[The Soul Lost on the Yellow River] (Incest on the Boat)

Soul Lost on the Yellow River

Author: lsld2005

The Yellow River flows swiftly, its banks lined with the silent Loess Plateau, like
a group of statues of Chinese farmers who have remained silent for thousands of years, allowing the Mother River to carve away chunks of flesh from them year after year. I
wandered through the mountains and rivers of China like a bard, absorbing the spirit and vitality of heaven and earth
, gathering seeds of poetry and song.

After traveling across most of China, I deeply felt that the landscapes of the south were too delicate, only suitable for sightseeing.
The sound of the Li River was as moving as the folk songs of Liu Sanjie, but it was merely like Liu Sanjie herself—a village girl. But when I actually sat in
a small boat on the Yellow River, amidst its mighty roar, I clearly heard countless voices
crying out.

This cry has echoed from ancient times to the present day, from the roar of Pangu when he created the world, to
the joyous song of Shennong when he harvested the first grain of rice; from the labor chants of Yu the Great when he controlled the floods, to
the lamentations of countless corpses at the foot of the Great Wall; from Su Qin's alliances and Zhang Yi's counter-alliances; from the songs of praise at Qin Shi Huang's coronation, to the thunderclap on that
stormy night in Dazexiang; from Liu Bang's "The Great Wind," to Cao Cao's short song; from Fu Jian's lofty ambitions,
to the earth-shaking drums of the An Lushan Rebellion; from Zong Ze's three cries to cross the river in grief, to the trampling of the Mongol army's iron hooves;
from the nursery rhyme "When the King of Chuang comes, there will be no taxes," to the barbaric declaration "Keep your head, lose your hair; keep your hair, lose your head." And the gunfire of the Xinhai Revolution, the artillery bombardment of the Northern Expedition, the howls of the Japanese devils, and the howling wind and neighing horses
in the green fields of the mountains along the Yellow River . 　　Sailing on the Yellow River, I often feel as if I'm sailing through the long river of history, going upstream. Five thousand years of songs are deposited in the thick silt at the bottom of the river, roared out by the bronze-skinned boatmen with their roughest voices, telling the stories of this nation's great joys and sorrows. 　　This is my sixth time on the Yellow River. Each time, the same person rows the boat for me—an old boatman in his seventies, and this time is no exception. The crisscrossing wrinkles on his face remind me of Luo Zhongli's oil painting "Father," bearing the unique mark of the Chinese nation. His rough skin tightly hugs the bulging muscles of his arms. His small boat is old and worn, but it gives you an inexplicable sense of security; even in the most turbulent waves, you can confidently entrust your life to him. 　　The small boat travels upstream, the river roars, and the mountains are magnificent. Looking at the endless Loess Plateau on both banks, I feel as if the ancestors of the Chinese nation have transformed into this plateau, looking down at me, and a sense of awe for history and time arises spontaneously. 　　As the boat approached the gorge, the current became swift and the spray flew everywhere. The old boatman struggled to hold the oar, and the small boat, despite repeated impacts stubbornly pushed against the current, avoiding the rocks and shallows, demonstrating its unwavering will to resist the tide. The river water crashed against the side of the boat, shattering, and the wind blew onto my face, cool and carrying the smell of water and earth. The Yellow River, Mother River, could this be the taste of mother's milk? 　　Suddenly, a long shout rang out from the overcast sky, echoing across the river and valley: 　　"Climb a high mountain 　　　—look at the plains, 　　　see my second sister 　　　—in the river bend. 　　　The Yellow River flows 　　　—to the East Sea. 　　　Brother misses his sister 　　　—but cannot reach her." 　　I looked up and followed the sound; a figure in an old sheepskin coat and several goats disappeared behind a withered tree atop a cliff, while his song lingered. By then, the boat had passed the gorge, and before me lay a wide, gentle expanse of water. 　　"How beautiful," I murmured. 　　As if hearing my words, the unknown shepherd cracked his whip sharply, the sound echoing throughout the land from somewhere unseen, he began to sing another song, which the old boatman, rowing at the stern, responded with his own. 　　This time, their lyrics were entirely in the local dialect, which I only half understood, but the melody felt mournful and soaring , filled with endless sorrow. The two sang, one after the other, like two lone geese circling and grappling in the air, battling the wind and clouds, finally soaring higher and higher, farther and farther, until the shepherd's song faded into the distance, disappearing without a trace. We 　　traveled in silence until, nearing our destination, the old boatman, who had been silently rowing the boat the whole time, invited me to his home . He said that old people have a keen sense of premonition, and he had a premonition that when I next came to the Yellow River, he might already be gone. I had come to the Yellow River six times, and each time he had ferried me across—it was a kind of destiny. As we parted, I stopped by his house for a chat and a drink; it would be a fitting end to our years of acquaintance. 　　"Seventy-three, eighty-four, even if the King of Hell doesn't call, you'll go on your own," he said calmly. 　　This suited me perfectly. The folk song I'd just heard blended the styles of Xintianyou and Hua'er, unlike anything I 'd ever heard before. Subconsciously, I imagined myself as an ancient official collecting folk songs—a romantic profession requiring to every possible place to gather artistic treasures. But I wasn't a bee spreading pollen; I was merely a butterfly sipping its nectar, and insatiably so. 　　When the boat reached the shore, dusk was approaching. In the distance, I could see a sparse cluster of lights—that was the village. The old boatman moored the boat in a bend in the river, and we jumped ashore, walking along the wet, muddy country path towards the lights. The rugged mountain path often creates a strong illusion; the lights seem to flicker right in front of you, yet you never quite reach them. After more than half an hour, we entered the village. By then, the black sky had completely enveloped the earth. A dog, smelling strangers, barked incessantly behind a high courtyard wall, prompting all the dogs in the village to bark. 　　Passing the village store, the old boatman bought some wine, peanuts, and half a pound of pig's head meat, saying he wanted to have a good . Although I couldn't hold my liquor, refusing at this moment would be an insult to my host, so I reluctantly agreed, pretending to be generous. 　　The old boatman's house was two dilapidated tile-roofed rooms. The mud-brick courtyard wall had collapsed halfway , with a large pile of earth clinging to it. Things were piled haphazardly in the yard. His wife had died many years ago, and he had no children, yet the house was very tidy, unlike the mess and filth often found in the homes of bachelors. 　　The old boatman drank a ladle of cold water, beckoned me to sit on the kang (heated brick bed), moved an old red-lacquered square table onto it, took out bowls and chopsticks, chopped up the pig's head meat, and put it in two large, rough porcelain bowls along with peanuts. He placed them on the table and filled two other bowls with water.

