Incestuous Anecdotes

After my sister left on the sixteenth day of the first lunar month, the house returned to its usual state. I took care of the shop, and my father went to school every day. I would prepare breakfast and dinner in advance. I wouldn't dare call myself a master chef, but I've known everyone's tastes by heart since I was little, helping my mother cook. So, there's no dish that no one in the family dislikes.

For the next two months, I was busy day after day, but I would often think of Xiao Qi, wondering if he was doing well, if his grades were good, if his health was good, and even if I missed his penis... I think I'm a little obsessed. Originally, I just wanted to help him settle down and grow up without bitterness and pressure, but now I seem to be starting to miss the pleasure he gave me. I often regret that time when I didn't make him feel better, and I regret that night when I hid in the bedroom from him. In short, I think I'm a little obsessed.

I was 21 at the time, and looking back, it was really just desire at play. Aside from family and a half of friendship, I was still unclear about love. I had a crush in middle school, which ended without a trace, and afterwards I was always busy with trivial matters. I probably projected those feelings onto Xiao Qi. Also, when he was home, he bothered me every day, and I couldn't take it anymore. Now that he's gone, my body is starting to miss him. The body is honest; I've had many dreams of being intimate with him, but masturbation only brings me greater emptiness. My body can release, but my emotions aren't relieved.

However, Xiao Qi was in his final semester of high school, and he was studying like crazy. Every time my father came home, he would say something like, "The school is too strict." For my father to say that was enough to prove how hard Xiao Qi was working. By early

March, I really wanted to see him, so I decided to go see him myself this time. I had already discussed it with my father, and I was very happy. But my happiness lasted less than two hours. A minor car accident began the most difficult and helpless three months of my 38 years of life.

That was the night my father promised to let me see Xiaoqi. I was riding my electric scooter home when I was hit by another scooter driven by a drunk driver. The price I paid was a broken right leg. Ironically, when I fell, I didn't feel pain in my leg immediately; instead, I felt a pang of heartache for my scooter, which had been with me for three years.

Anyway, I couldn't stand up. After a lot of trouble getting to the hospital, I was diagnosed with a fractured right shinbone. The doctor spoke casually, saying that once it was set and in a cast, I'd be able to walk again in three months. My worried father and I breathed a sigh of relief. Although I was sweating profusely from the pain, I didn't cry. My father pressed his right hand on my shoulder; although he didn't say much, I felt reassured.

Next came the hospitalization issue. I'm a grown woman, and while my father could stay with me in bed, he couldn't take care of my daily needs. In the end, my aunt closed her shop for a few days and took care of me for a week. Then I could go home to recuperate.

This meant only my father was taking care of me at home. My aunt came every few days to wash my hair and bathe me, but my father took care of all my daily needs, from eating and drinking to using the toilet.

At first, everything was normal. He's my father, I'm his daughter, we're family, and it's only natural for him to take care of me. Looking back now, the first two months were really fine. He changed my bedpan at first, then carried me out of bed, and everything was normal. I was in pain every day, and painkillers weren't very effective, which made me quite depressed, let alone having any other thoughts. Even when my mother had cancer, my father never took such good care of me. Apart from occasional impatience, he didn't have any problems.

To be honest, at that time, my leg was in a cast, and I wore a knee-length nightgown at home. When my father carried me and helped me, he inevitably touched my breasts and waist. Sometimes he would see my bra and underwear, which was quite common, but we didn't think anything of it, and neither of us felt embarrassed. We were just like an ordinary father and daughter.

During that time, I was afraid of interfering with Xiao Qi's studies, so I asked my father not to tell him, just like my mother did when she didn't want to tell my older brother. I was really uncomfortable in bed for more than a month before I finally felt a little better.

The bone started to heal, and the wound was a little itchy, which made me feel like I was almost healed. I figured I should be fully recovered before Xiaoqi graduated, which would be great. Later, I could get rid of the wheelchair and walk around with crutches, and then with a single crutch. They said the cast on my leg would be removed next week, which made me very happy.

