That night I slept with my wife, my lover's wife, and his daughter.

I'm a doctor, and this all started early last year. I was on a business trip out of town. One evening, after returning from a business dinner, I received a call from my wife as soon as I got to my hotel. She sounded worried, saying she was sick. I asked what was wrong, but she wouldn't say. After pressing her for a while, she remained silent on the other end of the line, finally saying slowly, "You'll know when you get back," and then hung up. I called back, but her cell phone was off, and the landline went unanswered.

I felt something was amiss, so I called her parents. I didn't mention her illness at first, just chatted casually, and finally asked if she had been home recently, and how her work and health were. The older women said she hadn't been home recently, but they had spoken on the phone the previous morning, and everything was fine. After a few more pleasantries, I hung up.

I lay in bed thinking for a while, then got up and called her sister. When she answered, I went straight to the point and asked what was wrong with my wife.

On the other end of the line, her sister asked me in surprise, "You didn't know? She's pregnant." I was taken aback and asked when it happened. She said she accompanied my wife to the hospital for a checkup yesterday afternoon. I told her my wife had called me saying she was sick, but didn't mention pregnancy. My sister said she'd go see her and call me back later. However, that night, I never received a call, nor could I contact the sisters again.

I wondered: Did distance make the heart grow fonder? Or did she want to change her mind?

Unfortunately, I had lost interest in the answer. Since meeting YY, my feelings for my wife had been fading at an alarming rate. If my previous hatred was mixed with jealousy and longing, now all my revenge was driven by a simple and clear purpose: to regain my shattered self-esteem.

The 18th was YY's birthday.

On the 17th, I asked YY to give me a complete birthday celebration. She asked, "What do you mean?" I said, "Your entire day is mine to arrange." She pretended to consider it for a moment, then smiled and said, "Okay."

Around 1 a.m. on the 18th, I called her, saying I was downstairs at her dorm and asked her to come down with her ID. She came downstairs, still half asleep, and asked what was wrong. I told her it was her birthday. I put her in the car and drove straight to the airport. She seemed to only come to her senses when we boarded the 3:15 AM flight to Urumqi.

After arriving in Urumqi, we transferred to an 8 AM flight to Yining. We arrived in Yining at 9 AM and then took a three-hour car ride. At 12:30 AM, when she saw the beautiful Narat Grassland, she excitedly hugged me.

We mounted horses on the left side of the grassland, and after about twenty minutes, we entered the grassland* and saw the largest yurt on the Narat Grassland.

I led her into the yurt. As soon as we stepped onto the red carpet, music filled the air, and a dozen or so Kazakh boys and girls rushed forward, surrounding her like a princess, singing and dancing around her.

YY was stunned, looking at me blankly. I took her hand, led her through the crowd to a large dining table, sat down on the floor, took out a piece of lustrous green Hetian jade, put it around her neck, and said: "YY, I've been preparing for this day for a month. Happy birthday."

YY, tears welling in her eyes, clung tightly to me.

That day, inspired by the unique warmth of the Kazakh people, we sang and danced along with them, drinking bowl after bowl of slightly sour mare's milk wine, singing and drinking, dancing and drinking, until finally, we all passed out drunk in the yurt.

That night, we stayed in a yurt. Outside, the bright moonlight bathed the beautiful grassland; inside, YY lay quietly in my arms. I peeled off her clothes, revealing a body more alluring than the moonlight. Seeing her tightly closed thighs trembling in my hands, I still felt no pity. As I entered her, she reacted instinctively, experiencing a resistance she hadn't intended.

When bright red blood splattered onto the snow-white sheets, it formed a tiny rose petal, a breathtakingly beautiful sight. I put the sheets away and placed them in the gift box.

All night, she clung to me like a kitten, curled up in my arms, her eyes filled with tears.

That day, I slept soundly.

Finally, my third foot stepped into her body; this would surely become her most lasting memory.

On the way back, we crossed the Yining River Bridge. In the afterglow of the setting sun, someone played an accordion on the bridge. Guided by the cheerful music, we saw a Uyghur couple walking across the bridge. A large crowd of wedding guests and onlookers had gathered, speaking languages we couldn't understand, cheering and offering their blessings.

YY held me tightly, gazing longingly at the lively scene outside the car window; her joy seemed contagious. She rested her head on my chest and said dreamily, "Brother, when we get married, let's walk across the Yining River Bridge too, okay?"

I stroked her hair and whispered, "Okay."

She closed her eyes happily and fell asleep almost immediately.

The flight back from Xinjiang took half an hour less than the way there.

