[Dotted Line] The Unbreakable Bond Between Mother and Son Series - Part One of the Extraordinary Trilogy

The Unforgettable Mother-Son Relationship Series: "The Strange Trilogy, Part One: The Dotted Line"

[Full Text]
Word Count: 20,000

Introduction :

This piece can be considered my debut work.

It's difficult to determine the truth or falsehood of things online, but ultimately, there are more falsehoods than truths.
Leaving aside the rights and wrongs of online truth and falsehood, from the perspective of someone who enjoys writing, the internet is ultimately
good . There are so many things we want to say but dare not say in our social circles, so many things we want to do but dare not do in real life
; online, you can vent them all. Even if it's telling lies. In reality

, you can be hypocritical; but online, you can be genuine.

In reality, you can be noble; but online, you can be vulgar.

However, can hypocrisy and truth, nobility and vulgarity, really be artificially divided?

Erotic literature (let's call it erotic literature for now) is a type of literature I greatly enjoy. I believe that
from national leaders to ordinary people, regardless of gender, everyone would scoff at it in reality. Yet,
when no one is watching, in the completely private space, her shadow still
roams . Don't blame her; it's human nature, something that can only be suppressed, but no one can reverse.

I've read many pieces of erotic literature, many filled with stunning writing, ingenious plots, and moving
stories—I greatly admire the predecessors of these works. However, most of the articles on erotic forums
are simply unreadable to me.

I dislike those articles filled with sexual vocabulary, tens of thousands of words long but entirely about sex, and I especially dislike
those fast-food sex where men and women meet and have sex without caring who the other is. I believe that regardless of
the type of novel, whether they are positive or reactionary, there must be one most important
element in these texts:

humanity.

Perhaps many people will be disgusted by my "Strange Love Trilogy" because it is filled with incest.

I also know that with my writing skills, I cannot write anything shocking.

However, I still want to publish it online.

Because it is real.

I admit that I had sex with my biological mother; it really happened.

Moreover, 80% of the plot in my novel is based on true events (though the names and
locations are not accurate).

Therefore, my writing is truthful.

Because the humanity I depict is real.

(I)

The rain outside the window is so heavy; I guess I'll be lazing in bed all day again.

Actually, I'm not usually this lazy; nobody is born as lazy as me. After my breakup,
I felt that rather than not having the will to work, I might as well lose my job too. So I gave up on myself, staying
home , not wanting to go anywhere or do anything. Listening to decadent music, drinking decadent liquor, watching
boring movies, day after day, I wasted my life.

It's not that I lack the ability to escape decadence and become noble—I graduated from a prestigious university and initially earned

a high-paying white-collar job; I also had a period of life that felt like a battle. But
after , I suddenly realized that I didn't know why I was working so hard, or
what I would want even after I had everything.

Besides, even if I didn't work all day, I wouldn't be afraid of going hungry; my mom would support me. My mom is forty
-two and works as a clerk in a small Hong Kong company…

she really can't do anything else besides clerical work. But she still has a job, she earns money,
and she always gives me money without hesitation whenever I ask. So what am I afraid of? …The future? I
've never thought about it. Just getting by is the true meaning of life.

I don't care what others say about me being a spendthrift or unfilial. My mom and dad
divorced when I was two, and I've never seen my dad or my sister, who was awarded to his custody. You could say I
've never even seen them. All the money for my living expenses, school, and university was earned by my mom through hard work.
So, when I was still a decent person, I worked really hard, constantly striving for improvement, all to
repay my mom and to give Kexin a good life in the future.

Yes, her name is Kexin, my childhood sweetheart. We grew up together, studied together,
went to university together, and worked together after graduation.

Almost everyone assumed we'd definitely get married. I even
found a house we'd have to pay the mortgage for. But what I never expected was that on this day last year, also a rainy day, she told me she
was engaged to someone else, an American. She also told me she loved me very much, but she couldn't
live a poor life with me; that wasn't her childhood dream. Her dream was the land across the ocean.

Even now, I'm still wondering: what does loving me have to do with living with me?

I haven't seen her since, haven't spoken to her on the phone, not even an email.
We've completely lost contact. It's like she evaporated from the face of the earth, or as if she
never . The only reason I can't forget her is those
inexplicable dreams I have every night.

It's only a little past three in the afternoon, but the sky is almost like dusk, and the rain never stops. I like this kind of
weather; it reflects my mood. The room is filled with the smell of worn-out flowers and Marlboro cigarettes,
making me feel that life's helplessness has reached its limit. Perhaps a person's life is meant to be spent amidst poverty and Marlboro cigarettes
.

A familiar sound of footsteps interrupted my reverie, so I simply stood up and pulled my pants up from my knees
to my waist, then brushed aside the clump of hair on my eyebrows and flicked the ash from my cigarette into
the ashtray.

"Ah!" My bedroom door was pushed open—I knew she'd do this, barging in without knocking.

I don't know how many times she'd caught me like this when I was trying to please myself, so now I
simply left the door open, letting her come in whenever she wanted.

After she finished saying, "You've smoked so many cigarettes again. How many times have I told you this is slow suicide?" and "Away from electricity..."
"Get your head away, do you want your lenses to be even thicker?" "Please, could you throw your used toilet paper in the trash can
?" After a series of phrases I always say when I come in, I finally turned to look at her.

Although the umbrella in her hand was dripping wet, her hair and clothes were already half-soaked, and she was carrying several plastic bags of various sizes in her other
hand . It was clear she had just been to a market; her shoes were covered in mud,
probably from buying groceries at Walmart again.

I turned my head back to the computer and said, "Mom, you must be tired. Take a break before cooking."

I heard her sigh softly, then she turned and went into the kitchen. I was already used to her like this, so
of course I wouldn't give up my online romance to help her wash the vegetables just because of a sigh. Ha,
those dinosaurs online are really fucking seductive; every word they say hits home, as if they've been with me since I was in the womb.
They're so arousing that I had to put out my Marlboro and pull out another one from the box.

My mom's voice from the kitchen interrupted my pleasant mood again.

"A colleague of mine has a daughter who's now a human resources manager at a computer company. Why don't you give
it a try and see if it works out this time?"

"Mom, I've told you so many times, I'll find a job myself. I don't want to work right now, I don't want
to work . A computer company? No interest!"

"But this can't go on like this. I can still support you now, but my job
is unstable . I might lose it any day. Finding another job takes time,
and how will we pay the rent? What will we eat?"

