The most beautiful incest is worth watching.

My hometown is in the countryside. In July 1980, I was admitted to the No. 7 Middle School in the county, which was 17 li (approximately 8.5 kilometers) from my home. It was a key middle school, and although it recruited students from all over the county, very few students could get in based on their academic performance, except for those admitted through designated areas or back channels. Only a dozen or so of us with exceptionally good grades were fortunate enough to attend.

Although it was called a county middle school, the school was actually located in a small town where the township government was situated. The school buildings were dilapidated, but still much better than my primary school. At least the buildings were neatly arranged, and there was the largest playground in the town.

Most of the students were children of officials. Although the school provided them with more assistance, such as allocating several small dormitories to them, it still gave sufficient attention to us students who were admitted based on our own merits. First, it assigned one of us to each class, so that we could serve as role models for our classmates and make it easier for teachers to tutor us; second, it was made clear that we could be class representatives but not class officers; and third, it was secretly instructed that the teachers should give us special attention in our studies.

The elderly headmaster, his temples graying, said in a private meeting, "That's just how it is, there's nothing I can do. You are the school's precious treasures; the school's reputation depends on you..." His last few words were clearly tinged with resentment, sorrow, and helplessness. The headmaster, born in the 1930s, wasn't highly educated but possessed a strong sense of justice and humanity, which deeply moved us.

At first, we rode our bicycles back and forth, but as autumn approached, the days grew shorter, and it got dark before school was even over.

The school made several girls squeeze into the female teachers' dormitory, which was unacceptable for us boys. That day, the headmaster and the dean of students called us together and said, "Sigh! What can we do? Seeing you all working so hard from dawn till dusk makes me feel bad! Besides, it's not safe. Do you have any relatives in town? Could you stay with them? It will be easier once spring arrives and the days are longer." A few days later, all the other students went to stay with their relatives, but I had no relatives in town or even the surrounding area. I had no choice but to continue working from dawn till dusk. A few days later, the old principal found me and said, "The old poor farmer who used to be stationed at our school has a place at his house. The old farmer has passed away, but his son is very kind and has agreed to let you stay at his house. Bring your own food. The school has coal; when no one is around, push a cart of it there. If anyone asks, just say I told you to..." On Saturday afternoon, I was pushing my bicycle home when the old principal saw me and said, a little displeased,

"Why didn't you hurry up and do what I promised you?" "I wanted to go home and bring the food first." "Well, how about this? I'll take you to familiarize yourself with the place today, and you can bring the food tomorrow." After saying that, the old principal pointed to the handcart next to the teachers' canteen and said, "Go and bring the cart here." The old principal personally took up a shovel, and together we selected large chunks of coal, filled the cart, and headed towards the old poor farmer's house. As we walked, he instructed me, "Don't be playful, be observant, and help people with chores in your spare time..." To be honest, since I had never left home since childhood, I wasn't very willing to stay at the old poor farmer's son's house, but I couldn't go against the old principal's good intentions. After knocking on the door, a middle-aged woman opened it. Seeing the principal, she greeted him warmly, "The principal's here! Come in quickly!" Then she saw me: "Oh! What a handsome young man! Why are you still pushing coal? We have plenty of fuel." The principal briefly explained my situation, gave me a few words of advice in her presence, and then we left.

On Sunday afternoon, I arrived carrying grain. The woman warmly took the grain sack, opened it, and said, "What fine millet! Oh, and white sorghum too! You must study hard, or you'll be letting your family down." The old poor peasant's son was also home. He said in a loud voice, "From now on, you have to take the grain; you can't eat for free. Coal is unnecessary; we don't need that stuff." Calling him straightforward was accurate, but calling him honest wasn't quite right. Actually, he was quite irritable. At first, I tried to call him "brother" and his wife "sister-in-law" based on the ages of my siblings, but he flatly refused: "You can't call me that! How big are you? Call me uncle, call me aunt!" So I started calling the old poor peasant's son "uncle" and his wife "aunt." I became an unofficial member of their family. They had a son and a daughter; the son was nine years old and attended a primary school in the east of town, while the daughter was just learning to speak.

"Uncle," that year, was 36 years old, a truck driver, burly and uneducated, constantly uttering "fuck!" He was never seen smiling and liked to scold me when he had nothing to do. One evening, he came in and saw the yard was spotless, threw his whip behind the door, and said, "Fuck! What's the point of keeping the yard so clean, you country bumpkins? You could use that time to write a few words!" I was a little afraid of him.

"Auntie" was a very virtuous woman; she never raised her voice. Whenever Uncle scolded me, she would just smile at me, even if he wronged me, she wouldn't defend me. I guess I was going through a rebellious phase then, and no matter how affectionate Auntie tried to be, I felt repulsed, especially when I saw her walking around in her underwear, swaying her ample hips. The most annoying thing was their son, who always rummaged through my schoolbag and sometimes even pestered me to do his homework. Once he was playing with my pen and accidentally dropped it, breaking the tip of the pen. I hated him so much that I wanted to beat him.

But I like their daughter, she is fat and white, and she doesn’t make trouble for me. Once the adults went out, they put her sleeping soundly on my kang, and I looked at her while I was studying. She woke up after a while, and probably saw her mother was not there, grinning and about to cry. Suddenly she saw an apple next to her, so she turned over with great effort and stretched out her little hands to grab it.

Her hands were as big as small apples. She grabbed the apple and rolled it forward. She wriggled forward with her hands and feet and grabbed it again, but the apple rolled forward again and she grabbed it again and again. Finally, she pushed the apple to the ground, and she burst into tears. I didn't care about laughing, I hurriedly picked her up and imitated the movements of an adult, coaxing and coaxing her.

I like to hold her and play with her, but I can't let my uncle see me. He would see this and say, "Old men who like to hold children have no class!" Looking back now, I'm filled with gratitude for that boarding school era. But back then, because I had just left home and knew nothing about the outside world, life wasn't easy. The only thing I felt content with was that every time I came home or before I went home, I could eat a meal of snow-white rice or white flour buns at "Uncle's" house. My family lived in a mountain valley with no irrigated land, and we rarely saw fine grains except during the Spring Festival. The town government was located on a plain, which produced rice and white flour, although not much rice and wheat were grown to maximize the harvest. The first time I ate rice, I felt a little embarrassed and wandered around trying to slip away. "Uncle" said, "Damn it! Just eat yours, what's it to you what you eat!" Because of the excellent learning environment and good living conditions, I not only consistently excelled academically, but my body also grew like a balloon. By the time I was in my third year of junior high school, just turned 16, I was already 1.78 meters tall. "Uncle," with a stern face, said, "Damn it! You got all the good stuff." But fate is unpredictable. That winter, while hauling stones, "Uncle's" horse spooked, and the cart, fully loaded with stones, ran over him. He died shortly after being taken to the hospital.

