Sanlitun

The sky in the liberated area was clear, and the people there loved to stroll. There was a Sanlitun in the liberated area, its perfume scent pervasive. But I still enjoyed strolling there occasionally, because the area was full of stories. I loved listening to stories, and since childhood I loved exploring the alleyways.
The hot wind in the alleyways blew through old men's shirts, armpit hair fluttering in the breeze, evaporating the chatter and flirtatiousness. Now I love strolling through the Sanlitun, where the air conditioning is blasting, a cool breeze blowing through short skirts, a heat that makes you want to jump up again, all smelling of thirst and longing… I walked through the Sanlitun and sat down at a bar next to the Workers' Stadium. A few years ago, it was packed, the bar counter filled with people in tight leather suits, their waists showing cellulite and the veins on their chests.
I liked sitting inside; those outside were looking for opportunities, while those inside had opportunities to be found. Champagne was being opened every minute in the private rooms, and if one wasn't opened properly, the cork might pop off. The bartender had just placed my lemon-flavored water in front of me when I suddenly felt a murderous aura behind me.
The last time I had this feeling was during breakfast in my first year of high school when our homeroom teacher suddenly appeared through the back door with a box of chalk and started shooting at the back of my head. It instantly transported me back 15 years; the rubber stopper shot out of my skull in a parabola at an angle greater than 30 degrees, landing right next to the bartender. I turned around and saw a slick-back-haired man in sunglasses beckoning to a man with a buzz cut and a ponytail, along with 34D, 36E, and 38F.
"Sorry, buddy! It really wasn't intentional. Let's have a drink, it was a slip-up! A slip-up!" The slick-back-haired man looked at me, holding my glass, his sincere eyes piercing through the sunglasses and the dim light. "It's okay, it's okay!" I forced back tears and held up my iced lemonade. He told the waiter he'd pay for my drink; I think he knew it only cost 30 yuan, less than a 40-yuan bottle of Sprite with ice and a straw. Do you think the slick-back-haired man and I have some connection? No, that was it. The braid was incredibly long and strong, and the buzz cut with a thick gold chain was probably some kind of weapon.
I turned back, and here came the main character. Chuan, a strong-willed but seemingly gentle woman, 1.7 meters tall, her high-necked, blood-red shirt making her 32B breasts look like a 34A. When we weren't close, she was a goddess-like figure (a natural internet celebrity face), but once we got to know her, she was a beer-loving, gluttonous goddess, ordering food as soon as she sat down. Don't assume her name, Chuan, means she's from Sichuan—we're not related at all! We got along well; she could even accurately vomit into my vest inside my suit jacket when she was drunk.
I wouldn't let her off so easily; for the next week, she washed all my clothes and socks, hand-washing them all.
One reason we went to Sanlitun was to tell stories—the romance and folly of the post-reform era, the loves and hates before the economic crisis, and how a penniless young man shone brightly in the primary stage of socialism. In short, life is like a play, and showing off is fine.
It wasn't until we'd known each other for a while that she told me why her name was Chuan: when she was standing, she was called Chuan; when she lay down, she was called San. That night was no exception; I smelled like gutter oil. As I left, supporting this burly woman, I kept rummaging through her bag for her phone, trying to find her family's number. Instead, I found a bunch of missed calls and a bunch of text messages filled with well-wishes and a hotel address from someone named Jing.
I seemed to understand something. I asked her if she was going there, and offered to call her a taxi. She said yes. I got in the taxi, told the driver the address, and gave him an extra 200 yuan for cleaning the car—that's usually the price for vomiting in a car. I also told the driver to tell the doorman to get a trolley to take him to room 808 when we arrived at the hotel. Just as I was about to get out of the taxi, she grabbed me.
2.
"How can you just abandon me like this?! If anything happens to your sister, are you going to take responsibility?! Who said I wanted to go there right now?! I didn't say I knew him! Why are you pushing the luggage cart for me! Are your 1.1-meter-long legs just for show?! You should give the doorman a tip!" Just from what you said, I felt that this woman was definitely alright. "Driver, give me back that two hundred yuan. I guess she won't throw up anymore, and we can save on the doorman. Just leave her at the hotel entrance!" I jerked back.
She immediately tugged at my belt and said, "Count to three, get over here! Who will take care of me if I throw up?!" Turning to the driver, she patted his shoulder, "Driver, to Liangma Bridge, Chaoyang Park, Guangming Apartment! Drive slowly, or you'll have to wash the car." I thought about it again, but I always felt like something was about to happen. After all, this woman was quite attractive, weighing less than 50 kilograms, with a B-cup (must be all natural), long legs, and tight leather pants. Before drinking, she was indeed a goddess. My inner devil told me, "What are you thinking! Kick her out of the car! She's a hindrance, and all that talking!"