"Mom, you're so annoying! I told you there'll be a way. There's always a way."

"But..."

"But what?!" I couldn't stand her nagging anymore. I got up, unplugged the computer,
took a neatly folded shirt from the closet, and started putting it on as I walked out. —Every time she wants to
find me a job, I do the same thing.

Mom came out of the kitchen and said, "Where...where are you going again?" I zipped up my pants and
said, "I'm going to 'Lonely City' for an interview, to see if they'll let me be a gigolo!" Mom was still holding
unwashed . She trembled, paused for a moment, and said, "Wouldn't you...eat something before you go?"

Looking into Mom's eyes, my heart stirred slightly, but it was fleeting. I
wiped my face with the hem of my shirt and said, "What's the point of eating? Men are old dogs, two cigarettes and a bottle of rubbish will
be enough ."

Mom frowned as she looked at me, her expression telling me that she felt both pity and heartache for me. She
lowered , took out two hundred yuan from her pocket, stuffed it into my hand, and said, "Don't drink too much, it's bad for your health..."

"Okay." I stuffed the money into my shirt pocket and walked out without looking back.

(II)

"Lonely City" is a bar that only people who are very familiar with the city can understand and love
. The people who come here may not all be lonely, but they are certainly all lonely.

Under the dim lights, my mind immediately seems clearer, and my mood improves. Perhaps I
truly belong to the night; perhaps this is my true home. Under these lights and with this music,
I always like to peer through the swirling cigarette smoke, intentionally or unintentionally observing the
diverse group of like-minded people in this bar.

Actually, most of the people in this bar are unlike me. By day, they have prestigious professions,
an awe-inspiring appearance, and bulging wallets; but at night,
they become as empty and lonely as I am, and like me, they unconsciously come to this
"lonely city." Perhaps they, like me, are constantly pondering the same question: Is it this
city that makes us feel lonely? Or is it that we come to this city because we are lonely?

Twenty-five yuan a bottle, one hundred and twenty yuan for half a dozen. To save money, I ordered half a dozen.

On stage, the band Band sang Dick's "Relief" in husky voices, their deep vocals resonating
throughout the bar. Even the waiters unconsciously swayed their heads to the rhythm, let alone
the men and women below who genuinely longed for liberation. I was intoxicated by this feeling; my mind,
stimulated by alcohol and cigarettes, gradually went blank.

"Relief..." I hummed involuntarily.

"A song like this, even sung by a mediocre band, can stir your heart." A
slightly husky female voice drifted into my ears, seemingly unintentionally. I opened my eyes and realized that
a woman had appeared beside me—a rather attractive one, at first glance.

I wasn't unfamiliar with this kind of interaction, and in "Lonely City," it usually
meant that this woman was likely to have sex with me that night. Although I always
dressed like Hong Qigong when I came here, I still attracted the attention of the opposite sex. This made me increasingly realize that what's most important to a woman about a man
isn't his appearance or clothing, but that he is indeed a man, not a woman.

I sized up the woman who had already given the signal. She was around thirty years old, with fair skin and
perfectly applied makeup, making her eyebrows, eyeshadow, and red lips seem natural. Looking down
, she wore a black, tight-fitting halter-neck mini-dress that hugged her curves. While very sexy, it didn't have
a cheap, vulgar feel; she seemed born to wear it—she was a stunner, that was my second impression.

Seeing this beautiful woman, I felt no nervousness. I never thought about how to
please or how to get her into bed with me. I only thought about whether I should put my taxi fare in another pocket so
I wouldn't have to walk home again tonight.

"Do you know who wrote this song?" The woman turned to me, encouraging me. She had indeed picked up on
my earlier comment.

"I don't know, but I can guess." I turned to her, indicating I was comfortable with her response.

"Oh? Tell me?"

"If you guess right, how about I get a drink with you?"

"No problem." The beautiful woman smiled at me for the first time.

"This song… was written by someone named 'Loneliness'."

The beautiful woman fell silent, her eyes fixed on her wine glass. I knew I'd guessed right. I raised my glass,
a faint smile playing on my lips.

"Are you lonely?" she asked, looking at me with a hint of anticipation in her eyes for another
answer that would leave a lasting impression.

"Until I finish this drink," I replied, clinking my glass against hers before downing it in one gulp.

This time, she paused for a longer moment, then followed suit

, downing her own glass in one go. I handed her a Marlboro and lit it for her. She inhaled sharply for the first time, holding it in her chest
for a long time before exhaling slowly and deliberately, finally letting out a leisurely smoke ring. I realized she was
someone who enjoyed the first puff of a cigarette, meaning she was the type who liked novelty.

"You're a regular here, aren't you?" she asked.

I nodded, lighting my own cigarette as well.

"This is my first time here." The beautiful woman suddenly chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Coming alone on your first time
, isn't that a pretty clear purpose?"

"Your purpose is indeed very clear; you can practically write what kind of person you're looking for on your face."

"Oh?" The woman's expression turned disdainful. "Then tell me, what kind of person am I looking for?...

There's a reward for the correct answer... I guarantee you'll be satisfied." Her lips curled slightly upwards, appearing both
flirtatious and alluring.

"Ahem! Well, keep your word."

"Stop rambling. I don't believe you can even tell what kind of person I'm looking for."

"Okay, listen carefully." I said slowly, word by word, "You want to find a man,
not a woman."

The beautiful woman stared at me wide-eyed, as if looking at the strangest thing in the world. After a while, she suddenly
burst into laughter , laughing uncontrollably.

While she was laughing, I picked up the bottle to refill my glass, but she
snatched it from my hand and gulped it down, splashing wine
onto her firm, white breasts without a care. When she put the bottle down, she stopped laughing, her face expressionless
, and fell silent.

"If you're not a poet, you must be a mind reader." When she looked up again,
a faint smile graced her face, a blush spreading across her cheeks like natural rouge…

Women get drunk so quickly, unlike me, who needs to spend so much money to even feel a little bit.

"I'm not a mind reader, because I still can't guess what you want to reward me with."

She extended a slender finger with red nail polish and lightly traced a line on my lips, then slowly
said, "What I want to reward you with… is what's written on your face…"

(III)

It was already three in the morning when I got home.

Opening the door, I felt like I could barely stand. Thankfully, I took a taxi home; otherwise,
I probably would have crawled inside.

