Yesterday, my son made me dizzy from exercising; today, I'll have to do it seven times.

The river splashes only when restrained by its banks, and my soul sings in its excessive tranquility.
My hometown, a small town in Jiangnan, is otherworldly. Whenever I look out from among the lush green willows, the Yangtze River under the rising sun shimmers with golden light, boats sailing on its surface, their white sails rippling like drifting clouds on a silver river.
After the Beginning of Spring, a gentle drizzle falls, and the hibernating grass begins to reveal its verdant eyes; in summer, the scorching sun beats down, and tall sycamore trees provide shade; after the Beginning of Autumn, the autumn rains bring fluctuating temperatures, and the sycamore leaves first turn yellow, then bronze, and then fall one by one with a metallic sound—winter is fast approaching.
What I remember most vividly is the winter of my hometown, the snow of my hometown, holding within it so many memories, both sweet and bitter. At
seventeen
, after the winter solstice, the biting north wind grew stronger day by day. As evening approached and dusk deepened, most people had already closed their doors, except for a few stalls and shops still open. The biting wind, though kept out by my door, seeped in through the cracks in the old ancestral home, exposed to sun and rain, howling and chilling me to the bone. At this time, my mother and I would cut strips of wood paper we'd bought, mix some glue, and seal the gaps with the paper strips, preparing for winter.
"Qiao'er, do you think your father has arrived yet? It's so cold; I'm really worried the coat I asked him to take isn't warm enough," my mother said, her pale face filled with worry.
"Mom, don't worry," my father replied, "Dad wore plenty of layers when he left, and with so many colleagues on the train, he'll be fine. You're just worrying unnecessarily."
He was wearing the greyish-blue crepe leather robe passed down from my grandfather, with an old-fashioned overcoat over it. As an accomplished paleontologist, my father's eyes would light up at the mere mention of a new species, and despite his frail health, he would insist on going to the discovery site. This time, the Zhejiang Provincial Cultural Relics Bureau had invited him to identify a newly discovered dinosaur fossil, reportedly a medium-sized dinosaur, six or seven meters long, that was both herbivorous and carnivorous. The rescue and excavation work was about to begin.
"Sigh, I was just worried about his health. The traditional Chinese medicine your grandfather prescribed for him finished this morning, so I had to ask him to take some Western medicine. If I had known, I would have prescribed more, and things wouldn't have turned out this way… sigh!" My mother sighed deeply, turning her gaze back to the distance, a faint light flickering in her eyes.
"I just didn't expect it. Looking at the weather, it looks like it's going to snow. If the snow closes the mountains, I don't know what will happen. Dad's just so stubborn, I can't persuade him." I felt both worried and a little resentful. My mother usually did all the housework, juggling work and family responsibilities. Moreover, my father's health has always been poor, and my mother has always taken care of him tirelessly. The couple has never argued or quarreled, which explains why my family has been recognized as a model family by the neighborhood committee every year.
"Yes. He said he would be back in two or three days, or at most a week. But man proposes, God disposes. If it really snows heavily, it will be a terrible thing. Sigh, Qiao'er, what do you think?" My mother rubbed her hands together to warm them, and her breath immediately formed a thin layer of mist on the window.
"Mom, are you cold? Come on, let's light the stove." I took my mother's hand and placed it in my palm. It was indeed icy cold. My mother's small hands were round and delicate, an incomparably exquisite and skillful pair of hands. With her small hands, Suzhou Pingtan became famous far and wide.
"No, I'm not cold. Qiao'er, there's still some lotus flower and corn porridge that I made. Have another bowl." My mother gently pulled away and let me hold her hand. A slight blush appeared on her originally fair face.
I took a deep breath. My mother, standing gracefully before me, was so dignified and beautiful. This was the mother who gave me life and raised me; her blood beat in my veins. I couldn't ignore this beauty; this feeling was innate, constantly lingering in my dreams, impossible to shake off.
I often longed for its arrival when I was troubled. Lu Xun wrote in "Call to Arms," "Lately I've only been troubled; trouble is like a great poisonous snake coiled around my soul." He wrote so well, capturing my inner world perfectly. Because I always felt that trouble was incredibly demonic; it came from nowhere, and once it clung to a person, it was impossible to escape, just like the great poisonous snake in the Indian forest, considered both sacred and eerie.
"Alright, go light the stove, I'll go get some more charcoal." My mother pulled my little hand away from my lips, turned, and went into the storage room. Her slender figure was like a light blue-ochre impressionistic painting. I followed closely behind her, the closed room seemingly filled with her alluring fragrance, a subtle scent that wafted into my nostrils. I imagined seeing pink clouds in the sky. Inviting a woman for sex can be done here within a day. The link in the extension is to4.dn/gbo. Newbies looking for quick hookups are advised to look for women around 35 years old. Women at this age have very strong desires. Women with looks below 80 are also easy to find; choose according to your personal preference and patience.

"Mom, I miss you… I want you…" I hugged my mother's soft body from behind, feeling my heart pounding. "You know what? I didn't sleep much last night, just listened to you and Dad…"
"Ah, no, don't… Qiao'er… you, you promised me…" My mother tried to break free from my embrace, but she was powerless; my strong arms were her own. I could feel her hands and feet were frozen, her whole body trembling. I pressed my face against her back, my arms still tightly wrapped around her. My mother's firm breasts, held in my small hands, fueled my burning desire.
"Mom, Mom, just let me hold you, even just like this," I pleaded, my deep baritone voice trembling like willow catkins in the wind, dancing wildly in the sky amidst the howling north wind, echoing the fragments of my dreams.
"Good child, listen to me... this isn't good, it's really not good. Let me go, I'm your mother!"
My mother choked back tears, her silvery voice ringing in my ears. My soul felt as if it were lying on a dream net, swaying gently, ethereally, and serenely in her fragrant embrace. I was intoxicated, as if I had drunk fine, aged wine.
“Mom, isn’t it nice to hold you like this? Didn’t you say you liked it when I held you like this? Mom, I haven’t been happy these past few days, so unhappy!” I lifted my face and brought my lips to her pointed earlobe. My mother’s ear hook was an old-fashioned pure gold hoop, gleaming in her cloud-like black hair. The sky outside the window was low, the clouds were dim, and the north wind howled across the rooftops and ditches. Countless withered leaves swirled and scattered in the wind, and the trees trembled in the wind, just like my mother in my arms at this moment.
“Ah, Qiao’er, Mom can’t make mistakes again. Let go of Mom, my good child…” My mother’s voice was broken and intermittent, like a half-dried stream hidden by white clouds, or the desolate sound of autumn.
I was silent. My mother’s tone was low, like a mermaid lost in the dark night sobbing. I read it, appreciating all the shock and poignant beauty it brought in this gloomy winter day. In those past days, my soul had long been corroded by that great serpent. Sometimes I even longed for that pain to return, because it was accompanied by joy and could slightly lift my gloomy spirit. I had neither the courage of Hemingway to commit suicide, nor could I allow this deathly silence to permanently erode my soul. So, I could only continue down the wrong path.
In silence, I persisted in my convictions. My left hand slipped under her clothes, and my mother's breast, full and delicate, possessed the typical grace of a woman from the Jiangnan water towns. In my grasp, it twisted and shaped, melodious and soft. But what ignited my burning desire was her gentle and exquisite vulva, which, under the cover of my right hand, went from cold to hot, swirling like clouds.
My mother no longer struggled. The room was quiet, but the pulse of our excitement beat within it. A mysterious, natural language slowly seeped into the depths of my soul. I believed that my mother felt the same way I did. In this utterly silent realm, my heart flutters like a wisp of silk, recalling the beautiful day and night of that year, the lingering melancholy, the tender emotions, and the deep sense of helplessness that followed when the wine was finished and the guests had left.
My mother cried. My charming, gentle, affectionate, and inherently fragile mother trembled, and a warm feeling spread to my fingertips. I turned her around; her bright eyes were dazzling, tinged with a hint of sorrow, and the bamboo fence in my heart crumbled once more. I gently lifted her up; her rosy lips were like blooming violets, their color so vibrant they seemed cut from paper, and her eyes, shimmering with autumn light, seemed to float with a lush green. I couldn't help but recall a line of poetry: "In her autumn waters, verdant meadows pass by."
"Qiao'er…you, you put the mosquito net down…" My mother's timid, soft, watery voice was like a bird's song with wings.
"Yes, Mom." I obediently lowered the beaded gauze mosquito net, even though it was just the two of us in the room; she still insisted on doing so. The large, carved mahogany bed that my mother had brought with her dowry swayed and rocked, a rhythmic, undulating movement. My mother's tenderness flowed out bit by bit in her plaintive moans, each utterance like a clear spring initially flowing laboriously and quietly through a crack in the rocks, then, drawn by me, gushing forth in a torrent.
My mother's vulva, initially somewhat inexperienced, was like the verdant grapes of the south, its color amber, vibrant with a reddish glow. I felt my strong member galloping across the vast countryside, or like a small boat with a plain sail, moored in the middle of a paddy field. All my worries vanished. I gazed at the lush green grass, listening to my mother's melodious song, like birdsong, and the world was filled with wondrous sounds.
"Bridge, be gentle... I want it, I'm almost... I can't take it anymore..." My mother rose and fell several times, slowly slowing her movements, the complex rhythms becoming harmonious, long and short, fast and slow, like the whisper of wind and the song of rain, a languid yet joyful expanse.
I slowed my pace, gently stretching my growing waist. Through the white gauze curtain, I saw the lattice screen covered with faded blue silk, and the grid paper my mother and I had pasted together. I turned my gaze away; my mother's body was a pearly white, bathed in a misty, silvery haze, her whole form like a wordless book unfolding before me. My mother's voice rose, melodious and lingering in the air, carrying a faint floral fragrance… gentle, fresh, giving me boundless joy.
After about three to five minutes, I heard the patter of raindrops on the grass, her soft, trembling murmurs mingling with joyful and resonant tones. This clear trill, for some reason, made me smile slightly, yet also brought tears to my eyes. How could the gentle breeze, the splashing spring water, compare to this most tender melody of human pleasure?
"Mmm...mmm, hum...ah..." Mother murmured again, the down comforter covering her arching up. Unconsciously, our legs stretched out, exposed to the sunlight, and we didn't feel cold at all. I listened intently; her clear voice floated all around, like the chirping of spring insects, the murmur of flowers. Wasn't this scene exactly that eternal day? That night, the night was beautiful, the world unusually quiet. No painter's brush could capture that scene, yet it's forever etched in my heart!
"Mom, I want to do it here, okay?" I gently placed my fingers on her nipples. There, in the folds, were hazy mountains, shrouded in mist, like fairies draped in milky-white gossamer veils. I often fantasized about one day wandering among them. Mother was shy; I once wanted to do it from behind, but she refused. That unusual position made her feel humiliated, I knew and understood. Therefore, I tried to guide her, taking advantage of this beautiful atmosphere, this intoxicating moment.
"No, no, this won't do, how can this be? We're not animals, besides, it's so dirty there..." My mother's reserve and shyness made her refuse this position that made her feel ashamed.
However, I knew. I knew she and my father had done it; I had seen it by chance once. That was when I was thirteen years old, when cicadas were shedding their last chirps and passing by other branches. That day, the summer heat was fading, and a cool autumn breeze was blowing...
(II)
"Brother Qiao, I caught another cricket today. Let's go find Da Sha's 'Ever-Victorious General' to have a fight." The neighbor Er Leng pushed open my door, holding a small earthenware jar in his hand. The chirping coming from inside was loud and powerful. I could immediately tell that this cricket was very good at fighting. Sure enough, when I opened it, it was long, had a big mouth, strong legs, and was black with brown markings. It was a top-quality cricket. I gently nudged it with a blade of grass, and it immediately bared its beak, flapped its wings, and chirped eagerly.
"Where did you find it? Hey, this time it'll definitely beat that kid!" I exclaimed with delight. Yesterday, Da Fu and I had spent ages rummaging around at the foot of the old blue brick wall behind my house and in the damp ruins, but we hadn't found a single good fighter. The most we found were fat, big three-tailed crickets, which were useless.
"Hehe, I found this one last night by the ancient tomb on the back hill. How about that? Pretty impressive, right?" Er Leng looked smug, just like the arrogant cricket in the earthenware pot.
I laughed heartily and grabbed his hand. "Come on, let's go find Da Sha."
"Qiao'er, you haven't eaten yet?" My mother rushed out, wearing a light purple woolen coat and holding an unpeeled water chestnut.
"It's okay, Mom, I'm not hungry. You and Dad eat..." I replied as I ran, the passion for battle burning within me, encouraging me. I was determined to defeat that smug fellow immediately.
But I lost that battle badly.
When I returned home dejectedly, it was late at night, the moon hidden by the treetops. I walked home, bypassing the pond behind the old house. Looking up, I saw the old house standing alone by the water, its windows draped with thin curtains, and several graceful autumn willows gently brushing against the clean white marble slabs in front of the door. I didn't go in through the front door; instead, I climbed over the mottled, peeling old wall and jumped into the courtyard. The autumn night air was filled with the rich fragrance of locust blossoms. Through the glass window, I saw my father's study, bright as an autumn pool, radiating a soft, clear light.
On the exquisite ebony table by the window lay an animal skeleton, apparently a new specimen my father had made.
My father and mother were admiring the specimen side by side; my father pointed at it, while my mother nodded in admiration, her lowered eyes sparkling with love and joy. I think it was perhaps a case of loving the house because of the house; my mother also cherished every one of my father's works. That mutual understanding and connection often amazed me in the years that followed.
The clear, watery lamplight illuminated my father's white hair and my mother's rosy cheeks. Occasionally, they would look up, their eyes meeting, revealing a deep and unforgettable love between them.