We landed at the city's airport before 2 PM. After collecting my luggage, I took YY's hand and headed towards the exit. Suddenly, I spotted a familiar figure in the crowd of people waiting to pick me up, and a chill ran down my spine.

I told YY to wait for me outside while I quickly turned back, planning to hide in the restroom for a while. Before I could even take a step, a loud voice shouted, "Brother-in-law, I'm here to pick you up!" Immediately, Xiao Song's tall figure rushed over, snatched the luggage from my hands like a robber, and took my arm, leading me towards the door.

YY looked at Xiao Song with surprise, then turned to me, gazing at me expectantly. I knew she wanted to hear me say, "I'm sorry, you've mistaken me for someone else."

But I could only lower my head, shrinking away from her hopeful eyes. As I walked out, my face ashen, my heart ached terribly, the pain almost making me unable to stand. I dared not look back, afraid that if I turned around, I would see her suddenly faint. Xiao Song hadn't driven, which made me even more suspicious of his motives for coming to pick me up.

I got the car from the parking lot (my car was parked at the airport). Xiao Song sat in the front, while YY was practically slumped in the back.

The whole way, Xiao Song kept talking to himself, cleverly keeping the focus on me, my wife, and her pregnancy. I knew he was introducing me to YY through his self-talk. His words were like scimitars slowly torturing YY, bullets piercing me one by one. I knew my despicable actions were being torn apart by a despicable person using despicable methods. YY

initially gritted her teeth and endured it, but slowly, she began to sob softly. In the rearview mirror, she was covering her face with her hands, trembling all over, tears streaming from between her fingers… She tried to suppress her emotions, but only let the grief run deep. My face was ashen

, and I wanted nothing more than to kick Xiao Song out of the car. I didn't say a word, pressing the accelerator with all my might; the car almost floated on the road—I needed to get away from this person as soon as possible.

When I dropped YY off at school, she was weak and could barely walk. I tried to help her, but she pushed me away with disgust. As she gradually blurred from my sight, a growing anxiety about losing her forever intensified in my heart. My eyes welled up with tears.

I drove out of the school gate and asked Xiao Song why. Xiao Song said it was for revenge. I was silent for a while, then asked him how he knew my whereabouts. He sneered and said he was a policeman and naturally had the means.

I told him to get out of the car, and he drove away without looking back.

I sat motionless in the car, gazing at the girls' dormitory building inside the wall, smoking one cigarette after another, from afternoon until night, until dawn. The next morning, I went to the dormitory to look for her. She wasn't there; her roommate said she hadn't returned all night. I searched the entire campus for her, and finally found her sitting blankly on a couple's chair by the grove of trees. I went over and hugged her; she didn't move, only tears streamed down her face.

I was afraid she'd do something foolish, so I stayed with her the whole time. At noon, I bought her a boxed lunch and tried to feed her, but she kept her head away. I forced the food into her mouth, but she spat it out. I managed to feed her a few sips of mineral water, and tears started flowing again, much more profusely than flowing.

By evening, exhausted, she fell asleep in my arms. Occasionally, a faint smile appeared on her face in her sleep. I thought perhaps she was dreaming of happy times from the past, and this thought made my heart ache.

In the morning, she woke up and cried again. I tried to comfort her, but she looked annoyed, pushing me away, not wanting me near her or to listen to me. Because I had to leave the hospital that morning, I told her I had to go and would come back to see her that evening.

She didn't respond, but when I removed my hand from her shoulder, I could clearly feel her trembling; her longing was palpable, and tears streamed down her face again.

That evening, when I went back to school, my classmates said YY had gone home.

I tried calling her cell phone, but it was off. I sent her countless text messages, but received no reply.

As I walked back, Xiao Tan called, saying she saw my car and wanted me to stop and say a few words. I pulled over and turned off the engine, and Xiao Tan arrived.

After a few pleasantries, Xiao Tan subtly inquired about my sister-in-law's recent situation, implying she hoped I could help arrange a meeting. My dislike for Xiao Song forced me to treat his rival as an ally, even if he was just a tool I used for revenge in the past and present.

There's always a way out; Xiao Tan's appearance rekindled my hope of driving Xiao Song out of my life.

I understood his lingering feelings for my sister-in-law, sighed, and said, "If you want to see her, I don't know if I can help." Recently, a policeman surnamed Song has been relentlessly pursuing her. Xiao Tan gritted her teeth, saying she knew this man had been pursuing her sister-in-law; when they used to date, she often received calls from this policeman, and they had even argued because of Xiao Song.

I said, "You don't know yet, but this policeman surnamed Song orchestrated your breakup."

Xiao Tan grabbed me excitedly, urgently pressing me for details. I shook my head, pretending to have something difficult to say, hesitating to speak.

