A typical story of a post-80s generation, please listen to me slowly, part 4: True Love

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Starting in third grade, the biggest change was Yi transferring schools to study vocal music in a big city. We lost contact completely before we even had a chance to say goodbye, and haven't seen each other since.
My mature young man could only satisfy his physical needs with his hands. During that time, I tried dating the prettiest girl in my class, but was ruthlessly rejected. I tried dating a junior girl, but lost all interest. I just wished the days would pass quickly, that I could graduate and start working sooner—it was all about looking forward to the future. My
only sexual encounter in third grade was a one-night stand with a junior girl after drinking. It didn't matter before, and it didn't matter the next day, but I only remembered the black spot on her butt when I saw her on campus. Then I became obsessed with women in their thirties, feeling how mature and alluring their every move was. I would ejaculate every day imagining which woman I saw that day.
I've tried hiring prostitutes, but no matter how strong my physical desires were, even after I was completely naked once, the thought of the dirtiness of their bodies quickly made me lose my erection. Even now, I've seen many classmates, colleagues, and friends hiring prostitutes, but I've always maintained my bottom line and can't bring myself to do it.
After graduation, I got a job smoothly—a government-affiliated institution, a secure job, just coasting along. Our system arranges training for new employees right after graduation, which lasts about a year on and off. The first time I went, because I'd just received my salary, I was busy drinking and eating with acquaintances, getting drunk three times that day. The second time, I was late because of the shuttle bus. Standing at the door, about to go in, I saw a beautiful woman rushing over. She wore a white dress, had medium-length hair, was under 1.6 meters tall, had big eyes, an oval face, and fair skin—perfectly proportioned. She really caught my eye.
We went into the classroom together, and because we were late, we ended up sitting together in the corner of the last row. The training was incredibly boring, and I'd developed feelings for her, so I started chatting with her casually. Her name was Yan, and her workplace was about an hour's drive from mine. From our conversation, she seemed like a gentle and virtuous girl, exactly the kind of ideal marriage partner we'd all agreed on during our previous late-night talks. I thought, "God said there was light, and there was light; God said I didn't have a girlfriend, and my right hand was tired, so He sent me one."
We exchanged pager numbers. That evening, after dinner, I got home past ten. Lying in bed with my eyes closed, all I could see was her image, her voice, and her smile. After a moment, I picked up the phone and eagerly paged her. A while later, the phone rang. I answered, unsure what to say. She was silent for a moment too, then said, "Is that you? I thought you'd page me much earlier; I've been waiting." My heart raced, and I started stammering. I asked where she was, and she said her home was far away, so she was staying in a hotel with a colleague. I said, "I want to see you," and she said, "Okay." After finding out the location, I rode my bicycle from home to the hotel as fast as I could.
When I arrived, I found her already waiting for me in the lobby. I ran to her, our eyes met, and I pulled her into a tight hug, ignoring the strange looks from the receptionist. I told her, "I missed you. It's only been five hours, but it felt like forever." She trembled in my arms and told me she thought I would come to see her after school. We hugged for a long, long time. People were coming and going in the hotel lobby, and everyone was giving us stares.
It was almost midnight when I got back. We had agreed to attend the training together, so for the next four or five days, we sat together in class, chatted, and ate together. I took her to the hotel every day and got to know her roommate. Later, seeing that her roommate was quite good-looking, I invited a close friend to join us. In the end, her roommate and my friend got together, and now they have two kids, the youngest is old enough to run errands.
After the training, we went back to work, but we kept talking on the phone every day. Phone calls were expensive back then; I spent my entire month's salary on a 201 phone card. About two weeks after the training ended, she said on the phone that everyone at her workplace had gone home that night, leaving only an older woman and herself on duty, and she felt scared. I immediately understood her implication and said I'd come keep her company. Although it was only an hour's drive, due to the transportation conditions at the time, I had to change buses three times and walk for half an hour to get to her. It was already dark when I arrived. We ate together and then went to her dormitory. Once there
, I hugged her and we talked about everything under the sun. My little brother was still hard and uncomfortable. She told me she really believed in love at first sight; she liked me the moment she saw me. And I felt the same way. I kissed her, my hand on her chest—not big, just a little bigger than a handful. Her hand gently pressed against mine, and she breathed heavily. I whispered in her ear, "I want you." She nodded gently. To avoid rushing things, I slowly undressed her until we were both naked. She covered her eyes with her hand, making the moment seem sacred yet unbearable to look at. She was very wet. I parted her legs, revealing a pink, glistening opening. The entrance was small; my penis gently touched it, and she shuddered, letting out a soft moan. I asked her, "Is this your first time?" She nodded. I found the right spot and slowly tried to penetrate, but couldn't. She said it hurt. I said, "Everyone has a first time, just bear with it." She nodded. I increased the pressure, but she kept saying it hurt, and still couldn't penetrate. I was sweating profusely with anxiety. I double-checked that I was in the right position and whispered in her ear, "Just a little longer, just a little longer." With a hard thrust, I entered an unusually tight space. She cried out loudly, repeatedly saying it hurt. I tried to move a little, and she, already drenched in sweat, told me, "Next time, it really hurts." Seeing her pain, I pulled my penis out. There were traces of blood on my penis, and a small patch on the sheet too—not much, but bright red, not the dark red of menstrual blood. Although my penis was still as firm as a thread, I felt a surge of happiness.
We were cuddling in bed when we heard a knock at the door. I jumped in surprise. She asked, "Who is it?" A male voice answered from outside. "It's me!" she said. She quickly got dressed and told me to get up, "It's my dad." We got dressed, covered the sheet with the blanket, and opened the door. Her dad came in and started yelling. I quickly explained that I had just passed by and was chatting with someone in the same profession, just making friends. Her dad didn't believe me, saying that she was barely twenty and had brought a man back to her room—had she no shame? She kept crying. I also lost my temper and yelled at her dad, "I love her, and I want to be with her!" Her dad picked up a broom and hit me hard. I didn't flinch, letting him hit me, saying, "My feelings for Yan are genuine. In two years, I'll be old enough to register for marriage, and I will marry her." Yan grabbed the broom from me, saying, "You go first." Seeing her face covered in tears, and thinking her father wouldn't do anything to her, and that my presence might cause trouble, I went outside, hailed a taxi, and went home.
The next day, she called. I asked if she'd been beaten. She said no, but her older colleague had told her father she'd brought a man back to her dorm. Her father talked to her all night, saying it was too early to be dating. I asked her what she thought, and she said she hadn't thought much about it, just that she liked me and wanted to be with me. I said I felt the same way. Since things were out in the open, I'd come to her house this week and explain things to her father. She agreed.
A few days later, I remember clearly hesitating for a long time about whether to tell my family, because I was afraid of my father and worried about being beaten. So I called a close friend who was good at talking and asked him to come with me. Thinking it was my first visit, I couldn't go empty-handed, so I borrowed some money from my colleague, bought some fruit, two packs of cigarettes, and two bottles of wine, and went to her house.
When we got to her house, her father gave us a cold shoulder. He asked me what I meant, but wouldn't listen to my explanation. He just said a few words to me: "You're still young, you're not allowed to date. If you don't want me to throw your things out, take them back yourself."
My buddy and I slunk back home.

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A typical story of a post-80s generation, please listen to me slowly, part 4: True Love

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