My father grew up in poverty, his hair turning white in his youth, yet he excelled academically, highly regarded by the school and the industry—truly a top student among top students. My mother met my father through my eldest uncle, who was my father's classmate. The year he graduated from university, my father visited my uncle and met my mother. My mother said she was attracted by the deep, ethereal wisdom flowing in my father's dark eyes, and did not look down on him because of his frail appearance; on the contrary, she fell in love at first sight, and from then on, her love for him remained unwavering throughout her life. My father's outstanding success in his academic field can be said to be inseparable from my mother's virtuous support.
"Peijiang, I'm going to Beijing tomorrow. What do you want me to buy for you?" Father gently pulled Mother into his arms, lowered his head to kiss her temples, and his hands roamed over her body.
"Hmm, I don't need anything. I just hope you can finish your business and come back soon. You should buy some toys for Qiao'er; he's been a bit too wild these past few days, and I really don't know how to teach him." Mother's voice was sweet and cloying, like glutinous rice paste mixed with sugar.
"You always spoil him like this; you'll spoil him rotten." Father was slowly undressing Mother, but then Mother broke free from him, went to the window, and drew the curtains. In my haste to hide, I caught a glimpse of her milky white skin beneath her neck. My heart pounded, and I jumped into Mother's bedroom. I knew Mother's temperament; she wouldn't do that kind of thing with Father in the study.
“You’re fine in the study, why do you insist on coming back to the bedroom?” Just as I expected, my father couldn’t resist my mother’s insistence and had no choice but to follow her back to their bedroom.
“No, how can we do this there? What if Qiao’er suddenly comes back? Yu Nong, please don’t turn the light on again.” After closing the door, Mother took off her underwear and neatly placed it on the bedside table. The light was still on, but Father ignored her; he wanted to savor and admire Mother’s beauty.
Desire stirred within me with surging passion. This passion rose from my lower abdomen, rising higher and higher, as if to burst through my heart and then spread in all directions. Mother’s breasts were small and delicate, not as enormous as the neighbor’s mother’s, but more refined and rounded, with pale purple nipples adorning her firm breasts.
Father stroked Mother’s abdomen, where there was a mark left from giving birth to me. “Jiang, you’re so beautiful. Look, you’re all wet…”
“Hmph… Yu Nong, stop touching me…” Mother closed her eyes, and I could feel the rising desire within her, burning within me as well, making me gasp for breath. My burning penis proudly erected its tent for the first time.
“Alright, my little darling, I’m coming…” Father thrust his penis deep into Mother’s body, his voice hoarse. He held Mother’s legs in his hands, in a position like a spear thrusting into the sun. I
heard Mother’s tears of joy, and the air was filled with the sound of fine sand rubbing together. I was drawn in and listened carefully. It didn’t sound like their genitals were intertwined, but rather like three or five small blue dragonflies rubbing their thin wings together, a babbling brook. The sound seemed to be tinged with vibrant colors, and I could almost see the damp green, near and far, shrouded in a misty haze.
“Ah…” Father cried out, a long, desolate cry, tinged with despair. He shifted his body a few times, then lay motionless on top of his mother. Time seemed to stand still; the night was long, and the room was deathly silent. I could only hear my own breathing, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Jiang, it's been so long since we did it, I thought... I thought... who knew..."
Hiding behind the curtains, I held my breath, afraid to speak. The chill of the late autumn night rose from between my toes. I heard my mother sigh deeply.
"It's alright. Ming-ge. You've always been in poor health, and you've been working hard lately, so you might have been distracted. It's okay, we'll start again." My mother propped herself up, her naked body as pure and beautiful as a melancholy goddess, emitting a sapphire-like shimmer. I finally saw the coral-like fluid my father had ejaculated, dripping onto her soft pubic hair, a mixture of lust and despair.
"Come, let me help you." My mother grasped my father's limp penis, slowly rubbing it until it revived.
“Jiang, I heard there’s a way to stimulate me…” The father inserted his fingers deep inside the mother, his eyes shining. His alluring wife lay sprawled under the warm orange light, delicate and fragile, just like her bride days.
“What?” the mother gasped. She gently stroked the father’s face, her tenderness like that of a goddess in a dance.
“I heard you can insert it here too. Jiang, let’s try it, okay?” In his haste, the father pressed his thumb against the mother’s anus.
“Ah, how can this be? How could you even think of that? It’s so dirty.” The mother’s face flushed crimson with shame, and she pushed the father away.
“No, it’s okay, really. Jiang, just let me try.” The father’s stubborn voice held anxiety and pleading.
“It’s so small here, how can you insert it? And it will hurt a lot.” The mother hesitated. Under the father’s caresses, her vulva secreted some fluid, glistening under the light.
“How will you know it won’t work if you don’t try? Come on, Jiang… even if it’s just for me…” Father, perhaps imagining the sensation, had a rock-hard penis that he stretched open in Mother’s hands. Mother’s unease slowly subsided. She looked at the penis and murmured,
“Okay, just this once.” She propped her elbows on the bed, her rounded buttocks facing me. Her pubic hair was half-wet, half-dry, her tender pink labia half-open, revealing delicate, smooth, and glistening flesh in the middle. My lips were dry and parched from the turmoil, and imagining the sweet juice and tender pink flesh, my mouth finally watered.
“Ah, it hurts… it hurts…” Mother’s buttocks were smooth and flawless, unlike the overgrown pubic area. I could clearly see Father’s glans inserted into her anus.
“Just bear with it, you forgot, the first time is always like this…” Father placed his left hand on Mother’s smooth buttocks, while his right hand reached around to her breasts. He then pulled back slightly and thrust forward again. Although I couldn’t see Mother’s expression from behind, I could still hear a hint of pleasure in her painful groans. I thought Mother was in pain, yet also experiencing pleasure.
In the hidden darkness, my engorged penis throbbed in my hand, vast and boundless, like a lone wolf running for food on the grassland.
Mother’s panting and groans echoed in the quiet night, ethereal and mysterious, carrying the delicate moans and sobs unique to Eastern women, “I’m going to die… I’m really going to die…”
I seemed to feel the loneliness of a bamboo shoot breaking through the soil, and I even saw the blood, the cruel red…
**********
...
"Hmm, Mom, I'll go heat up some wine, let's have a few cups, okay?" My hand gently rested on my mother's warm mons pubis, slow and tender, like caressing a newborn baby.
Outside the window, yellow leaves fluttered against the old windowpane; the wind grew stronger, the sky darker.
"I'll go, you stay in bed, it's warmer." My mother lifted herself from my strong abdominal muscles, her voice soft and melodious, like pearls rolling on a jade plate, gentle and round. She turned her back, her delicate back shimmering with a crystalline light, and tears welled in my eyes. I was moved.
My mother lived fully in my past years, the most vibrant and vivid seventeen years of my life. It was in these days that I understood the secrets of the sky and nature, glimpsed the secret love between mountains and clouds, became familiar with the tender embrace of rice paddies and land, and participated in the rendezvous of the ocean and sandy shore… At
home were sixteen jars of "Daughter's Red" wine that my mother had brought with her as part of her dowry. My father didn't drink, and neither did my mother. It wasn't until my grandfather visited when I was sixteen that my mother retrieved the wine from the storeroom.
She opened the jar; the wine was a deep crimson, a powerful color that embodied the tenacious emotions of life, containing a rich tapestry of meaning: death and rebirth, lingering affection and liberation, disillusionment and reality, imprisonment and freedom…
“Qiao’er, this is my mother’s homesickness.”
I was jolted. My frail and delicate mother had been away from her parents’ home for over a decade. Her hometown, Huilin Town, wasn't far, yet I had never seen her return. Why, I didn't know. However, seeing her so grave today, I sensed a strange melancholy in the shimmering reflection of the wine. Warm flames danced in the charcoal stove, mingling with the wine.
“Mom, are you homesick?” A slight pang of pity welled up in my heart. Perhaps, as one grows older, homesickness comes and goes like the tides.
Two large tears welled up in my mother's pure and elegant face. She shook her head slightly. "No. Qiao'er, you're still too young to understand..." Her voice was as soft as smoke, drifting across the aged red windowpane.
"Mom, when can I go home with you to visit? I've never been to Grandma's house." My mother's eyes were shimmering and dreamy, captivating my heart. I gazed intently at the charming dimples at the corners of her lips, where so much tender affection and blissful longing were hidden.
I just stared, wishing I could see the world as dust on my eyelashes.
"Okay, we'll go back after your college entrance exam next year." My mother was somewhat delighted. "Actually, you've been back before, but you were only two years old then, and you've long forgotten."
"Come on, Mom, let's have a drink." I picked up the bowl; the wine, crisp and clear like the harsh winter outside the window, melted in my heart.
My mother, with her jade-like hands, also picked up the bowl and drank it all in one gulp. I had no idea my mother had such a high tolerance for alcohol. I looked at her with surprise and delight at the slight smile on her lips. She shone brightly on the mountaintop of my heart, clear and bright in my entire sky. How could I not love her? Completely captivated…
As I gazed at her, a blush suddenly rose on her beautiful face. "Still not enough, you silly boy…" My mother's playful scolding shattered my senses. How could I ever get enough? I stared into those deep, ocean-like eyes, those lingering whispers, a deep longing that time could not take away. In the depths of those enchanting eyes, I had already lost myself
…
I sank into that sea once more, surfing joyfully. My mother, in her murmured murmurs, opened herself up, embracing my strength. There was a melancholic, elusive beauty on her face. Finally, we were united once more, my mother, whom I had longed for day and night! The soft, melodious whispers of my mother echoed in my ears, gentle and tender, like the ocean's lament, shrouded in a golden mist.
My mother arched and swayed, but who knew? Beneath the calm surface of this tranquil lake lay a herd of wild, raging horses!
I silently gazed at her, and she gazed back at me with her deep, tender eyes. —In the depths of those eyes, I felt an irresistible allure.
"Oh… Bridge…" she moaned. I sipped the delicate, purplish-red, lustrous grains, taking a small bite, the milky aroma tempting my palate. I was startled to see her tremble, and my inner self was immediately drawn back into that warm sea. It was gentle and serene, bold and passionate, profound and deep, mysterious and transcendent…
Outside the door came shouts of passersby, "It's going to snow!"
And sure enough, the snow began to fall. Soon, a soft drizzle began, like sleet. Large raindrops, accompanied by natural hexagonal crystals, tapped against the black tiles of the roof, like a mother's nimble hands gently gliding across the strings of her zither, a melodious and tinkling sound…
My mother sat up, her anxious eyes peering through the latticed paper window. "It's snowing. It should be here by now…"
Outside, the snow, chased by the wind, swirled and danced, drifting and scattering, sometimes soaring into the air, sometimes stretching out its arms, and then crashing down upon the earth that yearned to embrace it. This snowy scene should have been a paradise of joy for children; the neighborhood kids had already run and cheered through the streets and alleys, stumbling and falling, their hearts filled with happiness.
I looked away; a layer of melancholy white clouded my mother's rosy lips.
“Mom, Dad will call when he arrives. Don’t worry, it’s not his first time going out. He’s been through much more dangerous things before, let alone this snow.”
My mother stretched out her snow-white arm, gathering the beaded gauze curtains. “You’re just happy by yourself, not worried at all, how heartless of you…” Her voice held a hint of displeasure, a soft scolding tinged with a touch of coquettishness.
“Mom, you’ve misunderstood me. My love for Dad is the same as yours, no different. I’m just saying, even if we worry here for ages, it’s useless. What’s meant to happen will happen, and what’s not meant to happen won’t happen. There’s no need to worry too much.” I felt a little wronged, withdrawing my fingers that were still inserted in my mother’s vagina. The strong smell of semen, like the aroma of fine wine, slowly faded.
“And you still say that? Look at you…” My mother trembled slightly, glared at me, put on her cotton coat, and closed her eyes in meditation.
I was speechless. In my position, I really didn’t know what to say. I fell into a dreamlike state within reality, and this dreamlike state seeped into my life. I was lost, as if I had exhausted myself in the search, as if I were still hesitating and wandering the streets of dreams, lost in the thick fog. My thoughts, in the instant my heart slightly opened, were lost...
I don't know if this counts as love. My mother doesn't acknowledge it, and I am completely bewildered. When I ran almost hysterically across my mother's vast grassland, all I knew was that the caresses that delighted me, the whispered words that intoxicated me, and the melodies and rhythms that stirred my emotions—everything in the world seemed incomparably beautiful and radiant, incomparably pure and harmonious.
In the great fusion and harmony of heaven and earth, I melted and merged, heaven and earth became one. In my intoxication, I forgot my father's existence; in my infatuation, I forgot the ethics of a son. It felt like a fleeting moment, yet also like an eternity. I can't recall how many days I've enjoyed such warmth, sweetness, and beauty…
I also don't know if, as my mother said, one day I'll find that comfort no longer so intoxicating, those whispers no longer so moving, and my mother's jade-like body will gradually turn yellow, her vibrant blooms will wither, and her firm, full breasts will shrivel like fruits in winter. Then I'll understand.
I was startled, confused, and terrified… Perhaps that day will truly come, when the sun, which I thought would never set, will descend, and I will stand alone on the vast, twilight-shrouded earth, crying out to the boundless sky in solitude.
My father finally called. They had arrived safely at their destination and had already set up camp, telling us not to worry. My mother happily lay back in bed, the radiance of love bathing everything. For the first time, I gazed at my mother with rational eyes. Her emerald-like face was filled with auspicious peace, and she slept soundly with her eyes closed, a holy and beautiful goddess! Tranquil and clear, dazzling and mesmerizing.
I gently placed my hand on my mother's mons pubis, her crescent-shaped vulva... overflowing my thirsty heart, my heart slowly settling in this stillness, slowly drifting into sleep...
(III)
When you bite into an apple, you say to it in your heart: "Your seed will live within me, your future sprouts will grow in my heart, your fragrance will become my breath, and we will spend all the years together happily."
—Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet 　**********
...
