[Tales of Pyramid Schemes] (12-14) Author: Ananda in Tears

Author: Ananda in Tears
Word Count: 10634

Chapter Twelve: Love and Separation Always End in Parting

I began to remove her panties, grabbing the thin thong and pulling it down. I was most worried that she
would reach out and grab me like she did when I took off her skirt earlier. Surprisingly, she cooperated this time, and it was easy to pull them down
to the back of her thighs. Then I pulled my own panties down to the back of my thighs as well. My penis was long and erect, hard as
iron and steel, the bright red glans glistening with oil, twitching and eager to move.
I held my sixteen-centimeter-long penis and approached her from behind at the base of her thighs. My other hand was pinned down by her and
I couldn't move. I couldn't see what was happening below, so I could only poke and prod her with my penis. Finally, I reached
that wet, soft flesh, but she tensed up her buttocks. I quickly reached out and wrapped my arms around her
waist from the front, pulling her back. She didn't resist much, obediently moving her hips closer to me. My penis smoothly pressed against
her warm, moist cleft, thrusting back and forth between her labia. I could feel the glans being wet with her love juices.

I wanted to lubricate the glans a bit more before entering, but she was already impatient, her body constantly wriggling downwards,
eager to envelop my penis. But the more she tried, the less she could find the right spot. She gave a slightly annoyed
groan and pinched my thigh, making me cry out in pain. I just couldn't get in, and
sweat poured down my forehead in frustration. I lifted her thigh, raising her upper leg to
spread She reached over and held onto my erection, pressing it against the bottom of her opening. I slowly thrust my hips, and thankfully
, the lubrication from her vaginal fluids allowed my penis to slide smoothly and powerfully into her body, penetrating all the way in
, reaching the deepest part of her secret garden. I could clearly feel the
indescribable . She opened her mouth and let out a long "ah." I had finally obtained
this strange girl's body—what an incredibly pleasant encounter!

I lingered inside for a while, feeling the warm, moist sensation within her vagina. Rongrong turned her head and whispered
, "Yes!" I gently rocked inside her a couple of times, then slowly withdrew most of my penis before thrusting in deeply again,
slowly pumping in and out, making soft, gurgling sounds. She moaned softly, wriggling around.
More than ten minutes passed, and I still hadn't felt any urge to ejaculate. I didn't like this side-lying position; it didn't
provide complete visual stimulation.

"Shall we change positions?" I whispered breathlessly in her ear.

She seemed startled for a moment, "Hmm?!" she said, the sound coming entirely from her throat.

I gently pulled out my penis, pulled down my underwear, and tossed it aside. My penis was still trembling,
covered in milky white stains, as if it had been rinsed with milk. Rongrong rolled over and sat up, pulling down her underwear as well
. She glanced up and saw me staring at her, quickly lowering her head and bringing her legs together.

"How do I do it?" she murmured, seemingly mustering all her courage.

"Lie down, stick your butt out." I got up and reached out to move her body. She obediently lay down, bending over and
sticking her butt out. It seemed she knew what to do.

I stretched out my long, thick penis, crawled on my knees behind her buttocks, and finally aimed diagonally upwards at the cleft
between . I glanced down; there it was, plump and round like a full flower blooming in the summer sun, with clean,
pink folds of flesh, so tender, trembling slightly as it opened and closed, glistening with a wet, lascivious sheen
—the spring water there had flowed out again. Her body was snow-white, curvaceous, with full, pert buttocks, a slender
waist, and plump mounds of flesh hanging down inside her top; she was simply a naturally petite and exquisite
beauty.

"Hurry up, stop looking!" she said resentfully. Because I hadn't made a move yet, she looked down and saw me
still staring at her flower garden. Rongrong couldn't help but ask me; at this moment, she was like a she-wolf in heat.

It was rare for her to be so proactive! Without saying a word, I took half a step forward, reached out and grasped her buttocks, aimed at
her vulva , and thrust all the way in.

"Ouch!" she let out a short cry. I thrust my hips in and out, sometimes deeply, sometimes shallowly. She tilted her
head back tossing her hair, and began to moan incoherently with pleasure. The folds of flesh inside her enveloped
me, licking and sucking at my invading shaft.

