[My Mother-in-Law is Like a Flower] (11-20)

(11)
After the climax subsided, she turned around, her back facing me.
I relived the fierce battle we had just fought, and suddenly felt her twitching.
I slowly slipped my arm under her long hair, between her shoulder and head, and cupped her breast
, kissing her hair.
She trembled even more.
I kissed her shoulder, touched her buttocks, and turned her around. I saw her eyes glistening with
tears.
I whispered, "I shouldn't have said that. Actually, that's not what I meant. What I wanted to say was..."
She interrupted me, choking back sobs, "You're not wrong, I'm the one who's wrong. I shouldn't have agreed to marry
you. Everything I've done in my life has been wrong."
I said, "Don't say that. It wasn't easy for us to be together."
She whispered, "I know we won't have a good ending."
I said nothing more. Words are always inadequate. Love is always futile. No matter how much you give, it's all in vain.
She raised her eyelids and asked me, "Why is my life so miserable? Why?"
Her life was indeed miserable. Her husband died of a heart attack without any warning. Ru Hua cried her heart out and fell
seriously ill.
I advised her not to cry and to cheer up. I presided over the funeral and took care of all aspects.
Seven days later, Ru Hua was still not well when Xiao Tong's colleague suddenly called to say that Xiao Tong had fainted and asked us
to go to the emergency center.
Ru Hua and I quickly grabbed the money, keys, and coats. Just as we were about to leave, the phone rang again. When we answered
, it was Xiao Tong's colleague again, who said that the ambulance had arrived and announced that the person had died.
The autopsy report came out, and the cause of death was still a heart attack.
Ru Hua lay in bed for a month and a half, half-dead and disheartened. I took care of her eating, drinking, and toileting. I comforted
her and told her everything I could think of.
When she finally managed to get out of bed, I noticed that most of her hair had turned white.
(12)
In bed, we could completely satisfy each other's needs. I think a relationship between an older woman and a younger man is the most reasonable.
Women are like wolves in their thirties and tigers in their forties, the years when they need a big, hard cock the most. How
inhumane it is for a husband to be in the hospital with tubes inserted!
The taboo word in our bed is not just "old".
Once, when we were having sex, I said, "Say 'Daddy fuck me'!"
She suddenly frowned and said that I was not allowed to make that joke again.
I asked, "Why?"
She said, "I don't want to say it."
I said, "We're like this, what can't we say?"
She said, "I will tell you when I want to. Don't force me now."
I realized that something was going to happen.
Later, no matter how intense our sex was or how foul our words were, I never mentioned "Daddy game" again.
(13)
I took off her embroidered shoes and her socks and saw her bare feet.
I love to look at her feet. I can never get enough of looking at them. Her feet are smooth and pleasing to the eye.
Her toes are plump and full, wriggling slightly. The calluses below her big toe were smooth.
Her heels were firm and slightly cool. Her toenails were neatly trimmed and smooth, never painted, the
kind of bare feet I liked.
The faint veins on the instep carried type B blood.
I held her bare feet and couldn't resist sniffing them. The slightly sweaty, sour smell. That scent was
pure bliss to me, sweet and delightful.
She gently pulled her legs back, trying to escape my clutches. But my grip was tight. Her bare feet didn't get away.
She asked, "You pervert, what are you doing?"
Instinctively, I kissed her delicate, pink soles.
She whispered, "They're not washed. They smell."
I gripped her bare feet tightly, insistently saying, "That's what I want—unwashed, that's what I play with—they smell."
Suddenly, I noticed a bloodstain on the sole of her foot. At first glance, I thought she had stepped on a mosquito. But upon closer inspection, it turned out
to be a mole on the sole, vermilion in color.
This, this, this is quite cute, it made her look five years younger.
Later, I heard from someone in a white coat that moles, warts, and the like could all become cancerous.
I advised her to have laser surgery instead. She refused, saying she was afraid of the pain, the infection, and the trouble.
