That autumn, you tied me up.

In autumn, the vibrant sunset illuminated the maple forest, making the deep red and golden leaves seem to burn. The pure sky instantly became magnificent and dazzling, except for the withered, yellowed slopes in the shadows, which remained dark and quiet.
On this slope, a girl in a black dress had been sitting alone for a long time. He had been watching her for a long time as well.
Hearing the sound of footsteps crunching on the weeds, the girl slowly turned around, facing the stranger blankly.
He was tall, no more than thirty years old, with a square face and somewhat rough features. He wore a wrinkled, dirty denim jacket and trousers, with a canvas bag slung across his shoulder. His small eyes concealed a wolf-like, greedy, and cautious gaze.
Of course, he was also watching the girl before him.
She wasn't particularly beautiful, at most considered fairly pretty. A black turtleneck sweater, a black woolen long skirt, and black high-heeled leather boots accentuated her fair skin. Her long, flowing hair cascaded down her back, held in place by a black plastic hair clip. She was slender and tall, but her face looked somewhat haggard.
"What do you want? Can you tell me?" the girl asked softly.
A little over an hour later, he and the girl sat facing each other in a rented room.
This was her rented apartment.
The room was small and simple, filled with a kind of unpretentious cleanliness and coldness. The male celebrity posters on the walls were yellowed and cracked, and the wildflowers in the glass jar on the windowsill had withered.
He felt uneasy, as if facing a dangerous trap.
His hand, gripping the dagger, was sweating.
It was a homemade tool steel dagger, dark bluish-green in color, with a thin, sharp blade.
With this dagger, he arrogantly told the girl everything he wanted, then mustered the courage to kidnap her to this secluded rented room, ready to begin a new adventure.
He wasn't a good person, but this was the first time he'd been so audacious.
It was already dark.
The lights were on, and the curtains were drawn.
The girl's eyes were slightly moist.
She was still wearing a black sweater and a black woolen long skirt, but she had taken off her black high-heeled boots and put on brand-new white socks and black velvet square-toed cloth shoes. Her hands were bound behind her back with thick hemp rope, and her feet were also tied together with rope. She sat helplessly on the edge of the bed.
The shoes and socks were new, just like the rope, bought from a roadside shop.
The Northeastern man lit a cigarette, his hands trembling slightly.
As if in a dream, he stared blankly at the girl, breathing heavily.
She didn't resist at all, almost motionless, letting herself be bound.
Even though the ropes hurt, she only swayed in pain and let out a soft moan.
In the dim light, her arms were tightly bound, forcing her to arch her upper body, her high breasts revealing her alluring curves.
He felt dizzy.
For some reason, this man from Northeast China felt like crying.
"Do you really like this?" the girl asked softly. "Now, do whatever you want."
The first thing he did was gag her with a towel.
Through the curtains, bright sunlight illuminated the cozy little room.
He woke up.
The pillow and blankets exuded a faint, sweet scent of feminine perfume. A soft body nestled in his arms; this novel feeling felt like an illusion, a fantasy, making him want to stay in bed.
He saw the girl's delicate face, still streaked with tears.
She lay naked beside him, her pale face showing exhaustion. After a night of frenzy and passion, the girl was still bound hand and foot, naked except for white socks and black velvet square-toed shoes. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes were dark-circled, and her delicate skin was covered with bruises and swellings.
She never dreamed this man could be so perverted and barbaric.
For an entire night, she wore white socks and black velvet square-toed shoes, bound tightly, forced to endure the abuse in agony, shamefully allowing her clothes to be stripped off and subjected to all sorts of shallow and ravaging.
Everything she had heard and imagined was even more stimulating and terrifying.
Yet, in this helpless submission, in this futile struggle with her hands bound behind her back, she felt not only humiliation and pain, but also a torrent of sorrow.
She had no regrets about her choice.
He untied her.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Because she had been bound for so long, the untying was painful.
She wanted to cry her heart out.
Seeing the deep grooves left by the rope binding her slender arms, the Northeastern man suddenly felt awkward.
He gently kissed the hard, hard marks of the bindings. She
was somewhat surprised, a flicker of emotion crossing her eyes, but it quickly vanished, her gaze still filled with a faint melancholy and sorrow.
"You know, you're a pervert," the girl said softly.
His face darkened.
"I'm willing," he replied roughly, "Shut the fuck up, or I'll kill you, you brat."
The small room fell silent, eerily quiet.
After a while, she asked gently, "Do you drink?"
Northeastern men certainly liked to drink.
Some liked to talk nonsense after drinking.
