Southbound overnight train journey

Returning home is usually an exciting event for those who have been away from home for a long time.

For me, however, it's a nightmare that happens twice a year.

After graduating from junior high school, I went north to study. My not-so-wealthy father gritted his teeth and made sure I attended the private H Middle School, a school known as a prestigious institution. I can only blame myself for not being good enough.

The southbound overnight train crawled along the fixed tracks. People pushed and shoved...

Carrying a heavy, old leather suitcase full of books, I struggled to squeeze into the carriage. The suitcase contained my favorite extracurricular reading materials, the New Trendy Bookstore, and Tom Jones records. My father's monthly allowance, after paying for my boarding school fees, was mostly spent on extracurricular books. Every year, I lug heavy books back and forth, and my suitcase is starting to feel a bit loose. Thinking of the precious books inside, I unconsciously tightened my grip.

On the roof, the old fan whirred weakly, filling the compartment with a nauseating, sour stench—a mixture of sweat, body odor, and the putrid smell of leftovers. I shifted my weight on the luggage rack, finally managing to stand firmly on my feet and look around.

Aside from a young woman who looked like a college student, clutching an "accounting" book and picking her nose with her right hand, there weren't many other creatures awake in this cradle of the night. The dim light and the stale air were enough to make anyone drowsy.

A middle-aged man three steps away from me leaned back in his seat, swaying from side to side with the train's lurching, feigning sleep. To my left, a man dressed as "Woki-shang" was fast asleep, barefoot. Next to him, a stylish young woman snored, drooling, her head tilted to one side as she leaned against his shoulder. To my right, two girls lay cross-legged in what appeared to be their mother's arms, fast asleep. To my right, a young girl stared intently at a Crown magazine. To my right, a young couple, seemingly a pair, draped their coats over their knees and slept.

As the train traveled south, passengers occasionally got on and off, the air in the carriage became much fresher, but my legs gradually grew numb. I shifted my feet, but it still didn't work. I spotted an empty seat back on the right and moved over. Unexpectedly, the girl reading the Crown magazine seemed to sense my intention and raised her right elbow, resting it on the seat back defensively.

"Damn it!" I cursed under my breath.

Moving to the door and leaning against the door hinge, my legs immediately felt lighter. My eyes remained fixed on my luggage.

A cool night breeze blew in through the crack in the door, making me much more awake. At each stop, the train would empty out a few people, but my gaze was always fixed on my suitcase on the rack.

Suddenly, I noticed the two girls, seemingly a couple, sleeping peacefully under my suitcase. Her squinting, sleepy expression looked rather strange. Then I noticed the coat draped over her knees was shifting slightly. Being in the throes of puberty, I seemed to understand.

With a trembling heart, I gazed at her ever-changing, suppressed expressions, and I was captivated.

Only then did I realize she had long, jet-black hair, delicate eyebrows and long eyelashes above her slightly narrowed eyes, and a straight nose and cherry-red lips on her beautiful face. The V-neck of her white shirt revealed a glimpse of her snow-white chest.

My emotions rose and fell with her ever-changing expressions; a furrowed brow made me flutter, a twitch of her lips made me tremble. I fantasized that I was the one "acting" with her.

A shiver ran through me, my face flushed, and gazing at her heaving chest made me swallow hard to moisten my dry throat.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes and noticed me staring at her. She smiled shyly at me, pushed away her man's hand (I guessed), and started chatting with him.

Being inexperienced, I turned away even more awkwardly, avoiding her gaze, and stood there with my right hand behind my back, facing outwards, eyes closed. My mind was still replaying that unforgettable encounter. Before my closed eyes, her ever-changing, heart-pounding expressions replayed.

The train continued its crawling forward.

"Squeak... squeak... squeak..." The train slowly came to a stop. I craned my neck to

look around; we had just arrived in Hsinchu.

People were getting off... about five or six people. "Zhiliang! Tell your sister to... send the things over." As I heard the warbling of birds, I suddenly felt a warm, damp sensation on my right hand, which was resting on the door hinge. I turned around. Good heavens! It was that girl! She was leaning against the door hinge, calling out to a man getting off the bus, and her black trousers had inadvertently pressed her crotch against the back of my right hand. She quickly moved away, gave me a shy smile, and went back to her seat. My heart, which had just calmed down, began to flutter again. Feeling the lingering warmth on the back of my right hand, and thinking of that shy, blooming smile, my body trembled slightly. "Clang..." The train crawled south again in the unsettling night. Turning back, the man beside her had already gotten off. A woman of about forty or fifty had taken her seat. "Was she doing it on purpose? Or not?" I wondered to myself, uncertainly. Calming my racing heart, I took a deep breath of the cool night air and mustered my courage to enter the carriage. She seemed a little surprised that I had entered, but she didn't shy away from my gaze. I pretended to move her suitcase on the overhead luggage rack, then stood legitimately in front of her seat. I stared at her... From her neckline, I could see the top edge of her milky-white bra. A small pink lace flower adorned the front of her milky-white bra, visible through the buttons of her slightly wrinkled shirt. The loose shirt couldn't conceal the curves of her high, full breasts. A red silk necklace adorned her slender, white neck (was it a lucky charm? Or...?). Her long, flowing hair cascaded over her left shoulder, and a delicate crimson beaded necklace dangled from her right ear, swaying gently against her alluring sideburns. Up close, her skin was even more flawless—smooth, white, and flawless. Her slender fingers were painted with pink nail polish, long and elegant. Her right index finger tapped lightly on her right knee. I could imagine her contemplating how to respond to the silent assault of my gaze. As if making a decision, she stopped tapping, picked up the teacup beside her with her right hand, took a sip of water, and reclined in her chair, her bright black eyes naturally looking at me. "She's coming back! She's retaliating!" I thought to myself. I stared at her without backing down. Her gaze, too, continued to withstand my onslaught without yielding. I don't know how long this lasted, but I felt her gaze shift from defensiveness, curiosity, and wonder to a deep connection with mine. It was a strange and unprecedented feeling. For a moment, an emotion seemed to permeate the meeting of our gazes. "Wopashan," sitting next to her, seemed to sense our strange looks and stared at us oddly. We completely ignored the presence of others, our gazes intertwined in the shimmering space of our eyes. "Squeak...squeak...squeak..." The train slowly came to a stop again. The obstructive "Wopashan" got off. I sat down next to her. A faint fragrance of jasmine wafted towards me from the moving train. "You've been standing for a long time! Are you on winter break?" Surprisingly, she asked with a smile first. "On break! I'm used to standing!" I replied awkwardly, looking at her pearly white teeth. I think she guessed my identity from my somewhat mismatched clothes. "Where are you going?" I asked. "...Tainan, something's come up at my parents' house... And you?" she thought for a moment before answering. "I live in Chiayi," I replied, but then I realized she was a married woman. She definitely wasn't twenty-five.