He sat cross-legged on the kang (a heated brick bed), raised his bowl, and said, "Brother, we've known each other for so many years on this Yellow River
. I know you're no ordinary man. Let's finish this bowl first, then we can talk slowly."

I also raised my bowl and said, "Brother, you think highly of me. If I don't drink, I'll be disrespecting you. I'll risk my life
to drink with you to the end!"

This was exactly what he wanted to hear. He gave me a thumbs up and said, "Alright, I'll drink first!" He tilted his head back and
gulped down the bowl of wine.

As soon as I put the bowl to my lips, a strong smell of alcohol hit my head, making me want to vomit. I gritted my teeth and
poured the wine down my throat. Instantly, it felt like a line of fire was burning my esophagus and stomach. I choked
and coughed , but I still managed to finish the bowl. A moment later, my whole body felt hot and energetic.

I wiped away the tears and snot I'd coughed up, only to see the old boatman sitting opposite me, smiling. He said,
"Brother, I've been rowing this Yellow River for decades, I've seen all sorts of people. There's no such
thing as someone who can't drink, it's just a matter of whether they dare to drink. Only those with guts can be considered courageous. That last bowl of wine was to test
your guts. If you didn't finish it, I wouldn't consider you a friend today. I can tell you're a real man.
The rest is up to you, I won't force you."

In the blink of an eye, both bowls were refilled with wine. I ate a few bites of food, the effects of the alcohol kicked in, and I felt a little dizzy.
Fueled by the alcohol, I started telling him about my years of wandering, the customs and traditions of different places, and my own experiences: fighting in
Xinjiang , herding sheep in Inner Mongolia, swindling in Beijing, being detained in Shanghai, and even smuggling a little heroin at the border. Under the influence of alcohol, my memories were unusually clear, those old stories from years ago seemed vivid in my mind. The old boatman
listened as he drank, occasionally adding his own anecdotes, which I found captivating. 　　After several rounds of drinks, one bottle of wine was empty, and the old boatman unscrewed the cap of another bottle. Just then, I started reminiscing my youth, traveling all over the country with my carpenter master. Emboldened by the alcohol, I patted the dark red lacquered square table where the food and drinks were laid out and said, "Brother, don't blame me for being honest, but you don't really have anything valuable at home. This table . The wood, the workmanship, the lacquer—everything is top-notch. Let me tell you, carpentry is like cooking; the simpler the work, the more skill is required. The person who made this table must have had at least a decade of experience. Even my master back then might not have been able to make one like this." 　　The old boatman chuckled and said, "You're right. Even the best carpenter in the world, given this piece of wood, might not be able to make one like this. Guess who made this table?" 　　I asked, my eyes blurry with drunkenness, "Who made it?" 　　"I made it." 　　"Keep bragging, brother. If you had that skill, would you still be here rowing a boat? You'd be rich by now." 　　"Don't believe me?" The old boatman took a sip of his drink and said, "I certainly don't have carpentry skills, but this table really was made by me." 　　"Really?" I leaned forward and said, "Tell me what you did?" 　　He fell silent, the smile vanishing from his face. He picked up his wine bowl and sipped it slowly. After a while, he sighed , put down the empty bowl, refilled it, picked it up again, and said, "Brother, if you really want to know , then drink this bowl of wine with me." 　　I vaguely sensed something unusual behind this table, so I forced myself to drink the bowl of wine, and strangely, I became much more sober. I heard him sigh, "More than fifty years... I'm practically in my grave, what else is there to hold onto? Telling you will make me feel a little better." 　　And so I heard the following story. The old boatman's heavy dialect made it necessary for me to retell the story in my own words. And with each word I typed, my hands trembled. 　　　　　*** *** *** *** 　　"Seventy-six years ago, I was born in a small village on the banks of the Yellow River. Of course, not here. My hometown is very, very far away, farther than you can imagine." 　　"My home is very close to the Yellow River, and the roaring sound of the Yellow River was my lullaby in my childhood. My father was a well-known boatman in the area, and I was his only son. In his many years of life on the brink of disaster, he had walked through the gates of death more than once. He couldn't bear to let me go back to rowing the boat, and he wouldn't even let me board his boat to look at it or touch it. Therefore, I didn't follow in my father's footsteps like most families, but started working in the fields at the age of six. By the age of fifteen, I was already a skilled farmer." 　　"Fifteen is a very strange age. People call young people at this age 'half-grown boys,' which clearly means they are half-adults. At this age, people begin to understand everything, yet they don't quite understand it, and they are curious about everything. For example, sex, and women and men." 　　"The morning after my first nocturnal emission, I went to work in the fields listlessly. While resting on the edge of the field, Yin Laosi, whose field was right next to mine, came over to borrow a light for his pipe. He was three years older than me, already married , and had just had a son a few months prior. We usually got along well, so I nervously told him about the strange thing I'd noticed that morning. He laughed heartily, and then, through the rising smoke, told me everything about being a real man." 　　"At that moment, my shock was indescribable. I realized that the world hidden behind morality and chastity was like this. That such things, so wonderful, could make one lose their mind and all thought, existed in this world." 　　"I began to recall everything from my dream last night. Yes, the feeling was so exhilarating; I felt my blood rushing through my body. My penis involuntarily swelled, bulging from my crotch, stubbornly trying to burst through the coarse cloth trousers that bound it. Yin Laosi noticed my abnormality, laughed, tapped my penis , and got up and left." 　　"I sat alone in the field until dusk before slowly carrying my hoe home. My mother was preparing dinner and, seeing my absent-minded appearance, asked me what was wrong. I gave her a vague answer and stretched out on the kang (a heated brick bed) to rest." 　　"My mother, on her bound feet, bustled about on the ground. It was summer, and her clothes, soaked with sweat, clearly outlined the contours of her full breasts, which trembled slightly with her movements. Watching her slightly plump waist and hips sway within her trousers, I suddenly realized for the first time that she was not just my mother, but also a woman."