My feelings about "Uncle's" death were complicated. Although he later somehow found out we had distant relatives while out working as a porter, and under his insistence, I called them "cousin uncle" and "cousin aunt," we were practically strangers. There was no kinship. Plus, he always scolded me, which inevitably fueled some resentment in my strong-willed self-esteem. I even felt a fleeting sense of relief—no one would scold me anymore.

But this feeling vanished quickly. First, we had lived together for over two years, and despite his scolding, it had never affected my studies or life. Second, with such a major change in his family, it was uncertain whether I could continue living there, so I had some concerns. Especially, I felt worried and sympathetic about how this family would survive in the future. I'm not good at expressing my feelings. Whenever my aunt cried, I would go into her room and stand silently in front of her until she stopped crying. On the day of the "49th day after death," I returned home late. When I got home, their youngest daughter, who was still innocent of the world, said, "Mom went to take money to Dad." I rushed to the village entrance without even eating. My aunt was sobbing uncontrollably, and no one could comfort her.

I still stood silently beside her. Someone said, "Don't cry, your student is here." My aunt really did stop crying gradually. After a while, she asked me, "Have you eaten?" "Yes," I replied. Perhaps my silent comfort was more powerful than words. I rarely heard my aunt cry after that. I should say that during this period, whether I wanted to or not, whether it was out of affection or not, I was sharing my aunt's immense grief. The food was still delicious, and there was even more refined grain than before.

The kang (heated brick bed) was still warm. Since their son had gone back to his room, I moved from the end of the kang to the head. But there were no more scoldings, no more laughter; the once incessant yelling had completely disappeared. My aunt was silent all day. The children seemed to have grown up instantly, studying quietly, eating quietly, sleeping quietly. Time passed quietly in silence.

Winter vacation arrived, and it was already the 23rd of the twelfth lunar month when vacation started. After a meeting at school, I didn't go straight home but went to my aunt's house. For various reasons, I decided to go home. When I arrived, I first frantically chopped a huge pile of firewood, then filled the water vat, and finally swept the yard clean. My aunt looked at me suspiciously. After everything was ready, I walked up to her: "Aunt, next spring it will be long, and I want to go home. Thank you for troubling me for so long. In the future… I will repay you." For some reason, as I said these words, my heart suddenly ached, and my voice choked.

My aunt sat silently by the stove, and before she could speak, tears streamed down her face. Suddenly she looked up, even smiling, "I know you're leaving. Go! This house is too messy, I'm sorry to have troubled you." My aunt's smile made my heart pound, and I quickly explained, "No..." "Sigh! No need to explain... The house is like this, it's affecting your studies too." As my aunt said, her family was small and lived far away, and her uncle had a bad temper and offended many villagers when he was alive. Her children were still young, and the hardships of life ahead were unimaginable.

On the 30th, my hometown was filled with the atmosphere of the New Year. My friends and I returned home close to noon after visiting the graves.

Looking at the colorful couplets, hanging decorations, and dishes filling the kitchen, I suddenly thought of "Aunt." What were they like during this time of celebration? Was my little brother still clamoring for firecrackers? Did my little sister have a pretty dress?

Was my aunt sitting on the kang (heated brick bed) crying again? Instantly, all the good things about my aunt flooded my mind, and my mood plummeted. I sat alone on the steps, lost in thought. After admiring the New Year's paintings, Dad came out of the house and saw me. He stared at me in surprise and asked, "What's wrong? What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" When I didn't answer, he became a little impatient: "Speak up, you little rascal!" Mom heard this and came out, her hands covered in flour. My brother, sister-in-law, and sister all gathered around with their assigned tasks.

I knew that Dad wouldn't let this go without a clear explanation. Dad loved his children. He didn't care much about minor illnesses or injuries; what he feared most was his children being bullied outside. Even Mom said he was "overprotective." By this time, with age and knowledge, I could express my subjective thoughts and objective facts completely. When I vividly recounted the kindness my "aunt" had shown me and her family's experiences, Mom, sister-in-law, and sister's eyes all reddened. After a moment of silence, Dad suddenly said, "Go there and take some New Year's goods. If it gets late, stay there and come back early tomorrow." Mom said disapprovingly, "It's the New Year, can't someone else make a trip? Does it have to be him?" After hearing Mom's words, my brother said, "I'll go," and went inside to change his clothes.

Dad said, "Who can represent him? Let him go. He's grown up now, he should know how to repay kindness." So, I took a sack of steamed buns, rice cakes, frozen tofu, and a bunch of mushrooms I had picked myself, which Mom and my sister-in-law had prepared, and rode my bicycle at breakneck speed to my "aunt's" house. I arrived

at my "aunt's" house around 3 pm, when we were having our New Year's dinner. Pushing open the half-closed door, there were no couplets or hanging decorations. The withered branches and fallen leaves rolling in the wind in the yard added to the desolation. I carried the sack of flour into the cold and quiet main room. My aunt must have heard the door open. With a sorrowful voice, she asked, "Who is it?" "It's me! Aunt, I'm here!" She lifted the curtain, her disheveled hair and wide eyes in surprise. "Why are you here?" "I came to see you, to spend the New Year with you." Tears immediately streamed down her face.

Inside, my younger brother was sitting at the table doing his homework, staring at me with wide, unfamiliar eyes.

My younger sister was clinging to my mother's clothes, following her around.

I knew I hadn't come just to deliver New Year's goods; my main task was to break the awkward silence.

