Don't play with fire, or you'll get burned!

This story stems from a true event I experienced myself. Although it happened two or three years ago, recalling it still sends chills down my spine and keeps me awake at night. In June 2007, I started working at the Shanghai XX Court as a contract-based judicial assistant. Having a law degree, I quickly became familiar with and adept at court work. After successfully passing my probationary period, I was assigned to the enforcement division as a court clerk, nominally a judicial assistant but in reality. Although the salary was significantly lower than that of a regular court clerk, I couldn't complain too much since I had chosen to work within the system, especially as a newcomer with low seniority. I had no choice but to accept it. Anyone who has worked in a court knows that the infighting within it is no less intense than, and certainly no less intense than, that of the imperial palaces of ancient times. For a newcomer like me, the priority shouldn't be scheming against others; it's about spending a few years establishing myself and protecting myself. According to some of the "veterans" (senior and senior members) in the court, for someone like me, a newcomer, to the court to have a good presiding judge is a blessing from a previous life. But whether it's true that I did accumulate good karma in my past life or not, I really did meet a good presiding judge after joining the enforcement division—who is also the female protagonist of this article—Sister Rong. Sister Rong is thirty-six years old, married with a two-year-old son. She has worked in this court for 18 years. Her husband works in another court in Shanghai as the presiding judge of the civil division. Overall, she seems to have a happy marriage, a fulfilling family life, a successful career, and no desires or wants. The reason I call her a good presiding judge is because she is exceptionally well-liked within the court. From the court president to the mailroom staff, everyone speaks highly of her; and her reputation is no less impressive, with everyone in the court praising her. She is dedicated and gives her all to her work, colleagues, superiors, and litigants. When you first arrive in a new place, unfamiliar with everything, making mistakes is inevitable, and I was no exception. When I first arrived at the enforcement division, there were many tasks I hadn't encountered during my probationary period, such as taking statements from litigants, taking statements from the collegial panel, and preparing reports. These seemingly trivial and unfamiliar tasks became repetitive daily duties in the enforcement division. So, when I first started, I genuinely felt overwhelmed, and worse, I frequently made mistakes. As a result, being reprimanded by other enforcement officers and some of the more senior court staff became commonplace. It was at this most helpless moment that Sister Rong stepped forward. She never scolded me for my mistakes, only offering kind reminders and corrections. She patiently taught me when I made mistakes; guided me in the right direction when I was confused; and assigned others to help me complete my tasks when my workload became unbearable… until, after about half a year, I was able to handle my daily tasks independently and with ease. During that time, I received so much guidance and help from Sister Rong that I felt ashamed beyond measure, and that's why everyone in the court praised her so highly. I had indeed followed a good judge. One day in May of 2008, a chance event instantly transformed my simple subordinate-supervisor relationship with Sister Rong. It was lunchtime, and everyone in the court, big and small, was eating in the canteen. Sister Rong's three-year-old son was also there with her. This was the first time I'd seen Sister Rong's son, but I suspect others had seen him more than once, especially in the same place and setting. Almost no one seemed curious or deliberately teased the child; everything was normal. People were queuing to buy food, eating, and leaving—everything was as usual. But then, an accident happened. Sister Rong got up to get another dish, and just as she did, another court staff member walked past her carrying a plate of food. Sister Rong couldn't react in time, and the staff member couldn't dodge either; they collided. A bowl of soup on the plate, served in a small bowl, was knocked over, and unexpectedly—underneath it was Sister Rong's three-year-old son. A bowl of scalding hot soup was about to spill onto the child...On my tender skin, in a flash, sitting behind the child, I instinctively wrapped my right arm around his neck and, as if wrestling, pulled him directly into my arms. The spilled hot soup splattered all over my right arm and back. A gasp rippled through the cafeteria, and chaos erupted: some were concerned for the child, some for Sister Rong, and some for me; some said to rush to the hospital, some said to apply soap first, and some said to put me in the cold water basin immediately. Because it was May in Shanghai, I was dressed lightly, and when I lifted my shirt, I found my arm and right back were a patch of red, itchy, and painful. The entire cafeteria was in chaos. The men were offering suggestions, while the women were lamenting their loss… I only vaguely remember being taken to the hospital shirtless in a court police car. The doctor seemed to have diagnosed that it wasn't a burn. After treatment, bandaging, and medication, I was driven straight home in the court police car and rested for two or three days. During that time, Sister Rong sent me a text message with just a few words—"Thank you! I owe you!" But I could feel the power of those words. I initially wanted to reply with something like, "You've helped me a lot too, this is nothing," but then I thought, no, Sister Rong's earnestness suggests her son is incredibly important to her. A few days later, back at the hospital, the way my colleagues and superiors looked at me seemed different. Several close friends silently patted my left shoulder; I felt they were acknowledging my selfless act of saving someone. Upon seeing Sister Rong, she gave me a heartfelt hug, tight and tearful. I could feel the strength of that hug, and the lingering pain in my right arm and back. A benefactor? Although I didn't want to think that way, subconsciously, I felt this unexpected event might be a blessing in disguise. Indeed, just as I suspected, Sister Rong took great care of me in my work afterwards. She delegated some of the more tedious tasks that I used to do to others, such as interns, new assistants, or clerks. Under Sister Rong's "guidance," I gradually learned many of our department's "internal secrets," such as the vice-dean being a very flirtatious old woman, the long-time employee in the reception office having never been promoted because he had offended the dean, and the fact that some people in the department didn't get along with Sister Rong and were waiting to see her fail. In short, besides helping and facilitating my work, Sister Rong also revealed many "exclusive private" pieces of information that I would normally have needed much longer to learn. A little over a month after I recovered from my injuries, on August 7th, Sister Rong invited me to her home for dinner. She said it was her son's fourth birthday, and it was also a formal way of thanking me for being injured while saving her son. I gladly accepted. Her home was a two-bedroom apartment, and her son still slept with her and her husband. It was the first time I had seen her husband; aside from his work background, he seemed like an average person—gentle and refined. Sister Rong had cooked dinner, and the birthday boy was overjoyed to see me, as if he had seen an Ultraman toy. He probably still remembered the injury I had sustained for him a few months earlier. The birthday boy pulled me to sit down, and Sister Rong and her husband warmly served me food. At the same time, Sister Rong introduced him to her husband, saying things like, "This is the little guy I told you about who saved our son last year, the one who came to our neighborhood last year," and I ate my food while quietly agreeing with him. As we were eating, a QQ message notification came from the inner room. Sister Rong calmly put down her chopsticks and strolled in. Her husband, sitting at the table, gave me an awkward smile before continuing to eat. I could only grimace and continue eating as well. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the birthday boy's brow furrowed slightly, as if he were deep in thought. Five minutes passed, and Sister Rong was still in the inner room. Her husband called out, and she responded. Ten minutes passed, and Sister Rong still hadn't come out. I could faintly hear the crisp "click" of fingers tapping on a keyboard. Sister Rong's husband got up and walked to the door, calling out in a low voice. I could tell he was deliberately suppressing his rising anger. I guessed that this had probably happened many times before, but today, because I was a guest, he couldn't lash out. Judging from Sister Rong's nonchalant departure after hearing the QQ message notification, it seemed to be a long-established conditioned reflex. After I finished thinking, Sister Rong still didn't come out, and didn't even respond. Her husband seemed to have reached his limit, pushed open the door and went straight in, leaving the door slightly ajar. The birthday boy next to me pulled me aside and said, "They're about to argue." Before I could even wonder, I heard a rapid conversation coming from the inner room. It went something like this: Husband: "Who are you chatting with again?!" Rongjie: "Who said we're chatting? We're talking business." Husband: "Talking business? Talking business to the point of not eating or sleeping?!" Rongjie: "What are you talking about? Get out, I'll be right back!" Husband: "I'm telling you, stop messing around, or I'll see what you do to you!" Rongjie: "What did you say?! You'll do something to me?! What right do you have?! I'm telling you, leave me alone!" Husband: "Leave you alone?! If I don't leave you alone, what will happen to our son?! Look what you've done to him! If he hadn't been rescued, the consequences would have been unimaginable! Have you fulfilled your responsibilities as a mother?! Huh?!" Rongjie: "This time it was an accident! No matter what, I don't want anything to happen to my son!" Husband: "This time it was an accident? Okay, okay, then let me ask you, where were you when he was sick before? Huh?!" "When you talk business, you're always talking to strangers!" Sister Rong: "Yes, I was wrong that time, but if you hadn't locked the computer, I wouldn't have gotten into this mess." Husband: "You have the nerve to say I locked the computer?! Fine, fine, you go out to eat now, and I'll throw this computer away, just you wait!" After the room quieted down, I had almost finished eating. The birthday boy sat there silently, and it was clear he was used to it. A little while later, Sister Rong and her husband came out. I immediately got up and carefully made up an excuse to leave. Sister Rong and her husband both looked rather unhappy, probably because of the big argument earlier, so they didn't try to keep me. After saying goodbye to the birthday boy, Sister Rong saw me to the door. On the stairs, Sister Rong apologized repeatedly, saying she was sorry I had taken offense. I repeatedly assured her it was alright, and she seemed a little more at ease. On the way to the station, Sister Rong put her arm around my shoulder, like a buddy, and talked to me about her family as we walked. It turns out that Rongjie's marriage was an arranged one. It's hard to imagine that a legal professional couldn't assert her right to choose her own spouse. Her parents arranged her current husband, believing they were a good match. Rongjie, burdened by work and unable to focus on anything else, missed her prime age for finding a partner. Desperate to marry and raise children, she registered her marriage without much thought. Shortly after, her son was born. However, Rongjie discovered that her husband was utterly unromantic, rigid, and inflexible (I suspect this is related to their positions; civil court staff tend to be more rule-abiding, while enforcement court staff are more tactful and adaptable). At home, they mostly talked about work, rarely asking about Rongjie's needs—whether practical, emotional, or physical. Rongjie had almost no emotional connection with him; her first love seemed to be a more vivid memory. If it weren't for the birth of her son, perhaps she would have gritted her teeth and simply divorced him. She loves her son, and his birth has temporarily mended the cracks in her marriage. But what happened today wasn't the first time; it had already occurred when even her son couldn't mend the rift. The culprit was QQ, specifically a certain man on QQ. When talking about this man, Sister Rong's face was full of longing, as if she were reminiscing about her first love. She said he was a few years younger than her, but spoke with a mature air; they shared a common worldview, values, and outlook on life; they had common hobbies, shared interests, and could communicate easily—in short, they were very compatible. Sister Rong said she had known him for over six months, and if she could, she would be willing to abandon her family and be with him. The main reason she hadn't acted on it until now was due to work and her child. She said that the saddest thing in life is not being able to decide one's own path and destiny. Too many burdens bind us, preventing us from acting according to our truest desires… On the bus, as it drove along, I looked out the window, thinking about Sister Rong. Sister Rong is thirty-seven this year, married with a four-year-old son. Her husband is faithful; her marriage isn't perfect, but it's stable. Her family isn't happy, but it's peaceful. She has a job, no worries about food or clothing, and has no desires or wants… For a state that lasts only six months and is more like an intangible feeling, she's willing to give up everything she has to try and grasp it. I don't know how to evaluate such a concept. Perhaps without experiencing it firsthand, one has no right to judge. Sister Rong is just an ordinary woman. The next day at work, I noticed Sister Rong's…Something was wrong: her eyes were noticeably red and swollen, her face was also somewhat puffy, and she seemed dazed and completely out of sorts. If it weren't for the fact that the presiding judge could appropriately waive her participation in grassroots enforcement work, her condition would clearly warrant criticism. During the lunch break, I pulled her aside and asked what had happened. She told me everything—after seeing me off home the previous night, she went straight home, only to find her husband had completely dismantled the computer and then engaged in a full-blown physical fight with her that night. Although her husband hadn't hit her hard, it wasn't light either; if she hadn't been wearing a uniform, the bloodstains would have been clearly