The Story of the Tailor Shop

Sewing Village wasn't very big, maybe a thousand or so households, but in our mountainous area, it was considered a densely populated area. Plus, the land was relatively flat, so it was a place with relatively good living conditions. I grew up here. During the Cultural Revolution, Dazhuang was in turmoil, with a group of farmers' political enthusiasm at an all-time high, constantly lecturing with the Little Red Book. But in this mountain village, one courtyard remained relatively peaceful: the home of tailor Lao Mo. Because in those planned economy days, getting a piece of cloth to make a new outfit was nothing like it is now. Having money wasn't enough; you also needed cloth coupons. And even if you could buy the cloth, that wasn't enough, because the most respectable clothes back then were the Zhongshan suit. Buy it and sew it yourself? Don't be ridiculous! If you sewed a perfectly good piece of cloth into wrinkles, you'd be laughed at and heartbroken for the fabric! So, you had to find a sewing machine and sew carefully. Old Mo was the only formally trained tailor in Dazhuang. He was formally trained because he had been learning sewing from his father since he was 13. His father was a shop assistant in a clothing store in Shanghai before the liberation. After the liberation, the clothing store was first a joint public-private enterprise, but later fewer and fewer people made clothes, so they were simply laid off and sent back to their hometown. Old Mo's father secretly brought back a German sewing machine, which became a top secret treasure. He was afraid that people in Shanghai would find out where it was, so he kept it a secret from everyone. Until one day, an old man named Chen from the county's work team tore his old military uniform. Old Mo took it home and sewed it up. Old Chen was a worldly man and knew that this was no ordinary handicraft. Later, he sent fabric to the county comrades to make clothes several times, and his life was finally taken from darkness to light. Because he had latched onto the county's coattails, Old Mo no longer had to live in fear. Later, when the cooperative was established, the commune officially set up a sewing group for Old Mo. In an era when food rations were a problem, he could often get some white flour because he needed paste for making clothes and linings. This was undoubtedly the most impressive thing at the time. Because of this, Old Mo followed in his father's footsteps and joined the sewing group. Among the wives of the commune and production team cadres, he grew up to be a good young man. When the Cultural Revolution came, Old Mo fell ill and died, and Old Mo became the core leader of the sewing group. Those Red Guards, always fighting and killing, wore out their clothes quickly, and felt ashamed if they couldn't mend them properly. They were fearless except for Old Mo, and Old Mo's family had no shortage of girls coming to learn sewing from their "literacy classes," so the Red Guards were eager to curry favor. The story begins here… When Old Mo was still alive, he had seen Shanghai, so the women in the sewing group loved to ask him about it. He would inevitably embellish his stories, but when young Comrade Mo walked in, everyone would fall silent. The more they couldn't hear, the more they wanted to hear. The method, as you can imagine, was eavesdropping.
In that era of Mao Zedong's quotations and model operas, Old Mo's stories were undoubtedly quite explicit. The women were addicted like opium, and that's how young Comrade Mo received his puberty sex education. Later, Xiao Mo got married and had children, and Old Mo passed away, so Xiao Mo became Old Mo. Surrounded by women, it was commonplace for him to touch hands or breasts while sewing, though in those days it would still cause heated arguments, which Old Mo thoroughly enjoyed. Unfortunately, the wife Old Mo's father married was a sharp-tongued and shrewish woman. Her charm initially won him over, but after bringing her home, he discovered she was not only good at sweet-talking but also a master of arguing. Whenever she saw Old Mo getting close to someone, she would immediately resort to domestic discipline, causing Old Mo endless headaches. The wives of the neighbors, afraid of him and also wary of his culinary skills, could only swallow their anger.

Xiuhua from the neighboring village of Hongqi had wanted to learn sewing for a long time. Coincidentally, her second aunt lived next door to Lao Mo, and she begged her aunt to put in a good word for her with Lao Mo so she could learn. Her second aunt's husband, Lao Ye, reluctantly went to Lao Mo's house to inquire. Lao Mo was pondering when his wife lifted the curtain and came in. Previously, Lao Mo had wanted to build two rooms in the east wing, but worried that the yard would be too small and wanted to encroach on Lao Ye's yard by a meter. Lao Ye hadn't reached an agreement on the price, but Lao Mo's wife had taken it upon herself to dig the foundation, leading to a previous argument. This time, when Lao Ye came to ask for help, Lao Mo's wife naturally wouldn't let such a good opportunity pass, and they started arguing again. Because Lao Ye was asking for a favor, he naturally lost some ground, and Lao Mo's wife became increasingly agitated, eventually yelling, "I have three sons, and your cricket has not even a hair on its backside! (Lao Ye is an only son) I could beat you even if I beat you!" Old Ye, unable to bear it any longer, got up and stormed off, saying as he left, "Even a single hair on my head might not prevent me from having a grandson, and your three sons might not have any descendants to visit your grave! " He then left. Old Mo, feeling his wife had gone too far, quickly chased after him, telling him to just let Xiuhua come and ignore the woman's rant.