"You got married quite early!" I asked tentatively.

"Someone arranged the marriage! I have many younger siblings, so I had no choice!" She looked somewhat lost and helpless when talking about marriage.

"What's your surname? Didn't your husband get off with you?" I asked knowingly.

She said her name was Li Meijun, and knowing I was asking, she added, "He got off first! He has to go to the shop tomorrow morning, so he can't come."

"This is the first time I've gone out alone since I got married. I really miss the carefree life of my youth!" she said wistfully.

"Why don't you take advantage of this trip back to your parents' home and have some fun?" I encouraged her.

"No! I'm not familiar with the area, and I really have nowhere to go by myself," she replied.

"Have you been to Sun Moon Lake? The scenery is very beautiful," I suggested.

"I'm not familiar with this place," she replied hesitantly.

"Get off at Taichung, it's very close!" I explained.

"I can be your guide," I pressed on.

"..." She hesitated.

"Give me your ticket, we'll get off at Taichung together," I said, holding out my right hand for her ticket.

"...This...isn't that inappropriate..." While she hesitated, I snatched the ticket from her hand.

"No..." She tried to grab her ticket back.

"Okay! Don't hesitate! We're almost at Taichung!" I quickly pushed the situation to the edge of a cliff.

She blushed and remained silent.

"Squeak...squeak...squeak..." The train slowly came to a stop; we had arrived at Taichung Station.

"We're at Taichung! Let's go!" I got up, picked up my suitcase, and started walking down.

Whether it was because the ticket was in my hand or because she was hesitantly contemplating this unprecedented adventure, she picked up her light carry-on luggage, head down, and followed me off the train with a trembling expression.

The cool night breeze of Taichung invigorated me.

Once outside the station, I looked back at her. Her helpless, shy, and bewildered expression was a world apart from the bold, tender, and confident look in her eyes on the train. I suddenly felt a surge of pride and a sense of greatness at being relied upon. I had always relied on my family since childhood.

I turned back, took her soft hand, and said, bowing my head, "Let's find a hotel first and leave at dawn!"

The cool night breeze made her unconsciously embrace me.

I took the doorman's key from the sleepy-eyed clerk and led her upstairs.

We opened the door and went inside. She hesitated outside for a minute before following me in with her head down.

It was a comfortable suite, with a snow-white double bed covered in snow-white sheets and blankets. On the coffee table were a thermos and two glasses wrapped in white paper. Two sofa chairs sat side-by-side against the wall where the curtains were drawn. Her slightly uneasy expression could be seen in the large mirror on the dressing table.

I placed my suitcase on the coffee table, closed the door, turned on the bathroom light, and turned to her, saying, "Why don't you take a shower first?"

The atmosphere was a little awkward. She replied, "What about you?"

"You don't want to shower with me, do you?" I said.

She seemed a little embarrassed, and with a shy laugh, slipped into the bathroom.

I turned off the room lights, turned on the air conditioning, the TV, and the bedside lamp, making the room much softer.

Listening to the rushing water in the bathroom, I lay on the bed and fiddled with

the TV remote. "Mmm...ah..." came the moaning sounds from an adult film.

Looking at the image of the fit, blonde woman moaning in the mirror, and then thinking about her in the bathroom, my lower body involuntarily trembled, and I gradually became erect.

Watching, watching, unable to suppress my racing heart, I grabbed my change of clothes and went to the bathroom door.

"May I come in?" I asked, gently knocking on the door.

"Sure!" came the reply from inside.

As soon as the door opened, she appeared, already dressed in a white shirt, grinning mischievously.

"You naughty girl!" I thought to myself, but said aloud, "You tricked me!" I

quickly washed myself and changed into clean underwear. I kept an eye on the door, afraid she might change her mind and leave.

I peeked through the crack in the door. I saw her sitting on the bed, knees bent, covered by the sheet, her eyes glued to the television. She looked completely absorbed. Sometimes she raised her eyebrows, sometimes she slightly parted her lips.

I suddenly flung open the bathroom door, and she shyly hid under the covers.

I turned off the television, turned on the bedside music, and pulled back the sheet to get in.

She turned over, burying her pink cheeks in the pillow. Was it shyness? Was it fear?

Seeing her delicate, shy demeanor, like a newlywed bride, reminded me of Wanzhen, my childhood sweetheart and neighbor from my hometown. That was a virginal flutter I can never forget...

Wanzhen was my childhood playmate; she had been a part of my life since I was old enough to remember.

From elementary school onwards, we played together in our shared courtyard, walking hand-in-hand to school. The adults in that secluded, rustic countryside loved to pair us up, teasing us to satisfy their own regrets about marriages they couldn't arrange. We, though only vaguely understanding, were both happy with the adults' approval.

Her father worked for a central government agency; in that rustic countryside, we had a neighbor who was a high-ranking official in Taipei. Every time I heard the muffled coughing from the intercom, I knew Wan-zhen's father had come home.

Things changed when I was in sixth grade: her family built a big house!

The courtyard was divided in two, and the lush bamboo fences were replaced by cold brick walls. Wan-zhen was kept like a canary in the high attic. In the isolated courtyard, I could only hear Wan-zhen's joyful singing coming from the second floor of her house; I could no longer see her rosy cheeks as she sang. After her parents sent her to our neighbor Mr. Chen's house to learn piano, our opportunities to catch loaches together in the mud became even fewer.

In junior high, the separation of boys and girls into classes and the queuing system for dismissal further distanced us. I had never felt so lonely before. Occasionally, I would bump into her at the alley entrance; she would always smile shyly at me, head down, as she passed by. She wore a floral dress and had grown into a graceful young woman. A deep sense of loneliness and the nascent feelings of understanding the difference between boys and girls made me unable to concentrate on my studies. I indulged in the world of Zhuge Qingyun, Wolong Sheng, Qiong Yao… In that fantastical world, I could fulfill dreams I couldn't achieve in reality. This was the root cause of why I couldn't get into the "good high school" everyone talked about.