Her body suddenly became incredibly alluring, drawing my gaze
to .

"I remembered what Lao Si had told me during the day, and the strange noises I'd heard countless nights.
Did she and my father do the same thing in the dark? I couldn't help but imagine everything that
happened ."

"The answer to this question came quickly. We ate a quick dinner that night. Poor families can't afford lamps, so we went to bed early.
Three people slept on one kang (
heated brick bed). I lay on the kang, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, feeling as if I was waiting for something, yet not knowing what it was. Time passed slowly, and I began to feel drowsy,
my mind a blur, slowly sinking into dreams."

"Suddenly, I heard my father whisper, 'Is Baowa asleep?' I
jolted awake quickly pretending to snore."

"'Asleep, snoring away.' It was my mother who spoke." Father let out an "Oh," and after a moment,
a slight rustling sound came from the darkness, like mice scurrying about. Father's breathing suddenly became heavy.

"Save your energy, we still have work to do tomorrow," Mother said to Father, then suddenly she groaned and
began .

"I opened my eyes, and the faint moonlight shone through the window paper. I saw two blurry figures
overlapping and rolling in the darkness, casting blue shadows on the wall. I could even make out that Mother was below and Father was above,
his strong arms pressing down on Mother, one hand grasping her breast, kneading something like dough. Mother
's body was wrapped around Father like a snake, her legs shamelessly spread wide, exposing her fertile field to the outside
sky, where Father was tilling, each stroke of the hoe digging deep."

"The rustling sound grew louder, and their breathing became more and more rapid." Mother couldn't help but cry out
: "Dear brother... dear man... you're making me feel so good... I can't live anymore... I'm going to die..." "

Father was panting heavily, making so much noise it could have lifted the roof off, and I could clearly hear
the slapping sound of flesh hitting flesh! Mother was desperately trying to hold her throat shut, making a crying sound, 'Ah... ah... brother...
pinch me here... rub it for me... dear brother... good brother... rub it for me... ah... ah...
Da Nanbangguo is killing me... stab... stab inside... ah... ah...'"

"I was going crazy: This is my mother! This is my own mother! These
words came from the mouth of my mother who almost never spoke to other men in the village! So slutty, so wanton, so shameless! The feeling of my blood boiling in the
fields returned to me, my penis jumped out of my crotch, throbbing painfully. I
held it in my hand and found it was much bigger, thicker, harder, and hotter than usual. "

Driven by some unknown force, I subconsciously stroked it a few times, and suddenly an unprecedented feeling
surged from my **, like a needle shooting straight to the top of my head, violently pounding my heart. I started moving
frantically . Yes, this was the feeling from last night's dream, like a bird soaring freely in the sky,
or like being immersed in a river flowing with hot water, drifting with the current. This was what I had been waiting for!"

"Father was going even harder, and Mother couldn't even speak, only moaning and groaning intermittently, kicking her legs wildly on
the kang tattered quilt. Father rolled the quilt into a ball and placed it under Mother's waist,
raising her plump white buttocks high. He reached one hand between her legs, and Mother tried to push it away, 'No... don't touch there... it's
dirty...' Father shook off her hand and stubbornly reached into that place. Suddenly she screamed, piercing through the roof
tiles and reaching into the night sky outside, no longer caring whether I could hear her or not." "

She howled like a bitch in heat, her legs raised, feet pointing skyward, arms
wrapped around her father's neck. He slammed his penis into her like a pile driver, his throat
gurgling . I masturbated, my hands moving faster, my head spinning, feeling like I was in a dream, yet
knowing it wasn't. I wanted to stop, but my hands wouldn't obey, moving faster and faster, like a
driverless cart hurtling towards a cliff, finally plunging uncontrollably.

