Don't play with fire, or you'll get burned!

This story stems from a true event I experienced myself. Although two or three years have passed, recalling it still sends chills down my spine and keeps me awake at night.

In June 2007, I started working at the Shanghai XX Court as a contract-based judicial assistant. Having a law degree, I quickly became familiar with and adept at court work. After successfully passing my probationary period, I was assigned to the enforcement division as a court clerk, nominally a judicial assistant but in reality, a court clerk. Although the salary was significantly lower than that of a regular court clerk, having chosen to work within the system, I couldn't complain too much, especially given my newcomer status and low seniority. I had no choice but to accept it.

Anyone who has worked in a court knows that the infighting within it is no less intense than, and certainly no less intense than, that of the imperial palaces of ancient times. For a newcomer like me, the priority shouldn't be scheming against others; it's about spending a few years establishing myself and protecting myself. According to some of the "veterans" (senior and senior members) in the court, for someone like me, a newcomer, to the court to have a good presiding judge is a blessing from a past life. But whether it's true that I did accumulate good karma in my past life or not, I really did meet a good presiding judge after joining the enforcement division—who is also the female protagonist of this article—Sister Rong.

Sister Rong is thirty-six years old, married with a two-year-old son. She has worked in this court for 18 years. Her husband works in another court in Shanghai as the presiding judge of the civil division. Overall, she seems to have a happy marriage, a fulfilling family life, a successful career, and no desires or wants. The reason I call her a good presiding judge is because she is exceptionally well-liked within the court. From the court president to the mailroom staff, everyone speaks highly of her; and her reputation is no less impressive, with everyone in the court praising her. She is dedicated and gives her all to her work, colleagues, superiors, and litigants.

When you first arrive in a new place, unfamiliar with everything, making mistakes is inevitable, and I was no exception.

When I first arrived at the enforcement division, there were many tasks I hadn't encountered during my probationary period, such as taking statements from litigants, taking statements from the collegial panel, and preparing reports. These seemingly trivial and unfamiliar tasks became repetitive daily duties in the enforcement division.

So, when I first started, I genuinely felt overwhelmed, and worse, I frequently made mistakes. As a result, being reprimanded by other enforcement officers and some of the more senior court staff became commonplace. It was at this most helpless moment that Sister Rong stepped forward.

She never scolded me for my mistakes, only offering kind reminders and corrections.

She patiently taught me when I made mistakes; guided me in the right direction when I was confused; and assigned others to help me complete my tasks when my workload became unbearable… until, after about half a year, I was able to handle my daily tasks independently and with ease. During that time, I received so much guidance and help from Sister Rong that I felt ashamed beyond measure, and that's why everyone in the court praised her so highly.

I had indeed followed a good judge.

One day in May of 2008, a chance event instantly transformed my simple subordinate-leader relationship with Sister Rong. It was lunchtime, and everyone in the court, big and small, was eating in the canteen. Sister Rong's three-year-old son was also there with her.

This was the first time I had seen Sister Rong's son, but I suspect others had seen him more than once, especially in the same place and setting. Almost no one seemed curious or deliberately teased the child; everything proceeded as usual. People were queuing to buy food, eating, and leaving – everything was normal. But then, an accident occurred.

Sister Rong got up to get another dish, and as she did, another court employee walked past her with a plate of food. Sister Rong couldn't react in time, and the employee couldn't dodge either; they collided. A bowl of soup on the plate, served in a small bowl, was knocked over, and unexpectedly – underneath it was Sister Rong's three-year-old son.

Seeing a bowl of scalding hot soup about to spill onto the child's delicate skin, I reacted swiftly. Sitting behind the child, I instinctively wrapped my right arm around his neck and, as if wrestling, pulled him directly into my arms. The spilled soup splattered all over my right arm and back. A gasp rippled through the cafeteria, and chaos erupted: some were concerned for the child, others for Sister Rong, and still others for me; some said to rush to the hospital, others to apply soap, and still others to put me in the cold water basin.

Because it was May in Shanghai, I was dressed lightly, and when I lifted my shirt, I found my arm and right back were a patch of red, itchy, and painful. The entire cafeteria was in chaos. The men were offering suggestions, while the women were lamenting their loss… I only vaguely remember being taken to the hospital shirtless in a court police car. The doctor seemed to have diagnosed that it wasn't quite a burn. After treatment, bandaging, and medication, I was driven straight home in the court police car and rested for two or three days. During that time, Sister Rong sent me a text message with just a few words—"Thank you! I owe you!" But I could feel the power of those words. I initially wanted to reply with something like, "You've helped me a lot too, this is nothing," but then I thought, no, Sister Rong's earnestness suggests her son is incredibly important to her.

A few days later, back at the hospital, the way my colleagues and superiors looked at me seemed different. Several close friends silently patted my left shoulder; I felt they were acknowledging my selfless act of saving someone. Upon seeing Sister Rong, she gave me a heartfelt hug, tight and tearful. I could feel the strength of that hug, and the lingering pain in my right arm and back. A benefactor?

Although I didn't want to think that way, subconsciously, I felt this unexpected event might be a blessing in disguise.

Indeed, just as I suspected, Sister Rong took great care of me in my work afterwards. She delegated some of the more tedious tasks that I used to do to others, such as interns, new assistants, or clerks.

Under Sister Rong's "guidance," I gradually learned many of our department's "internal secrets," such as the vice-dean being a very flirtatious old woman, the long-time employee in the reception office having never been promoted because he had offended the dean, and the fact that some people in the department didn't get along with Sister Rong and were waiting to see her fail. In short, besides helping and facilitating my work, Sister Rong also revealed many "exclusive private" pieces of information that I would normally have needed much longer to learn.

A little over a month after I recovered from my injuries, on August 7th, Sister Rong invited me to her home for dinner. She said it was her son's fourth birthday, and it was also a formal way of thanking me for being injured while saving her son.

I gladly accepted. Her home was a two-bedroom apartment, and her son still slept with her and her husband. It was the first time I had seen her husband; aside from his work background, he seemed like an average person—gentle and refined. Sister Rong had cooked dinner, and the birthday boy was overjoyed to see me, as if he had seen an Ultraman toy. He probably still remembered the injury I had sustained for him a few months earlier.