It was a summer vacation in early eighth grade! I experienced a virginal flutter that I'll never forget…

Mr. Chen's son, Yuanzhi (a classmate and neighbor from my junior high school, though in a different class), invited me to his house to play bridge. Yuanzhi, under his father's tutelage, was a skilled pianist; he would occasionally substitute for his father in giving lessons. If sitting next to Wanzhen and instructing her on piano fingering was a right, then I always watched that right with longing! The loss of that right was the main reason I practiced various instruments diligently throughout high school!

Passing through the front of Yuanzhi's family's general store, I saw Yuanzhi, his older brother Hongzhi, and… at the threshold of the back hall. Wanzhen (I simply couldn't believe I'd run into her under these circumstances)

"Hey! What's Shen Mufan been up to lately? He hasn't even invited me fishing!" Yuanzhi yelled as soon as I walked in. He knew my brother-in-law kept a pond full of tilapia, and after being invited once, he became interested.

"Hello, Hongzhi!" I greeted Hongzhi, who was on vacation back from studying in Taichung.

"Wanzhen! Hello!" That was a name I hadn't called in a long time. I even felt my accent was a bit rusty; it had been two years since I last called her that name!

"Hello!" Wanzhen responded with a generous yet slightly awkward smile.

Looking at her familiar yet dazzling smile, like a flower just beginning to bloom, reminded me of the blooming osmanthus tree on the wall above my house. As a child, I often played under its shade, but now I couldn't recall its true appearance.

Since starting junior high, I had never seen her so closely as I had today. She wore a snow-white short-sleeved top, revealing her slender, lotus-root-like arms. Her sparse bangs framed her rosy cheeks, and a pair of bright red earrings peeked out from behind her ears. Looking at her familiar, delicate hands, the once plump and childish expression had been replaced by a beautiful appearance. She exuded the air of a well-bred young lady, making me sigh at the wonder of time.

During the game, I couldn't muster the courage to look her directly in the eye. Occasionally, I would feign conversation with Yuanzhi, quickly and nervously glancing at her. She seemed to sense this awkwardness, always lowering her head to pretend to look at her cards whenever I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye.

"Hongzhi! Yuanzhi! Come help with the cards!" Just as we finished our third hand of cards, I heard Aunt Chen's voice from the front hall.

"Come right now!" The Chen brothers instructed us, and we went to the front hall together.

With only Wanzhen and me left at the card table, this habit made me even more uncomfortable. Just as I was about to grab the deck of cards on the table to shuffle and ease the strange, awkward atmosphere, unexpectedly, she also reached out her left hand to take the cards. Two hands that hadn't touched in years met again in this bizarre situation. Like the collision of yin and yang poles with tens of thousands of volts, a lightning bolt struck before our eyes. That lightning numbed my fingertips, and simultaneously surged upwards, electrifying my chest. We both quickly pulled our arms back. Blood rushed to my head, and my heart pounded rapidly, its throbbing clearly audible. Stealing a glance at her, I saw her face flushed, head bowed, silent.

It was a hot early summer day, but for my heart, it was early spring.

"Hey! What are you thinking about?" A slender hand shook me out of my reverie, followed by Mei Jun's sweet, inquiring voice.

"Sorry! Nothing!" I replied guiltily. I couldn't very well tell her now that I was reminiscing about another girl.

I reached out my right arm to embrace her, but she turned her back again. My hands, through her white shirt, reached for her breasts. I discovered she wasn't wearing a bra, and what I grasped was a soft, warm flesh.

To be honest, this was the first time in my life I had ever held a stranger's breasts. My understanding of female anatomy came entirely from adult books and a few books on sexology; at school, my classmates always teased me for being a "theorist"—all talk and no action. This time, it was to avenge the humiliation of the "theoretical faction" that I dared to be so bold.

My body trembled slightly as I caressed her, muttering to myself, "Phew! So cold!"

As I propped myself up with my left hand to kiss her ear, she considerately leaned back. My lower body pressed tightly against her full hips, sending shivers down my spine!

Inhaling her delicate fragrance, I kissed her earlobe. I saw her tightly closed eyes tremble slightly, her breathing becoming increasingly rapid.

I moved my right hand to her right shoulder and removed the right shoulder strap of her shirt. In the soft light, I could see her high, firm breasts with pink areolas and perfectly set pink nipples. My right hand clumsily grasped them again, the sensation from before now clearly tangible.

She turned around, pulling down the left strap of her shirt to reveal a pair of round, high breasts. I was mesmerized; I never imagined a woman's breasts could be so alluring! The deep cleavage gave me an urge to bury my face in them.

I removed my upper garment and pounced on her. My upper body kneaded her breasts, my hands hooking behind her armpits as I knelt on top of her. I kissed her lips and neck roughly, inhaling her intoxicating scent that fueled my passion.

"Gently!" she whimpered, slipping her hands inside my underwear.

"Hoo!" I couldn't help but exhale deeply as she kneaded my penis. While

arching my knees to make it easier for her, I buried my face in the depths of her chest, sucking on her soft, full breasts. Occasionally, I accidentally brushed my front teeth against her areola, unexpectedly causing her to open her cherry lips and let out a few soft moans. This discovery emboldened me to occasionally kiss her nipples with my lips.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, she pulled down my underwear, pressing my penis between her thighs. A few squeezes made me tear off her skirt, turn around, and bury my head between her legs.

A woman's thighs are truly softer and more comfortable than a feather pillow; I think sleeping with a woman's thighs in my arms must be the greatest pleasure in life. As I sucked on her long, soft thighs, I caught a whiff of a different scent. It was a unique fragrance emanating from her white cotton panties. I noticed that her panties were slightly damp between her thighs, and a thin slit was visible between her bulging mounds.

I ran my index finger up and down the slit, feeling the warmth and moisture of the volcano about to erupt.

"Ah! Ah... Ah..." Mei Jun twisted her legs from side to side, her hands tightly gripping my lower body, and she let out seductive moans.

Hearing her alluring whimpers, I couldn't help but pull down her snow-white panties.

Sparse, curly, dark pubic hair covered the mound, and the two openings of her vulva trembled slightly with her movements. Gently parting a patch of pinkish-red opening, a deep, secluded path led directly inside. Her fingers teasing the openings caused her to sit up, pulling me to lie beside her.

