[Young and beautiful bureau chief's wife] [Author: Unknown]

Back then, I had just started learning about stocks. I spent every day in front of the computer. Anyone who's traded stocks knows how boring it can be, especially when you've invested all your money in a stock, only to see it fail to rise for days. Selling feels risky, but holding on means watching other stocks hit their daily limit up, some of which you yourself had your eye on. So, after investing all my money in a stock, I prayed: "Hopefully, the next few days won't be boring." But things rarely go as planned.

One day, I invested all my money in a stock. Stocks bought that day couldn't be sold. Seeing no significant change in the market trend, boredom began to creep in. Often at times like this, leaving the computer was impossible, so I'd usually kill time by playing pool or cards online.

But that day, I had no interest in playing. Bored, I clicked into a chat room, intending to just observe.

The chat room was filled with names like "Light Dance," "Graceful Stem," "One-Night Stand," and "Passionate Telephone." Entering a boring chat room when you're bored isn't exactly fun. So I was about to leave when someone named "Let's Chat for a While (Female)" appeared on the screen.

I felt that online chatting was about letting go of our real-life masks and having a genuine conversation. Since we were all strangers online, why not be more genuine? So I clicked on "Let's Chat for a While (Female)" and said, "Hello..." She was 31 years old, from Hunan, and had moved to Guangzhou with her husband after his military service. She worked as a deputy director in an office and had a seven-year-old son. Since our first chance encounter in the chat room, we'd communicated through QQ. On QQ, she was called "Xiaoyu," and I was called "Net Fish." Her work wasn't very busy; her workplace provided her with a computer, so we could communicate anytime and talk about anything. When she achieved something at work, she'd share her joy with me immediately; when my stocks went up, we'd pray together for them to rise again the next day.

Of course, there were also times when things didn't go well. She often complained that her husband was always out socializing, rarely having a proper conversation throughout the year, and that her son was very naughty and often disregarded her words. As for me, I often worried about China's capital market. When we were happy, sharing our joys made us even happier. When we were in a bad mood, we encouraged each other until we both believed that tomorrow would be better. Gradually, if one day the other didn't appear online, I would feel a little missed. We communicated online for half a year like this. During that time, I often wanted to meet her, but then I thought, since we were getting along so well, why not maintain the status quo? If we met and found that she wasn't as good as I imagined, I might lose my initial enthusiasm. So, I decided it was better not to meet, after all, this online relationship was hard-won.

Later, I went to work for a decoration company. The boss was my classmate. He also liked to trade stocks, but he often didn't have time. So, we started working together. When the market was open, I would keep an eye on the market for him. He even bought a laptop so that we could work anytime, anywhere when we were out socializing or running errands.

After spending too much time alone in front of the computer, I enjoy moving around a bit.

One day in May, a classmate's company completed a renovation project at a nearby building. On the day of the inspection, my classmate specially hosted a banquet with over a dozen tables, inviting everyone from the client company. To avoid any appearance of extravagance, the venue was the rooftop garden of the newly renovated building, and the meal was simply a buffet hot pot.

As night fell, a bright moon slowly rose, a cool early summer breeze blew gently, and the newly planted flowers and plants emitted a delicate fragrance, creating a unique atmosphere. The ladies who arrived, the older ones, dressed elegantly and demurely, while the younger ones made the most of their youth, dressing up in their finest attire. A lady sitting at the next table, facing me, caught my attention. She looked a bit like Tao Hong from the TV series "Da Shi" (大师). Her long hair was pulled back, and she wore a white, thin suit skirt over a matching white silk blouse. She wore no makeup, just a light touch of lipstick. Wearing all white isn't usually a good combination, as it easily highlights skin imperfections, but her skin was very white, smooth, and delicate. Her clothes made her appear even more noble and elegant, radiant and captivating. The banquet began, and of course, there was plenty of alcohol. My classmate pulled me along, and we went from the leaders' table to the staff's table, toasting each table. It turned out that this unit didn't yet have a director; the deputy director was the head, and the woman in white was the director's wife. This surprised me a bit. Usually, even if an official's wife isn't overbearing, she exudes a sense of superiority, but I didn't sense it at all from her words and actions.