As usual, Mom was asleep on the sofa—she always waits for me to come home before falling asleep,
and she always seems to drift off without realizing it. This time, however, I noticed an empty
wine bottle on the coffee table. It seemed Mom had been drinking tonight, which was unusual for her.

I didn't want to wake her, but I was exhausted, so I took off my clothes and threw them on the sofa.
That way, Mom could wash me up before going to work in the morning. I went straight into the bathroom naked.

As usual, the bathtub was already filled with water, and the temperature was just right. Soaking in the hot water, all my
fatigue finally eased. The smell of alcohol gradually evaporated with the heat, and the passion from earlier returned to my
mind.

Soaking in the hot water, all my fatigue finally eased. The smell of alcohol gradually evaporated with the heat,
and the passion from earlier returned to my mind.

The restrooms in "Lonely City" were spacious, seemingly designed specifically for guests to have sex
. But it was my first time having sex in a restroom, and it felt incredibly exciting. When I brought her in, I saw
couples embracing unabashedly, and loud
moans I could sense she was a little nervous, and I felt the same way.

But after quickly undressing her in our stall, she got excited
, and I felt it too. She helped me pull down my pants and then took my penis into her mouth.

I could tell her oral skills weren't great, but she was very dedicated and passionate. She wasn't very good with
her tongue , but her lips were gentle, and she tried her best to avoid letting her teeth touch me. If I hadn't been holding it in for so long,
I definitely would have had her suck me out first.

I had her kneel on the toilet, and then I penetrated her from behind, so I could fully enjoy watching her snow-white
buttocks turn bright red from my slaps. Her moans weren't loud; they were forced and suppressed. She
didn't say anything during sex, only humming softly. But you could tell she was enjoying it, and
genuinely felt good.

I couldn't try anything fancy in the bathroom, so we stayed in that position until the end. But because I
was big enough, she had several orgasms. According to her later words, I almost drained her of her fluids.

Since it was her first time, I ejaculated onto her reddened buttocks, then gently wiped
them clean with tissues before we got dressed.

After leaving the bathroom, we acted as if nothing had happened, each hailing a taxi and
going home.

Everything seemed like routine, everything seemed so natural. But I still felt

something different from the girls I'd met in bars before—that is, now, lying in the bathtub thinking

of her, I still felt aroused, and it was
as .

I have to admit, while she wasn't the prettiest girl I knew, she was the most
alluring , the one who stirred a strange, stimulating feeling in me.

I couldn't quite describe what that stimulation was.

I wrapped a towel around my lower body and left the bathroom. My mother was still fast asleep on the sofa, her expression peaceful, her lips...
She wore a faint smile. A stirring ran through me, and I walked to the sofa, sitting beside her.

My mother was dressed very lightly, wearing only a nightgown over a pair of white
bikini- Because the nightgown was pulled up, her entire buttocks were fully exposed. My mother
's buttocks were large, slightly plump, not as firm and perky as a young girl's, but
the rounded curves still stirred many fantasies, especially the protruding belly and the small protrusion at the front
, making me feel even more strongly that the person lying before me was a woman, not just my mother. My mother rarely exposed any parts of her body
to , but tonight, after drinking, I had a feast for the eyes.

Since it was the first time I had seen the buttocks of a woman her age, and especially my mother's, curiosity made me stare blankly for a moment. But since I had no impure thoughts, I helped her pull her clothes back up, then gently picked
her up and carried her into her bedroom. 　　In the darkness, my mother's scent filled my nostrils. Her soft body was in my arms, and I suddenly remembered the scene in "Lonely City." My legs went weak, and I accidentally fell onto the bed, my body pressing against hers. 　　My mother seemed startled awake, yet not quite. She snorted softly, wrapped her arms around my neck , and rubbed her cheek against mine. A surge of heat rushed to my head, my mind a jumble of emotions. 　　Was my mother awake? Was she awake? 　　Her hands began to slide down, touching my shoulders, my back, then slipping under the towel to touch my buttocks. Her touch was practiced; her palms traced circles, occasionally pinching the flesh with her fingers. I began to wonder if she was truly sober, or simply drunk and out of her mind. 　　But I liked this feeling. There was a sense of security, comforted by my mother, and a feeling of satisfaction, surrounded by a woman . And then there was… the sexual sensation of my hard, iron-like penis being held tightly between her legs… 　　My hands started to wander, moving from her waist to her soft, full breasts… Ah, touching those high, pointed tips, I felt like I was being electrocuted. It was the first time I'd ever touched my mother's breasts like this, and the feeling… My mother 's breasts were so big, I couldn't even hold them with one hand. I had to use both hands to grasp those soft peaks… 　　I kept kneading them, not for sexual arousal, but purely for the feeling, to feel those soft , full mounds of flesh… My mother's fleshy mounds... it felt like scratching an itch through her clothes. My hands trembled as I pulled off her top, revealing two round , plump mounds, their deep red nipples swaying gently. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest... 　　My mother's breasts weren't perky; they were sagging slightly. But what tempted me now wasn't their beauty... My hands pressed against them, the softness shifting and changing in my hands making me feel like I was ascending to heaven... My eyes widened, afraid of missing a single shape... 　　My mother let out a soft moan, her face flushed like a young girl's. Her hands slid to my chest, gently pushing me up, so I was straddling her, my bottom resting on her stomach. My mother's fingers teased my nipples, her phoenix eyes were captivating, her cherry lips slightly parted, her body half-naked— it was like a beautiful picture. 　　Suddenly, I felt something was amiss. I knew this wasn't guilt , nor fear, but the feeling of discovering something very wrong, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it. 　　Before I could think it through, Mom's hand suddenly slid down, intentionally or unintentionally pulling open the towel I was wrapped in . My bright red erection pointed straight at Mom's beautiful face, seemingly impatient. 　　Mom's red lips parted, and in the light, I could see her tender red tongue inside, like a small snake , appearing and disappearing intermittently. The light in her eyes flickered, as if telling me something. I sensed it was encouragement, giving me courage. 　　I drifted further and further away from ethics and morality, a strange desire increasingly taking over my body, but it wasn't lust, I could understand it. I thrust my hips forward, my red tip getting … Mom seemed to willingly and slowly open her mouth, welcoming my arrival… My tip was already glistening with liquid, proof of my need… 　　An indescribable expression appeared on Mom's lips, her eyes revealing a sense of déjà … as if I had seen this scene somewhere before… the same beautiful face, the same deep red lips, the same provocative smile… 　　That's it! That's what I just experienced! That woman!! That smile!!! 　　The woman in "Lonely City" who made me feel like I was in heaven, the beauty who made me go to bed with her in the public restroom after just a few words!! 　　When I reached out to her, she had the same smile, the same expression! 　　Even... even her appearance seemed the same! 　　Could it be... could it be... 　　maybe I haven't paid close attention to my mother's appearance before, maybe I've never seen my mother with such an expression ... In short, I bet that woman, at that time, and my mother now, are practically the same person! 　　I felt like I'd been punched, I yelled, and scrambled off the bed and rushed out of the room. I lost my way in the darkness, stumbled into my room, my blood rushing to my head, and collapsed onto the bed with a thud, falling into a deep sleep. 　　In my hazy state, I seemed to hear my mother calling my name... 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　(IV) 　　I was in a daze, I don't know how long I slept, when I opened my eyes, my head felt like it was about to split open. 　　I always get a headache in the morning after drinking, but never like this morning . 　　Gradually, I started recalling what happened last night, and my mind started to race. When I reached for a cigarette from the bedside table , I noticed the bed had been made; the pillows and sheets were neatly arranged, unlike the mess I'd left behind. The ashtray was empty, and there was a warm cup of milk coffee on the bedside table.

