The flow of the senior's pool of fat

That year, Aoi Sora had already been thoroughly exploited, and I had been thoroughly exploited by university. I was twenty-two, a confused age, but even more confusing was that I was unemployed right after graduation, my father fell ill, and my girlfriend ran off with someone else.
After graduation, my girlfriend and I searched for jobs repeatedly without success, so we went to work at a pet shop. A month ago, I discovered that she had bathed a pet on a customer's bed. After desperately trying to get her back, I tearfully and helplessly accepted the cruel reality.
At the pet shop, I suffered every day; the wages were low, the boss was mean, and my colleagues bullied me. Until one day, I met the woman who hated me to the core but later dragged me into working at a women's prison.
The reason she hated me so much was because I had taken advantage of her while she was drunk.
On the day the story begins, I was at work as usual. After cleaning up the messy pet shop, I walked out of the shop, bought a five-yuan pack of soft white dog food at the convenience store next door, and leaned wearily against the wall, lighting a cigarette. There was no hope in living, and no reason to die. My past ideals have all vanished; every day feels like a living death.
A row of people sat on the steps outside the shop—young and old, men and women. A fair-skinned little girl sat there, sweaty, her bra barely visible beneath her school uniform. Youth, so lovely.
I watched the little girl, a cigarette dangling from my lips. She blinked at me while talking on the phone, then looked towards the roadside. I took two more puffs. A BMW pulled up beside me. The little girl walked over. Youth, so lovely.
The little girl opened the BMW door and got in. The driver was a bald, middle-aged man wearing sunglasses. He hugged the little girl, his dark hand reaching for her.
I cursed inwardly, "Beast."
Damn it, I realized. This dazzling, decadent city isn't a paradise for a country boy.
"Zhang Fan, what are you doing? Slacking off again?" A gruff voice startled me from my reverie.
I turned my head and saw He Hua, the shop manager, whose godfather was the boss. We called her Sister Hua. She was glaring at me angrily. "
Boys recognize godfathers, but the godfather sleeps with the boy's mother; girls recognize godfathers, but the godfather sleeps with the girl. Being a godfather isn't for nothing; you either sleep with the mother or the daughter. Godfathers have always been busy; they're actually lecherous.
" I threw away my cigarette butt and asked obsequiously, "What can I do for you, Sister Hua?"
When you're under someone's roof, you have to bow your head.
"I'm working myself to death at the shop, while you're so idle, hiding here smoking. You have no ambition. No wonder your girlfriend ran off with a rich man..."
Looking at her thin, red lips, I had already cursed them a hundred times in my mind.
My girlfriend's infidelity was a devastating blow, and to make matters worse, every day at work I'd get well-meaning reminders from the manager: "You can't even do this right, no wonder your girlfriend ran off with someone else! You can't even bathe a dog properly, no wonder your girlfriend ran off with someone else! You can't even mop the floor properly, no wonder your girlfriend ran off with someone else… "
What does my girlfriend running off have to do with how well I mop the floor?
"A customer called and wants us to come and bathe their pet! Be quick!" she shoved the service order into my hand.
In this hopeless pet shop, I was doing hopeless work, earning hopeless pay. The boss was too cunning, the subordinates too naive; a raise was a fairy tale, overtime was the reality of the time.
Fine, I might as well quit. I gritted my teeth and thought for a long time… sigh, never mind, I'll wait until I find a new job.
With the service order in hand, I went to that luxurious neighborhood, passed through two layers of security guards' questioning, and finally found the customer's door.
The door opened, and I was stunned. A beautiful woman stood there, wearing an expensive silk nightgown, her hair flowing loose in a sexy way. She was tall, voluptuous, and exuded a mature yet alluring charm; a single glance could stir up wicked thoughts. A whiff of alcohol mixed with her natural fragrance wafted towards me.
I, in my dirty work clothes, holding a pet washing bowl and other supplies, stood before her, and a wave of inexplicable inferiority washed over me, an inferiority so profound it felt like I was nothing, a withered chrysanthemum blooming in the dust. I whispered to her that I was an employee of the pet shop.
Chapter Two: "I called three days ago, and you're only just now coming? What kind of service is this at your pet shop?" she complained, staring at me, her eyes alluring yet sharp and piercing.