After a round of toasts, people began to eat and drink. But two tables remained... The atmosphere was lively, with one table naturally reserved for the bureau chief, and another for his wife. For the sake of their careers and future prospects, subordinates generally wouldn't miss an opportunity to impress their superiors. In such an occasion, the way to gain favor with the leader was, of course, to toast them. Besides the bureau chief, there was also his wife. The bureau chief's wife seemed to be averse to alcohol; initially, she refused to drink at all, opting only for soda. However, she eventually succumbed to the enthusiasm of the crowd and began drinking small glasses of soda. After a few glasses, her fair face... Two rosy clouds rose on her cheeks, her smiling face like a peach blossom, making her even more charming and alluring. One scene in particular remains unforgettable: after drinking some wine, perhaps feeling a bit hot, she stood up as if to undress. The instant she pulled her suit jacket back, her breasts stood high and firm, the boundary between her breasts and bra clearly visible beneath the thin silk blouse.

The banquet lasted about two hours, and everyone was slightly tipsy and full. At this point, my classmate came over, handed me the car keys, and said, "After dinner, I'm going to karaoke and sauna with the director and the others. Looks like tonight will go straight until tomorrow morning.

I'll ride with them; you take the director's wife home, and you can drive the car home tonight." "The lady was clearly already quite drunk; she stood up and took a few steps before becoming unsteady. I sensed something was wrong. Tonight we were drinking imported liquor, and usually, when you drink too much imported liquor, you're not so bad while sitting, but once you stand up, the effects start to kick in, and the aftereffects get stronger. Luckily, the aisle we were walking through had a row of flowers and trees blocking people's view, and it wouldn't be good for the director's wife to appear drunk in front of her husband and subordinates. I quickly called over a female employee to help the lady, but the employee wasn't much better herself; the two of them were supporting each other, but it was hard to tell who was supporting whom. Fortunately, their effects hadn't fully kicked in yet, and after getting off the elevator and into the car, things went smoothly. I was going to have her sit in the back, but she said she gets carsick easily and prefers the front. In the car, I suggested that if she drank too much, the employee could accompany her home, but the lady kept shaking her head, her tongue a little stiff, saying, 'I'm fine, no need to trouble yourself.'" Hearing her say that, I couldn't help but chuckle to myself: it seems women are the same; even when they've had too much to drink, they'll say they're fine. Perhaps worried about motion sickness, she even rolled down the window.

I felt bad telling her again that it's not good to be exposed to drafts after drinking, so I asked for her address, thinking it best to get her home as soon as possible. She didn't say another word the rest of the way.

Twenty minutes later, the car arrived at her apartment building. It was a newly built residential complex; many houses were still under renovation, and very few had already moved in. The car stopped, but she didn't move. Was she asleep? So I opened my car door, intending to open hers so she could get out. Just as the door opened, the interior light came on, revealing a picture of a beautiful woman intoxicated on my right: she was wearing a white suit jacket, leaning back against the seat, her body tilted towards me, her head resting on the back of her seat next to me. Her short skirt had ridden up almost to her thighs, revealing a large section of her left thigh encased in white sheer stockings. Her eyes were closed, a few strands of hair clinging to her forehead, which was damp with a light sweat. Her chest rose and fell with her breath, and the top button of her silk blouse had come undone, revealing the upper edge of her white bra and the upper part of her breast that wasn't covered by the bra through the slightly open neckline. I froze for a moment, a surge of heat rising involuntarily from my lower abdomen, my groin swelling and bulging against my pants. Just as I was at a loss, she suddenly opened her eyes, her right hand frantically searching for the car door switch, and she flung the door open, her body springing out like a bullet. Her sudden action startled me, and I quickly rushed out of the car as well. I saw her crouching on the ground, her back heaving as she vomited with a loud "whoosh." Her body swayed uncontrollably as she vomited, and I immediately supported her shoulders. The horrifying vomiting continued for several minutes, slowly bringing up even bile. I reached into the car and grabbed some tissues and bottled water, handing them to her. She wiped her face haphazardly and rinsed her mouth with water. Seeing that she had vomited enough, I closed the car door, helped her up, and headed towards the elevator in the lobby. She mumbled, "I'm sorry, I lost control." Her legs were still weak, so I wrapped my right arm around her back, supporting her right armpit with my palm, letting her bear most of her weight. We entered the elevator, pressed the button, and it slowly rose.

Suddenly, I felt something strange in my right hand. My right hand was under her armpit, my four fingers resting on the outside of her right breast, her warm, soft, and elastic breast pressing against my fingertips. Her eyes were slightly closed, her head resting on my right shoulder, and she didn't speak. I took the keys from her handbag, fumbled to open the door, helped her into the bedroom, took off her suit jacket, placed her on the bed, and removed her white high heels. After vomiting, her face was somewhat pale. I called out, "Sister." There was no response; she had probably fallen into a deep sleep.

