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It's Mid-Autumn Festival again.

I dragged a suitcase and slung a bulging backpack over my shoulder as I walked out of the office building.

It was August 14th, and dusk was already falling. A nearly full moon hung high in the sky, the sky cloudless, and the bright moonlight, carrying a hint of
chill, seeped into me as I stepped out.

I tightened my collar; my trench coat and the thin cotton undershirt underneath kept out the autumn night's chill, creating
an impeccable layer of warmth.

I leaned against a roadside smoking booth and lit a cigarette. Although it was late, there were still a few
people leaving the office building, including many I knew. I consider myself kind and helpful, with fairly
good interpersonal relationships; everyone greeted me, and I smiled and nodded in return. After all, today was my last day
working here. Even colleagues who were usually difficult to talk to nodded goodbye, a farewell I suppose.

"When will the moon be clear and bright..." A clear, resonant song drifted from the square not far away. The lyrics to Su Shi's "Prelude to Water Melody ,"
reinterpreted with modern music, are a classic song with a distinct contemporary feel. I looked towards the sound, and
the neon LED lights on the towering Twin Towers flashed by. September 12, 2019.

I flicked the ash from my cigarette, a flood of emotions welling up inside me, coalescing into two
words on the lake of my heart: Ten Years.

Ten whole years since I left home on Mid-Autumn Festival ten years ago.

And now, on the eve of Mid-Autumn Festival ten years later, I packed my bags, unsure of what emotions to feel, preparing to embark on my journey home
.

I turned on my phone, and a number lay quietly in my contact list.

Mom.

I

was born in a small, second-tier city in southern Jiangsu. I didn't have a distinguished family background; both my parents were ordinary
tailors. My childhood wasn't particularly extraordinary either; it was so ordinary that I
can't even recall anything particularly memorable.

The reason is simple: I was sickly from birth, and the yellowed walls of my home accompanied me through most of my
life. Even a little exercise would leave me exhausted, and a cool breeze after a good sweat
could keep me bedridden with a fever for two days. My entertainment consisted of reading fashion magazines or
comic books my parents bought, looking at the colorful illustrations to pass the time. While my peers were laughing, shouting, and running wildly outside the window,
I, having suffered greatly from my illness, could only watch them enviously from inside.

However, because I had nothing to do at home but read, I learned more from books than my peers
. My top grades always made me the child that my friends' parents talked about; needless to say,
comparisons with other children are inevitable in China. Besides my progress in emotional and intellectual intelligence, my sexual awakening also
occurred earlier than my peers. Because both my parents were tailors, our house was filled with fashion magazines. The slender female
models in these magazines became my earliest sexual awakening mentors. Besides showcasing the designs of the clothes, the magazine photos unabashedly
highlighted the models' figures: slender necks, partially exposed full breasts, long, snow-white arms, and smooth
, rounded thighs. The female models posed seductively in front of the camera, radiating the youthful glow of their bodies, and I
meticulously absorbed every inch of these beautiful images into my mind, making them the objects of my fantasies. Although I
didn't have a clear understanding of sex at the time, or even the concept of intercourse, this didn't stop me from turning these fragmented
images into tools to satisfy my primal desires. Don't underestimate a child's imagination and curiosity, especially regarding sex
. Adults often remain silent about sex in front of children, unaware that their bright eyes and brains have already
gleaned most of their sexual knowledge from subtle clues. In this light, adults seem rather foolishly narrow-minded
.

Getting back to the point, whenever I was bedridden, the burden of caring for me naturally fell on my mother. And
I always felt guilty towards her, always busy at my bedside; it's been that way since I was a child. More than once, during bouts of high fever, I
'd seen my mother with tears streaming down her face in moments of lucidity. Unfortunately, children are often carefree, and it wasn't long before she forgot everything
, and repeating the same mistakes was only a matter of time.

You ask what kind of person she is? My mother is a very ordinary woman. Strict or cheerful, at
least in her role as a mother, she's like any other mother, pouring all her energy into her children
, even more so. There are photos of her when she was young at home. In the photos,
a girl in a crisp white shirt and black skirt exudes youthful vitality. When I was little,
I often held up the photos and compared them to the people around me, innocently teasing her that she looked old. Now, thinking back, how rebellious I was!
How sad her face must have been every time she heard that. Time doesn't just add a few wrinkles to a pretty, quiet face
, nor does it simply add a few strokes of white to a jet-black head of hair. Whenever I think back
to that time, only now, in my prime, can I truly understand the ruthlessness of time and its cruelty.

The torment of illness continued until I was fifteen or sixteen. Later, in a biology textbook, I
learned that the culprit behind my relatively tragic childhood was simply tonsils, which are supposed to be eliminated after puberty.
Once my thymus gland was fully developed, perhaps the useless tonsils only served to block foreign objects?