Old Ye returned home, still furious, and only after his wife repeatedly comforted him did he finally go to bed, still fuming. Xiuhua, unaware of the situation, begged repeatedly and finally came. Old Mo, feeling guilty about the previous incident, was extra attentive when teaching her. Xiuhua, a clever girl, eagerly did all the chores at Old Mo's house during the day, showing great insight. Soon, she not only won Old Mo's favor but also received praise from the other women. Old Mo's wife, on the other hand, was constantly finding fault. Although no one dared to say anything, they could only secretly encourage Xiuhua. Old Mo felt very bitter.

One day, Old Mo's wife overheard a folk remedy: dried mushrooms from the roof tiles, ground into powder, mixed with water and drunk, would cause persistent diarrhea until the person was completely emaciated and lost a lot of weight. It wouldn't kill, but there was no antidote. Old Mo's wife hatched a plan. She prepared the mushrooms from her roof tiles and put them in Xiuhua's enamel water container. Sure enough, Xiuhua soon started frequently going to the toilet. Her second aunt's husband gave her some medicine that afternoon, but it was to no avail. Old Mo's wife chuckled to herself. By evening, Xiuhua was too weak to stand, swaying unsteadily, almost dehydrated. As the saying goes, a thief will confess after three years if not punished. At dinner, Old Mo's wife finally couldn't contain herself, telling Old Mo about it while laughing uncontrollably. Old Mo, shocked, suddenly felt this woman was a stranger. He didn't even eat, wanting to hitch up a donkey cart and take Xiuhua to the county hospital. His wife, however, refused. He rushed forward to pull her away, and Old Mo slapped her hard across the face. Afterwards, he was filled with fear at his own audacity; he'd always let his wife do as she pleased, but today he'd actually hit her. As his wife sat on the ground, throwing a tantrum, Old Mo gritted his teeth, drove his donkey cart out the door, and spat out a sentence through gritted teeth: "Just you wait! God's watching!"

For three days straight, Old Mo and his wife, Old Ye, stayed at the hospital watching over Xiuhua. Finally, she slowly woke up. Old Ye rushed to call the doctor, and his wife, Old Ye's wife, said with tears in her eyes: "Xiuhua, you're finally awake! If it weren't for your Uncle Mo, it would have been all over. You fainted the day you got on Uncle Mo's cart, and it's been almost three days!" Xiuhua strained to lift her head to look at Old Mo, but Old Mo, knowing what had happened, lowered his head to avoid her gaze.

Xiuhua and Old Ye hadn't dared tell her parents about her hospitalization. After being discharged from the hospital and returning to Dazhuang, Xiuhua was met with a barrage of complaints from Lao Mo's wife. Xiuhua had no choice but to pack her bags and head home. Lao Mo chased after her, offering to take her home in his donkey cart. Xiuhua repeatedly declined, but finally agreed. As they left the village, Lao Mo suddenly handed Xiuhua 80 yuan. Xiuhua was shocked. Lao Mo explained the whole situation, adding that the 80 yuan was for Xiuhua to buy a sewing machine, and that Old Chen in the county would get the sewing machine ticket in a few days and deliver it. Xiuhua refused again, almost crying. Lao Mo sighed and began to recount his years with his wife and his own bitterness. Xiuhua's hands were sweating as she clutched the money. Listening to the man's heartache, she felt a pang of sorrow in her heart, as if... As if it were her own experience, after seeing her off, watching Lao Mo's departing figure grow smaller and smaller, Lao Mo in her heart grew larger and larger... A few days later, the familiar sound of bells stopped at Xiuhua's door. Lao Mo had indeed come. Xiuhua hesitated, but Lao Mo took her to the county without saying a word. When they returned, it was already getting dark. Xiuhua's parents were very surprised. At that time, the most impressive dowry was the "three turns and one sound" (a set of three rounds of jewelry and a small watch), which was a big deal. Lao Mo explained that it was Xiuhua's wages for working hard. Xiuhua's father insisted that Lao Mo stay for dinner before leaving, and Lao Mo had no choice but to agree. The two drank some sorghum wine, and it was already dark when they left. Xiuhua insisted on seeing him off to the end of the village, and Lao Mo had no choice but to agree.