"Mmm...it's so itchy...so itchy..." she couldn't help but moan unrestrainedly, her limp
body arching as she endured my thrusts. The "slap" and "slap" sounds, mixed with her moans, echoed in the room. My
hands weren't idle either, kneading her firm, white, round buttocks, moving along her ribs to
inside her shirt, slipping under the straps to fondle her full breasts, teasing her nipples, attacking from both ends. We
continued thrusting like this for more than ten minutes. Just as I was supporting her buttocks, preparing to bring her to the
peak , her phone rang. Startled, I stopped moving. She reached for the phone next to the pillow
and answered it. It sounded like her aunt was calling, asking where she was and offering to pick her up. She said she was waiting at
the train station .

"My aunt's coming to pick me up in twenty minutes!" She hung up, turned to me, her
face flushed, her forehead covered in fine beads of sweat.

"We need to hurry!" I said.

"Okay!" She turned her head forward, braced herself on the bed, and slightly parted her legs,
ready for the final thrust. Little did she know, twenty minutes was enough; I was already planning to start thrusting too.

The battle horn had sounded. I gripped her waist tightly and began to thrust deeply. Even in a thrust, you
can't just blindly rush in. I knew this well. Experience had taught me that thrusting should follow a
gradual increase in speed, just increasing the pace by one level. Make sure to go all the way in each time, make sure to withdraw each time,
repeating from slow to fast. Each thrust felt like she was in great pain, gritting her teeth and letting out
a muffled "Ugh!"

"Do you like it? Hmm?" I asked her in a deep voice as I thrust in and out. "I...like..." she murmured,
panting softly. "Ah...ah...don't stop," her love juices flowed like overflowing spring water,
wave after wave, seemingly endless. My forehead began to steam
. I don't know how much time passed, nor did I care about the nine shallow thrusts followed by one deep one, or the speed at which I went. The air around us
became hazy and indistinct, as if we were still on a train, "puffing and puffing" forward.
The momentum was unstoppable.

"...Hurry up, hurry up, it's coming!" Rongrong cried out incessantly, her whole body
trembling and convulsing as if possessed, her waist taut like a fully drawn bow, the inner walls of her body wrapping around her from
all sides , tighter and tighter. I quickly roused myself and sped up, thrusting in and out
relentlessly, the sounds of "crackling" and "slapping" filling the air, the bed creaking and groaning beneath me.

"Oh God, I'm dying, I'm dying..." she screamed, revealing this to me, wildly
tossing her hair, burying her head in the pillow, her hands gripping the sheets tightly, making them crumple.
Her legs suddenly sprang open from her chest, her whole body tensed, stiffening, her head tilting back as she groaned in anticipation of the even more
intense impact. The moment of pleasure finally arrived—a surge of heat suddenly gushed down her head; she
had reached the peak of her orgasm. Stimulated by this surge of heat, I felt a tingling sensation in my lower back,
traveling up my spine to my brain. My testicles clenched tightly against the base of my penis, which
throbbed rhythmically. I could no longer control the train's forward momentum, letting out a muffled growl, preparing
to thrust times.

"Take it out, shoot it outside!" Rongrong screamed. I was truly out of my mind, quickly pulling
back . The volcano erupted instantly, hot semen gushing out with a "splattering" sound, thick white droplets
hitting her pert buttocks and white thighs. Rongrong's body slumped down like a puddle of mud.
I watched as my trembling penis panted heavily, refusing to stop.

Just then, the phone rang again. We were both startled almost simultaneously, reaching for our phones
—it was Rongrong's phone ringing. Could her aunt have arrived so soon?! She rolled out of bed,
still on the phone, heading towards the safe. I knew she was looking for tissues. I grabbed
a towel from the pillow and handed it to her. She wiped herself down there while replying,

"My aunt's here, I have to go." She hung up, climbed back into bed, grabbed her scattered underwear and skirt,
and started to put them on.

"Will we see each other again?" I reached for my glasses and lighter on the bedside table, feeling a pang of disappointment
. We hadn't even had time for any tenderness.

"Yes, remember to call me." She was still panting, hurriedly putting on her underwear and skirt, her hands
scratching her messy short hair.

"Let me take you downstairs!" I saw her pick up the phone and head towards the safe, quickly putting on my clothes and pants.

"No, I'm afraid my aunt will see, it wouldn't be good." She turned back halfway and said.