The tonsils' departure was perhaps good news for me; at least for several years, I didn't
spend a full day in a hospital bed. But the tragedy for my family might have only just begun.

In the summer of my second year of junior high, my father left us in a car accident. Life is like that; disasters
come suddenly, but not without warning. My father always drove his motorcycle very fast, and the accident investigation determined that he was
primarily responsible. After paying the funeral expenses and settling some debts, the compensation was almost gone.

At my father's funeral, my mother, dressed in black, wept uncontrollably; the grief of losing her husband in middle age constantly
battered her fragile heart. As the funeral ended and the guests left, my mother turned to embrace me as soon as we entered the house. At my father
's funeral, my mother, dressed in black, wept uncontrollably; the grief of losing her husband in middle age constantly battered her
fragile heart. As the funeral ended and the guests left, my mother turned to embrace me as soon as we entered the house.

At that time, I was going through puberty, my height increasing rapidly like a bamboo shoot, reaching a full 173 centimeters. My mother
had intended to embrace me like a child, but unexpectedly, in her inattention, I was no longer the man lying in the hospital bed.
The child was so thin and small. She could only sob uncontrollably against my chest. My heart was filled with unbearable sorrow, but I had no tears left to shed
. Perhaps it was as the ancients said, that women are made of water; my mother's tears instantly soaked my chest.
What could I do? The pillar of our family had turned to ashes overnight, and I, holding my mother,
couldn't even utter a decent word of comfort. Where was the future of this family? From this day forward, where would we, who depended on each other for survival,
go?

Sometimes, it must be said that a person's growth is completed in an instant.
My mother, usually strict yet loving, was now crying like a child in my arms, and I couldn't help but think of the young girl in that old photograph.
Completely open, fully releasing emotions, the soul at this moment cannot be measured by age. My mother
must have had a day when she cried uncontrollably, that grief gushing from her heart, those unstoppable tears—
two souls crying loudly from different times and spaces merged in my heart at this moment. I held the girl tightly in my arms,
vowing to love and protect her for the rest of my life.

Although my father had passed away, life had to go on. My mother had moved on from her grief and taken over my father
's tailor shop, returning to her work as a seamstress. I, on the other hand, was preparing for my exams while helping my mother with whatever I
could. I was still young, and life was long; studying was a crucial part of my life
, a foundation I needed to build to support my family. All I could do at that time was to achieve excellent
grades and bring a genuine smile to my mother's face.

If that man hadn't appeared, perhaps our lives would have continued as usual.

On the day I was about to register at the provincial key high school with my acceptance letter, that man named Yan Qing
appeared. He drove my mother and me to the school.

How could I not see the smile on my mother's face—the smile I had longed for,
the smile I had strived for and worked so hard for? At that moment, with just a few words from this man, a precious smile
spread across my mother's face. How long had it been since I'd seen her so happy? Perhaps I just hadn't seen her often enough? I
sat in the back seat, staring at the man in the driver's seat, and soon felt relieved. I vaguely saw my father's
shadow in him; from behind, the two looked so alike. My father had only been gone for two years, yet his voice and appearance were still
vividly etched in my mind. And Yan Qing, from my perspective at the time, looked exactly like my father. I couldn't
help but breathe a sigh of relief. Perhaps my mother felt the same way, seeing only my father's shadow in this man.

After entering high school, I could only go home once a month. However, I often used the school phone
to call my mother, partly to reassure her, and partly because I missed her.

When everything in life was filled with struggle and effort, three years passed in the blink of an eye. But
the joy of receiving my university acceptance letter was shattered in an instant.

My mother and Yan Qing were getting married; the wedding date was set for the day before the Mid-Autumn Festival.

I had no reason to stop my mother. Yan Qing truly resembled my father, and therefore, their relationship was far
more harmonious than I had imagined. In an instant, I realized that I had transformed my love for my mother into lust, and that
I had been the one in the wrong all along.

But there was always a stubborn stain in my heart, and no matter how I tried to wipe it away, I couldn't erase
that sordid thought. In fact, the more I tried to change, the stronger this inner demon grew,
eventually taking over my entire heart.

I didn't go anywhere for the entire summer vacation. My restless heart rendered me incapable of doing anything. I stayed in my room every day
, flipping through old magazines and masturbating to images of slender models. My agitated heart constantly stirred my desires
; my youthful vigor seemed to have inexhaustible energy. To avoid touching that forbidden spot in my heart, I
could only rely on constantly releasing my desires to gain temporary peace. This was probably what they call drinking poison to quench thirst; soon,
I tasted the bitter fruit of a lifetime of regret.