Some liked to cause trouble after drinking. Some
liked to lie down and sleep soundly after drinking.
Fried peanuts, braised beef, scrambled eggs, cucumber stir-fried with pork slices, and a bottle of 56-proof Erguotou liquor.
She prepared lunch.
He was slightly tipsy after drinking, feeling so comfortable he was almost floating, swaying freely as he watched the girl's calm gaze with a smile, becoming very gentle and kind.
He told her that he liked women wearing white socks and black square-toed cloth shoes, preferably with the traditional Chinese blouse worn by women in movies and TV dramas. He liked to tie up his beloved women, turning them into subservient slaves and prisoners, and that these women also enjoyed being tied up, tortured, and humiliated by him.
She listened quietly to the man's endless outpouring. She
also drank a glass of baijiu, a faint blush rising on her pale cheeks, her long eyelashes fluttering, a hint of pity and sorrow flashing across her face, realizing that she herself no longer cared about anything.
After getting up, she changed into her usual pink cotton undershirt and jeans. Following the man's instructions, she wore white socks and black velvet square-toed cloth shoes, and applied a little light makeup. Now, however, her hands were tightly bound behind her back, and her feet were also tied, depriving her of her freedom.
It had been a long time since she had worn such simple black square-toed cloth shoes. She
had never been bound before.
The strong liquor fueled her imagination; she felt that wearing these rustic black square-toed cloth shoes made her feel like a married woman from her hometown, a woman often referred to as a "big old woman," while the ropes binding her made her feel like a young wife who had been abducted and forcibly taken.
She suddenly felt very pitiful. She
hadn't felt this clearly in a long time.
In the bustling modern city, feelings are always shrouded in haze and chaos. Life demands strength and ruthlessness; a woman, no matter how badly wounded, cannot wallow in self-pity, otherwise, she will be eliminated by life.
But she no longer cared. The Northeastern man was a little carried away.
He wasn't a lucky man; his family was of modest means, his parents were honest and kind but disrespected ordinary people. After graduating from junior high school, he had never found a job, always drifting through society. This was his first time leaving his hometown, coming to this prosperous city thousands of miles away to seek opportunities.
Like other Northeastern men, he liked to drink.
Unlike most men, he liked to tie up women and play perverse games with them.
But he had no money.
At this moment, he was already a little tipsy, facing a beautiful girl bound hand and foot, becoming increasingly cheerful and happy, as if he were having a secret rendezvous with her.
He defiantly picked up the delicate girl. She nestled against the Northeastern man's chest like a docile kitten, murmuring, "You talk too much. Aren't you afraid that if I accuse you of kidnapping, it might just provide clues to solve the case?"
The girl's tone was gentle, yet it shattered the Northeastern man's sweet reverie like a bullet.
"I've heard that many criminals kill to cover their tracks," she smiled faintly. "Will you kill me? If so, strangle me with a rope. Don't leave me a bloody mess." He didn't say anything, only staring gloomily at the girl whose hands and feet were bound.
She still smiled, though her smile was somewhat forced and bitter.
The girl wasn't hung up and strangled. She was simply stripped naked, leaving only her underwear and socks, her hands bound, and suspended high from the rafters, like a female prisoner being tortured in the old days, relentlessly interrogated by the Northeastern man.
The interrogation involved too many questions.
The answer was unbelievable:
the girl said she came from out of town to work as a hostess in a nightclub. She had been diagnosed with cancer during a hospital visit and given at most six months to live. She decided to abandon futile treatments and simply spend her final days quietly, when unfortunately, she encountered a man who had kidnapped her.
"Your hobbies are perverse and have never been satisfied," she calmly replied. "I'm willing to satisfy you, hoping to give you some happiness before I die. If you don't believe me, you can kill me."
The man from Northeast China, of course, didn't believe her.
He snapped the lamp cord, twisted it into a thin whip, and gagged the girl with a towel.
The dimly lit room echoed with the crisp cracking of the whip against flesh.
The girl futilely twisted her supple waist, her slender body hanging stiffly in mid-air, her snow-white skin marked with deep red and purple welts, uttering indistinct whimpers.
The burning pain pierced through her internal organs.
She couldn't help but cry, unsure whether it was from the pain or the humiliation.
He showed no mercy, whipping her like a draft animal, whether out of genuine desire to understand the real reason or because he secretly enjoyed the thrill of beating a young girl.
Each time he pulled out a towel, the girl's answer remained unchanged.
So, the towel was once again stuffed into her mouth, and the whipping continued.