"It's okay, I'll just take you downstairs and come right back." I said in a muffled voice, pulling my t-shirt over my head.

"Okay!" she said. I climbed out of bed, put on some clothes, dragged my suitcase, and we walked out of the room. The hallway lights
were already on.

When we got downstairs, the landlady smiled and said, "Aren't you staying?"

"No, I'm seeing her off, I'm staying," I said.

The landlady's face stiffened instantly, and she gave us an awkward smile. The lights outside were bright; it
had gotten dark without us noticing.

"Leaving already?" I handed the briefcase to Rongrong and murmured.

She lowered her head and didn't speak. I didn't know what to say either, so I lifted her forehead and looked at her intently. She closed her
eyes tilted her head back. I kissed her fiercely, holding her lips tightly, unwilling to let go… Watching Rongrong drag
her briefcase and "gurgle" away towards the train station, I felt inexplicably sad. I saw a
middle-aged couple take the briefcase from her before entering the restaurant.

"What's wrong?" the landlady asked anxiously, apparently thinking we had just had a big argument.

"Nothing, she was going to her aunt's house," I said, my stomach growling. "A
fried rice with egg, please! Extra egg."

The landlady breathed a sigh of relief and turned to make the fried rice. I checked my phone; it was already past eight.
No wonder I was so hungry. After eating, I went upstairs and lay down on the bed. Turning my head to look at the messy bed, I felt
empty . I took off my clothes, turned off the light, and crawled under the covers. My mind was a mess,
thinking about Xin'er one moment and Rongrong the next, wondering when Ma Biao would arrive tomorrow… Lost in these random thoughts , I drifted off to sleep
. Chapter Thirteen: Red River Golden Lotus

The next morning, when I woke up, there were two missed calls and an unread text message on my phone. I
was startled : Had I overslept? I quickly opened it. The text message was from Rongrong last night, saying she had
arrived at her aunt's house and told me to take care and come visit me when I had time. Both missed calls were from last night, one from
Rongrong and one from Xin'er. I was sleeping so soundly that I didn't hear them. I was puzzled. It was already ten
o'clock , why hadn't Ma Biao called yet? That's so inconsiderate! Even if I was sleeping, he should have
called by now!

I called Ma Biao from inside the bed. He said he was already on his way and was about to call me
, and told me to wait for him at the train station. I quickly got up, dressed, and went to wash up, which comforted me a little—
it seemed Ma Biao still remembered! I even felt an undisguised joy,
humming softly as I washed up, as if the fatigue of the journey had vanished. Today is Tuesday, the weather is
sunny , and bright sunlight is already streaming in through the glass windows at one end of the hotel corridor,
casting a warm glow on the floor. Breathing in the fresh, clean morning air, I thought: Today is a brand new
beginning. Houma—this will be the place where I change my destiny. I will
settle down and raise the sails of my dreams.

Remembering Ma Biao's words on the phone, "You can choose any hamburger or foreign girl you want," I couldn't help but feel a surge of
desire —wearing a clean, sharp, high-end suit every day, moving in and out of spacious, brightly lit office buildings,
swaying my body in the glittering bars or nightclubs as dusk falls, lecherously stroking
the breasts and thighs of
alluring blonde Caucasians, licking their clean, full vulvas
, sparsely covered with golden pubic hair, their bright red labia resembling daffodil petals, exuding a captivating
fragrance—everything is exactly like in European and American AVs, and all of this will become a living
reality in Houma.

As I walked out of the hotel carrying my luggage, the landlady kept saying "Welcome!" and
jokingly reminded me to remember the "matchmaker's gift" I had promised. I said I definitely would.

At the agreed-upon location, I waited for more than ten minutes on the flower bed in front of the train station. Ma Biao stepped out of
the yellow —he was still as thin and tall as ever, perhaps even thinner,
standing at 1.85 meters. I was only as tall as his ear. But fate is fair; I had more solid muscles
on me , unlike his bony frame, and I was much more handsome than his long, horse-like face
. His cheekbones were high and protruding, his complexion was sallow, and his dark eye sockets were deeply
sunken behind his glasses, below which was a ridiculous nose—a nose that twitched incessantly with each breath. It seemed his
rhinitis hadn't improved; the tip of his nose was red and swollen from being rubbed with his fingers. His nose resembled
that of a chronically drunk, senile old man, or the runny nose of a dirty child in winter—and
now, Ma Biao was pulling a large wad of crumpled tissues from his pocket to wipe
the snot . Ah, my good buddy, I wonder how much he's suffered from rhinitis over the years! The money he's spent on tissues
must be considerable!