I apologized softly, "I'm sorry, miss, we've been quite busy lately, and the shop is short-staffed."
"Change your shoes. The cat is in the kitchen; go find it yourself," she said, looking at my dirty shoes with disdain, her tone commanding.
I changed into slippers and went into her house. It was luxuriously decorated, high-end and elegant, with a giant wall-mounted TV, a pristine white wedding dress on the large sofa, some food on the tea table, and a half-empty bottle of liquor.
I went into the kitchen; there were several McDonald's takeout bags on the kitchenware. In a corner of that luxurious kitchen, a white Pomeranian was eating McDonald's chicken wings. In this world, even dogs eat better than me.
I waited until it finished eating, then picked it up. Looking at the two remaining chicken wings on its plate, I swallowed hard; it was dinnertime. I carried it into the bathroom and started giving the puppy a bath.
The woman was in the living room, arguing with her boyfriend on the phone: "Get your fox cat away from me, or I'll take it to the vet… You need to understand, this is my house, not yours… I'm sorry, I can't forgive you… You have plenty of beautiful women out there, you can marry whoever you want, just don't come looking for me again!"
I secretly glanced into the living room; she tossed her phone onto the sofa, picked up the liquor bottle, and took a few sips.
Another one troubled by love.
She suddenly turned to look at me, her sharp gaze piercing, which startled me so much that I quickly lowered my head to continue drying the puppy.
"That vet, that vet!" she called.
"What is it?" I felt uneasy. My girlfriend and I both studied psychology, a niche major where jobs are hard to find. One day, during a job interview, we met the owner of our pet shop, who said, "You studying psychology is like medicine, and we veterinarians are like medicine too—it's all pretty much the same." Our boss is so clever.
I washed my hands and came out to ask her what was wrong.
"Do you have a cigarette?"
"Yes."
"Give me one." Her voice sounded off.
I went over, took a soft white cigarette from my pocket, and handed it to her. She reached for it, and my heart skipped a beat. The cigarette fell to the ground. Her eyes were red and swollen, bloodshot from her usually bright eyes—she had clearly just been crying.
I quickly looked away, unable to bear looking at her.
The cigarette was on the ground, so I quickly took out another one for her. She took it: "Lighter."
I lit it for her.
On her hand was a long, deep scar, fresh, the blood still slightly damp. She had a similar scar on her other hand.
I told her I was done, meaning I wanted her to pay me.
She didn't speak, just kept looking at her phone, texting and smoking. I didn't dare sit down, afraid of dirtying the sofa.
Looking at her, beautiful and voluptuous, with round breasts, a deep cleavage, and snow-white skin, I couldn't help but swallow hard.
After almost finishing her cigarette, she threw the butt on the floor and said, "What kind of cigarette is so awful!"
I felt a surge of anger. If I had money, who would want to smoke a five-dollar cigarette? I said unhappily, "Either don't smoke it, or don't complain."
She glared at me, and I didn't dare meet her gaze, looking away.
"Is the cat washed?" she asked.
I said yes. I don't know why she called that Pomeranian a cat.
“I…I’ll go get the money for you.” She stood up and swayed as she walked towards the room, having already finished the bottle of liquor. Chapter
Three. Reaching the bathroom door, she glanced inside, went in, and then shouted at me, “Veterinarian! Come here!”
I rushed over: “What’s wrong?”
“You used my towel to bathe the cat!” she demanded aggressively.
“I was adjusting the water temperature with the showerhead and accidentally spilled some on the towel,” I told the truth.
“There’s hair on it! And you’re still trying to deny it!” she snapped.
Sure enough, there was dog hair on the towel. I didn’t know how it got there, but it really wasn’t me who put it there. I explained, “I didn’t use your towel to bathe the cat. We have our own towels, and we take them back to wash and disinfect them after each use…”
“Then why is there hair on the towel?” she interrupted loudly.
“I said we have our own towels! Are you trying to cause trouble!” I snapped back.
"You dare yell at me? Fine, I'll complain about you right now." She pushed me aside, left the bathroom, picked up her phone from the sofa, and called the clinic. "What kind of service did your veterinarian provide? He used my towel to wipe the cat's body, and he still won't admit it, and he even dared to yell at me..."
