Colorful clouds easily disperse, and glass is fragile.

One summer evening last year,

I opened WeChat on my phone and searched for people nearby. I found someone named Liuli (琉璃). A line of poetry naturally came to mind: "The best things in the world are not lasting; colorful clouds easily disperse, and glass is fragile." So I casually sent her a greeting. A while later, she replied. We chatted casually. She asked how old I was, and I said twenty-three. She said I was much older than her. I said age has never been a boundary for friendship; a friendship between people of different ages is probably more interesting. Our upbringing and experiences are very different, and we might learn a lot we didn't know before. She agreed, and then sent a grinning emoji.

The next day, we continued chatting. I asked what she was doing. She said she was playing the guzheng (古筝). I said, "Wow, you're quite talented!" She said she hadn't been learning for very long. I said, "Could you play a short piece and send it to me?" A while later, she sent a voice message. I listened to it; it was "Daughter's Love" (女儿情). Overall, it was gentle and flowing, captivating. There was only a slight pause in the middle. I complimented her, saying, "This music should only exist in heaven; how often can one hear it on earth? Hearing this pure and elegant music, one feels instantly refreshed." She replied, "You flatter me; I don't play it that well." I mentioned that I've recently started learning the xiao (vertical bamboo flute), and asked when we could play a duet. She said yes, when she has time.

We chatted again that evening, and she said she was bored watching TV alone at home. I said, "Why not meet tonight? I'll treat you to dinner, and you can also listen to a live guzheng performance. I've brought my xiao and sword too." Yes, I also have a sword. She agreed, and suggested meeting at the park near our neighborhood. We didn't live in the same neighborhood; the park was right between us, and hers was a little further away. I arrived early and sat in the park to rest and wait. A cool evening breeze rustled the leaves. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes to relax. About twenty minutes later, I saw a woman carrying a large bag approaching gracefully. I stood up and walked towards her, carrying the box containing the flute and sword. Because both of our belongings were somewhat unusual, we recognized each other almost instantly. We smiled at each other. She was wearing a tight-fitting dress, around thirty-five years old, and well-maintained. Although there were slight wrinkles around her eyes, she had no obvious excess fat, and her skin was relatively smooth. Her hair was styled in a bun at the back of her head. Occasionally, her eyes would sparkle, revealing a bright and cheerful spirit that she still possessed, unlike some middle-aged women who seemed lifeless.

Seeing that she was carrying a large guzheng (Chinese zither), I quickly took it off and said, "Thank you for carrying such a heavy guzheng out so late at night. Please sit down on this chair and rest for a while." She smiled and said, "It's alright." After sitting for two minutes, I placed the guzheng on the stone table next to the chair, opened my bag, laid the guzheng flat, and played the keys in reverse order—the melody of "A Laugh in the Vast Sea"—a piece attributed to Wong Jim's ingenious creation. She laughed and said, "So you can play the guzheng a little too?" I said, "Haha, I only know how to play this one key. A friend of mine used to own a musical instrument shop, and I played there a few times. He taught me." "Why don't you play?" she said. "Okay, I'll play a little, but don't think it sounds bad." I said, "Haha, my xiao (vertical bamboo flute) isn't very good either. Let's begin." I took out my xiao, and she took out her sheet music. The park was dimly lit by streetlights, the atmosphere neither too dark and gloomy nor too bright and devoid of mood. She played "Chrysanthemum Terrace," which, objectively speaking, sounded quite nice. As for my xiao... how to put it? It was the same key from beginning to end, without any of the expected melodies. Even when I tried to change keys, it sounded discordant to myself. Haha, that's it. I initially bought the xiao because I liked the instrument's character, like the line from the poem, "On the night of the bright moon over the Twenty-Four Bridges, where does the jade maiden teach the xiao?" Then, because I enjoy reading martial arts novels, I also bought a sword. When she could no longer play, she drew her sword and brandished it with a whooshing sound, seemingly quite adept at it. In the deep of night, the moon shone softly through the woods. Ancient melodies lingered in her ears as she wielded her sword. For a moment, it felt as if she had traveled through time.

After a while, as the light grew dimmer, she struggled to read the sheet music. We sat down to rest for a bit. Then she said it was getting late and she should go home. I said okay, I'll see her off. I've never been an impatient person. I wasn't pleased or worried about it. As long as I was content and comfortable, that was enough.

After seeing her home, I went home to rest too. Two

days later, we continued chatting and arranged to meet again in the park that evening. We agreed that this time we wouldn't need to bring our guzheng and xiao; we could just sit and chat quietly.