Although Lao Mo was going home, sitting on the donkey cart, he felt like he was visiting a grave. Xiu Hua stared at him blankly. This 30-year-old man, although already a father of three, seemed like her older brother. Slowly, Xiu Hua leaned her head on Lao Mo's shoulder. Lao Mo's mind went blank. Xiu Hua's tears fell silently. Lao Mo felt a chill on his hand and then came to his senses. He asked, "Why are you crying?" Xiu Hua said, "Brother, I know you've had a hard life!" With a single word, "Brother," Old Mo drifted off into a daze, letting the donkey cart move on its own. When it finally came to a casual stop, Old Mo froze. They reached the bean field outside the village. The donkey was munching on the bean stalks, while Xiuhua was sobbing uncontrollably. Old Mo gently took her arm and soothed her. The crescent moon shone on the silent field. The aftereffects of the sorghum liquor kicked in, and Old Mo no longer cared about worldly matters. It was as if the world had shrunk to the size of the donkey cart. He suddenly kissed Xiuhua's eyes, then moved down...to her nose...to her soft lips. Xiuhua smelled the alcohol on his breath and his body odor, gasping for breath, and slowly fell back into the donkey cart, her heart filled with a sense of ecstasy. Fueled by the sorghum liquor, Old Mo, his hands trembling, reached for Xiuhua's heaving breasts, caressing her tender mounds through her clothes. A hard nipple slid within. Xiuhua gasped, letting out a muffled moan, one hand gripping Old Xie's arm, the other clutching the hem of her garment. She was expectant, yet also fearful. Old Mo, usually the most skilled seamstress, seemed to have encountered the greatest challenge in the world when unbuttoning Xiuhua's clothes. After a flurry of activity, he finally managed to undo the top three buttons, parting the front of the garment to reveal her small, delicate breasts. In the moonlight, they appeared so white, so perfect, so delicate, almost fragile. Old Mo felt a strange sensation.
The glittering Shanghai his father had described, the alluring socialites, the bawdy jokes of the women in the family's sewing group, his own shrewish wife—all the worldly concerns paled in comparison to this work of art before him! Old Mo felt an overwhelming surge of love within him; he wanted to cherish the woman before him! He took Xiuhua's nipple into his mouth, and Xiuhua arched her back like a bridge as if electrocuted, then slowly lowered it. Old Mo circled her nipple with his tongue, occasionally sucking on it. Xiuhua responded passionately, her hands groping wildly on Old Mo's back. In a panic, Old Mo took off his shirt, then removed Xiuhua's blouse and bra. The two embraced tightly once more, Xiuhua's breasts pressed against Old Mo's chest, like two freshly steamed buns, warm and soft. After a passionate kiss, Old Mo's penis was throbbing with hardness. He rolled off the bus, pulled down his pants, revealing his bright red penis. Xiuhua's eyes were tightly closed, her hands clenched into fists. As Old Mo unfastened her waistband, she was incredibly nervous—it was finally coming! As Xiuhua's pants slowly slid down with Lao Mo's movements, her previously unseen private parts were revealed to the man: sparse pubic hair, a soft and smooth abdomen like Japanese tofu, a mysterious triangle, and rounded legs—she was as beautiful as Venus. Lao Mo slowly parted Xiuhua's legs and climbed on top of her. Xiuhua bit her lower lip tightly, the love fluid flowing from her secret cave glistening like a crystal pearl. Lao Mo rubbed his glans against the entrance of her honeyed cave a few times, although Xiuhua unconsciously twisted... Her buttocks were also covered in slippery love juice. With a thrust, he penetrated her. Xiuhua shuddered and let out a hoarse cry, completing her transformation into a woman. Old Mo moved slowly, afraid of damaging the Venus beneath him. Xiuhua still bit her lower lip, enduring the man's magnificence. Under Xiuhua's tight embrace, Old Mo thrust faster and faster, finally his throat tightened, his waist arched, and he thrust all the way in, ejaculating his hot semen into the deepest part of Xiuhua's honey hole, collapsing slumped on top of her.

A few barks came from the direction of the village, followed by Xiuhua's father calling her. Xiuhua pushed Old Mo a few times. A night breeze swept by, and the slight coolness made Old Mo more awake. The person in front of him had eyes full of love. Old Mo had a feeling he had never experienced before, like the feeling of first love in a handwritten book. The voice was closer. The two hurriedly put on their clothes, reluctant to part. Xiuhua looked back every few steps, using a lot of strength, but only managed to utter a soft voice that only the two of them could hear: Brother! "I'll be yours for life!" she shouted, turning and running away. Old Mo stared blankly as Xiuhua ran off into the distance, his legs gave way, and he knelt down... It was already past midnight when Old Mo returned home. His wife opened the gate in a huff, cursing and questioning him, but Old Mo ignored her. He dragged his legs into the house and collapsed, his empty eyes staring at the oil lamp hanging from the rafters.