visible. Furthermore, her husband had given her an ultimatum: never chat on QQ again, at least not with that man anymore—no room for negotiation… Sister Rong cried all night, her eyes red and swollen, because of love, and because of hate—hate for her husband, and love for the QQ man. After Rongjie finished speaking, she burst into tears again, hugging me and crying uncontrollably, as if all the world's grievances were concentrated on her. I finally understood what a heartbroken person looked like. I clung to her like a buddy; her body was soft and fragrant. Watching her sob and bounce on my shoulder, I sighed. Indeed, although Rongjie was the head of our court's enforcement division, earning nearly ten thousand yuan a month and wielding considerable power, she was, in reality, just an ordinary woman. As the saying goes, secrets can't stay hidden forever. As the head of our court's enforcement division, news of Rongjie's suspected extramarital affair soon reached the ears of the court president and his colleagues—of course, someone must have snitched. And naturally, Rongjie received a severe scolding. After criticism, education, self-criticism, repentance, promises, and oaths of self-reflection, Rongjie, like a tender shoot after a frost, returned to work, and within a short time, she was back to her old self, radiant and full of life. But those who knew her knew that Sister Rong was putting on a brave face. And subsequent events proved this to be true, echoing the old saying—"Either erupt in silence or die in silence!" Then came the busiest time of the year for the court: the end of the year. Cases large and small had to be closed before the end of the year; meetings large and small had to be held before the end of the year; leaders large and small had to assign their requirements before the end of the year; instructions, directives, plans, summaries, approvals, letters, notices, and the direction and goals for the coming year all had to be conveyed before the end of the year—the workload was staggering. Fortunately, work filled the void in her heart. During this time, Sister Rong seemed like a different person, completely different from the woman who cried on my shoulder. She was capable, concise, energetic, and decisive. Her reputation remained among the best in the entire court, though some meddlesome colleagues would add a "but" when introducing her to newcomers—"But, her family situation is problematic, and I heard she's into online dating." Fortunately, Sister Rong had a solid fan base, which prevented her from being defeated by such rumors; otherwise, she probably wouldn't have been able to survive in this gossip-ridden place. I thought that after these minor setbacks and turmoil, life would return to normal, but little did I know that the real drama was just beginning. After finishing the busy work at the end of 2008, the court traditionally held a year-end dinner to celebrate the completion of the year's work and to prepare for the Spring Festival two months later. Everyone in our court attended except for those who were truly too busy. I regretted not being able to attend due to some personal matters at home in 2007, and since I'm not one of those people who are too busy, I was really looking forward to it this time and went with great enthusiasm. Those present were mostly people I often saw: the heads of various courts, the political department, and even the slutty vice-president. After taking my seat, I saw Sister Rong laughing and talking at the dean's table. Not wearing her uniform, Sister Rong was dressed very young that day, wearing a thin, fitted wool sweater, slim-fit jeans, and five-centimeter heels. She wore light makeup, and a thick down jacket and a delicate small handbag hung on the back of her chair. I then realized that Sister Rong was very feminine—gentle and thoughtful. Although not strikingly beautiful, she exuded the charm and allure of a mature woman. Her light makeup effectively concealed the few freckles and slight imperfections in her skin, creating a fresh and elegant look. Her fitted clothing perfectly accentuated her full figure, a result of being a mother. Of course, she had a slight tummy, but overall, it didn't detract from her beauty. In my opinion, she outshone many mature women and rivaled a young married woman. Just then, Sister Rong suddenly locked her gaze on me, a smirk playing on her lips. She raised her wine glass, and I, understanding her meaning, also raised my glass, toasting her in the air. The banquet was lively, with the dean giving a humorous speech, the presiding judge offering witty retorts, and some junior colleagues who weren't usually so flamboyant being teased by the older folks. Several talented individuals even put on a stand-up comedy routine, creating a harmonious atmosphere. The drinking enthusiasts took the opportunity to toast everyone, play drinking games, and drink freely. We, the assistant judges, didn't dare to be presumptuous due to our positions, simply echoing their sentiments from the sidelines. I ate and observed, getting a glimpse of a different side of them that I didn't usually see. Then, Sister Rong staggered over to our table, slurring her words as she recounted how I had saved her son a few months ago. She insisted on toasting me, clearly drunk. The dean beside her supported her, afraid she might fall. Since our table was mostly filled with junior members, as soon as the dean helped Sister Rong over to offer a toast, everyone immediately stood up with their glasses in hand and respectfully drank it down first. Sister Rong was also generous and downed her drink in one gulp. Then she picked up the half-empty bottle of red wine on our table, filled it up for herself, and said to me that she wanted to offer me a separate toast. I couldn't refuse her, so I drank it down with her. After finishing her drink, she slowly put down her glass, swayed slightly, patted my shoulder, and gently asked, "Is your injury alright?" Her touch sent a jolt through me: Slightly drunk, Sister Rong's face was radiant, her skin fair and rosy, her eyes alluring, her breath sweet and fragrant. Her lips, glistening with lipstick and moistened by the red wine, appeared even more luscious… Just as I was feeling awkward and unsure what to do, Sister Rong suddenly swayed violently, pushed me away, covered her mouth, and ran towards the door. The director laughed, "Too much drinking, too much drinking, she threw up." I was stunned by the scene and couldn't move, watching Sister Rong run towards the door. I just stood there, frozen. "I'll go check on her, you guys continue," came the director's voice. He then walked away. After sitting down, the scene kept replaying in my mind. Perhaps it's true that young women of her age can unintentionally capture the hearts of young, normal men. A short while later, Sister Rong returned, supported by the dean. The dean helped her directly to our table and instructed her, "Don't drink anymore. Sit here, closer to the door, less crowded, get some fresh air. You guys keep an eye on her, don't let her drink anymore." After ordering a pot of tea, the dean left. Sister Rong sat down next to me, her head resting on the table. She smelled of alcohol, and also had a familiar fragrance. She lay there quietly, her full breasts rising and falling, indicating her even and steady breathing. Her slightly protruding belly, besides indicating she was a mother, also showed that she had really drunk a lot that day. She had some freckles on her face, if you looked closely. But the skin on her neck was very