He came alone, which disappointed me. I'd imagined him with Lao Li, driving Lao Li's beautiful
Audi, with two glamorous women in the car—their lovers. What
disappointed was that he didn't look like a typical white-collar worker at all. He wore a slightly faded military green
trench coat, thin and hunched over; a strong wind might have blown him to the ground.
He wasn't the haughty, imposing figure I'd imagined. Although I was somewhat surprised, I quickly realized:
perhaps it was his day off, or perhaps he was being so casual to make his old friend feel more comfortable.
He's always been a rather casual and unkempt person, a stark contrast to his highly talented and meticulous mind
, making him seem somewhat out of place.

As soon as I saw him, I went straight to him, leaving my luggage alone on the flower bed. I was so excited—
four years, a full four years since we'd last met! I never imagined we'd reunite in a foreign land. Ma Biao was also very welcoming,
shaking my hand and looking me up and down, asking about my well-being. At that moment, I truly understood that "meeting an old friend in a foreign land"
is indeed one of life's greatest joys. We were chatting away, and the driver, getting impatient,
honked his horn impatiently. Ma Biao, embarrassed, slapped his forehead and quickly turned around to pay the fare. The driver,
grumbling drove off from the train station. Ma Biao muttered something as he put change into his wallet. I glanced at
the wad of bright red bills inside—the wallet's opening was angled towards me. Oh, he was showing off.
If I worked hard, I could have this much money too, maybe even more. I could almost picture a golden, shiny
hamburger filled with fresh, green butter, and my voluptuous, alluring foreign girlfriend.

I went back to get my luggage, and as I was about to lift that heavy burden, Ma Biao
rushed over, grabbed it from my hand, said "I'll take it," and
slung . This scene was so familiar, reminding me of the days we spent together. He always took care of us,
always eager to carry the heavy loads himself. He's now an employee of a respectable company, and
he doesn't care all. For a moment, I was moved. I saw that
young, impetuous Ma again, with his clean smile. I walked beside him as we exited the train station. He was so thin; the weight of his luggage made his long
back even more hunched, and he walked with a limp.

Seeing how hard he was struggling, I felt a little embarrassed and said, "Let me do it!"

"It's okay, you've come all this way, you must be tired. I can manage!" Ma Biao straightened his back, trying to prove he
really could. "Let's find a place to eat first. What do you like to eat?" he asked, tilting his head, his
neck bent from the weight of his luggage.

"Anything is fine, you know what I like? It has to have chili peppers." I said,
emphasizing the chili peppers.

"Okay, there's a Wuhan restaurant right at the corner, let's eat there!" he said, leading me
across the zebra crossing. I didn't know if people in Wuhan ate spicy food; I thought he would say "Sichuan restaurant"
or "Chongqing hotpot."

Upon arriving at the restaurant, I saw this ordinary street-side shop in Wuhan. The owner
was very welcoming, seemingly quite familiar with Ma Biao, suggesting he was a regular customer, which made me a little
disappointed.

"Please come in, gentlemen!" the owner said. Ma Biao ignored him and went straight upstairs,
which seemed strange: why go to the second floor when there were plenty of empty seats on the first floor?

A young woman stood at the entrance to greet us, struggling to take the luggage from Ma Biao's shoulder, and
greeted me with a bright smile, revealing her neat, white teeth and pink gums.

Once inside the room, I understood; it was very quiet, like a private room. The noise of traffic
and the chatter of the other guests was blocked by a light green, semi-transparent plastic curtain. As Ma Biao
helped the girl carry her luggage into the inner room, he complained to her, "This guy, it's like he's moving house!"
The girl warmly invited me to sit down at the round table in the center of the room, while Ma Biao hurriedly went downstairs to order food—
leaving only the girl and me in the room. Ma Biao was really careless, not even introducing himself, making the room quite
awkward .

"My name is Peng Yu, what's yours?" I cautiously struck up a conversation.