I heard our boss on the other end of the line apologizing profusely.
Oh no, I'm going to get yelled at again when I get back.
After finishing the call, she went into the room, took out her wallet, pulled out a wad of loose change, and threw it at me with disgust: "Take it!" In
her eyes, I wasn't even worth a dog. I watched the money scatter, one bill at a time, like my shattered, cheap self-esteem, scattered all over the floor. My anger flared up instantly. I walked over and slapped her hard across the face. The loud cracking sound made my hand ache from the impact.
She was stunned for a moment before she came to her senses and exploded: "You dare hit me! No one has ever hit me in my life! I'll kill you!"
Unexpectedly, she immediately attacked me, picking up a wine bottle from the tea table and smashing it over my shoulder.
I was startled, but didn't flinch. The bottle smashed heavily against my chest. Women can be terrifying when they're crazy. She lunged at me, slapping me back, but luckily I reacted quickly and grabbed her arm. She tried to break free, but I held her other hand tightly. We wrestled together, and I pushed her down onto the sofa, landing on top of her.
Her face flushed red. "Let me go!" she cried.
"Let you go my ass! You got dumped by a guy and got drunk, taking it out on me!" I yelled.
With both her hands held, she bit my palm.
I cried out in pain as a deep tooth mark appeared on my hand, blood seeping from it. The pain only fueled my rage.
"You bitch, you dare bite me!" I bit her arm back. She moved her arm away, but her mouth met mine as she turned. I was about to bite her hard when I realized we were kissing. My head spun, and I yelled, "You dare bite me? I'll make you pay!"
When people act impulsively, they become devils.
I was consumed by rage and completely lost my mind.
Chapter Four: She screamed and struggled violently, but no matter how strong she was, she was still a woman.
Knowing things were going badly, she tried to make a final stand, reaching out to push me away, shouting, "Get out! You filthy veterinarian! Let me go! I…"
After she finished, I got off her and saw that she had been crying for a long time, silent and lost in thought.
As soon as I turned my head back, she secretly picked up a wine bottle from the ground and smashed it over my head.
I collapsed to the ground, a sharp pain as if my head had been ripped off. She got off the sofa and sat on me, raising the bottle: "How dare you do this to me..."
She didn't bring it down, but I grabbed the bottle and choked her with my other hand. At that moment, I felt my life was truly threatened; she wanted me dead! Even animals have the instinct to fight and survive before being slaughtered.
I pushed her away, sat up, my head still spinning, but I didn't let go of her throat.
She leaned against the sofa, uttering an incomplete sentence: "You dare... kill me..."
Seeing her like this, I felt a surge of desire again.
I knocked the bottle from her hand and flipped her over, pinning her to the bed.
The doorbell suddenly rang.
Chapter Five The doorbell suddenly rang.
Both of us fell silent. I stopped moving, and she stopped making a fuss; her face had completely changed.
I was the rapist, so I was afraid. I didn't know what she was afraid of.
Then there was the sound of a lock opening.
"Quick, get dressed!" she said hastily.
"Oh, oh." I was stunned, my mind blank, and I pulled up my pants.
She quickly dressed and tidied her hair.
The door opened, and five or six aunties came in, looking at us.
Luckily, we were both dressed.
She said to the auntie who came in first, "Mom, what brings you here?"
"Did you and Wenhao have a fight? You were getting married, why are you breaking up? This is..." The auntie looked at me curiously. All the
aunties were looking at me.
"The vet from the pet shop, I asked him to come and bathe Wenhao's cat," she explained to the aunties.
Then she bent down, picked up the money scattered on the ground, and gave it to me, saying softly, "Let's go now."
My mind was still basically blank, my heart was pounding, I said "Oh," and put the money in my pocket.
Her mother led the aunties into the house, and the aunties praised the house for its grandeur and beauty; no one suspected us.
I went out the door to change my shoes and heard her mother exclaim, "What happened to your face? Did Wenhao hit you?"
"Tingting, he hit you?" All the aunties surrounded her.
I closed the door and slipped away like a thief…
Would she call the police? I kept thinking about that the whole way.
I rubbed the bump on my head, looking at the teeth marks on my hand. This woman wasn't the type to swallow her anger after being wronged.