After meeting, we sat on the chairs, whispering and sharing our recent lives. We talked about the past, the present, and the future. I casually confided that I was under a lot of pressure, and she comforted me, saying, "It's okay, you're still young. I think you're exceptionally talented, and you'll definitely get better and better in the future. Don't be too impatient." I put my arm around her shoulder, and she leaned against mine. My hand naturally took hers, and I gave her a small kiss on the hair. I cautiously tested the waters, and finding no resistance, I put my arm around her waist, my hand slowly caressing it. The soft, smooth touch made me feel a surge of heat building up in my lower abdomen. I then asked her for a kiss. She obligingly licked my tongue. We kissed passionately.

I said, "I want to find a place where there's no one else, just the two of us. I want to spend some time with you in that kind of environment, and I want to say some things to you. And some things can only be said when it's just the two of us." She said okay, but I had to go home later. I said, "Okay."

So I used my phone to search for hotels nearby, choosing one that was a little further away. After checking in, we went into the room together. Lying in bed with her, I held her and started kissing her, my hands caressing her breasts through her dress. She said, "You little rascal, didn't you say you had something to tell me?" I smiled. She said, "I'm going to take a shower first, wait for me." So I lay in bed, turned on the TV, and waited for her.

After a little while, she came out. When I first saw her, my vision blurred, and I thought I was seeing things—she came out wearing sexy lingerie! It seemed she had put that lingerie in her bag before meeting me today; she came prepared. I exclaimed, "A beauty has just emerged from her shower! This outfit is so alluring." I got out of bed, picked her up, and placed her on the bed. Seeing how thoughtful she was, I had to put in some effort too. My lips first kissed her face, then her neck, then her breasts, then her two erect nipples, and finally her waist. My tongue swirled around her waist a few times; in my experience, the waist is a sensitive area for many women. Sure enough, she let out a soft moan of unbearable pleasure. I continued kissing her... my hands kneaded her clitoris, my fingers probing her vulva, feeling that it was already wet. I held my hard, burning penis, lingering and rubbing it against her vulva, then slowly, inch by inch, I entered… unexpectedly tight. Even tighter than some seventeen or eighteen-year-old girls I'd been with before. Just like men, women's genitals vary. I went all the way in, feeling my entire erection tightly and firmly enveloped, then pulled out. She began to pant, as if suppressed cries were finally being released. I continued thrusting, my hands kneading her breasts. Her breasts weren't particularly large, just a handful, her nipples erect. I pinched her clitoris with my fingers, my lower body moving constantly, watching her dazed eyes, her long hair scattered on the pillow, her hands clutching the sheets… Then I changed positions a few more times. I began to understand why men like mature women. Because if you pat your butt, she knows to change positions; if you lie down, she knows to sit on top; if you stand up, she knows to kneel; if you kneel, she knows to bend over. And when you patted her on the butt, she turned around and asked why you hit her… After a passionate encounter, she placed her hand, satisfied yet tired, on my chest, her fingers tracing patterns on my skin. We chatted aimlessly about nothing in particular. Sometimes that's how it is when two people who like each other talk—no specific topic, no unspoken message, just random, aimless chatter. After a while, we left the hotel, and I walked her to the entrance of her apartment complex.

Not long after, I changed jobs and moved, living quite far from her. We kept in touch occasionally, maintaining a frequency of meeting once a month. Each time, it was a mutual satisfaction of body and soul.

During one conversation, we talked about our jobs. She said she used to be a police officer, but she had been unwell recently and wasn't working. I said, "Wow, that's amazing! Fighting crime and serving the people. Do you go on patrols often? Isn't it dangerous?" She said she didn't go on patrols; she mainly did registration work. These days, female police officers generally don't go on patrols. I asked, "Have you ever handled a real gun?" She said, "Of course! I used to practice shooting a lot at the police academy." I was immediately filled with curiosity and said, "Do you still have your uniform? Can you wear it for me next time?" She said she had handed in her uniform and badge after resigning, but she had a camouflage uniform, which she would wear next time we met. So, a month later, I saw her wearing her camouflage uniform.

We've been in a relationship for eight months now. Looking back, most of my sexual partners have only lasted three months, then either due to long-distance work causing the relationship to fade naturally, or we discover personality clashes or misunderstandings. It's very rare for a relationship to last more than three or four months. Thinking about why we've been able to maintain this relationship for so long, it's probably because we keep a certain distance. Not being together every day and night prevents friction caused by closeness; seeing each other once a month keeps things fresh, keeping us both relaxed and happy, thus avoiding arguments. We both enjoy the pleasure of physical and emotional connection, and that's good enough.

As for the future, let's not think about it too much. The future is too unpredictable; all we can do is cherish the present.

(Word count: 3155
) [The End]

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Colorful clouds easily disperse, and glass is fragile.

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