I only love your lower body (3)

5)
Paying to find a woman is called prostitution; finding a woman without paying is called a romantic encounter.

Most men who yearn for a romantic encounter are hoping for a miracle—that the woman in their encounter will have
the figure . Of course, the two types of women are fundamentally different, firstly physically, and secondly in their minds.
Finally, I set foot on Japanese soil. This small country that once ravaged the Chinese nation has, in just a few decades, surpassed
the great nation . While feeling indignant, I couldn't help but admire their economic acumen. Lying on my dormitory bed, lost in thought, I suddenly felt a
tiny bit of patriotism, and couldn't help but feel elated.
In this medium-sized fish processing plant, there are cheap Chinese laborers, earning nearly 60,000 yuan a year, which is considered good compared to China.
The dormitory, canteen, and workshop are all clean and tidy, with designated people cleaning daily. We are only responsible for our own work, working more than ten hours a day, with one day off
per week . I took a deep drag of my General cigarette—satisfying… This cigarette was mailed from China by a friend; it's Japanese, bland and tasteless, and damn
expensive. Waiting for letters and mail from home is always a source of anticipation; receiving the package feels like receiving a gift from my first love.
I remember the first three months after I arrived. Without women, I could manage, but without alcohol, it was truly oppressive. One day, while
sterilizing , I smelled the alcohol. I smacked my lips and inhaled the aroma intensely; my craving for alcohol was instantly awakened. Seeing that the supervisor wasn't
around, I put the spray nozzle to my mouth, took a couple of puffs, and smacked my lips again. Mmm, it really tasted good. The guy next to me saw this and imitated me, taking a couple of puffs.
He turned to me and said, “A can of beer here could buy a whole case back home, but not drinking it is really damn stifling.” We exchanged a
knowing . Yes, we came here to earn money; who would be willing to spend that kind of money?

But all that is in the past. In two months, my contract expires, and I'll be returning to W city. A few days ago, I had some accumulated vacation time, so
I went to Mount Fuji with some friends from the same factory. Mount Fuji is a symbol of Japan, standing at 3776 meters above sea level. It's the highest peak in Japan, revered by the Japanese as a "sacred mountain" and "the only
mountain." Coming to Japan and not visiting Mount Fuji would feel like a waste. Because I hadn't thought much about it beforehand, I was dressed rather lightly, and
by the time I was eating halfway up the mountain, I felt cold. The people sitting next to us were a man and a woman, chatting
intimately . I glanced at the woman; she looked to be in her early twenties, not quite thirty, her exact age obscured by makeup. The man looked to be in his late thirties or early forties
. They were both well-dressed, and the woman was gesturing with her hands as she spoke.
I turned to a colleague and asked, "How old do you think that girl is?" Before he could reply, I heard a woman's voice say dismissively, "It
's impolite to guess someone's age! Don't you understand?" Wow, she spoke fluent Mandarin. I was a little embarrassed and stunned.
The three of looked at the woman sitting next to us. She looked at me with sparkling eyes and said, "What are you looking at? I'm Chinese, of course I can speak Chinese." She smiled slightly,
revealing shallow dimples on her cheeks. The first sentence might have been a little hostile, but when she said "Chinese," I saw warmth in her eyes. I
said "sorry" awkwardly. After quickly finishing my noodles and paying the bill, my colleague and I continued hiking. I didn't feel cold anymore; my heart was warm.
It's so good to be young.