The birthday boy pulled me to sit down, and Sister Rong and her husband warmly served me food. At the same time, Sister Rong introduced him to her husband, saying things like, "This is the little guy I told you about who saved our son last year, the one who came to our neighborhood last year," and so on. I ate my food while quietly agreeing with him.

As we were eating, a QQ message came from the inner room. Sister Rong calmly put down her chopsticks and strolled into the room. Her husband smiled awkwardly at me from the table and continued eating. I could only grimace and continue eating. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the birthday boy's brows were slightly furrowed, as if he was thinking about something.

Five minutes passed, and Sister Rong was still in the inner room. Her husband called out, and Sister Rong responded. Ten minutes passed, and Sister Rong still hadn't come out. I could faintly hear the crisp "click" of fingers tapping on a keyboard. Sister Rong's husband got up and walked to the door. He called out in a low voice at the doorway, clearly suppressing his rising anger. I guessed that this had probably happened many times before, but today, because I was a guest, he couldn't lash out. Judging from Sister Rong's nonchalant departure after hearing the QQ message notification, it seemed to be a long-established conditioned reflex. After

I finished thinking, Sister Rong still didn't come out, nor did she respond. Her husband seemed to have reached his limit. He pushed open the door and went straight in, closing it slightly behind him. The birthday boy next to me pulled me aside and said, "They're about to argue." Before I could even wonder, I heard a rapid conversation coming from the inner room. It went something like this: Husband: "Who are you chatting with again?!" Rongjie: "Who said we're chatting? We're talking about business." Husband: "Talking about business? You're talking about business so much you don't eat or sleep at night?!" Rongjie: "What are you talking about? Get out of here, I'll be done soon!" Husband: "I'm telling you, stop messing around, or I'll see what you do to you!" Rongjie: "What did you say?! You'll do something to me?! What right do you have?! I'm telling you, leave me alone!" Husband: "Leave you alone?! If I don't leave you alone, I don't know what will happen to our son! Look what you've done to him! If he hadn't been rescued, the consequences would have been unimaginable! Have you fulfilled your responsibilities as a mother?!

Huh?!"

Rongjie: "This time it was an accident! No matter what, I don't want anything to happen to my son!" Husband: "This time it was an accident? Okay, okay, then let me ask you, where were you when he was sick before? Ah!"

"

When you talk business, you're always talking to strangers!"

Sister Rong: "Yes, I was wrong that time, but if you hadn't locked the computer, I wouldn't have gotten into this mess." Husband: "You have the nerve to say I locked the computer?! Fine, fine, you go out to eat now, and I'll throw this computer away, just you wait!" After the room quieted down, I had almost finished eating. The birthday boy sat there silently, and it was clear he was used to it. A little while later, Sister Rong and her husband came out. I immediately got up and carefully made up an excuse to leave. Sister Rong and her husband both looked rather unhappy, probably because of the big argument earlier, so they didn't try to keep me. After saying goodbye to the birthday boy, Sister Rong saw me out the door.

On the stairs, Sister Rong apologized repeatedly, saying I had been rude. I repeatedly assured her it was alright, and she seemed a little more at ease. On the way to the station, Sister Rong put her arm around my shoulder, like a buddy, and talked to me about her family as we walked.

It turns out that Rongjie's marriage was an arranged one. It's hard to imagine that a legal professional couldn't assert her right to choose her own spouse. Her parents arranged her current husband, believing they were a good match. Rongjie, burdened by work and unable to focus on anything else, missed her prime age for finding a partner. Desperate to marry and raise children, she registered her marriage without much thought.

Shortly after, her son was born. However, Rongjie discovered that her husband was utterly unromantic, rigid, and inflexible (I suspect this is related to their positions; civil court staff tend to be more rule-abiding, while enforcement court staff are more tactful and adaptable). At home, they mostly talked about work, rarely asking about Rongjie's needs—whether practical, emotional, or physical.

Rongjie had almost no emotional connection with him; her first love seemed to be a more vivid memory. If it weren't for the birth of her son, perhaps she would have gritted her teeth and simply divorced him.

She loves her son, and his birth has temporarily mended the cracks in her marriage. But what happened today wasn't the first time; it had already occurred when even her son couldn't mend the rift. The culprit was QQ, specifically a certain man on QQ. When talking about this man, Sister Rong's face was full of longing, as if she were reminiscing about her first love.

She said he was a few years younger than her, but spoke with a mature air; they shared a common worldview, values, and outlook on life; they had common hobbies, shared interests, and could communicate easily—in short, they were very compatible. Sister Rong said she had known him for over six months, and if she could, she would be willing to abandon her family and be with him. The main reason she hadn't acted on it until now was due to work and her child. She said that the saddest thing in life is not being able to decide one's own path and destiny. Too many burdens bind us, preventing us from acting according to our truest desires… On the bus, as it drove along, I looked out the window, thinking about Sister Rong. Sister Rong is thirty-seven this year, married with a four-year-old son. Her husband is faithful; her marriage isn't perfect, but it's stable. Her family isn't exactly happy, but it's peaceful. She has a job, no worries about food or clothing, and has no desires or wants… For a state that lasts only six months and is more like an intangible feeling, she's willing to give up everything she has to try and grasp it. I don't know how to evaluate such a concept. Perhaps without experiencing it firsthand, one has no right to judge. Sister Rong is just an ordinary woman.

The next day at work, I noticed something was wrong with Sister Rong: her eyes were noticeably red and swollen, her face was somewhat puffy, and she seemed a bit dazed and out of sorts. If it weren't for the fact that the presiding judge could appropriately waive participation in grassroots enforcement work, her condition would obviously have been subject to criticism.

During my lunch break, I stopped her and asked what had happened. She told me everything—after seeing me off home the previous night, she went straight home, only to find her husband had completely dismantled the computer and then had a full-blown fight with her that night.