She bent her right leg, trapping me between her thighs, while her left leg opened and lifted, her left hand guiding my penis to her genitals, rubbing it gently.

My sensitive penis, never having explored before, couldn't withstand this soft, warm rubbing; a tingling sensation rose from the base of my perineum. I felt a sense of humiliation, quickly pressing my right hand against the throbbing sensation in her perineum, taking a deep breath, and climbing on top of her.

He rubbed her firm breasts with both hands and sucked her nipples in turn. I spread her legs with my knees, and gently tapped her private parts left and right, until she had to beg me.

"Brother Fan, come in quickly, come here, come quickly," she begged, panting.

I deliberately pressed it gently for a while until the glans felt extremely wet. I knew she had been tortured enough and her private parts were overflowing.

"Come in...oh..." As she begged again, I accidentally inserted it into her private parts, causing her to scream.

I intuitively felt her private parts contracting violently. But after a while of thrusting, while she was trembling slightly, I shivered and hurriedly pushed forward, and a hot spring gushes out.

"Ah... gently... a little... ah... no..." Perhaps it was too deep; she tried to push me away.

It was my first time experiencing intercourse and orgasm, and I gripped her shoulders, pressing her down towards my lower body.

It was so beautiful! The post-coital bliss made my whole body relax. I lay weakly on her soft body.

She obediently picked up the sheet and wiped my sweat from my back before lying on her side, my penis still inside her.

I smiled at her, and she looked back at me, a little shy, and said, "I never want to make love with you again, you teased me..."

I leaned closer and said, "Who told you to be so wanton at the beginning? This is my first time!"

She blushed and said, "Really!"

Before I could reply, her lips were on mine, our tongues exploring each other.

You've had sweet rice cakes before! So that's what it feels like to suck on a woman's lips.

After a while, I suddenly felt my lower body, immersed in her private parts, swell up again, and she seemed to feel it too.

"Ah...you...you again..." she murmured, lovingly and joyfully rubbing against me once more.

This time, she sat on top of me, gently swaying her hips, as if cherishing the moment, afraid it would end too quickly like the first time.

Even as she writhed, she would occasionally bend down to give me a loving kiss. Her writhing was skillful. The deep, subtle movements caused me less stimulation, but brought her constant pleasure, as evidenced by the twitching expressions on her face.

She gasped for breath like a carp starving, her chest heaving, her breasts swaying and bobbing with her movements.

I propped my head up with two pillows, admiring her expressions. Her smooth abdomen creased a deep wrinkle with each writhing motion. Her long, black hair flew wildly with every turn of her head. I watched as my penis moved in and out of her, sometimes fully inserted, sometimes half-exited. It was then that I noticed a pink pearl embedded slightly above her vulva. I rubbed her nipple with my fingers in rhythm with her writhing movements.

"Ah... um..." Her movements became faster and faster, and the pressure of her rubbing increased. Naturally, the pressure on my fingers, which were rubbing against her nipple, also increased.

After a while, she called out to me incoherently, "Ah!... It's coming... Faster... Faster... Hold... Hold me..." As she called out, she leaned forward to increase the pressure.

I didn't respond to her, and instead thrust my hips upwards unintentionally from time to time. After about ten times, she grabbed my upper body and hugged me tightly, shouting frantically, "I... I'm going to die... I'm going to die..."

Her last few rubbing strokes were really hard, making my pubic bone ache. After a loud cry, she collapsed and said, "I'm so dizzy, I want to lie down."

I carried her to bed and looked at her pale, sweaty body; she was truly exhausted! But what about it, nestled between her thighs?

"Do you still want more?" I thought she was probably tired and wanted to rest.

"It's your turn!" Her slightly panting cherry lips gave an unexpected answer.

I lifted her to the edge of the bed, placed her legs on my arms, and stood at the edge, ready to launch my second wave of attack with the deepest penetration and widest contact.

Working half-standing, half-crouching saved me a lot of energy. Each thrust created waves on her chest and elicited her moans of pleasure. The sound of my penis slapping against her vulva mingled with the rhythmic thud of a piston. It was a masterpiece of triple impact.

"Ouch...ouch..." she whimpered, as I rubbed and kneaded her, sending shivers down her spine. She had about two orgasms. This was evident in the strength of her grip on my arms and the frequency of her vaginal contractions.

In the throes of passion, a gush of fluid shot into her uterus, and I forcefully spread her legs, leaning forward and pressing myself against her chest.

"Ah!...ah!...ah!..." she cried out several times in rhythm with my ejaculation.

The volcano of erupting magma wouldn't calm down overnight.

When she greedily told me she wanted to see me again, that she wanted me to be her godbrother forever, I hesitated!

The passion of a young woman in early spring is fiery and overflowing. Recalling her greedy behavior last night, I feared I would suffocate in that torrent that had overwhelmed me.

"No! All good things must come to an end. You have a family, and I have studies to complete. Let us each silently cherish these memories."

After hearing my words, she cried! As I

saw her off on the train, she still looked at me on the platform with sorrowful tears in her eyes. I, in turn, looked at the woman I had seen as prey when I arrived, and who I had almost become her prey on my departure.

Postscript: This article is a compilation of a friend's experiences, reflecting both the alienation that civilized life creates for human relationships and the clash between traditional etiquette and modern values, as well as the potentially destructive power of repressed passion once unleashed.

The article "Business Trip" is visually vibrant, with colorful descriptions of situations and clothing, reflecting Eastman's pervasive sense of "color." This article, however, uses a black-and-white approach to depict the world of "emotion." Both are evocative, aligning with the theme of "erotic literature" in this section. I hope you enjoy these two different writing styles.

The first two pieces are written in the male first-person perspective, which creates a more immersive and realistic experience. However, many objective descriptions lack diversity and are supplemented by recollections and retellings to compensate for the monotony and subjectivity of the first-person narrative.

