Chapter One of Melting Love

Chapter One:
The moonlight was cold and clear.
Inside, the room was chilly.
Just past ten o'clock, Shen Xiang returned home. He politely declined the invitation from the young female owner of the cake shop where he worked to have a late-night snack, and hurried home on his bicycle under the stars.
Today was important; it was the forty-ninth day since his father's passing. It was said that this was the last day his soul returned home before heading to the Bridge of Helplessness to be reincarnated.
Of course, this was just a folk belief and not important, especially to him, an atheist college student, who considered it utter nonsense. Even so, tonight was still important because at this moment, in this cold and quiet house, only his mother was there. His mother, having finished her night shift, was probably drinking heavily again, perhaps already drunk and incoherent.
The young man knew this without even looking, because his mother was almost always like this. He was used to it.
No one is an isolated individual; everyone is inevitably connected to others. These people might be close relatives, devoted partners, or even one's own children. Therefore, it's natural to remember the past and cherish the memory of deceased lovers or relatives.
However, nothing should be done in excess; moderation is key. Shen Xiang only recently learned this and deeply understands it.
He doesn't understand, he's so confused. He doesn't understand how his mother, who is usually so self-disciplined, such a well-maintained head nurse, such a beautiful and gentle middle-aged woman—a person who is good in every way—could become like a werewolf seeing moonlight on special nights, when she's alone and the night is quiet. She becomes utterly irritating, disheveled, and an alcoholic.
Yes, since his father's sudden passing, his mother has been in this state, numbing herself with alcohol, living a life of despair.
On this special day, Mother must be remembering Father in her own way, drinking and laughing with her husband until they're both drunk.
But the lovers of yesteryear are now separated by death, leaving only sorrow and longing, never to meet again!
I took the key, opened the door, and the house was indeed dark, filled with a pungent, lingering smell of alcohol. It was hard to imagine that this was once the home of a happy family of four—Father, Mother, and their siblings, all together in harmony. And of course, there was their grandfather, who had passed away from cancer over a year ago. People are gone, things have changed.
The pillar of the family is gone; the family is almost collapsing, with no one to support it.
Thinking about this, a bitter feeling welled up inside me, like eating a piece of dark chocolate—without sweetness.
A loud crash, as if something had fallen to the ground, a crisp sound.
It was from the bedroom, Mother's room.
Without even changing his shoes or taking off his coat, the young man rushed towards the sound to find his mother.
A wine bottle had broken, spilling glass everywhere.
Shards of glass were scattered around her feet—a dangerous situation! But she seemed oblivious, still "carefree" as she poured herself a half-empty glass of wine, completely absorbed in her drink.
He went over and quickly moved one of his mother's legs aside to prevent her from getting hurt, then turned and left the bedroom to go to the bathroom to get a broom to clean up.
"Guofeng...hehe, is that you? You're back! Today's the day you come home! You know, you used to not let me drink, afraid I'd drink too much and it wouldn't be good! Actually, I can hold my liquor pretty well. Before we got married, my sister and I would get my brother-in-law drunk, and he'd always tease me and bully me, humph! That time I taught him a lesson, and if he didn't behave, I'd get him drunk again! Now that we're married, you're always controlling me. You have no idea how much...hiccup...how much I can drink, how much I'm hiding, haha, you silly goose! But I'm happy today, come on, drink! Cheers!" In the dark, silent bedroom, a person was talking to the air, muttering to themselves, sometimes chuckling foolishly. The scene was rather eerie, unsettling.
But she was his mother, talking to herself, acting crazy, drowning her sorrows in alcohol. As her son, what could he do?
The clattering of shards of glass couldn't drown out his mother's incessant chatter. Even bent over, sweeping the floor, Shen Xiang could hear her clearly.
It seemed his mother's feelings ran deep; it seemed she still couldn't forget him! One could even say that in these thirty-five days and nights, in this empty room, his mother hadn't forgotten his father in the slightest, hadn't erased his image from her mind in the slightest, and might even have remembered him more vividly.
This only made her more pitiful and rather helpless.
So, the young man shook his head, picked up the collected glass shards, and went out.
There was another sound of vomiting…
He had just cleaned the floor and gone out to pour himself a cup of tea when trouble struck again, one after another.
Shen Xiang, holding the glass, went back into the bedroom and was shocked to see a large puddle of filth, yellowish and sticky. Even more troublesome was that, amidst this mess, a person was half-lying down!
Mom vomited, and all over herself!