Although he hadn't hit her hard, it wasn't light either; if she hadn't been wearing a uniform, the bloodstains would have been clearly visible. Her husband had given her an ultimatum: never chat on QQ again, at least not with that man anymore—no room for negotiation… Sister Rong cried all night, her eyes swollen and red, because of love and hate—hate for her husband and the QQ man. After she finished speaking, Sister Rong burst into tears again, hugging me and crying uncontrollably, as if all the world's grievances were concentrated on her. I finally understood what a heartbroken person looked like. I clung to her like a buddy; her body was soft and fragrant.

Watching her cling to my shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, I sighed. Indeed, although Sister Rong was the head of our court's enforcement division, earning nearly ten thousand yuan a month and wielding considerable power, she was, in reality, just an ordinary woman.

As the saying goes, secrets can't stay hidden forever. It wasn't long before news of Sister Rong's suspected extramarital affair reached the ears of the court president and his colleagues—of course, someone had snitched on her.

And naturally, Sister Rong received a severe scolding. After criticism, education, self-criticism, repentance, promises, and oaths of self-reflection, Sister Rong, like a tender shoot battered by frost, returned to work, and within a short time, she was back to her old self, radiant and full of energy. But those who knew her knew that Sister Rong was putting on a brave face.

And subsequent events proved this to be true, echoing the old saying—"Either you explode in silence, or you die in silence!"

Then came the busiest time of the year for the court: the end of the year. All cases, big and small, must be resolved before the end of the year; all meetings, big and small, must be held before the end of the year; all leaders, big and small, must assign their requirements to you before the end of the year; all instructions, directives, plans, summaries, approvals, letters, notices, and directions and goals for the coming year must be communicated before the end of the year. The workload is truly staggering.

Fortunately, having work filled the void in my heart. During this time, Sister Rong seemed like a different person, completely different from the woman who cried on my shoulder. She was capable, concise, energetic, and decisive. Her reputation remained among the best in the entire court, although some meddlesome colleagues would add a "but" when introducing her to newcomers—"But, her family situation is problematic, and I heard she's into online dating." Luckily, Sister Rong had a solid foundation of support, which prevented her from being defeated by such rumors; otherwise, she probably wouldn't have been able to endure in this gossip-ridden place. I thought that after these minor setbacks and turmoil, life would return to normal, but little did I know that the real drama was just beginning.

After finishing the busy work at the end of 2008, the court, according to tradition, held a year-end dinner to celebrate the completion of the year's work and to prepare for the Spring Festival two months later. Everyone in our court, except for those who were truly too busy, attended. I regretted missing the event in 2007 due to some personal family matters, and since I'm not one of those people who's always incredibly busy, I was really looking forward to it this time and went with great enthusiasm.

Most of the attendees were people I see regularly—court presidents, political officials, and even the rather sassy vice-president. After taking my seat, I saw Sister Rong laughing and talking at the president's table. Not wearing her uniform, Sister Rong was dressed very young that day, wearing a thin, fitted wool sweater, slim-fit jeans, and about five-centimeter heels. She wore light makeup, and a thick down jacket and a delicate small handbag hung on the back of her chair.

I then realized that Sister Rong was very feminine—gentle and thoughtful. Although not strikingly beautiful, she exuded a mature woman's charm and allure. Even with only light makeup, she effectively concealed the few freckles and the slight imperfections in her skin, achieving a fresh and elegant look that was just right. Her form-fitting clothes accentuated her full figure, befitting a mother. Of course, she had a slight tummy, but overall, it didn't detract from her beauty.

In my opinion, she outshone many mature women and rivaled a young married woman. Just then, Sister Rong suddenly fixed her gaze on me, a smile playing on her lips. She raised her wine glass, and I understood, raising my own glass in return for a toast. The banquet was lively. There were humorous speeches from the dean, witty retorts from the presiding judge, and some junior colleagues who weren't usually so outspoken being teased by the older folks. Several talented individuals even performed stand-up comedy, creating a harmonious atmosphere. The drinking enthusiasts took the opportunity to toast, play drinking games, and drink with everyone.

We, the assistant judges, didn't dare to overstep our bounds due to our positions, simply echoing their sentiments. I ate and observed, getting a glimpse of a different side of them that I wouldn't normally see. Just then, Sister Rong staggered over to our table, slurring her words as she recounted how I had saved her son a few months ago. She insisted on toasting me, clearly quite drunk.

The hospital director was supporting her, worried she might fall. Since our table was mostly filled with younger people, upon seeing the director helping Sister Rong over to offer a toast, everyone immediately stood up, raising their glasses and respectfully downing their drinks first. Sister Rong, being generous, downed hers in one gulp. She then picked up the half-empty bottle of red wine on our table, refilled it, and said she wanted to toast me separately. I couldn't refuse, so I drank it down with her. After finishing her drink, she slowly put down her glass, swayed slightly, patted my shoulder, and gently asked,

"Is your injury alright?"

Her touch sent a jolt through me. Slightly drunk, Sister Rong's face was radiant, her skin fair and rosy, her eyes alluring, her breath sweet and fragrant. Her lips, glistening with lipstick and moistened by the wine, appeared even more luscious… Just as I was feeling awkward and unsure what to do, Sister Rong suddenly swayed violently, pushed me away, covered her mouth, and ran towards the door. The director laughed,

"Too much drinking, too much drinking, she threw up."

I was stunned by the scene and couldn't move, watching Sister Rong run towards the door. I just stood there, frozen.

"I'll go check on her, you guys continue," came the director's voice.

He then walked away. After sitting down, the scene kept replaying in my mind. Perhaps it's true that young women of her age can unintentionally capture the hearts of young, normal men. A short while later, Sister Rong returned, supported by the dean. The dean helped her directly to our table and instructed her,

"Don't drink anymore. Sit here, closer to the door, less crowded, get some fresh air. You guys keep an eye on her, don't let her drink anymore." After ordering a pot of tea, the dean left. Sister Rong sat down next to me, her head resting on the table. She smelled of alcohol, and also had a familiar fragrance.