After I advised her too much, she got annoyed: "What do you mean? You dislike me?"
I was extremely innocent and replied, "I didn't dislike you. Why are you talking about this?"
She looked down and muttered to herself, lost in her own logic, "Sigh, I knew this
day would come sooner or later!"
(14)
The buttocks in front of me were quite round, with white skin, no red spots, no bumps, and no pigmentation.
I lifted her buttocks and spread her thighs apart. I forcefully spread her buttocks apart and looked at her anus.
Her anus was clean, flat, and tightly closed, without hemorrhoids.
A dozen or so folds radiated outwards from the center of her anus.
I was seized by a sudden impulse and actually stuck out my tongue to lick her anus.
My heart was pounding. It was the first time I'd ever licked an anus.
She groaned, her buttocks collapsing, lying flat on the bed.
I lifted her buttocks again, grabbed her hands, and commanded her, "Spread your hands."
She obediently spread her anus, letting me lick it.
My tongue began its rampage.
She whispered, "No..."
I asked, "No what?"
She whispered, "Well, I meant, you'll get diarrhea if you do this."
I said, "You're very experienced. Have you ever licked one? Or been licked?"
She softly said, "Don't ask, it's not good anyway."
I like everything "not good." How weird. I hugged her fleshy buttocks, stuck out my tongue, and pushed the tip of my tongue
deeper into her rectum.
She groaned. I was excited. In this game, who was more proactive? Who was more humiliated? Who was playing whom? Who was dominating
whom?
It doesn't seem necessary to be so clear-cut, does it? She was comfortable, I was comfortable, that's all. What's the humiliation? Have a good time
.
In an old work, I asked through a character, "Who loves whom more?" Now I'm tired of it and too lazy to think
about it. I'm too lazy to delve into this kind of question, too lazy to even buy soy sauce. Maybe that's sad.
Maybe many people who are currently in the spotlight will eventually go through this stage? Damn, who knows?
(15)
I gently licked her anus. I got close to her anus and could smell that kind of smell, faint.
What smell? You've licked it before, you should know. If you haven't, it's pointless for me to say. Anyway, that's the smell.
What shocked me was that I was sticking out my tongue and licking a woman's anus.
What shocked me even more was that I didn't feel humiliated or find the smell unpleasant.
Later, I went shopping with her and we went to Xianyu Kou. We were hungry, so we went into a small shop to eat steamed buns and fried liver.
She put down her spoon immediately after taking a bite of the fried liver. As a result, I ate both bowls. She complained that the large intestine wasn't cleaned
properly and had a smell.
I ate it in big mouthfuls. It smells so good! [Damn, my stomach is rumbling. Writing this in the middle of the night is so sinful...]
I love fried liver. And the ones I choose are always those small state-owned shops where the shopkeeper is arrogant and doesn't care about me. It
's not that I don't have money. The key is that I just like it.
If it's washed too clean and loses its flavor, what's the point of chewing it? I want that shit-like smell!
Saying it out loud, I suddenly realized, damn, I'm really quite perverted? The problem is, many people think
it's "perverted", but I don't think it's anything special.
(16)
That day I boiled a few eggs, took one, peeled it and put it in her vagina. I took a corn sausage, tore off the
plastic wrapping, and pushed it deep into her anus.
I didn't allow her to wear underwear and took her out the door. She walked noticeably slower than usual.
I deliberately didn't drive and took her off the subway.
I said, "It's too difficult to drive in the city center, and parking is inconvenient."
Actually, I wanted to relive that kind of excitement.
She asked me, "Hey, you rascal, where are we going?"
I said, "Taking you to buy clothes."
No woman dislikes buying clothes.
On the way, I whispered in her ear, "Wearing a butterfly pendant to a disco."
She whispered, "I can't hold it anymore! It's about to fall off."