Because my contract was about to expire, the feeling of going home soon was relaxed and pleasant. So every weekend, three or five friends would get together and
go to a bar near the factory. Here, drinking inexpensive beer and watching the various women come and go has become our greatest weekend pleasure. They
wear low-cut dresses, swaying past each table, their eyes glancing at every man, occasionally leaning over to ask, "Lonely? Want me to keep
you company?" Looking at their half-exposed breasts, my answer is always the same: "No, thank you." I've endured almost a year of this; I won't
spend my hard-earned money on women, even though I long for a real body to satisfy my desires. But these women aren't what I want.
Most of the women who come to this kind of small bar are from Southeast Asia, and of course, there are some from China. They generally speak Chinese, and occasionally a few can say a few words of broken Japanese
or English. Since most of the customers here are workers from nearby factories, there are no language barriers to communication.
I was looking down at my plate, searching for a large peanut, when my friend nudged my arm. "Look, this girl looks familiar. I
feel like I've seen her somewhere before." I looked up and met her searching gaze, a hint of melancholy and indifference in her eyes. Her gaze lingered on me for less than
ten seconds before moving on to the bar. She sat down on a chair at the bar, ordered a lemonade, and sipped it slowly, seemingly waiting for someone.
Beneath her white suit was a curvaceous figure, her long hair still flowing over her shoulders, a slender waist, and thin shoulders. Her eyes reminded me of the snow atop Mount Fuji—
cold, yet alluringly proud. About twenty minutes later, a young man in his early twenties walked in. He wore a gray suit jacket and trousers from a nearby
food factory, and his shoes looked like they hadn't been polished in months. He sat down next to the woman and extended his left hand. The woman glanced at him,
took a wad of cash from her bag, and handed it to him, saying something coldly. "Okay, okay, I know." The man replied
impatiently .
The woman stood up, paid the bill, and turned to leave. The young man chased after her to the door and called out, "Sister, remember to come see me next month, don't keep hanging up on me." The woman
turned back, glanced at him, sighed,
and left. Her eyes held a hint of resentment and pity, but no warmth.

As I was reflecting on this, Da Li opened the door and came in. "Hey Lin Feng, aren't you bored staying inside all the time? Come on, let's go outside and relax." "Staying outside" is our
local dialect ; Da Li and I are from the same place, so we're considered fellow townsmen. I smiled at his well-dressed appearance. "What's up? You want to
completely relax this weekend again?" "I can't always do that, I have to save some money. I'm going home in two months." He chuckled. "A fellow
townsman called , inviting me out for drinks tonight. We haven't been there yet, but I heard it's a popular spot with lots of Chinese people. Want to check it out?"
Da Li, five years older than me, married, and from a well-off family, supposedly came to Japan to experience life. During his time in Japan, he never
left . He's not a big drinker, but he likes to have a little now and then, and when friends pressure him to drink, he always uses me as a shield.
It was a bit far, so we took a taxi. The whole street was lined with tea houses and bars. By the time we parked in front of the trees, the streetlights were already on
. As soon as we opened the door, Da Li's friend greeted us warmly, and we exchanged a few pleasantries. Da Li said, "Don't mention it, we're all family."
"Fellow villagers." The man who called himself Fan Ping laughed, "I like you just the way you are. You're right, we're all from the same hometown, so don't be shy. There are a few
friends are also from nearby. I organized a hometown gathering, so you two should come and join in the fun." "She led us inside as she spoke.
The song playing in the bar was Richie Jen's 'Too Softhearted,' which was the most popular song of 1996. We sat down by the window and introduced
ourselves . Everyone continued drinking and chatting.
As I drank and listened to Richie Jen's poignant singing, 'I'm always too softhearted, too softhearted…' my gaze lingered on the street outside the window.
Under the rows of streetlights, couples occasionally strolled by. 'Ah, Lvyun, you look so beautiful today!' a woman across from me exclaimed. This
drew my attention back from the window, and as I turned my head, I met the gaze of the woman who had just come over. A familiar yet slightly unfamiliar smile, faint and gentle. The woman called Lvyun
was the same woman I had seen twice, once at Mount Fuji and once at the bar. She greeted Fan Ping familiarly and then sat down next to the woman across from me. Da
Li whispered in my ear, 'This woman is not simple. She came to Japan alone first, and then brought her younger brother and sister with her.'" "I heard she's not
married yet, and she has this much money..." He gestured seven with his hand to show me. Then he added, "RMB, of course." I smiled at Da Li and
said, "What are you up to now? You've already missed your chance."
"A chance? I never even thought about it. The men around her could be counted by the bundle of beer. And not just one bundle. Plus, they're all
rich ." Da Li said to me in a low voice with a hint of regret.
"Really? Then why is she with us?" I asked, puzzled.
"It feels different. We're sitting together because we're from the same hometown, but those people are different. A lot of them are Japanese and foreigners." Da Li said, pursing his lips.
I carefully observed the woman across from me. Today she wore light makeup, without any heavy makeup, making her skin look even more radiant. Beneath her arched
eyebrows , her eyes were still so dreamy and unfocused. Lv Yun seemed to notice me too, and smiled at me, revealing her two shallow dimples
. I raised my glass, "I've met her three times. I never thought the world was so small."
"Yeah, I never thought so either." She clinked her glass against mine.
"Oh, you remember all that?" I asked.
"Mount Fuji, the bar, and this place," she said with a smile.
"Yes, yes, you have a good memory." It wasn't that I was trying to flatter her; I just hadn't expected her to remember everything.
"It's nothing. We're all Chinese, meeting in a foreign country naturally makes a deeper impression. You're welcome to come to Green Tree often."
"Come here? I'm just a worker; I can't afford to eat here," I replied self-deprecatingly.
"It's okay, it's free. We're all from the same hometown."
"Green Tree, that's this bar, it's Green Rhythm, it just opened less than a month ago," another woman across from me said with envy.
It was almost midnight, and everyone had drunk quite a bit. Da Li swayed and said to me, "I'm not going home to sleep tonight, you go home by yourself." "After saying this,
he swayed and leaned against a woman from his hometown, whispering something in her ear. The woman giggled, helped Da Li up, and left. Fan
Ping raised his foot to kick Da Li, but missed, muttering, 'You brat, always like this.' I hadn't drunk much, and my mind was clear. Looking at
all , it seemed like it had nothing to do with me. After that lesson, even in Japan, I didn't have much contact with women. I was afraid to see a woman's tears,
and even more afraid to recall Li Ping's expression of relief and joy when she woke up. So every time I masturbated, I told myself, 'Endure it, endure it, it'll be fine when I get home
.' Li Ping's two letters a month were my only spiritual sustenance. Having a woman waiting for you to return is a beautiful and hopeful feeling.
'Get away, I told you, don't bother me again.'" "A very indignant rebuke. I saw Fan Ping slump into a chair, followed by
the graceful figure of Lü Yun walking away.
Fan Ping, 1.75 meters tall, with regular features, was said to be a workshop supervisor in a Japanese factory. Coming from China, starting from odd jobs, not many people can become workshop supervisors in
factories , and he had been here for three years and was still single.
I went over and helped him sit down: "You've had too much to drink, have I taken you home?"
"Thank you, I can go home." His face clearly showed embarrassment at what had just happened.
Without saying more, Fan Ping got up, grabbed his coat, and left the bar.