good, fine and smooth, and I imagined that her full breasts under her clothes must also be flawless. Her legs, encased in slim-fit jeans, were long and shapely, and I imagined that her lower body was also fair and firm, without an ounce of excess fat. Looking at my colleagues, superiors, mentors, and friends—including Sister Rong—slumped beside me, I was overcome with a lewd thought… I grabbed a glass of red wine and downed it in one gulp, managing to calm my agitated emotions somewhat. Around ten o'clock that night, the banquet ended, and Sister Rong was probably asleep. Everyone said their goodbyes; those with plans went to complete them, those with appointments went to theirs, and the rest dispersed. The dean came over and pulled me aside, saying, “Sister Rong’s husband is away on a business trip these past few days. She can’t go home on her own in this state. Could you please take her home?” I readily agreed. Afterwards, I found it strange that the dean was so certain I would know Sister Rong’s address. Everyone hurriedly lifted Sister Rong into a taxi. She was probably really drunk; aside from babbling incoherently, she showed no other reaction. Finally, the dean let go, saying, “Phew, what happened? She drank so much. She wasn’t like this before.” He complained as he prepared to leave. I got into a taxi, said goodbye to everyone, gave the driver my address, and the car sped away. The streetlights were just coming on, and all three of us were silent. We soon arrived at Rongjie's house. I helped Rongjie into the building, took her keys, and opened the door. The house was pitch black. I casually asked her where her son was. Rongjie seemed half-drunk, vaguely saying something like her son was at his grandmother's house, followed by a string of incomprehensible words. I took her...I carried her to bed, and then, just like in the movies, I fetched hot water, wrung out a towel, and poured hot tea to help her sober up. After drinking some hot tea, Rongjie seemed to fall asleep completely. I took off her shoes and her coat, which was stained with vomit. She cooperated well, not making a sound. However, when I was covering her with the blanket, I hesitated: should I take off her sweater and jeans? I knew that if I took off her sweater and jeans, I would definitely be able to see her mature body underneath, and those two alluring breasts that I loved so much… I shook my head frantically, covered Rongjie with the blanket, and then went to change the hot towel on her forehead. While washing the towel, the image of Rongjie's naked body was still flashing in my mind, and I discovered that I had actually gotten an erection. My breathing quickened, and my blood pressure rose slightly. After wrung out the towel, when I returned to Rongjie's room, I found that Rongjie was "awake," sitting on the bed with her legs drawn up, staring blankly ahead. "Rongjie, you're awake?" I asked. "…" Rongjie didn't answer. "You were drunk just now, the director asked me to bring you back," I continued, handing her a hot towel. "..." Sister Rong remained silent, and didn't take the towel. I then noticed that although she was sitting with her eyes open, her expression was blank, more like she was "sleeping with her eyes open." I gently tugged at her, and sure enough, she slumped straight towards me, bursting into tears. Between sobs, she cried, "Where have you been? It's not that I didn't want to look for you, it's that I couldn't look for you!" "No, no, I love you, you have to believe me." "I have no feelings for him anymore. For you, I can give up everything and go with you." "..." Then came a jumbled mess of words, and because of her drunkenness, Sister Rong's words were mumbled incoherently, making them impossible to understand. She cried and spoke, and I could only hold her close, letting her weep. After crying for a while, perhaps feeling uncomfortable, Sister Rong changed her position and lay in my arms. I called out, "Sister Rong, Sister Rong," and she only responded vaguely, probably still half-drunk. This left me momentarily at a loss: a mature, voluptuous body lying in the arms of a normal, healthy young man—the mature body half-drunk, half-awake, with bare flesh beneath her clothes; the young man in his prime, able to remove his clothes without anyone noticing… Sister Rong's breath tickled my arm, making my hairs stand on end. I subconsciously pinched Sister Rong's shoulder, unsure whether it was an irresistible urge to rub against her or to confirm if she was truly asleep. At that moment, I felt that Sister Rong's position in my arms meant her arm was directly touching my genitals, and of course, I was already erect. Looking at Rongjie, a smile seemed to play on her lips, whether she was secretly pleased with my naivety or mocking my boldness… Finally, as if having made up my mind, I tentatively kissed Rongjie's lips, and this kiss sealed the fate of the matter. Whether Rongjie dreamt of her ideal man in her dreams or for some other reason, when I kissed her, she not only didn't resist but responded passionately! She actively sought my mouth with her fragrant tongue, our lips met, our tongues intertwined, saliva flowing freely. Rongjie's tongue was soft, her saliva slightly sweet, and it tasted wonderful. We excitedly embraced each other, our noses touching, our heads swinging wildly from side to side like pendulums, all for the sake of closer contact. I kissed her passionately from her lips down to her neck, where the skin was incredibly smooth and exuded the unique scent of a mature woman; Rongjie, in turn, tilted her head back, looking completely intoxicated and alluring. Strike while the iron is hot, she teased my desire, and I tore at her clothes. After tearing off her sweater and jeans, I found that, as I expected, the mature woman's body was dazzlingly white, incomparably alluring. I kissed Rong Jie's entire body frantically, roughly kneading her two full breasts, greedily sucking, nibbling, and biting, as if trying to tear them off from Rong Jie and possess them forever. Rong Jie was clearly aroused by my actions, she tightly hooked her legs around my buttocks, desperately trying to make contact with my erect penis with her genitals, and made disordered low growls, like a snake. I kissed my way down her body, circling my tongue around Rongjie's thighs and groin, gently and rhythmically tormenting her. Rongjie was clearly defenseless against this, constantly twisting her waist and heaving her chest, looking like a leopard in heat under the soft yellow light of the room. As I circled, I fondled Rongjie's beautiful breasts. Her nipples were already proudly erect, brownish, like ripe and plump peanuts, incredibly alluring. With my third round of force, Rongjie deliberately suppressed her moans, biting her delicate lips, and had her first orgasm. Accompanied by the continuous contractions of her vaginal opening and the spasms of Rongjie's abdomen, her vulva continuously gushed out milky white fluid, while Rongjie closed her beautiful eyes tightly, stretched her neck, and tried to regulate her breathing. After three waves of fluid, Rongjie gradually calmed down. Just as I was preparing for the next wave of attack, Rongjie suddenly burst into tears without warning. I panicked for a moment, wondering if I had misunderstood and caused a disaster. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong? I'm so sorry." "I miss you, where are you?" "Do you know how tired I've been these past few months? I'm so tired..." Sister Rong rambled on, crying under the influence of alcohol. "I'm about to break down, please save me." I was stunned. It was indeed as I had suspected; Sister Rong had been enduring these past few months. And this outburst was an release of the pressure she had been under since then, fueled by alcohol. Since her husband had dismantled her computer in August, Sister Rong had probably had little contact with the QQ man, so she had nowhere to vent her pressure and no one to express her emotions. And today, she exploded... Suddenly, I felt boundless pity for the woman lying naked in front of me. I gently cupped Sister Rong's tear-streaked face and carefully kissed her. Sister Rong seemed to sense something, gently searching for me, and then we embraced deeply again. After what felt like an eternity, I gently placed her on the bed, pulled down my pants, and took out my already throbbing penis, slowly inserting it into Rongjie's lower body. Rongjie seemed to have been anticipating this for a long time; although her eyes were still tightly closed, she let out a pleasurable moan: "Hoo..." Just that one sound was enough to make any man in the world succumb. I held her legs and began a piston-like motion, nine shallow thrusts followed by one deep one. Rongjie's vagina was slightly loose, but very well-maintained, a deep red color, with her pubic hair trimmed into what is called a "slit in the sky." After more than two hundred thrusts, Rongjie arched her body violently, climaxing for the second time. I withdrew from Rongjie's body, catching her fluids in my mouth, and mischievously licking her labia majora and minora with my tongue, causing her to moan continuously, some of which were even animalistic roars emanating from within. Seeing Rongjie's flushed face, I entered her again. Rongjie seemed to love the feeling, her legs tightly gripping my waist, her lower body almost lifting off the bed, a position that allowed me to penetrate deeper. So I worked even harder to explore the lustful beast before me. After more than three hundred final thrusts, I held Rongjie tightly, and with a moan escaping her throat, I released my pent-up desire, reaching our climax together… Throughout, Rongjie only groaned softly and never opened her eyes. Afterwards, I dressed while tentatively calling her name. I didn't know what I wanted to confirm, explain, or see if she was really asleep. Did I want to do it again? I was completely confused. When I finished dressing and looked at Rongjie on the bed, she simply turned over meaningfully and then remained still, her breathing so light it was almost inaudible. Perhaps Rongjie was simply asleep? I didn't know. I only knew that I had to go. After tidying up a bit, I closed the door and left Rongjie's house. On my way to the station, I was surprised to receive a text message from Rongjie: "I'm returning your... I feel much better." It turned out Rongjie was indeed awake; she knew it was me, and she was still bothered by my injury. On the train, I received another text message from Rongjie: "Don't overthink it. Our department is having its 'Advanced Personnel' evaluation next month. Don't hold me back; I'm still your boss." Outside the window, the night was deep and quiet. Indeed, Rongjie was my boss, always my boss. At the beginning of 2009, the entire department launched a vigorous "Advanced Personnel" evaluation campaign, conducted by each division, with the finance department and document department listed separately. The campaign lasted six months, with the results announced on June 10th. The heads of the divisions that were awarded "Advanced Personnel" status were expected to be promoted, meaning a salary increase. Our division was naturally led by Rongjie, and at that moment, everyone in our enforcement division had only one belief: to strive for "Advanced Personnel." Since the Lunar New Year is in February, Rongjie's plan for the month or so leading up to it was primarily focused on preparation, so that she could act without any worries after the New Year began. This arrangement had two advantages.The reason given was twofold: firstly, with the Lunar New Year approaching, everyone was focused on the holiday after finishing their current work, so assigning more tasks was inappropriate; secondly, everyone had been busy all year and needed a good rest to be motivated to perform better in the future. We all agreed to this arrangement. As for what happened between Rong and me that night, neither of us mentioned it again afterward. It vanished like smoke, leaving no trace, and Rong's spirits improved day by day. When I asked her what good thing had happened, she simply said, "My spring has arrived," and then smiled without saying anything more. I couldn't guess what kind of spring it was, but I was happy that Rong had recovered from that setback. After finishing my work and receiving Rong's guidance on the specific challenges of the upcoming competition, the Lunar New Year arrived quickly. On the third day of the Lunar New Year, I visited Rong's home to offer my New Year's greetings. Rong was quite surprised by my arrival, but her subsequent behavior was quite natural. Her son was still very enthusiastic towards me, the little guy jumping around. However, the relationship between Sister Rong and her husband was really not flattering. They barely spoke, always facing each other coldly, and her husband seemed more like a balloon that could burst at any moment. Sister Rong only showed a smile and gentleness rarely seen at home when she was with me or her son. I felt somewhat ashamed because that night, and I vaguely felt that I might be the culprit who caused Sister Rong and her husband's cold war. Of course, I hoped that this was just my own conjecture. Sister Rong's son seemed to have already gotten used to this environment, still clinging to me and laughing, ignoring his parents' confrontation. After returning to work after the New Year, everyone in our enforcement division seemed to be on edge, carrying out double the work under Sister Rong's almost demanding requirements: one was our regular work, and the other was striving for excellence. However, unlike our colleagues in other divisions, we didn't complain, because we were more willing to work hard for Sister Rong. Besides improving ourselves, we were also providing help to our respected leader, so there was no loss in it. Our court had the best chance of winning this competition, as we were far ahead in terms of team spirit, work content, completion rate, and customer satisfaction. Sister Rong's interpersonal skills meant that the heads and staff of the other, less successful courts felt no jealousy or resentment; they simply conceded defeat. Only one person was quite disdainful: the person Sister Rong had mentioned before who harbored hostility towards her and was waiting to see her fail—Old Shen, the head of the document department. Old Shen was definitely a veteran of our court; calling him an "elder" was no exaggeration. He had served the XX court for over thirty years and was currently 55 years old. According to Sister Rong, despite his long service, his rank had never been high, and his salary had remained around three to four thousand yuan. With his age, his chances of being on the front lines of trials were virtually zero. The reason Old Shen was at odds with Sister Rong was because he lost a promotion competition, a situation he still held to this day. According to other "veterans" who participated in the election, Rongjie's promotion was widely expected, while Lao Shen was somewhat overconfident. Regardless, the feud between Rongjie and Lao Shen was