I said, "Then let it fall out. If it falls out, everyone will know you're a slut."
She tried her best to hold it in, walking slower and slower.
We entered the subway. I gripped the handrail. Her soft body pressed against me, her arms wrapped around mine.
She was uncomfortable inside, shifting her weight between her left and right feet, occasionally wiggling her hips
.
Next to us was a man in his early twenties, holding a copy of the *Beijing Times*, glancing at the "Ru Hua" (a character from a popular Chinese TV drama) for a while, then looking
down at the newspaper.
After Xidan station, I pulled her away from the young man, sidling up to the side of the carriage where the doors weren't open, leaning against the door.
I took out a package of Tiantianjie (a brand of baby wipes), tore it open, pulled out the wipes, and slowly wiped my hands.
Before I ever do anything naughty outdoors, I always disinfect my fingers with a wet wipe. Caring for a woman
starts with your hands.
She saw me wiping my hands and immediately looked up at me, her eyes bulging with nervousness.
After cleaning each finger, I ran my right hand behind her back, secretly slipping it under her skirt to rub her buttocks.
Soft and fleshy. Feels good. I gently tickled her vulva with my fingertips. She shuddered.
I whispered in her ear, "Pull the egg out. Don't let it come out from behind!"
My voice was just loud enough for her to hear, but loud enough to be drowned out by the rumbling subway noise from six centimeters away.
She blushed and whispered in my ear, "How can you be so lewd?"
I said, "Hurry up. Stop talking nonsense."
She started to exert force subtly.
I bent my right hand into a large spoon and cupped her vulva, while simultaneously glancing at the young man. That shifty-eyed guy, staring intently at
my woman.
I cursed that bastard. (Here, "照" means "to commit a crime," a Beijing slang term for hooligans and thugs who cause trouble, referring
to strangers staring at each other maliciously beyond the polite time limit.)
I whispered to Ruhua, "I'm not sure I can catch it."
She became even more nervous. I tilted my head and whispered in her ear, "There's a young man staring at you."
She said, "Nonsense. Where?"
I said, "Over there, the one sitting next to that pregnant woman with the newspaper."
She looked in the direction I indicated. Sure enough, that bastard was staring at her.
Her face turned even redder.
I said, "He noticed. Hurry up."
She stared blankly at the young man and started breathing heavily. I felt her labia minora twitch slightly with my right hand.
I said, "We're almost at the station. Hurry up."
She continued to push, but the egg still didn't come out.
The subway roared into the station, stopped, and opened its doors. More people poured in.
Suddenly, my palm felt a drop and a warmth. The egg slipped into my hand amidst the chaos, slippery and soft. Sure enough, she was an obedient
woman; the corn sausage didn't come out.
I took my hand up, holding the clean white egg. The young man stared wide-eyed. I put the egg
under my nose and smelled it.
(17)
Why does this scene seem so familiar? Where have I seen it before? I've definitely seen it before.
Where?
Hmm, I remember now!
Thirteen years ago, I was on a train to Hengyang alone. Outside the glass window, the trees and fields were rushing past.
I went to the connecting area between the carriages to smoke and saw a couple leaning against the train door.
The woman was looking up and kissing the man, her face flushed. The man was in the same position as me now, and he was even taking
pictures with me.
He was so slutty, so slutty, his eyes clearly saying, "I've taken this sheep pen, you can find another one."
I was in my best shape back then, and I was at my most reckless. Damn, which carriage is yours? This is mine
!
I took out a cigarette while taking pictures of him, lit it, and took a nice drag.
I took out a shovel from my lower back and started playing with the aluminum frame of the train window. (攮子 = dagger, 攮 = stab with a knife.)
I easily shaved off the aluminum edge, leaving a small, curved strip.
(You've all sharpened pencils before, right?)
The man was very unhappy, but helpless, and looked away.
(18)
After we got off the subway, we went shopping for clothes. Suddenly, she leaned close to my ear and said, "I can still have children. Let's have a baby
."