Through her disheveled hair, the girl saw her pale body convulsing, her feet, clad in white socks and black velvet square-toed shoes, dangling three feet off the ground, her vision gradually blurring.
The pain grew clearer and sharper. Her
mind became increasingly hazy.
Her head slowly drooped, hanging limply to her chest, her muffled moans growing weaker, flashes of light appearing before her eyes until she was swallowed by the vast darkness.
"Am I going to be beaten to death like this?"
she thought in despair and sorrow.
The sunlight outside was still bright.
The girl did not die.
She awoke to find herself naked in a warm bed, her body burning with the sting of whip marks. Her hands were bound behind her back, and the vicious man sat beside her.
He stroked her hair, muttering incoherently, tears glistening in his cloudy eyes.
In the dim light, the tall figure of the Northeastern man swayed slightly on the wall, like a demon from a nightmare, desperately guarding the simple hut.
The girl awoke again in the morning.
She was untied, and the man had left the hut sometime earlier.
A note was left on the bedside table, with a few words scrawled on it: "I will come back!"
She silently tore the note to shreds. Several days passed before the girl finally left home.
She still felt a dull ache all over her body. The bruises and welts from the thin whip made of twisted electrical wire were slow to heal, and as the days passed, faint whip marks remained on her snow-white skin. More painful than the whip marks was the inner sorrow.
For some reason, she didn't resent the ruthless, twisted man from Northeast China. Because she saw the tears in his eyes.
In this world, she was not only the first time she had been possessed by a man, but also the first time she had seen a man cry for her. Besides, she genuinely wanted to bring someone some joy before she died.
A life cut short in one's twenties was too short. She had forgotten many things worth cherishing in life, chasing money and vanity in the hustle and bustle of the city with her youthful years and numbness, only to realize at the end of her life that she had nothing. She had even been grateful for being held hostage. At least it could dispel her loneliness.
She seemed to have found the feeling she had longed for, a hazy, indistinct feeling.
The world outside was still noisy and bustling, the streets teeming with people and cars, the polluted city sky a gloomy gray. In the flower shop on the street corner, the girl stopped, staring blankly at a single, withered red rose in the glass window, and suddenly wanted to burst into tears.
The red roses were withered and drooping, glistening with dewdrops clinging to their petals.
No one would buy such flowers anymore. Though withered beauty was more poignant.
The girl looked up at the gray sky, took a few deep breaths, and silently turned away, walking into a small, privately-owned tailor shop next door.
"Are you here to have clothes made?" the shop owner, a tired middle-aged woman, asked listlessly. The girl nodded, a faint blush rising on her pale cheeks.
A week later, the girl picked up her custom-made clothes.
She hurried into the tailor shop, trying to avoid the owner's gaze, grabbed the plastic bag containing the clothes, and rushed away, looking somewhat guilty.
It felt like secretly using her father's lipstick as a child—truly thrilling.
The plastic bag contained several sets of old-fashioned women's cotton dresses with distinctive, rustic buttons and a rustic style. If it weren't for the brightly colored fabrics, they would only be suitable for elderly rural women. No wonder the tailor shop owner was curious.
It seemed somewhat illogical for a young, fashionable city girl to have such clothes custom-made. However, in a modern city, many things seem illogical.
Back in her rented room, the girl drew the curtains, applied makeup in front of the mirror, put on silver earrings and a jade bracelet, styled her long hair into a bun at the back of her head, changed into an outfit she'd taken from a plastic bag, and then put on clean white socks and black velvet square-toed cloth shoes with loops. She slowly straightened up.
It was as if time had reversed; a once-pretty young woman appeared in the mirror. Suddenly, the girl's nose tingled with emotion.
She closed her eyes, feeling that the brand-new sky-blue floral-patterned blouse was a little too tight, the neatly fastened buttons and the open bodice making her chest feel constricted, filled with a strange and novel sensation. "You're crazy," she muttered to herself.
A young girl, afflicted with an incurable disease, developed an absurd desire: to use her body to bring pleasure to any man who yearned for but had never experienced romantic love. Instead, she was kidnapped, raped, and subjected to perverse abuse by a wicked man. Yet, she still dressed herself as his wife, waiting for a reunion that might never happen, thus passing the last days of her life. Such behavior was, of course, utterly absurd.
Loneliness and despair often breed madness. The girl laughed silently, finding herself ridiculous. In her smile, glistening tears fell onto her pale cheeks.
The autumn wind grew colder. The girl went out less, often staying alone in her small room.
At these times, she would always dress like a traditional wife, her hair styled in a bun, wearing a traditional cloth blouse, white socks, and black square-toed cloth shoes. She would meticulously apply makeup, clean her room impeccably, and then silently wait for a man's return.