She lay there quietly, her full breasts rising and falling, indicating her even and steady breathing. Her slightly protruding belly, besides indicating she was a mother, also showed that she had really drunk a lot that day. She had some freckles on her face, if you looked closely. But the skin on her neck was very good, fine and smooth, and I imagined that her full breasts under her clothes must also be flawless. Her legs, encased in slim-fit jeans, were long and shapely, and I imagined that her lower body was also fair and firm, without an ounce of excess fat. Looking at my colleagues, superiors, mentors, and friends—including Sister Rong—slumped beside me, I was overcome with a lewd thought… I grabbed a glass of red wine and downed it in one gulp, managing to calm my agitated emotions somewhat.

Around ten o'clock that night, the banquet ended, and Sister Rong was probably asleep. Everyone said their goodbyes; those with plans went to complete them, those with appointments went to theirs, and the rest dispersed. The dean came over and pulled me aside, saying, “Sister Rong’s husband is away on a business trip these past few days. She can’t go home on her own in this state. Could you please take her home?” I readily agreed. Afterwards, I found it strange that the dean was so certain I would know Sister Rong’s address. Everyone hurriedly lifted Sister Rong into a taxi. She was probably really drunk; aside from babbling incoherently, she showed no other reaction. Finally, the dean let go, saying, “Phew, what happened? She drank so much. She wasn’t like this before.” He complained as he prepared to leave.

I got into a taxi, said goodbye to everyone, gave the driver my address, and the car sped away. The streetlights were just coming on, and all three of us in the car remained silent. We soon arrived at Sister Rong's house. I helped her into the building, took her keys, and opened the door. The house was pitch black. I casually asked her where her son was. Sister Rong seemed half-drunk, vaguely saying something like her son was at his grandmother's house, followed by a string of incomprehensible words.

I carried her to bed and, like in the movies, prepared hot water, a towel, and hot tea to help her sober up. After drinking some tea, Sister Rong seemed to fall asleep completely. I took off her shoes and her coat, which was stained with vomit. She cooperated well, not making a sound. However, when I covered her with the blanket, I hesitated: should I take off her sweater and jeans? I knew that if she took off her sweater and jeans, I would definitely be able to see her mature body underneath, and those two alluring breasts that I loved so much… I shook my head frantically, covered Rong-jie with the blanket, and then went to change the hot towel on her forehead. While washing the towel, Rong-jie's naked body was still flashing through my mind, and I discovered that I actually had an erection. My breathing quickened, and my blood pressure rose slightly. After wringing out the towel, when I returned to Rong-jie's room, I found her "awake," sitting on the bed with her legs drawn up, staring blankly ahead.

"Rong-jie, you're awake?" I asked.

"…" Rong-jie didn't answer.

"You were drunk earlier, the director asked me to bring you back," I continued, casually handing her the hot towel.

"…" Rong-jie still didn't answer, and didn't take the towel.

I then realized that although Sister Rong was sitting with her eyes open, her expression was blank, more like she was "sleeping with her eyes open." I gently tugged at her, and sure enough, she fell straight towards me, but at the same time, she burst into tears, crying, "Where did you go? It's not that I didn't want to look for you, it's that I couldn't look for you." "No, no, I love you, you have to believe me." "I have no feelings for him anymore. For you, I can give up everything and go with you." "..." Then came a jumble of incoherent fragments, and because of her drunkenness, Sister Rong's words were often mumbled incoherently, making them impossible for others to understand. As she cried and spoke, I could only hold her and let her cry. After crying for a while, perhaps feeling uncomfortable, Sister Rong changed her position and lay in my arms. I called, "Sister Rong, Sister Rong," and she only responded incoherently, probably still half-drunk.

This left me completely bewildered: a mature, voluptuous body lay in the arms of a normal, healthy young man—the mature body half-drunk, half-awake, with bare flesh beneath her clothes; the young man, in his prime, could remove his clothes without anyone noticing… Rong-

jie's breath tickled my arm, making my hairs stand on end. I instinctively pinched Rong-jie's shoulder, unsure whether it was an irresistible urge to rub against her or to confirm if she was truly asleep. At that moment, I felt that Rong-jie's position in my arms meant her arm was directly touching my genitals, and of course, I was fully erect.

Looking at Rong-jie, I saw a smile playing on her lips, whether she was secretly pleased with my naiveté or mocking my boldness… Finally, as if having made up my mind, I tentatively kissed Rong-jie's lips, and this kiss sealed the fate of the matter. Whether it was because Rongjie dreamt her ideal man had arrived or for some other reason, when I kissed her, Rongjie not only didn't resist at all, but responded passionately!

She actively sought my mouth with her fragrant tongue, our lips met, our tongues intertwined, and saliva flowed freely.

Rongjie's tongue was soft, and her saliva tasted sweet—it was wonderful. We excitedly embraced each other, our noses touching, our heads swinging wildly from side to side like pendulums, all for the sake of closer contact.

I kissed Rongjie passionately from her lips down to her fair neck, where the skin was incredibly smooth and exuded the unique scent of a mature woman; Rongjie, in turn, tilted her head back, looking completely intoxicated and alluring.

Strike while the iron is hot, she teased my desire, and I tore at her clothes. After tearing off her sweater and jeans, I found that, as I had expected, the mature woman's body was dazzlingly white and incomparably alluring. I kissed Rongjie's entire body frantically, roughly kneading her two full breasts, greedily sucking, nibbling, and biting, as if trying to tear them away from her and possess them forever.

Rongjie was clearly aroused by my actions; she hooked her legs tightly around my buttocks, desperately trying to touch my erect penis with her genitals, letting out disordered low growls like a snake. I kissed my way down, circling my tongue around Rongjie's thighs and groin, gently, rhythmically, torturing her. Rongjie was clearly powerless against this, constantly twisting her waist, her chest heaving up and down, like a female leopard in heat under the soft yellow light of the room. As I circled, I ravaged Rongjie's beautiful breasts; her nipples were already proudly erect, brownish, like ripe and plump peanuts, incredibly alluring.

As I thrust in for the third time, Sister Rong deliberately suppressed her moans, biting her delicate lips, and reached her first orgasm. With the continuous contractions of her vaginal opening and the spasms of her abdomen, milky white vaginal fluid gushed out, while Sister Rong tightly closed her beautiful eyes, stretched her neck, and struggled to regulate her breathing. After three waves of vaginal fluid, Sister Rong gradually calmed down. Just as I was preparing for the next assault, Sister Rong suddenly burst into tears without warning. I panicked, wondering if I had misunderstood and caused a disaster.