After a moment's thought, I asked, "Aunt, have you cooked?" Since my uncle's passing, I'd simply called her "Aunt." "You haven't eaten yet?" "Yes, and besides, you all need to eat too." "Okay, I'll cook for you." After saying that, Auntie went to the kitchen, and I followed her out. I said to her very experiencedly, "Auntie, I understand how you feel. Uncle is gone, but we still have to celebrate. Besides, your younger siblings are still young, and we can't leave too much of a shadow on their young hearts." Perhaps my words touched Auntie's motherly heart, because she happily said, "Yes, we still have to celebrate. We'll celebrate the New Year!" I went back into the house and said to my younger brother, who was already showing signs of joy, "Come on, I'll take you to buy firecrackers." My younger brother jumped up on the ground with joy, while my younger sister shouted, "I want to go too!" After all, they are all children! I picked up my younger sister with emotion and led my younger brother out the door. Auntie seemed to have broken free from her grief, and a long-lost smile appeared on her face: "I'll get you some money!" "I have money!" Yes, I had money. Every year during Chinese New Year, my family and other close relatives would give me lucky money. Although it was a small amount, prices were extremely low back then; 500 firecrackers only cost a few cents.

Arriving at the only shop in town, I found it already closed. Yes! Today is the Spring Festival, and everyone has gone home early. Seeing the disappointment in my younger siblings' eyes, I resolved not to disappoint them. I thought of going home to get the firecrackers, taking them home, and making them wait, then lying to them that I would buy them somewhere else. As I rode my bicycle home, I thought getting the firecrackers wouldn't be a problem, but the round trip would take nearly two hours, so it seemed impossible to spend the New Year at my own home.

To be honest, I didn't intend to spend the New Year at my aunt's house; I'd just go home a little later. Because nothing felt warmer than spending the New Year with my parents. As I rode, I looked at both sides of the road, hoping to see a vendor carrying a load. I didn't see any vendors. When I passed my classmate Miao XX's house, a sudden thought struck me: why not borrow some from him? A strong feeling compelled me to get off my bicycle in front of his house. As soon as I stepped into my classmate's house, Miao XX saw me through the window. He ran out in surprise, exclaiming, "Hey, what are you doing here?" In this rather unique school, the interactions between classmates fully embodied the philosophy of "birds of a feather flock together." Those children of officials, relying on their wealth and power, were always arrogant and haughty; we students, who entered based on our own merit, were poor, but because of our excellent grades, we looked down on them. Those students who entered through district-based admission had nothing to boast about, naturally becoming the most inconspicuous lower class. My unexpected visit seemed to make Miao XX feel important, so he was particularly attentive.

After I explained my purpose, Miao XX readily said, "No need to borrow, I have plenty, I'll give you half." He then went inside to get it. When Aunt Miao heard what had happened, she came out and said emotionally, "What a good child! Do you need anything else?" Regardless of whether I wanted it or not, the old woman filled a handkerchief with dates, sour pears, apples, and other things, insisting on giving them to me. Miao XX felt there weren't enough firecrackers after taking them out, but he couldn't bear to take any more of his own. After thinking for a moment, he said, "Wait a minute." Then he jumped on my bicycle and sped off.

A moment later, he returned, panting, carrying a bunch of firecrackers. As he got off his bike, he said, "I snatched them from Zhang XX; he had more than me." He put all the firecrackers in a bamboo basket and stuffed it into my hand. I felt a little embarrassed.

Seeing my hesitation, he pushed and pulled me towards the door, saying, "You go first, I'll go after I finish eating!" Before he finished speaking, he had already dashed into the house.

Back at my aunt's house, my younger brother hurriedly took the bamboo basket, and soon the yard was filled with the sounds of the New Year.

My younger sister squatted by the doorstep, rummaging through the fruit in her pocket, occasionally telling her mother what was inside. My aunt watched us with a mixture of sadness and joy, her hands constantly pumping the bellows. My aunt's family wasn't poor; she just hadn't prepared any New Year's goods because she was in a bad mood. Perhaps she felt a little guilty towards her children? Her eyes shone with boundless loving kindness.

Just as I picked up a broom to sweep the yard, Miao XX arrived with several classmates, their chatter unexpected. Surprisingly, two girls who never spoke to me also awkwardly entered the yard. Without being told, everyone sprang into action: some swept the yard, some pumped water, and the two girls rolled up their sleeves to wipe the dust inside the house.

Although Miao XX wasn't a good student, he had a special interest in electricity. He forced his aunt to find a bunch of stiff electrical wires in the junkyard, pull them from the house and hang them on the jujube tree in the yard, attach light sockets, screw in light bulbs, and flip the switch—it lit up. He then meticulously coiled the excess wire into various patterns, which looked quite nice to the eye. I've forgotten the name of the shortest student, but seeing that everything was ready except for the couplets, he clamored to go home and get them, saying he had plenty left. His aunt smiled and stopped him, and thinking she was being shy, he asked me for his bicycle. I smiled and winked at him, and he said "Oh, oh" twice and then fell silent. I understood, "Remembering the deceased requires three years of mourning, and cherishing the memory of ancestors is a constant sentiment." For three years, his aunt's house couldn't be decorated with red or green.

The yard was small, and the rooms weren't big either. Soon all the work was done, and the several hands and several brains that had been working at high speed suddenly stopped, leaving them somewhat at a loss. Miao XX stared at his aunt and asked, "Is there any work left? Is there anything else?" "Really, there's nothing left to do. Let's eat!" his aunt said.

"We've all eaten," the classmates said in unison.

"Then eat a little less and try your aunt's cooking." I was hungry too, and seeing my younger siblings looking so hungry, I knew I couldn't refuse any longer, so I urged everyone,

"Eat a little less!" The table was small, and there were many people. Everyone, standing or sitting, gathered around noisily, and finished eating in no time.

Before we could even clean up, Miao XX shouted, "Let's set off firecrackers!" People rushed into the yard. It was already dusk, and the neighbors had already turned on their lights. We turned on our lights as well, and the yard was instantly bright. People were setting off firecrackers, lighting fireworks, and snapping firecrackers, and laughter filled the small yard. The neighbors on both sides, whether out of envy or jealousy, would occasionally peek over the wall. I knew that my uncle hadn't gotten along well with the neighbors when he was alive, and now my aunt needed someone to put on a good show. Sure enough, I saw a look of satisfaction on my aunt's face.

Miao XX was intently lighting a double-bang firecracker when my aunt suddenly called out to him, "Genzi (Miao's childhood name)." "Yes!" Miao XX didn't turn around, but simply strained his ear towards my aunt's direction, his hand still fiddling with the firecracker.

"I need a favor!" "Say it!" The firecracker was already lit, and Miao XX staggered, stretching out his left hand, waiting for it to explode.

"Can you guys take us back?" My aunt's use of "we" confused me as well.