Her thin lips parted slightly, a soft, gentle smile revealing a row of neat, white teeth. A few faint lines appeared at the corners of her lips, adding a touch of shyness and timidity to her smile. The dressing table was an antique style, made of red sandalwood, and along with the huge red sandalwood bed and bedside table, it had all been brought from her mother's family. Several cosmetics and perfumes were on the dressing table, but she seemed never to have used them; they were simply displayed. She was naturally beautiful and needed no adornment.
My mother was skilled at playing the pipa, her singing melodious and clear. I felt that the description in Bai Juyi's "The Song of the Pipa"—"The sounds of the pipa are varied and harmonious, like pearls falling onto a jade plate"—was most fitting. My homeroom teacher, Wang Shan, was also a Chinese language teacher. She always favored me in the class, which I think stemmed from this poem, "The Song of the Pipa."
I remember last year when we were studying Bai Juyi's "The Song of the Pipa," Wang Shan happened to ask me a question about my views on the poem. I spoke eloquently. I said that "The Song of the Pipa" is not only a uniquely original narrative poem full of vitality, but it would also be an outstanding short story if rewritten as a novel. It has a rigorous story structure and vivid character descriptions; it can be said to be a true work of pure literature, a work that one can read again and again without getting tired of it.
Perhaps it was from that day that Wang Shan changed me from the class monitor to the language arts representative, thus entering my private life.
"Qiao'er, what are you staring at? Aren't you going to school?" My mother saw me looking at her and smiled slightly. She was so beautiful when she smiled! Her soft features possessed a classical splendor, yet were so lively and full of charm.
"Ah, Mom, you're so beautiful..." I abruptly withdrew my unrestrained gaze and stopped my wild thoughts. "Yes, I'm going to school today. Teacher Wang Shan said she's going to assign some homework." Because of the snow, the school had to give us a holiday suddenly, and the classes didn't have time to assign homework.
"Well, then hurry up and go. Stop dawdling here..." my mother scolded, tapping my nose. Her hand exuded a cool fragrance, and the smile on her lips was graceful and subtle, like a crape myrtle flower in the corner.
My heart fluttered, and I pulled her into my arms. The light was dim, and so were we; I, too, was like the morning mist, my vision blurred, a scene both real and dreamlike.
"Go away, haven't you had enough after a whole night of tossing and turning..." My mother playfully pushed me away, turned and walked towards the kitchen, still humming:
"In the prime of youth, one wanders the ends of the earth, adding a year, losing a year.
As dusk approaches, the crows fly home, opening one window screen, closing another.
Rain falls softly, wind whispers gently, gathering fallen petals, scattering fallen petals.
Bored and helpless, I sing a pipa tune, pluck a pipa tune.
My body has nowhere to rest, I call out to my nemesis, I curse my nemesis."
I recognized it as Feng Weimin's Northern Double Tune from the Ming Dynasty—the Toad Palace Tune "Four Scenes of a Woman's Lament." Her voice was clear and melodious, and for a moment, I was captivated...
**************************************
I pushed open the door, and my eyes were immediately brightened. The world that had been hidden from me by the tiled roof and paper windows last night was now a pure white expanse. Yesterday, the courtyard, littered with fallen leaves and looking quite messy, was now covered by a blanket of snow, like a huge, white handkerchief. The two jujube trees that my mother and I planted together stood majestically, clad in silver armor, proudly stretching their snow-white arms towards the sky. The river, less than ten meters away, was frozen solid, and the sound of its flow was inaudible.
I didn't cross the bridge, nor was a bridge necessary; the other side was open field. I walked through the snow towards the school.
Wang Shan's house wasn't actually in the school grounds, but behind it. It was a three-room house with stone walls and a tiled roof. When I arrived, Wang Shan was wearing an apron, her beautiful hands sticky as she rolled out dumpling wrappers.
Her cheeks were rosy.
"Come in quickly, it must be really cold outside. Look how frozen your little face is!"
I smiled at her, bowed, and went into her kitchen. The room was dimly lit. On the wall facing the door hung a faded New Year's picture: a chubby child riding on a goldfish with a curled tail. In the center of the room was a wooden square table and several benches. In the corner lay a pile of unwashed clothes, with Wang Shan's bra prominently displayed on top
. "Let's eat here for lunch. Wash your hands and help me roll out dumpling wrappers," Wang Shan said, having already taken off her apron and changed into a cotton undershirt. She also brought in a brazier, which was burning brightly. Her naturally slightly curly hair cascaded gracefully over her shoulders, and her full, charming face shone unusually brightly in the firelight.
"And him?" I often called her husband, in our world. She gazed intently at me, my reflection swirling in the depths of her dark pupils. She tiptoed and gently kissed my lips. In an instant, I felt a warm current flow through my body, and my heart seemed to stop beating on this winter morning.
"He's on duty. It's just the two of us today." She brushed the snowflakes off my coat. "The snow was so heavy. I finally waited for it to stop before calling you." Her voice trembled slightly, like notes floating in the wind.
She was thoughtful; the water in the basin was warm. After I washed my hands, she immediately nestled against my chest. The scent of grass and the fragrance of locust blossoms filled my nostrils, so clear and tangible.
"Missed me?" I squeezed her small hand. She smiled sweetly and shyly, lowered her head slightly, and then looked steadily into my eyes. I searched for the tenderness she offered in that clear spring. Memories, like scenes from a movie, kept replaying in my mind. I felt uneasy from time to time, wondering if everything I could grasp now was just an illusion. But reality often knocks on my heart's door. I clearly remember that after that passionate yet tender lovemaking, she held me tightly and said, "I hope you can remember me, remember today, remember how we loved each other."
"Come on, let's make the dumplings first, then prepare some soup. I know you can't swallow without soup."
Wang Shan married me from southern Jiangsu three years ago. She loves to cook, and she's quite skilled at it. She also loves to write poetry. In the world of poetry, she's like an innocent child, naive as if untouched by worldly affairs. Precisely because of this, she often clashes with her husband.
"'A request'? Did you write this poem recently?" I picked up a piece of paper from the table and read aloud, "I want to love once / I want to walk on the edge of life / To see the scenery on the other side of the coast / To see the roses and sails passing by / I want to love once / Like a little green insect loving / The wet flowers / To love once, I want to / Drink the honey water to the last drop."
"Shh, listen, that's the sound of snowflakes." She put her index finger to her lips, her clear eyes shimmering with a faint sense of the distance. She didn't speak anymore, but just rested her head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer; her body was soft and warm. We kissed.
Her tongue was sweet, with a slight minty taste, I think it was because of the toothpaste. It swirled, reaching straight into my throat, demanding, with fearlessness and infatuation.
"Your mom knows, does she know?" Her trembling lips whispered in my ear, "She answered the phone this morning, I... I'm a little scared." Her eyes were like the darkest night, deep and unfathomable, as if waiting for something, yet afraid of something.
"Silly boy, how could she know? Don't be afraid. I'm here." In her presence, our ages seemed to reverse; she wasn't twelve years older than me, but rather I was older than her.
"Oh, that's good. Hold me tighter..." Her dim eyes seemed to be dripping with oil, sparkling like seashells shimmering in the sunlight.
Perhaps because she was wearing so many clothes, it took some effort to remove her underwear. Her pubic hair was thick and dark, like a large forest. Judging from her appearance alone, it was hard to imagine that the pretty Chinese teacher who loudly recited "Lotus Pond at Night" in class possessed such abundant hair, and it was growing so vigorously. Her labia were purplish-black and turned outwards, darker than her original pale black mons pubis, not very attractive.
I first tried inserting my index finger, then my middle and ring fingers, but to my surprise, I brought out some wet, sticky fluid. "Ah, you just did it with him?" I was somewhat surprised, somewhat angry, though somewhat unreasonable, after all, they were a legitimate married couple.
"Ah, I'm sorry... this morning when I was about to leave, he, he insisted... saying..." She apologized, her face full of guilt, her tone becoming somber, perhaps sensing my coldness and dissatisfaction.
"Stop talking. Come on, open wider..." I commanded, placing one of her fair, slender thighs on the wooden table, the bench creaking beneath her. I could clearly see the bright red blood flowing beneath her skin, and at that moment, her face radiated the delicate beauty of spring flowers, the brilliance of the morning glow. Soon, a soft, gurgling sound came from her vagina, and a sticky stream of semen meandered from her narrow slit, like a wisteria vine hanging over the water, a purple hue reminiscent of a misty village in a painting.
Her fingers gently touched my enormous penis, pulling the foreskin back to the base, her little finger tapping my glans, murmuring lewd words. I covered her mouth with my hand, my body burning with heat, feeling myself sinking into swirling eddies. I suddenly cried out and thrust inside.
Generally speaking, she was the type of woman who was internally aroused, something I had noticed long ago. She was easily aroused, and once she got excited, she was uncontrollable, needing to release completely. I remember the last time I taught her Chinese class, halfway through, she suddenly told everyone to study on their own, and then instructed me to go with her to her dormitory to get my lab assignment. Actually, it was just that she got aroused.
The venomous snake lurking within me resurfaced, devouring my tranquil soul, turning the once-smooth river into a passionate torrent. With each thrust, my soul transcended my body, sensing the pulse of sex, listening intently to her deep moans as we spun. Using the lift of her hips, I easily brought her to orgasm, but this was only the first time; she wouldn't be exhausted without at least three.
I wondered if all women with delicate features were so passionate and unrestrained when aroused. Wang Shan wasn't conventionally beautiful, yet she possessed a captivating charm. At first glance, she resembled an Indian woman, with light brown skin, large, deep-set eyes, a delicate nose, and a few freckles that added to her allure. To outsiders, Wang Shan's marriage seemed perfect: her husband a doctor, she a teacher—a match made in heaven.
However, happiness isn't solely created by professions; personality plays a crucial role.
She cried out again. This time, her cry was choked with sobs, a heartfelt utterance—the prelude to another climax. Without touching her, I knew the bench beneath her was damp; with each tremor, her vulva oozed a gush of fluid, refusing to stop my penis from pressing against it. Looking down slightly, her labia were so alluringly parted, revealing glimpses of her white flesh mixed with viscous fluid with each thrust. I closed my eyes and began another series of rapid, rhythmic thrusts—the perfect balance for the desired effect.
"Tell me," I said, changing angle, thrusting in at a slight angle. Her body curled into a ball, legs intertwined, her gaze hazy with a mixture of pleasure and ecstasy.
“Of course… Qiao, as long as I’m with you, even if you don’t penetrate me, just talking to me for a while will give me pleasure…” I didn’t know if she was lying, if she was trying to please me, but I could feel her emotional struggle and release from the spasms inside her vaginal walls. It was accompanied by an almost hysterical passion, surging over me like a tidal wave.
“Shan, I want to penetrate your ass.” I deliberately used a vulgar tone. At this moment, her dependence and obedience to me were undeniable. My middle finger was inserted into her anus. Although it was only halfway in, I could still feel the contraction of her anus.
“Ah, can I insert it?” Her delicate chin lifted, and the few freckles on her face turned a purplish-red color in her excitement.
I was speechless. I simply inserted my middle finger all the way in and pulled it out, moving it back and forth dozens of times.
“Yes, baby, listen to me, come on, lie down…” I turned her over. Her buttocks were flushed red in the firelight, a few pubic hairs scattered around her anus, listless and with a hint of pity, just like her eyes at that moment.
“Shan, you have so much hair, even here.” I leaned over her, gently kissing her earlobe, blowing hot air into her ear. “After we’re done, I’ll pluck these hairs, okay?”
She cried. Her whole body trembled, convulsed, and clear tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. I comforted her, holding her waist with both hands.
“Shan, your anus is much tighter than your vagina… Does it hurt? Just bear with it for a while…” The bench supported our weight, her legs spread apart on either side of the bench, her face half-turned on it. I heard her heavy, turbid breathing and moans like a sprite wandering in the snow.
The school auditorium bell rang ten times; it was already ten o'clock in the morning. Wang Shan trembled all over, shuddered, and her anus tightened, squeezing my penis painfully. I thrust violently again, rubbing it with an unstoppable masculine power. Her hair fell loose, covering half her face, and she trembled in response to my rough, almost savage caresses.
This was a muddy road with no end; if there was one, it would only end when you were exhausted. So I let out a long sigh, thrusting hard, motionless, until all the semen in my body was injected into that muddy road.
(IV)
A wind that only wanders in a deep valley; a dike that only protects a crescent of stars.
**********
... Then, those dreams, like colorful soap bubbles, vanished one by one before I could even comprehend them, leaving no trace.
"Qiao'er, your uncle is coming today. Go to the old Shandong restaurant, Zhiweizhai, and buy some braised eggs and noodles. Remember to also get some spiced vegetables and sausages. Then go to the Children's Palace and ask your mother to come home and make noodles." My father sat in the old rattan chair in the courtyard, his eyes fixed on the exquisite, strangely shaped animal heads on the roof ridge. Behind him, on the clothes rack, were my mother's brightly colored underwear, her delicately trimmed petticoat, and our clothes. A half-empty cup of tea sat on the round table in front of him, and my father held a half-smoked cigarette, the smoke curling intermittently.
"Okay, I'll go right now." I put down my textbook, extinguished the sandalwood incense on the table, and closed the door behind me. My uncle and father were classmates, but one specialized in academia, while the other pursued a career in government; both had achieved considerable success in their respective fields.
I followed the stream bank, my feet sinking into the soft sand. A passenger car sped past on the opposite side of the road, kicking up clouds of dust. It seemed to be heading towards the Children's Palace. My mother ran a pipa (a traditional Chinese stringed
instrument) training class there, and many children from the town enrolled during their holidays, all drawn by her reputation. The Children's Palace was located on Xiaoli East Road in the town, in an old house rented by the government. Inside the fence in front of the house was a large, overgrown flower bed, long neglected, with only a lonely clump of canna lilies leaning against the corner. I pushed open the small fence, walked through the narrow corridor, and my nostrils filled with a faint fragrance. My mother had a bedroom at the end of the corridor, where she would take a nap at noon.