He panicked, suddenly kneeling on the ground, saying, "Brother-in-law, don't worry, I understand your situation. Tell me the whole story, and I will never betray you. If I divulge a single word, I, Tan**, will die a horrible death."

I quickly helped him up, saying, "This matter is extremely important, concerning my sister's reputation. I shouldn't have told you. But firstly, I feel sorry for you. Secondly, since you've already said so, it would be too disloyal of me to keep it a secret. However, I'll treat what I said today as mere rambling to thin air, something you overheard. Even if you tell others later, I will never admit it."

Xiao Tan swore again, saying that even if he died, he would never utter a single word about it.

I turned away from him, and as if talking to myself, I looked up at the sky and said: "I have a younger sister who has always loved a young man surnamed Tan. They are deeply in love, and they've even set a wedding date. However, her colleague, a policeman surnamed Song, has been harassing her for years. When this policeman heard about their impending marriage, he took advantage of a business trip to rape her, took photos, and threatened to release them if she didn't stay with him. For the sake of her reputation, my sister had no choice but to painfully break up with Tan and get together with this policeman."

After I finished speaking, I turned around and saw that Tan's face was contorted with rage. He slammed his fist into the car, almost deforming it. He said, "No wonder she was so resolute when we broke up, but wouldn't give any reason." Then he turned and walked away.

Just as I was about to light a cigarette to celebrate, he rushed back, stood in front of me, and shouted, "Brother-in-law, I will never let this beast get away with this, I swear!"

I patted him on the shoulder, said nothing, and turned to get into the car. I slowly drove forward, coldly watching his furious figure disappear into the distance in the rearview mirror. For over a month, I've insisted on texting YY every day. Although I haven't received a single reply, occasionally looking through my sent messages and reflecting on my emotional journey brings a faint sense of satisfaction amidst the feeling of loss and defeat.

I also call YY every day, and without exception, I hear the cold, robotic female voice: "User's phone is switched off, please try again later." I cursed fiercely—I thought, the woman whose voice belongs must have been violated in the hearts of countless strange men.

Time passed day by day, and two months went by in the blink of an eye. There was still no word from YY. I went to the school several times, and each time, YY's classmates told me: "She's not here." Each time, their cold and arrogant attitude pierced through those two words like arrows, striking my heart and conveying their deep disdain and hatred for me.

This severely damaged my self-esteem. Usually, I don't care if others hate me, curse me, or even hit me. What I fear is being looked down upon—that's more painful than being slowly sliced to death. From then on, I stopped texting and calling; I started considering letting go.

One weekend, I called my wife to tell her I was coming home at noon, bringing dirty clothes to wash and a few clean clothes to take with me. After arriving home, I greeted my mother-in-law first, then spoke a few words with my wife. I told her the hospital had been busy lately, and I was resting better in our rented apartment, where everything was convenient. My wife told me to take care of myself and didn't say much more.

At lunchtime, the table was full of dishes. I initially thought guests were coming, but upon closer inspection, they were all my favorites. After a couple of bites, I retreated to my study. Half an hour later, the housekeeper came in to mop the floor. I casually asked a few questions and learned that my wife had specially arranged the meal.

In the afternoon, I went to pay the phone bill. After finishing the formalities, I suddenly remembered that YY hadn't taken her phone when she went to Xinjiang, and she had complained that it was almost out of credit. I pondered for a long time, and an idea popped into my head. I immediately dialed her number, but it was still switched off, not a notification of unpaid bills or suspension. I was certain of one thing: YY was still paying her phone bill after we broke up—YY had a global roaming plan, which included landline fees.

I sat in the mobile service center and began to carefully analyze the thoughts behind her strange behavior.

First, I was certain of another thing: YY kept her phone off all the time because she didn't want to face me. So, was she paying the bill also for me?

Since her phone was off all the time, and no one could contact YY through this number for the past two months, why didn't she give up the number but instead continued to pay the bill every month? If she was determined to break up with me, wouldn't it have been cleaner to suspend the phone service? —But she didn't do that. I started to feel a surge of joy. I guessed it was because she kept the number so she could see my text messages. Because of the humiliation, she didn't want to answer my calls; because of longing, she wanted to see my messages. Doing this allowed her to protect herself from the conflict between longing and humiliation.

I began to confirm a third thing: she missed me.

Reaching this possible conclusion, I was so excited I practically jumped off the chair in the phone store.

To confirm my theory, I rushed out, bought a public phone card, and started calling her cell phone incessantly. It was off… still off… seemingly always off… I patiently pressed the redial button again and again—I knew that if she wanted to see my messages, she would turn it on at some point during the day.