The moment of collapse arrived, a massive wave of pleasure washed over me, completely engulfing me. My testicles trembled,
I shuddered, and semen gushed from my body, soaking the bed in
a .

Just then, my father suddenly roared, and my mother cried out desperately, 'Don't pull out…
wait for me…' My father tried his best to continue, and finally, not long after, my mother finished too. The two of them embraced,
frozen in place." The sound of teeth grinding together echoed in the darkness. Slowly, they slumped down. Mother
pulled the blanket from beneath them and covered them both tightly. "

After the climax comes exhaustion. After the initial wave of excitement subsided, the mind sank into a deep sleep.
I felt weak all over, and as I lay in bed with my eyes closed, I realized I was covered in sweat. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I suddenly
heard Mother talking to Father."

"'Brother, your health isn't what it used to be. You work hard rowing the boat during the day, so we'll reduce the
number of . Your health is important.'"

"'Hua, I'm not afraid. I'm just afraid you won't be able to endure it. Thirty is like a wolf, forty is like a tiger, fifty is like sucking the earth dry. You're
even more craving it now than before. Can I just watch you suffer?'" "

'What's a little suffering for me? You're out there in the wind and rain, you're suffering much more.'" "We've been running away
for so many years, enduring so much hardship to build this family. If anything happens to you... how can I live
? Sigh. If I hadn't insisted on making you do it so Dad would have seen, he wouldn't have died of anger..." Mother sobbed
. "

Don't cry, Hua, don't cry. It's not your fault, it's mine. I forced you first. Twenty years have passed,
why are you still so upset? I'm a beast, a brother sleeping with his own sister, what father wouldn't be furious? More than
twenty Whether you're boiled in oil or have your tongue pulled out, I'll take
responsibility for you. Go to sleep, don't think about it." "

No, I should take responsibility for you. That day, when our parents weren't home, I deliberately changed into nice clothes to seduce you so you could sleep with me.
A sister seducing her own brother, I'm more shameless than Pan Jinlian. " "Brother, you must take good care of yourself.
When it's time to go down, I'll go first and plead with the King of Hell..." Mother's voice abruptly stopped, as if Father was covering his mouth with his hand.
" I shut her up."

"'Don't talk about this anymore, go to sleep. Life's long. Baowa isn't married yet. If we're going to leave, we'll have to wait until
we see our grandson, okay?'"

"Mother didn't speak, but she probably nodded. The room quieted down, and soon Father's even
snoring filled the air, interspersed with Mother's breath, rising and falling like a harmonious couple." "

I was stunned for a long time. What their conversation revealed didn't bring me
back to my senses until dawn: My parents, they were actually siblings!"

"This fact shocked me no less than when I first learned about incest. My parents, they
were an incestuous brother and sister, and I was the product of that incest! I couldn't sleep anymore, and the next
day I was in a daze all day." When working in the fields, I would stop and stand
there in thought about everything that had happened the night before, about my mother and father's words: "The elder brother slept with his younger sister," "The younger sister
seduced her elder brother." "

For the next few days, it was the same every day. I couldn't accept this fact. My parents seemed much stranger to me
; they were no longer the strict father and kind mother they once were, but rather like a pair of adulterers. My mind was filled with the blurry images of
their naked bodies entwined together at night. Although they were no different from before, their words and actions
had become inexplicably strange to me."

"I still went to bed early every day, but I went to bed later and later, waiting to eavesdrop on my parents
' passionate encounter. Of course, I couldn't hear it every day, but every time I did, I was unusually excited. The pleasure during masturbation
was much stronger than usual. I don't know why; perhaps it's because, as a product of incest, I'm naturally sensitive to and identify with incestuous
behavior ."

"I began to pay attention to my mother's every move." My mother's figure was as full as any woman her age,
especially her breasts and buttocks. Every tremor of her breasts and buttocks when she worked or walked was
a visual stimulation for me. I often had this image in my mind: my mother naked, her snow-white flesh
dazzlingly swaying her full breasts and plump buttocks before my eyes. "

Soon, my mother noticed my strange behavior—due to long-term tension and lack of sleep, she was mentally
confused and her face was dark. Perhaps she had guessed that I had overheard their lovemaking, but she didn't know that I had heard
something more secret. She began to discuss with my father about finding me a wife."

"That autumn, after the harvest, my parents began to arrange a marriage for me. The matchmaker confidently
patted her chest on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and said she would take care of it, but how easy is it to find a wife for a poor family! After running around all over the surrounding villages,
finally away. The
girl was not bad-looking, could work, and most importantly, she didn't ask for too much dowry." After the engagement banquet,
we agreed to hold the wedding during the New Year. "

From then on, the weather grew colder day by day, the Yellow River froze, and Father couldn't go out to row the boat anymore. So Mother
and I stayed home to prepare for my wedding."