Then the silliest thing I ever did happened. My aunt was coming to wash my hair that day. I wouldn't call myself a germaphobe, but I need to wash my hair at least every three days, otherwise I can't sleep well; my scalp feels like it's exploding. In the summer, I wash it every day. But it seemed like her shop had been penalized or something; I didn't hear clearly. She just said she couldn't come, and it was uncertain if she could come tomorrow.

I couldn't blame my aunt; she's helped our family so much, especially me. She helped with opening the shop, choosing the location, and sourcing supplies, so I treat her like my own mother. But today was the third day, and I absolutely had to wash my hair. My father wouldn't be back from school until evening, and I thought that since I could walk around with a single crutch, washing my hair would be a piece of cake!

I won't go into the details of washing my hair, as I doubt anyone would want to hear about it. My method involved a lot of effort: I pulled a chair over the showerhead, adjusted the water temperature, and took off my nightgown, bra, and underwear. Thinking my father wouldn't be back until the afternoon and there wouldn't be many people around, I went inside, sat down, and used the showerhead to wash my hair and dry myself. It was a bit of a hassle, but I finally finished. It

was almost four o'clock when I finished, so I decided to get up and leave.

Sisters! Never use a cane in a wet bathroom! Especially a single cane!

Anyway, when I got up with my crutches, they slipped, and my fractured right foot, due to inertia, hit the ground. Then I heard a "crack," and I fell to the ground. My hand hurt when I braced myself, but my attention was entirely on my right leg. The sound seemed to indicate that my leg had broken again. Then the wound started to hurt, and the cast seemed to crack. I felt a sharp pain and fear. Had it broken again? The doctor had repeatedly warned me not to bump it, because even if it healed, it might leave lasting effects.

I was scared, really scared, scared of being disabled. But I didn't cry. I've never cried much as a child; I felt that suffering was useless. However, my mother told me that I cried a lot when I was little, but I don't remember it. I just sat there on the cold ground, afraid to move, both afraid of the pain and afraid of touching the wound again. I just sat there.

Although it felt like an eternity, it only took half an hour before my father returned. The moment I heard the door open, tears welled up and wouldn't stop. I felt so wronged. I cried out, "Dad!" He rushed in shortly after. I was sitting naked on the floor. Without hesitation, he reached over, scooped me up by my knees, slipped one arm under my arm, and carried me out.

He put me on the sofa, hurriedly went back to get a nightgown for me, then picked me up again and left. My tears flowed uncontrollably. My father was startled and kept asking me where it hurt. I felt pain in my wound, but it wasn't that bad. The tears just wouldn't stop. I buried my head in my father's chest and cried and cried.

At that moment, I just felt wronged, though I didn't know what it was. Maybe it was my destined mediocrity, maybe it was just bad luck, maybe it was because I felt insignificant, but I just couldn't stop the tears.

My father was also frightened and rushed me to the hospital. After examining me, the doctor scolded me, saying that not washing your hair for six months wouldn't kill you, and that luckily the fracture wasn't too severe, otherwise I would have been crippled. He also scolded my father. Anyway, the wound was re-treated. Strangely, even though the treatment was painful, I didn't cry. I just gritted my teeth and leaned into my father's arms. He patted my back and comforted me.

The cast was reapplied, and the removal of the cast was delayed for another half month. My father carried me out of the hospital, and I started crying again. He didn't know how to comfort me, so he just kept saying that I would get better, that the doctor said we just shouldn't fall again. The more he said that, the harder I cried, I don't know why. It

was already dark when we got home. I had been recovering in my own bed before, but this time the doctor advised that it would be better to lie on a large bed where I could stretch out completely, as that would be more comfortable.

So my father took me to his and my mother's room. Only their room had a double bed. He put me on the bed, covered me with a blanket, and asked me what I wanted to eat. I had been crying so hard that I wasn't hungry, so I just said I wanted to sleep. My father went out, but he didn't forget to turn on the light. He remembered that I had a habit of sleeping with the light on because I was afraid of the dark as a child, and it had become a habit. He remembered that.

I vaguely heard my father calling the principal to ask for leave, and I drifted off to sleep.

The next day, my father indeed didn't go to work. He slept in Xiao Qi and my older brother's room. He was bringing in breakfast he had bought from outside. My leg was injured, not my stomach, and I hadn't eaten last night, so my stomach was growling with hunger.