My next piece will be written from a female perspective, with Ancestral's "Lady Chatterley's Lover" as a prime example. I dare not compare myself to literary giants here, but only hope to achieve a breakthrough in my own writing style. Of course, referring to the works of female writers will help me to understand and perceive the feelings of women. On May 8th, 1983

, the night the first draft of "Journey on the Southbound Night Train" was completed , I returned home. Returning home should have been an exciting event for someone who had been away from home for a long time. For me, however, it was a nightmare twice a year. After graduating from junior high school, I went north to study. My not-so-wealthy father gritted his teeth and made sure I attended the private H Middle School, a school known as a prestigious institution. I can only blame myself for not being ambitious enough. The southbound express night train crawled along the fixed tracks. A wall of people pushed and shoved... Carrying a heavy, old leather suitcase filled with books, I squeezed into the carriage. It contained my favorite extracurricular reading materials from the Xinchao Wenku series and Tom Jones records. My father's monthly allowance, after paying for my boarding school fees, was mostly spent on books. Carrying that heavy suitcase back and forth every year, it was starting to feel loose. Thinking of the precious books inside, I unconsciously tightened my grip. On the roof, an old electric fan whirred weakly, but the carriage was filled with a nauseating, sour smell—a mixture of sweat, body odor, and the stench of rotting leftovers. I moved to a spot on the luggage rack to unload the load from my shoulders. Once I steadied myself, I finally had a chance to look around. Aside from a young woman who looked like a college student, clutching an "accounting" book and picking her nose with her right hand, there weren't many awake creatures in this cradle of the night. The dim light and the stale air were enough to make anyone drowsy. A middle-aged man about three steps away leaned against the back of his seat, swaying from side to side with the train's lurching, feigning sleep. To my left, a man named "Woki-shang" was fast asleep, barefoot. Next to him, a stylishly dressed young woman snored, drooling, and leaned against his shoulder, her head tilted to one side. To my right, two girls lay cross-legged in what appeared to be their mother's arms, sleeping peacefully. In the rear right seat, a young girl was intently staring at a Crown magazine in front of her. In the front right seat, a young couple, seemingly a pair, were asleep with their coats draped over their knees. As the train traveled south, passengers occasionally got on and off, and the air in the carriage became much fresher, but my legs gradually became numb. I tried shifting my feet, but it didn't work. I spotted an empty seat back in the rear right seat and moved over. Unexpectedly, the girl reading the Crown magazine seemed to sense my intention and raised her right elbow, placing it defensively on the seat back. "Damn it!" I cursed under my breath. I moved to the door, leaning against the door hinge, and my legs immediately felt lighter. My eyes remained fixed on my luggage. A cool night breeze blew in through the cracks in the train door, making me much more awake. At each stop, the train would empty out a few people, and my gaze would always be fixed on my suitcase on the rack. Suddenly, I noticed the two girls, seemingly a couple, sleeping peacefully in each other's arms under my suitcase. Her half-closed, drowsy face had a strange look about it. And then I noticed the coat draped over her knees, which was shifting slightly. Being in the throes of puberty, I seemed to understand. With a trembling heart, watching her shifting, suppressed expression, I was mesmerized. Only then did I notice her long, jet-black hair, her slightly narrowed eyes framed by delicate eyebrows and long eyelashes, and her beautiful face adorned with a straight nose and cherry-red lips. The V-neck of her white shirt subtly revealed half of her snow-white chest. My emotions rose and fell with her ever-changing expressions; a furrowed brow made my heart flutter, a twitch of her lips made me tremble. I fantasized that I was the one "making love" with her. A shiver ran through me, my face flushed, and gazing at her heaving chest made me swallow hard to moisten my dry throat.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes and noticed me staring at her. She smiled shyly at me, pushed away her man's hand (I guessed), and started chatting with him.

Being inexperienced, I turned away even more awkwardly, avoiding her gaze, and stood there with my right hand behind my back, facing outwards, eyes closed. My mind was still replaying that unforgettable encounter. Before my closed eyes, her ever-changing, heart-stopping expressions replayed.

The train continued its crawling forward.

"Squeak... squeak... squeak..." The train slowly came to a stop.

I craned my neck to look; we had only just arrived in Hsinchu.

People got off... about five or six people!

"Zhiliang! Tell your sister to...send the things over." As I heard the warbling of birds, I suddenly felt a warm, damp sensation on my right hand, which was resting on the door hinge.

I turned around. Good heavens! It was that girl!

She was leaning against the door hinge, calling out to a man getting off the train, and her shorts, clad in black trousers, had inadvertently pressed against the back of my right hand, which was resting on the door hinge.

She quickly moved away, gave me a shy smile, and went back to her seat.

My heart, which had just calmed down, began to flutter again. Feeling the lingering warmth on the back of my right hand, and thinking of that shy, blooming smile, my body trembled slightly.

"Clang..." The train began to crawl south again in this thrilling night.

Turning around, I saw that the man next to her had already gotten off the train. A woman in her forties or fifties had taken her seat.

"Was she doing it on purpose? Or not?" I wondered to myself, uncertainly.

Calming my racing heart, I took a deep breath of the cool night air and mustered my courage to enter the carriage.

She seemed a little surprised that I had come in, but she didn't shy away from my gaze.

I pretended to move her suitcase on the overhead luggage rack, then stood legitimately in front of her seat.

I stared at her…

From her neckline, I could see the top edge of her off-white bra. Through the slightly wrinkled buttons of her shirt, I could see a small pink lace flower embroidered on the front of the bra. The loose shirt couldn't conceal the curves of her high, full breasts. A red silk necklace adorned her slender, white neck (was it a lucky charm? Or...?). Her long, flowing hair cascaded over her left shoulder, and a small, delicate crimson beaded necklace dangled

from her right ear, swaying gently against her alluring sideburns. Up close, her skin was even more exquisite, flawless—smooth, white, and flawless. Her slender fingers were painted with pink nail polish, long and elegant. Her right index finger tapped lightly on her right knee. I could imagine her contemplating how to respond to my silent, intense gaze.

As if making a decision, she stopped tapping, reached out her right hand to pick up the teacup beside her, took a sip, and reclined in her chair, her bright black eyes naturally meeting mine.

"Here it comes! A counterattack!" I thought to myself.

I stared at her without backing down.

Her gaze, too, continued to withstand my onslaught without yielding.

I don't know how long this lasted, but I felt her eyes shift from defensiveness, curiosity, and wonder to a deep connection with me. It was a strange and unprecedented feeling.

For a moment, an emotion seemed to permeate the meeting of our gazes.

"Wopashan," sitting next to her, seemed to sense our strange looks and stared at us oddly.

We completely ignored the presence of others, our eyes locked in a space where spring waves rippled.

"Squeak... squeak... squeak..." The train slowly came to a stop again.

The obstructive "Wopashan" got off. I took the opportunity to sit down next to her.

