"The Three of Us—A Tribute to Love That Transcends Family Ties" (Reprinted)

In middle age, I've returned to tranquility, calming my mind amidst the anxieties, to write about the love and family ties of the three of us. Before sealing it away, I only wish to preserve the past, to commemorate the family bonds, love, desires, indulgences, repentance, reconciliation, and memories of the past.

Dad, Mom, and I—the three of us. We endured hardship together, comforting each other in suffering, huddling together for warmth in the face of fate. When good times arrived, it was no longer just the three of us. The love of that time became a memory. I use words to record those past experiences, those moments of family bliss amidst the bitterness.

【I. The Three of Us—Our Childhood Bed】

From as far back as I can remember, the three of us slept in one big quilt.
Our hometown is Hebei, not in Northeast China, but winters were still unbearably cold; we still used heated brick beds. I remember the door always had cracks, constantly letting in cold drafts; the only place in the house that wasn't cold was the quilt. Rural life was isolated and monotonous; there was almost no entertainment at night, and we didn't get a radio until I started elementary school.

In that isolated life, sex became the only pleasure. I didn't understand then, I just knew my parents often played naked together. They would often tickle each other, massage each other's "smile points," and write words on each other's bodies for the other to guess. I was too young to participate in their silly activities and always went to bed very early.
Because of the big quilt, cold air often blew in when they played, waking me up frequently. There was no light, but I knew they were still playing, so I asked, "What are you playing?
" "We're playing a word guessing game, baby, go to sleep early."
Actually, I couldn't sleep because it was too cold, so I hugged them.
"Why is Daddy on top of Mommy?"
"The kang (heated brick bed) is too hot! I'm scared. I like to sleep on Mommy, using her as a cushion."
Actually, the kang was already cold; I think Daddy just wanted to be on Mommy. I wanted to too, so I moved closer to them, and the three of us hugged each other. The three of us played tickling like that.

This scene lasted almost the entire winter; it happened again when it got warmer, but I was asleep and didn't know. Actually, nothing particularly special happened during those days. At least not the kind of scenes netizens expect. The three of us would just lie there naked, and all we did, looking back, was hug and play.
My parents definitely wanted to have sex, but I usually wasn't that interested and would fall asleep quickly. The only thing I remember is that my dad's penis was huge, and my mom had a towel under her butt. When they got excited, they would hold me tight. When they were happy, I was happy too. They would often kiss for a long time, intertwined, for a very long time. Occasionally, I would wake up early and see them still entwined.

That was it, really nothing. I was too young to pay much attention to their lower bodies; there was no light, so I didn't care what they were doing; kissing for so long just seemed boring to me. The things they talked about while they were entwined were even more boring. All I could do was hold my mom's hand and try to fall asleep as early as possible.

When they were having sex, if I was awake, they would lower the intensity but not stop, and they liked to kiss me at the same time. The three of us would be entwined head to head, and they would be very excited, and I would be especially happy too. The three of us, face to face, nose to nose, formed a triangle—Dad called it "the three of us," which was also our secret code. After Dad fell ill, this gesture became his deepest solace. Whenever he was in unbearable pain, we would comfort him like this, "triangle head to head." Of course, that's a story for later.

After they finished, they liked to hold me in the middle. Being in the middle wasn't actually comfortable; their breath would always blow on me. So I would often scramble down, burrow under the covers, and cover my head. It was so warm there, and there was a scent of love (I didn't understand it then, it just smelled a little fishy, but incredibly pleasant). Dad always liked to put his penis on my buttocks. I found it in the way, so I would tuck it under my buttocks, but sometimes it would get hard and pop out on its own.

Those days were truly pure happiness! A happiness I miss dearly! Now that the three of us are gone, I often think about those days, but I can never go back. Dad on the right, Mom on the left, and me squeezed in the middle; it was so cold outside in winter, but I was so comfortable inside.

As I grew a little older, my parents considered having me sleep in separate beds. But the countryside was poor, and building a house was a huge undertaking. The cracks in the walls were all patched up with straw; there was no money to build a new house. And so, I started elementary school.
After starting elementary school, the three of us still slept naked together. But my parents no longer made love in front of me. They still slept cuddling together, with me beside them. We still shared one big quilt.
Around third grade, a small bed was set up next to the kang (heated brick bed), and I was squeezed into it, finally having my own quilt. I really wanted to go back to the big bed, but I was always chased away. Only in winter, when it was too cold, could I go back to the big bed and sleep between them.

By then, I could vaguely understand what they were saying. The nights were long, and they could talk for a long time, heads touching, faces close, often repeating the same phrase many times. They also often composed love poems, which were basically just rhyming couplets, though they might only compose two or three lines all night, but they were still the most beautiful love stories in the countryside.
When I grew up, I read the letters my father wrote. Those love poems were simple, but truly beautiful. Many were about their feelings after sex, but they also profoundly recorded my parents' love. There were also memories of me, of the three of us rolling around naked in bed, playing.
He often mentioned "the three of us," which were the happiest moments in my father's heart. And also the happiest moments for my mother and me.

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"The Three of Us—A Tribute to Love That Transcends Family Ties" (Reprinted)

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