Shen Xiang rushed to his mother's side, immediately assaulted by a pungent odor mixed with the strong smell of alcohol. His mother was practically beyond redemption; her blue nightgown was stained with vomit, a large patch clearly soaked through. Her arms and legs were also wet and yellowish. She seemed oblivious, just groaning incessantly. This was terrible
! Finally, the young man frowned, helpless. But he couldn't
blame anyone; if he had known, he would have gone home earlier to care for his mother. It was
all his fault for being careless!
Now, who would clean up this mess? His sister was gone—on an international flight, across the ocean, impossible to reach. A waitress? There was no one on duty 24/7 to serve him. The mess before him and his mother's soiled clothes gave him a real headache. He could only sigh again, utterly helpless.
"It stinks! What's that smell? It's disgusting! Guofeng, I want to sleep. Help me take off my clothes so I can sleep..." She wriggled a few more times, like an earthworm rolling on the ground, spreading even more of the filthy stuff, making the situation worse.
This wouldn't do; he had to act decisively! Seeing his mother like this, completely dazed and writhing on the ground, not staying still at all, and about to expand the disaster area, making it increasingly difficult to clean up, Shen Xiang made a decision in the next second. He
bent down, picked up the conservatively dressed body, lifted her up by the waist, and walked out of the bedroom.
Holding a woman was a first for him.
Holding his mother was an even bigger first for him.
The mother in his arms, though her body was covered in filth and grime, and smelled sour and pungent, the young man could still feel it. He had a delicate touch, able to perceive the freshness of a body, soft and warm. Of course, this wasn't intentional; he was passively receiving her, his mind free of any lewd thoughts. He
held her in his arms, one hand on her knees, the other on her shoulder. As he moved, he could feel the warmth of her body, slightly hot, perhaps from the alcohol she had just drunk. He could also feel the fullness of her body, plump and fleshy, her skin snow-white, smooth and delicate like silk, incredibly pleasant to the touch.
His mother, perhaps sensing the presence of a warm, firm chest beside her, felt a little more secure. She unconsciously shifted her body a few times, leaning closer to him, as if seeking safety.
It's clear that a woman without a man to rely on will feel insecure and empty inside.
The short distance felt like an eternity. Finally reaching the sofa, Shen Xiang bent down again and gently placed his mother on it, letting her lean against it. He was careful, afraid her legs would soil the sofa cushions; if that happened, she would definitely scold him in the morning and wouldn't let him off easily.
He knelt down and rinsed a towel in the water, cleaning the stains from his mother's legs. They were clean and soft again. But… but what about the stains on her nightgown and the front? Men and women shouldn't touch each other. Although he was her son, he was an adult. He couldn't just undress her and wipe her body directly, could he?
That would be too impolite, too improper!
So, Shen Xiang started fidgeting again, his brow furrowed, pacing back and forth, deep in thought, clearly troubled.
"Ah...it's so hot! It's uncomfortable!" His mother wasn't asleep, but she wasn't fully awake either, dazed and confused. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but it made her extremely uncomfortable and hot. As she spoke, she suddenly did something unexpected, something that caught the young man completely off guard. She actually... reached for her shoulder with one hand, grabbed the bra strap, and started to pull it down!
The thin fabric slipped off without any resistance, sliding smoothly down her shoulder.
Then...no, not then! This wouldn't do! Shen Xiang reacted quickly, leaping forward and reaching out to stop his mother, to stop her from taking that step. Otherwise, if he were even a fraction slower, there would be irreversible consequences.
If she saw something she shouldn't have seen, that would be a terrible sin!
However, it was too late. His movements were fast enough, but they couldn't outrun gravity. The thin fabric of his mother's dress was too smooth and light. He was only a little too late; when he grabbed her arm with one hand, he inevitably lost sight of her. He managed to stop her from moving further, his fingers leaving the strap of her nightgown, but he could only watch helplessly as the strap slipped down uncontrollably, floating away like a kite with a broken string, losing its physical support.
A snow-white, high-set area peeked out, like a crescent moon peeking out shyly, rising and falling slightly with her breath. Her cleavage was deep, and two large, prominent, dark purple nipples were faintly visible through the thin fabric, trembling and swaying with an alluring glow, like a woman half-concealing her face.
Silent and unassuming, without a deafening roar or the cacophony of street vendors, in his own living room, beside the sofa, the quiet was enough to captivate the young boy's senses and attention.
His body froze, like a puppet.
His eyes were fixed, glued to one spot.
The boy was having thoughts—the thoughts of a man!