"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong? I'm sorry."

"I miss you, where are you?"

"Do you know how tired I've been these past few months? I'm so tired..." Sister Rong rambled on, crying under the influence of alcohol.

"I'm really about to collapse, come save me."

I was stunned. It was indeed as I had suspected; Sister Rong had been enduring these past few months with great difficulty. And this outburst was a release of the pressure accumulated over the past few months, fueled by alcohol. Since Rongjie's husband dismantled her computer in August, she had probably had little contact with her QQ boyfriend, so she had nowhere to vent her stress and no one to express her emotions. Today, she finally snapped… Suddenly, I felt boundless pity for the woman lying naked in front of me. I gently cupped Rongjie's tear-streaked face and carefully kissed her. Rongjie seemed to sense something and gently searched for me. Then, we embraced deeply again. After what felt like a long time, I gently placed her on the bed, pulled down my pants, took out my already aroused penis, and slowly thrust it into Rongjie's vagina.

Rongjie seemed to have been anticipating this for a long time. Although her eyes were still tightly closed, she let out a pleasurable moan: "Hoo…" Just that one sound was enough to make any man succumb. I held her legs and began a series of shallow and deep thrusts. Rongjie's vagina was slightly loose, but very well-maintained, a deep red color, and her pubic hair was trimmed into a thin line. After more than two hundred thrusts, Rong Jie arched her body violently, climaxing for the second time. I withdrew from Rong Jie's body, catching her fluids in my mouth and mischievously licking her labia majora and minora with my tongue, causing her to moan continuously, some of which sounded like animalistic growls emanating from within.

Looking at Rong Jie's flushed face, I entered her again, and Rong Jie seemed to enjoy the feeling, her legs tightly gripping my waist, her lower body almost lifting off the bed, a position that allowed me to penetrate even deeper. So I worked harder to explore the lustful beast before me. After more than three hundred final thrusts, I held Rong Jie tightly, and with a moan escaping from her throat, I released my pent-up desire, reaching the peak together with Rong Jie… Throughout the entire ordeal, Rong Jie only moaned softly and never opened her eyes. Afterwards, as I dressed, I tentatively called her name, not knowing what I wanted to confirm, what I wanted to explain? Should I check if she was really asleep? Should I try again? I was completely confused. When I finished dressing and looked at Sister Rong on the bed, she simply turned over meaningfully and then remained still, her breathing so light it was almost inaudible. Maybe Sister Rong was actually asleep? I didn't know. I only knew I had to go.

After quickly tidying up, I closed the door and left Sister Rong's house. On my way to the station, I received a text message from Sister Rong: "I'm returning your... I feel much better." It turned out Sister Rong was indeed awake; she knew it was me, and she was still upset about my injury. On the train, I received another text message from Sister Rong: "Don't overthink it. Our department is evaluating outstanding employees starting next month. Don't hold me back; I'm still your boss." Outside the window, the night was deep and quiet. Indeed, Sister Rong was my boss, and always would be.

At the beginning of 2009, the entire court launched a vigorous campaign to select outstanding units, conducted by each division, with the finance department and document department listed separately. The campaign lasted six months, with results announced on June 10th. The heads of the divisions selected for excellence were expected to be promoted, meaning a salary increase. Our division was naturally led by Sister Rong, and everyone in our enforcement division had only one belief at that moment: to strive for excellence.

Since the Chinese New Year was in February, Sister Rong's plan for the month or so before the holiday was primarily preparation, so that she could work without worries after the New Year. This arrangement had two advantages: first, because the New Year was approaching, everyone was focused on the holiday after completing their current tasks, so it wasn't appropriate to assign more work; second, everyone had been busy all year and needed a good rest to have the motivation to better complete future work. We all unanimously approved of this arrangement.

As for what happened between Rongjie and me that night, neither of us mentioned it again afterward. It vanished like smoke in the wind, leaving no trace. Rongjie's spirits improved day by day. When I asked her what good thing had happened, she simply said, "My spring has arrived," and then smiled without saying anything more. I couldn't guess what kind of spring it was, but I was happy that Rongjie had recovered from that setback.

After finishing my work and receiving Rongjie's guidance on the specific issues I would encounter in this year's competition for advancement, the New Year arrived quickly.

On the third day of the New Year, I visited Rongjie's home to offer my greetings. Rongjie was quite surprised by my arrival, but her subsequent behavior was quite natural. Her son was very enthusiastic towards me, the little guy jumping around excitedly. However, the relationship between Rongjie and her husband was truly unsatisfactory. They barely spoke, always giving each other the cold shoulder, and her husband seemed more like a balloon that could burst at any moment.

Rongjie only showed a smile and gentleness rarely seen at home when she was with me or her son. I felt somewhat ashamed, because that night, and I vaguely felt that I might have been the culprit behind the cold war between Sister Rong and her husband. Of course, I hoped this was just my own conjecture. Sister Rong's son seemed to have already gotten used to this environment, still clinging to me with laughter, ignoring his parents' confrontation.

After returning to work after the New Year, everyone in our enforcement division seemed to be on edge, carrying out double the work under Sister Rong's almost demanding requirements: one was our regular job, and the other was striving for excellence. However, unlike our colleagues in other divisions, we didn't complain, because we were more willing to work hard for Sister Rong. Besides improving ourselves, we were also helping our respected leader, so there was no loss in it.

And our division also had the best chance of winning this competition for excellence. Whether in terms of team spirit, work content, or completion rate and positive feedback, we were far ahead. Sister Rong's way of dealing with people also meant that the heads and staff of the other lagging divisions didn't feel jealous or resentful; they only conceded defeat.

Only one person was quite dismissive of this, and that was the person Sister Rong had mentioned before who harbored hostility towards her and was waiting to see her make a fool of herself—Old Shen, the head of the document department.

Old Shen was definitely a veteran of our court; calling him an "elder" was no exaggeration. He had served the XX court for over thirty years and was currently 55 years old.