Finally, around 1 a.m., the phone connected clearly.

My hand holding the receiver trembled—the excitement in my heart was like seeing a long-withered rose suddenly bloom before my eyes.

The call lasted a long time before YY answered. I knew she was guessing and hesitating.

"YY..." I called out, but didn't know what to say. On the other end of the line, she was as silent as a grave.

Two minutes later, she hung up.

I sent her a text: I miss you so much.

After a long pause, she replied: Uncle, if there's an afterlife, I'd like to...miss you.

I texted again: YY, I'll get a divorce, I promise.

This time she replied a little faster: You're still lying to me.

I texted again: If I lie to you, I won't see the sun tomorrow.

After a long pause, she replied: The weather forecast says it will rain tomorrow.

I thought for a moment and texted: If the sun shines tomorrow, it means God is taking pity on our love and has changed his mind about rain. If the sun shines tomorrow, will you obey God and forgive me?

She replied: God won't take pity on you, it will definitely rain tomorrow.

I texted again, insisting: If the sun shines tomorrow, will you forgive me?

She didn't reply.

That night, in the latter half of the night, suddenly there was lightning and thunder, and a torrential downpour began. I stood on the balcony of my rented room, foolishly standing there all night. Just before dawn, I despairingly went back inside and fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke up the next day, it was already noon. Opening my eyes, I saw a ray of sunlight, like an angel falling on my blankets. I couldn't help but burst into laughter.

At that moment, I truly believed that heaven had eyes, silently pitying my plight and generously bestowing upon me a new love. Later, I realized that fate is so cruel and heartless; its deliberate manipulation of destiny was actually a way to further indulge in the tragedies of life.

That afternoon, I went to school to find YY.

During lunchtime, I waited at the cafeteria entrance and spotted her figure in the distance. I walked towards her. Seeing me, she turned and ran. I chased after her and tried to grab her, but she broke free and continued running towards the dormitory. I rushed up to her, blocked her path, and pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly around the waist. She pounded on me with her fists for a while, then finally collapsed, her head slumped onto my shoulder, and she sobbed uncontrollably.

That night, I forced her to have dinner with me. I made countless promises, and she shed endless tears.

That day, when I remembered to take her back to school, it was too late to get in. I booked a room at a nearby hotel. We agreed to sleep separately. In the middle of the night, she crawled into my blanket, hugged me tightly from behind, and bit my shoulder hard. I rolled over, stripped her naked, and quickly entered her; she was already soaking wet… That morning, when I went limp inside her for the fourth time, she concentrated all her strength on her sharp nails, scratching a deep, long gash on my back.

From then on, to make up for some of my shortcomings, I started taking her to meet some friends my wife didn't know.

One day, I took YY to a friend's birthday party with a surnamed Lin. After a few rounds of drinks, Lin pulled me aside, put his hand on my shoulder, and mysteriously asked me what my relationship with YY was. I honestly told him we were lovers. He gave me a thumbs-up, exaggeratedly waving it a few times, and said, "You're really something, managing to make the daughter of the deputy director of the provincial public security bureau your lover."

Only then did I realize my lover had been transferred to the provincial department.

Dalin used to be my patient, working on bridge engineering, and doing quite well. We were all usually busy, so we rarely got together. Since learning about my relationship with YY, he'd noticeably started flattering me and visiting me much more frequently.

One day, Dalin invited me to dinner again. During the meal, he mentioned a large project; he'd almost secured all the other connections, but it was stuck with Director Y, who wouldn't budge, and he expected trouble with the bidding process. He took a sip of his drink and asked if I could help. A thought crossed my mind, and I agreed to try.

Before leaving, he gave me his inside information, gesturing with his hand to indicate that he could handle it if it didn't exceed that amount. I said, "It might take some time," and he laughed, saying, "Haste makes waste, no rush."

That night, I thought about it for a long time. Was my lover still worth getting revenge on? What if I hurt YY? Finally, I told myself I was a man, a resolute and decisive man, and with the help of alcohol, I finally convinced myself.

The next morning, I called YY and said I wanted to meet her parents. She was surprised on the phone and asked why. I laughed and said I wanted to try to get her parents' support for her marrying an ordinary married man.

She laughed on the phone, saying I was crazy, and that just because I could make her crazy didn't mean I could make the whole world crazy. Even when I hung up, she thought I was just joking.

After work, I had dinner with YY.

I again said I wanted to meet her parents. She refused without hesitation. I told her it wouldn't be a traditional meeting; I would win her parents' favor with a completely different identity.

She was curious and asked, "What kind of unfamiliar identity?"

I said, "Piano teacher.

" YY's mouth dropped open for a long time.