His mother's breasts, her nipples, were so beautiful, so alluring, so irresistibly tempting! He swore that this was one of the few truly beautiful things he had ever seen since he could remember, so many things in this world, and it was so close, so close that he could see the blue veins beneath her skin, every inch of skin on her breasts, every detail, so clearly, right before his eyes!
His mother's two large breasts were quietly displayed there, soft and full. Whether Shen Xiang wanted to look or not, or whether he stared at them intentionally or unintentionally, the half-exposed white breasts attracted him, making his mouth dry and unable to ignore them.
He had suckled on his mother's breasts before, when he was a child, smacking his lips with longing. He had also read those erotic books before. In his twenties, how could he be so honest and well-behaved? He also had an uncontrollable restless heart of youth, and he also had his mind wandering to those erotic and decadent images, becoming extremely excited. The woman's high and conspicuous breasts, which were called "tits" in the vulgar words of the books, were so exciting! Whenever he saw this key part, when the woman's two swollen mounds of flesh were called "tits," he would inevitably get excited, with male desire and impulse, his hormones would explode, and he would involuntarily touch his own hard parts, feeling a tingling sensation that lingered for a long time.
Indeed, he was in that state again, a warm current swirling within him, both swollen and hot.
This warmth gradually caused a noticeable change in a certain part of his body—a prominent, large, and hard bulge.
The masculinity of a man, the vigor of youth, was unparalleled!
Mother and son remained in that position, in that state, for a long, silent, and lingering time.
Suddenly, Shen Xiang shook his head, immediately banishing those inappropriate, filthy thoughts from his mind, completely blocking them out. At the same time, he fiercely cursed himself; he was truly a shameful, despicable creature, to have such thoughts about his mother—how shameless! There was no
time to lose; he needed to be completely sober and quickly clean his mother up, otherwise, things might escalate further and cause even more trouble.
Fortunately, she vomited some, so it seemed her stomach was clear. She didn't have any further reactions or discomfort, which relieved the young man somewhat. Now, all he needed to do was clean her up, then help her to bed so she could sleep peacefully.
Of course, he would still watch over her that night, staying by her bedside without leaving her side.
Only then could he feel at ease and at ease. He pursed his lips, gritted his teeth, and made a huge decision in his mind, struggling with himself for a while before taking his next step. He reached out and straightened the straps of her nightgown on her bare arm, restoring it to its original position.
So be it, dirty or not, he couldn't care less. Maybe she would sober up in the middle of the night and clean herself; he didn't need to worry about her. This was the biggest concession he could make to his mother. He could compromise and tolerate anything about her.
A son doesn't despise his mother for being ugly!
Her man, her man really came back, caressing her. Just now, didn't he hug her? This warmth, this tenderness, it's him, the young him!
She had drunk alcohol, strong liquor at 52 proof, but she wasn't drunk. Yes, not drunk! Just moments ago, she and her husband had been frequently raising their glasses, clearly seeing the liquid in the transparent glass shimmering slightly, clearly feeling the spiciness of the liquor, slightly sweet, hot, and making her feel dizzy—it felt wonderful.
She had also clearly seen him, and he was looking at her too, hands behind his back, a slight smile on his face.
This was why she liked to drink, even to the point of being tipsy. The pure aroma of the liquor, and the numbing effect on her spirit, always gave her something extraordinary, something others couldn't understand. Only she, with her heart, with longing, and with a complex mix of guilt, could perceive his presence, his return—a reality so close at hand.
Now, everything is alright. He's home, back by her side. Let's pretend nothing happened. It's all just a passing cloud. His indifference, his aloofness—she can ignore it all. It doesn't matter, as long as he still wants her, as long as he's willing to reconcile. She'll forgive and forget. She
feels his warmth, his touch on her arm—is he undressing her? Is he trying to get close again? How wonderful! It must be. Seeing her sexy tonight, in the thin nightgown she'd specially prepared, he couldn't resist, desire arose.
Her eyes narrowed to slits, making everything blurry and indistinct. But that familiar face appeared magnified before her, his features clearer than before, impossible to ignore.
Just like before, just like when she was young, a young woman experiencing her first stirrings of love, when she first met him.
She longed to touch him, to possess him again.
At the same time, this also fulfilled the regret of several months, making up for the lack of a proper intimate moment between the couple.
Perhaps after resting for a while, the fatigue from vomiting had subsided, and she had regained some strength. This made the woman lying on the sofa raise her hand, almost repeating the previous action, to take off her nightgown. However, this time, she still didn't look. The woman's target was not the thin fabric, but the large hand on it, warm, broad, and with a great sense of security, making her feel at ease.