established. In April 2009, two months before the results of the awards were announced, our department's advantage was becoming increasingly apparent. Lao Shen's copywriting department, ranked second, was lagging far behind, and statistically, it was incomparable to our department. Rongjie's spirits were also rising. While everyone was happy for her true "resurrection," a chance encounter revealed the real reason for her "resurrection." That day, Rongjie left work early, finished explaining what we needed to do, and then left the hospital alone. I saw her off and went out to make tea. When I returned, I found Rongjie's phone on her desk. Without thinking, I grabbed it and rushed out. After quickly crossing the overpass (there was road construction in front of our courthouse at the time, and this overpass was the only way to get out), I saw Sister Rong and a man walking side by side towards the distance. Without thinking much, I rushed after them, finally catching up when they were about a hundred meters away from the overpass. I didn't recognize the man; he was young, about my age, with handsome features, large eyes, a straight nose, and a tall, upright figure. When Sister Rong saw me, she pulled me aside, her face beaming with happiness, and said, "Remember the man on QQ I told you about? That's him." Sister Rong's frankness left me speechless. I stared at the QQ man in front of me, unsure how to greet him. "Hey, what brings you here?" Sister Rong noticed the awkward atmosphere. "Oh, oh, right, you forgot your phone," I replied sheepishly, taking out my phone for her. "Oh, it's just this? If you didn't take it, just leave it there. I don't have anyone I need to contact anyway," Sister Rong said nonchalantly. "..." I was speechless again. "Alright, I've taken it. You should go back now. There's no overtime pay for working overtime," Sister Rong joked, taking the phone. After returning to the court, I carefully recalled the situation and understood some things. It was because of this QQ man's appearance that Sister Rong regained her youth and high spirits; it was also this QQ man that made Sister Rong completely indifferent to her husband; and her slightly loose lower body could perhaps be attributed to this QQ man's diligent efforts. There were only 10 days left until the results were announced. During this period, the presiding judges of the top three courts were required to undergo review and questioning according to the rules, which was essentially a summary interview. The review was conducted in the order of third, second, and first place, and Sister Rong was scheduled for June 3rd. Life, which seemed to be progressing normally, took an unexpected turn, like a movie, delivering a dramatic climax at the most unforeseen moment! On June 1st, Sister Rong did not appear at her workplace. The political department and the court president were also unaware of her whereabouts. However, given the presiding judge's special status, it was common for her to miss a day at court, so no one paid much attention; they simply knew that Sister Rong hadn't come to work that day. Strangely, Sister Rong still didn't appear at her workplace the next day. At this point, the court leaders frowned. According to regulations, if an absence was due to official business, it should be recorded and reported. Such unauthorized absence without notification would be considered a serious breach of duty. Sister Rong, as a long-serving "veteran," shouldn't have made such a basic mistake, especially since the day after her investigation was scheduled for. The political department began searching frantically, using cell phones, landlines, and pagers, but to no avail: cell phones went unanswered; landlines went unanswered; pagers went unanswered as well. This alarmed all of us. Those of us who study law often have this nerve: if someone disappears without a trace for 48 hours, we start considering reporting them missing. The court leaders pooled their resources, trying to find Sister Rong. Someone suggested calling her husband to ask where she was; he also worked in the court system and would be easy to find. So the leaders contacted the court where her husband worked, and the answer they gave shocked us all: he hadn't been to work for several days either! We all fell silent. I could tell we weren't just trying to figure things out, we were completely stumped. On the morning of June 3rd, I rushed into the familiar XX Court, unsure whether I was eager to see if Sister Rong had arrived for work or because of a bad premonition—after returning home the previous night, I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, thinking about everything about Sister Rong. I felt that Sister Rong was definitely not the type to leave without saying goodbye, unless… unless she really had run away with that QQ guy—in short, I wanted an answer, and I felt that this matter would be resolved today. But when I met a colleague I was usually close to, the first thing I heard from him was something I simply couldn't accept—"Sister Rong committed suicide!" Sister Rong committed suicide! I could hardly believe my ears. "Impossible!" I roared. "It's true, everyone in the court knows now, it seems the body was found last night." He said solemnly. "…" That morning, the entire court didn't start work, but instead gathered in the largest conference room for a meeting. At the meeting, the dean announced Rong Jie's death, but made no mention of anything else, only saying that the police were still investigating. I knew that even if the investigation were completed later, someone of my rank wouldn't be able to get the whole story directly from them. The department's awards for outstanding employees were also temporarily suspended. Lao Shen, the head of the copywriting department who was second in the rankings, was still trying to get first place, but he was more low-key than before. He expressed his regret over Rong Jie's death, but I could tell it was just crocodile tears. A few days later, I learned another shocking piece of news from someone else—Rong Jie's son had also died from an illness.The illness predeceased Rongjie; and Rongjie's husband was criminally detained on charges of intentional homicide! How bizarre! Rongjie's son died first, from illness, then Rongjie inexplicably committed suicide, and her husband, the presiding judge of the civil division of the XX court, was criminally detained by the police for intentional homicide! This was utterly incomprehensible. I continued to press the person for details, but was told that this was all he knew so far, and I had to give up. For the next few days, everyone in the court was in a depressed mood, mostly grieving Rongjie's death, and some fearing a greater catastrophe might befall them. I, too, was in a daze due to Rongjie's death, completely out of sorts, and thus made many mistakes, receiving harsh reprimands from some of the "older" staff. After struggling for several days, I decided to resign. I couldn't bear the thought of looking up and seeing only the empty space beside Sister Rong's desk; of being reprimanded and having no one from Sister Rong to defend me; of thinking of Sister Rong and looking around, but never hearing her voice, her movements, her figure, or even smelling her… That day, as I was packing to leave, I happened to run into the director and several police officers who came to dispose of Sister Rong's desk, which had remained untouched since her death. The desk was locked, and after some effort, they pried it open and took everything of value: some