According to Sister Rong, although he had served for a long time, his rank had never been high, and his salary had always been around three to four thousand yuan. As he got older, his chances of being on the front lines of trials were virtually zero. The

reason Old Shen was at odds with Sister Rong was because he lost a promotion competition, a situation that persisted to this day.

In fact, according to other "elders" who participated in the competition, Sister Rong's promotion was the popular choice, and Old Shen was actually overestimating himself. But regardless, the feud between Sister Rong and Old Shen was now firmly established.

In April 2009, two months before the results of the awards were announced, our court's advantage was becoming increasingly apparent. The document department led by Lao Shen, who ranked second, was lagging far behind, and statistically, they were incomparable to our court. Sister Rong's spirits were also rising. While everyone was happy for her true "resurrection," a chance encounter revealed the real reason for her "resurrection." That day, Sister Rong left work early, and after explaining what we needed to do, she left the hospital alone. I saw her off and went out to make tea. When I returned, I found Sister Rong's phone on her desk. Without thinking, I grabbed it and rushed out.

After quickly crossing the overpass (which was under construction near our courthouse at the time, and the overpass was the only way out), I saw Sister Rong and a man walking side-by-side in the distance. Without giving it much thought, I rushed after them, catching up to them about a hundred meters from the overpass. I didn't recognize the man; he was young, around my age, with handsome features—large eyes, a straight nose, and a tall, upright figure. When Sister Rong saw me, she pulled me aside, her face beaming with happiness, and said,

"Remember that guy on QQ I told you about? That's him." Sister Rong's frankness left me speechless. I stared at the QQ guy in front of me, unsure how to greet him.

"Hey, what brings you here?" Sister Rong noticed the awkwardness.

"Oh, oh, right, you forgot your phone," I replied sheepishly, handing her my phone.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just leave it there. I don't need to contact anyone anyway," Sister Rong said nonchalantly.

"..." I was speechless again.

"Alright, I've got it. You should go back now. There's no overtime pay for working overtime," Sister Rong joked, taking the phone.

Back at the court, I thought about the situation carefully and understood some things. It was because of this QQ man that Sister Rong regained her youth and high spirits; it was also this QQ man that made Sister Rong completely indifferent to her husband; and her slightly loose lower body could perhaps be attributed to this QQ man's diligent efforts.

There were only 10 days left until the results were announced. During this period, the presiding judges of the top three courts were required to undergo review and questioning according to the rules—essentially a summary interview. The review was conducted in the order of third, second, and first place, and Sister Rong was scheduled for June 3rd. Life, which seemed to be progressing normally, took an unexpected turn, like a movie, bringing a climax to the entire event!

On June 1st, Sister Rong did not appear at her post. The Political Department and the Dean of the Court were also unsure of her whereabouts. However, given the Dean's special status, it was common for him to miss a day at the court, so no one paid much attention; they simply knew that Sister Rong hadn't come to work that day. Strangely, Sister Rong still didn't appear at her post the next day.

At this point, the court leaders frowned. According to regulations, if an absence was due to official business, it should be recorded and reported. Such unauthorized absence without notification would be considered a serious offense. Sister Rong, as a long-serving "veteran," shouldn't have made such a basic mistake, especially since the next day was the day she would be investigated.

The Political Department began searching everywhere, using cell phones, landlines, and pagers, but to no avail: no one answered the cell phones; no one answered the landlines; no one answered the pagers. This alarmed everyone. Those of us who studied law are prone to this: if someone disappears without a trace for 48 hours, we start considering reporting them missing to the police. The court leaders pooled their wisdom and efforts to find Sister Rong. Someone suggested calling her husband to ask where she was, as he also worked in the court system and would be easy to find.

So the leaders contacted the court where her husband worked, and the answer shocked us all: he hadn't been to work for several days either! We all fell silent. I could tell that we weren't just trying to figure things out, but were completely stumped.

Early on June 3rd, I rushed into the familiar XX Court, unsure whether I wanted to see if Sister Rong had come to work or because of a bad feeling—after returning home the previous night, I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, thinking about everything about Sister Rong. I felt she was definitely not the type to leave without saying goodbye, unless… unless she really had run off with that QQ guy—anyway, I wanted an answer, and I felt that today would bring an answer. When I met a colleague I was on good terms with, the first thing I heard from him was, "Sister Rong committed suicide!" Sister Rong committed suicide! I could hardly believe my ears.

"Impossible!" I roared.

"It's true, everyone in the hospital knows now. It seems the body was found last night." He said solemnly.

"..."

That morning, none of our hospital staff worked; instead, we were all gathered in the largest conference room for a meeting. The director announced Rong's death, but made no mention of anything else, only saying that the police were still investigating. I knew that even if the investigation were completed later, someone of my rank wouldn't be able to get the whole story directly from them.

The hospital's awards for outstanding employees were temporarily suspended. Old Shen, the head of the copywriting department who came in second, was still striving for first place, but he was more low-key than before. He expressed his regret over Rong's death, but I could tell it was just crocodile tears.

A few days later, I learned another shocking piece of news from others—Rong's son had also died from illness, and had predeceased Rong; and Rong's husband had been detained on charges of intentional homicide!

This was such a bizarre thing! Rong's son died first, from illness, and then Rong herself inexplicably committed suicide. And her husband, the presiding judge of the civil division of the XX court, was criminally detained by the police for intentional homicide!

It was utterly incomprehensible. I continued to press him for details, but was told that this was all he knew so far,

and I had to give up. For the next few days, everyone in the court was in a state of depression, mostly grieving Rong's death, and some fearing a greater catastrophe might befall them. I, too, was in a daze because of Rong's death, completely out of sorts, and thus made many mistakes, earning a torrent of abuse from some of the "older" staff.

After struggling for several days, I decided to resign. I couldn't bear the thought of looking up and seeing only the empty space beside Sister Rong's desk; of being reprimanded and having no one from Sister Rong to defend me; of thinking of Sister Rong and looking around, but no longer being able to feel her voice, her movements, her figure, or even her scent… That day, as I was packing to leave, I happened to run into the director and several police officers who came to clean up Sister Rong's desk, which had remained untouched since her death. The desk was locked, and after some effort, they pried it open and took everything useful: some documents, a notebook that looked like a diary, and Sister Rong's cell phone. I thought that Sister Rong probably hadn't taken her phone with her when she left work on May 31st, and had switched it to vibrate mode, which is why we never answered her calls afterward. Before leaving, I asked a close friend in the hospital to contact me immediately if he had any news about Sister Rong, and he readily agreed.