He propped up my leg with two pillows, but when I lifted my head, I groaned. The wound was painful with the slightest movement, so my father wouldn't let me put any more on it and started feeding me with a spoon.

I don't remember being too young, but my father has never fed me since I can remember. On the two occasions I was sick, my mother was with me. So, suddenly being fed by my father felt really strange. Before, my injured leg needed to be in a sling, but this time it wasn't necessary, though the pain hadn't lessened at all.

After the meal, I asked my father, "How's Auntie?" My father, tidying up, said, "The shop was fined, they're negotiating, and it looks like there might be a lawsuit."

My father thought I just wanted to ask about Auntie's situation, but actually, I wanted Auntie to come because I had my period. I wasn't wearing anything underneath!

I couldn't pretend nothing had happened; it would be too embarrassing to have bloodstains on the bed later. So I said,

"Dad, bring me the

sanitary pad from my bedside table." My father understood immediately and rushed to my bedroom to get the pad.

I was sweating bullets! You know what's going on, but you didn't even bring me underwear?

I could only whisper, "I have underwear."

I was still in bed when he suddenly remembered something and rushed out again. A moment later, he even brought over his bra.

Let me explain: my sister and I share a wardrobe. My clothes are organized in layers, but since my sister went to Beijing, I've basically been using it alone. I have five pairs of underwear and four different bras in the wardrobe. I don't know if my father was in a hurry or what, but he took the brightest red set of underwear. I bought it before I got injured, intending to wear it when I visited Xiao Qi. Now my father had taken it… I didn't know what to say. My father was about to leave, but I called out to him, "How am I supposed to put this on?"

I stuffed the red bra under my pillow. I didn't need a bra while wearing a nightgown, but I had to wear something underneath. I was already feeling a little anxious; it was the premonition of my period.

My father didn't quite understand what I was doing. I skillfully opened a sanitary pad, smeared it on my underwear with both hands, and then, without looking at him, handed it to him.

I couldn't speak; I couldn't very well say, "Dad, put my underwear on."

My father immediately understood, quickly reached out and took it, then stood there dumbfounded, holding the red underwear.

I knew he understood, but he was embarrassed. After all, I'm a young woman. He was willing to sacrifice everything to save me, but now he was putting me in a difficult position.

I couldn't wait any longer, so knowing he wanted an out, I said, "From the bottom."

Even if I was perfectly fine, I had to put it on from the bottom. I was just giving him an out, and he quickly went over and lifted the blanket up to my knees. Then he looked up at me, and I was so angry! He couldn't expect me to tell him how to put on my underwear,

could he? I rolled my eyes, and he didn't waste any more time. It was easy for my good leg, but my injured leg couldn't move, so it wasn't too difficult for him. He rolled up his underwear and then pulled it up between my injured leg and the mattress, all the way up to my knee. I cooperated by lifting my left leg, waiting for him to put it on for me. After a while, when I looked at him, he finally put it on. I put my left leg down, and the underwear was on my knee, but he stopped moving again.

My head was throbbing, but I didn't know what to say, so I just said, "Hurry up."

Only then did he start pulling up the sides of my underwear. He sat by my injured leg, not daring to get too close, and unable to pull back the blanket, so he bent down and pulled my underwear up from under the blanket. It was fine up to my thighs, but the bottom was a bit tricky.

I felt a little embarrassed as he put my underwear on, as it was quite private. I just kept my eyes closed, and his hands naturally touched my skin as he pulled it up. I didn't feel anything, just a little shy.

I couldn't lift my buttocks; I didn't dare put any force on my legs. But this time, he didn't need me to urge him. Since he had to put it on anyway, he pressed hard with both hands and pushed it through the gap between my buttocks and the mattress. I kept my eyes closed, but he finally managed to pull it up. I didn't need him to fix it; I just reached in myself and straightened the rolled-up areas.

My father, now free, quickly covered me with the blanket, looking somewhat nervous. I didn't know what he was thinking. I looked at him, and he looked at me. I said, "Dad, I have something to tell you." My father

was very nervous and asked, "What is it?"

I said seriously, "Your underwear is on backwards."