Between husband and wife, the most intimate touch is nothing more than the most direct physical contact, the most intimate caress. She wanted it!
"Guofeng, touch me, take me, I really want you to love me again, I really want it! Those things really weren't my intention, I really did it for our family, for the children! I want... I want to do better for you, I..." The mother's hand was warm and delicate, but also surprisingly strong. It was basically using brute force, and she couldn't break free. She could only let her hold it tightly, letting her do as she pleased.
The silhouette, so close yet so strikingly similar, could indeed confuse a drunkard, making it impossible to tell them apart.
He and his father were remarkably alike; one could say he was a carbon copy of his father in his youth, with the same thick eyebrows, large eyes, and pleasing appearance.
And surely, his mother must have fallen head over heels in love with his father back then? Even now, nearly thirty years of deep love, the memory remains unchanged.
Without noticing, momentarily distracted, the young man's hand inadvertently brushed against something soft, warm and plump. He felt his large hand, his palm completely out of his control, enter a warm space, unable to escape.
He forgot to pull out, and the person holding his hand tightly wouldn't let him out either, still holding on firmly, refusing to let go.
The breast—it was his mother's! The smoothness of his hand was that of his mother's breast!
Smooth, warm, with a woman's unique tenderness, the touch was exquisite.
Undeniably, in this instant, this was only the second time in Shen Xiang's twenty-two years of life that he truly understood what "dizziness" meant and what it felt like.
Dizziness and bewilderment, utter helplessness.
The first time was upon receiving the devastating news of his father's sudden death; it was a feeling of the sky collapsing, of darkness before his eyes, of everything—people, cars, the teacher's eloquent lecture on the platform, the students' frantic writing, the rustling sound of pens on paper—all becoming distant and indistinct, as if they didn't exist.
And the second time was now, in this very situation. Was his mother still rambling in her drunken state? Still pouring out her heart? No, he couldn't hear her! Was his mother still thinking of his father, still deeply attached to that man? Perhaps, he didn't care! Was his mother still caught up in her drunken state, still focused on the past, unwilling to move on? Perhaps, he didn't want to interfere!
Now, his hands and his thoughts were like another straight line connecting them, tightly binding all his senses and ideas together, inseparable. The warmth of his hands transmitted to his brain, and a voice told him, a force urged him, not to take it off, not to move it away, just stay a little longer, touch it again, and experience that forgotten feeling and wonder from childhood once more! It will be alright soon…
Mother's breasts, soft and smooth, Mother's breasts, large and full, how wonderful!
Some things, whether you accept them or not, intentionally or unintentionally, once they stride confidently into your life, right under your nose, within your tolerance, they come with unstoppable force, absolutely impossible to resist with normal logic or normal thinking, sharp and swift.
Like drugs that make people turn pale, like love that makes people unable to extricate themselves, love at first sight.
Clearly, this innocent young man's body was honest; it wouldn't lie to him. The lust he had forcibly suppressed earlier had returned, and it was even more intense, assaulting him wave after wave, irresistible.
Yes, at this moment, in this situation, nothing in that confined space, in the warm warmth of his crotch, could stop his restless penis from softening or calming down.
His erection wasn't due to urinating urges, nor was it a morning erection, a physiological reaction of a young boy; it was truly because of a woman, a woman's full, warm body, and the connection between the sexes.
Moreover, this woman was his mother, the only woman he both loved and respected, and even feared a little.
How unbelievable, yet so real, so undeniably real and happening!
The boy, still wet, pressed against the fabric of his pants, hard and erect, his hand still clutching that soft, warm, soft breast of his mother. It was undeniably quite comfortable; he didn't want to move.
"Guofeng, like this...don't go, just hold me like this..." his mother murmured again, her low voice filled with need for her partner. Then, perhaps feeling it wasn't enough, not secure enough, or perhaps feeling cold, her boneless body leaned closer to her son's thigh, seeking warmth, seeking the security she craved, the haven of her heart.
Her face pressed against someone's thigh, a large hand resting on her breast, in the space of her heart, this head nurse, who had tormented herself all night, this poor woman who could only intimately meet her man in her dreams, finally pursed her lips, shifted her head, adjusted her sleeping position, and drifted off to sleep.
Mom, you are so beautiful, so very beautiful.
So, he turned on the TV, but kept the volume down to the minimum. The boy knew this was his mother's old habit of watching TV, her head resting on her father's lap, and falling asleep while watching. She would often watch TV in a daze, only half-listening to the dramas. When she woke up, she would open her sleepy eyes, still groggy, and couldn't quite explain what had happened. In her sleep, she would even snore, like a little pig, which was quite cute.