"Father had rowed boats for over twenty years and had saved some money, but it was still barely enough for the wedding. He
had to borrow money from all sides, traveling dozens of miles to borrow even a small amount. Even so, by the
time of the Laba Festival, there was still a sum of money missing, and there was no way to get it. Father was so worried
that dozens of hairs turned white. He was anxious and restless, running around everywhere, but he was met with setbacks everywhere."

"One day, he went out and didn't come back all night. Mother and I were worried sick, afraid something had happened to him
, so we didn't dare close our eyes all night, sitting on the kang (heated brick bed) waiting for Father. When he returned at dawn, he
was disheveled, with dark circles under his eyes, but his face was full of joy." Mother rushed to greet him, brushing the dust off his clothes, and asked him with concern
where he had been all night. Father trembled as he pulled a cloth bundle from his bosom, unwrapping it layer by layer. When he lifted
the last layer, Mother and I were suddenly struck by its brilliance.

"A silver dollar!" Mother exclaimed. Indeed, the cloth bundle in Father's hand contained a gleaming silver
dollar. "Father, where did you get this?" Mother asked anxiously, "You haven't done anything heinous, have you
?"

Father proudly rewrapped the silver dollar and handed it to Mother, unable to contain his joy, saying,
"What are you thinking? Even if we're poor, we can't do anything heinous. Do you know where this money came from? I
won it at Boss Qiao's house. One night, one silver dollar! One silver dollar!" Mother held the silver dollar, her hands trembling
uncontrollably . "

Old Qiao is a notorious scoundrel. His house is a gambling den. Every day, many gamblers go there all night
, and quite a few lose their entire fortune in one night. Often, people lose so much that they bet their houses, land, and even their wives. I never expected
that my usually honest and hardworking father would go to a gambling den, and actually win money."

"My mother didn't seem very happy. After putting the money away, she said to my father, 'Father, if we really can't get any
money, we can talk to them. I think they are reasonable people and won't make things too difficult for us. But we shouldn't go to Old Qiao's
house . What if we lose...'"

"My father waved his hand to interrupt her and said, 'I'm sure we won't lose. We may be poor, but we can't lose face when it comes to getting
a wife .' My mother wanted to say something more, but my father had already gone into the inner room and lay down on the kang (heated brick bed) to sleep."

"For several nights in a row, my father would come back excitedly at dawn, but exhausted, with a cloth bag in his arms
containing one or two silver dollars." The look of sorrow vanished from his face. Every day, he excitedly counted with his mother how
much left, how many more days it would take to collect the money, as if life had suddenly become incredibly wonderful. I
had never seen such a happy expression on his face in the past fifteen years. "

But on the morning of the seventh day, when Dad came home, his lips were purple from the cold. As soon as he entered the door, he rushed to the stove, squatted down,
and shivered as he warmed himself by the fire. His old sheepskin coat was nowhere to be seen. Mom quickly added firewood to the stove and
brought a quilt to wrap around Dad. It took a long time for Dad to recover."

"'Dad, what's wrong? Where's your coat?' Mom asked anxiously."

"'I lost...' Dad drank half a ladle of hot water and uttered these two words in dejection, and then he didn't say another word." "

After Dad warmed up, he lay down on the kang (a heated brick bed) and slept for a whole day. He wouldn't eat when Mom called him to eat. When
the sun down, Dad got up from the kang, his face sullen, stuffed two cold steamed buns into his pocket, and then went out again." His mother
stopped him at the door, 'Dad, don't go. I've seen enough money. Money won gambling won't last long. How can you live off it every day?'
"I won."

"I followed my mother and stopped my father, saying, 'Father, I'll talk to Lan Cao's family tomorrow and ask them to give me some
leeway ...' Before I could finish, my father roared, 'What do you know, you little brat!' He pushed me
aside and walked out the door. My mother grabbed his arm, but he shoved her aside and she stumbled and fell into my arms. My father
left without looking back and disappeared into the darkness."

"I held my mother, her head resting on my strong chest. For the first time, I felt a man's
innate protective instinct towards a woman. Although this woman was my mother, she was first and foremost a woman. This desire made me want to just
hold her like this, let her lean on me, the longer the better. She didn't say a word, just stared blankly out the door,
tears gradually welling up in her eyes and spreading across her face. Finally, it was completely dark. I helped my mother into the house.
She sat blankly on the kang (a heated brick bed), and no matter how I tried to persuade her, she just wouldn't speak."

"For fifteen years, her brother and her husband never laid a finger on her or uttered a single word of abuse. You can
imagine how much she was hurt this time. I saw that I couldn't persuade my mother to stop, so I wanted to go to Old Master Qiao's house and forcibly
drag my father back. My mother refused to let me go, saying, 'Let your father go. He'll learn his lesson from this. If he doesn't learn his lesson,
he'll never turn back. This is a good thing.'" "

That night, my father lost two more silver dollars. When he came back, he stole the only
piece of jewelry my mother had brought from her parents' home—the silver ring she had prepared for her new wife—and exchanged it for wine. He got completely drunk. This was the first time I had ever seen him
drink. After waking up, my father ransacked the place and found the silver dollars my mother had hidden, then went to the casino again. My mother had hoped that my father would learn
his lesson from this loss, so she didn't try to stop him, but she was wrong."

"From then on, Dad's face grew increasingly grim when he came home each day, his eyes became more bloodshot, and his temper
worsened . This once poor but warm home became something he found utterly repulsive. He
became addicted to alcohol, always reeking of it. When drunk, he would act out, arguing with Mom on some pretext, sometimes even
hitting her. After drinking his fill, he would go to the casino to gamble."