A delicate jasmine scent wafted towards me from the slowly moving train.

"You've been standing for a long time! Are you on winter break?" she asked with a surprised smile.

"Yes, I'm on break! I'm used to standing!" I replied awkwardly, glancing at her pearly white teeth. I think she guessed my identity from my somewhat mismatched attire.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"...Tainan, something's come up at my parents' house... And you?" she answered after a moment's thought.

"I live in Chiayi," I replied, but then I realized she was a married woman. She looked no older than twenty-five.

"You got married quite early!" I asked tentatively.

"Someone arranged the marriage! I have many younger siblings, so I had no choice!" A hint of bewilderment and helplessness flickered across her face when she spoke of marriage.

"What's your surname? Didn't your husband get off with you?" I asked, knowing the answer

already. She said her name was Li Meijun, and knowing I was being

deliberately obtuse, she added, "He got off first! He has to go to the shop tomorrow morning, so he can't come." "This is the first time I've gone out alone since I got married. I really miss the carefree life of my youth!" she said wistfully.

"Why don't you take advantage of this trip back to your parents' home and have a good time?" I encouraged her.

"No! I'm not familiar with the area, and I really have nowhere to go by myself," she replied.

"Have you been to Sun Moon Lake? The scenery is very nice," I suggested.

"I'm not familiar with the area either," she replied hesitantly.

"Get off at Taichung, it's very close!" I explained.

"I can be your guide," I pressed further.

"..." She looked hesitant.

"Give me your ticket, we'll get off together in Taichung," I said, extending my right hand to ask for it.

"...This...isn't that inappropriate..." While she hesitated, I snatched the ticket from her hand.

"No..." she tried to grab it back.

"Okay! Don't hesitate! We're almost at Taichung!" I quickly pushed the situation to the edge of a cliff.

She blushed and remained silent.

"Squeak...squeak...squeak..." The train slowly came to a stop; we had arrived at Taichung Station.

"We're at Taichung! Let's go!" I stood up, picked up my suitcase, and got off.

Whether it was because I had the ticket or because she was hesitantly contemplating this unprecedented adventure, she picked up her light carry-on luggage, head down, and followed me off the train with a trembling heart.

The cool night breeze of Taichung invigorated me.

As we exited the station, I looked back at her following behind. The helplessness, shyness, and bewilderment in her expression were worlds apart from the bold, tender, and confident look in her eyes on the train. I suddenly felt a surge of pride and a sense of greatness at being relied upon. I had always relied on my family since childhood.

I turned back, took her soft hand, and said to her, "Let's find a hotel first, and leave at dawn!"

The cool night breeze made her unconsciously hug me.

Taking the room key from the sleepy-eyed receptionist, I led her upstairs.

We opened the door and went inside. She hesitated outside for a minute before following me in with her head down.

It was a comfortable suite, with a snow-white double bed covered in snow-white sheets and blankets. On the coffee table sat a thermos and two glasses wrapped in white paper. Two sofa chairs leaned against the wall with the curtains drawn. Her slightly uneasy expression could be seen in the large mirror of the dressing table.

I placed the suitcase on the coffee table, closed the door, turned on the bathroom light, and turned to her, saying, "Why don't you take a shower first?"

The atmosphere was a little awkward. She replied, "

What about you?" "Are you going to shower with me?" I said.

She seemed a little embarrassed, smiled shyly, and slipped into the bathroom.

I turned off the room lights, turned on the air conditioning, and switched on the TV and bedside lamp, making the room much softer.

Listening to the rushing water from the bathroom, I lay in bed flipping through the TV remote.

"Mmm...ah..." came the moaning sounds from an adult film.

Looking at the image of a fit, blonde woman moaning in the mirror, and then thinking about her in the bathroom, my lower body involuntarily trembled, gradually becoming throbbing.

Watching and watching, unable to suppress my racing heart, I grabbed my change of clothes and went to the bathroom door.

"May I come in?" I asked, gently knocking on the door.

"Sure!" came the reply from inside.

The door opened, and there she was, already dressed in a white shirt, smiling mischievously as she slipped out.

"You naughty girl!" I thought to myself, but said aloud, "You tricked me!" I

quickly washed myself and changed into clean underwear. I kept an eye on the door, afraid she might change her mind and leave.

I peeked through the crack in the door. I saw her sitting on the bed, knees bent, covered by the sheet, her eyes glued to the television. She looked completely absorbed. Sometimes she raised her eyebrows, sometimes she slightly parted her lips.

I suddenly flung open the bathroom door, and she shyly hid under the covers.

I turned off the television, turned on the bedside music, and pulled back the sheet to get in.

She turned over, burying her pink cheeks in the pillow. Was it shyness? Was it fear?

Seeing her delicate, shy demeanor, like a newlywed bride, reminded me of Wanzhen, my childhood sweetheart and neighbor from my hometown. That was a virginal flutter I can never forget...

Wanzhen was my childhood playmate; she had been a part of my life since I was old enough to remember.

From elementary school onwards, we played together in our shared courtyard, walking hand-in-hand to school. The adults in that secluded, rustic countryside loved to pair us up, teasing us to satisfy their own regrets about marriages they couldn't arrange. We, though only vaguely understanding, were both happy with the adults' approval.

Her father worked for a central government agency; in that rustic countryside, we had a neighbor who was a high-ranking official in Taipei. Every time I heard the muffled coughing from the intercom, I knew Wan-zhen's father had come home.

Things changed when I was in sixth grade: her family built a big house!

The courtyard was divided in two, and the lush bamboo fences were replaced by cold brick walls. Wan-zhen was kept like a canary in the high attic. In the isolated courtyard, I could only hear Wan-zhen's joyful singing coming from the second floor of her house; I could no longer see her rosy cheeks as she sang. After her parents sent her to our neighbor Mr. Chen's house to learn piano, our opportunities to catch loaches together in the mud became even fewer.

In junior high, the separation of boys and girls into classes and the queuing system for dismissal further distanced us. I had never felt so lonely before. Occasionally, I would bump into her at the alley entrance; she would always smile shyly at me, head down, as she passed by. She wore a floral dress and had grown into a graceful young woman. A deep sense of loneliness and the nascent feelings of understanding the difference between boys and girls made me unable to concentrate on my studies. I indulged in the world of Zhuge Qingyun, Wolong Sheng, Qiong Yao… In that fantastical world, I could fulfill dreams I couldn't achieve in reality. This was the root cause of why I couldn't get into the "good high school" everyone talked about.