It must have been Mom who rushed in; she came into my room before I was fully awake. So, does she
remember what happened last night? Right, when I came into the room last night, I think I wasn't wearing anything
, or maybe I just collapsed onto the bed. So, it was Mom who helped me into bed and covered me with the blanket
.

I closed my eyes, imagining Mom looking at my naked body last night. She was drunk then
, and in her half-awake state, I touched her breasts. Was she fully conscious
or ? She must have been conscious, otherwise how could she have helped me into bed?

That means that when I was on top of her last night, she knew exactly who was doing what,
or at least she wasn't completely unaware. Then…

my bedroom door opened, and it was Mom. Our eyes met, and we both paused for a moment, but only for
a second. Mom's expression returned to normal, her face filled with a loving smile: "You're awake! Sigh, I told you
not to drink so much, but you wouldn't listen. Luckily you knew the way home."

I said "Oh," feeling a little awkward, and asked, "Mom…you…you didn't go to work today?"

"It's Saturday. Where would I go to work?" Mom put down the breakfast she was holding and
reached for my empty milk cup.

For someone like me, the concept of Saturday had long been forgotten. All 365 days of the year were the same
to .

I tried to sit up, but I knew I was completely naked, only covered by a thin towel.

Mom seemed unaware and said, "Get up and eat breakfast... oh... no, I should say
lunch."

I glanced down at my crotch, looked up, and said somewhat embarrassedly, "Mom, I... I'm not wearing any
clothes."

"Get up, I've seen you like this before. I just washed your clothes yesterday, they're still drying outside
. Just bear with it." Although Mom said this with a smile, I still noticed a blush creeping across her
face . My face turned even redder because I knew my genitals were in
the state of every normal man's morning routine; even with a towel wrapped around them, the shape would still be very obvious.

Mom laughed and said, "I didn't expect you to be shy sometimes, hehe... even
shy . Okay, okay, Mom's going out now. You eat your breakfast obediently, and take a good shower afterward
. Your clothes should be almost dry by then. Put them in and get dressed, then wait patiently for Mom to come back
from grocery shopping . Remember, don't go out tonight."

I said "oh" again, my face turning even redder. Mom smiled, got up, and walked towards the door. I watched as
my mother walked, her white pants creating creases that outlined the curves of her trembling hips.
I could almost feel the fullness and softness of those two plump mounds. I felt that even
without me getting an erection, if my mother turned around, she would definitely see that prominent tent in her pants.

So, a woman who arouses a man's desire doesn't necessarily have to wear revealing clothes, and a woman who is considered sexy
doesn't necessarily have a perfect face and figure. And

the person who can get an erection isn't necessarily someone unrelated to you…

It was already past four in the afternoon, and my mother still hadn't returned. My clothes were long dry, and I
was starving. If it were any other weekend, my mother would have been back much earlier to keep me from going out at night
. Why was she so late this time?

I sat in front of the computer, utterly bored. Nothing seemed to interest me.

It was strange; I never used to pay attention to when my mother came home. Even if I was hungry, I wouldn't
care. But why was I so eagerly waiting for her to come home today? Could it be that something was wrong with me... ?

A sudden, urgent ringing of the phone interrupted my thoughts. I quickly went to the phone, wondering if it was my mother
calling because something had happened. I felt a little uneasy.

"Hello, is this Abao?" Abao is my nickname; few people besides my mother call me that. This
woman's voice wasn't my mother's, but it was so familiar, yet I couldn't quite place it.

"Yes, it is. Who are you?"

"You can't believe it? You've forgotten me so quickly? Sigh, all these years of sharing joys and sorrows with you, I'm truly
heartbroken!"

Could it be... could it be her!? My heart suddenly skipped a beat. Impossible, how
could it be her? But that voice, that tone, it's the voice I hear in my dreams almost every day...

"Kexin?" I was almost unsure if I could still call out that name during the day.

"That's more like it, you're something else. Um... I'm back. You... are you free?"

Back? Kexin is back? Where did she come from? It's as if she came from another planet, or as if
she never left my life.

"I...I'm free, you...where are you?" I could barely control my voice. I
never believed I would stutter when talking to a woman, but now I couldn't
straighten my voice no matter what, because the person I was talking to wasn't a woman, but the nemesis in my life.

"Half an hour later," CT Coffee, "see you!...Same place." The phone went dead.
She didn't want to say a word to me on the phone.

After I stood there for more than ten minutes, holding the receiver, I suddenly jumped up, rushed into the bedroom,
grabbed a belt and tied it around my waist, then found a tie and tied it around my neck. I went to the kitchen, splashed water on
my hair, and then rushed out the door...

(V)

The first time I came to "CT Coffee," she was the one who brought me here. The

last time I saw her before I went abroad was also at "CT Coffee."

She said she liked it here because the coffee shop gave her a feeling of first love.

I've always been curious, I was her first love, so why did she always want to find that feeling of first love in a coffee shop like this
?

