May she live a peaceful life.

Work and life went on, and we were both busy with our own things. More than a month passed. We communicated via WeChat, mainly about work-related matters. Although our positions were unrelated, it was a way for us to confide in each other and exchange ideas. During this time, we also went to a neighboring small town, where we went shopping, watched movies, ate out, and made love. We did it three times that night. She gave me oral sex, but she clearly hadn't done it much before; it felt like she was using her teeth, and it hurt a bit, so I refused. I'll teach her slowly. I took pictures of us making love with my phone, but none of them showed our faces; they were all close-ups of our genitals, which we enjoyed together. Y told me that in the month since she came back, she had refused her husband's sexual advances with various excuses. This made me feel uneasy.

Another rendezvous was in the afternoon. I booked a hotel room in advance and sent the room number to Y. I knew quite a few people in this small town, and booking a hotel took some thought. I specifically chose a remote hotel. We couldn't go in together, so I went upstairs first to wait for her, and she drove over herself. I took a shower first, then lay in bed waiting, feeling the time drag on endlessly. Finally, Y arrived. We shared a long kiss, then she said she needed to shower first. After showering, she came out wrapped in a towel, and I pushed her down onto the bed. She giggled, and I pulled off her towel, exposing her body to me—a slightly slender, bony beauty. I spread her legs into an M shape and buried my face in her most alluring spot, licking and sucking. I won't go into the details; I'm not writing erotica. Y quickly began to pant, her juices flowing freely. It was about time, so I mounted her. This time, our lovemaking lasted for over ten minutes. Y fell asleep in my arms, completely satisfied. Since Y had an appointment at 5 PM, I set an alarm and then fell asleep too. The alarm clock woke us up. Y got up and dressed. Watching her put on her bra was so alluring; my penis got hard again. I pushed her down, spread her legs, and slowly rubbed my penis against her vaginal opening for a while. Y is truly a wonderful woman; her vagina quickly became wet again. I quickly thrust in and out, and she looked at me with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Then, guided by the approaching climax, she closed her eyes and slowly hugged me, her lower body moving in rhythm with my thrusts. Since it was our second time, this time it lasted longer, about half an hour in total. After I ejaculated, I told Y to go wash up. When she came out, she complained a few times, saying I had driven her crazy and made her late. I laughed and said, "Who told you to be so charming and alluring, exuding the allure of a mature woman?"

Y left first as usual. I smoked a cigarette in the room before checking out. We both felt great after the afternoon's sex; we felt refreshed afterwards. It seems that quality sex really can bring pleasure and relaxation. I also felt like I couldn't live without her anymore, and I constantly wanted to have sex with her. For a while, when I had sex with my wife, I would fantasize about Y being beneath me.

Later, we'd meet up for dinner every ten days or so, followed by sex, sometimes in a hotel, sometimes in the car. Y still resisted car sex, but when I aroused her, she couldn't resist. Mainly, booking a hotel room was too much trouble, but she gradually accepted it. Strangely enough, when I had sex with Y, my penis was always rock hard, and Y said it was very hard too. I also felt I hadn't been this hard in years; it felt like I was 20 again. The small town I lived in was indeed too small, and constantly booking hotels meant there was a chance of running into acquaintances. Y suggested I rent a small apartment so I could cook for myself and avoid accidentally being seen by colleagues or friends while eating out. The money spent on hotels would cover the rent, so I started looking for an apartment.

Before I could even rent one, something happened that led to our breakup. She once said she wanted a daughter. I thought she was joking, and I also assumed she had an IUD. Women born in the 1970s almost always have one after childbirth, and they have annual checkups, though they stopped this year. I don't know why Y removed her IUD. We didn't use condoms during sex, and Y didn't take birth control pills. She got pregnant without even knowing she was pregnant, and because of a cold, she took antibiotics. She wants the child but is afraid of giving birth to a deformed baby. She said she's fallen in love with me, feels she can't live without me, and wants to divorce her husband to be with me. When I heard this, I was in big trouble and completely stunned. My wife and I may have lost our passion, but our relationship is still good, far from the point of divorce. Besides, the cost of divorce and rebuilding a family is too high. The book says men can separate sex and love, but women link them together—that's so true. Perhaps this is the midlife crisis of our generation: when the passion in a marriage fades, a new romance can lead to a headlong rush, like a moth to a flame. After my accidental encounter with Y, my initial thought was that we would be lovers, intimate and devoted lovers, confidantes, sharing our innermost thoughts and occasionally engaging in physical and emotional connection. I'm not noble; perhaps even a little depraved, fantasizing about having a stable home life while having affairs on the side. But I didn't expect Y to be so resolute, wanting to divorce her husband and be with me. Women are always fickle. Perhaps her initial thought was the same as mine—to find a lover. But later, she discovered that this lover was much better than her husband; we had common ground, and there was passion in our relationship. So, she was no longer satisfied with secret rendezvous and wanted to be with me openly. At 20, you might not know what love is, but at 40, love is real. Y truly fell in love with me, and I can't say she's wrong.

I can't give her that promise because I don't know how to face my wife, parents, son, relatives, friends, and colleagues. The cost of divorce is too high. I told Y all my concerns, and she questioned me, "Now that things have gone wrong, and I'm pregnant, what can you do? Why didn't you provoke me in the first place?" I was speechless. I admit I was selfish, retreating and running away. Regarding my relationship with her, I didn't intentionally do anything at first; it all happened naturally. Could I possibly ask her if we had agreed to be lovers without affecting each other's families?

The last WeChat message Y sent me was, "Let's break up!" By the time I replied, she had already deleted me. I still occasionally see her at meetings, but she never looks at me directly again. Perhaps all I've given her as a man is heartbreak and disappointment. I know I ultimately hurt her. This relationship only lasted about half a year, and we couldn't even be friends after the breakup. The lesson I learned is: never sleep with your opposite-sex friends, and never dream of turning a confidant into a lover, unless you're prepared to never see each other again. How many people cheat with a sense of侥幸心理 (a gambler's mentality), knowing it's wrong but still eager to try, indulging in the thrill of infidelity while suffering the pangs of conscience, caught in the conflict between desire and morality, creating a "fish that slipped through the net" mentality. If you turn to something new and fresh simply because you're tired of it, then when that freshness fades, all that's left is endless hurt and an inescapable vicious cycle of emotional turmoil.

This is dedicated to her memory. May she live a long and peaceful life!

[The End]

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