"I know, I heard it from Brother Biao, my name is Jinlian." She still had her unchanging smiling face,
looking at me with surprise as I opened my mouth wide without speaking. She giggled and said, "Not Pan Jinlian! My surname is Jin, my
given name is Lian, you can just call me Xiaolian." I laughed too. It was as if she could read my mind, knowing what I was thinking.
Compared to calling her "Xiaolian," I preferred to call her "Jinlian." I had read "Jin Ping Mei," and Pan Jinlian wasn't
a bad person, just a woman seduced by a devil. I didn't dislike Pan Jinlian's promiscuity; I felt more
tolerance .

"Where are you from?" I asked, noticing her accent sounded a bit like her hometown.

"I'm from Yunnan, do you know Honghe?" She reached out and gathered her long, flowing hair behind her
head , tying it up and shaking it a few times, her small breasts swaying back and forth.

"Oh, no wonder. I know Honghe. There's a cigarette brand called Honghe. I'm from Guizhou..." I quickly
shifted my gaze from her chest.

"—From Guizhou, the same place as Brother Biao. He told me too," Jinlian
said calmly, picking up where I left off. This girl knew me inside and out. What was her relationship with Ma Biao? Was she Brother Biao's
girlfriend? She'd never mentioned it on the phone.

I was speechless for a moment, pondering the girl's relationship with Ma Biao while observing her. She
looked very young, probably in her early twenties, of medium height. I estimated her height when she came upstairs
; she was a little over 1.6 meters. Because of the high heels she was wearing, she looked slender. Her
wheat-colored skin still retained the fragrance of the Yunnan plateau sun, completely different from the fair
skin , possessing a unique charm, reminiscent of the pale ochre color of wheat in a barn after the autumn harvest. She had a rather
charming oval face with a slightly pointed chin, radiating youthful vitality. Her
large, captivating black eyes were striking, unlike those of someone wearing colored contact lenses; they were dark and shimmering with a watery sheen.

She sat opposite me, unable to find anything to break the silence, a
half-smile , her thick lips tightly pressed together—the fortune teller says women with thick lips are passionate
and sexually active. She stared at me with an unusually intense and strong gaze. Perhaps she wasn't looking at me, but
rather at something behind me.

Her attire was extremely ordinary, nothing like that of a white-collar woman. She probably wasn't Ma Biao's
colleague ; she looked more like she'd worked in a clothing store. It was quite
remarkable that she could wear ordinary clothes so well. A black, tight-fitting, thin wool sweater, a red vest over it, light blue distressed
skinny jeans that accentuated her long, shapely legs, and a pair of off-white high-heeled sandals that
tightly encased her delicate, pale feet, which dangled under the table, swaying from side to side as if waving hello
. The wool sweater clung tightly to her body, making her figure appear even slimmer, her ample breasts even firmer, and her
voluptuous, alluring hips encased in jeans. She sat upright in a chair. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders,
gleaming with a honey-yellow sheen (it seemed intentionally dyed that way; you could tell she used to have black hair),
which made beautiful, slightly tanned face appear even healthier.

Ma Biao, with his looks, was truly lucky to have hooked up with a girl like this! However, from
observing them putting down their luggage, it seemed this girl and Ma Biao weren't particularly close; they seemed more like ordinary colleagues
. But why was it her, and not Lao Li and Lao Li together, who came to pick me up? What
subtle connection was there? That careless Ma Biao! He didn't even give me
a

heads-up, leaving me pondering this. Chapter Fourteen: The ten-minute journey took Lao Ma a few minutes. He plopped down next to me and began
introducing the girl. Neither of us stopped him, smiling as we let him continue. "My buddy here is
a quiet type, not very talkative, just a few words are enough. Actually, he's quite talkative..." Ma Biao
said jokingly, patting my shoulder. "Right? But, who knows how many scriptures a monk who doesn't chant scriptures has read?"
Here we go again, he said the same thing four years ago—"Who knows how many scriptures a monk who doesn't chant scriptures has read?"
I know he definitely still remembers that incident. He was quite angry when he said that four years ago, unlike his
nonchalant attitude .

While waiting for the food, Ma Biao told me to call my family to let them know I was safe. I
called , and he seemed quite relieved—Ma Biao had visited my home, and he'd met him. He even praised Ma Biao
as reliable. However, I think he might have forgotten that he'd also warned me, using an old saying—"Better to be
stabbed three times by a Hui than to associate with one." I remember my grandfather saying this, that
Hui people are very "rebellious" and should be treated with extra caution. Ma Biao happens to be Hui. But these are all old wives
' tales, not really relevant to us. Aren't we doing fine now?