After returning home, I rested for several days. The past two years of work had truly exhausted me, and Rongjie's death only added to my despair. So, once I lay down, I fell asleep immediately. When I woke up, I vaguely felt I saw Rongjie in my dream; she said something to me, but I couldn't hear clearly.

One evening in July, my friend from the court called, saying that Lao Shen from the document department had been "suggested" (actually "ordered") to retire early by the court. Then, from the phone call, I learned the whole story—on the evening of May 31, 2009, after work, Rongjie met a man on QQ. They had dinner together and agreed to buy toys for Rongjie's son as a Children's Day gift the next day. They acted like a couple, shopping, eating, going to the mall, watching movies, etc.

At that moment, Rongjie was unaware that her son had developed acute myocarditis due to a cold and was in the hospital undergoing emergency treatment. Her husband couldn't contact her because Rongjie had put her phone in her desk and put it on vibrate. When Sister Rong returned home late at night, she learned of her son's condition from the community security guard. Because it was so late and the situation was urgent, she didn't hesitate and had the man she contacted on QQ escort her straight to the hospital.

Although Sister Rong arrived quickly, it was too late. Due to the severity of his condition and his weakened state, her son succumbed to his illness. Sister Rong's son was dead; she didn't even get to see him one last time. Her husband stood in the corridor, sobbing uncontrollably. Her grandparents, uncles, aunts, and other relatives were also ashen-faced, weeping beside her. Sister Rong

went to her son's bedside, which was already covered with a white sheet, knelt down, and wept bitterly, while the doctors performed the final procedures. The man on QQ, whether out of youthful naiveté or genuine belief that he was Sister Rong's only man, went straight into the ward to comfort her.

This act inevitably led to his heavy price – Rongjie's husband, now like a ravenous beast, his eyes bloodshot, a far cry from his usual gentle demeanor, stormed into the ward in extreme rage and began fighting with the QQ man. Doctors and nurses rushed to intervene. During the struggle, Rongjie's husband grabbed a used scalpel from the surgical tray beside him and plunged it straight into the QQ man's chest. Blood gushed out immediately. The nurses were terrified and at a loss. Rongjie, supporting the QQ man, screamed, equally bewildered.

Rongjie's husband stood frozen, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the QQ man lying in a pool of blood, panting heavily, unable to believe what he was seeing. Most of their relatives were stunned; the few who reacted only cried and screamed in incomprehensible words. Doctors rushed to resuscitate the man and called the police. The police arrived quickly, taking away Rongjie's husband and several relatives. They intended to take Rongjie with them for questioning, but she had already collapsed from exhaustion due to the multiple blows she had suffered. The police had no choice but to leave her at the hospital for treatment. It was June 1st, Children's Day. On

June 2nd, Rongjie woke up, lying stiffly in bed. She wouldn't answer the nurses' questions, wouldn't eat, and spent much of the day simply weeping alone. The nurses who knew her were silently heartbroken, and her family members offered only quiet comfort. According to the nurses, Rongjie kept her eyes open almost the entire day, seemingly unable to blink, a heartbreaking sight.

Because the incident happened so suddenly, no one knew the identities of Rongjie, her husband, or the man. When questioned by medical staff, Rongjie and her relatives remained silent, making it impossible to contact their workplaces. The police, too, found nothing: Rong's husband, perhaps because it was his first time experiencing something like this, remained stunned; the relatives who went with her could only say they worked at the court, but couldn't provide details about which court or what their jobs were. This explained why we couldn't contact them, and they couldn't contact us.

Rong's death occurred at 11 PM on June 2nd; she jumped directly from the hospital roof. Although the hospital immediately attempted resuscitation, due to ruptured internal organs, massive bleeding in multiple organs, and fractures throughout her body, she ultimately died. I think Rong probably made this decision in a single day. During the day, she wept for her son, for her boyfriend, for her husband whom she didn't love but deeply loved, and for her own death. She chose death; it was her decision, her choice, and she should die without hesitation, without pain.

News of Rong's death quickly reached her husband and the police; her husband immediately fainted.

This time, the public security authorities dared not be negligent and monitored the entire process of her being taken to the hospital for treatment, fearing another suicide attempt. After Rongjie's husband woke up, he confessed everything he knew.

On the other hand, the real reason for Lao Shen, the head of the document department, taking early retirement added a dramatic dimension to the entire incident.

After Rongjie's death, the court cooperated with the police investigation while transferring and handing over Rongjie's work. At the same time, the court's competition for advanced personnel was restarted. Although the execution division where Rongjie worked had ranked first before her death, the court considered that Rongjie's death was due to suicide, and that further honors would have a negative impact. Therefore, the execution division was disqualified from the advanced personnel award, and the vacancy was filled by a unit that ranked lower.

As a result, Lao Shen's copywriting department naturally rose to first place. Through Lao Shen's "communication" with everyone around him, coupled with his existing seniority, he successfully won first place in the awards ceremony and rightfully earned a promotion. However, fate intervened. Just as Lao Shen was gloating and awaiting the award ceremony, a middle-aged woman claiming to be the mother of a male QQ user came to the office, insisting she was a distant relative of Lao Shen and had been deceived by him, losing her son in the process. The office took this matter very seriously because it was connected to Sister Rong's case. After a thorough investigation, Lao Shen, under pressure, confessed everything.

It turns out that the woman was from the same village as Lao Shen, sharing the same surname. In some rural areas, there are villages with the same surname, such as Wangjia Village and Zhaojia Village. Lao Shen and the woman were both from Luojia Village in X Township. Lao Shen explained that his father died early when he was young, and his mother took him away from Luojia Village and remarried a man with the surname Shen. Because Lao Shen was still young at the time, his mother simply changed his surname, abandoning Luo for Shen.

