【Fall mark】(1)

Author: Passerby,
March 5, 2018, posted on forum or forum 001
, 3206 words.

The gentle river that can be seen right outside the door has nourished this originally impoverished land for millennia,
giving my father, who wasn't particularly capable, the means to marry my beautiful mother, given the abundance of our granaries.

I dare not say that my mother was the most beautiful woman in Pan Village, but among many beautiful women, she is
the most beautiful in my heart.

Pan Village, my home, is surrounded by mountains on three sides, with a fertile plain in the middle, and a large river in front of the door.

The people in our village have always been more confident than those in other places, mainly because of the fertile soil and fertile water; the vast paddy
fields are the foundation of our wealth.

Girls from other villages, tired of eating corn and coarse grains, all longed to marry into Pan Village. This meant not only that they could
eat fragrant white rice, but also that their families wouldn't have to worry about not getting a good meal to reward their loved ones during the Spring Festival.

Unfortunately, not every young woman possesses the beauty to marry a good man; ultimately, it depends on
whether fate favors them while they are in the womb.

My mother was perhaps not one of heaven's favorites; she mainly inherited her
good .

Speaking of my maternal grandparents, they were a handsome couple, as evidenced by my mother
and her two siblings. Of

course, I can no longer ascertain the source of their good looks, only that they fell in love and admired each other's beauty. 　　However, in their era, the price of free marriage was the loss of support from elders, and their lives became increasingly bleak. 　　The harshness of life is especially damaging to women, to the point that my grandmother, who is now far from beautiful; a host of ailments have changed her appearance. 　　It was precisely because of their poverty that my mother married my father at the age of sixteen. 　　My father was like a wild cat, often unwilling to stay home. He'd be out for days at a time, driving his tricycle, seemingly thoroughly enjoying his freedom. 　　Ever since my uncle, who taught in the city, took my grandfather to live with him, my father had been like a wild horse, relentlessly trying to turn his ideas into reality. 　　Two years ago, he sold two large granaries of grain, bought a tricycle, and used the remaining money to start a business . 　　My mother was a gentle person, like the beautiful, clear river in front of our house, never losing her temper . 　　When my father suddenly had a novel idea, she would always listen with a smile. 　　So when my father said he wanted to sell grain, buy a tricycle, and start a business, my mother simply told him to think things through carefully; she seemed completely unconcerned about her husband's potential failure. 　　Every time my father went out, my mother would remind him to buy me some delicious food and fun toys, which filled me with gratitude for my mother and anticipation for my father. 　　My mother rarely worked in the fields because she needed to operate the several machines in the house. 　　The west wing of our house was a large workshop built by my grandfather, with two rooms for rolling out dough upstairs and milling rice and rice flour downstairs . 　　My mother mastered all the operations within two months of marrying into the family, much faster than my father. My grandfather often praised my mother for her competence and criticized my father for being lazy. 　　During the day, people from other villages would often bring bags of wheat for my mother to make into noodles; families from our own village would also come to our house every few days to mill rice, either for themselves or to sell at the market. During festivals and busy seasons, dozens of kilograms of rice flour would be made. 　　In a month, my mother could earn quite a bit of money. 　　The work in the workshop was delicate, requiring little physical exertion, and she wasn't exposed to the elements, so my mother didn't time. 　　Many older women would jokingly call her a new bride when they saw her. 　　In fact, my mother had been married into Pan Village for over six years, and had given birth to my brother and me. 　　Unfortunately, my older brother passed away from a serious illness when I was three years old, leaving me all alone. 　　My grandfather would have liked my parents to have a sibling, but my father was reluctant to take on the responsibility. 　　My mother was forced to undergo sterilization by the family planning commission after giving birth to me; the procedure for removing the sterilization was extremely complicated, and the fines for having more allowed were getting heavier. My father, who was passionate about business, had no interest in the hassle. 　　My mother's intentions were somewhat ambiguous; she might still want another child, but she didn't want to go against my father's wishes. 　　My grandfather repeatedly urged her to have a child, but to no avail, and the matter was left unresolved. 　　From then on, my mother poured all her love into me. 　　My father, who had never shown much talent before, became increasingly successful in his business, breaking even in just a few months. 　　Seeing his success, my mother used all the money she had earned in recent years to fully support him. 　　My father, who had previously been eccentric and carefree, didn't show his usual excitement after tasting the sweetness of business success; instead, he became remarkably calm and composed, appearing to have matured instantly. 　　Gradually, my father's stays away from home became longer and longer. Now, it's common for him to not come home for half a month at a time. When he does come back, he only stays for a day before leaving again. As a result, my father has become a vague word in my mind. My mother and I live in a courtyard consisting of a spacious main house and two standard side houses. It's empty yet warm. It's empty because the two of us are looking after five or six empty rooms. It's warm because mother and son are inseparable. 　　I follow my mother around every day. 　　Sometimes, when I was bored, I would grab my mother's hand while she was busy, asking for this and that. At first, she wouldn't pay attention, but after a few times, she would look at me with a half-smile, though her eyes were actually full of laughter. Seeing that I wasn't afraid, she would quickly pull out her flour-covered fingers and lightly run them across my face, then giggle, teasing me for being a little kitten. Sometimes I would hide where my mother couldn't see me to play, and if she couldn't see me for a few minutes, she would start calling my name. I was usually too lazy to answer, so she would raise her voice, and before I could respond, she would turn off the machine and go out to look for me. I would suddenly dart out, and she would play along, pretending to be startled, and we would play hide-and-seek. 　　Occasionally, when people passed by, they would jokingly say that my mother was a crazy girl. As 　　night fell, people in those days with little entertainment had to go to bed early.