My mother's wedding day came quickly. October 2nd, 2009. Although everything was kept simple, Yan Qing was still
completely drunk. I angrily threw him onto the bed, but he remained unconscious.

My mother was wearing a bright red new dress today, and her face was unusually heavily made up. Her eyebrows were drawn in ink, her lips were bright red
, and her face was beaming with a smile. Today, she was as beautiful as she was on her wedding day.

"Tongtong, I cooked two bowls of porridge. You've been busy all day, have some to tide you over."

Ha. For a moment, my heart sneered. My lovely mother would never know what her son was thinking.
I just coldly turned my head and went into my room.

But she followed me into the room relentlessly. How could I not know what she wanted to say? She
had spent the entire holiday trying to persuade me to accept Yan Qing, but I was already tired of those words. Especially today, the thought
of those old clichés irritated me. The moment I opened my mouth, the forbidden zone in my heart burst open
, a chaotic and violent surge of energy rushing to my head, blowing everything away. When I came to
my senses, everything in the room was in chaos. Pillows were scattered, book pages were strewn across the floor, and my
mother was beneath me.

I looked directly into her eyes and saw panic, fear, anger, and above all, surprise. Perhaps
I'm usually always obedient to her; I must have been exceptionally savage before, and I don't even remember
what happened.

"Tongtong, let me go. Let's talk this out, okay?" she softly called my nickname, trying to
get away from me. But that gentle tone overwhelmed me, who had just regained my senses, with another surge of desire.

Why? She was supposed to be my woman; I swore to be with her for life. My heart roared.
Out of control, I lowered my head and frantically tried to kiss my mother.

At first, she seemed startled, letting my tongue roam freely in her mouth. After a few breaths,
she began to struggle, but her struggles were so gentle, as if afraid of hurting her abusive son.
I could feel a slight pain in my tongue at first, as if my mother's teeth were about to bite down, but the next moment,
her tongue was desperately pushing away, and our tongues became intertwined.

My mother's hands pushed against my chest, and her legs only symbolically pushed, as if afraid of hurting me.

Oh, innocent mother, your son is in the prime of his life. Such weak resistance only fuels my animalistic desires.
I raised my face and reached out to lift my mother's bright red tube skirt. She held it down tightly, shaking her head. I
ignored her cries and simply fumbled for the zipper beside her and ripped it open. The
black stockings that covered her round buttocks became an obstacle, which I forcefully tore open. In that instant, I felt a tearing pain in my fingertips,
forcing me to stop.

"Tongtong, no..." My mother's cries reached my ears, but they did not awaken my conscience.
My lower body was swollen and hard, breaking through all obstacles and thrusting into my mother's body. At that moment, my mother frantically
hit and pushed, but I just held on top of her. I don't remember how long it lasted. When I straightened up,
my mother on the ground was probably exhausted and stopped struggling. I stared at her tear-streaked face and burst into tears. My
penis was still inserted in my mother's vagina, but the thought of Yan Qing's ugly penis having penetrated it like this
, even ejaculating inside, made me nauseous. I turned and vomited, wiping away everything I had eaten at the banquet
.

My mother struggled to her feet, patted my back, and sobbed hoarsely, "Tongtong, what's wrong? Are you
alright?"

I was truly a rebellious devil, a son deserving of divine retribution. After my assault, my mother's
first concern was for my health, and how did I respond? I wiped the saliva from my mouth, turned around, and
roughly pushed my mother down, tearing open her new clothes without even unbuttoning them. As I rubbed her breasts,
just like I had fantasized about voluptuous models in those days, I shoved my penis back into my mother's vagina,
awkwardly and clumsily moving it around inside.

"You're mine, you're mine! I love you..." I cried, repeating these words over and over. My mother
was too weak to struggle, passively enduring my rape. Stimulated by her wet, hot vagina, I ejaculated inside
her. I hastily wiped the stains with a nearby tube skirt, shoved my half-erect penis back into my pants, and
rushed out without looking back.

I had planned to leave home for school the next day; my luggage was already packed. Having committed this beastly crime, I grabbed my
bags and left the land that had nurtured me for nineteen years that very night.

At school, just like the previous six years, I threw myself into my studies. I found
a job in the school lab, working part-time to barely support myself. In my junior year, I successfully secured a place in a graduate program and started
working in my advisor's lab ahead of schedule. There, I met my mentor and friend, Professor Sun Yaofu.

I was completely focused on my work, hardworking, capable, and possessing strong professional knowledge, quickly becoming Professor Sun's right
-hand man. Many hands make light work, and Mr. Sun's company quickly got on the right track, becoming
one of the leading companies in the industry in the city.

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