Inspired by "bad kids," they slowly shed their outer garments.

Almost all parents categorize their children's friends into two groups: "good kids" and "bad kids," and my parents were no exception.
From a young age, they constantly told me to play with "good kids" and stay away from "bad kids." They relentlessly instilled in me the concepts of "good kids" and "bad kids." As a child, I tried to distinguish them using their methods, but their approach only made me more confused. I've seen boys who are exceptionally well-behaved and sensible around their parents and elders deflate bicycle tires one by one on the roadside; I've also seen boys who usually swear desperately protect a puppy being bullied by several older children. I couldn't use my parents' rules to distinguish who was a "good kid" and who was a "bad kid." My parents taught me that "good kids" should be frank, sincere, and consistent in word and deed, yet they also told me to be patient and good at disguising my emotions. They taught me not to lie, yet they would tell so-called "white lies" to other uncles and aunts in front of me, while everyone has desires, something everyone must hypocritically hide. But none of that matters. I've long been accustomed to ignoring those rigid rules and relying solely on my parents' "conclusions" to distinguish between "good kids" and "bad kids," and I've found that this actually makes it easier to gain their approval. This simple theory has also made me a perfectly "good kid" in the eyes of my parents and even all the elders around me. Only I know that the "good kid" in their eyes is not me at all. At least I haven't achieved "speaking one's mind and doing one's deeds." For the sake of that "good kid" title in the elders' mouths, I've said too many things that were "insincere" and done too many "hypocritical" things.
The classification method of "good kid" and "bad kid" seems too crude, but I don't know when it started, this crudeness made me feel a kind of beauty in the simplicity of the greatest truths. As I grew up, I found that I could easily and habitually display the advantages of "good kids," but I could also clearly see that I also possessed the characteristics of "bad kids." I believe the difference between "good kids" and "bad kids" lies in the ability of "good kids" to effectively suppress their "bad" traits, preventing them from manifesting. I am one such "good kid" with an exceptional ability to suppress these traits.
I don't agree with my parents' disdain and contempt for the "bad kid" aspect. As a child, I watched many cartoons where the protagonist was accompanied by both a little angel and a little devil, who would advise the protagonist on different actions or methods of making choices. At the time, I thought: if I had two such "little people" inside me, the "good kid" should apologize to the "bad kid." This is similar to my own feeling that I should apologize to the so-called "bad kids" around me. I never had the chance to play happily with them; instead, they endured too much pressure from "other people's children" behind my back. I feel indebted to the "bad kids," although I can use my parents' constant presence as an excuse, but an excuse is just an excuse. I know that one day I will have to repay this debt to these "bad kids" in some form.
After I started university, my parents seemed to suddenly change their educational approach. They began to pay more attention to my etiquette, appearance, and the psychology of family communication. They even hired a chef to come to our house during holidays to teach me cooking skills. It seemed they wanted to mold me into a complete virtuous wife and loving mother. At the time, I really resisted. I was a girl who had tried so hard to be independent since I was a child, yet my parents' ultimate expectation for me was to marry into a good family. I thought my parents made me learn so many sports and skills that so-called "upper-class" people liked so that I could make it in upper-class society on my own in the future. I didn't expect that they just wanted me to marry into "upper-class society."
But what could I do? I had been used to obeying their arrangements since I was a child. During my first summer vacation, my parents, who had always strictly forbidden me from dating boys, even arranged a "boyfriend" for me. Both sets of parents ceremoniously arranged for us to "go on a blind date" and date for a few days under their supervision, and our relationship was actually settled. Suddenly, I went from a cold and aloof woman who was unapproachable to a little girl who needed to learn to lean on someone.
The boyfriend who suddenly appeared in my life was named JP. He came from a wealthy family; he was considered a second-generation rich kid. His father was a good friend of my father's. Initially, I didn't have much of an impression of JP. I was in a particularly bad mood those few days because JP and I were actually classmates in the same school and grade. I immediately remembered how my father had insisted I apply to this school when I was choosing my university. I thought my father was genuinely thinking about my future, but the appearance of this "boyfriend" made me feel utterly hopeless. I felt like I had been sold. Fortunately, my parents still stuck to their principles, insisting that we could date, but not do anything shameful before marriage. My mother also continued her habit of calling my dorm every night to check up on me, which made me feel a little more at ease. At least they didn't expect me to make any sacrifices to solidify or maintain this relationship; they still treated me like a person.