I stood outside her dimly lit door, thinking that classes should be over by now, and wondered if my mother was resting. Just as I was about to knock, I heard soft voices.
"Why are you here? Where's your sister-in-law?" My mother's voice was low and soft, coming through the old lattice window.
"She didn't come. I came to Maolin for a meeting and stopped by to see you." The voice was unfamiliar; though she tried to lower it, its depth was still evident.
"Hmm, so you came all this way. Maolin is thirty kilometers from here, and the road is bad." My mother's gentle tone seemed to hold a hint of warmth.
I was a little surprised and tiptoed to look through the window. The room was quite dark, requiring lights even during the day. I saw a thin, almost black, pale green wire hanging from the high ceiling above the table. The flower-shaped, milky-white lampshade looked like an upside-down, blooming white lotus from afar, casting a soft light on my mother's fair face. A burly man sat opposite her; I couldn't see his face, as his back was to me.
"It's been many years, sister. You haven't changed; you're as beautiful as ever." The man slowly reached out and grasped my mother's hand.
My mother trembled, her face flushing red. "Don't do this, brother..."
I froze. Could it be my uncle? What's he doing here? Dad thought he didn't know the way. I was about to call out when I suddenly saw my uncle grab my mother's hand and kiss it repeatedly. I was stunned. What was going on?
"No, don't do this, brother." My mother stood up, trying to pull her hand away. Her head hit the lampshade, and for a moment, the whole room was filled with her swaying figure. "It's been so long...you, you still..." My mother left the table, walked to the bedside, and faced the wall. I saw her shoulders shaking; she was clearly emotional.
"Only after loving do you know how deep the feeling is, only after being drunk do you know how strong the wine is. Sister, actually, I'm also very sad. Do you know how hard these days are..." My uncle choked up, and a strange smell hung in the air.
“Brother, don’t be like this… You know, I love Yu Nong, I’ll love him forever. We… we… that’s all in the past, forget it.” Mother cried too, taking out a handkerchief to wipe her tears.
“Sigh, if… if I hadn’t brought him home back then, you wouldn’t have met, and you wouldn’t…” My uncle walked behind Mother, his large figure blocking her view.
“No, brother, even if I hadn’t known him, we could never be together. One day I’ll get married, and you’ll get married…” Mother’s voice trembled like willow catkins in the wind, weak, no longer its usual elegance.
“Do you remember Red Leaf Valley?” My uncle took off his black-rimmed glasses, and in the dim light, I could vaguely see a strange melancholy and desolation floating in his eyes.
Mother was silent. She slowly turned around, gazing at him. “Don’t say anymore, I’ve long forgotten Red Leaf Valley.” Her eyes were hazy and unfocused, as if shrouded in a light blue veil.
“You won’t forget, I believe you.” My uncle gently lifted my mother’s chin. “I love your eyes, like a pair of black butterflies constantly fluttering their wings.”
My mother cried, two streams of tears welling up and dripping onto my uncle’s hand. “What nonsense are you spouting now, brother? We can’t make the same mistake again.” At first, she only choked back sobs, but then she couldn’t stop. She bent forward and wailed. It was the first time I had ever seen my mother cry so intensely. My uncle gently reached out and stroked her thin shoulder, then pulled her into his arms.
My mother slumped into my uncle’s arms, trembling all over, sobbing silently. Her tears and breath soaked my uncle’s shirt. I saw my uncle’s hands roaming over my mother’s body, as if searching for something. “My dear sister, don’t you love me anymore?” I saw my uncle pull a black bra from my mother’s bosom and sniff it intensely. “Didn’t you love me very much?”
“Ah, brother… back then, I was just a child, I only admired you. You could do everything. When I was bullied at school, you were the one who beat those bad students so they wouldn’t dare come back… But, but later…” My mother burst into tears and collapsed onto the bed.
“That year in Red Leaf Valley, we went to pick wild vegetables. You squatted under a tree, bent over, and stuck your little bottom out. When I saw your bulging bottom, I couldn’t resist the stimulation, so…” My uncle was tall and imposing, with a loud voice, unlike my father’s refined appearance. In comparison, my uncle was more masculine.
“No… brother, please stop.” My mother’s skirt was lifted up to her waist by my uncle, revealing her red lace panties.
"Later, we often did it in the pile of bellflowers behind the house. Little sister, your little hole was so tight back then, it hurt me so much..." The eldest uncle pulled Mother's panties down to her heels, and her pubic hair was immediately exposed under the light, smooth and neatly spread across her mons pubis.
"Mom found out later and beat me up, do you remember?" Mother's eyes were seductive, and her flushed face was filled with confusion. It was clear that her thoughts had drifted into the hazy past.
“How could I forget?”
“Back then, we were so scared. We knelt in front of Mom and begged her not to tell Dad about it, or he would beat us to death.”
“Yes, Mom didn’t tell him. She just asked us not to continue. But… but back then, we were so close… Sister, one night I climbed into your bed again. I was probably too loud, and Dad finally found out. In his rage, he broke my leg and made me bedridden for three months. Sister, I still remember you secretly coming to see me every night…” Uncle’s eyes reddened, tears welling up, clearly also immersed in memories.
My mother trembled all over, her legs spread wide, her eldest uncle's hand clamped between them. That hand kept manipulating her labia and clitoris, causing her body to sway. Indistinct words floated from her lips: "Yes, I was so afraid you would be crippled like this. Later, you, you don't know... Later, Dad forced you to go to school outside, and that's how you met Yu Nong..."
A strange stirring ran through my body, red blood flowing happily in my veins, impulsive and restless. This excitement coursed through my entire body. I wanted to shout, but only vague and meaningless sounds came out, merely escaping from my throat.
This was the second time I had seen my mother's naked body exposed to the air. It must have been a pearly gray of frosty morning, a pale yellow of late spring, or a cherry-red hue. These images were deeply rooted in my memory from that moment on. Her fair and clean face shone with a solitary, serene beauty, her two black eyes carrying the composure of a young woman, walking proudly through the dusty world.
My uncle thrust his hips forward with abandon, his penis brazenly penetrating my mother's deep, narrow valley, the simple wooden bed groaning pitifully. My mother's hands, raised casually, rested on his neck, like gracefully dancing water plants, passionately performing their dance in the wind. "We'll go to hell, brother..." Her confessional moans floated like notes on a musical staff, like the murmur of autumn insects, the gentle lapping of oars in a Jiangnan water town, each drop weaving through the passage of time.
"Oh...no, it can't be like this..." My mother's two pale legs swayed on my uncle's shoulders, her toenails painted with purplish-red nail polish, filled with the color of sin in the flickering light. I closed my eyes in sorrow, unable to believe my own eyes. The tunnel that should have been through for my father was now carrying a train that shouldn't be there...
But, but...I can't deny that this color of sin was so dazzling, like brilliant fireworks, blooming in my youthful sky, lingering for a long time. The two people, engrossed in their incestuous world, didn't hear my heavy breathing and labored breathing. My hands alternated between masturbating, my throbbing penis growing larger than usual, a stimulation that ran even more intense on my fragile yet lustful nerves than peeping at my mother and father making love.
The venomous snake lurking deep within my heart slowly awoke from its hibernation. It first cautiously peered into this strange world, then, slithering and flicking its tongue, it suddenly bit me, for at that moment I was most vulnerable and helpless.
The air, broken by this disturbance, was thinner than usual; the lush greenery of the Cultural Palace was a damp, misty green. With the movement of the air, the fragrance of various flowers and plants drifted outside—mountain jasmine, osmanthus, and seven-mile fragrance—or a mixture of grasses wafting from somewhere, mingling with the smells of sweat and semen from inside, accumulating in my throat, impossible to dispel. My heart lingered in this desolate scene, feeling as if I had lost something important that I would never be able to find again.
My uncle kept changing positions, a frivolity I would never find in my father. My father was always proper in lovemaking, occasionally changing positions to seek some excitement, but it was only occasional. I watched as my uncle placed his hands under my mother's buttocks, while my mother's arms were wrapped around his neck, her body rising and falling, each time heavily pounding against my chest.
My mother's pubic hair was messy like straw, her vaginal fluids splattered on her genitals, and the place where I was born was so ugly, carrying decadence and vulgarity, carrying disillusionment and seductive power, stirring a naive soul that was about to step into the hall of enlightenment. Perhaps I didn't know that this disillusionment was a kind of exhilarating self-torture. From then on, I would disdain wasting my energy on the outdated rules and regulations of this secular system. I would simply walk my own path, remain silent, drink my own soup, and mix the wine of life, making it a death with a sweet, wine-like flavor that only I could taste.
Soon, my uncle increased the force of his hip thrusts, plunging his dark, hard penis into my mother's deep, dark corner, where it remained motionless for a long time. I heard my mother's mournful sighs, her fair and clean face radiant. My elegant and leisurely, beautiful mother lay sprawled, her hands and feet spread wide, revealing her lewdness and decay, the gushing semen carrying a chilling aura.
"How is Yu Nong?" The eldest uncle sat heavily on the bed, exhaling heavy breaths as he smoked a dark-colored pipe. "How is Qiao'er?"
"He's still not well. I've been getting him medicine according to Dad's prescription, but it's only managing to control it." The mother picked up the clothes that had been discarded on the floor. "Qiao'er is doing well in school, so I'm not too worried."
My uncle helped her fasten her bra. "He's not in good health. Could Qiao'er be my son? I remember we were doing this the day before your wedding." I closed my eyes, hearing the rustling of my mother dressing, and felt as if the world was about to end, as if the heavens and earth were about to burn.
"Tch, Qiao'er is Yu Nong's, that's right. I had him six months after I married him, don't think such nonsense." My mother's slender fingers brushed away my uncle's hand that reached out. "It's too late, let's go back quickly."
"You go back first, I'll go later, I still have some things to take care of here." My uncle's hand was kneading my mother's breast, revealing a reluctant expression, "I don't know when I can make love with you like this again, sister..."
"We can't come again. Don't you have a sister-in-law? How come you still don't have children?"
"Sigh, sister, you don't know, your sister-in-law is frigid, every time I make love with her it's like making love with a zombie. Unlike you, you're like a furnace..." As my uncle spoke, he reached his hand into my mother's newly put-on underwear.
"Hehe, this is karma, I guess. Brother, no wonder people say your sister-in-law is a cold beauty." Seeing my mother enjoying herself so much in his arms, I felt a violent force within me wantonly ravaging my soul, gnawing at youth, dreams, and love, shattering all the precious things in the world. I really wanted to rush in and kill them all, but I knew I couldn't!
"Soon, we will sink into the cold darkness, farewell, our summer's too-short-lived bright light! I can already hear the sound of sorrow colliding and falling, the loud wood landing on the courtyard slabs." I thought of the first stanza of Baudelaire's poem "Autumn Song."
Confusion mixed with anger, like boiling mud about to choke me, my helpless eyes pleaded for help, reaching towards the sky. In these bleak years, not knowing where I was going, every step was aimless. I wanted to find an exit. Because heaven had given me a blessed curse, requiring me to use myself as a furnace, to temper my sharpness in the raging flames.
However, after forging, my world was already a ruined world, my soul and thoughts were bound by heavy shackles and handcuffs, even if I were surrounded by gold, I would still drift aimlessly for life. 　(
V)
Your moon-white body holds all the passion, your eyes are like the bluish-white water flowing down an iceberg, containing all good, all evil...
********** ...
A realization dawned on me. I withdrew my gaze, grabbed a mirror from the table, and smirked… Hey, it felt like the first time I heard that unfamiliar, dry sound emanating from my throat, the first time I saw the habitual twitching of the muscles on my face.
In the mirror, my upturned lips suddenly fell, my bewildered eyes filled with a deep, pool-like resentment. I threw the mirror down, and it shattered. I saw countless versions of myself muttering curses, cursing life, as if trying to destroy something…
Mother returned, light and joyful, holding a bouquet of vibrant red and purple flowers. “I’m back, Yu Nong.” Father sat leisurely in his wicker chair, reading a book, without even looking up. “Why are you only coming back now? Qiao’er looked for you but couldn’t find you. Weren’t you at the Children’s Palace?” Father believed my lie.
“Ah, Qiao’er looked for me?” Mother’s face turned ashen instantly. Her bewildered eyes lifted, meeting mine on the second floor. But the eyes she saw were so clearly unfamiliar, filled with a simmering, violent aura.
“I…I’ll go arrange the flowers.” My mother stammered, hurriedly arranging the bicycle and stiffly walking past my father.
Her steps were slow and heavy. “Qiao’er, did you go to the Children’s Palace to see me?” Her voice trembled, like a note out of tune. I mocked her haste and unease. “No, I didn’t go.” My spine felt extremely uncomfortable, stiff, and stagnant.
“No, you did. Qiao’er, otherwise your once gentle, sheep-like eyes wouldn’t be so cold and heartless.”
My mother gripped my arm tightly, her once clear eyes suddenly turning murky. “Qiao’er, don’t look at me like that, Mom…my heart aches so much…”
“Mom, I didn’t see anything.” My answer was hesitant, my gaze passing through the wooden bars on the window, looking at the blue sky outside. My face must have been filled with hostility and depression. Years later, my mother often mentioned this to me, saying that at the time, she felt as if a thousand arrows were piercing her heart. How much she wished then that I would take a knife and personally cut out her heart and flesh, but I didn’t.
It was a sorrow, tinged with a gentle weariness. Perhaps at that moment, no words of grief could express it. In my eyes, in my mouth, in every movement, everything I saw was so heartbreaking for my mother. However, what followed was even more uncontrollable, completely beyond our imagination. Afterwards, I felt like I had been shot, my whole body collapsing to the ground. I could only hear my mother's cries: "Ah, my child! Qiao'er..."
My mother and I faced each other in the eerie bedroom. The wind chimes hanging on the window tinkled crisply in the breeze, but the melodious sound did not dispel my sorrow; instead, it broke the silence between us.