While helping her with her food, I explained my plan. I told her to go home and tell her parents she wanted to learn piano, and they would naturally hire a piano teacher. And I, being an amateur piano expert, could tutor her and fool some complete novices without any problem.

This way, I could smoothly enter her home, gradually establishing myself as a professional pianist and an amateur piano prince in her parents' minds. When the time was right, I could then publicly announce our relationship, making it easier for them to accept.

After I finished explaining my plan, YY smiled happily and even began to admire my intelligence and romantic nature.

Before getting YY to implement this plan, I spent some time handling the details. First, I loitered around YY's neighborhood for two days. Several times, I pretended to bump into her lover by chance. Seeing me, he showed no unease or surprise, confirming that he didn't recognize me, and my wife hadn't shown him any photos. Second, I obtained some fake professional certificates and an ID card. After all, playing the piano is just a hobby for me; I don't have any certificates.

Here, I encountered a small problem: explaining my name change to YY. I told her it was also my real name, the one I used as a child with my mother's surname. I only recently took my father's surname, Tang, because I felt my old name didn't sound good, so I changed it again. Since I had lost my ID card but still had my old one, I used my old name again. She was skeptical and somewhat dissatisfied, but didn't take it to heart. She grumbled a couple of times and still did as I said.

During this time, YY expressed her desire to learn piano to her mother. During the interviews, she used various excuses to refuse several music teachers her father had found. Finally, YY lied to her mother, saying that a classmate had recommended a piano teacher, and since she couldn't find a suitable one, she might as well call that teacher over for a look.

YY's mother agreed.

Finally, one weekend evening, using the alias Lin**, I stepped confidently and nervously into my lover's house.

My lover's house was elegantly decorated. Upon entering, I felt as if the dust had been suddenly wiped away from my troubled soul.

YY and her mother were waiting for me in the living room; my lover wasn't home.

Before leaving, YY had warned me that her mother was a cold and mean person (even worse than some of the women upstairs), very difficult to get along with. Often, guests who said the wrong thing were immediately kicked out. YY said: Because of her poor relationship with her father, her mother is also extremely averse to men. These words put a lot of psychological pressure on me for this meeting.

Actually, YY's mother has a nice name, Lan Yu. At first glance, she doesn't seem as cold as YY described—though time has taken its toll, and the lines of life are beginning to appear on her brow, she still retains a subtle, graceful charm.

I inwardly cursed my lover for his good fortune.

However, just a few minutes later, I began to experience my lover's misfortune.

As soon as I sat down, this woman examined my resume like she was interrogating a criminal. Every now and then, she would look up, first scanning me with distrustful eyes, then suddenly, in a condescending tone, asking some sharp and sarcastic questions.

Finally, after she closed her eyes, lay on the bed like a mummy, and listened to my performance, she waved her hand, without even opening her eyes, and coldly said: "You're not suitable for my YY. You can leave."

My proud self-esteem was shattered to pieces, and I was so heartbroken that I couldn't utter a single word. I didn't even bother to pack up the forged documents and walked out of the living room.

As I prepared to step out the door and disappear quickly, I could still hear her mocking voice as she watched my retreating figure: "Have you really studied piano?" Then came a disdainful laugh.

Hearing this, my anger surpassed reason and hatred. I turned back into the living room, pointed to a painting on the wall, and shouted at her: "Mother-in-law, do you really understand this painting? Hanging such a low-grade forgery of Hai Rui is to showcase your lowest level of connoisseurship?" With that, I ripped the painting down, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it twice.

YY's face turned pale with fright. She huddled in a corner, secretly waving her hand at me, signaling me to leave quickly.

Her mother, however, gave a soft "oh," a flicker of life appearing in her ancient, tomb-like eyes.

She coughed, sat up straight, and slowly said: "YY's father hung this up. He knew it was a fake from the start. I've always opposed graffiti like this on the walls, but her father insisted on doing it to impress visiting officials." The guests who came to my house all flattered me, saying it was genuine. Only you were honest. You tore it up, which was a bit rash, but I was secretly pleased.

I stood there, dumbfounded. I thought to myself, "A resentful woman's mind is truly unfathomable. When you try to flatter her, she'll kick you; when you try to slap her, she'll give you a hug."

She beckoned me to sit on the sofa and asked me some questions about appreciating antiques.

Misfortune may be a blessing in disguise, and a blessing may be a misfortune in disguise. The cycle of life is so strange.

Our conversation quickly expanded beyond calligraphy and paintings. As the conversation deepened, I was increasingly surprised to discover that beneath her heavy armor, this mother of a deputy director-level official was actually like some pretentious abandoned girls, or some affectedly profound nuns, who admired classical literature.

