My wife Fang

On Monday noon, I sent my wife a WeChat message to tell her I would be home that evening. Fang replied with a voice message, asking what time I would be home and whether I wanted to eat at home or out. I told her I wanted to eat at home, as I was a little tired and didn't want to go out. My wife replied with a playful smiley face, telling me she had prepared dinner and was waiting for me. Everything seemed as if nothing had happened; my wife was still the wife I loved, still preparing dinner and waiting for me to come home. It was as if everything that had happened was just my imagination, but I knew that what had happened had happened, and it wasn't an illusion.

In the evening, dragging my tired body and mind, I returned to my home on the 16th floor of the ** residential complex in the north of the city.

The warm orange light in the living room still made me feel warm; the home was still the same as before, but I could never go back to the way I felt.

Hearing me open the door, my wife Fang quickly came out of the kitchen. My wife, wearing a pajamas under her little brown bear apron, looked a little tired. She smiled at me, rushed over, and opened her arms to hug me. I instinctively reached out and hugged Fang tightly. But thinking of those photos and videos of my wife, and of how that devil had taken advantage of her, I subconsciously pushed her gently away from my arms. Fang seemed to sense my movement, slowly releasing her arms from my neck and giving me a look that was hard to decipher.

"What's wrong? Are you unhappy to see me?" Fang's eyes held a hint of resentment.

I immediately realized my actions were somewhat abnormal.

"I've been driving all afternoon, I'm a little tired. What should I make for you?" I changed the subject.

"Your favorite braised ribbonfish, and braised prawns, and sweet and sour pork ribs, and…" Fang said excitedly. "Knowing you were coming back, I took a short break and went to the market. The prawns were alive; I haven't seen such big ones in ages. You'll definitely like them. You've worked so hard, and it's so rare for you to come back, so I have to make you feel better. Oh dear, change your shoes and clothes first. I'll go check the pot; the ribs are still in there, don't let them burn."

Watching Fang turn and rush into the kitchen, I put on my slippers and changed into the loungewear hanging on the coat rack by the door. Although my wife tried her best to act like before, and in fact, she really was the same as before, I felt that Fang was deliberately hiding something. On the way back, I thought for a long time about whether to confront my wife. I love her, and I can feel her love. But now we both have secrets that don't belong between us. Can we go back to the way things were? Just before entering the door, I was still fantasizing about revealing all the truth, saying what I wanted to say, and then either facing everything that had happened with Fang, or getting a divorce and giving each other space to live freely.

But the moment I saw my wife, all these thoughts vanished. I was afraid of losing my wife. I was afraid that telling the truth would hurt us both. I was afraid of the irreparable rift that would result from revealing the truth. I was afraid that when I returned home, my wife's familiar figure wouldn't be there. At least for now, Fang was still mine, and I was still my wife's.

"What are you thinking about? Come and eat," my wife placed a plate of sweet and sour pork ribs on the table.

"I'll wash my hands and be right there." I turned around, knowing there was a hint of hesitation and confusion in my eyes.

As I walked out of the bathroom, Fang rushed into my arms again. I felt her soft body pressed tightly against my chest, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck, as if letting go would mean losing me.

"I missed you." I could clearly sense my wife's emotions. Although she didn't look up at me, I could feel the tenderness in her eyes.

"I missed you too," I hugged my wife's slender waist and buried my head in her fragrant hair.

Although I saw the faint red marks on my wife's upper arm, I didn't want to say anything. I just held her tightly, and we embraced for a long, long time.

I didn't want to reveal anything; I was afraid my fears would become reality. Since we loved each other so deeply, since we still had each other, what did all that nonsense matter?

At dinner, Fang and I drank some red wine together. When a slight buzz started to hit me, I lifted my wife up and carried her to the bedroom. We

lay together on our own bed—yes, our own bed, my wife's bed. Home is our haven, a place of peace and tranquility, a place to rest and recuperate, no matter what storms rage outside.

I didn't turn on the lights, not even the bedside lamp. I was afraid of seeing the marks on Fang's body and causing unnecessary embarrassment, breaking the peaceful atmosphere. I didn't want to hear the lies Fang might have already prepared.

As I pressed my wife down beneath me, my hands gently caressing her firm breasts, and then pressed my heavy lips against hers, she let out a soft moan. I parted her lips with my tongue, her teeth slightly parted, and as my tongue penetrated deeper, her tongue emerged to meet my teasing. I sucked on the tips of her lips, then rolled over, pinning her beneath me and spreading her trembling legs, feeling the excitement of entering my secret garden.

"Wear... a condom...!" Fang clearly sensed my intention, and as she spoke, she took an Okamoto condom from the bedside table drawer and placed it in my hand.

For so many years, because we didn't want to be burdened by children too early, and because our careers were both on the rise, we had always been careful about using protection.

"I don't want to today," I said, not stopping my caresses of her breasts, wanting to continue thrusting.

"No, it's her fertile period today, you have to wear one." Fang began to struggle, clamping her legs together to stop me from going any further.

"Let's have a child," I said, ignoring the thin film my wife offered.

"We've already agreed, we'll wait a while. Honey, listen to me, put it on, I'm yours." Though unwilling, Fang insisted, and that barrier was placed on me.

When I rubbed my genitals against my wife's warm private parts again, Fang no longer resisted, but instead guided me into her lower body with her slender fingers.

"Honey,... ah..." As my rhythm quickened, Fang let out moans.

I rode her, like a warrior returning to battle after a long absence, standing amidst a thousand troops.

"Ah... honey,... * strong... ah... I love you..." This was the true expression of love, this was my wife.

As I thrust with all my might, as if possessed, images of the devil playing with my wife flashed through my mind frame by frame. Feeling my real wife beneath me, those images were like illusions, so unreal, yet so real.

I ejaculated, separated by a thin layer, like the barrier that already existed between us—a thin layer, yet cruelly severing our intimacy.

I knew it was still early, the night was still long, but I still fell into a deep sleep, a peaceful sleep, because my beloved wife was beside me.

[The End]

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My wife Fang

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