couldn't help but feel worried about Choi Tae-ho and Zhao Lin's situation within that wealthy family. But I also knew that operating a professional football club was a completely new challenge for Choi Tae-ho, but not an impossible task.
For example, Suning Group acquired the century-old Italian powerhouse Inter Milan, and its young heir, Zhang Kangyang, who had never been involved in football before, performed admirably as the club's chairman. I believe my dear friend is no less capable than anyone else. From
November 21st to December 18th of that year, the world-renowned World Cup was held in Qatar.
In this World Cup, besides supporting my favorite Brazilian team as always, I also supported the Moroccan team, because of Amyne, and because of my years in Morocco.
Whenever the Moroccan team played, my son and I would wear Amyne's national team jersey and sit in front of the television to cheer for this team nicknamed the Atlas Lions.
The outstanding Moroccan team eliminated the powerful Portuguese team in the quarterfinals to reach the semifinals, becoming the first African team in history to reach the World Cup semifinals, creating history for Moroccan and African football.
That night, I called Higul, and she said that the whole of Morocco was celebrating, with people from every city taking to the streets to celebrate this unprecedented victory. She also said that her husband, Ashraf, and the men in her family (Amy's father, second brother, and younger brother) were overjoyed and celebrating wildly.
In my heart, I said to Amy in heaven, "Amy, can you see this? Your country's team, your beloved Morocco team, has reached the World Cup semi-finals. You must be so happy right now!"
I suddenly thought of Li Meishan, a Ronaldo fan. I wondered if she watched the game? And whether she saw the image of the valiant but aging Ronaldo weeping in the players' tunnel after the match?
At that moment, the passionate and poetic voice of the commentator, He Wei, still echoed in my ears.
"Morocco won; the Atlas Lions deserved the victory. And Portugal, where land ends and sea begins, went home. Cristiano Ronaldo bid farewell to his final World Cup in such a desolate way..."
"...Perhaps life is like this; it's not as bad as you imagine, but it's certainly not as good as you imagine. Football is life; life has its joys and sorrows. As Romain Rolland said, 'There is only one heroism in the world: to see the cruelty of life and still love it...'"
Yes! Life has its joys and sorrows; everything has passed, and everything will begin anew.

(To be continued)

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