documents, a notebook that looked like a diary, and Sister Rong's cell phone. I think that Sister Rong probably didn't take her phone with her when she left work on May 31st, and that she had switched it to vibrate mode, which is why we never answered her calls afterward. Before leaving, I asked a close friend in the hospital to contact me immediately if he had any news about Sister Rong, and he readily agreed. After returning home, I rested for several days. The past two years of work had truly exhausted me, and Rongjie's death only added to my despair. So, once I lay down, I fell asleep and never woke up. When I woke up, I vaguely felt that I saw Rongjie in my dream. She said something to me, but I couldn't hear clearly. One evening in July, my friend from the court called me, saying that Lao Shen from the document department had been "suggested" (actually "ordered") to retire early by the court. Immediately afterward, from the phone call, I learned the whole story—on the evening of May 31, 2009, after Rongjie finished get off work, she went to meet a man on QQ. The two then had dinner together and agreed to buy toys for Rongjie's son as a Children's Day gift for the next day. The two acted like a couple, shopping, eating, going to the mall, watching movies, etc. At this moment, what Rongjie didn't know was that her son had acute myocarditis due to a cold and was being treated in the hospital. Her husband couldn't contact her because Rongjie had put her phone in her desk and put it on vibrate. When Sister Rong returned home late at night, she learned of her son's condition from the community security guard. Because it was so late and the situation was urgent, she didn't hesitate and had the man she contacted on QQ escort her straight to the hospital. Although Sister Rong arrived quickly, it was too late. Due to the severity of his condition and his weakened state, her son succumbed to his illness. Sister Rong's son was dead; she didn't even get to see him one last time. Her husband stood in the corridor, sobbing uncontrollably. Her grandparents, uncles, aunts, and other relatives were also ashen-faced, weeping beside her. Sister Rong went to her son's bedside, which was already covered with a white sheet, knelt down, and wept bitterly, while the doctors performed the final procedures. The man on QQ, whether out of youthful naiveté or genuine belief that he was Sister Rong's only man, went straight into the ward to comfort her. This act inevitably led to his heavy price – Rongjie's husband, now like a ravenous beast, his eyes bloodshot, a far cry from his usual gentle demeanor, stormed into the ward in extreme rage and began fighting with the QQ man. Doctors and nurses rushed to intervene. During the struggle, Rongjie's husband grabbed a used scalpel from the surgical tray beside him and plunged it straight into the QQ man's chest. Blood gushed out immediately. The nurses were terrified and at a loss. Rongjie, supporting the QQ man, screamed, equally bewildered. Rongjie's husband stood frozen, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the QQ man lying in a pool of blood, panting heavily, unable to believe what he was seeing. Most of their relatives were stunned; the few who reacted only cried and screamed in incomprehensible words. Doctors rushed to resuscitate the man and called the police. The police arrived quickly, taking away Rongjie's husband and several relatives. They intended to take Rongjie with them for questioning, but she had already collapsed from exhaustion due to the multiple blows she had suffered. The police had no choice but to leave her at the hospital for treatment. It was June 1st, Children's Day. On June 2nd, Rongjie woke up, lying stiffly in bed. She wouldn't answer the nurses' questions, wouldn't eat, and spent much of the day simply weeping alone. The nurses who knew her were silently heartbroken, and her family members offered only quiet comfort. According to the nurses, Rongjie kept her eyes open almost the entire day, seemingly unable to blink, a heartbreaking sight. Because the incident happened so suddenly, no one knew the identities of Rongjie, her husband, or the man. When questioned by medical staff, Rongjie and her relatives remained silent, making it impossible to contact their workplaces. The police, too, found nothing: Rong's husband, perhaps because it was his first time experiencing something like this, remained stunned; the relatives who went with her could only say they worked at the court, but couldn't provide details about which court or what their jobs were. This explained why we couldn't contact them, and they couldn't contact us. Rong's death occurred at 11 PM on June 2nd; she jumped directly from the hospital roof. Although the hospital immediately attempted resuscitation, due to ruptured internal organs, massive bleeding in multiple organs, and fractures throughout her body, she ultimately died. I think Rong probably made this decision in a single day. During the day, she wept for her son, for her boyfriend, for her husband whom she didn't love but deeply loved, and for her own death. She chose death; it was her decision, her choice, and she should die without hesitation, without pain. News of Rong's death quickly reached her husband and the police; her husband immediately fainted. This time, the public security organs dared not be negligent and monitored the entire process of sending her to the hospital for treatment, fearing another suicide attempt. After Rongjie's husband woke up, he confessed everything he knew. On the other hand, the real reason for Lao Shen, the head of the document department, to retire early added a dramatic dimension to the entire incident. After Rongjie's death, the court cooperated with the police investigation while transferring and handing over Rongjie's work. At the same time, the court's competition for advanced personnel was restarted. Although the execution division where Rongjie worked was ranked first before her death, the court considered that Rongjie's death was due to suicide, and that further honors for Rongjie would have a negative impact. Therefore, the execution division was disqualified from the advanced personnel competition, and the vacancy was filled by a lower-ranked unit. As a result, Lao Shen's document department naturally rose to first place. With Lao Shen's "communication" with superiors and subordinates, coupled with his own seniority, he successfully won first place in the advanced personnel competition and thus obtained a promotion. However, fate is unpredictable. Just as Lao Shen was smugly awaiting the award, a middle-aged woman claiming to be the mother of a QQ male came to the courtyard. She insisted that she was a distant relative of Lao Shen, that she had been deceived by him, and that she had lost her son. The courtyard took this matter very seriously because it was related to Sister Rong's case. After a thorough investigation, Lao Shen, under pressure, confessed everything. It turned out that this woman was from the same village and had the same surname as Lao Shen back in his hometown. In some rural areas, there are villages with the same surname, such as Wangjia Village and Zhaojia Village. Lao Shen and this woman were both from Luojia Village in X Township. The reason Lao Shen later took the surname Shen, according to him, was that his father died early when he was young, and his mother took him away from Luojia Village and remarried a man with the surname Shen. Because Lao Shen was still young at the time, his mother simply changed his