Since his mother had finally fallen asleep and gained a sense of security, Shen Xiang didn't want to cause any more trouble. Carrying her back to the bedroom and waking her up again might lead to a fuss, or she might demand alcohol, which would be a real hassle. Rather than that, it was better to sleep with his mother there, with him as her pillow, letting her sleep soundly.
Just moments ago, he was standing when he suddenly turned and plopped down on the sofa, barely managing to pull his hand away. This showed that his mother was still holding on tightly, very reluctant to let him go, or rather, reluctant to let go of someone else. He knew this very clearly.
And he also knew that at that very moment, the instant his palm separated from his mother's soft, warm breasts, those full, rounded breasts, a wave of loss and regret washed over him. He felt a pang of sadness, like a child being sent to kindergarten, leaving his mother's familiar embrace, mistakenly believing he was saying goodbye and would never see her again, feeling dejected.
Perhaps this was the first and last time; there would be no more.
His mother's breasts, so beautiful, so sacred, so inviolable, how could they belong to him, her son?
So, he had clearly heard a sigh just now, a sigh that came from the deepest part of his heart, a sigh he had never paid attention to before, a sigh that came from an unknown crack, extremely faint, almost inaudible.
However, the young man was still at ease, a sense of tranquil peace and contentment washing over him.
Now, this woman, quiet and serene like a graceful and beautiful cat, lay on his lap, nestled against him, sleeping sweetly.
Now, by the dim light of the television, he could quietly gaze at this woman. For the first time, so close, with such a wonderful opportunity, he could properly observe his mother. Before, when he was in school and living at school, he hadn't had time. It wasn't until university, and after his father's sudden passing, that he made a point of spending time with his mother on nights when his sister wasn't home, to alleviate her loneliness.
He then realized that although his mother looked slightly tired and weathered, likely due to the heartbreak caused by his father's sudden departure, her gentle and graceful demeanor still shone through. While her appearance wasn't the kind that immediately captivated or made one fall in love at first glance—unlike his aunts, who were clearly intelligent and capable women with the boldness and shrewdness of professional women, both outstanding and radiant—his mother was more comforting. She exuded a warmth that could comfort everyone. Even when she sat quietly, without saying a word, she gave those around her a sense of security and reassurance. Perhaps this was because she was a nurse and knew how to care for people; it was simply her profession.
Despite her poor condition, her mother's skin was still undeniably delicate and smooth, with a rosy glow. This fair complexion was a natural gift, her skin was naturally beautiful, exquisite and moisturized! The blush on her skin was from the wine she had just drunk; it was a lovely pinkish hue that he also loved.
Now, for some reason, his heart, his eyes, all his senses were focused on his mother. Her sleeping face was peaceful, her lips were pink and slightly pouting, and she was still breathing warm air from them, tickling him. Because he was looking down, very close, only a finger's width away, he could feel the soft, comfortable touch on his face.
He reached out and pulled the blanket on the sofa up further, covering his mother completely to keep her warm. Then, Shen Xiang lowered his head even further, his face almost touching hers, his nose almost touching hers, so intimately close.
Without thinking, he pouted his lips, and a kiss, completely unintentional, landed on his mother's full, plump lips.
The first kiss was beautiful, and Shen Xiang was willing to give everything beautiful to his mother, the woman he would unconditionally love for the rest of his life, selflessly dedicating himself to her.
"Mom, from now on, let your son take good care of you, cherish you, and love you dearly, okay? Your son will never let you suffer like this again, Mom, I promise!" He raised his hand and neatly tidied his mother's slightly messy short hair, the young man speaking softly, as if to himself.
His whispered words, unnoticed even by himself, were incredibly gentle, delicate, tender, and deeply affectionate.
Yes, from now on, he's willing to be his mother's human pillow, letting her sleep soundly; from now on, he's willing to be her hangover remedy, keeping her alert and rejuvenated; from now on, if possible, he's willing to be the only man by his mother's side, offering her a shoulder to lean on, giving her the strength she's lost, helping her to rise again and become strong once more.
The young man didn't notice the gentle words, but his belief—what he wanted to achieve, his mother's well-being—was exceptionally clear and unwavering. He knew that this was the path ahead, that mother and son would walk side by side, relying on each other.
Loving his mother is an endless road of happiness, and he's willing!

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Chapter One of Melting Love

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