In the stillness of the night, the girl would quietly tie her feet together and lie in bed, lost in thought.
"Do you really like this?" she asked herself.
It seemed like a question without an answer. The girl wanted to cry. A growing weariness brought with it chaotic dreams.
The glass begonia on the windowsill bloomed with small, pink flowers, its leaves a translucent green, like a charming, albeit somewhat gaudy, young lady from a bygone era, quietly displaying a lonely brilliance in the dim, simple room.
He had actually returned. The afternoon sun illuminated the cold, quiet room.
The Northeastern man stood in the doorway like a wolf, his cloudy eyes radiating a sharp, fierce gaze.
In just a few days, he had become much thinner, his angular cheeks covered with unkempt stubble, his wrinkled clothes even more worn and dirty, his tightly clenched fists trembling slightly.
In truth, his heart was filled with despair and fear.
Seeing the familiar figure appear at the door, the girl felt dizzy, almost unable to breathe. A faint blush rose on her pale cheeks, and her eyes involuntarily moistened.
The man from Northeast China was also somewhat surprised and flustered.
He had originally intended to appear fierce to mask his unease at re-entering the small house, at least not to reveal his true desire to be accepted. But to his utter surprise, the familiar young girl before him was dressed in a light green floral blouse, lotus-colored trousers, white socks, and black square-toed cloth shoes, her hair styled in a bun at the back, resembling a young wife from an old-fashioned rural village.
In his panic, he remembered how he had shamelessly confessed his secret desires.
Because of this, this man, who already considered himself hopeless, suddenly felt a lump in his throat.
He hesitated for a moment, then gently closed the door.
"Didn't expect me to come back, did you?" the man from Northeast China had intended to say fiercely, but he was ashamed to find that his tone was as gentle as a lover's conversation in a TV drama.
The girl did not answer. The girl had once again become a captive of the Northeastern man.
Thick hemp rope, about the thickness of a little finger, was tied around her wrists, tightly binding her hands, which were pinned behind her back. Then, horizontal lines were drawn across her breasts and wrapped around her body.
The Northeastern man said this was a Japanese method of bondage.
The girl sat on the edge of the bed, like a young woman abducted by bandits in ancient times, having endured too much manipulation, long since numb and submissive to everything, her eyes lowered helplessly, her hands behind her back, silently allowing herself to be bound.
The dimly lit room echoed with a man's heavy, panting breath.
The girl felt dizzy; her lips moved a few times, but she said nothing. Only when the rope tightened did she involuntarily sway slightly, gazing resentfully at her toes.
Tears silently blurred her vision.
Her feet, clad in brand-new white socks and black velvet square-toed cloth shoes, were stiffly pressed together.
A tangled mess of hemp rope tightly bound her ankles.
She was at a loss, still hesitant and confused. Her hands were now firmly bound behind her back; it was too late to resist. Her upper body, arms, and legs were tightly bound by the rope, and she sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed, completely at the mercy of this Northeastern man.
At this moment, the girl once again surrendered herself to a stranger.
Large hands wrapped around her from behind, grabbing her breasts. Caught off guard, she was pulled into the Northeastern man's embrace. Before she could even utter a sound, her lips were sealed by a hot, wet kiss.
Through her clothes, her swollen breasts were gripped and kneaded by spasmodic fingers. With her hands bound behind her back and her legs tied together, she could neither cover herself nor resist, nor escape. Her body was firmly held in place by strong arms. Despite her immense shame, she had no choice but to endure the storm of passionate kisses and lewd acts.
The long-suppressed sorrow was released with a joyful outpouring of pain and humiliation.
Tears glistened in the girl's eyes.
"I missed you so much," the Northeastern man roared frantically in a low voice.
She sobbed inwardly, murmuring her reply, "I missed you too." The moon quietly illuminated the dark little house.
The Northeastern man and the girl lay on the bed, exhausted, nestled together under the same covers, feeling the warmth and comfort of their skin against each other, constantly brewing waves of fleeting intimacy.
Like the men of the countryside, the Northeastern man was naked, as happy as a fish in water. He hadn't felt so safe and happy in a long time.
The girl lay quietly in the man's broad arms, her hair loose, also naked, her hands still tied behind her back, only able to let him play with and caress her.
With each caress and tease, she couldn't help but feel shy in the darkness.
"Are you still stealing?" she asked softly.