I said, "Okay."
She smiled and said, "How about I give you a big, healthy boy?"
I thought for a moment and said, "Hmm, to be honest, I really want a daughter."
She was immersed in maternal passion and went along with me, saying, "Okay, then I'll give you a daughter."
I said, "What are you talking about? You can just point and do whatever you want."
She said, "I can. Trust me. My family has a girl gene. You see, my mom is an only child. I'm an only
child too. And then I had a baby, had a baby..."
She suddenly choked up and couldn't continue.
I hugged her and smelled the womanly scent emanating from her hair.
I could feel her trembling in my arms.
I comforted her, saying, "Okay, okay, let's not talk about the past."
She whispered, "I want to give you a daughter. I want to make you happy."
She stood on tiptoe in the mall and kissed my cheek. Her lips were very delicate and soft, trembling slightly.
(19)
After we got home, she brought up having a child for me again.
I said, "Actually, it's just the two of us. It's good enough. I don't want our lives to be disturbed by others
."
She said, "You're still young, so that's why you think that way. Let me tell you, if you don't have a child, you'll regret it when you're old
. I don't want you to have any regrets in your life. Let me have one for you, okay?"
I said, "I don't want you to suffer anymore."
She calmly said, "No suffering. Thinking back, from pregnancy to birth, breastfeeding, bathing, coaxing to sleep,
creating a new life, breathing, having feelings, looking at you with bright, dark eyes, growing up day by day,
becoming sensible, it's actually quite blissful."
I was a little surprised: "Huh? Carrying forty or fifty pounds around, isn't it uncomfortable?"
She said, "Yes, during that period..." "Of course, pregnancy isn't easy, but after you get pregnant, you find everyone around you
is considerate. People give you space in the elevator, press the buttons for you, the young men at the hair salon are especially attentive, serving you
tea and water. You receive special care, and you can proudly announce to the world with your big belly, 'I'm capable!
My man is capable!' That feeling is quite proud, really."
I asked, "Then, is breastfeeding uncomfortable? Breast engorgement, being sucked, being bitten, your nipples being chewed..."
She said, "Oh, it's also quite comfortable. It's pointless to say anything. That kind of heartwarming happiness, you men
will never understand."
I said, "But childbirth is a life-or-death ordeal."
She whispered, "But childbirth is fulfilling."
I understood. After all, she had it, and then lost it. She probably wanted to add color to her life. For me, and for herself
.
But, losing Xiaotong, both Ruhua and I have already experienced heartbreak.
I said, "I don't want to be sad anymore."
She suddenly said, "I've made up my mind."
Since the incident at home, her temper has changed, and sometimes she feels like a stranger to me, as if she has been possessed.
(20)
Before Chou Chou was born, I discussed the baby's nickname with Ru Hua.
She said, "I'm so good-looking, and you have such thick eyebrows and big eyes, so the baby we have will definitely have the best of both of us
."
I said, "Yes. Yes."
She said, "And I'm 1.7 meters tall and you're 1.87 meters tall, so our baby won't be short!"
I said, "Hmm, that's right. How about this, whether it's a boy or a girl, the nickname will be Chou Chou."
She strongly objected. I said that an ugly name means a tough life, and it's easy to raise a child.
When we get along, we're really good, inseparable, sweet and loving, but when we argue, we really argue and bicker.
We argued several more times afterward. When I was feeling particularly down, I wavered. I asked myself, "
Is this really the life I want?"
But I always comforted myself by saying, "This is the life I want. No woman is immune to hysteria. No
couple is without arguments."
Perhaps Ruhua and I were destined to be a pair of bickering lovers from a past life.
Maybe she was so insecure that she wanted to use our child as a bond to strengthen this already
unblessed family.
Later, she became pregnant as she wished. I accepted my fate.
It wasn't easy for us to come together. I will cherish it.

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