I drugged my uncle and seduced him into incestuous sexual acts.

It was a summer night, the air conditioner was blowing a cool breeze, and the television screen flickered with images of men and women in colorful clothes. Only the two of us were home, making the space feel incredibly empty. My uncle was watching TV, chatting casually with me. I leaned forward a few times, but then sat back down: I just couldn't bring myself to seduce this man I'd always considered a father figure. But for my aunt… I thought of my beloved aunt, and my resolve to back down slowly resurfaced.
I got up, added some aphrodisiac powder to two glasses, and then filled them with red wine. As I handed the glasses to my uncle, who was sitting upright on the sofa, my hands trembled slightly. My uncle looked at me with surprise: "Why the sudden interest?" I forced a smile: "Red wine can prevent cardiovascular disease and is also good for your skin. So I decided to drink a little every day." He smiled, the kind of smile one gets when passively participating in a child's whim, took a sip, and praised: "It tastes good." My heart pounded wildly: one, two, three… I counted in my mind, waiting for that moment, the moment when I would see him as a man instead of an uncle, the moment when he would see me as a woman instead of a niece.
It felt like an eternity, everything before me slowly receded into the distance, the men and women on TV suddenly seemed more pleasing to the eye, and when I looked at him again, his eyes were bright and shining as he looked at me. For the first time, I felt that this man, seven years older than me, possessed an unusual handsomeness. I slowly moved closer to him. He hesitated, a mixture of longing and avoidance in his eyes. I whispered, "Love me just this once." His arms finally wrapped around me against my will, and I saw the struggle in his heart. However, the drug overwhelmed him, and we embraced tightly. His lips burned as he pressed down on me, panting, "Ruolan, my little darling." When the passion subsided, his eyes cleared, and he pounded his head, "How could I do this?!" I feigned seriousness, "I was wrong too." His hands convulsed, pulling away. I retreated to my room, staring blankly at my computer. The scene from a month ago was still vivid in my mind
… The teahouse in the small county town was decorated in an ambiguous manner. The private rooms, their doors tightly shut, catered to many lonely men and women, but like all such places, the rooms weren't very soundproof. So, when I saw my aunt looking around warily at acquaintances as she approached the teahouse, my legs involuntarily followed her inside. I went upstairs, then upstairs again, and heard my aunt softly asking from the third-floor door, "Where's room number 8?" I waited quietly for a while at the corner of the stairs on the second floor before going up. "Is room number 7 taken?" I sat down in room number 7, pressed my ear to the door, and my aunt's suppressed laughter from room number 8 clearly reached my ears. It was a series of sweet nothings that made my heart race and my ears burn, the sounds of kisses, and suppressed breathing. The steps of an adult couple were playing out right before my eyes. I suddenly felt nauseous, couldn't finish my tea, and rushed out of that oppressive teahouse.
Back home, watching my uncle's apron-wearing figure busy in the dining room through the door, I suddenly felt like crying. Although my aunt and uncle were only five or six years older than me, having studied with my aunt since childhood, I had always considered this house my warmest home, and I had always been attached to my uncle as if he were my father. My uncle saw me and smiled indulgently, "Do you know what I made today? Your favorite stir-fried green beans! Look how fresh they are, just picked." I forced a smile. My uncle said, "Your aunt has a business dinner today and won't be back. Let's eat." I stared blankly at my uncle as he placed the plate of green beans in front of me: What kind of man does my aunt want? A man who loves and cherishes her so much, even her niece, isn't he worthy of her affection?
When my aunt returned that evening, the dim light couldn't hide the spring in her eyes. I lay on the sofa watching her walk over naturally, her hand hooking around my uncle's neck as he sat on the armchair, her fingers affectionately brushing the hair from his forehead: "What did you eat tonight?" I was puzzled: What was my aunt up to? In the days that followed, my aunt's "business dinners" increased, yet she never came home later than 10 pm, never went out on weekends, and even became more intimate with my uncle. I couldn't understand it, I really couldn't understand it. I finally couldn't hold back anymore. That night, I waited at the entrance of the residential area. At 5:50 p.m., my aunt got out of that man's car. I silently blocked her way.
I asked my aunt, "Why?" My aunt sighed, "You don't understand!" I stubbornly said, "Tell me, and I'll understand." My aunt pondered, carefully choosing her words, "Your uncle is a good man, and I love him very much. It's just that being with him is too dull. It's like staying in the same room every day; it drives you crazy. I need to go out for a walk before coming home." I stared at my aunt, dumbfounded: What kind of theory is this? If all couples in the world had this kind of theory, then why get married at all? My aunt patted my head, "You wouldn't understand even if I told you." Saying this, she led me upstairs, and suddenly, as if remembering something, took out a watch from her handbag, "Look, I bought this for your uncle, isn't it beautiful?" My hand felt her hand, warm and dry; my heart clearly felt: the sweetness in the corner of her eye when she looked at the watch was not faked.
From that night on, I dreamt every night that my uncle was going to divorce my aunt. My aunt and I knelt before him, crying and begging him to change his mind. But he refused, roaring in fury, "I've never wronged you, yet you did such a thing!" Night after night, I suffered terribly. Every night when I woke up, I couldn't help but walk barefoot out, looking at each room: having lost both parents at a young age, I was raised not so much by my grandmother, but by my aunt, who was like a sister and a mother to me. My first pencil was sharpened by my aunt; she tied my red scarf for me for three years; she took me to the store to buy sanitary products for my first period; she bought me dresses with the money she earned tutoring in college, and at that moment I decided that wherever she went, I would follow her, never, ever to be separated.
Before I even graduated from college, my uncle was already married, and this house was also acquired. Back then, I was still in university in the provincial capital. My aunt called, asking me in detail about the arrangement of my room… Yes, this is my home, with my room, and with an older couple who love and cherish me, whom I love and respect. I can't imagine this home without either of them. So, I bought some medicine powder and that bottle of red wine. I had been planning this scene all along, and I finally did it.
My heart calmed down slightly: I just wanted my uncle to know that he had wronged my aunt, I just wanted him to know that sometimes people can't control themselves. That way, if that day in my dream comes true, my uncle can forgive my aunt just by seeing me. Maybe others won't believe it, but I know deep down that I have an inexpressible love for this family.

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I drugged my uncle and seduced him into incestuous sexual acts.

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