■And this feeling of first love isn't cheap; a pot of second-class coffee costs over a hundred yuan, and
a simple snack costs fifty or sixty yuan. If I were to find that feeling of first love again, I'd rather go to McDonald's.

But today, as I sit here again, I've come to like this place.

Because I felt that first love feeling again.

The tablecloth was still that familiar color, the coffee cups were still that exotic shape, and the second-class
coffee was still that overpriced, overpriced, and over-the-top aroma. Even the waitresses were still the same few
beautiful women who always made me glance at them a few more times.

"Sir, it's been a long time since you've been here. Is it the same as before?" The waitress smiled at me.

This time, I didn't even look up, just nodded and said, "The usual."

A pot of coffee, a plate of pistachios, and a bottle of Carlsberg. These are our usual three items every time we come here.

But this time, Kexin specially ordered an extra pack of Marlboro for me.

"If it were before, you would definitely go out and buy Marlboro to save five yuan," Kexin said softly,
a faint . I knew that smile wasn't mocking my past poverty, because I
saw a hint of sadness in her eyes.

A hint of a smile flickered in my melancholy eyes as I unpacked the pack of Marlboros, saying, "People
are strange. To avoid being ripped off by five dollars, I'd go to a convenience store two blocks away;
but to drink this coffee that only costs a dozen dollars in the supermarket, I'd travel all this way, sitting here
willingly letting them rip me off."

Xin understood the implication of my words. She stared at the coffee cup for a while before saying, "Alright, you
great philosopher, it's been so long, and you're already giving me this spiel."

"How are you?" "You have a new girlfriend, right? Is she prettier than me?" "How's your aunt's
health It's been so long, I wonder if she still recognizes me?" Xin bombarded me
with questions.

Had it really been a long time? Only a year, yet her questions made it seem
like we'd been separated for centuries. Actually, 365 days a year can easily pass quickly. For example, if you spend your
day watching porn on your computer, then go to a bar and get drunk, and
continue watching what you didn't finish the day before, 365 days will pass as quickly as a single day.

The only thing that makes me feel like I've lived through 365 days is the different dreams I have every night
…

“Why is your beard so long? How long has it been since you shaved?” “Your hair looks like a bird's nest, like
you're trying to hatch eggs in it!” “Why are your lenses so thick again? Luckily your nose is high, otherwise you definitely
wouldn't be able to wear them.”

I didn't want to come to see you like this either! But when I was about to shave, I found that
the razor was rusty. I wanted to comb my hair, but I was afraid of breaking the comb. I wanted to put on my old ultra-thin glasses,
but after putting them on, I realized I couldn't tell which door was the exit and which was the bathroom door.

Besides, if I don't wear clearer glasses, how can I see you clearly? Why are you
wearing makeup ? I remember telling you before not to wear makeup, that you looked better without it than with it. Hmm, you
're decked out in designer brands
from head to toe. I guess this isn't one of those fake designer brands I bought you before. It's definitely different… No way, you're still wearing that five-yuan buy-two-get-one-free bracelet?
It looks a bit like something out of a rural-urban fringe area with that diamond ring on your finger, bigger than a coffee candy.

"Why have you become so quiet, Abao? Say something! I remember you used to be very talkative." Kexin
smoothed her hair back, took a Marlboro from the pack, and lit it with practiced ease.

"You've started smoking too?" I finally asked. Kexin took a deep drag, then
exhaled a thin plume of smoke, watching it slowly fade.

"I didn't know why you liked Marlboro so much, so I wanted to try it. I never thought I
'd be able to quit." Kexin exhaled another plume of smoke.

We didn't speak until we finished our coffee, just chain-smoking Marlboros
, exhaling thick and thin plumes of smoke.

"Where are we going now?" she asked again.

I paused, looking at her empty coffee cup, and said, "You...you still have time?" I
realized I didn't even know why she'd come back or how long she'd been gone.

Xin nodded and said, "Take me to a place that best witnesses your life this past year."

"...Okay!" It was so easy to resolve, so easy that I
answered .

We returned from "Lonely City" at 2 AM.

Xin had drunk a lot; I realized for the first time how high her alcohol tolerance was, because she could even calculate the change correctly
when .

Some say that the concentration of alcohol in the body is inversely proportional to the realism of the world and directly
proportional to the amount of hormones secreted—that's absolutely true. Because in the taxi, our hands were already inside each other
's pants, and our tongues were already in each other's mouths.

She suggested coming to my house. I had originally planned to take care of things with her in the restroom of "Lonely City,"
but she said she missed my bed.

After getting out of the taxi, we went in, entered the bedroom, and lay down on the bed. Our lips were still locked.

I didn't even see clearly if my mother was still fast asleep on the sofa as before; Kexin and I
were already naked on the bed.

Our lips finally parted, sliding down to each other's bodies, kissing (
or until we reached the most sensitive spots,
where the kiss softened.

When my mouth was filled with that long-lost taste of fluid, I pulled my weapon from her mouth
and entered her body with lightning speed, beginning my beast-like thrusts,
wildly pounding, as if the person lying beneath me wasn't my beloved woman, but a sworn
enemy .

Kexin's cries were loud and painful, as if each of my thrusts pierced her vitals, which
further stimulated my desire, that desire to conquer. I sprinted her from the bed to the floor, then from the floor
to the computer desk. I even considered carrying her to the living room sofa and having a wild time with her.

When we got back to bed, Kexin's voice was a little hoarse, but my fighting spirit remained...
The more we fought, the stronger we became!

I can't remember how many orgasms I had tonight, but I do remember that the last time I injected my fluids into
her body, it was already dawn.

(VI)

When I woke up, Kexin was still fast asleep. Her soft body lay in my arms, like a gentle
kitten.

I couldn't bear to wake her, so I dressed myself and gently opened the door.

My mother wasn't home, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Why did I feel guilty this time? I couldn't explain it, maybe it was because I'd never brought a woman
home late at night before. My mother must have heard me last night, so she didn't come in this morning to put breakfast on my table. I
checked my watch; it was only a little past ten. My mother must have gone out to buy groceries. There were two pieces of toasted bread and
two cups of warm milk on the coffee table. My heart warmed, and I stared blankly at the two cups of milk.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" I didn't know when, but Kexin was already sitting beside me, resting her head
on my chest. She said, "That's so kind of you, you even prepared breakfast for me." She was wearing one of my
shirts , nothing underneath.

I hugged her and said, "Wearing so little, aren't you afraid my mom will see?"