"I'm only stealing from you now." He carelessly squeezed and pinched the girl's firm breasts, answering with a grin, "I've reformed and found a job as a supermarket security guard."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to get into trouble and drag you down with me." He chuckled, "You've already had enough bad luck running into me. If you get into legal trouble too, you'll be a little unlucky one."
The girl suddenly felt a lump in her throat.
At that moment, a tingling sensation spread from her breasts throughout her body. She had never experienced such a strong, stimulating, hazy desire, never felt such a soft, trembling dizziness.
For the first time, she wanted to be untied so she could open her arms and embrace a man. The Northeastern man gradually became sleepy and drowsily untied the girl.
"It's too uncomfortable to be tied up like this. You should get a good night's sleep tonight," he said, yawning. "Don't try anything funny, or I'll kill you."
He wasn't worried the girl would escape after being untied. He had already chained her right foot with a long, thin iron chain, the other end to the bed frame.
She could only step off the bed at most. He placed the key to the padlock far away on the windowsill. She didn't make a sound.
The Northeastern man finally drifted off to sleep, gradually emitting soft snores.
The girl, still awake, nestled silently in the arms of this bear-like, muscular man, gently stroking the deep, hardened lines of the rope on her wrists, feeling an overwhelming urge to cry.
She quietly and shyly kissed the man beside her. This was the first time she had ever kissed a man first. The dawn sunlight streamed into the quiet little house.
The Northeastern man woke up, smelling the aroma of fried food. After the frenzied ordeal, his unusually strong appetite was awakened, and he longed to devour a meal immediately.
"Get up, have some breakfast,"
he heard a gentle voice call out.
The girl stood smiling before him, her eyes lowered shyly. On the table behind her were soy milk, fried dough sticks, and freshly fried eggs.
She had clearly freshened up, wearing a brand-new blue cotton jacket and trousers with white peony patterns, white socks, and black velvet square-toed cloth shoes. Her clean face was lightly powdered, making her lips appear even redder, her teeth whiter, and her bright, delicate eyes even more striking. Her dark hair was styled in a traditional Chinese updo, adorned with a hairpin; the tassels swayed and bobbed with her movements.
"Don't stare at me like that. Haven't you ever seen a beautiful woman before?" the girl said shyly, blushing slightly. "Don't you like this outfit?"
"I love it," the Northeastern man murmured in reply.
"Hey, how did you get away? Didn't I tie you up?" he asked, puzzled.
"Idiot, isn't there a broom over there?" the girl said with a grin. "I used it to pull the key over from the windowsill and unlocked the door. You were sleeping like a log, you didn't even notice."
After breakfast, the girl washed the dishes, and the man from Northeast China changed into his security guard uniform, ready to go to work.
"I hope you catch a thief today and get a lot of bonuses," the girl said with a grin.
"I'll arrest you first."
"Why should I? I didn't steal anything."
"You did steal, you stole my love," the man from Northeast China said seriously. "Hey, little thief, I have to tie you up before I go to work, otherwise you'll run away, and I'll become the dumbest security guard in the world."
"I swear I won't run away," the girl shouted.
"But I'm worried," he said, pretending to be serious.
The girl was pushed back onto a chair, her hands were tied behind her back, and she was bound with hemp rope around her shoulders and arms. A towel was stuffed into her mouth, and tape was used to seal it.
She obediently allowed herself to be bound, without struggling.
At this moment, she resembled a young married woman from olden times, her hair styled in a bun, wearing a brightly colored cotton blouse, rustic white socks, and black velvet square-toed cloth shoes. She shyly discovered that she was not only tightly bound, but her full breasts were also constricted, standing erect and protruding, their high, alluring curves still visible despite the covering of her bodice.
A strand of disheveled hair hung in front of her eyes.
Her hands were tied behind her back, preventing her from brushing aside the hair.
The Northeastern man showed no mercy; each rope was tightened forcefully, digging deep into her flesh, each knot securely fastened, making escape impossible no matter how hard she struggled.
The girl felt a tightness in her chest, her whole body constricted, as if she no longer belonged to herself.
Her feet, clad in white socks and black velvet square-toed cloth shoes, were also tightly bound.
Soon, she was carried to the bed, face down, her hands and feet bound together, moaning incoherently, unable to move.
Looking at the girl bound so tightly, the Northeastern man suddenly felt a surge of emotion.
He realized this beautiful young woman was even more adorable and gentle than he remembered or imagined; her shy, downcast appearance, bound hand and foot, was exceptionally endearing.
For some reason, he felt a tightness in his chest, a pang of guilt.
The second hand of the alarm clock on the windowsill ticked away. Time seemed to stand still. The girl on the bed cried.