It was a summer vacation in early eighth grade! I experienced a virginal flutter that I'll never forget…

Mr. Chen's son, Yuanzhi (a classmate and neighbor from my junior high school, though in a different class), invited me to his house to play bridge. Yuanzhi, under his father's tutelage, was a skilled pianist; he would occasionally substitute for his father in giving lessons. If sitting next to Wanzhen and instructing her on piano fingering was a right, then I always watched that right with longing! The loss of that right was the main reason I practiced various instruments diligently throughout high school!

Passing through the front of Yuanzhi's family's general store, I saw Yuanzhi, his older brother Hongzhi, and… at the threshold of the back hall. Wanzhen (I simply couldn't believe I'd run into her under these circumstances)

"Hey! What's Shen Mufan been up to lately? He hasn't even invited me fishing!" Yuanzhi scolded as soon as I entered. He knew my brother-in-law kept a pond of tilapia, and after being invited once, he became interested in fishing.

"Hello, Hongzhi!" I greeted Hongzhi, who was on vacation back from studying in Taichung.

"Wanzhen! Hello!" That was a name I hadn't called in a long time. I felt my accent was a bit rusty; it had been two years since I last called her that name!

"Hello!" Wanzhen responded with a generous yet slightly awkward smile.

Looking at her familiar yet dazzling smile, like a flower just beginning to bloom, reminded me of the blooming osmanthus tree on the wall above my house. As a child, I often played under its shade, but now I can't recall what it truly looked like.

Since starting junior high, I've never seen her so closely as I did today. She wore a snow-white short-sleeved top, revealing her slender, lotus-root-like arms. Her sparse bangs framed her rosy cheeks, and a pair of bright red earrings peeked out from behind her ears. Looking at her familiar, delicate hands, I saw that the plump, childish expression of the past had been replaced by a beautiful appearance. She exuded the air of a well-bred young lady, making me sigh at the wonder of time.

During the card game, I couldn't muster the courage to look her directly in the eye. Occasionally, I would pretend to talk to Yuanzhi, then quickly and nervously glance at her. She seemed to sense the awkwardness of the situation, and whenever I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, she would lower her head and pretend to look at the cards.

"Hongzhi! Yuanzhi! Come and help unload the goods!" Just as we finished playing three hands of mahjong, we heard Aunt Chen's voice calling from the front hall.

"Come on up!" The Chen brothers told us and we went to the front hall together.

Only Wanzhen and I were left at the mahjong table, and this familiar atmosphere made me even more uncomfortable. Just as I was about to grab the cards on the table to shuffle them to ease the strange and awkward atmosphere, unexpectedly, she also reached out her left hand to take the cards. A pair of hands that hadn't touched for years touched again in this bizarre situation. Like the collision of yin and yang poles, tens of thousands of volts collided, creating a flash of lightning before our eyes. The lightning numbed my fingertips, then surged upwards, striking my chest. We both quickly pulled our arms back. Blood rushed to my head, and my heart pounded rapidly, its throbbing clearly audible. Stealing a glance at her, I saw her face flushed, head bowed, silent.

It was a hot early summer, but for my heart, it was early spring.

"Hey! What are you thinking about?" A slender hand shook me from my reverie, followed by Mei Jun's sweet, inquiring voice.

"Sorry! Nothing!" I replied guiltily. I couldn't very well tell her now that I was reminiscing about another girl.

I reached out my right arm to embrace her, but she turned her back again. My hands, through her white shirt, reached for her breasts. I discovered she wasn't wearing a bra; my hands grasped only soft, warm flesh.

To be honest, this was the first time in my life I'd ever held a stranger's breasts. My understanding of female anatomy came entirely from adult books and a few books on sexology; at school, my classmates always teased me for being a "theorist"—all talk and no action. This time, I was so bold to

redeem myself from that "theorist" humiliation. My body trembled slightly as I caressed her, muttering, "Phew! So cold!"

As I leaned forward with my left hand to kiss her ear, she tenderly leaned back against me. My lower body pressed tightly against her full hips, sending a shiver down my spine!

The delicate fragrance wafted into my nostrils as I kissed her earlobe. Her tightly closed eyes trembled slightly, her breathing becoming increasingly rapid.

I moved my right hand to her right shoulder, pulling down the right strap of her shirt. In the soft light, I could see the pink areola atop her high breasts, with pink nipples nestled within. My right hand clumsily grasped it again; the sensation of holding it before was now clearly tangible.

She turned around, slipped down the left shoulder strap of her shirt, revealing a pair of round, high breasts. I was mesmerized; I never imagined a woman's breasts could be so alluring! The deep cleavage gave me an urge to bury my face in them.

I pulled off my top and pounced on her. My upper body kneaded her breasts, my hands hooking behind her armpits as I knelt on top of her. I kissed her lips and neck roughly, inhaling her intoxicating scent that fueled my passion.

"Gently!" she whimpered, slipping her hands inside my underwear.

"Hoo!" I exhaled deeply as she massaged my genitals.

As I arched my knees to facilitate her movements, I buried my face in the depths of her chest, sucking on her soft, full breasts. By accident, when I rubbed my front teeth against her areola, she unexpectedly opened her cherry lips and let out a few soft moans. This discovery emboldened me to occasionally kiss her nipples with my lips. Unable

to resist any longer, she pulled down my underwear and pressed my penis between her thighs. A few squeezes made me pull down her skirt, turn around, and bury my head between her legs.

A woman's thighs are truly softer and more comfortable than a feather pillow; I think sleeping with a woman's thighs in my arms must be the greatest pleasure in life. As I suckled on her long, soft thighs, I smelled a different kind of fragrance. It was a unique scent emanating from her white cotton underwear. I noticed a slight dampness in her panties between her thighs, a thin slit between her bulging mounds.

I ran my index finger gently over the slit, feeling the warmth and moisture of an impending eruption.

"Ah! Ah...ah..." Mei Jun's legs twisted from side to side, her hands gripping my lower body tightly, emitting seductive moans.

Hearing her alluring whimpers, I couldn't help but pull down her snow-white panties.

Sparse, curly black pubic hair covered her mounds, the entrance to her paradise undulating slightly in the dampness with her trembling. Gently parting a patch of pinkish-red opening, I could see a deep, secluded path leading directly inside. Her fingers moved the double doors left and right, causing her to sit up unbearably and pull me to lie beside her.