I called Xin'er again. She said it was very hot in Chongqing, and business was booming at her shop; she was busy
. We hung up after a few words. Finally, I called Rongrong. She was watching
TV at her aunt's house, planning to rest for a day or two before going out to look for work. Rongrong asked if I'd arrived, and I said I had, which was great. She
then asked where I was, and I said we were eating and didn't know where we were. I remember
walking a long, winding road after leaving the train station . Rongrong told me to call her again, and I said I definitely would. After hanging up,
I felt a warm glow inside.

I noticed Jinlian was watching me intently. I looked at her a little awkwardly and said to Ma Biao,
"Is she your colleague?"

"No, she's my friend, a very good friend, but definitely not in a romantic relationship like you're imagining,"
Ma Biao said, as if to assure me, while habitually pounding his bony chest with his fist.

I wasn't surprised; Ma Biao knew me well, so he naturally knew what I was thinking
. How they met and how they got together was something I'd have to ask Ma Biao later. There was plenty of time; now
wasn't the time—and just then, the food arrived at a low simmering level: a large bowl of taro and vermicelli soup, a plate of pickled pepper chicken, a stir-
fried vegetable dish, and a plate of lean cured pork. The cured pork was so lean that there wasn't a single ounce of fat; Ma Biao had probably specifically
told the owner—he knew I didn't eat any fat.

I was a little hungry, but watching Jinlian so ladylike, taking small bites of food, I
felt embarrassed to overeat. Eating with women is such a hassle; you have to wait for their pace. Finally
, after finishing my meal, I went inside to change my sweat-soaked, yellowed t-shirt into a white-striped long-sleeved purple shirt, and
casually dusted myself off.

"Wow, you look so handsome!" Jinlian complimented me when I came out. I thought she was being a bit
pretentious . My face was still the same; did changing clothes really make me look so different?

"Yes, yes! Back in our school days, lots of girls liked him," Ma Biao chimed in. I
couldn't help but feel a little flattered, despite my forced embarrassment. Actually, I knew Ma Biao was
exaggerating. The only thing he knew was that I had a secret affair with her sister, which had
strained our relationship after he discovered it.

"Shall we go to your place next?" I took my luggage out of the inner room and asked Ma Biao.

"Sigh, it's a bit far to my place..." Ma Biao hesitated. "How about this, let's put our things at
Xiao Lian's place first, then we can rest for a while and take the bus there tomorrow." Ma Biao looked at Jin Lian with a questioning gaze
.

"Anyway, our company isn't far, it's only a ten-minute walk, and we can chat along the way!"
Jin Lian was also trying to persuade me, as if I wouldn't listen to Ma Biao's arrangements. It seemed like they were working together in
a charade . If it weren't for Jin Lian's seemingly superfluous remark, I probably wouldn't have had any lingering
suspicions.

"Okay, let's do that, but my things are too heavy..." I said helplessly, suppressing
my anger. I didn't dare say that Ma Biao was hiding something from me; I couldn't accuse him of that yet.
However, I did feel a sense of doubt and unease.

"That's easy, Jinlian. Don't you have a few good buddies?" Ma Biao looked up at Jinlian and said, "Tell
them to come over and take the luggage first. We'll be there shortly."

Jinlian took out her phone and made a call. After that, we went downstairs to the sidewalk outside the hotel. The sun
was shining brightly there, but I had a knot in my heart, so I remained silent. After waiting for a while, three people crossed
the road and walked towards us. There were two men and a woman. One of the boys looked handsome, and the girl in the long skirt was quite pretty
. She followed closely behind him; she must be his girlfriend. The other one had a full beard,
but he looked like a young man; he just hadn't shaved in a long time. When the three of them reached us,
the handsome guy was very polite, greeting them one by one, and then he carried the luggage on his shoulder and left.

We took a different, quieter road. There were few pedestrians on the road, and the sun was shining brightly, but
I wasn't in the mood. I walked lazily side by side with Ma Biao, and the girl named Jinlian followed behind us.

"She graduated from Yunnan University, majoring in finance and trade," Ma Biao said, pausing to beckon Jinlian forward. "
Why n't you two get to know each other?"