Kexin pouted and said, "We're all women, so what if she sees? You're different..." She
grabbed my lapels through my pants, "You have to dress properly at home." Caught off guard,

I couldn't argue. I picked up the cup and brought it to her lips, saying,
"Yes, so I have to breastfeed you while still dressed."

Kexin chuckled, pulling my hand, and the milk spilled from the cup, splashing
onto her breasts. Because her shirt was half-open, the milk didn't spill on her clothes, but all over her two
soft, white breasts.

Xin punched me lightly and said, "You're so naughty!" I put down the cup, unbuttoned her clothes,
and said , "If you won't let me breastfeed you, then you'll have to breastfeed me." I bent down, took her nipple into my mouth,
and sucked on the milk that had dripped down.

Xin laughed so hard her body trembled, saying, "Hehe...you're so naughty, that's not my milk, ouch...

it's so itchy...hum..." I reached out and grabbed her other bouncing breast, kneading
it saying, "So sweet...mmm...so fragrant...um...this kind of breakfast is really delicious...hum, squeeze
out more..."

Xin groaned, "You naughty boy, oh...eating breakfast like this...ouch...you
usually , usually with your aunt, hum...do you eat breakfast like this too..." Even as she said this,
the hand that was holding my "handle" started to stroke it as well.

Hearing her mention my mother, my heart skipped a beat, and I immediately recalled the scene of squeezing my mother's
breasts … that fullness, the ever-changing contours in my hands, gave me the illusion
that the nipple I was sucking now belonged to my mother…

“Ouch… don’t suck so hard… don’t squeeze so hard… ouch… it hurts…”

Xin simply slipped her hand into my pants, and my body trembled again, as if even that hand had become
my mother ’s hand…

My mind completely transformed into another image: I was lying in my mother’s arms, her
nipple , my arms tightly wrapped around her waist, my mother supporting her breast with one hand, and lovingly stroking
my hair with the other…

I became excited, and one hand slid down, slipping between her thighs, into a wet
thicket… between the warm, tender flesh, I found the entrance, and the opening… That tiny protrusion at the opening… I
fiddled with it, and Mom got excited, her legs clamping tightly around my hand, her waist undulating.
Streams of hot spring water flowed continuously from the opening, into my palm…

That gentle hand was still soothing my spirited lion, sometimes patting its shoulder,
sometimes stroking its head, sometimes gently shaking its forelegs… as if afraid of its anger, or perhaps
trying to ignite its beastly nature… Little did she know that energy was slowly accumulating within the lion's body, accumulating… "Zan...

" I yelled, leaping to my feet and grabbing the throbbing, uncontrollable lion in my hand, ready to
unleash its energy... The woman before me knelt obediently beneath the lion, her hands resting on my thighs,
her bright red vulva slightly parted, revealing a small red snake slowly wriggling inside... Fair
skin , long eyebrows, half-closed phoenix eyes—it was my mother's beautiful face... I couldn't hold back any longer and
softly called out, "Mom..."...

The volcano finally erupted, lava gushing forth, spraying into her mouth, her cheeks... Her little snake
also emerged, seemingly unafraid of the scalding lava, or perhaps accepting a scalding bath...

The door suddenly opened, like a bolt from the blue, because I saw my mother holding a plastic bag in one hand,
staring wide- eyed at the two of us... I felt like I had fallen into an ice cellar, looking down at the woman below—it was
Kexin, her beautiful face covered in white liquid, her cheeks as red as tomatoes. I finally realized
what I had just done, and what had happened now.

Xin quickly stood up, swallowed what was in her mouth, and then snorted through her nose,
"Auntie." I also quickly covered my crotch with my hand and took a deep breath.

My mother's face turned from pale to flushed. She looked at me for a while, then turned her head away and said, "Quickly
put your clothes on...be careful not to catch a cold."

I quickly found my pants on the sofa and shivered as I put them on. Unexpectedly, because I was too nervous, I
accidentally pinched my crotch when I was zipping it up, and I cried out in pain. My mother was startled by my cry and turned her head.
She saw my thing, which looked like a red-hot iron rod, and was stunned.

Xin bent down nervously and asked, "Are you...are you alright?" I covered my crotch and frowned,
saying, "It hurts so much..." Xin squatted down and said, "Let go, let me see." I saw my mother
turn away again, her face flushed.

It took a while to clean myself up. My mother had already gone into the room. Knowing the awkward situation, Kexin
went into the bedroom, put on her clothes, and then quietly left the room
without saying .

I couldn't stop her, and I knew she couldn't stay here now; it would be
absurd .

But strangely, this time when she left, I didn't feel any reluctance,
not even a thought about when I would see her again.

Was I numb to emotions, or had I already found a new anchor in my heart?

(VII)

The house was eerily quiet. At this time of year, Mom would usually be washing vegetables and cooking, nagging incessantly in the kitchen
. But now, what was she doing in her room?

I lay quietly on the bed, my mind still reeling from what had just happened.

The look in Mom's eyes kept flashing through my mind—that incredibly complex look. I'm good at reading women's thoughts from
their eyes, and I wanted to analyze something from Mom's gaze,
but I couldn't. A look that contains so much, you can't really tell what it is.

I didn't dare think about what had just happened; it was too coincidental and too embarrassing. But I also wanted to relive that
moment—it was too exciting and too unbelievable. I actually fantasized about my mother, whom I've known for over twenty years
, and the fantasy felt so real and intense. I'd often heard people say that many
teenagers have an Oedipus complex, but I never imagined it would exist in me. Before,
my mother was just a simple, gentle, and somewhat nagging woman, but now,
she seems to have become the embodiment of sexiness and love.

I'm not sure what kind of love this is. It seems to be a little of everything, yet it seems to be nothing at all
.

My lower body started hurting again; this time it hurt quite badly. Especially after sex, a man
's manhood is at its most vulnerable. I couldn't help but take it out and rub it.

The bedroom door opened, and my mother came in without knocking again. But this time, I learned my lesson and
slowly inserted it. I saw she was holding a bottle of safflower oil, and a thought flashed through my mind: Mom's going to put
some medicine on me…

Mom sat down beside me expressionlessly and said in a very calm tone, "How serious is the injury?"
I nodded. Mom said, "Let me put some medicine on you. That…that area is more dangerous. Putting
some ."

I said "Oh," and reached for the bottle.