She had struggled desperately, twisting her wrists, trying to break free of the ropes, but the more she struggled, the tighter the ropes dug into her skin, making her hands and feet feel welded together. Her arms and legs grew increasingly sore and numb, an unbearable torture, every second a living hell.
Now, she had given up on her futile struggle. Her cheeks, bulging from being stuffed with towels, were already sore, numb, and stiff. Unable to move freely or call for help, she endured the torment helplessly.
For a frail girl, this prolonged binding was truly cruel.
The girl sobbed helplessly, feeling the growing weight of sorrow and pain, feeling the fear of a young woman—dressed in a brightly colored cotton blouse, white socks, and black velvet square-toed shoes, her hair styled in a bun—being bound and imprisoned, feeling the torment she willingly endured for love.
Crystal tears streamed down her delicate cheeks. The cotton blouse, white socks, and black velvet square-toed shoes represented the longing for the virtuous woman of old.
The young woman's bun represented the characteristics of a modest, refined wife. The tight bindings represented the conquest and subjugation of love, perhaps also the fear of losing that love.
...
She didn't know if she was overthinking things, but she hoped there was some truth to it. At least, for her, being bound and tortured at this moment was far more than just simple pain and humiliation.
"God, am I going crazy?" she thought desperately.
When the Northeastern man returned to the small house after work, he realized something was wrong. He quickly untied the girl, who was almost unconscious. Stroking her disheveled hair, this usually clumsy man was flustered and didn't know what to do. While rubbing the deep grooves on the girl's wrists from the ropes, he cursed his own recklessness in his heart. He never expected that the prolonged binding would have such serious consequences. The girl no longer had the strength to curse him. She collapsed into the Northeastern man's arms, silently shedding tears. Her hands and feet, now free, were numb and swollen, every joint ached, her whole body was emptied and weak with sorrow, and her eyes were dazed and blank.
The sky gradually darkened. Under the soft light, the seemingly wilted begonia flowers on the windowsill appeared vibrant again. The aroma of sizzling scallions wafted from the neighbor's kitchen. The girl gradually regained consciousness, though she was still weak and in pain. Suddenly, she hugged the Northeastern man tightly.
"You bastard!" she whispered, tears welling in her eyes as she nestled against the rough, perverted man. "You're so cruel to me. I'm so miserable, and you didn't even offer a word of comfort." He seemed to be struck by lightning, instinctively holding the petite, soft young woman in a daze. "I'm sorry, I was wrong," he mumbled, bowing his head. His apology earned him a kiss.
"Shall we go out for dinner?" the girl asked tenderly, looking at the man who had bound her. "I've been starving all day. If I don't eat soon, you'll really kill me." "Okay, let's go right away," he hurriedly agreed. "After you finish eating, whip me," she whispered shyly. "I want to be beaten, beaten by you."
"Ah, why?"
"Because you like it, and I like it too."
The small restaurant on the street was bustling with business. The copper hot pot was burning brightly, with slices of mutton, tripe, and vegetables floating in the boiling broth. The air was filled with the sounds of people exchanging pleasantries and the pungent aroma of baijiu (Chinese liquor). The Northeastern man and the girl had both drunk some alcohol, their faces flushed and slightly tipsy.
He thought she looked beautiful and lovely at that moment.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked with a smile.
"Of course, she's prettier than you, but we've broken up," he casually lied.
"You tied her up and beat her too?" she scoffed incredulously. "I don't believe you."
The Northeastern man's face darkened, and he said nothing.
Because, in fact, he had never had a girlfriend. He was insecure.
A man who was penniless, looked clumsy, and had unusual fetishes couldn't possibly not be insecure.
He downed the baijiu in his glass in one gulp, his throat burning, his eyes slightly moist.
A soft little hand firmly grasped the hand of this burly man.
"Are you angry?" the girl asked softly.
"No," he said roughly.
"Don't be angry," she smiled playfully. "If you're angry, you can be angry when we get home, however you want. Don't keep a long face now, you naughty husband, be good."
This ambiguous and teasing hint made the Northeastern man's heart burn.
On the way home, the girl nestled in the Northeastern man's arms like a couple deeply in love.
He felt a strange and warm feeling. Suddenly, the girl burst out laughing.
"What are you laughing at?" he asked curiously.
"I don't look like a kidnapped silly girl at all, I look just like your wife," she said with a grin. "You're not as fierce as you used to be, just like your silly husband."
The Northeastern man didn't know how to answer and just smiled awkwardly.
"The day after tomorrow is my birthday," the girl said coquettishly. "You have to give me a present, or I'll cry."