"When Mom hid the money, he would search high and low, turning the house upside down. If he couldn't find any money,
he would take the New Year's goods we had prepared and exchange them for gambling. The more he lost, the more he gambled, and the more he gambled, the more he lost, until he had lost more and
more. Dad sold off all the New Year's goods, and on New Year's Eve, Mom and I could only afford some gluten soup."

"Not only the New Year's goods, but anything of value was taken by Dad to exchange for alcohol and gambling stakes.
The house, which was originally sparsely furnished, gradually revealed its bare walls. Naturally, my marriage was ruined because of this.
When the bride's family returned the betrothal gifts, they said that if Dad quit gambling, there was still room for negotiation within a year."

"As soon as the bride's family left, my father used the betrothal gifts to buy wine, and then plunged into the casino. He
lost money faster and faster, from one or two silver dollars a day at most to at least three.
In just a few days, he lost all the silver dollars he had saved and borrowed. Then he started cheating everyone he could,
borrowing money from them. Because of his former good reputation, he could borrow money at first, but soon people
knew about his gambling, and he couldn't borrow any more. He started stealing chickens and dogs."

"My father rarely stayed home at night anymore, and even when he did, he slept soundly
. I could no longer hear the sounds of him and my mother making love." I would fall asleep, and when I woke up the next day, I would see her eyes swollen. Sometimes, I could hear my mother's soft, rapid breathing and groans
, like mice scurrying about on the other side of the kang (a heated brick bed). I had an urge to crawl across that short distance to her side,
to hold her, and comfort her. This urge felt like a fire burning within me, and every night I had to fight against it. "

My mother and I were plunged into immense suffering. After my father gambled away money, he used my mother as a punching bag. He would often find
some trivial matter to beat her when he was drunk, beating her as if she weren't his wife of over ten years, but
a sworn enemy with whom he had a deep-seated hatred. Shoes, cleaning rods, shovel handles... he would grab whatever he could find, often
beating my mother half to death. After the beating, my mother still had to cook for him, and if there was no wine during the meal, she would be beaten
again."

"Although I was strong and healthy, I was only fifteen years old, and my father had been a boatman for twenty years. I still couldn't stop
his fists. I could only watch helplessly as my mother suffered. Her screams when she was beaten were like knives tearing at my heart and lungs. I
hated myself for not being stronger so I could protect her."

"That day, I went out to borrow some rice to cook. When I came back, I saw my mother lying on the kang (a heated brick bed) groaning, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth,
tears streaming down her face from the pain. She had obviously been beaten by my father. I quickly put down the rice, climbed onto the kang, and went to my mother's side. Just as I was about to say something,
my mother grabbed my hand tightly. She was in excruciating pain and wanted to hold onto something
to ease the psychological pain. Perhaps she was unconscious, but for me, the moment our hands touched
felt like being struck by lightning."

“My hand trembled, and Mother groaned, ‘Let Mother hold your hand for a while.’ Suddenly,
the woman saw me as her support, and a sense of pride and responsibility welled up within me. I held Mother
’s hands with both of mine, as if I were cradling her entire body in my palms, protecting her tightly with both hands.
The the safer she felt.”

“It wasn’t until dark that Mother recovered and released my hands, saying with difficulty, ‘Baby, boil some
water for Mother to apply to my body. My body aches so much.’”

“I responded and soon boiled a pot of water, poured it into a wooden basin, and placed it
on the stove in front of the kang (a heated brick bed). Mother told me to turn my face away and took off her clothes, leaving her only in a red undergarment. When I turned around, I saw
Mother’s almost naked body and her real, full breasts and buttocks, and I was stunned for a moment. When Mother saw me staring at her, she
seemed to realize something, blushed, and quickly lay down on the kang, telling me to quickly apply a hot towel to her body.”

"I wet a towel, wrung it out, and placed it on the dark bruises on my mother's body. My hand accidentally touched her
armpit near her breast, and she shuddered, her legs rubbing together slightly."

"I noticed this reaction. When I changed the towel, it got cold, and I deliberately touched that
spot again. She shuddered again. There were no marks there, so it couldn't be pain. The only possibility was that her
body, after a long period of arousal, had become unusually sensitive. This discovery filled me with a strange excitement..."
Three times I changed the towels, I used the excuse of applying the compress to my wounds to boldly untie the straps of my mother's undergarment at the back. My mother
tilted her head, as if she wanted to say something, but ultimately remained silent. "

My mother's back was completely exposed in front of me. The smoothness of her skin and the stimulation of the opposite sex made my
heart pound and my chest tingle. My mother's body also warmed up under my hands, not just
because of the hot towel. I suppressed the urge to do something further, finished applying the hot towel to my mother's wounds,
tied the undergarment, cleaned her up, and then blew out the lamp and went to sleep. That night, neither my mother nor I slept well.
Soft, long sighs could be heard from my mother from time to time."