My mother washed my face and feet, then carried me to bed to play. She went out to inspect the main gate and the machine room.

While I was rolling and tumbling on the bed, she had already finished everything.

Sitting at the counter, combing her medium-length, glossy black hair was something she did every night. At these times,
I would always find myself watching her, mesmerized. My mother, used to this, completely ignored my expression,
seemingly captivated by my gaze.

Although the summer nights in Pan Village weren't too hot, no one dared to sleep fully clothed, otherwise they would break out in a sweat and feel
extremely uncomfortable.

Watching my mother finish combing her hair, I consciously took off my clothes and lay down on the bamboo mat to enjoy the coolness
, watching her undress as she did so.

She tossed her beautiful hair towards me, and my heart pounded faster and faster as I watched intently, but in the end, all I felt was a
fragrant scent as her hair fell across her back.

Before the ripples of her tossed hair had subsided, another wave of excitement arose as her collar slowly opened to her shoulders
.

The light blue dress slowly slid down, and I could almost hear the pleasant sound of it
sliding .

A straight spinal groove was revealed as the dress fell away, dividing my mother's back evenly in
two: her smooth shoulders were like white jade meticulously carved by a skilled craftsman, the skin of her shoulders glowing with a hazy white light under the lamp
, and I could clearly see the fine downy hairs floating in the air; her slightly protruding shoulder blades made the surrounding tender flesh
appear even firmer, and the shallow depressions below her shoulder blades could hold a few drops of morning dew; the outline of her back narrowed
slightly bottom, tightening at her waist and gradually widening down to her rounded buttocks; the spinal groove also
ended abruptly at her slender waist, forming an oval depression.

My mother stretched out her arms and swung them a few times, and the light blue dress fluttered to the ground,
revealing her fair and delicate bare back. I swallowed hard, clutching my pillow.

Before I could savor the moment, my mother had already picked up the clothes and tossed them onto the wardrobe door beside the counter.

Then she looked down at her crotch. I couldn't see her hands moving in front of her, but her
tight waistband gradually loosened, revealing the edge of her light red shorts, which draped over her full buttocks.

Seemingly to satisfy my curiosity, without much hesitation, my mother pulled at her waistband, brought her legs together, arched
her back , and thrust her buttocks up and down, instantly sliding her pants down to her knees.

I didn't dare blink, afraid of missing the full, rounded shape of
her buttocks, afraid of missing the fleshy mounds draped by the shorts as they passed her thighs, afraid of missing the perfectly
straight .

Thankfully, through countless nights like tonight, I've developed a keen eye, never missing
a beautiful moment.

Following the familiar pattern, my mother first lifted her left leg, then her right, successfully removing her outer pants.

She straightened up, twirled her trousers, and shook them, perhaps to shake off the dust, or perhaps to straighten the legs
.

While she shook her trousers, I continued to feast my eyes on the visual spectacle of her rounded buttocks swaying rhythmically.

If my mother undressing behind my back already made my heart race and my mind wander, the sight of her turning
around was utterly intoxicating, to the point that only six or seven times out of ten could I maintain a clear head to watch the whole thing
.

Needless to say, there were her watery eyes beneath her delicate, arched eyebrows; her straight nose
, shallow philtrum, thin lips, and neat teeth; not to mention her well-defined features and
symmetrical chin.

Just the two firm clavicle grooves, her two pairs of breasts—not particularly large, but with pointed nipples and
pink areolas—and the faint outline of her navel beneath her smooth abdomen, were enough to
drive me wild.

And let's not even mention her smooth, straight calves, her firm, shapely thighs, and the prominent
groin .

Every night I could see more details, the endless anticipation this mother gave me.

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【Fall mark】(1)

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