"Bang...bang!" The firecracker soared into the sky.

Miao XX shook his numb hand and asked in surprise, "Who?" "Sikai!" My aunt pointed at me.

Miao XX looked at me suspiciously.

I knew that my aunt would be happy if I stayed. But the allure of home and my parents was irresistible. My aunt knew this all too well, so she asked my classmates to take me home.

Seeing my silence, Miao XX understood my thoughts: "Damn! Aren't you spending the New Year here?" That "Damn!" resonated deeply with both my aunt and me. Since "Uncle" passed away, that word had disappeared from this courtyard. I was with my classmates every day, so I naturally heard it often, but at this moment, the scene stirred my emotions. My aunt, who rarely left her house, would never have heard this almost vulgar yet widely circulated curse. This word had been with her for ten years; how would she feel now that it had suddenly vanished? I involuntarily turned my gaze to her, and sure enough, her face darkened. This scene almost shook my resolve to go home, but Miao XX, oblivious to the situation, continued to nag: "Then let's go, I still want to play cards with you." I stole a glance at my aunt's expression and saw that her face gradually softened, a smile returning to her face. Whether it was a forced smile or not, I wished her a Happy New Year and said goodbye.

My aunt said, "Come with me for a moment." I followed her into the west room. She emptied the bag of flour I had brought, filled it with rice and peanuts, and then took out five yuan from her pocket and gave it to me. Seeing her extremely solemn expression, I didn't dare refuse, but a wave of indescribable sorrow welled up inside me. As we walked out of the west room, my aunt said, "After the New Year, you should still... come back!" Her voice held sadness, longing, expectation, and pleading.

"I'll come!" As people saw me off, I quietly said to two female classmates when my aunt wasn't looking, "Please, please stay a little longer, okay?" The last few words clearly carried a heavy sorrow. The female classmates, who were prone to tears, immediately filled their eyes with tears upon hearing my words, and simply nodded vigorously... This year was the year of the high school entrance exam for the third-year junior high students, and the school required them to return to school on the seventh day of the first lunar month.

I had planned to leave early on the morning of the seventh day of the Lunar New Year, but my mother reminded me, "Since you're going to stay with other people anyway, you might as well go a day earlier. Help them with some chores, and when you have free time, visit your uncle's grave. It's the Lunar New Year, and you can only visit graves at noon; other times don't count." To be honest, I had completely forgotten about my aunt's house these past few days

, having been having so much fun. My mother's words reminded me, and I urged them to pack my things. Around 10 a.m., I returned to my aunt's house. My aunt heard the bicycle bell ringing in the yard and came out to greet me. Seeing it was me, she said with delight, "I knew you'd be here." I wished my aunt a Happy New Year and pretended to kneel down (in rural areas, close relatives kowtow when visiting each other for the New Year), but my aunt grabbed me and said, "Don't do that. Save it for my nephew to grow up." In the end, I just bowed. My aunt scolded me for bringing so much food while helping me carry the bags of grain and luggage into the room. After I entered the house, my aunt asked about my parents and what had happened after I left on New Year's Eve: "After you left that day, those two girls didn't leave, and those male classmates came back and also came to our house. They played cards and checkers, and they didn't leave until

the New Year's paper offering (to welcome the God of Wealth). They also came by in twos and threes during the first few days of the Lunar New Year. I've been married into this family for 11 years, and this year's New Year was the most lively one yet. I forgot all my worries." As she spoke, my aunt patted the dust off me: "It seems you're not only good at studying, but also quite popular!" After saying that, my aunt started making lunch. Seeing that there wasn't much to do, I called my younger brother and we went out. My aunt thought we were going out to play, so she told us, "Come back quickly, lunch will be ready soon." Although my younger brother is only ten years old, he seems to have grown up overnight since our father passed away. He not only studies hard but also often rushes to help my mother with chores within his ability.

When we returned, I saw my aunt looking out from the gate. Seeing us, she said with a mixture of worry and reproach, "Where have you been? The food's cold." When she saw my expression and my younger brother's tear stains, she understood and gratefully ushered us inside. After dinner, my aunt said to me in a consultative tone, "Sikai, the kang (heated brick bed) in the west room hasn't been heated in a long time, and the room is very cold. Would it be alright if we, the children, slept on this kang?" Seeing my shyness and hesitation, she added, "I'm your aunt, what are you afraid of? First, it saves firewood by not heating another kang, and the room will be warmer when we're all together; second, I'm a little scared after your uncle left..." I didn't have any other thoughts, mainly because I was worried that my studies would be very demanding after school started, and studying late every day would disturb their rest. I was also afraid that the two children would cause trouble. At that time, high school was rare, and most junior high students didn't get into high school. Although I was confident, the pressure was still there. Since my aunt said so, what could I say? I readily agreed. At night, my aunt arranged for me to sit at the head of the kang (heated brick

bed), my younger brother next to me, and her at the far end. In fact, my aunt was right; sharing a kang saved firewood and made the room extra warm. She kept the two children very disciplined, and they never disturbed my studies. Whenever the night was deep and quiet, after they had gone to sleep, I would set up the kang table and study late into the night by lamplight. After summer arrived, I suggested moving to the west room to live alone, but my aunt dissuaded me, saying she was afraid of the night.

After this change, especially after the Spring Festival, my aunt took meticulous care of me. Every day, she would put food in the pot, telling me to eat whenever I was hungry. Later, seeing that I never touched the food in the pot, she would get up in the middle of the night, put on her clothes, and give me some snacks or a bowl of malted milk. Whenever this happened, I would smile gratefully and then continue studying.

For nearly a year, from the second semester of junior high to the first semester of senior high, we spent our time in this warm and harmonious way.

Before the high school entrance exam, I had a fierce internal struggle. My family wants me to apply to the county's top high school, which I also aspire to attend. It's the best school in the county, and with my grades, getting in shouldn't be a problem. However, the monthly food and accommodation expenses of 15 yuan are causing my father some worry.