Why should she?! She dared to grab my belt with one hand, lean against the window, her legs curled up around my thigh, and I was holding onto the door, her high heel almost poking my groin. And
I just scurried over there, is that some kind of tyranny?! Just as I got to Sanyuanli, the phone rang. A man named Jing greeted Chuan in a deep voice and told her to hurry up! She hung up immediately, then muttered "idiot," and kicked, her heel scraping across my inner thigh. My eyes almost popped out of my head from the pain. I immediately took off her shoe, wanting nothing more than to throw it out the window! She fell asleep again right after hanging up, so I hung the heel on her bra's chest, just in case I forgot and if she threw up, I could catch it. While hooking it, I vaguely saw her off-white, bulging bra—so satisfying!
I just stared at her, watching her calmly step on my manhood. I noticed her new nail polish; black really didn't suit her, and once it faded, it looked like she had fungal nail infection.
The car stopped next to an Indian restaurant on the west side of Chaoyang Park Road. I slapped her on the forehead, and she immediately sobered up. "Assassin!" "Are you crazy?!" I yelled. He saw me and shouted again, "Little madwoman, protect me!" I'm Fang, not mad! She's called me that so many times, and she's drunk and still yelling nonsense. Did her elementary school math teacher teach her pinyin? It feels like everyone around me has a math teacher.
The driver looked at the meter and was about to give me the extra money, plus the two hundred yuan for the car wash.
Just as I touched the money, this girl threw up! I looked at him, then at the driver, who naturally took the money back. "Excuse me, sir, could you give me a discount if I let her wash this car?" "It's not about washing the car, I haven't been able to get any passengers these past few days. This colorful stuff, I guess the girl likes onions, it's strong and pungent... Hurry up and take it away, don't hold you up!" What could possibly happen in this state! She said the car door next to her wouldn't open, so she couldn't help but throw up. I was thinking, there are shoes to catch it, right? But then she realized it was her own shoes, cleverly avoided them, and accurately vomited on the mat under my feet. My shiny lipstick... I really wanted to shove it into her mouth.
Seeing this, you probably think something's going to happen, right? We've already taken her home, haven't we? You're thinking too simply... I finally managed to drag her out of the car, her high heels still hanging from her chest as we walked down the dusty street. "Walk properly, or I'll let go and you'll be sleeping on the street!" "You wouldn't dare, you wouldn't do that, I don't believe you wouldn't feel sorry for me!" "I don't feel sorry for you, my back hurts! I'm so heavy, walk properly!" I just don't understand where she gets the confidence that I would feel sorry for her. Chuan grabbed my neck, and I wrapped my arms around her waist, directly pinching her delicate skin. She was a bit thin, so there wasn't much to grab, otherwise I would have grabbed her breasts, they still had a few ounces of flesh. But she was walking happily. As I walked, I asked, who was the guy who just called? "Bitch!" She said it nonchalantly, but I could tell she really didn't care, or didn't want to care. But no matter what, now this person was in my hands.
3.
You say this person has such a big crime, why did she have to get herself drunk like this? Daring to love and hate has resulted in daring to date and sleep with someone. I supported her with one hand, thinking that Chuan shouldn't just fall into my hands like this, would that girl named Jing come after me?
I had my arm around her waist. Her blouse was silk, very slippery. She walked weakly, swaying with every incline. As she leaned forward, my hand instinctively reached for her breasts. They were soft and large, but difficult to support. She didn't seem to mind this passive groping; she was probably unconscious. "How did alcohol make you lose yourself, lose your revolutionary will? Why did you have to drink so much? You could easily take down a whole company, why are you backing down today? I haven't even had a chance to drink much, and you've already been rambling on and on, and you haven't even had a bowl of sunflower seeds!" "Shut up! Support me properly! Why are your hands so restless? You almost ripped my bra off!" "It's obviously too empty inside, how did you develop to be this big!" She immediately broke free, shoved me aside, and stood swaying beside me. I turned to support her, thinking she was just throwing a tantrum. Unexpectedly, he grabbed my hand and placed it on her chest. "Feel it! It feels great! Big and soft!" "There are people around, it's not good to disturb the peace, hurry home!" I immediately pulled my hand back. He said there were people, but there wasn't a hair on her chest. It was almost two o'clock, why wasn't there a single person dancing in the square? Actually, her fingernails were digging into my wrist, and I felt nothing but pain from her hand on her breast. When
I pulled my hand away, she lost her balance and leaned towards me, falling onto my shoes, which were stained with onion juice. Her short skirt, barely reaching her waist, revealed her flesh-colored panties seamlessly connecting with her round buttocks. The silk panties clung tightly to her cleft, hooking up to her hips, leaving one side of her buttocks completely exposed, while the other side was only partially covered, her breasts round and smooth like peeled hard-boiled eggs.