"Child, please... please don't say anything..." My mother lowered her head, her voice weary and tired, her accent veiled as if covered by something, stuttering. I looked at her pale face, her eyelids surrounded by dark circles, and her long, thick eyelashes glistening with scattered tears.
My heart softened, and I reached out to wipe her face, warm and damp. "Mom, don't worry... I, I won't tell Dad... but, but..."
Just then, I heard my father's joyful shouts coming from the courtyard downstairs, "Hey Peixiong, why are you only coming now? I've been waiting for you for ages!" My mother and I were both startled. She blushed slightly, remained silent, and just stared at me blankly, her eyes filled with a peculiar emotion—pity, tenderness, pain, regret, and helplessness...
Suddenly, an indescribable lust surged within me, and that ambiguous look and blurred expression transformed into a series of erotic scenes in my eyes. In my eyes, my mother was naked. I suddenly ripped open her collarless short-sleeved top, revealing her black bra.
My mother gasped, "Ah, Qiao'er..." Her beautiful cheeks lost their color. "No, don't do this..." I smiled coldly, my face contorted in pain. "Take it off, take off your pants, quick..." My voice was hoarse and strained, yet tinged with excitement.
I eagerly embraced my mother's petite body. Her bra slipped to the floor under my pull, revealing her delicate breasts. My mother moaned in pain, weak and pitiful. Her fragile, tense skin resembled a white sail ruffled by the wind, glowing crimson under my caresses.
Our blood was boiling. Downstairs, my father called out, "Qiao'er, come down and see your uncle!"
I thrust into my mother's vagina, warm and moist, just as I had imagined. My mother's hands rested on the windowsill, her long, black hair cascading over her thin shoulders, undulating like waves with my thrusts.
I didn't remove my mother's panties; I simply pushed them aside and thrust my hard penis deep inside. My mother buried her face in her hands, moaning, enduring my fierce and powerful thrusts, like a seasoned lover. I moved quickly and rhythmically, teasing each of my mother's defenses and destroying them one by one.
At my father's renewed shout, I answered heavily, "I'll be right down..." The shadows of dusk slowly unfolded, and I felt waves of chills wash over my body. I gritted my teeth and ejaculated a stream of semen. In that instant, I knew I had become an adult!
******************************
Dinner was sumptuous, and in a harmonious atmosphere, I obediently raised my glass to my uncle, exchanging greetings of peace. My uncle pointed at me, then turned to my father and said, "Look how big the bridge is now; no wonder we're all getting old." I glanced at my mother; her face was still as pale as paper, her gaze fixed on the distant, hazy mist.
She suddenly stood up. "After you've finished eating, make some tea. I'm going to the kitchen." She gathered the bowls, chopsticks, and cups on the table, placing them in a large wooden tub, and carried it towards the kitchen. My father continued talking to my uncle, and I glanced sideways to see his gaze lingering thoughtfully behind my mother.
"Dad, Uncle, you two talk. I'll go help Mom." I followed my mother, her slender, alluring figure constantly drawing me in. I knew what it would be like if awakened desire were to break free of its cage.
"Ah, how did you get in? Don't make a scene..." My mother tried to break free from my embrace in surprise, her expression like that of a wounded fawn.
"They're having a good chat! Mom, let me help you." I slipped my fingers inside my mother's vagina, stirring the pool of spring water. "Mom, there's my water in here..." There was another sentence I didn't say: my uncle's filthy fluid was also mixed in.
"You, you only know how to bully your mother, I might as well be dead..." My mother was a little angry, her face filled with sorrow and anger, which touched my soft heart.
"I'm sorry, Mom. You know I love you." I kissed her delicate earlobe affectionately, her face turning red and white, her shy expression reflected on her face like clouds reflected in water.
"Qiao'er, we can't go on like this, Mom will die..." My mother's face turned red to her ears, that embarrassing scene I will never forget. I held her delicate body tightly. "Mom, no, I want you to live forever, and we'll love each other for a long time!" Her underwear had been changed to a peach-pink pair. I tried to pull it down, but my mother clamped her thighs together, refusing to let go.
"Qiao'er, loosen your grip a bit, I can't breathe." Perhaps hearing my father and the others talking loudly in the courtyard, she relaxed a little, leaning against the stove, her gaze hazy with a lost in thought.
"Okay, Mom. Actually, I've liked you for a long time. You know what? I once saw you and Dad making love, and from that day on, I fell deeply in love with you." I knew I was telling the truth, from the bottom of my heart, because this was my first love. But things didn't go as I expected. I had unknowingly fallen in love with my mother and considered her my first love.
"Nonsense. When did you see that? How come I didn't know?" My mother looked at me with some surprise and shyness, a girlish curiosity appearing on her innocent face.
“Silly Mom, if you knew, it wouldn’t be peeping. Let’s not talk about this anymore, Mom, you’re so wet…” My fingers were trickling with a trickle of lustful fluid, like spring rain nourishing the earth. I knew my mother’s passion was mixed with shame, sorrow, and bitterness, yet also full of passion and joy.
“Mmm… Bridge, I’m really going to die…” My penis pierced her firm vulva like a plow, trying to dig a source of life, to break down the soil, to fertilize it. I wanted to make its fertile fields bloom with flowers, to give it new understanding and enlightenment… One soul was stripped naked, and another soul was reborn.
I buried my head between my mother’s breasts, inhaling the fragrant milk, while my hair was held in her hands, stinging and stimulating my sexual nerves even more. My powerful thrusts caused my mother, sitting on the stove, to stumble backward, but my hands held her legs firmly. I watched my penis move in and out, the surging spray and gushing fluids vividly writing a new chapter in my life under the stirring of my young penis.
"Faster, faster, Mom can't take it anymore... Don't be so rough... Don't..." My mother let out a wanton moan, sobbing, seductive and low, like a lark soaring over a flame.
In this movement filled with desire and struggle, I captured a resonance of spiritual pleasure. I realized that sex could be so beautiful, the sounds of intercourse the most beautiful music in life. I felt that my mother's moans during orgasm were like a string of silver bells trembling in the wind, like flowers possessing their fragrance, intoxicating me at all times.
"Is he staying here tonight?" I asked my mother, who was gushing thick, lustful fluids, her vulva flushed and glistening, as alluring as a plump, round lychee.
"Of course, you can sleep with your uncle tonight, okay?" My mother's eyes were filled with inquiry and pleading. She hoped I would get along well with my uncle, after all, he was family.
"No, Mom, you know I'm used to sleeping alone. How about this, I'll set up a bed in the living room."
I couldn't refuse my mother's wish; her sorrowful eyes were like a silent weapon, capable of striking me at any moment.
"Hmm, Qiao... thank you..." My mother's smile broadened, her beautiful face, radiant with warmth, deeply moved me. My heart pounded.
"Mom, come on, I've thought of a position, lift your legs."
"Don't do it again, don't you even look at the location?" My mother firmly refused, clearly worried about being discovered.
"Look, they're chatting happily." I peeked into the yard at my father and uncle, wrapped my mother's left leg around my waist, and inserted my penis. The "pop" sound filled every corner of the kitchen. My mother's eyes were slightly closed, a faint smile playing on her lips. A few incoherent murmurs escaped her bright red lips, unlike the songs she usually sang, yet all the more captivating.
Perhaps
it was the day's exhaustion, but I slowly drifted off to sleep to the fragrance of flowers wafting from the window. Today had been too much, too fast, overwhelming me, leaving me flustered, bewildered, and even, at one point, filled with despair. Fortunately, my youthful self quickly withstood this agonizing test, transforming it into a possessive force—a distorted form of maternal love, yet one that remained steadfast and unwavering.
At the moment my erect penis entered her, my mother trembled and said, "This will condemn us to eternal damnation, to the deepest hell. I don't care." I said, "Mom, even beasts have a mother's instinct for her offspring, like wolves, where mother and cub commit incest to procreate." That time in the kitchen, when I knelt down to sip her gushing, thick fluid, she was shy. When I looked up and said this nectar was the water of life, the ever-flowing motherly love, she trembled with emotion.
Reflecting on the whole process, I used my youthful enlightenment, my unique talent, to interpret and understand my love; perhaps my mother was trying to do the same at the same time! As she responded to my thrusts in countless ways, through the contortions of her body, I could feel her intense love flowing subtly into my sea of passion. That day, at sixteen, I was intoxicated, intoxicated, and plunged into an abyss.
＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊
At first, there was a rustling of footsteps, which I paid no attention to. Then, it seemed as if a breeze flowed into the living room through the window cracks. I felt a slight chill and woke up.
I saw my mother tiptoeing past the living room cupboard; her slender waist, bathed in the moonlight, seemed draped in a moon-white veil. What was she going to do?
I closed my eyes slightly and gently snored. My mother walked up to me, silently watching me for a long time. I heard her soft, delicate breathing, carrying a faint, feminine scent. The living room was silent, the air filled with the subtle fragrance of orchids. My mother sighed softly, then turned and went back inside.
However, to my shock and anger, she went to my room. The door opened softly and closed softly.
I lay in bed, feeling a nameless sorrow—for my father, for myself, and for this deep love. I got up and went to my father's room. He was already snoring loudly, having long since fallen asleep due to the alcohol. How could he have imagined that his wife was having an affair? And this man was his best friend from school, and even more so, his own brother-in-law!
The room still carried a faint smell of semen. My father was completely naked, his lower body tattered, and the towel beside him was stained. It was clear that he and my mother had made love passionately before bed.
I could almost hear my mother's soft moans again, like sobs and pleas, and my heart trembled.
“Sister, I’m going back tomorrow. Once I leave, I don’t know when we’ll see each other again.”
“Sigh, brother, maybe in a few years. I want to go back to my parents’ home after Qiao’er’s college entrance exam. But you don’t live there.”
“Yes, I’m the deputy secretary of the municipal party committee in Yuzhou, but I might be transferred. Sister, Yuzhou isn’t far from here. When will you come to visit?”
“We’ll see. You know I’m busy at home and can’t get away. Don’t quarrel with your sister-in-law at home; it won’t sound good if word gets out. Why don’t you have a baby? That would make things more lively.”
“I want to have one, but can I have one by myself? You don’t know your sister-in-law; she’s busy being a TV host all day long. Sometimes I don’t even see her for a month; I can only see her on TV.”
“Hehe, that’s true. You two are on TV all the time; you can just turn on the TV to see whoever you want. It’s quite convenient.” “Pah, you
’re just being sarcastic. Sister… you haven’t aged at all these years; in fact, you’ve become even more charming.”
“Brother, you’re here again. We’re always doing these shameful things. If people find out, how will we survive?”
“If it’s shameful, no one will find out. Sister, oh… you’re all wet here. You and he were really going at it just now…”
“He drank too much last night. He couldn’t get it out for ages. He was up half the night. Brother, let’s stop… I’m tired. You should rest too.”
“You’re so thoughtful, you knew I was waiting for you.”
“Look at you. If I hadn’t come, you wouldn’t have slept all night. Don’t, don’t be so loud…”
“Hey, sister, it feels so different with you, so exciting. Every time I do it with you, I feel like I’m in heaven…” “Ah
, you only care about the thrill, you don’t care about the other person’s life… Oh, brother… a little further back, a little deeper…”
My mother’s soft voice came through the crack in the door. Although the doors in the house were never locked, I didn’t want to open them and see this heartbreaking scene again. I could picture my mother kneeling on the bed, my uncle's penis thrusting between her legs. Perhaps it was a possessive mentality, but I never considered that my mother didn't just belong to me; she belonged to all our relatives.
I sat sullenly on the sofa in the living room, watching the moon's shadow dance on the ceiling, motionless for a long time.
I don't know how much time passed before my mother came out of my room. Seeing me sitting upright on the sofa, she was startled, almost screaming. She quickly covered her mouth, looking at me with surprise and panic, stunned.
"Qiao'er, you, you...you're not asleep..." she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. She glanced back at the room in surprise, then turned back to look at me.
"He's asleep?" I was surprised by my composure, far beyond my years.
"Yes, he was tired too. As soon as we finished...he collapsed..." My mother's face was flushed, like peach blossoms in March, blooming with the fragrance of a quiet night. “But you’re not tired, Mom.” As soon as I finished speaking, I saw my mother’s face turn pale instantly. She trembled and looked at me sadly.
I didn’t say anything more. When my mother fell into my arms, she was as soft as a cat. Her moans had a particularly gentle meaning, with pleading and appeasement, as well as some comfort and tranquility.
I put two fingers inside and dug around for a while. Thick semen swirled in her warm, moist vulva. I knew that it was mixed with my father’s and my uncle’s semen, and perhaps still contained the essence of my passionate ejaculation that evening.
My mother glanced at me sideways, her eyes lustful and confused. “Don’t do it here. What if someone comes out and sees us?
Let’s go downstairs.”
“Okay, let’s go to your music room.” I picked her up and slowly walked down the stairs. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her eyes full of affection.
The first floor was divided into three rooms: one for storage, one for the kitchen, and one for my mother's music room. Various musical instruments were placed inside, including a piano, clarinet, trumpet, trombone, and mostly a pipa.
The ticking of the clock echoed in the darkness, serious and slow, just like the sound of my lovemaking with my mother at that moment. The faint fragrance of purple chrysanthemums mingled with my mother's unique milky scent in the quiet night. Her low moans were like footsteps on moss, while her soft cries were like the sobs of a baby.
My mother straddled me, and I sat in an old-fashioned armchair. With each rise and fall of my body, my mother's breasts bounced up and down like rabbits. The chair creaked, and my mother hummed with ecstasy. Her long hair danced in the wind, like willows swaying in a gentle breeze, scattering back and forth. At the climax, she kneaded her breasts with her small hands.
My penis thrust deep into my mother's vagina, each penetration revealing its firmness and solidity. A hidden current flowed within, attempting to carry my hardness into that deep sea. My penis struggled and meandered forward, undeterred by any hidden paths or forks in the road.