The old principal naturally hoped I would apply to our school's high school. Before the exam, he called a meeting and said, "In terms of reputation, we don't have the same prestige as No. 1 High School, but the level of our main teachers is absolutely no worse. Your grades would be top-notch even at No. 1 High School. The uneven academic performance of our students is due to societal reasons. Here's the problem: at No. 1 High School, nobody knows you; you're just ordinary students. Here, you're our precious students, and I will use all my resources to nurture you. This isn't because I'm overly concerned with fame and fortune; too many students get in through connections every year, making it impossible for me to be the principal. If we don't take this approach, our key school will collapse in less than two years. I'll retire in a few years, and I won't be afraid of anything anymore. In any case, I want those who got in based on their academic performance to have a good outcome; otherwise, I'll be letting your parents down. Go back and discuss it with your parents. Even the best schools have bad students, and even the worst schools have good students. Besides, studying here can save us some money." The old principal's words had already solidified my determination to apply to our school, but when I returned to my aunt's house, I still earnestly sought her opinion and clearly stated that I wanted to apply to No. 1 High School. After I explained the situation, she remained silent for a long time before finally saying softly, "Go if you want to. Tuition isn't a problem; I'll pay for it." I was touched and couldn't bear to lie to her anymore: "Actually, I've already made up my mind; I'll take the entrance exam for this school." My aunt looked up, stared at me blankly for a long time, then suddenly blushed, gritted her teeth, and slapped me hard with the sole of a shoe she was sewing: "Tell me, is it because you're reluctant to let your aunt go?" "That's part of it," I answered truthfully, laughing and dodging.

My aunt was very excited. Since the day I met her, I had never seen her express her true feelings so openly. I suddenly noticed that my aunt was actually very beautiful.

While I was still hesitating about which school to apply to, my younger brother quietly passed the entrance exam for the county's No. 1 Middle School and started boarding. Although I was five years older than my younger brother, I started school two years later because my home was far from the school, while my younger brother started a year earlier because his home was near the school. All things considered, I was only three years older than my younger brother.

On September 1st, I stepped into Class 1 of the first year of high school, backpack on my back. That teacher, always full of quirky remarks but incredibly experienced, became my homeroom teacher. Upon seeing me, she mimicked Yin Chuan from *Dream of the Red Chamber*, saying, "The phoenix has arrived! Come in quickly!" The first year of high school was the most relaxed. Although the school and teachers kept reminding us, they intentionally or unintentionally loosened their management. Because my uncle was injured in the line of duty, the village was responsible for cultivating our family's contracted land; we only tended our own vegetable garden. In my spare time, besides helping my aunt with farm work, I had no other burdens.

Confident in my intelligence and good foundation, I picked up sports I'd loved in elementary school, like basketball and table tennis, playing them all day long. My aunt had reminded me to study hard several times. I still ranked first in the whole school in the midterm exams. At noon, I showed my grades to my aunt, and she happily hugged and kissed me. This unusually affectionate gesture foreshadowed the later "unspeakable" events.

Previously, although my relationship with my aunt was almost ambiguous, she didn't deliberately hide her private life from me. For example, when she relieved herself in the vegetable garden, she would simply walk a few steps away, turn her back, and loosen her belt. After my younger brother started boarding school, she would ask me to accompany her when she got up at night. I never had any improper thoughts, always believing it was a privilege of an elder. We always maintained a harmonious and pure relationship.

Now it seems that the foundation of this harmony and purity is unreliable. After all, she wasn't an elder in the true sense.

When a person's psychological rebellious phase passes, what follows is a desire to understand the mystery of the opposite sex. With age and the maturation of sexual organs and sexual awareness, there is generally an urge to try things out. This urge, besides being influenced by environment and conditions, is mainly subjectively bound by traditional moral ethics. But once the environment and conditions are right, morality and ethics become powerless, and sex becomes ubiquitous. Mencius said, "Sex is about food and sex." An elderly professor in his fifties during my university years put it even more bluntly when discussing physiology: "Sex is the foundation of the reproduction and development of humankind and even all things in the universe; without sex, there is nothing." I was already 18 years old, and in this environment, besides emotional barriers, I was mainly too busy with studies to think about sex. When these obstacles disappeared, facing a mature woman I'd just met—charming, kind, and only 33 years old—the age gap wasn't large enough to resist the general laws of attraction between the sexes, it was inevitable that I would feel a lustful desire.

My aunt, after more than a year of adjustment, had emerged from the shadow of grief, her life was back on track, and her children were no longer with her (her daughter was in preschool). Facing a strong, tall man, someone she spent every day with, someone she considered a close friend, yet someone she'd only met briefly, the theory of "sex is about food and sex" also applied.

My aunt's kiss instantly aroused me with an uncontrollable excitement. Impulse overwhelmed reason. After the kiss, I hugged her tightly, so much so that my penis became erect and pressed against her abdomen, which was only separated by a thin sheet of cloth, due to the soft, smooth flesh of her body. My aunt must have felt it. After a moment of silence, she tapped my forehead with her finger, then pushed me away, blushing, and said, "The children will be back for dinner soon. Let's see if they run into each other." Afterwards, although I felt ashamed and remorseful, I couldn't suppress my gaze at my aunt's snow-white breasts, slender waist, and rounded buttocks. A possessive desire began to grow.

I knew that my aunt was not just a housewife, nor was she uneducated. She had graduated from a teacher training school in Wuxi, Jiangsu Province, in the early days of the Cultural Revolution. A few years earlier, she had been a teacher at the Dongtou Elementary School in the town. My younger brother's good grades and early start in school were thanks to my aunt's help. At the end of 1979, at my uncle's insistence, she gave birth to a daughter and resigned from her job because of the one-child policy. As for why this beautiful woman from Jiangnan ultimately married a penniless villager, my aunt never said, and I never asked; it remains a mystery to this day. Although my aunt was 34 and had two children, she maintained her skin and figure very well because she didn't do manual labor, making her look younger than her actual age. In particular, she possessed the prominent breasts and full hips characteristic of northern women, making her alluring and sexy. My aunt's status and figure undoubtedly intensified my longing for her.

My aunt could sense my desire, but she never reprimanded or advised me, always just laughing it off. Whether it was due to her virtuous character or her own yearning for love and intentional indulgence, I don't know. My own desires gradually swelled, yet I dared not act rashly.

One afternoon, not long after the start of the next semester, during self-study, I realized I had forgotten my math workbook and hurriedly went back to get it. I opened the gate and entered the yard, only to find the house door locked. I assumed my aunt had gone to the vegetable garden, so without thinking much of it, I unlocked the door. Pushing it open, I saw my aunt standing naked in the center of the main room, taking a bath. I stood there, stunned, staring at her flawless white body. Suddenly, she cried out and crouched down, instinctively covering her breasts with her hands, her hairy private parts completely exposed. Seeing me staring, she said with a hint of anger, "What are you looking at?