We both laughed when I said that, but there was no going back; it was too much trouble. I just had to bear it. It was a shame about those underwear; I wanted to surprise Xiao Qi.

For the next while, my relationship with my father became much closer than before. That's what family is like—once you stop focusing on each other's flaws and start looking at their strengths, you naturally become much closer. We talked more, though mostly about random things, but at least the house wasn't so quiet anymore, which I felt was good.

During this injury, I could clearly feel my father's care and love for me, something I'd never experienced before. Thinking about it, I realized I'd always been too easygoing since childhood, so easygoing that he never had to worry about me, which naturally didn't elicit his concern. But deep down, he loved me; I could tell from his expression when I was injured.

As for me, he later told me that I was stronger and more "interesting" than he thought.

He took care of me a lot during this time, so I won't list them all, but I'll just tell you a few things you'd like to hear.

One of them was my underwear. I needed to change my underwear. After my joking remark that day, my father relaxed and started taking care of changing my underwear. I changed it every two days during my period, and he remembered that. Every two nights, he would go to my room, learn how to use a sanitary pad online, and then bring it in to change my underwear.

He would automatically go to the bedside and lift the blanket. Here's something I should mention: I didn't notice it at the time, but the blanket was indeed being lifted higher and higher until it reached my waist. I didn't think my father was lustful; it was just that he had to take off my underwear every day when he put me in and took out the bedpan. This was the only inconvenience during my period, and when I urinated while lying down, urine would always drip onto my thighs, which my father would wipe for me. To be honest, it was the same when I was first injured, but neither of us thought anything of it. But this time, I felt something was off. Maybe it was because he took much longer to wipe me, or maybe it was because he took longer and longer to change my underwear.

My period lasts eight days, so I don't usually need to wear underwear since I'm wearing a nightgown. But my father still comes every two days to change my underwear, and I can't refuse. I feel like refusing would make things seem strange, like something's wrong when I'm fine.

The second thing he does is wash my hair, also in bed. He carefully turns me around, moves my head off the bed, puts a basin on a stool, fills it with hot water, and then he can wash my hair. He's obviously never washed anyone's hair before, let alone my long hair. Each wash takes thirty or forty minutes. I feel uncomfortable if I don't wash my hair, and I can't refuse.

Besides clumsily massaging my scalp with shampoo, he also likes to touch my face from time to time, his thumb sliding from near my ear to my chin. It tickles my face, so I joke with him, but he keeps doing it.

The last thing was that a month later, I was able to get out of bed and go for walks in a wheelchair. We lived on the fifth floor, and there was no elevator, so my father would carry the wheelchair down first, then come back up and carry me down. This wasn't a big deal, but gradually, his hands started to move higher and higher each time he carried me, eventually covering half of my breast.

I struggled once, and he lowered them, but the next time it happened again, so I just turned a blind eye. This led to him carrying me downstairs more and more often. Especially after two months, when I could use crutches, he still carried me down the stairs, citing the danger of the stairs.

As a patient myself, I was worried about my injured leg every day, so I could sense these things, but how to put it? I didn't have the courage to say directly, "Dad, you can't touch me!" Because I really couldn't bring myself to say it, afraid of worsening our already improved relationship. An awkwardness between family members is truly fatal. Besides, at the time, aside from some shyness, I didn't really think about it that way; after all, he was my father.

Fortunately, the injury wasn't serious, and the cast was finally removed. The doctor nodded, saying there wouldn't be any lasting effects, which truly put my mind at ease. I can slowly try to walk again, and I'm gradually starting to wash my clothes and cook for myself. My father is finally free, but Xiao Qi's college entrance exam is also fast approaching.

The incident happened on the day of my last check-up at the hospital. I felt a slight itch in my wound, knowing it was almost healed; at least I could toss and turn in bed without any problems. That evening, my father had a business dinner, so I made myself a bowl of pork rib noodle soup at home, took my medication, and went to bed. I was very sensitive to pain when I was injured, so the doctor prescribed some sedatives to ensure I could sleep, and I slept very soundly that night.

