"I Became the Matchmaker Between My Father and Wife" - (77) Cleaning

Foreword: The cliffhanger left at the end of the last chapter has garnered many replies and suggestions from everyone. Some guessed a third marriage, others a heart-to-heart talk and a pact between the two, and still others that Xiaoying would confront her father. While these suggestions are all good, they don't align with my thoughts and the overall outline of my story. So thank you all for your interaction. Actually, the answer is quite simple; please read on…
Is it going to be a third time? I don't know why, but this thought suddenly popped into my head. Is it because my heart is hoping for it? Or am I worried about what's going to happen next?
The father, who was lost in thought with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them when he heard Xiaoying walk out of the bathroom. At that moment, he probably realized he had unintentionally made a grave mistake; every move Xiaoying made tugged at his heartstrings. Perhaps it was the sound of Xiaoying's footsteps getting closer to his room, but his breathing became increasingly rapid. Excitement, fear, confusion, and bewilderment—a complex mix of emotions was displayed on his face, each one constantly shifting across his expression.
At this moment, the father's eyes widened, perhaps he was praying that Xiaoying was only going to the kitchen or the back balcony, and not to his room, because he couldn't be sure what Xiaoying's feelings and mindset were towards him. But ideals are beautiful, reality is cruel. With a "click," the door to the father's bedroom opened. Without needing to guess who it was, the father didn't have the courage to look at the doorway. He hurriedly pulled the blanket over his head, wrapping himself tightly, not revealing a single part of his body.
Xiaoying's movements from the bathroom to her father's bedroom were decisive and swift, without the slightest hesitation or hesitation. She seemed like a mindless puppet, her actions driven by instinct. Upon entering her father's room, she didn't glance at him on the bed, but instead searched the room. Finally, she found her nightgown and underwear on the floor, and then her bra, which her father had forcibly removed using "despicable" methods, at the foot of the bed.
Xiaoying slowly and purposefully picked up the three pieces of clothing, without panic or shyness; everything she did was so composed and natural. Meanwhile, her father, oblivious to what was happening, remained tightly wrapped in the blankets, his body trembling violently. One could imagine the extent of his fear; he was perhaps awaiting the "storm" that was about to break.
Seeing Xiaoying's actions, I suddenly felt a sense of relief for some reason. It turned out Xiaoying had come back to retrieve her underwear and nightgown (did anyone guess correctly? Xiaoying went back to her father's room just to get her nightgown and underwear; those with dirty minds, go run naked outside ten times!). A feeling of relief flashed through my mind. Perhaps having passed the passionate moment between Xiaoying and her father, my desire for the night had reached its limit, and I secretly hoped that my father and Xiaoying wouldn't have any further contact tonight.
After finding her nightgown and underwear, Xiaoying didn't leave her father's room immediately. Instead, she slowly put them on, her body—a body that any woman would envy and any man would be captivated by—gradually becoming covered by the clothes. Seeing this, I was a little puzzled. Why didn't Xiaoying go back to her own bedroom to get dressed? Did she have something else to do in her father's bedroom?
After putting on her underwear and nightgown, Xiaoying returned to her usual attire at home. However, Xiaoying was vastly different from before. Previously, her body belonged to only one man, but just now, the second man in her life had completely possessed her. Xiaoying still didn't glance at her father on the bed, as if he didn't exist. She reached for toilet paper and wet wipes on the bedside table. Hearing the sound of Xiaoying taking things from the bedside table, her father, wrapped in the blanket, suddenly trembled violently. Perhaps every move Xiaoying made was tugging at his heartstrings.
After picking up toilet paper and wet wipes, Xiaoying squatted down and began wiping the floor with them. It was then that I remembered that after Xiaoying and her father finished their first time, she had suddenly fallen to the floor while getting out of bed, leaving traces of semen on the floor. That semen was from when her father ejaculated inside her; when she was curled up on the floor, there was a lot of semen that had flowed from her vagina.
Xiaoying slowly wiped away the dried semen stains, wiping them slowly and carefully. Was she trying to erase all traces? Logically speaking, since the passion between the two had subsided, I shouldn't be interested in these aftercare details. However, at this moment, I didn't want to give up on any details after the event. I felt both anticipation and worry.