Twenty-five years have passed, and Lao Mo still hasn't been able to marry Xiuhua. Xiuhua's garment factory, however, is now renowned far and wide. Every day, she's busy dealing with government inspections, media interviews, and handling import and export, customs declarations, and taxes—like a sewing machine that never stops, turning at breakneck speed. Lao Mo's empty eyes stare at the ceiling light. He's had a stroke over a year ago, and after several relapses, even his speech is slurred. Half his body is stiff and trembling. He hears the sound of Lao Ye's grandson coming home from school, calling for food. He still hasn't been able to hold his grandson. His eldest and second sons both had two daughters, and even his third son's first child was a girl—five beauties in total. His third daughter-in-law refuses to get pregnant again, fearing that another girl would fulfill the curse her mother-in-law and Lao Ye had uttered during their argument. Lao Mo's wife has lost her former domineering spirit. She knows that Lao Mo's last breath is waiting for his third daughter-in-law's final act—to see if she can produce a boy.

A quack doctor arrived in the village, claiming to cure all ailments, from acupuncture and massage to internal medicine and gynecology. Old Mo's wife remembered the folk remedy involving earthenware mushrooms and quickly invited the doctor into their home. She told him her thoughts, but the doctor looked troubled and said, "Sister-in-law, you can't force a son or a daughter, but you can influence it scientifically—things like pH levels and fertilization positions." Old Mo's wife was stunned and immediately treated him like an honored guest, serving him food and drink. After dinner, she rushed to discuss it with her third son, who scoffed. She then tried to persuade her third daughter-in-law, who looked at her husband with a troubled expression. Old Mo's wife had no choice but to leave dejectedly. That evening, the doctor launched into another long, rambling tale, soon veerging onto the topic of fortune and destiny. He told Old Mo's wife, "To put it bluntly, your family has defied the natural order and won't have a grandson. But if the grandson is someone else's, perhaps things will change." "Your third son and his wife are both healthy, they just aren't destined to have a son!" Old Mo's wife nearly shoved her head into her legs upon hearing this. She didn't sleep a wink all night. The next morning, at the crack of dawn, she went to knock on her third son's door and practically dragged the couple to Old Mo's bedside. After a tearful outburst, her third son said, "Do whatever you want, I'm leaving." His wife, a timid person, surprisingly agreed after being bombarded by her mother-in-law.

The miracle doctor walked to the bedside in the west room. His wife lay there fully clothed, her face flushed. The doctor grunted and cleared his throat to break the awkwardness. His wife said, "Come if you want. I'm ovulating, this is my only chance. If I don't get pregnant, we'll just pretend we don't know each other." The miracle doctor looked at his wife's alluring figure and swallowed hard. He rummaged through the medicine box, pulling out bottles and jars, and busied himself for a while before undressing his third daughter-in-law. He then applied various medicines and fluids to her secret place. The third daughter-in-law turned her face towards the inside of the bed, humming softly. The doctor said that adjusting the pH balance would make childbirth easier, so he lay down on top of her and began to work. Her postpartum abdomen trembled with each movement, like a pool of water, her breasts swaying to her sides. The doctor thrust in and out vigorously, and the third daughter-in-law moaned softly. A dark member slid back and forth in her pubic area. After a long while, the third daughter-in-law let out a suppressed scream, her limbs straining as she climaxed. The doctor thrust in and out ten more times and ejaculated inside. Afterward, he made her lift her buttocks so her vulva faced upward to prevent semen from leaking out. He cleaned up the scene himself, glancing occasionally at the intoxicating secret place, feeling a thousand regrets, but still having to put on a show. After receiving a hefty reward from Old Mo's wife, he continued his travels.

After ten months of pregnancy and childbirth, the third son's wife gave birth to a daughter, feeling utterly ashamed. Upon hearing the news, Old Mo couldn't bear it any longer and died that very day. Old Mo's wife was devastated, but what could she do? It turned out that the miracle doctor had taken a stroll through the village that afternoon, having roughly figured out the curse that had plagued the Mo family for years. He planned to extort a large sum from Old Mo's wife, and after some scheming, he disappeared after obtaining both money and affection…

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The Story of the Tailor Shop

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