Mom said, "Let me do it for you. It's inconvenient for you to do it yourself. The injury is…it's down there, you
can't see it yourself."

My heart warmed, and my lower body twitched slightly. I nodded and said, "Thank you, Mom."
Mom glanced at me, with that indescribable look in her eyes, but only for a moment.

I pulled back the blanket and then pulled my pants down to my calves.

Mom's face flushed slightly, but her expression remained calm. She poured some medicated oil into her hand, rubbed it in
, and then used one hand to lift up the limp snake.

When Mom's fingers touched it, I couldn't help but tremble and let out a soft moan.

Mom looked up at me and said, "Does it hurt a lot?" I shook my head and took a deep breath. Because I
couldn't let it react in my mother's hands.

But when my mother's hand fully grasped it, all the blood in my body involuntarily flowed to
that spot . Although I had imagined the feeling of being held by my mother many times, I truly experienced it now

... First, a slight coolness, then being enveloped by a slightly damp warmth... It was a very
intimate warmth, a very safe embrace...

Perhaps to alleviate the embarrassment of my thing slowly growing in her hands, or perhaps to divert my
attention , my mother broke the silence and asked, "Why is Kexin back?" I shook my head and said, "I don't
know, she called me yesterday, and I went out. You weren't there then."

My mother nodded and said, "I bought some things on the street then... When I came back at night and you weren't there,
I thought you had gone to the bar by yourself again." She lifted my tip with three fingers, then added some medicine to the wound
, and then enveloped it again.

I hummed again and simply closed my eyes.

My mother continued, "Actually, when you go to those bars, are you going to drink or to
find a girlfriend?"

"To drink. But every time I get drunk, a 'girlfriend' just appears automatically..."

I felt my mother's hand suddenly tighten, as if she had thought of something.

I quickly changed the subject, "Mom, what did you buy on the street yesterday? Why did it take you so long
?"

My mother didn't answer for a long time. I opened my eyes and found my mother staring blankly at my crotch,
seemingly thinking about something.

I called out, "Mom..." My mother looked up at me, her expression somewhat strange, a half-smile, and said, "You really want to know what

I bought ?" 　My heart skipped a beat at my mother's sudden smile. But now, of course, I had to go along with : "Yes, yes, I want to know what nice things Mom bought for me." 　　Mom lowered her head and said, "It's something for me, but... but you could also say it's for you ." 　　I was very curious, and seeing that Mom seemed a little shy—this was the first time I'd ever seen her shy—I quickly said, "What is it? Can I see it?" 　　Mom looked up and said, "You really want to see?... You might regret it after you see it." I increasingly felt that this thing seemed quite important to Mom, and my curiosity grew stronger: "I want to see , I want to see, I won't regret it." 　　Mom stared at me for a while, nodded, and said, "Okay." She stood up, hesitated for a moment , and then surprisingly unbuttoned her blouse, paused for a moment, and then took off her pants as well. 　　My breath almost stopped, because what came into view was a set of sexy purple lingerie. The bra was very small, just two thin pieces. Although it couldn't hold up my mother's full breasts, leaving most of them exposed, it did lift her slightly sagging curves well, making them appear so proud and round.

The underwear was a thong, barely covering the most inappropriate parts; her full buttocks were
practically naked. Fishnet stockings were attached to the underwear, paired with black high heels—
the exact same outfit as the actresses in the pictures I'd seen online.

My mouth dropped open, speechless. I could only manage, "Mom…you…"

My mother blushed and smiled. "Yes, this is what I bought. What? Doesn't it look good?"

I quickly said, "No, no…no, it looks good, really. It's just…"

"Just what…don't you let your mother wear underwear like this too?" Saying this, my mother twirled around
and struck a pose.

After the initial shock, my penis became erect again, not entirely because of
seeing my mother's attire, but because I remembered what she had just said, "It's something I bought for me, but
you could also say it's for you." It could also be said to be for me? What did that
mean? Was my mother wearing this for me to see? Why would she want to see it for me? Could it be…

Mom saw my reaction below? Her expression turned slightly embarrassed. She didn't put
her clothes , but slowly sat down beside me again, placing a hand on my thigh, and said, “You've forgotten
… actually, yesterday was your birthday, and also the anniversary of my mother's passing, so I wanted to buy a
gift … I couldn't think of anything to buy, so I bought this…”

I then remembered that yesterday really was my birthday. I'd forgotten my own birthday, which
was really… wait… so… did Kexin come back yesterday also for my birthday? …Then why
didn't she say "Happy Birthday" at all?

"I bought a lot of groceries and red wine, wanting to celebrate this
special day with you... but I didn't expect you to go out anyway, and I certainly didn't expect..."

"Mom... don't say anymore..." I was so excited that I reached out and hugged my mother's waist, but as soon as
I touched her half-naked body, I regretted it—I shouldn't have been so abrupt. Hugging my mother like that
was not only disrespectful and disrespectful, but it could also ruin this
precious moment of warmth between us.

Unexpectedly, my mother moved closer to me, her warm, smooth skin against my
chest, and said softly, "You naughty boy... I don't know if I owed you something in my past life. I've done
so much for you, and you still don't appreciate it. You still want to go out and fool around..."

My hands, which were around her waist, trembled slightly, I didn't know if it was from nervousness or excitement. I couldn't understand
the meaning behind her words, I just felt a little ambiguous, so I didn't know what to say.

Suddenly, Mom hooked her hand around my waist, her soft breasts pressed against my chest,
and she whispered slowly and gently in my ear, "You know... Mom didn't
sleep at all last night... I was waiting for you to come home... Mom sat on the sofa last night... wearing this lingerie..."

My mind was becoming increasingly confused, and I couldn't believe this was real. I stammered, "Mom... you...
why... why did you do this..."

Mom seemed to shift her body slightly, her cheek slowly pressing against mine, her movements gentle, her voice
growing softer, "You little rascal... you know perfectly well... and yet you manage to trick so many girls into bed..."
Suddenly, she grasped my erect penis...

I finally came to a conclusion, but my mind went blank; I simply couldn't believe it was real.
"Mom...you...you..."

Mom's breathing became rapid. "Actually...actually, the night before last...Mom
didn't sleep when you came back...Mom knows what you did...you little rascal...you're playing tricks on Mom like this...
but ...you don't know what Mom wants...you idiot...Mom has already given you so many hints..."