The reason she told me to leave so quickly was probably out of desperation. She was a woman of status, and if she were raped by a pet shop worker, would she have any face left to live if her extended family found out? So, I was certain she wouldn't call the police.
I should thank those gossipy aunties; otherwise, she wouldn't have let me go so easily.
But I was also afraid she might retaliate against me later. Her family was so rich; it would be easy for her to get back at a poor guy like me.
Back at the pet shop, I was surprised to learn from Sister Hua that I had been fired by the boss because I had received another customer complaint—five complaints this month. Seeing her annoyingly incessant lips moving as she cursed me, I really wanted to slap her across the face and then fuck her mouth a thousand times.
I changed my clothes at the pet store and sat on the roadside steps, my ears ringing. The sounds of car engines and people talking made them feel like a mushy mess. I'm unemployed again; the last straw I grasped has vanished. I'm filled with fear of this city. Watching the migrant workers leaning against their burlap sacks, playing cards, I felt they were much happier than me. They had companions; they could weather the storms and dangers together, while I had to fight alone. No one knew my grievances; I could only swallow my tears.
I felt like crying. I didn't know what my future held, whether I could survive in this city; if I couldn't, what would I do?
My father was seriously ill, and my mother had difficulty walking and couldn't do heavy work. How could such a family leave me? But if I don't work in the city, how can I pay off the family's loans? How can I earn money for my father's medical treatment? If I stay at home, how can life get better?
I sat there for who knows how long, then stood up and spat at the pet shop. "Damn it, one day when I'm rich, I'll throw money in your face and kill you!"
Perhaps I was just trying to comfort myself.
Chapter Six: I arrived at the square across the street. There were couples whispering sweet nothings, laughing children, and elderly people strolling leisurely—a standard scene of city life, a standard scene of city life, yet it didn't belong to me. On both sides of the square were restaurants. I saw fat chefs in white coats tossing woks at the entrances, the flames reflecting on their sweat-drenched faces; tables were filled with diners, laughing and chatting, clinking glasses, happiness radiating from their faces. Yet, all of this still didn't belong to me. I was like a stone, thrown into this city, ignored and forgotten.
I bought a bowl of beef noodles and brought it back to my rented room.
The room was located in a slum in an urban village, in a dark alleyway. It was a single room with a bathroom, a small, broken window, freezing in winter and sweltering in summer, with no air conditioning. I turned on my secondhand laptop, which I'd bought in college, and started looking for jobs online while eating my noodles.
After submitting a few resumes, I clicked on the civil service exam website on the main page and downloaded a list of civil service positions. While browsing, I saw a position in the women's prison system that specifically recruited men. I laughed out loud. "Damn," I thought, "women's prisons recruiting male guards! Interestingly, the major required is psychology."
I chuckled and moved on to other positions.
After getting tired of that, I opened the news and read a few articles about cracking down on prostitution.
Watching these beautiful women—long legs, high breasts, black stockings, and fair skin—being arrested, I suddenly wondered, where would these women be sent? Prison, of course!
Then a thought struck me: women's prisons are full of women. With so many people, surely there are some beautiful women? For a country bumpkin like me—no background, no money, no connections, no ability—it's too difficult to get ahead. Those fairy tales of striving for wealth and marrying goddesses are unlikely to happen to me. Why not try my luck at a women's prison? It's a civil service job, and if I actually get in, with so many women, wouldn't I be ruling over them all?
A surge of joy filled me, and I excitedly applied for a position in the women's prison system. In my euphoria, I forgot about the existence of unspoken rules.
In the days that followed, I searched for a job while studying for the exam. Heaven didn't bestow great responsibilities upon me, but it still tormented my will, strained my body, and starved me. During this period, not only did I fail the written exam, but I also couldn't find a job. My
written exam score was fourth, and I was among the top three in the interviews. Damn it .
"Damn it, this is ridiculous! The third-place student only scored one point higher than me, just one point! I almost fainted.
But a few days later, things took a turn for the better. I received a notification that I hadn't made it to the interview stage, but the person who scored first was accused of cheating, and since I was fourth, my score was moved up to the next highest.
I was afraid I'd misheard, so I checked my computer again. It really was an interview! I was so happy I almost fainted.