"I don't know if my mother sensed my feelings, but since that day, she often asked me to apply hot compresses to her, and the time became longer and longer. From her back, to her arms, to her thighs. Although my mother was still being beaten, she no longer cried
as much as before ." 　　"My father's drinking and gambling addiction grew worse. Sometimes he could win some money, but more often he lost." To pay off gambling and drinking debts, Dad sold almost everything in the house. By March of that year, the family was destitute. The Yellow River had thawed, but Dad showed no interest in going out to row boats to earn money, nor did he help me plow the fields to prepare for spring planting. He continued to struggle with gambling and drinking. " 　　That night, I returned from the fields and heard Mom crying as soon as I entered the yard. I knew something was wrong, so I put down my hoe and rushed into the house. I saw Dad carrying a bag of cornmeal on his shoulder, about to leave, while Mom held him back tightly, crying , 'If you sell the grain, what will we eat, brother!'" 　　"Hearing 'brother,' Dad's body trembled, and countless memories flooded his mind. He stopped in his tracks. I seized the opportunity to snatch the cornmeal from him, put it back, and stood beside Mom." Father's facial muscles twitched, a thousand expressions flashing across his face in an instant. I stared at his face: dark and thin, tired, old, wrinkled, with a stubble beard and sunken eyes . Suddenly, I felt a great distance between myself and this person, as if this wasn't my father, but a complete stranger. " 　　Father stood there for a while, then suddenly stamped his foot, let out a heavy sigh, rushed to the kang (heated brick bed), grabbed the only remaining quilt, rolled it up, and said, 'Father, if you sell the quilt, how will my mother and I sleep tonight?'" 　　"Father glared at me and said, 'It's not the dead of winter, what do you need a quilt for? Get out of the way!' " “ 　　I panicked and said, ‘Dad, stop gambling! Let’s live a good life. You row the boat, I’ll farm, and we’ll take good care Mom. Our family is already in such a state; if you keep gambling, we’ll all starve.’” 　　“Dad got even angrier and roared, ‘You jinx! You’re always getting in my way! If I can’t win, I’ll beat !’ He charged towards the door, and I grabbed his arm to pull him back. Dad punched me in the face. I felt dizzy, and my pent-up anger exploded. I kicked Dad in the stomach , and he stumbled, almost falling. He threw down his blanket and lunged at me, tearing at me.” 　　“Mom screamed and rushed between us to separate us. But a woman’s strength was no match for two men who were fighting like madmen.” As a result of her actions, in the chaos, her father punched her in the chin, and she collapsed to the ground without uttering a sound. " 　　I was startled and let go of my father to check on my mother's injuries. My father seized the opportunity to kick me in the back, knocking me down next to my mother, then grabbed the quilt from the floor and ran out of the house." 　　"I didn't have time to chase after my father. Enduring the pain, I carried my mother to the kang (heated brick bed), gave her a bowl of hot water, and pinched her philtrum . My father snatched the quilt away, so I had to cover her with a tattered piece of clothing. After a while, my mother let out a soft 'hmm,' exhaled, stirred, and opened her eyes. I lifted her head, put the broken porcelain bowl to her lips , and let her drink." 　　"My mother shook her head, pushed the bowl away, blew out the oil lamp, and in the darkness said, 'Sleep.'" 　　"I lay on the cold kang, the tattered mat without a mattress mercilessly absorbing every bit of warmth from my body." I remembered that cotton quilt, it smelled musty and musty, not because my mother was too lazy to wash it, but because it couldn't be washed at all; it would inevitably fall apart if it got wet. Though old and musty, it was still a cotton quilt. " 　　In the middle of a cold spring night, I covered myself with all my clothes, huddled together, shivering in the cold wind seeping in from all sides of the dilapidated house. I fell asleep several times, only to wake up freezing. I could even hear my teeth chattering ." 　　"It wasn't just my teeth chattering in the room; I clearly heard it coming from the other end of the kang (heated brick bed). My mother was cold too, and couldn't sleep either. Amidst the chattering, it was just because of the cold. My mother's cries were like cat claws tearing at my heart, making me so agitated I wanted to tear my chest apart." I didn't want to hear my mother cry anymore, because it would truly break my heart. I threw off my clothes and crawled into the darkness on the other side of the kang (heated brick bed). " 　　Baowa, aren't you asleep?" My mother stopped crying when she heard the noise. 　　"Mother, are you cold?" I answered irrelevantly. 　　"Mother isn't cold, you should go to sleep, you have to go to the fields tomorrow." 　　"Mother, let me move closer to you, I'm afraid you'll catch a cold. I'm young and strong, we won't be cold if we squeeze together ." As I spoke, I had already crawled halfway across the kang, placed my pillow next to my mother's, and lay down. A warm, feminine fragrance wafted towards me. My mother moved closer, stopped sobbing, and covered me with several more layers of clothing. Her body heat seeped through the clothes and warmed me instantly. This warmth stirred my sleepiness, and before I knew it, I drifted off to sleep. " 　　After what seemed like an eternity, I felt something wriggling in my arms. I was startled awake; opening my eyes, I was still surrounded by darkness. The feeling in my arms grew ever more real. A soft, warm body was nestled against me, tightening its embrace!" 　　"I suddenly realized I was on my own kang (heated brick bed), and that body must be my mother! I could tell she had covered me with all her clothes, while she herself was freezing, cold and sleepy, her consciousness fading..."

Feeling the warmth of a living person beside me, I instinctively moved closer, seeking warmth, completely forgetting that this was
her son. "

My heart skipped a beat, and countless thoughts raced through my mind. Should I warn her? If so,
this soft, warm body would slip from my arms. No, absolutely not. What I should do is hold her tighter.
I stretched out an arm, pulling my mother even closer. But to my surprise,
she stretched out an arm and hugged me back!"