My heart was pounding in my chest: "I...I...Mom...you...you want to..."

Mom nodded beside my ear, letting out a soft sigh: "You little devil..." She let out a soft moan and fell into
my arms...

I had imagined what it would feel like to hold Mom in my arms, I had even fantasized about inserting my penis into Mom's
body , it was an extremely stimulating feeling, when there are too many women around you, or when you have sex too frequently
and you don't like men, the only thing that can arouse your sexual interest is this kind of stimulation. But now,
perhaps by some twist of fate, Mom's soft, boneless body really fell into my arms...If I just turn over,
maybe I can really make this fantasy a reality.

My mother's fingers kept changing their grip and frequency, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes tight, sometimes loose, extremely
skillful and extremely comfortable, stirring the fire in my chest, burning brighter and brighter... I even wanted to untie her
bra strap...

But deep inside, a voice cried out: "You can't do this... She's your mother... your own

mother... You can't treat her like this..."

Finally, I mustered up my courage and reached out to hug her tightly... The feeling of holding my mother
was indescribable... I even forced myself to put my hand inside her panties... But... But... I can't!

I can't do it!

I suddenly pushed her away, picked up the clothes thrown on the ground, and rushed
out ...

(VIII)

I didn't go to "Lonely City," nor to "CT Coffee."

I went to the top of the only small hill in the city and admired the city's beautiful night view.

It turns out that no matter how many dirty deals and ugly farces are happening in this city at this moment

, the city's night view can still be so beautiful.

Under the twinkling starlight, amidst the myriad lights of homes, and the sounds of singing and dancing,

I began to doubt my view of life.

I also began to question how I was living my life.

I was too careless with my life; I squandered my time too easily. I could spend twenty-four hours a day
doing incredibly boring things, or sleep with several different women in a single day. I could...
Time seeps into the tattered Carlsberg cigarette case, then evaporates in the smoke of Marlboro cigarettes; I can also sit in front of the computer writing
things I don't even know what I'm writing, writing tens of thousands of words before deleting them; I can even lie in bed
hugging my pillow, lost in thought, for an entire night…

I'm too attached to life, too focused on what I want in my heart. I can
become decadent for a woman I love, I can be in a daze all day because of a dream about her. I can
rush out like a madman after receiving her call, running blindly without regard for anything, unafraid of being hit by a car on the road; I

can keep calling out her name while making love with other women; for her, I can give up my
career, my life, my mother…

my mother? Mom… the woman who just lay in my arms, the one I couldn't tell was my lover or my
family… Should I regret what I just did, or should I be glad? Just now,
I felt a voice deep inside me stopping me from doing things I shouldn't have done, but now another
voice tells me that pushing her away was the wrong thing to do…

She raised me for over twenty years, she watched me grow up, her
meticulous care and tenderness—what have I done for her in return? What can I do to help her? I
can't even discern what kind of love she has for me!

I've never truly understood her feelings, or rather, I've never tried to understand her
feelings from a woman's perspective. At most, I've only tried to think about how I could make her happy from a mother's point of view.

So, when she said those things just now, I could hardly believe my ears, even
less that it was true—that my own mother would say such things, do such things. But now,
I realize that everything she said and did was so natural, so sacred and beautiful.

Because she loves me… even though that love contains so many layers of meaning… but she loves me…

love, what a beautiful word! I had desecrated it with my own hands…

A cold wind blew, and I shivered involuntarily. I reached up and buttoned the top button of my shirt, then
rolled down my sleeves.

So much had happened in the past two days, more than in a whole year of my life.

What would happen next? How should I live? Should I live another year like before, or should every day be like these past two days,
with constant unexpected events?

Dawn was approaching. What was Mom doing? Was she sleeping, or suffering from insomnia?

I decided to go back. No matter what, I couldn't run away like this. I should face this… I should
face my life!

When I got home, I didn't habitually look at the clock on the wall. I just
glanced and went straight into Mom's bedroom.

Mom's bed was empty too.

I searched the whole house, but there was no sign of her. I found a note on my bedside table with
delicate handwriting:

"Xiao Bao:

Take a shower when you get back, then get a good night's sleep. Breakfast is in the fridge; just heat it up in the microwave
.

It's best to go to bed early and wake up early from now on, sticking to a regular sleep schedule so you can develop a good biological clock.

I hope my son will grow up to be a responsible and ambitious man!

My savings book is in your drawer; the password is your birthday. It contains all my savings. Use it sparingly until you find
a job ; Mom can't take care of you forever.

Take good care of yourself and cherish every day of your life! Because life belongs to you!

And also… please forgive Mom for everything she did last night… Mom will always love you…

Mother."

I couldn't hold back anymore; tears streamed down my face, and my hands holding the note trembled uncontrollably.

I rushed out of the house, running frantically through the streets and alleys, asking everyone
where my mother was. I even neurotically asked people if they knew which company my mother worked for.

They all said I was an idiot… and I admit it. Because I didn't even know which company my mother worked for;
even I found it laughable.

I didn't get home until I was completely exhausted. I sat on the sofa, waiting for my mother to return. This was the
only wait.

I believed that the moment she walked in, I would hug her tightly, and passionate kisses would
rain down on her face.

But even after I fell asleep on the sofa, my mother didn't come home.

The first day was the same, the second day the same, and the third day the same.

Everyone knows that classic vow from *A Chinese Odyssey*, but at this moment, I felt
its profound meaning once again.

I think no one would ever imagine that those words would be used to describe my mother, but at this moment, I felt
it.

Was I experiencing the most painful thing in the world…?

After a week of wallowing in memories, I finally decided to find a job. My mother was right; I
should be a man. I can't go on like this.

I pulled out a long-forgotten suit and tie from the closet. My mother
had given me them for my birthday when I graduated from university. The suit cost her a month's salary at the time, but I remember
the look in her eyes when I put it on—it wasn't just the pride of looking at her proud son. Looking back
now see a look of affection and love.

I took a thorough shower, then went to the Yaohan department store and spent 300 yuan on a
trendy hairstyle—both dignified and reflecting my own personality. I
also had her shave my long-grown beard. I remember as I left, the cashier stared at me for a long time, as if the person who had just come
in wasn't the one in front of her.

I gave her a confident smile, a smile I believe was a turning point for both of us
.

(The End)

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[Dotted Line] The Unbreakable Bond Between Mother and Son Series - Part One of the Extraordinary Trilogy

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