The woman was indeed the mother of QQ Man, whose real name was Mu Zi, 30 years old. Having studied agriculture in university, he stayed in the village after graduation, helping with the village and township land management departments, and had always lived in Luojia Village. The woman came to the hospital because she received a call from the hospital that had given Mu Zi emergency treatment in the early morning of June 1st, only to learn that her son had died near the end of June despite all efforts to save him.

And Mu Zi's departure from the village was Lao Shen's doing. It turns out that Lao Shen had already contacted Mu Zi before the Spring Festival of 2008. Taking advantage of his past as a resident of Luojia Village, Lao Shen cultivated a close relationship with Mu Zi. During the Spring Festival holiday, Lao Shen made a special trip back to Luojia Village, ostensibly to visit his hometown, but actually to see Mu Zi. It was during this trip that Lao Shen revealed his entire plan to Mu Zi—how to use a third party to interfere in Rong Jie's family life, distracting her from her work and creating an opportunity for him. He promised to cover all expenses and provide a huge reward afterward.

Mu Zi agreed, and Lao Shen gave him Rong Jie's phone number and contact information, allowing Mu Zi to gradually enter Rong Jie's life as a stranger. As the only college student in the village, Mu Zi easily won the heart of a young woman deprived of true love. Mu Zi not only successfully entered Rong Jie's life but also taught her how to use a computer to access the internet, log into QQ, and chat online.

Mu Zi's mother witnessed everything, but how could a rural woman understand the wicked dealings between Lao Shen and her son? She only thought the two were discussing important matters, and that her son was getting paid. Moreover, she had seen Lao Shen when she was young, so although she didn't understand, she still went along with it. The reason Lao Shen brought Mu Zi to Shanghai in early 2009, provided her with job opportunities, and gave her a monthly cash subsidy was twofold. First, Rong Jie's husband, unable to tolerate Rong Jie's online chatting any longer, dismantled the computer. This prevented Mu Zi from "confessing his feelings" to Rong Jie online, thus preventing him from fulfilling the mission Lao Shen had assigned him.

However, Rongjie's husband's actions ironically benefited Lao Shen. Rongjie's subsequent "online affair" drew criticism from the hospital leadership, all thanks to Lao Shen's tattling. Secondly, it gave him an advantage in the 2009 awards competition—Lao Shen planned to use Mu Zi's direct contact with Rongjie to wear her down, preventing her from focusing on work and family, creating a predicament that would ultimately help him gain recognition and promotion!

The person I saw under the overpass at the hospital gate was Mu Zi, who had been in Shanghai for almost four months. Mu Zi was like Lao Shen's informant, constantly monitoring Rongjie and those around her. Naturally, Lao Shen knew exactly who was coming and going around Rongjie. This explained why the director was so certain I knew Rongjie's address during the New Year's Eve dinner; it turned out Lao Shen had inadvertently revealed it during his "report" to the director.

But as the old saying goes, "Man proposes, God disposes." Old Shen's plan was meticulously laid out, but the course of events was beyond his control. Despite various ups and downs, Rong Jie's grades remained number one, and she managed to balance her dual roles of spending time with her lover and caring for her son at home remarkably well. Two weeks before the results were announced, Old Shen had essentially given up on his chances of promotion; he had even prepared his speech for second place.

But Rong Jie's death ultimately secured his first-place finish. With promotion seemingly within his grasp, his joy turned to sorrow. He never imagined that Mu Zi's mother would travel from this remote village to Shanghai, thousands of kilometers away, to the courtyard, and finally to him. It wasn't until the woman found Old Shen that he learned of Mu Zi's death. This series of unexpected injuries and deaths caused him to lose his usual shrewdness, ultimately leading him to overlook Mu Zi's mother.

After a three-day investigation, the police released him without charge due to insufficient evidence. The court, considering his contributions, allowed him to "voluntarily apply" for early retirement, thus avoiding dismissal. Old Shen was 55 years old at the time. Meanwhile, with the court's assistance, Mu Zi's mother hired a lawyer to file a civil suit alongside the criminal case against Rong Jie's husband, demanding compensation. It is said that when Old Shen left the court, he kept muttering

, "How could this happen, how could this happen..." This information was compiled from the interrogation of Rong Jie's husband, the investigation into Rong Jie's death, interviews with Rong Jie's superiors and some colleagues, and Old Shen's personal account. It was also revealed to me by a friend working at the court, who spoke to me by phone, ultimately bringing the truth to light. According to that friend, almost everyone in the court knew about the whole affair, but the director gave them a strict order: no details of the incident should be disclosed, and no one should give interviews to the media without authorization.

It was said that when the police charged and turned on Rongjie's phone, they found 19 missed calls and 16 unread text messages, almost all from an undocumented number, which turned out to be her husband's phone number; while the phone number named "Husband" in her contacts belonged to Muzi... If Rongjie had handled her personal problems properly and hadn't committed suicide, at the prime of her 38 years, with her background as the head of the enforcement division of the XX court, and 17 years or more of career development time remaining, her future would have been limitless.

Everyone felt sorry for Rongjie's death.

In August 2009, the incident finally came to an end with the deaths of Rongjie's son, Rongjie herself, Muzi, Rongjie's husband's intentional homicide, Lao Shen's early retirement, and my resignation. Even now, when I occasionally think about it, I still feel lingering fear. Although I'm thankful that neither Mu Zi nor anyone else discovered what happened between Rong and me that night, the thought of Rong's husband's crime of passion still fills me with dread. If Rong's husband had come home earlier that night, would I have been the one who died? If we hadn't gone straight into the awards ceremony after that night, and hadn't been so preoccupied with everything else, and had maintained that relationship, would I have been the one with Rong when her son died? If Rong and I had been discovered by Lao Shen that night, what schemes would he have used against me? ...So many "what ifs" make me afraid to think about them anymore.

Now, when dealing with relationships, especially with married women, my attitude is strong and resolute. There are only permissible and impermissible actions; I never consider the concept of "degree." Ons is the most convenient and uncomplicated fast food, and I resolutely abandon anything that might cause even the slightest trouble. In noble terms, it means being responsible for other people's families, for society, and for your own actions; in realistic terms, it means—don't play with fire, or you'll get burned!

[The End]

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