"Like a stone thrown into still water, my defenses crumbled instantly. My mother breathed softly in my arms
, her body wriggling against me like a warm, fragrant jade. 'Brother, brother,' she murmured dreamily.
I knew she mistook me for my father. I almost gave in, almost going along with it, and had
sex . But deep down, a sliver of reason seemed to be telling me I couldn't do it." "

It shouted at me: 'If you did this with your mother as your father, she will
definitely . The only way to make her not regret it is to make her realize that she was doing this with you
! Because if she does this with you when she is sober, it means that she truly loves you, her own son, as a
man!' Yes, I am also a man. Why should I use another man's name to make the woman I
like happy?"

"I made up my mind and pushed my mother in my arms: 'Mother, Mother, wake up, it's me, Baowa. Mother,
wake up.' My mother seemed to be delirious. I pushed her for a long time before she gradually came to her senses. She suddenly realized
that she was holding her son tightly on the kang (a heated brick bed). My mother trembled and reached out to push me away. But my
arms held her tighter and tighter. Her warm and full body made my blood flow faster. I was no longer aware of the cold
. My lower body quickly became erect because of the tightness between our bodies and pressed hard against her lower abdomen." "

Mother panicked and tried to push away my arm that was holding her, saying, 'Baby
, let go of Mother.'"

"I pushed her hand away, brought my head close to her ear, tried to even out my breathing, and said in a trembling voice,
'Mother, it's cold. Holding you will keep you warm.'"

"Mother gasped and said, 'I'm not cold, let go.'"

"I said, 'Mother, you're cold, I know you're cold. Father isn't here, you want someone to hold you to keep you
warm .' As I spoke, I slipped a hand under her clothes."

"Mother suddenly struggled and cried out, 'Child, I'm your mother!'"

"'My father is your brother.' I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, but it was too late. Mother trembled and
stopped struggling, and I stopped moving too. An unbearable, deathly silence fell over the room."

"After a long while, Mother broke the silence, asking in a trembling voice, 'Who...who...who told
you this?'" “

It’s you,” I said. “Mother, I overheard what you and Father were saying in the middle of the night.”

Mother fell silent again. I said, “Mother, I know you want a man to hold you, to touch you…”

“Nonsense!” Mother interrupted me, about to say something more, but I spoke first: “Mother, stop
lying to yourself. If you didn’t want someone to hold you, would you secretly sigh in the middle of the night? Do you think I don’t know why you always
ask me to give you hot compresses?”

Mother was speechless for a moment, probably realizing I had hit the nail on the head. I continued: “Mother, I am your son, but you
’ve already married your own brother. Are you afraid of doing it again? Father has become like that; he beats and scolds you,
he doesn’t treat you like his own wife anymore. He’s not the brother you were twenty years ago. Now, your son wants to cherish
you, wants to love you, can’t you see that? What’s the difference between being with your own brother and being with your own son?
Mother, I don’t want to be your son, I want to be your man. I know you want that too.” "Saying this, I mustered my courage and
leaned in to kiss her on the cheek."

"To my surprise, Mother didn't resist. I continued, 'Mother, didn't you say Father's health
isn't good ? You can't suffer like this all by yourself. You're not afraid anymore, and I can help Father share some of the burden.
Mother, are you just lying to yourself? You've clearly wanted it for a long time, haven't you?'"

"Mother didn't speak, but began to sob softly again. I didn't dare to make any further moves, and just held
Mother like that, but Mother didn't try to pull away from my arms."

"We held each other like that for a while, and suddenly a strong wind blew in from outside, and the room became chilly. Mother's
body moved, and I immediately felt her moving towards me. I was stunned, and then I heard Mother say from inside my arms, '
Baby, Mother is cold. Mother and baby will be warmer together.'"

"It took me a few seconds to understand what she meant. A surge of joy suddenly welled up in my heart,
and I was at a loss for what to do. " Mother began to breathe heavily, her body growing hot in my arms. "

In the darkness, instinctively, I found Mother's mouth without fail. I held her head, my lips
trembling as I pressed them against hers; her breath smelled so sweet. My lips first touched her nose, then moved
downwards, finding her mouth. Our four moist lips met, instantly sealing together. Mother's tongue, like
a little snake , slipped between her teeth, entwining mine, swirling in her mouth, saliva
flowing down my throat."

"I rolled over, pinning Mother beneath me, one hand groping to unbutton her clothes. My fingers moved, and her cotton-padded jacket opened
, her undergarment opened, her undershirt opened, leaving only her bodice. Mother took it off herself and
tossed ." "

I lay on my mother's chest, greedily inhaling her scent, one in each hand, grasping her large, white
breasts , sucking on her nipples—soft, tender—wanting to bite them off completely and chew them. I
actually opened my mouth and started nibbling at her breasts, drool flowing down her chest, and my mother moaned softly."

"I got up, took off my shirt, revealing my strong muscles, and lay on top of my mother. Our
flesh trembled at the touch, pressed together, as if we wanted to melt into each other. Soft against hard, smooth
against rough, strong against gentle."

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[The Soul Lost on the Yellow River] (Incest on the Boat)

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