Come inside." Suddenly snapping out of my daze, I hurriedly went into the bedroom, calmed myself down, and guessed my aunt was already dressed, so I came out with my exercise book. My aunt had a yellow towel wrapped around her from her breasts to her knees, her expression serene, and she asked with a smile, "What are you doing back at this hour?" I was initially ashamed of my reprimand, but seeing my aunt's expression and her exposed skin, my lust quickly returned. I didn't answer her, but instead, with a flirtatious grin, I wrapped my arms around her waist and nuzzled her breasts with my mouth. My aunt was initially hesitant, but just as I mustered the courage to take things further, she pulled her hand away from mine and said, "Stop fooling around, go to school. We'll talk about it tonight." I wouldn't, and dared not, force her, especially since she said, "We'll talk about it tonight." This was undoubtedly a glimmer of hope. I let go of my aunt, made a face at her, and went back to school. All afternoon, my mind was filled with images of my aunt's snow-white skin, small breasts, and dark private parts... After school, I politely declined my friends' invitations and went back to my aunt's house early. Seeing that I was back early, my aunt smiled and said, "Good morning!" I used the same trick again, brazenly hugging her and saying, "Auntie, I'll sleep next to you tonight." "Go, go pick up your little sister!" My aunt habitually tapped my forehead and went to cook.

That evening, I couldn't concentrate on my studies, and just after 9 o'clock, I shouted, "I'm sleepy, let's go to sleep!" My little sister was obedient; hearing that it was time to sleep, she lay down between us and fell asleep in no time. Looking at my younger sister's spot and then at my aunt who remained unmoved, I felt a little annoyed. I deliberately ignored her, and without even taking off my socks, I lay down to sleep fully clothed (I usually sleep in my underwear). After a moment of silence, my aunt whispered, "Useless!" As she spoke, she pushed my younger sister, along with her mattress and blanket, to the end of the bed, leaving space between us. I immediately went from being annoyed to happy, looking at my aunt with gratitude.

My aunt, her face flushed, glanced at me, moved her bedding over, paused for a moment, let out a couple of deep breaths, then turned off the light, got into bed, took off her clothes, and crawled into her own.

If my actions and thoughts needed some concealment under the light, in the darkness, all my lewdness was brazenly revealed. I was excited, aroused, and terrified. After what seemed like an eternity, my hand timidly slipped under the edge of her blanket and touched her smooth breasts.

She seemed to want to push me away, but after gently moving my hand slightly, she let go weakly. After a while, I became bolder, my hand gradually moving down, touching her smooth, soft belly and then her shorts. When I tried to slip my hand under the edge of her shorts, she grabbed my hand again, but instead placed it on her own breast. This happened several times. I struggled free and finally touched her bushy, tangled pubic hair, then stroked her wet, soft vulva. Instantly, I felt like I was electrified, my blood boiling, losing all sense of reason and self. I jumped up and ripped off my clothes (without taking off my shorts), pulled back the covers from my aunt's bed, and roughly straddled her, my hands touching her breasts, my mouth nibbling at her lips and chest, my body twisting violently.

My aunt touched my shorts and said, "Take them off." I kicked off my shorts with my hands and feet, my thick, hard penis pressed against my aunt's private parts. To this day, I don't know when my aunt's shorts were gone. My aunt remained calm, occasionally letting out a sigh or two. When she realized I didn't know how to have sex, she turned to the side, grasped my penis, and aimed it at one of her parts. I applied a little force, feeling a slippery, soft, and smooth sensation, a wave of pleasure washing over me. My penis entered deep into my aunt's body, and my aunt and I almost simultaneously gasped, "Ah!"

After the gasp, my aunt remained calm. I thought all women were like this, letting men do as they pleased. But as the piston-like movements reached a frenzied, chaotic point, and the first spurt of semen flooded my aunt's body, she suddenly went wild, letting out suppressed moans, her hips twisting wildly, her hands sometimes tightening, sometimes pushing away. Most pleasurable was the way her genitals opened and closed powerfully with the frequency of my ejaculation… I woke up just as dawn was breaking and was shocked to see her and me still naked, embracing each other. What would I say if her daughter saw us? Even though she was young, she could describe and repeat things. I hurriedly scrambled back into my own bed and put on my clothes. She woke up too, looked around in equal fear, then pinched me hard and sat up to wipe the stained sheets…

Normally, we would both be up by this time. I had to go to early morning study, and she had to prepare breakfast for me. I had no interest in studying. When she finished dressing and went to the kitchen to cook, I followed her out, grabbed her, and slipped my hand inside her waistband. She said, "I knew you weren't done. Sigh! I shouldn't have done this with you." As she spoke, she unbuckled her belt.

My aunt had given birth to two children, so her genitals were naturally more relaxed, making penetration easy. But once inside, she enveloped my penis tightly.

Again, she entered a frenzied state during ejaculation (years of experience proved that our sex life was most harmonious; we almost always reached orgasm simultaneously).

The barrier between us had been broken, the chasm had been filled, and there was no more shyness or bashfulness. Aside from some psychological issues due to her age, her libido was extremely strong. That afternoon, I skipped school. As soon as she returned from dropping off her children, I carried her to the kang (heated brick bed), stripped her clothes off, and indulged in admiring and playing with her genitals. She also openly kissed my penis. That night, even though I was exhausted, I still secretly lifted her blanket and ravaged her. From then on, I was trapped in a quagmire of indulgence from which I could not extricate myself.

This description is somewhat absurd, sordid, and vulgar, but it is the truth, and since it has been written, there is no need to cover it up.

I believe that men and women, especially in the early stages of sex, should have similar feelings, at most differing only in degree. We are not promiscuous people, as later events can prove, but not being promiscuous does not mean having no desire for sex.

She possessed endearing qualities that most women lack, including both physical and personality traits. I often wonder, how could such an excellent woman have fallen to the status of a peasant woman? Was this also a consequence of "XX"? She had no temper, always smiling whether at me, her children, or strangers.

She had frustrations, worries, and sorrows, but she never took them out on others. She was a seemingly weak woman, yet she was so resolute and calm in the face of major changes. Even today, as an official in charge of a certain area, whenever I recall her delicate, generous, gentle, and resolute character traits—seemingly contradictory yet organically combined—I am filled with admiration and feel ashamed of my own inferiority.