She bent her right leg and held me between her thighs. She opened her left leg and lifted it up. She held my baby with her left hand and rubbed her private parts.

How could the sensitive baby who had never ventured into the cave endure this soft and warm rubbing, and a numbness rose from the bottom of the perineum. I felt humiliated, so I quickly pressed my right hand against the pulsating perineum, took a deep breath, and crawled on top of her.

He rubbed her firm breasts with both hands and sucked her nipples in turn. I spread her legs with my knees, and gently tapped her private parts left and right, until she had to beg me.

"Brother Fan, come in quickly, come here, come quickly," she begged, panting.

I deliberately pressed lightly for a while longer until my glans felt incredibly wet. I knew she had suffered enough; her private parts were overflowing.

"Come in...oh..." she pleaded again, and I unexpectedly thrust into her, making her moan softly.

I could intuitively feel the powerful contractions of her vagina. But after a few thrusts, as she trembled and convulsed slightly, I felt a chill and quickly thrust forward, a gush of hot fluid gushing out.

"Ah...gently...ah...no..." Perhaps it was too deep; she tried to push me away.

It was my first time experiencing intercourse and orgasm, and I grabbed her shoulders and pressed her down towards my lower body. It

was so beautiful! The post-coital pleasure made my whole body relax. I lay exhausted on her soft body.

She obediently took the sheet and wiped my sweat from my back before lying on her side, my penis still inside her.

I smiled at her, and she looked back at me, a little shy, and said, "I never want to make love to you again, you teased me..."

I leaned closer and said, "It's because you were so wanton at the beginning, this is my first time!"

She blushed and said, "Really!"

Before I could reply, her lips were on mine, our tongues exploring each other.

You've eaten sweet rice cakes, haven't you! A woman's lips sucking feels like that.

After a while, I suddenly felt my lower body, immersed in her vagina, swell again, and she seemed to feel it too.

"Ah...you...you again..." She lovingly and joyfully rubbed against me again.

This time, she sat on top of me, gently swaying her hips, as if cherishing it, afraid of ending it hastily like the first time.

Even as she writhed, she wouldn't forget to bend down from time to time, giving me a loving kiss. Her writhing was skillful. The deep, subtle writhing caused me less stimulation, but it was pleasurable for her every time, as could be seen from the twitching expression on her face.

She gasped for breath like a carp starving for air, her chest heaving, her breasts swaying and bobbing with her movements.

I propped my head up with two pillows, admiring her expressions. Her smooth abdomen writhed back and forth with her movements, creating a deep wrinkle. Her long, black hair flew wildly with every turn of her head. I watched as my penis moved in and out of her vagina, sometimes fully inserted, sometimes partially withdrawn. It was then that I noticed a pink pearl embedded slightly above her vulva. I rubbed it with my fingers in rhythm with her movements.

"Ah... um..." Her movements became faster and faster, and the pressure of her rubbing increased. Naturally, the pressure on my fingers, which were rubbing against that pearl, also increased.

Soon, she called out to me incoherently, "Ah!... I'm coming... faster... faster... hold... hold me..." With each cry, she leaned forward to increase the pressure.

I didn't respond to her, and instead, I kept thrusting my hips upwards unintentionally. After about ten repetitions, she grabbed my upper body and hugged me tightly, screaming wildly, "I...I'm going to die...I'm going to die..."

Her last few thrusts were really hard, making my pubic bone ache. After a loud cry, she collapsed and said, "I'm so dizzy, I want to lie down."

After helping her lie down, looking at her pale, sweaty body, she was truly exhausted! But what about it, nestled between her thighs?

"Do you still want to?" I thought she was probably tired and wanted to rest.

"It's your turn!" Her slightly panting cherry lips gave an answer that surprised me.

I held her on the edge of the bed, my hands supporting her legs on my arms. Standing at the edge, I assumed the perfect position for my second wave of attack, aiming for maximum penetration and contact.

This semi-standing, semi-crouching posture conserved my energy. Each thrust sent waves of flesh rippling across her chest, eliciting moans and groans from her. The sound of my penis slapping against her vulva mingled with the rhythmic pumping of my penis. It was a masterpiece of three impacts in one go.

"Ouch...ouch..." she whimpered, as I rubbed and kneaded her, sending shivers down her spine. She reached orgasm approximately twice. This was evident in the strength of her grip on my arms and the frequency of her vaginal contractions.

In the rage, a gush of fluid shot straight to her uterus. I quickly pried her legs apart and leaned forward, pressing my body against her chest.

"Ah!...Ah!...Ah!..." She cried out several times in sync with the frequency of my ejaculation.

A volcano erupting with lava doesn't calm down overnight.

When she greedily told me she wanted to see me again, that she wanted me to be her godbrother forever, I hesitated!

The passion of a young woman in early spring is fiery and overflowing. Recalling her greedy behavior last night, I feared I would suffocate in that torrent that had overwhelmed me.

"No! All good things must come to an end. You have a family, and I have studies to complete. Let us each silently cherish these memories."

After hearing my words, she cried!

As I saw her off at the train station, she still looked at me on the platform with tearful resentment. I, in turn, looked at the woman I had seen as prey when she came, and who I had almost become her prey on her way out.

Postscript: This article is a compilation of a friend's experiences, reflecting both the alienation that civilized life creates for human relationships and the clash between traditional etiquette and modern values, as well as the potentially destructive power of repressed passion once unleashed.

The article "Business Trip" is visually vibrant, with colorful descriptions of situations and clothing, reflecting Eastman's pervasive sense of "color." This article, however, uses a black-and-white approach to depict the world of "emotion." Both are evocative, aligning with the theme of "erotic literature" in this section. I hope you enjoy these two different writing styles.

The first two pieces are written in the male first-person perspective, which creates a more immersive and realistic experience. However, many objective descriptions lack diversity and are supplemented by recollections and retellings to compensate for the monotony and subjectivity of the first-person narrative.

My next piece will be written from a female perspective, with D.H. Lawance's "Lady Chatterley's Lover" being a prime example. I dare not compare myself to literary giants here, but only hope to achieve a breakthrough in my own writing style. Of course, referring to the works of female writers will help me to understand and perceive the feelings of women. —

Shen Mufan, on the night of the first draft of "A Night Train Journey South,"
May 8, 2013

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