She liked seven-character regulated verse and even specially brought out a few of her recent works from her study for me to appreciate. I gritted my teeth and recited the old poem I used to woo the school beauty, a poem she'd long since used as toilet paper. Years later, YY's mother, no longer able to smell the toilet, clapped her hands repeatedly, praising the rhythm and imagery. Her eyes held a newfound expectation for me.

The piano teacher issue was also resolved—perhaps in a woman's heart, right and wrong are always judged by emotions. Although I achieved my goal, it was far from the planned steps, making me feel a little ashamed of myself.

The next day, YY called, saying that after I left the night before, her mother was excited for a long time, saying I was very interesting and called her "Grandma." "

YY, let me sing you an old love song:

You are my heart, you are my liver, you are my stomach, you are my lungs, you are the red rose in my heart."

That evening, I accompanied YY to see a movie, a tragic love story. After the movie, she cried uncontrollably, standing in the aisle outside the screening room, pressing her little head against my chest, rubbing against me, and refusing to let me wipe it off.

I told her the movie was all fake, that it wasn't right to say that, or people would think I was bullying her. She cried even harder, saying, "You are bullying me." I remained silent, gently stroking her back with one hand and putting my arm around her waist with the other, and led her outside.

Once on the street, seeing the bright lights and bustling activity on both sides, she seemed to finally recover from the movie.

We held hands and walked to the square. The square was lively; a group of elderly women were dancing in the open space, and some children were rollerblading. She pulled me to the square, made me sit on a flower bed, and told me not to move. Then, she stood aside and stopped a passerby who looked like a student.

YY handed him her phone and said something to him.

After she finished speaking, she ran over and sat on my lap. I laughed and said, "What are you doing? Seducing a handsome guy in front of an old man like this? Don't you want an old man to live?" She ignored me, cupped my cheeks in her hands, and kissed me fiercely.

Her deep affection, conveyed through her burning lips, moved me deeply. I held her tightly, longing to be one with her. I bit her lower lip, responding just as passionately… as if in that instant, the world solidified into love. We were intoxicated by each other's scent, unwilling to part for a long time. In the bustling crowd, my eyes saw only her; in the noisy square, her heart held only me. We were both certain.

When the student smiled and returned the phone to her, YY said shyly, "Thank you."

YY scrolled through her phone, setting the photo as her screensaver and caller ID. After finishing, she jumped for joy, pestering me to call her dozens of times.

On the way to her dormitory, I casually asked her, "What would you do if I hurt you one day?"

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. YY quickly let go of my hand, silent, head down, walking quickly forward. When we reached the dormitory building, she said, "I would never hurt you."

After saying that, she ran upstairs.

After visiting YY's house more often, I also became familiar with Lan Yu.

At first, I called her Director Lan, but she didn't like it, laughing and saying it sounded better to call me Mother-in-law. I said, "Where in the world is there such a beautiful and charming mother-in-law? Just call me Sister Lan." She scolded me for being frivolous, a faint smile appearing on her lips.

I usually went to YY's house between 6 and 10 pm, but I only ran into my lover once; he was rarely home.

I had felt ashamed of my wife's taste when I first saw him in photos. Although a man's appearance has never been the key to attracting women throughout history, I still wondered why my wife could become aesthetically fatigued by my incredibly ugly lover. Was it simply because of that heavy official hat?

My lover was short, thin, with protruding eyes, but a large belly; from a distance, he looked like a toad suffering from famine.

When I met him, he was walking out, talking on the phone the whole time. He nodded when he saw me, without even slowing his pace, and went out.

My first encounter with my lover ended with him completely ignoring me.

This plot has always made me depressed. When I discovered my wife's infidelity, I fantasized about a duel with her lover atop Mount Hua, one wielding the Dragon-Slaying Saber, the other the Heaven-Reliant Sword, each using unparalleled martial arts, fighting until the heavens and earth trembled... Though the outcome was uncertain, the heroic spirit would endure.

However, reality is cruel, as cruel as a phoenix in a dream, only to be used as a snack after waking up.

Fortunately, my relationship with Lan Yu is progressing smoothly, and I believe winning her over is just a matter of time.

I think I'll come in wearing a light green hat and leave wearing a dark red one. On the 7th, my wife's uncle passed away. He was a businessman who owned a FAW-Volkswagen 4S dealership in the area.

Early in the morning, my wife called to arrange to attend the memorial service that evening.

That evening, I went home to pick her up. Driving to Lincheng, when we arrived at her uncle's house, the courtyard was already full of cars, and the mourning hall was crowded with relatives and friends.