But now it was all over; she was lying on the ground. How difficult would it be to lift her up again? Her smooth skin was difficult to handle. "Pull me up! Why aren't you helping me up!" It wasn't that I didn't want to, but how could I prop up this lump of flesh lying on the ground? As the saying goes, you can't prop up a wall with mud, and you can't support a beam with rotten flesh. I straddled her, squatted down, hugged her under my arms, straightened my back, and, relying on my squatting and deadlifting techniques, quickly separated her from the ground. Four million years of evolution seemed to be just like this stretch and pull—this lump of flesh stood up!
To prevent her from collapsing again, I simply lifted her onto my shoulder, placed my hands on her buttocks for balance, and held her calves to prevent her from sliding down. This move was something my dad taught me to use when carrying loads of rice, and I brushed it up a bit during the 1998 floods. I never expected it to come in handy now. She hadn't forgotten to grab her shoes and bag, and as soon as I hoisted her up, she let out a scream, "Ah! My stomach! Your shoulders are usually quite round, how come there's so little flesh on them! I'm about to throw up!" I went straight to the elevator, pressed the button, and went inside. She pressed her floor button, and I carried her to open the door, then threw her onto the sofa, and she rolled onto the floor.
I sat in a chair, panting heavily, "Looks like you don't have much flesh, how come you're so heavy! How much can you eat? You've already thrown up half a pound of food!" I was covered in sweat and smelled terrible. I figured I had no choice but to wash up before going home.
Of course, I couldn't just wash myself. I figured she was almost able to take care of herself, so I gave her some warm water, then carried her to the bathroom, stripped her naked, and rinsed her in the bathtub with warm water, but left her in her underwear because she couldn't move her legs. Do you think there's something between us? Otherwise, why would I dare to strip her naked? No, she was covered in vomit. How could I wash her without stripping her naked? She could barely stand, and I had to take off her clothes piece by piece, and she wouldn't cooperate while I was doing so, nagging and complaining. "The clothes are silk, check them carefully, be careful not to tear them! My skirt is Gucci, don't put the clothes and skirt in the washing machine!"
The washing machine… I'm lucky I didn't put them in the toilet, the cover was thrown directly into the sink. I rinsed her while filling the tub with water. I put my pants away, washed her clothes and pants along with mine, and hung them to dry on the balcony. Looking out from the 5th floor, all I could see were windows, no life at all. The concrete jungle was making people increasingly dull, and life was confined to this small space of fifty or sixty square meters. I sighed, drank water naked on the sofa, and suddenly fell asleep.
I woke up with a start, and after a while, it was already four o'clock. I was incredibly sleepy, but I needed to check if Chuan had cleaned himself up. I went back to the bathroom. She was awake too, staring at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought. I walked up to her naked. She looked at me and said, "Behave yourself!" I didn't look at her, stepping directly into the bathtub. "Are you done showering? Hurry up, or I'll shower with you." Actually, I just wanted to take a quick shower and go to sleep. When she stood up, I realized she had taken off her underwear. Her hands went around my waist from behind and hugged me. I felt a cold body and a confused soul against my back. Her face was pressed against my shoulder, her hands naturally reaching down, revealing rows of black steel wire and erect, virile instruments. I turned around. She looked at me and actually cried. She was so open with me that I was at a loss and hugged her.
Suddenly, she pushed me away forcefully and walked back to the room naked. I turned back, turned on the shower, hoping to wash away the murky and inexplicable thoughts. The mirror above the sink reflected a naked shell; my heart was glued to that cold body and bewildered soul.
I dried myself and went to the bedroom. She was already standing by the window, wearing a blue silk nightgown, staring blankly at the darkness outside, seemingly observing the sanitation workers picking up bottles and cans on the street. "Don't go, talk to me a little longer!" I didn't know what she wanted to say, or what else was there to say. I wrapped myself in a towel, sat on the bed, and wasted a whole night of passion. "We'll settle the rest of the story in a bar in Sanlitun. I'm going to sleep for a bit. Don't bother me anymore. I'll go home when my clothes are dry!" I buried my head in the pillow. She lay back down on the bed, her hand on my stomach, leaning against my shoulder. Soon her breathing became slower, one leg was on my heel, and her sideways body was turned into a square shape. My hand unconsciously rested on her left breast, level with mine. And just like that, we fell asleep like two men!

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