Red, a joyous color.
Red candles flickered in the small room. The girl, dressed in a red dress and red high heels, wore vibrant evening makeup that concealed the paleness of her face. Her dark eyes shone brightly, a mixture of joy and a touch of sadness. After all, another year of youth had passed. A square cardboard box tied with a ribbon sat on the table. It was a gift from the villain who had kidnapped her. Like other girls, she loved the gift.
The man from Northeast China hadn't disappointed her.
The girl gently opened the box, her eyes flashing with surprise, a hint of coquettishness, and feigned resentment. She pretended to be angry as she looked at the man, who was trying not to laugh, but he pulled her into his arms.
"You're so bad," she whispered.
Didn't she like it? "I ordered this online," he said with a grin. "It's very expensive."
The flickering candlelight illuminated the "gift" in the box: a pair of ugly, dark iron shackles. The thick shackles and chains gleamed with a dark blue light, looking somewhat eerie and terrifying.
The girl sighed. "I don't know if it's expensive, but it's definitely heavy," she murmured.
A necklace given by a lover should be worn around the neck.
The Northeastern man, however, grinned wickedly as he put the shackles on the girl.
The girl closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the "gift," and the cold shackles fitting snugly around her ankles, indicating that this villain had definitely planned this all along.
"Perfect," he winked and made a face, defiantly putting the key to the shackles into his jacket pocket.
The girl felt a strange unease.
She tried to take a couple of steps, the heavy shackles dragging her feet, the thick iron chains rattling loudly. Her ankles ached from the pressure of the hard iron hoops, and her feet, clad in red low-cut high heels, stood awkwardly and unsteadily.
Compared to being bound by ropes, being locked in these heavy shackles made the girl feel more like a prisoner.
The Northeastern man chuckled, admiring the girl in her shackles. She silently gazed at the simple-minded man.
He slowly approached. She was then bound tightly again. Thick hemp rope, about the thickness of a little finger, was tightly wrapped around her arms and wrists, her bound hands pulled high behind her back. Even the slightest struggle caused excruciating pain, as if her twisted shoulders and elbows would dislocate.
The girl's heart pounded, her cheeks burned, and she wanted to escape, but bound tightly and shackled with heavy leg irons, she couldn't move an inch. Her high, rounded breasts rose and fell slightly, her eyes lowered shyly, and she pleaded tearfully, her body gradually going limp. He ignored the delicate girl's pleas and ordered her to walk in circles around the room.
The clanging of thick iron chains echoed in the small room. The girl, dragging her bound arms, struggled to move her feet, her heavy leg irons making her stagger like a prisoner being led to the execution ground. The whip occasionally lashed her exposed, full breasts and buttocks, producing dull thuds. The burning pain pierced her body, and she trembled with helpless, pitiful cries.
The girl lowered her eyes shyly, enduring the relentless driving. The hard shackles chafed her skin, and every step was excruciating, causing her to break out in a cold sweat. Finally, when she was whipped, she lost her balance and fell headlong. A pair of strong arms nimbly caught her. She was easily carried to the bed.
"With these shackles on, I won't have to tie you up to go to work every day anymore," the Northeastern man said softly. "That would be too uncomfortable for you, silly girl. Do you like this gift?"
The girl nodded obediently. Actually, she knew the reason was weak, just to cover up a perverse hobby.
For some reason, she hoped he wasn't lying.
Like autumn leaves, the pages of the calendar on the wall withered and fell.
The day for the follow-up visit to the hospital was drawing closer. The girl and the Northeastern man seemed to have forgotten about it, laughing and joking happily every day, playing the roles of a bound and tormented woman and a vicious thug, indulging in a strange and entangled love. Every day, she wore heavy shackles, locked at home doing housework. He went to work at the supermarket every day, bringing home some food.
The day before their follow-up appointment at the hospital, to avoid the doctor noticing the marks of the restraints, they didn't play wildly and went to bed early.
The girl freely embraced the Northeastern man, kissing him contentedly, seemingly in a good mood.
"If the doctor tells me tomorrow that my condition has worsened, you should be happy," she said with a grin. "Once I die soon, you'll be completely free and won't have to waste your youth with a silly girl anymore."
"Bullshit!" he said fiercely. "If you say another word, I'll hang you up and whip you right now."
"I sincerely hope you can live a happier life in the future."
"Don't mess with me, I'm in a bad mood."
The girl lit a cigarette for the Northeastern man, smiling as she nestled against his broad chest, like a lazy kitten, infinitely comfortable in his arms, her eyes closed, seemingly already filled with sleepiness.