surname, abandoning Luo for Shen. The woman was indeed the mother of QQ Man, whose real name was Mu Zi, 30 years old. Having studied agriculture in university, he had stayed in the village after graduation, helping with the village and township land management departments, and had always lived in Luojia Village. The woman came to the courtyard because she received a call from the hospital that had given Mu Zi emergency treatment in the early morning of June 1st, only to learn that her son had died near the end of June despite all efforts to save him. Mu Zi's departure from the village was Lao Shen's doing. It turned out that Lao Shen had already contacted Mu Zi before the Spring Festival in 2008. Taking advantage of his past as a resident of Luojia Village, Lao Shen cultivated a close relationship with Mu Zi. During the Spring Festival holiday, Lao Shen made a special trip back to Luojia Village, ostensibly to visit his hometown, but actually to see Mu Zi. It was during this trip that Lao Shen...Old Shen told Mu Zi about his plan—how to distract Rong Jie from her work by having a third party enter her family, giving him an opportunity to take advantage of her—promising to cover all expenses and provide a huge reward afterward. Mu Zi agreed, and Old Shen gave him Rong Jie's phone number and contact information, allowing him to gradually enter her life as a stranger. As the only college student in the village, Mu Zi easily won over a young woman deprived of love. He not only successfully entered Rong Jie's life but also taught her how to use a computer, access the internet, log into QQ, and chat online. Mu Zi's mother witnessed everything, but a rural woman like her couldn't possibly understand the illicit affair between Old Shen and her son. She simply assumed they were discussing something important, and that her son was getting paid. Besides, she had seen Old Shen when she was young, so although she didn't understand, she actively participated. The reason Lao Shen brought Mu Zi to Shanghai in early 2009, offered her a job, and provided her with a monthly cash subsidy was twofold. First, Rong Jie's husband, unable to tolerate her online chatting any longer, dismantled her computer. This prevented Mu Zi from "confessing his feelings" to Rong Jie online, thus hindering Mu Zi from fulfilling the mission Lao Shen had assigned him. However, Rong Jie's husband's actions ironically benefited Lao Shen, as Rong Jie's subsequent "extramarital online affair" drew criticism from the hospital leadership, thanks to Lao Shen's report. Second, it gave him an advantage in the 2009 awards competition—Lao Shen wanted to use Mu Zi's direct face-to-face contact with Rong Jie to wear down her health and energy, preventing her from focusing on work and family, creating a predicament for her, and ultimately helping him gain an award and promotion! The person I saw under the overpass at the hospital gate was indeed Mu Zi, nearly four months after he arrived in Shanghai. Mu Zi was more like Lao Shen's informant, constantly monitoring Rong Jie and those around her. Naturally, Lao Shen knew exactly who came and went from Rong Jie's side. This explained why the dean was so certain I knew Rong Jie's address during the New Year's Eve dinner; it turned out Lao Shen had let it slip when he "reported" to the dean. But as the saying goes, things don't always go as planned. Lao Shen's plan was well-thought-out, but the situation was beyond his control: despite the ups and downs, Rong Jie's grades remained number one, and she managed to balance being with her lover and her son perfectly. Two weeks before the results were announced, Lao Shen had essentially given up on his chances of promotion; he had even prepared his speech as the runner-up. However, Rongjie's death ultimately led to his rise to the top, and promotion seemed within his grasp. But his joy turned to sorrow. He never imagined that Muzi's mother would travel thousands of kilometers from this remote village to Shanghai, to the hospital, and finally to him. It wasn't until the woman found Lao Shen that he learned of Muzi's death. This series of unexpected injuries and deaths also dulled his usual shrewdness, causing him to miscalculate Muzi's mother. After a three-day investigation, the police released him without charge due to insufficient evidence. The hospital, considering his contributions, allowed him to "voluntarily apply" for early retirement, thus avoiding dismissal. Lao Shen was 55 years old at the time. Meanwhile, with the court's assistance, Muzi's mother hired a lawyer to file a civil suit alongside the criminal case against Rongjie's husband, demanding compensation. It is said that when Lao Shen left the court, he kept muttering to himself, "How could this happen, how could this happen..." This information was compiled from the interrogation of Rong Jie's husband, the investigation into Rong Jie's death, the investigation into Rong Jie's superiors and some colleagues, and Lao Shen's personal account. It was then told to me by a friend of mine who worked in the court, and the truth finally came to light. According to that friend, almost everyone in the court knew about the whole incident, but the director gave them a strict order: details of the incident must not be disclosed to the outside world, and they must not give interviews to the media without authorization. It is said that when the police charged and turned on Rong Jie's phone, they found 19 missed calls and 16 unread text messages, almost all of which came from an undocumented number, which turned out to be her husband's phone number; and the phone number named "Husband" in the address book belonged to Mu Zi... If Rong Jie had been able to handle her personal problems properly and had not committed suicide, then at the age of 38, with her background as the head of the execution division of the XX court, and 17 years or more of development time remaining, her future would have been limitless. Everyone mourned Rongjie's death. In August 2009, the incident finally came to an end with the deaths of Rongjie's son, Rongjie herself, Muzi, Rongjie's husband's intentional homicide, Lao Shen's early retirement, and my resignation. Even now, when I occasionally think about it, I still feel lingering fear. Although I'm very fortunate that neither Muzi nor anyone else discovered my encounter with Rongjie that night, the thought of Rongjie's husband's crime of passion still fills me with dread. If Rongjie's husband had come home early that night, would I have been the one who died? If we hadn't gone straight into the campaign for being recognized as advanced workers after that night, and hadn't had time to think about anything else, and had continued our relationship, would I have been the one with Rongjie when her son died? If Lao Shen had discovered my encounter with Rongjie that night, what schemes would he have used against me? ...So many "what ifs" make me afraid to think about them anymore. Now, when dealing with relationships, especially with married women, my attitude is strong and resolute. There are only permissible and impermissible actions; I never involve the concept of "degree." One-night stands are the most convenient and uncomplicated quick fix, but I resolutely abandon any approach that might cause even the slightest trouble. To put it noblely, it's about being responsible for other people's families, for society, and for my own actions; to put it realistically—don't play with fire, or you'll get burned! [End of text]

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