I cried out, a deep pain escaping my lips, releasing every pent-up resentment and hatred. My energy was overwhelming, so much so that my mother, in her excitement, suddenly leaned on my shoulder and bit me hard.
I didn't cry out; I held her tightly, my penis pressed firmly against her firm vulva, deep, deep.
(VI)
******************************
Greedy eyes always appear gloomy, as if looking down upon the beehive that must be destroyed to extract honey. Instinct is already etched into their bones; desire has become an incurable disease. I wrapped myself in an old overcoat and stood by the window outside
,
looking at the sky. The sky was overcast, with only a thin layer of clouds, but the sun was nowhere to be seen.
A faint scent of earth wafted from afar. I opened my arms, welcoming this joyous surprise. Yesterday's heavy snow seemed to have washed away all the filth and chaos of the world, leaving the earth fresh and clean, bringing with it a sense of joy and tranquility.
"Qiao'er, come in for dinner," my mother called affectionately. To outsiders, we were a perfect mother and son, kind and filial, with excellent relationships with our neighbors. The neighbor's mother, Erleng's wife, always praised me in front of the other women in the neighborhood, her voice clear and melodious, with a lingering resonance—truly befitting a former Yue opera actress.
"What would you like to eat, Mom?" I asked, pushing open the door and entering. My mother, wearing a deep red cotton coat, her hair flowing like a waterfall, was setting the table. My mother's noodles were the most delicious I've ever tasted. She'd stew pork head bones in a rich broth, then cook the noodles in it. She'd cut the meat from the bones into small pieces, dip them in soy sauce and minced garlic, and eat them with wine . The joy of this family meal was indescribable. To borrow a joke from *Xiaolin Guangji*, "It was so comfortable it made me feel like I was floating on clouds!"
My mother watched me wolf down my food with great interest. "Qiao'er, you can't eat any more. Look at your body, you can't get any bigger." I was strong and powerful, unlike my father's frail physique. Although my mother said I was his child, I still inherited the ruggedness of her maternal family's men. My face was the kind with rough lines, like it was carved with a knife, exuding masculinity. My robust physique made me a hot commodity at school.
I excelled in sports at school, renowned throughout the region and even the province, especially in volleyball.
However, basketball has been developing quite rapidly lately, and the basketball coach even approached me, challenging the volleyball coach to let me join. He even asked someone to contact my mother.
I ultimately chose basketball, not because of my mother, but because of the basketball coach, or more precisely, because of his wife, Feng Ling.
The school library wasn't large, but it had a vast collection of books, especially those related to drama and painting, which perfectly suited my tastes. At first, the librarian was an old man, and I didn't pay much attention to him. It wasn't until two months ago that a middle-aged woman took over, speaking with a strong Northeastern accent. Initially, she would try to chat me up when no one else was around, but I didn't feel anything for her, especially since I had just started dating Wang Shan and we were deeply in love. I didn't want to look at other women, except for my mother, of course. I only
became truly familiar with her because of my second aunt, who owns a bookstore. I often dealt with her, and she had seen my photo at my second uncle's house once and said she remembered me. My second aunt then betrayed me, often asking me to go with her to discuss business. That's when I finally learned her full name was Feng Ling.
"Mom, it's been so long since I've heard you play the pipa. How about you play something?" I wiped my mouth and suddenly wanted to hear a piece.
"Sure, what should I play? How about 'Dream of the Red Chamber'?" My mother rarely asked me to listen to her storytelling, so she was a little surprised and happy.
"Okay, this little tune will do. I love listening to it." Recently, "Dream of the Red Chamber" has been frequently replayed on TV, and I think my mother played it out of inspiration. My mother smiled gently, holding the pipa, and sat in the chair. Her posture was dignified and graceful, like a delicate freehand painting of a lady.
"Endless tears of longing fall like red beans, endless spring willows and flowers bloom in the painted pavilion, sleep is restless after the wind and rain at dusk, unable to forget new and old sorrows, unable to swallow the jade-like grains and golden water shields choking the throat, unable to see the thin reflection in the mirror. Unable to relax the brows, unable to endure the endless nights. Ah! Just like the ever-present green mountains, the endless flowing green waters."
I rested my hand on my chin, watching my mother's gestures, skillfully twisting, plucking, kneading, and pushing, while her voice, sweet and melodious, always made one forget worries and transcend worldly concerns. The poignant and sorrowful mood of the song was vividly portrayed by my mother, especially the last line, "the endless flowing green waters," which pushed the daughter's sorrow, grief, joy, and happiness to a climax. I thought of the tragic fate and end of beautiful 　women , of the withering and decay of my daughters' beautiful faces in the snow...
I gazed at my mother, mesmerized. 　My basketball coach, Fan Dong, is from Northeast China, and his wife is also from there; the whole family speaks the Northeastern dialect. 　Even though I've been here for many years, my accent remains strong, making communication with them initially very difficult. They don't live on campus; they rent a place near Gulou. The landlord's son, Qiu Li, is also in my class. I arrived at the school 　with Feng Ling on a winter night. That afternoon, the library was deserted. I had just finished copying some materials and was about to go home when Feng Ling came over and asked me to help organize some books. I couldn't refuse, so I helped her for a long time without success. Seeing that it was getting late, I said I had to go home, and she asked me to walk her home, which I agreed to. 　The night was beautiful, with a few stars in the woods, as we walked slowly along the long educational road. As we walked and talked, a dog suddenly darted out from behind a tree, snarling and panting. Feng Ling cried out in surprise, her body going limp as she was about to collapse. In that instant, I quickly caught her. The dog ran away, and Feng Ling lay in my arms, her gaze fixed on me. After a few dozen seconds of silent staring, she slowly closed her eyes. 　In the pale white moonlight, her body was as radiant as the moon itself. Although her figure wasn't perfect, her skin was delicate and smooth, in no way inferior to my mother's flowing skin. I kissed her slightly plump lips; there was a strange taste, but perhaps that was it, it aroused my desire. I couldn't wait to pull down her loose-fitting underwear, the kind with drawstrings. It smelled slightly fishy, but that didn't matter. 　Her hand had already gripped my penis tightly. Her icy hand, inside my crotch, was quickly warmed by her touch. She skillfully manipulated it, sometimes loosening, sometimes tightening, occasionally playing with my testicles. My penis grew enormous under her caresses; the biting wind did nothing to diminish its sudden surge of heat and power. "Come on, you bitch..." I didn't pull down my pants, but simply pulled my penis out of my crotch and, in the moonlight, thrust it straight into her vagina. 　She knelt on the ground, her hands gripping the roadside branches, her two plump legs spread wide, my enormous penis penetrating her overgrown vulva. Her mons pubis was dark, not just because of the deep night, but because its base color was a dull, dark black—the kind of naturally alluring vulva. 　"Ah, Xiaoqiao, you're so good..." Her moans and cries, indistinct and lewd, sounded even more wanton and seductive in the quiet moonlight. Soon, her low moans turned into joyful, lewd chants. I don't know if she was like this when she was with the coach, but I know her first orgasm had arrived. 　"Why did you come so quickly, you little bitch?" I've always preferred petite, reserved women. A rough, burly Northeastern woman like Feng Ling is just a seasoning to me. Therefore, I deliberately abused her, hurling filthy insults at her. Strangely, she didn't seem to care at all; instead, she became even more energetic, just shaking her body wildly. Her second orgasm followed. 　She seemed to crave the pleasure of being abused. Her gaze was intense and bold, her breasts heaving as she lay sprawled on the roadside grass. "Good man, you won't even help your sister put it on..." 　"Come on, good sister, I'll help you put it on." I casually pinched her vulva, then picked up her pants that had fallen to the ground. I was astonished; it was the first time I'd ever seen someone tie a belt with a rope, especially in a knot like the Arhat's knot. If she hadn't cooperated so well, I would have had to cut her with a knife to rape her. "You tie it yourself; I don't know how to tie this kind of belt," 　I chuckled, helping her pull up her pants. After making love, she seemed rather demure and shy, no longer the wanton woman she had been moments before, reverting to the dignified demeanor of a librarian. 　"Does the coach fuck you every day?" I reached into her crotch and rummaged around for a while; it was wet and sticky, flowing with our semen. 　"Hmm, more or less. But you're different from him." Feng Ling rested her head on my chest, looking at me with deep affection. "You're more refined and knowledgeable than him. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you in the library..." 　Actually, she was older than my mother, and had a daughter in her final year at our school. Looking closely, I could see layers of flabby flesh on her lower abdomen, pubic hair spreading like vines, and most strikingly, her breasts were enormous and sagging heavily—a typical physique of a middle-aged woman. Both were middle-aged women, so why did my mother still look as beautiful and youthful as a girl? 　"Oh, so you want me to join the basketball team, so we'll have a better chance, right?" 　"Yes. Qiao, don't laugh at me, I'm so old, and... But I really like you, really." 　"Alright, alright, let's go. Coach Fan is waiting for you at home." I was getting impatient; she really seemed to be serious. Even if she was playing games, I'd be with her daughter. Her daughter, Fan Susu, was considered one of the school's most beautiful girls. Perhaps due to genetics, she was the tallest in the entire school, but unfortunately, her chest was too flat, and many classmates secretly called her "Airport." 　"Hmm, then kiss me again," she said in a deliberately coquettish tone, which was honestly a little funny, but I still went up and kissed her. Her sweaty tongue slipped inside, swirling around in my mouth. Suddenly, an idea struck me. "I'll come to your library tomorrow, remember?" That kind of tongue is perfect for oral sex. Imagining her squatting in the library licking my penis, I felt a surge of lust and really wanted to finish her right there. But I didn't want to do it in this cold, snowy weather; it just wasn't comfortable.

Such a night is perfect for lighting a charcoal fire under the dim lamplight, letting the flames roar and illuminate two intertwined bodies.
I watched her beaming, pinched her chin, and said, "You go first, I'll watch you leave." Her silhouette appeared dark and lonely in the pale moonlight, seemingly carrying a sense of desolation. I stood in the vast field, looking at the solitary moon in the sky, feeling somewhat lost.
**********
The doorbell rang. Who would come on such a cold day? My mother answered and went to open the door.
It was Wang Shan. We hadn't seen each other for only ten days, and she couldn't suppress her longing; she had finally come. "Ah, it's Teacher Wang, come in quickly." My mother happily led her inside. Today, she was wearing a light purple Western-style dress, her hair loose, a floral silk scarf around her neck, dressed conservatively, and enveloped in the snow.
"Is this Teacher Wang's first time visiting our home?" My mother took a towel and patted her down a few times, then warmly took her hand.
"Yes, I've always wanted to visit, but I haven't had the time. I'm so sorry." Wang Shan seemed a little embarrassed by my apparent displeasure at her visit.
Actually, ever since we got together, she hadn't dared to visit my home. She felt as if she had committed a crime, seducing a young student, and she felt utterly ashamed.
"Qiao'er, how can you be so rude? Why don't you add some fuel to the fire for your teacher?" My mother gently nudged me when she saw me standing there blankly. "Come on, Teacher Wang, come upstairs and sit down."
"Ah, okay. Teacher Guo, your house is so big!" There were actually quite a few old-style houses like ours with courtyards in the town. I knew Wang Shan was making a fuss, so I took advantage of my mother's inattention and gave her a hard pinch on the bottom. I believe it hurt a lot, because Wang Shan's face showed pain. She turned around and glared at me fiercely before following her mother upstairs.
"Come on, have a cup of tea to warm yourself up." When we got to the second floor, my mother poured a cup of green tea, steaming hot, the tea leaves floating up and down, their yellow color inviting. It was my father's favorite "Quangang Huibai." "This house is quite simple, I'm sorry to have made Teacher Wang laugh."
"Teacher Guo, please don't be so polite, you should really treat me like family." Wang Shan turned her head and looked at me charmingly, "Xiao Qiao is doing very well in his studies, and I love him very much. I think it's because you, Sister, have taught him so well. Ah, shall I call you Sister?"
I put down the stove, walked over and sat down next to my mother, watching Wang Shan sitting opposite me talking nonsense. “Okay, I’m a few years older than you, so I’ll call you little sister. What are you talking about? I haven’t taught him much, he’s just always being naughty.” My mother blushed slightly. To outsiders, she seemed modest, but I knew she was thinking about that.
I chuckled inwardly and tickled my mother’s bottom a few times with my left hand. My mother flinched, but then calmed down.
“Qiao’er, I need to talk to your teacher, Mr. Wang. Go out and have some fun.” She tried to shoo me away, afraid I would do something inappropriate. I tickled her a couple more times. “Okay, Mr. Wang, please sit down.” Just as I reached the top of the stairs, my mother called me again. “Qiao’er, when you come back, go buy some groceries. We’ll have Mr. Wang stay for a simple meal tonight.”
“Okay, I’ll go right now.” I frowned, thinking, what is this slut up to?
Perhaps it was because of the cold winter, but there weren’t many people on the street. I muttered to myself, wandering along the road for a long time. I didn't really know what I was saying, but I had a vague feeling that something was wrong. These two women were too close to me, and if they were together, it would definitely cause trouble.
"Hey, you brat!"
A boy suddenly jumped out from around the corner. I looked up and saw it was Er Meng.
Er Meng wasn't actually called Er Meng; his real name was Li Yan, the same name as Li Yan, one of Li Zicheng's men, so I often teased him about it. He was naturally a lively person and talked a lot, but he often made mistakes, which always caused a burst of laughter in the class.
"Bored. Anything to do?"
"I'm going to the pharmacy. My dad went to Xiping today; a patient insists on being treated by him. What brings you to wander the streets in this cold weather?"
"Come on, let's go to your pharmacy. I'm bored. You know, Teacher Wang is at my house right now."
"Oh, a home visit? Did they say they were coming to my house?" Er Meng was startled. Students are generally afraid of teachers visiting their homes, but my fears are different from theirs.
"No, what's there to be afraid of? Even if my head falls off, it'll only leave a small scar." I laughed, looking at his timid expression.