Entering the hall, I immediately saw my wife's younger sister; she was facing away from us, arranging funeral couplets with her cousin. I told my wife that her sister had arrived and was busy there. Looking back, my wife's younger sister had just turned around to clean up the paper money, and my wife's view was blocked by her cousin's tall figure.

I looked around for a long time but couldn't find Xiao Song. At this moment, my wife's younger sister saw us, came over, took my wife's hand, and spoke without greeting me.

From their conversation, I deduced that the two sisters hadn't been in contact for a long time. I lit a cigarette, left the mourning hall, and continued searching for Xiao Song. After confirming he hadn't come, I returned to the mourning hall. I stood beside my wife, quietly listening to their conversation; I knew my wife would definitely ask about Xiao Song.

Sure enough, my wife asked, "Why didn't Xiao Song come?"

My sister-in-law remained silent. I noticed her glance at me slightly out of the corner of her eye before I heard her say, "He's preparing for the wedding."

My wife asked in surprise, "Getting married? I've never heard you mention it."

My sister-in-law said, "It was just decided.

" On the way home, my wife couldn't contain her excitement and talked to herself a lot. She praised Xiao Song endlessly, saying that he had pursued her for so many years, facing many hardships, but thankfully, heaven had eyes and allowed the lovers to be together in the end.

I ignored her and drove silently, filled with suspicion. Because when the wedding was mentioned, the expression in my sister-in-law's eyes was even more sorrowful than that of her cousin who had just lost his father.

A week later, I received their wedding invitation.

The invitation was sent to the hospital by express mail, and the date was set for the 18th of next month.

During lunch, another question flashed through my mind: since the wedding isn't until the 14th of next month, why did my wife's younger sister lie and say she was preparing for the wedding when my wife asked why Xiao Song hadn't attended the funeral?

Back in the office, I called my sister-in-law, told her I'd received the invitation, and offered some platitudes like wishing them a long and happy marriage. She answered indifferently, as if listening to me talk about someone else, occasionally letting out a cold laugh. I became increasingly suspicious and asked if something had happened and if she needed my help. She said quietly, "Then come over tonight, I'll take you to see someone."

That evening, I went to pick up my sister-in-law.

She was dressed casually, with a touch of makeup, but her expression was cold and stern. She gave me directions like a traffic cop, refusing to say a word more than necessary.

Following her directions, the car stopped in the parking lot of the Third Municipal Hospital, and my sister-in-law led me into the dermatology ward. Pushing open the door to room 509, I was shocked to see Xiao Song lying on the bed, his lower body wrapped in bandages.

When I went in, Xiao Song didn't respond; I didn't know if he was unconscious or asleep. I stood by the bed and looked at him. Based on the position of the bandages and the IV medication, I basically determined that his genitals had been burned by chemicals.

I turned around in surprise to look for my sister-in-law, who was staring at me coldly.

I asked her what had happened, and she retorted, "Don't you know?" I remembered Xiao Tan and asked again, "Was it Xiao Tan?" She nodded and calmly said, "Xiao Tan poured sulfuric acid on his genitals." I pressed her for an answer, but she didn't answer. Instead, she turned away and tears streamed down her face. After a while, she said, "Brother-in-law, is it really you?"

I trembled, feeling completely lost. I walked past her, intending to push open the ward door and rush out. She grabbed my arm and silently led me through the corridor, down the elevator, to the garden below the inpatient building.

"Xiao Tan assaulted a police officer; it's a serious crime. He's already in detention," my sister-in-law said, standing beside me as if talking to thin air.

"Oh," I said.

"I went to see him, and he told me what you said," she continued.

"Oh,"

"Actually, I've never been with Xiao Song. I lied when I introduced him as my boyfriend at Mom's birthday party," she added.

I was surprised and didn't say anything.

"He's liked me for many years," my sister-in-law said again.

"We all know."

"If Xiao Tan is interrogated, you won't escape the charge of instigation either," my sister-in-law said.

"Hmm," I replied expressionlessly.

My sister-in-law turned to look at me, her eyes brimming with tears. She said loudly, "To protect you, you have to protect Xiao Tan. To protect Xiao Tan, you have to get Xiao Song to drop the charges, saying it was accidental injury." Her tears flowed, and the air seemed to freeze with sorrow. After a long while, she said again, "Xiao Song agreed, on the condition that he marries me."

Hearing this, I became agitated. I grabbed her arm tightly and shook it violently. I called her stupid, a fool. I loudly told her that it wasn't worth it for a scoundrel like me. I said I would never let her marry that good-for-nothing, not even if I died.