The sadness and confusion after her resignation, her husband's rudeness and tyranny, and the sharp conflicts with her neighbors—all of this greatly damaged her physical and mental health. When I first met her, her hair, though black, was disheveled; her face, though pale, was haggard; her smile, though present, was bitter. She was always cautious, like a maid or a child bride from an old era. Since I entered her life, from the initial budding mother-son relationship to lovers and then husband, her body and mind have undergone a complete recovery (in her own words). Her

appearance is completely different from before. During lovemaking, I once asked, "How come I never noticed how beautiful you were before?" She smiled and said, "A son's feelings for his mother cannot distinguish between beauty and ugliness." The truth is, when I first arrived, I rarely looked at her directly, let alone examined her closely. So, her attentiveness and obedience were merely for survival. My appearance injected new vitality into her life—something I never expected, but she understood.

She once said, "A woman with a lovable man can keep her forever young." What I am most fascinated by is her naked body: fair and delicate, with well-proportioned curves and a graceful, flowing texture; lying on it is as gentle as water. Most women have a small patch of pubic hair on their mons pubis below the lower abdomen, but hers covered the area around her vagina from the lower abdomen down, thick and fluffy. Her labia majora were like a watershed, smooth and full, like a proud boulder standing tall in the jungle; her labia minora were thick and rosy, stubbornly protruding beyond the labia majora. This unique physiological structure was perfectly suited to the thrusting and withdrawing of my large penis. I had dated two girlfriends (including my wife), but neither was as comfortable and pleasant as her. I asked her what her ethnicity was. She said, "Although I am Han Chinese, I also have Mongolian ancestry. My maternal grandmother was pure Mongolian." Remembering a vulgar saying widely circulated in my hometown, I recited it to her: "Mongolian pussy, high-waisted, gets itchy after three days without sex. No wonder you're so attractive, you're mixed race!" I teased, and she leaned over and pinched my face.

Since my aunt was virtuous and had picked up the habit of spoiling men common among women in our hometown, she started giving me special treatment from the moment we began our sexual relationship. I had to have eggs every morning. From then on, she resolutely forbade me from taking any more grain from home, demanding that I explain to my family that my labor was enough to cover the cost of grain. And I, captivated by her gentle embrace, became so engrossed that I didn't want to go back to school or return home. It wasn't until two events two months later that we finally came to our senses.

In early November, her period didn't come, and she became restless. I didn't understand, and I kept pestering her for sex. Although she rarely refused, she was clearly not focused during intercourse. What puzzled me most was that every time I ejaculated, she would try to pull away from me. Only when I got angry did she calmly tell me with a smile, "I might be pregnant." I was horrified.

At that time, society was enforcing family planning. Many families with more children than allowed were ruined. Couples with one child were required to use contraception (IUDs); couples with two children were required to undergo sterilization surgery. My aunt had an IUD after giving birth to her last child, but after my uncle's death, the relevant departments neglected the sterilization requirements. It probably wasn't properly inserted due to poor technology at the rural medical facility, or it was dislodged because of too frequent and vigorous sexual activity. My biggest worry was the social environment at the time, while her biggest worry was her reputation and my future. The fear of being exposed was no joke. There's a saying: "A widow giving birth—she has a secret in her belly," but her secret couldn't be kept for so long.

I, who had always been fearless, was now terrified. Seeing me listless all day, my aunt comforted me, saying,

"Don't be afraid, wait a few days and see. If you're really pregnant, I'll find a way." But I knew that finding a way back then was easier said than done.

Even a legitimate pregnancy and abortion required paperwork. Another half month passed, feeling like an eternity, and still nothing.

One day, my aunt smiled and said to me, "It seems we can't wait any longer. If we wait any longer, people will notice, and we'll be laughed at to death." "What should we do?" I asked.

"You'll have to work hard these next few days. I'm going back to my parents' house; I'll be back in a week at most

." "I can manage on my own, but what about my little sister?" "I'll take her with me." The next day, my aunt asked for leave for my little sister and left by train that evening. I felt like I was living a life of misery at home, eating only one meal a day at most. On the fourth day, she returned. Seeing her pale face, I asked worriedly, "How are you?" "It's all over!" It turned out she hadn't gone to her parents' house, but had gone to a hospital in Handan to visit a classmate. I was so excited that I forgot my child was still there and rushed over to pick her up. Luckily, the child was taking off her shoes and didn't see me. [One problem after another. Just as my aunt was resting in bed, my midterm exam results came out. I only passed 3 out of 12 subjects, and none of the 5 main subjects. I heard that math was supposed to be passable, but the math teacher tore up my paper halfway through because my answers were so messy—and I was the math class representative! My grades caused a huge uproar at school.] I went from being a phoenix to a drowned rat.

First, my homeroom teacher, who taught Chinese, spoke to me: "You can't really tell what's going on in the first year of high school, but things start to diverge in the second year. Were you eliminated before the second year even started?" Then the dean of students asked: "What exactly happened? Did you get arrogant?" The math teacher was the most decisive, immediately announcing in the classroom: "X Sikai is removed from his position as math class representative!" The school's Youth League secretary, the youngest female teacher and political science teacher, was quite cultured and had a keen sense of trends. She smiled throughout her conversation with me: "Got a boyfriend, huh?" To be honest, I hated her. To this day, I don't like people who do political work.

Only the old principal's words brought tears to my eyes: "One exam doesn't prove anything. I believe in you!" I walked in dejectedly. My aunt reached out from under the covers and touched my forehead: "Are you feeling unwell?" I handed her my report card, and she suddenly sat up, staring at me blankly. We were speechless.

My aunt's naked, alluring body was visible through the gap in the covers, but I had no interest in appreciating it.

It was already dark; it was time to pick up the kids. After careful consideration, I said to my aunt in a firm voice, "Auntie, I'm going to pick up the child. Let's see what happens next time. If I still don't do well on the exam, I'll never see you again!" "Okay! I'm relieved to hear that. It was all my fault before; I was too indulgent. We'll be more careful from now on. My biggest worry is that I'll let your parents down. But, you won't see me next time if you don't do well?" My aunt seemed much more relaxed... I smiled at her and went out to pick up the child without saying anything.

For nearly two months after that, we didn't make love. To focus on my studies, I asked to live alone again. She agreed, and only then did I realize that she hadn't let me live alone before because she was afraid of the night. After I moved out, she was afraid to turn off the lights.