Now, standing before me, her upper body was only covered by a white strapless bra, the lower two-thirds of her breasts exposed outside the bra, the upper part of her breasts like solidified cream or white jade, gleaming with a sacred light under the soft lamplight. A slender waist, a flat stomach. Her lower body was encased in waist-length, sheer white stockings, beneath which was a small pair of panties covering her slightly protruding vulva. A few tufts of curly hair peeked out from under the stockings. Below that were her shapely legs, her small toes neatly pressed together within the stockings… Faced with such beauty, I knew I couldn't be a saint who could remain unmoved. My heart pounded, my penis hardened again, and I longed to unhook her bra, caress her breasts, kiss her lips, peel off her stockings and panties, and enter her body. But I also knew that there are many things in this world that you can only admire, not act upon.

To have the privilege of admiring them is already a great blessing.

She was still fast asleep. I took her pajamas from the bedside and carefully changed her into them again, covering her with a blanket. I picked up her soiled clothes and draped them over the chair beside the bed. Just as I was about to leave, I suddenly heard her groan deep in her throat, turn around, curl up in a ball, and furrow her brow. The remaining alcohol was probably taking effect again. Being drunk and vomiting often leaves you feeling terrible, especially after drinking too much spirits. I remembered that whenever I got drunk, my mother would make me a bowl of pepper and egg soup, which would quickly make me feel better.

So, I went to the kitchen. Great! There was pepper! I found an empty bottle, crushed the pepper, took two eggs from the refrigerator, and turned on the gas stove. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the aroma of pepper and eggs. A fragrant bowl of pepper and egg soup was ready, and I carried it to the bedroom. Finally, I managed to wake her up; she sat up, still sleepy. She looked around and said, "Oh? I'm home?" I said,

"Yes, the director and the others had work to do after dinner tonight, so I brought you home. I noticed you weren't feeling well, so I took you straight to your bedroom to lie down." She paused for a moment, as if remembering something, and said:

"I know you brought me back. I think I was drunk and I even vomited." I said, "You weren't drunk, you just probably drank a little too much, and you were a bit carsick on the way back, so it's normal to vomit." She seemed a little confused, and lowered her head as if trying to remember something. She saw her pajamas and suddenly said, "Did I change my clothes myself after I got back?" Luckily, I was prepared, so I said nonchalantly, "Yes, after I helped you into the bedroom, I saw that you had vomited up everything you ate, so your stomach must have been very empty. I saw there was pepper in the kitchen and eggs in the refrigerator. I heard that it's best to drink some pepper and egg soup after drinking alcohol, so I made you a bowl. When you came in, I found that you had already changed your clothes." She looked up at me. Perhaps she saw my sincere look, or perhaps she believed that she couldn't be too confused, her eyes gradually lost their suspicion. I handed her the soup, which she took with gratitude in her eyes. "I can't accept your help all night," she said. She was truly hungry and began to eat, spoonful by spoonful, explaining that she always made this soup for her husband when he came home drunk, and it worked wonders. She'd only ever tasted it, never actually tried it, and was surprised at how delicious it was. Watching her eat so heartily made me happy too.

Soon, she finished the whole bowl, her complexion regaining its rosy hue.

Just then, the phone rang by the bed. She picked it up. The room was quiet, and I could hear her clearly. It was her husband calling; he was quite drunk and said he couldn't come home that night, asking her to immediately turn on the computer and send some urgent document to someone. Hearing that he wouldn't be coming home, a flicker of displeasure crossed her face, but she quickly regained her composure, perhaps used to this situation. She muttered, "What could be so urgent? Can't I send it tomorrow at work?" "I turned on the computer in the bedroom.

The computer was running very slowly, almost like a Pentium 100 running Windows 98, but the machine itself looked quite new. I asked her what the computer's specs were, and she said she didn't know much about computers, only that it was a Pentium 4 and she'd only bought it six months ago. I said that didn't make sense, how could a Pentium 4 be so slow? She said it wasn't this slow at first, but it gradually got slower and slower, and she didn't know if she'd bought a fake. After a while, the file was finally sent. I said to her, 'This kind of computer problem is probably a software issue, not a machine problem. Can I take a look?' She said, 'Sure, I'm really annoyed by how slow it is. I even discussed with my husband about having the computer repair shop take it back for repairs, but he keeps putting it off.'" I took the mouse and checked the C drive. Good heavens! Only 30MB of space remained out of 10GB—no wonder it was slow. I explained the situation to her, saying that moving some files to another drive would solve the problem. She asked if it was easy to fix. I said it was fine, just about half an hour. She looked at her watch and said, "Thank you so much! Please fix it for me." So I started selecting files from the C drive that could be moved to another drive.

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[Young and beautiful bureau chief's wife] [Author: Unknown]

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