She wiped away her tears, smiled, and said, "We registered the day before yesterday, we went there on a stretcher. Because Xiao Song was worried, there's a time limit for keeping him in the detention center. Xiao Tan will be released before the wedding." She paused, then added, "Anyway, I'm so happy to hear you say that."

After a while, she looked up at the starry sky with tearful eyes and said sadly, "You are bad, but I love you."

I hugged her tightly and cried.

For a while, I felt heartbroken whenever I thought of my sister-in-law, feeling like I wasn't a man. Knowing that a woman sacrificed her happiness for your freedom was so heavy it was suffocating.

Every time I held myself in my arms, I was overwhelmed with deep guilt towards my sister-in-law. And the impulse of lust made me realize that I was a selfish, greedy, and despicable person.

For a time, I deliberately distanced myself from YY, using excuses like night shifts, surgery, and meetings to repeatedly refuse her dates. Deep down, I longed to respond to my sister-in-law's painful life with solitary loyalty. Unfortunately, I couldn't do it; I couldn't hold on, because every cry YY uttered tore at my heart, every tear she shed drowned my soul. It was a contradiction between reason and emotion.

I once approached my sister-in-law, hoping she would break up with Xiao Song and be with me. She said it was too late, brother-in-law, maybe in the next life. Actually, I knew that my wife, Xiao Song, and even YY were insurmountable obstacles in our hearts and in reality, all intertwined with love. There was no right or wrong, only a matter of first come, first served.

Only hatred could make me forget everything. As my wife lovingly stroked her increasingly prominent belly, the flames of hatred began to burn fiercely. I love YY, I love my sister-in-law, and I even love my wife. However, I love myself most. My shattered self-esteem was destined to be glued together with the blood of their wounds. Either I continued to break, or the people I loved broke. I chose the latter, and it was a tragedy.

I felt I had violated everyone's ethics and morals. Finally, I launched my first attack on Lan Yu.

Before taking formal action, as usual, I began to gather information about my target. After countless feints and indirect inquiries, I gained a basic understanding of Lan Yu's romantic history and personality traits from YY and Lan Yu herself.

Lan Yu, from a scholarly family, possessed considerable talent and held a sinecure as the deputy director of finance in a certain bureau. In her youth, she was beautiful, aloof, and arrogant, attracting a constant stream of suitors. Initially, her lover was far behind, destined to be rejected. Later, through some unknown means, he jumped to the front of the line and gradually gained favor.

Two years later, he finally won her over with all his might.

They married that year, and she gave birth to YY. While giving birth in the same year as marriage is not unusual, the fact that both Lan Yu and her lover were very young at the time of the birth is somewhat strange. I speculate that her lover used underhanded tactics to force the marriage: forcing Lan Yu into pregnancy before marriage, then using the child to pressure her into marriage.

As the years passed, her lover's power grew, and the temptations he faced increased exponentially. Their relationship went from passionate to lukewarm, and then from lukewarm to tense. In the last two years, her lover has repeatedly proposed divorce, which Lan Yu has refused. So, her lover started leaving early and returning late, or even not returning at all, essentially living as husband and wife in name only.

One can imagine the psychological impact on Lan Yu, going from a proud princess to a pathetic, abandoned wife. This is likely the main reason for her aversion to men and her cold, harsh nature.

Fortunately, Lan Yu didn't reject me; in fact, I felt she seemed to enjoy talking to me and being close to me. I think it's true what they say: the tougher the armor, the softer the body underneath, like a turtle's shell.

Lan Yu and I are both turtles; the difference is that beneath her shell might be a soft body, while beneath mine is a cold heart.

Among all this information, the fact that her lover had repeatedly brought up divorce in the past two years surprised me greatly.

First, this means my wife and her lover have been having an affair for at least two years. Our marriage is less than four years old, and my wife's deep-seated suspicion terrifies me.

Second, I originally thought her lover wouldn't do anything to harm her future, let alone divorce her. It seems I was too subjective and underestimated the power of love.

This both strengthened my resolve for revenge and urged me to accelerate its pace. I needed to resolve this matter before my lover successfully divorced. Otherwise, if he did, his wife would inevitably file for divorce as well. Then, I, already cuckolded, would be abandoned, which would be like adding another green feather to my already green hat, signifying that I still held a title in this green world.

On the 27th, I received information from YY that Lan Yu was going to Hainan for a four-day meeting next week.

I carefully inquired about the meeting location; it was at the ** Hotel.

The day before Lan Yu's departure, I arrived in Hainan and checked into that hotel. The hotel was by the sea; opening the window revealed the sun umbrellas on the beach, and I could smell the salty, humid air.

[The End]

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That night I slept with my wife, my lover's wife, and his daughter.

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