When I woke up the next day, I felt someone pressing on my breast. My first thought was that Xiao Qi had returned. Suddenly, I shuddered and smelled a pungent odor of alcohol. The hand was much larger and harder. I was lying on my left side, and the person behind me was pressed against me, his erect penis pressing against my buttocks. I knew it was my father.

He slipped his left hand under my neck and his right hand around above, pressing against my breast through my pajamas. My first reaction was fear; I wondered why my father was acting this way.

Looking back, I realize I didn't dare move at all, because I was preoccupied with figuring out what was happening and how my father had ended up sleeping in my room. But then it dawned on me: if he wasn't doing it on purpose, it meant that since I was sleeping in my parents' bedroom, he must have drunk too much the night before and, in his daze, had habitually wandered in and fallen asleep.

What should I do? Waking him up immediately would be too embarrassing, and I couldn't bear that. His heavy breathing was right next to my ear, and my mind was in turmoil. I simply closed my eyes again, but slowly and casually shifted my body. Sure enough, his even breathing stopped.

With my eyes closed, it would be a lie to say I wasn't nervous; I just didn't know if my father was doing it on purpose. If he was, I was truly at a loss.

My father seemed to sober up for a moment before abruptly removing his right hand from my body. However, his left hand was still pressed under my neck, leaving him momentarily at a loss.

I could clearly feel him carefully shifting his body away from my back, then extremely cautiously trying to pull his arm away. I found it somewhat amusing, but I pretended to shift uncomfortably. He immediately froze, and only after I calmed down did he begin to pull his arm away again, finally managing to do so after a considerable effort. Then he slowly got out of bed and left.

I pretended to sleep for another half hour before getting up. My father didn't show any unusual behavior, and naturally, I didn't either, eating the breakfast he had bought from outside. I only breathed a sigh of relief after my father left for school.

Thinking about it, this should all be a misunderstanding; my father had simply drunk too much and ended up lying together by mistake. Since my father didn't intend to explain, I naturally had to play dumb. It seemed I needed to move back to my own room quickly.

But now, I realized that some things weren't about my father and daughter, but rather about men and women. Because in my eyes, it was a coincidence, a twist of fate, and now it was over, so there wouldn't be any awkwardness. But later I learned that while it was an end for me, it was the beginning of something that haunted my father's dreams... Finally, the day of the college entrance exam was approaching, and Xiao Qi still had to come back to take it. I was almost fully recovered and could basically walk without my cane.

However, the exam center was quite far from home, so my father booked a hotel near the center and went to accompany him. This relieved me, as I didn't have to worry about delaying his exam. After all, if he stayed at home and needed me, I really didn't know if I could refuse.

These past two days, I've been alone at home, praying that Xiao Qi would do well. After all, this is a major event in his life, and it's also the last burden I'll bear at home. Only when Xiao Qi does well will I have truly fulfilled my mother's wishes.

The next afternoon, I prepared a large table of dishes, all of Xiao Qi's favorites, keeping track of the time. I kept checking the time, and my longing for Xiao Qi grew stronger.

Finally, I heard the door open, and then Xiao Qi, whom I hadn't seen for almost four months, walked into the house.

He was a bit darker and thinner, and had more facial hair. He carried his schoolbag into the house, closed the door, and looked up to see me. Since I was at home, I was only wearing a large t-shirt, loose shorts, slippers, and an apron.

Xiao Qi smiled and said, "Third Sister," then threw his schoolbag on the sofa, came over, picked me up, and spun me around twice. I felt he had grown a little taller, so I smiled and asked, "How did the exam go? Where's Dad?" Xiao Qi put me down, kissed my forehead, picked me up again, and carried me into my room, saying, "Just so-so. Dad went to school, said he had a drinking party." I was still holding a spoon, so I quickly punched him twice. He looked at me, then turned around and told me to put the spoon down. I tried to get down and untie my apron, but he wouldn't let me. He carried me away, and I patted him and pointed to my father's room. He was stunned at first, then carried me inside. Seeing that the sheets and blankets on the bed were facing me, he didn't ask any questions, put me on the bed, and first lifted my left leg to look at it. The ten-centimeter-long scar looked quite terrifying.

I asked, "Did Dad tell you?"