Er Meng's family pharmacy is in the middle of Minzhu Road, mainly run by his father, Li Tiansen. He used to work at the town's health center, but the business wasn't good, so he quit and started his own business, making quite a bit of money over the years. After turning a few corners, we saw people arguing ahead. One of the voices was particularly clear; it was definitely Er Meng's mother. Erleng and I hurried forward and saw a skinny old man holding a carrying pole across his side, angrily cursing at Erleng's mother.
Looking closer, I recognized him as Old Zhou, the vendor selling braised duck and sausages at the east end of the street. I rushed over to break up the fight
. "I was just having a smoke in front of her shop, and she's already yelling at me to move it. I'm not leaving, let's see what she does!" Old Zhou, seeing me, acted as if he'd found an acquaintance and insisted on arguing.
"Smoking? You're smoking? Why are you staring at me like that?" Erleng's mother's voice was loud and carried for miles.
I pulled Old Zhou aside. "Old Zhou," I said, "arguing with a woman, even if you're right, you're still at a disadvantage.
If it gets back to your aunt, that'll be a real problem." I knew Old Zhou was henpecked; he had a shrew at home. Old Zhou trembled, glanced back at Erleng's mother, and wilted. Then, without a word, he picked up his pole and walked away.
"Hey, at least he's got some experience. He didn't know how powerful I am..." Er Leng's mother muttered curses under her breath.
Actually, she wasn't old, about the same age as my mother, but she had always run a shop, and her originally gentle personality had become shrewish.
"Xiaoqiao, come in quickly, I'm so sorry to have troubled you. With something like this happening..." She pulled my hand and led me straight into the shop. "Xiaoqiao is so capable, look at my silly Erleng, sigh..."
I glanced at Erleng, seeing his unconvinced expression, and smiled. "Actually, Erleng was about to rush in and fight, but I held him back, afraid something might happen. Erleng is just more courageous than me."
"Xiaoqiao, you're so good with your words." Erleng's mother, beaming, picked up a corncob, peeled off the husk, revealing the golden kernel. "Here, eat it while it's hot. Erleng, there's more in the pot, help yourself."
Before his mother could finish speaking, Erleng had already run into the inner room. I knew his dad had recently bought him a video game console there; he'd been engrossed in games these days, even copying my homework, so he was completely obedient to me.
"Aunt Bai, you should eat too." Erleng's mother, Bai Xiuying, used to be a leading lady in the county's Yue Opera troupe. The troupe closed down two years ago, and she quit to become a homemaker.
"You eat, you eat, I already ate." Aunt Bai smiled at me, her almond-shaped eyes sparkling with allure. "Xiaoqiao, you must come often in the future. Even when Erleng isn't here, you can still come." She sat in front of a statue depicting the distribution of acupoints on the human body. I noticed a blush on her fair face and thought, "Actually, Aunt Bai is quite pretty. How come I never noticed before?" "Aunt, do you know about acupoints?" I pointed to the statue, my address becoming increasingly abbreviated.
"I know a little, but not all of it. Only Erleng's father knows." Aunt Bai smiled at me. "I know simple hand acupressure, like for headaches, stomach aches, and things like that. Sometimes it works."
"Really? Auntie, let me try it on you..." I grasped her hand, smooth and warm. "My mom often has headaches. After I learn this, I can go home and take care of her." My mother sometimes has headaches and often rubs her head, but I never knew that massaging hands could work.
"Come on, Auntie will teach you. You need to press the acupoints on the first joint of the middle finger, the center of the wrist (Daling acupoint), and the acupoints on the middle joints of the four fingers on the back of the hand (excluding the thumb). Doing this in order will relieve different pain points in the front, top, side, and back of the head." Aunt Bai's snow-white, slender fingers slid gently in my palm, like a breeze brushing through the treetops, or like water flowing slowly through a ditch between cliffs.
My lungs swelled slightly in an instant, my heart pounding in the floating dust.
"Xiaoqiao, there's no business. Can you help Auntie close the shop?" Her eyelashes fluttered with a captivating light, and I read the symbol of desire in her eyes, a lewd emotion brewing within them. A wicked thought rose within me, a reflection of the evil spirit within me; the serpent of desire stretched out its long, snarling tongue…
The shop door was made of wooden planks, one by one. I bolted it shut and heard Aunt Bai's rapid breathing behind me, and the deafening clatter of the arcade machines inside. This wasn't an illusion. Aunt Bai's hand tentatively covered my throbbing groin; she was teasing me!
Outside, the wind howled, seeping in through the cracks in the door, causing the candlelight on the shrine to flicker. Aunt Bai's face also radiated a bewitching aura. "Auntie, your hands are so skillful, mmm…it feels so good." My penis slowly took shape under her meticulous caresses, its head throbbing and spitting between her fingers, saliva seeping from its tip, moistening her long, nail-painted fingernails.
“Bridge, so big, ah… don’t use too much force, good man… it’s too deep, oh oh… you’ve reached my heart…” My index, middle, and ring fingers joined together, digging and probing inside her vulva, feeling how deep it was, like the cave I crawled through as a child, dark and deep, with sticky fluid flowing inside. From the inner room came Er Leng’s excited screams; clearly, he had passed another level in his game. His joyful shouts drowned out his mother’s low moans and lewd murmurs.
Aunt Bai’s face was flushed, completely immersed in the sky of lust. Her scent was delicate, her pink buds revealing a long-awaited allure. Her weak breaths swayed uncertainly in the crisp air, her face like a pink sea of flowers, rising and falling naturally like waves.
I looked down, and oh, the deep, dark cave was filled with a misty, drizzling rain. The pool of water was a clear, greenish-blue, like shimmering jade, and I could see petals of flesh as red as peach blossoms.
A faint, sweet fragrance wafted in the cold air, and every breath I took felt like drinking sweet nectar. As I caressed her smooth, silky skin, my heart rose and fell with the waves of the sea. "Auntie, I want to penetrate you..." Her moans spread and floated freely and unrestrainedly. I imagined her crescent-white vulva, that snow-covered hillside...
"This, this, not here... what if, Erleng..." This blissful woman, lost in love, had a soft, wanton expression. One hand caressed my throbbing member, the other hooked around my neck, her whole body trembling with blissful petals.
I ignored her. I propped one of her feet on the counter, the background solemn, with the pharmacy's business license bearing the bright red seal of the industrial and commercial administration. The air was thick with the aroma of various herbs, and desire surged from all directions. "Ah, Qiao'er, good man...you're going to kill me..."
If life has four seasons, Aunt Bai was undoubtedly in the mature autumn. The world was no longer turbulent; grudges and resentments had long since faded. She understood the beauty of middle age: gentleness, willingly releasing her radiant fragrance.
In the intense thrusting, my bones burned from the internal heat. I imagined my dark, enormous member plunging into that thirsty sea—would it sink without a trace? I buried my mouth in her delicate lips, trying to silence her desperate cries. My member was like a giant machine, trying to shred and crush her vulva until bone and flesh were revealed.
The counter creaked with our rise and fall, though we conducted everything in silence. Between each pounding and grinding, we planted happiness in our respective corners of the world, searching for what we once possessed, or mending our shattered dreams… Our eyes met, brimming with longing and despair, as if if we didn't find it in this instant, our bodies would be dried into withered, yellow grass by the dryer of time.
Erleng screamed again from inside the room. Aunt Bai's body trembled, a surge of passionate desire welling up from the depths of her vulva, turbulent and gurgling with crimson lust. I think, for a man, a woman's orgasm is itself a heart-wrenching provocation, a summons, a passionate inducement, and a lamp lit in the cold winter.
Either die in silence, or erupt in silence. My surging passion erupted in an instant; I had long forgotten my real world, slowly walking towards a hazy future, even as she pleaded beneath me, "My good man, hurry… I'm afraid, I'm afraid…"
I knew, I knew what she was afraid of. She was afraid that once her son came out, he would see his mother as such a wanton, lewd woman. I don't know if all women in the world are like this, her, or my mother? Life and death are unpredictable, all consigned to fate. I know that ordinary people, like everyone else, lack the detached wisdom to comprehend life and death; at most, they simply savor the fleeting beauty and emotions of life, and that's enough. Just like before us, right now.
Until I released my most exquisite essence, I saw the relief on Aunt Bai's face, that radiant pink, drifting like a cloud.
(VII – End)
My autumn branches, laden with fruit, were plucked by duty to play with, and in every gap of my thoughts, all my conscience and all my vices simultaneously leaped out to frolic with me; my original attempt to escape the sea of worldly affairs had left me utterly exhausted, and the toil of trying to shatter my heart had already cleansed my spirit…
********************
"Come, little sister, this is the most famous glutinous rice ball from Xidan Temple Street, dipped in osmanthus sauce. It's the most delicious thing in the world." Mother eagerly placed a glutinous rice ball on the light green porcelain plate in front of Wang Shan. Next to it was a small porcelain bowl filled with light red osmanthus sauce.
Wang Shan smiled, put it in her mouth and chewed it carefully, a blissful smile spreading across her face. "It's so delicious, sister, how is this osmanthus sauce made? Where can I buy it?" I knew that she was trying to please her mother.
Sure enough, Mother said happily, "It's kind of you to love it, little sister. I'll have Qiao'er bring you a bottle later."
She affectionately touched Wang Shan's smooth little hand. "I made this myself. Every year when the osmanthus flowers are in full bloom, I pick them, put half a jar in an osmanthus jar, then peel the flesh off the sour plums, tear them into pieces, and put them into the osmanthus jar. Finally, I fill the jar with honey, seal it with wax, and it's ready to eat after ten days. The older it is, the better it tastes. What you're eating now is what I made last year."
Mother's osmanthus jam is something I've eaten since I was a child. I love to add some ice water, sit in the yard watching the distant mountains drift by, the clouds swirling, and then savor the sweet and slightly sour taste. The elegant and lingering flavor fills my mouth. This fragrance transcends time and space; even as time goes by, it will still linger, like a fleeting glimpse of a beautiful image etched in the sky of my memory.
Wang Shan squinted, licking her crimson lips a few times with a look of ecstasy. "Sister, you're so skillful! Xiaoqiao inherited your talent; she's just as outstanding." I stretched out my right foot under the table, my toes tracing along her calf before landing on her inner thigh, flicking it a few times. I saw her body freeze as if under Sun Wukong's spell, her almond eyes glancing sideways, her alluring gaze almost dripping with water.
My mother, however, didn't notice her expression and simply said modestly, "It's nothing. Qiao'er just can't concentrate. She tries to learn everything, but she's not good at anything." Her voice was incredibly beautiful, like the chirping of forest birds, melodious and flowing; I could almost hear the babbling of flowing water again.
My left hand slipped under the table and pinched my mother's thigh. "Mom, stop nagging me, let's talk about something else." My mother's face instantly flushed crimson, like a budding flower about to bloom. Who says beauty fades? My slightly tipsy mother was the best proof of that.
"Yes, yes, sister, it's getting late, I think I'll go back now. You should rest early too." Wang Shan tactfully got up. I knew her lower body was definitely dripping with lustful fluids; her face was flushed with desire, and her eyes sparkled. My heart fluttered.
"Alright. Qiao'er, you see Teacher Wang off. It's so cold, be careful on the road." My mother, after my pinch, exuded a languid yet alluring charm.
I was delighted. This room possessed both the gentleness of willows and the vibrant beauty of peaches and apricots; I really wanted to take them all in one fell swoop. But I knew this was just a dream. My mother would absolutely not allow such a thing to happen. She had once said that if anyone found out about our affair, she would never live. I believed her.
The cold moon was silent, and the sky was vast and boundless. I lowered my head, greedily inhaling the cold wind blowing from afar, mixed with dust and a faint fragrance of flowers.
"Are you angry? Qiao... I, I, I'm sorry." Wang Shan, seeing that I had been silent the whole way, looked at me cautiously, holding my hand tightly. Her hand was icy cold. "Good Qiao, really, I just missed you...
so I came to see you. Please, don't be angry..."
Her soft Wu dialect was like a warm current in this cold night. I was touched, and I squeezed her hand back, hugging her tightly, gently stroking her, and kissing the black hair at her temples.
"It's nothing. I just don't want Mom to know about us. If we're always together, it'll all come out eventually." I looked at her as if she were a forest, a snowfield, a wilderness...
I heard the sound of blood pounding in my chest, my throat felt dry. "Good Shan'er, I want to fuck you..." "
Here?"
she asked softly, looking around. The desolate road was deserted, the wind rustled the roadside grass and trees, the dark sky was starless, only a crescent moon emitted a pale, pale light.
"Of course... spread your legs a little wider, Shan, your hole is so warm..."
In the corner of the street, I had pulled Wang Shan's pants down halfway, draped over her knees, her plump, fleshy buttocks exposed to the cold wind. She was breathing heavily, trembling slightly, perhaps from nervousness and the cold. "Qiao, come in quickly, I'm so cold..." Her submissiveness held boundless tenderness; at that moment, she seemed like my little wife. But she wasn't; she was my homeroom teacher and Chinese language teacher.
My powerful penetration answered her. She let out a soft cry, her face glowing with a captivating radiance, her eyes gleaming with excitement. What kind of love could make a delicate, beautiful, dignified, and elegant woman abandon her dignity and soul, submitting to the crotch of a young, inexperienced man like me? Or perhaps, it was a desire that bound her to a treacherous tightrope, making her struggle between humanity and desire, yet the tighter the binding became.
I couldn't believe I possessed that kind of magic, capable of transforming every mature woman into a naive girl before my pale youth. Could it be that there truly is some unseen force, manipulating the ship navigating the sea of my life? I kept questioning the heavens, but the heavens remained silent. I transformed my questions into sharp knives, piercing the pitiful, groaning woman.
With each burning of desire, I felt my young soul fracturing, a black demon implanting cancer cells within me. I knew that sooner or later, I would be terminally ill, beyond redemption.