After wiping herself, Xiaoying didn't throw the toilet paper into the toilet. Instead, she held all the used toilet paper in her hand. After finishing this, Xiaoying's gaze fell on the foot of her father's bed, where there was a white stain of semen. It was from their first time having sex, when her father ejaculated inside her. Afterward, Xiaoying lay on her father's bed for a long time, and the semen flowed out, leaving a large stain at the foot of her father's bed.
Xiaoying stared blankly at the semen stain, then slowly turned her gaze to her father. He was still wrapped in the blanket, trembling slightly. Every second Xiaoying spent in her father's room was torture for him. Looking at her father wrapped in the blanket, Xiaoying's eyes held resentment, inner turmoil, struggle, and a hint of infatuation. She slowly moved her head closer to the blanket, then closer to his head inside. Throughout this process, Xiaoying showed no shyness; her movements were fluid and natural.
"Wash your sheets before Jincheng returns tomorrow." A short, succinct sentence, nothing more, her tone cold and concise. Xiaoying said this to her father, then, still in her nightgown, carrying a tissue stained with semen, opened the door and left. Even after the door closed again, her father didn't have the courage to pull back the covers and face Xiaoying.
Hearing Xiaoying open the bedroom door and enter our bridal chamber, my father shakily pulled back the covers and peeked out. He gasped for breath, his face covered in sweat, whether from being suffocated under the covers or from nervousness at Xiaoying's arrival, I couldn't tell. In any case, he looked utterly disheveled. He sat up and stared blankly at the white stain at the foot of the bed, like a pure white lily…
After Xiaoying returned to the room, she began wiping the semen stains on our bed sheets with toilet paper. Then she searched for traces on the floor of our bedroom, and then went to the living room to carefully clean up the love fluids that had been spilled as the two of them danced a "waltz" on their way from the bathroom to the bridal chamber. Xiaoying cleaned up very carefully.
Seeing Xiaoying's actions, I felt a surge of joy. Just now, seeing Xiaoying's dazed look, I thought her mental state had collapsed. But I didn't expect that although Xiaoying's mental state was affected at this moment, all her actions were still very rational. At least she knew how to clean up the traces left by the two of them so that I, her husband, would not find any clues. Seeing this, should I be happy or heartbroken?
After wiping, Xiaoying gathered all the used toilet paper and wet wipes together and put them in a black plastic bag. She then placed the garbage bag by the door. After completing this, Xiaoying returned to the bridal chamber, removed all the sheets and duvet covers that had just been "contaminated" by her father's semen, and then took the sheets and duvet covers—which had been changed less than three days ago—to the bathroom and threw them into the washing machine.
As the washing machine ran, the traces left by Xiaoying and her father were gradually washed away. In the entire room, the only places where traces of their sexual intercourse remained were two: one was the bed sheet at the foot of her father's bed, and the other was the semen and vaginal fluid that had not yet been wiped off her father's penis.
If her father hadn't been lying in bed shivering, would Xiaoying have washed his sheets and blankets along with the covers? I don't know why, but this thought suddenly came to mind. Normally, Xiaoying could have easily washed her father's sheets and blankets. The reason she didn't might be that she didn't want to see him or face him. The only thing she said to him was to let him remove the traces himself and not let me know. From this, it seems that Xiaoying won't forgive her father so easily; at least for now, she doesn't want to see him again.
Amidst the roar of the laundry machine, Xiaoying began changing the sheets and duvet cover in her bedroom. The sheets and duvet cover, which had just been soiled by her father, were pink and were now being washed at high speed in the laundry tub. The new sheets and duvet cover, whether by coincidence or design, were the same color as the hat I was wearing—a vibrant green.
Seeing these green sheets and duvet cover is a huge irony. I wonder if I'll be able to lie down and sleep peacefully on them when I get home tomorrow night. Xiaoying methodically cleaned up the evidence, remaining quiet and still without shedding a tear. Watching her busy at work, I was filled with worry and deep thought. What will happen between Xiaoying and her father tomorrow? What will I face when I get home? Will anything unexpected happen?
After seeing the scene I most wanted to see, I found myself in distress, wondering if I was reaping what I sowed...

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"I Became the Matchmaker Between My Father and Wife" - (77) Cleaning

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