The begonia on the windowsill had just been watered, its pink flowers glistening brightly.
Suddenly, the man from Northeast China felt a chill on his chest. The sound of a girl sobbing filled the small house.
He gently patted her back, wanting to say something, but his throat tightened, and he couldn't utter a word.
Gazing at the charming little flowers on the windowsill, he felt like crying too.
The next day, the girl left the small house early. She refused the Northeastern man's offer to accompany her.
Watching that familiar figure board the bus, he suddenly felt waves of frustration, fear, and emptiness, as if something inside him had been torn apart and vanished, and the sky grew even grayer and darker. For the entire day, the Northeastern man remained silent.
Even his most joking colleagues stopped laughing and teasing him when they saw his gloomy face.
After work, the Northeastern man hurried towards "home," his mind becoming increasingly chaotic the closer he got, even starting to imagine the possibility of finding the house empty.
"Even if you run to the ends of the earth, I will find you," he muttered fiercely. Upon entering "home," the Northeastern man froze.
The small house had been cleaned spotlessly. Seeing the Northeastern man burst in, the girl sitting on the bed looked up, her face deathly pale, and burst into tears.
Bundles of hemp rope, dark shackles, and leather whips were neatly arranged on the table.
The girl had changed into a brand-new, bright, well-tailored red blouse, light green trousers, white socks, and black square-toed cloth shoes. Her hair was styled in a bun at the back of her head, and she looked pretty and cheerful.
"The doctor said it was a misdiagnosis; I don't have cancer," she sobbed. "I wasn't reassured, so I went to several big hospitals, and the specialists all said the same thing." The
man from Northeast China felt a lump in his throat, and his eyes reddened.
He knew it was shameful for a grown man to be like this, but he couldn't hold back anymore. The girl hugged him tightly.
"Today, I want you to tie me up properly and have some fun," she cried happily. "You can hang me up and whip me or torture me even more severely; I'll do anything you want."
Different thicknesses of leather whips were already placed in the bucket.
Her feet, clad in white socks and black cloth shoes with square toes, were tightly bound together, three feet off the ground, swaying helplessly in mid-air. Heavy stones, weighing over thirty pounds, were tied to her ankles.
The girl, dressed in a bright, well-fitting red blouse and light green trousers, her hair loosely tied up, had her hands tightly bound with hemp rope. Her head hung low, suspended high from the rafters. The buttons on her collar, shoulders, and armpits were undone, revealing her fair, delicate skin and most of her breasts.
She felt her hands stiff and numb from the binding, her heavy body hanging motionless in the air. The strain on her straight arms and legs, bound by heavy weights, felt like her ribs were about to tear apart; even the slightest movement caused waves of excruciating pain.
A towel stuffed into her mouth bulged her cheeks, silencing her cries of anguish. The Northeastern man stood happily before her. "You've really put me through a lot! It was a misdiagnosis, and I worried for nothing. I'm so angry!" he said excitedly. These words made the girl want to cry.
"I'm going to give you twenty lashes to vent my anger," the Northeastern man said with a grin.
The water-soaked leather whip lashed hard against the girl's body, making dull cracking sounds. Crimson and purplish welts rose on her fair skin, eliciting muffled moans.
His whipping was merciless.
She felt the pain had reached its peak.
After the last lash, the burly Northeastern man suddenly squatted on the ground, like a bullied child, wailing and crying, tears and snot streaming down his face.
The girl was also crying, her whole body soaked with tears. Suddenly, her hair was grabbed, forcing her to look up at the Northeastern man's distorted face.
"Did you hear me? I'm going to marry you! If you don't, I'll kill you!" He roared, his eyes red and his body trembling, almost hoarse. "Or you can kill me, or I'll be your husband for life."
The girl, suspended from the rafters, couldn't move, gazing sadly at the distraught man.
"Tell me, do you want to?" he asked, choking back tears. Late at night, the moon floated high in the star-studded sky.
The girl, covered in whip marks, lay naked on the bed with the Northeastern man, skin to skin. Neither of them could sleep, their eyes shining as they gazed at each other in the moonlight.
"Shameless, such a grown man crying like that," the girl whispered coquettishly.
"You haven't said anything, I'm getting anxious."
"Nonsense, how can I say anything? You've got my mouth shut, I'm just hanging there, I can't say anything even if I wanted to."
"You're teasing me on purpose, what do you mean
I haven't had time to say anything?" "I just don't want to say yes."
"Why?"
"Because you're too silly." The girl sighed softly, "You should have realized long ago that I've already fallen in love with you."

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