"Call me husband, call me..."
I commanded my teacher, the engineer of the human soul, whose limbs trembled as she received my repeated, heavy thrusts. The crisp air gradually became damp. Under the silent night sky, Wang Shan's face was flawless, tears of excitement glistening in her eyes. The sounds of our passionate lovemaking were frozen into a chilling current that gathered in her low, deep mounds.
Perhaps from maintaining the same standing position, I felt exhausted, my legs gradually going numb. Unable to endure the alternation of hot and cold, I finally ejaculated, my thick semen flowing like a clear spring, or like the roots of a great tree disappearing into the depths of her mounds.
Tonight, the moonlight, hazy and dreamlike, streamed across the white roof tiles. The remaining snow seemed to have melted from our passion, dripping softly from the eaves. Wang Shan straightened her clothes, her eyes glistening with tears, nestled in my arms, her silence conveying tenderness, gentleness, and meekness…
“Qiao, if only it could be like this every day…” Wang Shan’s melancholy face held many thoughts. She was sentimental, her furrowed brows never truly relaxed, like Lin Daiyu in the Grand View Garden.
“My dear Shan’er, I read a book the other day, and there was a line in it: ‘An hour is a lifetime, a moment is close to eternity.’ I think we are the same.”
I knew that one day, wrinkles would quietly carpet her smooth face like fallen winter leaves, and her eyes would no longer be clear as water, leaving only the weary echoes of the past. I don't know if, on that day, I will still feel the same longing, the same tenderness…
Wang Shan wept.
************
The night sky is always a uniform black. The pale moonlight stretches my lonely shadow long, so long. The world is so vast, leaving only me, engaging in a dialogue between hearts. The road before me is clean and tidy. Even though countless footsteps bustle here during the day, the cold wind makes everything appear pure and clear.
I wonder if life can be like this too, after a storm, a thousand kinds of romance and ten thousand kinds of feelings vanish in an instant.
At this moment, I want to go home most.
My mother is waiting for me, naked, in the soft lamplight, in the warm blankets.
When my coldness touches her warmth, my whole world collapses in this intoxicating fragrance. What intoxicates me is a mysterious, intoxicating fragrance, the mellow aroma of aged wine, often swelling my youthful, inexperienced groin, transforming it into a light boat with white sails, sailing into the harbor of my mother's lips. I often think, the Creator is truly wondrous; the same rice and water, the same salt, yet there exists such a radiant and graceful woman as my mother. This vast universe is filled with inexplicable mysteries.
I gently caress this gift from God; my mother's flesh is impeccable, warm juices and tender meat, a sweet and sour fragrance lingering in my nostrils. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, ah, a hundred-year-old daughter's red wine… seven parts soft sourness and three parts wine, sliding smoothly down my throat, indistinguishable as sweet, sour, or wine, yet feeling sweet, sour, and wine all at once. This subtle, wondrous, graceful, and exquisite feeling is beyond the expression of any worldly words.
My mother trembled, her moans like notes dancing on a musical staff, or like the melody of "Bamboo Dewdrops" played on her pipa, as if thousands of bamboo leaves were falling, their shadows rustling, illuminating her two intertwined bodies—was it real or not, like a dream? Her moans were like silkworms spinning silk, scattered yet continuous, like the sound of a flute in the dark bamboo grove, while my penis was the whip cracking that night, playing the most glorious and splendid chapter of human life with each thrust.
The howling wind outside gradually faded, carrying with it a lingering sob. After my continuous thrusting, my mother was like the wind blowing through wheat fields, or the undulating mountains, surging in the passionate winter. I leaned down to kiss her; her lips were as soft as early spring rain, her tongue darting between my teeth, her moans were a song of joyful flight, and the sound of our union was a tender narration.
And so, in the ebb and flow, we exchanged our energy and passion, tenderly and harmoniously, with a relaxed mood and a blissful intoxication. Occasionally she would open her eyes and look at me tenderly, her jade-like water gently caressing my black hair, while the pubic hair beneath her resembled rows of neatly arranged rice seedlings in a vast paddy field, fluttering gracefully in the wind.
As I buried myself in planting rice seedlings, I was suddenly overwhelmed with a strange emotion. My mother's vulva, which had been a thin, long slit, was suddenly parted by my forceful thrusting. Strands of yin energy, with vigorous power, flowed into my surging blood—an indication of primal life force. As thousands of sperm from within my mother poured into my penis with an invincible and fearless posture, I realized that my heart, bound by societal morality and filled with tension and unease, was suddenly bursting with joy.
This was a sexual suggestion, subtle and awkward, yet undeniably present before me. I had a sudden realization—life itself is an eternally moving miracle, and people have an inexhaustible yearning and persistence for it.
This world is truly beautiful. Passion is a wave that never recedes, a dream with wings. I think my mother felt the same way. Everything in this world is wondrous; the most bitter things are also the sweetest, the most astringent is the most sweet, like two sides of the same coin.
Faced with the tenderness and affection emanating from my mother, as her son, I could only embrace it with all my heart. The fusion of Yin and Yang felt so gentle at this moment, but most importantly, it was about experiencing that fullness with our hearts, and being moved by that vibrant love.
"Promise me, when Dad comes back tomorrow, you won't do anything reckless again." My beautiful mother, naturally bent into an arc under my pounding, like a folded morning glory, swaying in the wind. This sorrow needed to be truly felt through the merging of body and soul. My heart skipped a beat; how fortunate I was to be one with my mother, to enjoy this most subtle romance in the world.
I understood my mother's meaning: life shouldn't be a series of mistakes. But fate had already decreed that we were both a group of persistent and unrepentant people, destined to remain together until the moment the mountains crumbled and we were shattered to pieces. I respected my mother's advice, but I didn't know if I could keep it.
"Okay, Mom. I'll try to control myself." I went all out again, completely ignoring my mother's trembling beneath me, imagining leading her to the peak of happiness. The dull "thud" of that feeling was exquisitely beautiful, far beyond what reality could bear.
My mother sighed, like the low murmur of the goddess Mi Fei by the Luo River, or like a passing breeze gently brushing across the fields with a sense of helplessness. 　After everything has become distorted and twisted, one finally arrives at the most ordinary and mundane place, examining one's initial wishes: What were my wishes for life before? If I still have wishes in the future, what will I wish for?
When 　my 　father returned home, it was exactly 5:30 in the afternoon. The car rumbled, clearly still that old Beijing Jeep, screeching across the snow-covered road before stopping with a screech outside the door. 　"Quick, Qiao'er, you go out first." Mother let out a long sigh, her warm breath sounding like the gentle whimpering of a baby. I felt a nervous excitement, pulling my still-erect penis from her tight vagina and tucking it into her cotton sweatpants. Mother hurriedly and awkwardly adjusted her lower body. "Aren't you going yet?" She glared at me, her reproachful eyes filled with a seductive allure. 　"Dad, you're back." My quiet father, wearing my grandfather's fur coat, looked even thinner. His face, ravaged by the north wind, was rough and pale, and the thick purple-framed glasses on his nose made him appear even more haggard. I felt a pang of sadness. My father had spent years working the land, enduring wind and rain, not only for his beloved career but also for this family. 　"Yes, you're back. Qiao'er, did you listen to your mother at home?" Seeing my voice choked with emotion, my father patted my shoulder reassuringly. "It's so good to be home." 　"Dad, Mom is getting you hot water in the inner room. Where's the driver?" I peeked at Xiao Wu, the driver, who was starting the car. "Why don't you let Uncle Xiao Wu come in and sit down?" 　"Hey, he's in a hurry to get home. It's so cold, and he's newly married. Accompanying us on this trip for several days must have worn him out." My father chuckled, watching the Beijing Jeep, emitting a lot of black exhaust fumes, gradually disappear into the distance. He seemed to be in a good mood. 　"You're back. How can you say such things to the child?" My mother stood gracefully at the door, staring at my father with a look of feigned reproach, her face full of joy, her eyebrows exuding a strange charm. 　"Yes, yes. Hehe, I'm back." Father hurriedly stuffed the entire package into my hands. "Qiao'er, take these things inside and distribute them. Some are for the neighbors." I saw the astonishment on Father's face. I knew in my heart that Father hadn't seen Mother for a few days and found her even more alluring than before, so he was eager to get rid of me. 　But he didn't know that it was precisely because we had just made love that Mother displayed that languid and seductive charm. "Okay, I'll take some to Erleng's family later," I agreed. Father always brought back some local specialties to share with the neighbors whenever he went out, and coupled with Mother's dignified, humble, and kind nature, our family was known for its good relationships in the area. 　The room was filled with a strong fragrance, mixed with the scent of women's rouge and floral water. I thought that Mother probably wanted to avoid that kind of scent in the air, so she took out this rather strong perfume and sprayed it on. As soon as my father entered the house, he sneezed several times. "Why does it smell so good?" 　"Hmm, I took out some old clothes to prepare for winter, and they had a bit of an odor, so I sprayed some perfume, but I accidentally knocked it over." Sure enough, the bottle of cologne lay overturned on the table. I noticed a hint of shyness, a touch of mischief, and a dash of pride in my mother's eyes. Our eyes met, and my mother blushed, glancing at me sideways before ignoring me. My 　father, who had just entered the house, didn't notice our little exchange, still immersed in the joy of returning home. Perhaps for those who have left home, home truly is a sanctuary for the soul, real and tangible. 　My eyes gradually welled up with tears. Every time my father left home, for some reason, I always felt a sense of loss, as if something important was missing from my life. Although I could enjoy intimate moments with my mother, there was more wistfulness and confusion than pleasure. 　My father's broad and generous smile told me that the world of three was the most perfect, and this kind of family joy was irreplaceable. Father, I want to cry. Joy brings me heartache, and I forgive my years of foolishness and recklessness. Though I have long since fallen into depravity, nightmares like a long rope have tightened around my fragile neck, and I dare not kick off that footrest. 　After the salty tears, a heart-wrenching pain lingers throughout my body. Every time I wake up in the middle of the night, I feel as if I am in an endless snowfield, with drops of black blood flowing down my face… 　Yet, I have become a prodigal son who will never turn back, obsessed with my mother's round, verdant breasts. The abundant milk of her breasts attracts and nourishes me, and her broad mons pubis is like a fertile plain where a warm palace is built, storing boundless energy, waiting for me to seize it… 　Years later, I read an article, and just one glance was enough to shock me… 　So, let the acacia flower in my hand be a comforting word bestowed by an unknown star from the distant night sky! 　The soft flower petals, when rubbed, release a faint fragrance, devoid of sorrow or lamentation. Comfort is simply comfort itself, like tears, ultimately just tears, without accusation or regret. All promises are fiery paths, and the promisor is not unaware of this, desiring to see them as home. 　A woman who becomes a mother through a promise, trapped in a sea of fire, must see the copper cabinet beneath the reeds, swarming with flies, upon which hangs a divine talisman: "You made your first choice to become a mother; now, I give you a second and final choice; inside are forgotten fruits and a cup of blood wine. After drinking, you will learn to betray, all the torments that have entangled you will vanish, and you will regain your whole self, like a virgin who has never conceived." 　This is written to mothers, but it is also written to me; this is a choice for mothers, and also for me. 　I watch the scattered snowflakes fluttering in the wind outside the window; in a few days, it will be the Spring Festival. May this be the "auspicious snow that foretells a bountiful year."

A light mist veiled the windowpane. I clasped my hands together, devoutly chanting the "Peace Song," praying for rain, hoping that those burdened by the yoke of the soul could be freed from their heavy yoke, letting the breeze dispel the darkness, whether tomorrow brings dawn or an even deeper darkness…
If only one purple acacia flower remained in my palms, I would offer it to my father and mother, letting this purple hue be as serene as the sea, pure and beautiful. Although, beneath its lightness lurked the allure of melancholy, decadence, and even depravity.
In truth, this was also the sensitive, ambiguous, and subtly complex undertone of a seventeen-year-old's life.

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Postscript: Perhaps 　life is merely a magnificent brocade robe, and you are but a flower adorning it, adding color to the vibrant past. Ultimately, you will bloom brilliantly in your youth, only to quietly wither away after being torn apart.
Humans 　are emotional creatures, especially me. When inspiration strikes, I am radiant, spirited, and write with boundless passion—it's truly exhilarating! 　Out of curiosity about the mystery of humanity's primal creativity, and even more so because of humanity's inherent voyeuristic tendency to scrutinize hidden acts, I have no idea how many illicit sexual relationships exist among humans. But I think the reason why incest within families remains unknown is precisely because of its uniqueness and secrecy. We usually learn about illicit affairs from newspapers, but that's all. However, a glimpse reveals the whole picture. On this earth of billions, how many infatuated men and women are secretly and unknowingly engaging in humanity's most primal acts? 　The reason I chose this subject matter is because it directly touches upon the most extreme and hidden aspects of sex, leaving it nowhere to hide. Who knows, at this very moment, as I write this, isn't there a pair of incestuous lovers secretly enjoying themselves at home? The pleasure of forbidden love is unparalleled; as long as there is love, pleasure is everywhere, regardless of blood ties. 　Reading erotic literature is like tasting tea; a hundred people will have a hundred different opinions, so it's a matter of personal interpretation. Thank you to all the friends who have supported, encouraged, and offered constructive criticism; your enthusiasm is the source of inspiration and the driving force behind my writing. 　This is where I should conclude this piece. Perhaps one day, I will return to the keyboard and continue writing. 　Finally, let me conclude this short, poorly written poem. How about the title: "Incest"? 　"Immersed in darkness, thick blood, like a drifting snowflake, loses control and is powerless to escape, plunging into what seems within reach—a dark, impenetrable ancient well. Do not easily approach, step into that frozen, winding path. Or perhaps, it is also a song of the night, a life sung in the dew, without the pain of inferiority, without the constraints of morality, pouring out all its loneliness and helplessness, a pipe of blood-red desire, blazing like fire, green lush, red fading."

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