On the day of the interview, I wore a suit and dress shoes, feeling incredibly nervous, without any sense of anticipation. I'd applied to at least twenty companies, but most of them rejected me for various reasons. I
left home at 2 PM.
When I arrived at the interview location, I was the last one. The guy in front of me burst into tears as soon as he came out of the interview office, probably because he'd failed the test, which made me anxious.
When it was my turn, I went into the office. There were five interviewers, all women, and a tall, beautiful woman in a black dress standing by the window, presumably their manager, looking out the window with her back to me."
Chapter Seven: The interviewers remained silent, staring intently at me until I felt uneasy. They then told me they were testing my composure under pressure. Little did I know they were testing me. They stared at me motionless and expressionless for almost ten minutes, without asking a single question. Besides greeting them, I didn't know what to say or how to introduce myself. My nervousness
was transformed into confusion, then into frustration, and finally into near-collapse. Just as I was about to give up and ask them what to do, one of the women spoke up: "Zhang Fan, your resume doesn't list any work experience. Haven't you ever worked?"
I blushed and said, "After graduation, I worked at a pet shop for a while."
As soon as I finished speaking, the tall woman who had been standing by the window turned around—it was the woman I had raped!
She stared at me with a cold, aloof gaze, tinged with resentment.
I don't know how to describe this absurd situation. That woman was actually the interviewer, and seemingly in a very important position. My mind went completely blank. Even after the interview ended and I came outside, I was still in shock. All
I can say about the interview process is, damn it. Aside from my psychology background, which was a slight advantage, I knew nothing about the prison they asked me about. And that woman—her gaze was so cold; she must still hate me. How could she possibly let me go in?
I walked back to that square, sat down, and smoked. My heart sank into an abyss, feeling like I'd fallen into the ocean.
This is the city sky. Due to space limitations, follow the WeChat public account [雄霸文学] and reply with the book title "花都狱警" to continue reading the exciting story! The white streetlights and colorful neon lights adorned the night sky with beauty and charm; this is the bustling metropolis, with towering buildings standing side by side, reflecting each other's brilliance. In the brightly lit windows of the building, heartwarming family scenes are unfolding: wives prepare a steaming, fragrant meal, waiting for their husbands to return; or husbands embrace their wives, nestled on the sofa watching television…
They were born in this city, raised in comfort, always with plenty of spare change, never having to work for their parents, gaining university admission with relatively low scores, falling in love in college, returning to this familiar city after graduation, enjoying affordable housing provided by their workplaces, marrying, having children, and their children continuing to enjoy this… The city offered me all sorts of power and preferential treatment...
I was born in a remote rural area. When I was a child, I was always hungry and cold. Every day, I had to walk dozens of miles of mountain roads to go to school. After returning home, I still had to help my parents with farm work. My family was very poor. My going to school meant that my older sister had to drop out of school. My family couldn't afford to send two children to school. I studied desperately and finally got into university. However, all I knew at university was how to study. My hometown didn't have a children's palace, art classes, or summer camps. I worked as a tutor and did odd jobs at university. Finally, a girl took a liking to me, a poor student from the countryside. After graduating from university, she left me.
After graduation, I faced a choice: return to my impoverished hometown or stay in the city to work. I worked diligently at a pet shop, toiling tirelessly every day, afraid to fall ill—a single illness would wipe out my savings. I received no benefits in this city because I lacked local residency; my name was simply "migrant worker."
At this moment, while you whisper sweet nothings to your wife in a high-rise building, I, a fellow college graduate, suffer hunger and cold in the train station square. And all of this is because you were born in the city, and I was born in the countryside.
The greatest inequality in life—due to space limitations, follow the WeChat public account [雄霸文学] and reply with the book title "花都狱警" to continue reading the exciting story!—is the inequality of birth.
With a cold heart and a weary body, I returned to my rented room, turned on my computer, and continued searching for work. Even if the whole world abandoned me, even though the world had never needed me, I couldn't abandon myself.
While browsing the web, my phone rang—an unfamiliar number.
After answering, a cold woman asked, "Is this Zhang Fan?"
"Yes, who are you?"
"From the women's prison, you've been accepted!"
Before I could react, she hung up.

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