Xiao Qi nodded and said, "He told me when he brought me back. Does it still hurt?" I smiled and shook my head, "It's almost healed, but the scar is a bit of a problem." Xiao Qi lowered his head and kissed my scar, laughing, "It's because the graft was too perfect; even God is jealous." I saw that this kid's words were getting sweeter and sweeter, so I laughed and patted his head, "You smooth talker."

He didn't dodge and leaned in to kiss me. Our lips met, and my body instantly became aroused. Without him even asking, I took off his t-shirt, then quickly took off my apron and clothes, and hugged him tightly, kissing passionately.

His hands were very strong; I could feel the places he pinched hurting, but my whole body felt like it was being roasted in a furnace, and I didn't care about the pain at all. He pinned me to the bed, I could feel his body trembling, his breathing unusually heavy, his penis as hard as an iron rod, pressed tightly against my mons pubis. I clamped my legs around his buttocks, wrapped my arms around his neck, and responded to him passionately.

He removed my hands, raised his upper body, and I looked at him with hazy eyes. Then a sharp pain came from below. After almost half a year, he finally entered me again.

I didn't make him stop to find a condom. Although I was prepared, I didn't want to stop him anymore. He looked at my raised neck and sucked on it. He slowly began to thrust. My vagina seemed a little uncomfortable after the long interval, making me groan and moan. Xiao Qi also seemed to have been waiting too long, and after a few thrusts he stopped controlling the speed. It seemed he couldn't control himself anymore and began to thrust rapidly.

At this moment, my lower body began to adapt to the thrusting of his penis, and that full, satisfying feeling finally arrived. My moans grew louder, perhaps because we were in my parents' bed. I even fantasized that my mother was like me back then, her body shaped like the Chinese character "大" (big), and my father was like Xiao Qi, his hands kneading my mother's breasts while his lower body thrust vigorously... Amid Xiao Qi's heavy roars, gushes of hot semen spurted into my vagina. I held him tightly in my arms, waiting for him to recover.

After a while, Xiao Qi raised his sweaty head and looked at me, laughing, "Sis, I just couldn't hold back." Hearing this

, I smiled and wiped the sweat from his face, laughing, "Sis felt great too."

Xiao Qi got off me, let me lie in his arms, and began to pour out his feelings of longing for me over the past six months, vowing to die from exhaustion for me during the next three months of vacation. I laughed and punched him a few times, saying,

"What nonsense are you talking about? When you go to university, you'll have plenty of flowers to water."

He grinned and said, "I'm not looking for a girlfriend, how about I just sleep with my older sister?" I bit his arm and said, "I'm afraid I'll forget about my third sister by then."

He rolled over and pressed down on me, laughing, "Sis, you don't believe me? I'll prove it to you." With that, he thrust in. I hummed in response, watching him slowly move in and out, his upper body raised and staring at me. I knew he was up to something again.

This was how he brought me to orgasm. His face was full of amusement, and I felt a little embarrassed, but the intense pleasure below was slowly spreading throughout my body. He liked watching my expression as I slowly reached orgasm, especially when my face was flushed, I was sweating profusely, my hair was disheveled, my hands were flailing, my body was swaying, and my whole body was tense during orgasm, my vagina sucking his penis hard. He felt incredibly satisfied.

As I recovered from the afterglow of my climax, he began his onslaught. Seeking pleasure, he would hold my shoulders, his penis thrusting like a fully fueled engine. My moans were now intermittent, and I could only wait for him to ejaculate inside me again. After

our ordeal, the food on the table had gone cold. We took a shower together, and I reheated it for him. We then drank two bottles of beer to celebrate. Finally, I asked him to go out and buy emergency contraception, as it wasn't my safe period.

The following month truly became our honeymoon. Since I slept in my father's room, he shared a room with Xiao Qi, and my father slept in my older brother's bed. There was no opportunity at night, but during the day, once my father went to school, he would become very affectionate with me. His energy seemed inexhaustible; the bed, the sofa, the kitchen, the bathroom—all became our lovemaking venues. I had to prepare some energy-boosting food for him, which made my father think it was for him.

My leg finally healed, and Xiao Qi's grades came out. They were good; he passed the cutoff for top universities, but still fell short of his sister's grades from years ago. He was ultimately accepted into a university in the provincial capital, which led to another round of celebrations.