"I studied at Chongqing University," I told Jinlian as she approached, "studied at Chongqing University" instead
of "graduated from Chongqing University," because I didn't have a diploma and didn't want to lie. I looked at
Jinlian again with suspicion. From the first glance, I felt she didn't look like a college student, and I wanted to confirm it again. Jinlian was
pretty , but she lacked the marks of university education—that so-called "
aura" of someone with higher education. Although she dressed well and her clothes fit her well, I preferred to believe Jinlian was more like a simple working girl from
the countryside .

"Ah!" Jinlian exclaimed in surprise, "You're from Chongqing University? A prestigious university! I
admire you so much!" She seemed to have long admired Chongqing University.

"Yunnan University is pretty good too, you're exaggerating a bit. Chongqing University isn't as good as you say," I
said with an embarrassed smile. I was telling the truth; Chongqing University isn't exactly a prestigious university, nor is Jilin
University At best, they're just commonly called "key universities"—a common way of putting it. Only Lao Li's
Nankai University can be considered a prestigious university, but even that's still a common way of putting it.

We chatted on and on, but I wasn't in the mood to talk much. With a weary and disappointed
expression, I answered listlessly. After walking for about twenty minutes, we saw an ancient city gate in the distance. "How
much longer?" I asked Ma Biao, who had been talking non-stop.

"Almost there, almost there, ten more minutes!" Ma Biao said. "Ten minutes at most!" he said confidently
, emphasizing that "ten minutes" was precise.

I didn't even want to talk anymore. They were still telling jokes non-stop. Didn't they say it was only ten minutes at the entrance of the Wuhan Hotel
? Had I misheard? We've walked for so long now, and it looks like we still have to go through
this damned old city gate to get to the other side. I wonder how much longer it will take. If I had known this would happen, I would have just taken
a taxi; that would have solved the luggage problem, and it would have been so convenient and quick. Old Ma is really stingy;
he has so much money in his wallet but he can't bear to take a taxi. Does that mean the richer people are, the less they want to spend money? I don't have much money left
, maybe just a little over a hundred.

As I walked through the city gate, I kept my head down and walked silently. I glanced down and saw Ma Biao's shoes.
Those badly deformed black leather shoes were dull and had several places where the leather was worn down to the size of a toenail.
They were crammed full of Ma Biao's big feet by his toes—they seemed a size too small, like they'd
been salvaged from a garbage dump. I looked up at Ma Biao, and as soon as our eyes met, he hurriedly looked away,
as if afraid to meet my gaze. My suspicions gradually became clearer—he must have some
secret he didn't want me to know.

After the three of us passed through the city gate, we made our way through a maze of turns to a small residential complex with an open iron gate. It
was a five- or six-story apartment building, somewhat dilapidated, but still considered a decent
building (at least from the outside).

We went up the first staircase and arrived at the door on the third floor, on the left. This door was different from the one opposite us.
Although both were iron doors, this one looked much shabby. The red paint had peeled off, revealing rust
. The opposite door, on the other hand, had been freshly painted red, and last year's Spring Festival couplets were still intact on both sides.
Our door, however, was completely bare; even the doorbell button was missing, leaving only an
unsightly tiny hole. The only intact part was the peephole. Just as I was filled with confusion,
Ma Biao reached towards the upper left corner of the door. There, a small piece of paper, about the size of a thumb, was taped to the surface—
hard to spot without careful observation. Ma Biao peeled back the piece of paper, revealing a small red doorbell button
— the doorbell had been mysteriously hidden there. He tapped it lightly twice with his finger, then stepped back to wait for
the door to open, glancing around every now and then.

I watched, my heart pounding with tension. Looking at Jinlian, I saw her standing gracefully behind me,
her long, delicate fingers intertwined, her straight, shapely legs in her pencil pants supporting
her slender figure with unease. She kept turning her head, looking downstairs as if afraid someone would come up. Were
they engaged in some illegal activity?

Footsteps approached the door from inside, but remained silent. Ma Biao didn't call for the door to open.
The man seemed to be peering through the peephole, looking very carefully. After a while, the door finally opened, and I was
pushed and shoved by Ma Biao into the room. Jinlian followed behind and slammed the door shut with a loud bang, which
startled me.

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