I studied diligently, and she took meticulous care of me. The school even held a special meeting to discuss the reasons for my decline and assigned several teachers to give me special help. In January 1984, I once again achieved top marks in the first semester final exams of my first year of high school.

That noon, I excitedly walked in and handed her my report card. After looking at it, she jumped up and hugged me like a child. The long-suppressed desire finally erupted. As I unbuckled her belt, she hesitated and asked, "Is it okay?" I asked her, "Aren't you sure?" Having learned my lesson from last time, I didn't dare to be reckless again.

"I'm fine, I'm afraid it will affect your studies again." "Just once, it won't affect anything." She obediently got onto the bed and took off her clothes. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and we made love passionately, so much so that her daughter called for her mother in the yard, startling me so much that I hurriedly grabbed my clothes and ran back to my room.

If before I didn't understand love, responsibility, or obligation, and only had sex for the sake of sex, these two setbacks have made me much more rational and mature. That night, after her daughter fell asleep, she came to my room, and we hugged and talked for a long time. I proposed for the first time: "Let's get married after I get into university." Although she didn't agree, I could tell she was very excited; long after we finished, she held me tightly.

Sex, once tried, is hard to forget. Especially since we lived together, it was almost impossible to completely abstain, but learning from our two previous experiences, we exercised good restraint, agreeing to only have sex once a week. It turns out that regular and moderate sexual activity is beneficial to mental recovery and physical health. Regular sexual activity also promoted my studies.

In August 1986, I successfully entered a prestigious university in Shanghai.

My hometown was abuzz with excitement. My parents, relatives, teachers, and the principal were overjoyed. Posters were plastered all the way from the school to the entrance of the county's No. 1 Middle School. Yes, in those days, for a rural middle school to produce an undergraduate, especially at a prestigious university, the sensation was both imaginable and completely understandable. When I finally managed to escape all the social engagements and return to my aunt's side, she stood at the door smiling, just as she had when she welcomed me to my new home. I was so carried away that I didn't care that my child was right next to me, or even that the neighbors were watching, and I picked her up in my arms. The child laughed and jumped around, saying, "Brother's going to university! Brother's hugging Mommy!" I didn't try to hide anything.

My aunt was surprisingly calm. When I put her down, she smoothed her hair and still smiled, saying, "Haven't eaten yet? Auntie'll go make you some food." Her calmness was like a bucket of cold water poured over me, and I immediately sobered up. From the moment I received my acceptance letter, I never stepped through that door. Putting myself in her shoes, if I were her, having devoted six years of my life to nurturing a poor scholar, sending him to the "dragon gate," only to have him abandon his old home before even taking flight, how would I feel?

I know I was wrong, though I had my reasons, though I would never be a heartless man. I didn't comfort her, nor did I offer sweet words; I knew any words would be inadequate at that moment. I tried to act more like a husband, discussing the mundane details of life with her, and subtly instructing her on how to take care of herself and our home after I left.

She just smiled.

After dinner, with the children asleep, she came to my room, declaring, "I've come to chat with you for a while; there won't be many more opportunities." Without much thought, I briefly recounted the past few days' activities and then embraced her, proposing intimacy. She refused for the first time. After much pleading, she reluctantly pulled down her pants…

She showed no passion; her eyes, like pools of autumn water, remained fixed on the ceiling. This was our last time having sex.

Afterwards, I brought up the topic of marriage again. I said, "I'm already 19, past the legal marriage age, and no one has the right to interfere." To be honest, I wasn't without pressure about marrying him. Age and children seemed like insurmountable barriers. The condemnation from society wasn't the biggest concern; the biggest obstacle would be my parents. But I believed it was all a matter of time, and everything would pass with time.

I firmly believed she would be good to my parents, and that kind parents wouldn't force me to abandon the person I loved. I also believed that after getting to know her, my parents would like her too. My strongest confidence was that since I wouldn't be able to return to this place after graduating from university, I would let her come with me wherever I went.

These were undoubtedly sincere thoughts, but in retrospect, they seem naive. When I told her all this, she calmly said, "Not now. Let's talk about it after you graduate." On the day I left home, the primary and secondary schools held stilt-walking events. The village station was packed with people, and drums and gongs filled the air. Surrounded by relatives and teachers, I arrived at the village station. My family knew she was good to me, but no one saw her. My eyes searched the crowd, but she was nowhere to be found.

Amidst the blessings of the crowd, I boarded the train heading south. As the train sped past the crossing east of the town, a woman stood in the lush green vegetable field… To me, she was more than just a lover; she gave me a mother's love. Whenever I wrote a letter, I would send hers along with my parents', and my parents always replied promptly. But she remained unreachable. Finally, winter vacation arrived, and when I rushed to her door, I found it locked. I couldn't ask the neighbors; I knew they didn't get along. Just as I turned to leave in disappointment, my neighbor, Auntie, came over:

"Looking for Shuxian? She moved away." "Where did she move to?" "It seems to be in the south." I stared blankly at my neighbor. The aunt sighed and said, "Ah! Actually, she was a good person!" The next day, I went to the county's No. 1 Middle School again to try to find my younger brother, but people told me, "He transferred schools." As soon as I left the school gate, I said fiercely, "So thorough, you bastard!" Anger, disappointment, and longing were all intertwined. On the train back home from the county town, I gazed at the place where we had worked and lived, unable to dispel my depression. Tears streamed down my cheeks, attracting many questioning glances... If she had only given me a mother's affection, perhaps I wouldn't miss her so much, because her sacrifices could not compare to a mother's; if she had only been a lover, I wouldn't miss her so much either, for there are lovers everywhere. The reason she haunted my dreams was that she was both a mother and a lover. She once braved the rain to bring me an umbrella to school, and she once waded across the river to get me medicine. When our tractor trip to pay respects at a martyrs' cemetery, several miles away, tragically overturned, she trekked to the scene. Seeing me and my classmates gesturing wildly, she finally stopped crying and smiled.

Undeniably, we had a sexual relationship. But are all sexual relationships shameful? Afterwards, she would hold my legs between hers, letting my head rest on her arm, like cradling a baby, until I fell asleep, then quietly return to her room… All of that is in the past.

I searched frantically for her, and still do today…

(This topic was promoted by Extinction Master on 2014-12-30 17:05)

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