My father was happy, and I felt a huge weight lifted off my shoulders, feeling I had finally fulfilled my mother's wishes. My sister and older brother both called to congratulate Xiao Qi; the whole family was overjoyed.

However, my father wouldn't let Xiao Qi stay home idle. He found him a factory job as an intern. Xiao Qi initially didn't want to go, but my father promised to use his earnings to buy him a computer, making up the difference himself if necessary. Only then did Xiao Qi reluctantly agree. Since the factory was a closed facility, Xiao Qi had to live there. However, he would occasionally come to my shop and bother me.

As for my shop, now that my leg was healed, I could finally start managing it again. My aunt had sold all the old clothes, so I had to restock. Thanks to my aunt and Xiao Qi's help, I wasn't overworked.

After finally reopening, quite a few old customers came to patronize the business, and I was working with great enthusiasm. Aside from not being able to do strenuous exercise, my legs were fine.

When I got home that evening, I took a shower and sat on the sofa to watch TV. As soon as my father saw me sit down, he got up and took a small bottle from the coffee table, saying, "I heard about this from a doctor at the hospital; it's very effective at removing scars."

I took it and looked at it; it was a foreign brand. I hadn't expected my father to be so thoughtful. Lately, my relationship with my father has become much closer than before. Before, we rarely exchanged words, but now we can talk about many things related to the shop and school. Although we mostly listen to each other and don't really have much interaction, it has made us less distant than before.

I dried my wet hair, put the ointment back on the table, and thought I would apply it later. Seeing that I was having trouble, my father sat down next to me, took the ointment, and lifted my injured leg onto his lap, saying,

"Let me apply it for you."

I was drying my hair, not really wanting to bother my father, but he'd gotten used to taking care of me lately, so I didn't firmly refuse. For comfort, I turned to one side, since I was wearing a knee-length nightgown, which made it easy.

My eyes were on TV, and as I dried my hair, I felt a cool sensation on my wound. Then my father's fingers began applying ointment. I didn't think much of it, engrossed in the Korean drama on TV, so it wasn't until I finished drying my hair that I realized his entire hand was stroking my calf.

I instinctively pulled away, but my father didn't seem to notice anything amiss. He simply put the ointment away in the drawer and started chatting with me about Xiao Qi. For a while afterward, my father would apply the ointment every night, but I didn't think much of it.

Since my leg healed, and with Xiao Qi's return, I've been in excellent condition in every way. A harmonious sex life is extremely important for women. I didn't realize it myself, but my aunt often said I looked radiant and youthful, like a tender scallion. I knew Xiao Qi was largely responsible for that.

For the two months leading up to Xiaoqi's departure for university, I had a very comfortable time. I was busy with the shop, so I wasn't bored; my relationship with my father grew closer, and we often chatted and laughed when I came home; and every few days, Xiaoqi would come to the shop to be affectionate with me. I can say that I felt truly happy during that period.

However, Xiaoqi was finally going to university, and my father naturally had to see him off. I watched him board the train, and thinking about the two hours I spent with Xiaoqi at the shop yesterday, knowing I wouldn't see him again until winter break, I felt a pang of sadness.

Back home, my aunt came to chat with me. My aunt and I are very close. After my mother passed away, she took care of me, including helping me with the shop's opening, so I treat her like my own mother. I'm also very grateful for her care during my hospitalization.

We talked mostly about everyday things. My aunt is quite talkative, and I'm also quite talkative, so we had endless things to say. Finally, the conversation turned to my father remarrying.

I couldn't help but think of what happened that night. I naturally agreed; after all, my father was under fifty and hadn't remarried for the past few years because of his children. Now that Xiao Qi was in college, it was time for him to pursue his own happiness.

As for me, I could easily move out after my father got married, saving myself the inconvenience. So I chatted with my aunt about all sorts of things, imagining life with a stepmother.

Finally, we talked about myself, and my aunt said that since I was already 22, even if I didn't get married, I should at least have a boyfriend. I naturally brushed it off, since I didn't really care, just saying I'd leave it to fate.

[The End]

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