Overall, JP was actually a very good person. He was well-mannered, polite, and like me, a "good child" in the eyes of his elders. However, I never developed any special feelings for him. I remember the first time he visited my family, he and my parents expressed their utter disdain for societal norms like "trial marriage" and "premarital sex." He also promised to remain chaste and not to have any inappropriate behavior towards me before marriage. At the time, I could only stand there, blushing and speechless, listening to their solemn vows and boastful talk about my private matters. My biggest resentment was the feeling that from then on, someone else could control my life. I thought of the "virtues of womanhood" my mother had taught me, and even recited them in my head out of sheer boredom.
Back in my second year of university, our relationship was officially announced. JP's father even arranged for him to transfer to another department, making him my classmate. Although this wasn't difficult to do and wasn't exactly a case of blatant manipulation, it still made me feel like my future was already clearly planned out. What I couldn't stand the most was that JP would always pick me up from the classroom, dormitory, and even club activity venues at the beginning. I can still remember how he would deliberately call my name loudly and affectionately, then hold my hand and walk out proudly in front of our classmates. The first thing that came to my mind was, "Sovereignty and territory are sacred and inviolable."
To be honest, JP was always very good to me. No matter what I was doing, he would be there for me, taking good care of me. But every time we walked around campus together, I felt like he was showing off. Maybe, like "sovereignty and territorial integrity," our relationship needed him to constantly declare it to the outside world. Indeed, I noticed that several boys who had pursued me in freshman year seemed to avoid me, and no boys came up to me anymore. JP had shielded me from a lot of trouble.
As I said, a "good kid" is simply someone who suppresses their "bad kid" side. JP, this "good kid," was far inferior to me in how to suppress his "bad" side. During sophomore year, JP began to subtly test me. I knew he wanted to take our relationship further, and there were even a few times when he practically hinted that I should stay out all night with him. I rejected him, citing my parents' need to check up on me. Later, he started to touch me inappropriately, intentionally or unintentionally. I had no choice but to confront him with the same things he had said to my parents, and he eventually had to restrain himself. At that moment, I thought to myself that JP was also a hypocrite, just like me.
I know JP is genuinely interested in me and probably wants to spend his life with me. To be honest, I've thought about how this was bound to happen sooner or later, and sometimes, when he pursued me so much I got annoyed, I even considered going with him. But I just couldn't get past my own conscience. I don't like JP's reserved and awkward personality, and the image of him being so subservient to my parents at home makes me uncomfortable. Besides, although I've had those thoughts, honestly, it's because I also have desires, and I occasionally indulge in small pleasures, or I'm curious or looking forward to what it's like to be intimate with someone. But these are just occasional flutters of that "bad boy" side of me. Based on my parents' years of upbringing, I feel it's impossible for me to do anything "shameful" with any man before marriage, let alone a "hypocrite" like JP. I'm confident I'll never let my "bad boy" side show like JP. However, my confidence is being gradually eroded by another "bad boy."
He was a junior I met in a club activity. I was a junior then, and he had just entered the university. We always addressed each other as senior and junior. To me, he was just an immature kid. He wasn't tall or handsome; he was the kind of guy whose appearance didn't impress me at first glance, and I'd forget about him after a while. What impressed me was his outgoing personality, and you could say he was a very witty and humorous guy. However, I was immune to "witty and humorous" at the time, especially his style of talking nonsense and joking with very low standards. He was exactly the kind of "bad kid" my parents talked about, and I couldn't talk to him when my parents were around. But at school, I couldn't help but observe him often, drawn to him. Later, after we got to know each other better, I realized that I had discovered some things about him that I really admired. The first was his enthusiasm. He seemed to make friends without considering what kind of person they were, unlike me, who always seemed cold and aloof, always needing to assess people before getting to know them. The second thing is his undisguised "bad boy" quality. He always gives me the feeling that he says what he wants and does what he wants, completely unconcerned about what others might think. Thirdly, I noticed that even his classmates who try so hard to pretend to be "good kids" seem to like his carefree "bad boy" attitude. I was curious about him and wanted to understand him. He seemed to make me feel that there was still something changeable in my life. Perhaps I should be grateful to have met such a young man in my life.
Once, after a club activity, I couldn't help but call out to him. He sat quietly until everyone else had left before coming over and sitting opposite me. He joked that I was always cold, and that he was flattered to be chosen by such a cool and aloof beauty like me.