Looking at the mess of tables and chairs, I casually straightened them. When I reached the third chair, I saw a pair of feet, not too big or too small, the part exposed
above was fair and delicate, long and slender, smooth and white. I straightened up and met Lü Yun's scrutinizing gaze. I coughed
and said, "You've all had too much to drink, making a mess of everything." "
If meeting Lvyun the first time was a coincidence, and the next two times were fate, then I thank God for letting me see more beautiful women.
Besides , every time I meet her gaze, my heart flutters slightly.
" "It's nothing, customers are always like this. This isn't their home, no one cares if they make a mess," Lvyun said casually.
"Yeah, that's true," I replied. "It's too late, I'm going home too."
"Oh, get some rest. It was nice meeting you." I couldn't read her eyes, whether she was happy or unhappy, too unfocused, a little unpredictable.
"Goodnight." I grabbed my coat and headed out.
"Lin Feng..." Lvyun's voice.
At the bar entrance, I turned back.
"Want to come for a drink next weekend?" she said slowly. "I hope you'll come."
My heart skipped a beat. "Okay, sure, I'll come when I have time." "After saying that, I pushed open the door and walked out of the bar.

In the morning, I stroked my lower body, gradually increasing the speed. With my eyes half-closed, a shadow was leaping in my mind—it was Green Rhyme.
Taking a deep breath , in that moment of smoothness, I suddenly wanted to touch Green Rhyme's smooth calves."

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