I asked him, "Aren't you afraid of being disliked for always being so unserious?" He said, "I can't help it, that's my true self!"
The word "true self" is really cheesy and corny, but for some reason, it touched me.
I asked him, "You should at least try to control yourself a bit." He countered, "Aren't you tired of putting on airs every day?"
His slightly impolite directness made me uncomfortable. But I already knew the answer to his question.
I hesitated for a while before softly saying, "Yes, I am tired." Then I added, "Extremely tired!"
At that moment, I really wanted to insist that I wasn't tired. How could being a "good kid," praised and liked by everyone, be tiring? But facing this boy who was so frank and sometimes unrestrained, I wanted to be sincere for once.
After a while, he said to me, "Can the real me meet the real senior?" At that moment, I suddenly felt like crying, but I held it in. That night, we talked for a long time. I did most of the talking, and he sat across from me listening so attentively. I felt like he had suddenly become a very serious and proper young man, while I seemed to have become an innocent little girl.
Back in my dorm that night, my mother called, scolding me for being so late. I made up some excuse, and then I started to regret talking so much with a junior I barely knew. I started to worry about whether he was a trustworthy person, whether he would reveal my embarrassing situation to others, and even how I would face him the next time we met. But sharing some of my innermost thoughts gave me a strange sense of relief, as if I had finally found someone in this world who understood my "true self."
When we met again later, the younger student was still the same unrestrained boy, while I still maintained my aloofness in front of my classmates. We kept a distance from each other in front of our classmates, almost like strangers. Sometimes I even wondered if our long, heart-to-heart talk had never happened, which made me feel unusually at ease.
What made me happy was that he seemed to have a tacit understanding with me, intentionally creating opportunities to be alone together every now and then. Gradually, we became a pair of close friends hidden away. At that time, we really were just talking, without any inappropriate behavior. But I had a feeling similar to "stealing," as if I was doing something shameless that I had to do behind everyone's back. You could say that for me, shedding my "good girl" facade and increasingly revealing my true self—a side no one had ever seen—to a boy was itself a kind of "stealing." That's when I realized "stealing" was thrilling, because I slowly discovered that after each deep conversation with him, I felt sexually aroused, and my underwear was always sticky. But the things I said during those conversations were carefully selected and had absolutely nothing to do with sex.
I didn't dare tell anyone, including my junior, about the thrill I got from "stealing." I had a boyfriend, the one my parents had chosen. At that time, JP represented a future I could never change. I repeatedly confirmed that I didn't have romantic feelings for my junior; he was still a little boy in my heart, just my confidant. I tried to deliberately reduce the number of conversations with him, but I found myself seemingly unable to leave this confidant; talking to him had become the most relaxing and enjoyable thing I'd ever experienced.
One day, I told JP to start studying hard for his postgraduate entrance exam and not to always be by my side. But I knew deep down I just wanted more opportunities to be alone with my junior, because JP, who always clung to me, was the biggest obstacle to our time together. At that moment, my insincere persuasion of JP made me truly feel like I was "stealing," and moreover, "stealing" in the sense of "cheating." That night, I talked with my junior for a long time. I don't remember if he was intentionally leading me astray, but I remember becoming even more unrestrained. I told him how tragically my first love ended, that it was my only relationship that wasn't really a relationship, and that JP and I had only held hands for a year and a half. I even bluntly told him, "I'm a virgin," and that I must remain a virgin until marriage. I solemnly told my junior that this wasn't a sexual innuendo and that he shouldn't overthink it. That night, back in my dorm, I called my mother and JP separately, seemingly wanting to tell them, with a guilty conscience, that I hadn't done anything wrong. In the middle of the night, I scrubbed my underwear over and over again, feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt. But after turning off the lights, I went to the bathroom alone and touched my fingers. JP's taciturn yet reliable voice and the slightly frivolous smile of my junior classmate flashed before my eyes. I don't know if this counts as a sexual fantasy, but that fingertip contact brought me extraordinary pleasure. Later, I learned that this must be called an orgasm.
I suddenly felt that I was the most contradictory person, or perhaps not even contradictory. After all, being a "good kid" is just a disguise for being a "bad kid." Even if I'm sure I'm a "bad kid," I can't just run around naked.

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Inspired by "bad kids," they slowly shed their outer garments.

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