One Saturday in April, I was bored in the piano classroom, so I turned around and went back to the classroom where I used to teach painting, a part-time student at the Academy of Fine Arts. I was annoyed by the noise of the children, and I went out and sat outside the studio, where there was a row of parents waiting for the end of class, and I sat next to a young mother who was reading a book. I saw with my spare eyes that the content of the book was petty bourgeois literature and chicken soup for the soul, and I had never been interested in this kind of book, but she was fascinated by it, and from time to time she went back to the previous page to read it again. Her neck was uncomfortable with the long bow of her head, and she put down the book and shook her head a few times, and as she stretched her limbs, her hand touched my face. She quickly apologized after feeling it, saying that she didn't mean it. Then she asked me if I was a teacher at this school, and I told her that I used to be, and she asked me what I taught, and I said I taught painting and piano. Her interest began to shift from books to mine, asking questions as if I were a book, from which she wanted to explore endless secrets and knowledge, and treated me as an encyclopedia that knew everything. I added to the questions and comments on painting, music, religion, literature, and some of them, some of which I didn't quite understand, but using some language skills still made everything look seamless, just like I did during the interview at the "Oshiyama Cultural Research Center".

"You're a genius." "Your child must be as smart as you are," she said. ”

"I hope so." I said, "I'll talk about it when I have children." ”

She asked me if I was married, and then asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I answered truthfully without hiding anything. As if she had picked up a treasure, she began to ask me about my life experience, and asked me if I was born in a wealthy family, and when I was a child, my family was in good condition, and I received the influence of these high-level arts from a young age, and I could receive a good education, just like those nobles in Western literature. I also answered truthfully that I was not born into a wealthy family, and the reason why I knew so much about this was purely out of hobby. When the child left after class, we left each other's contact information, and she said that she wanted to give more guidance on his child's painting when she was free. His child is introverted, I bent down to touch his head and asked him how to say yes, he dodged a little and whispered hello to me. His eyes were clear and simple, which made people feel distressed, and reminded me of a child who was blinded by his mother's slap in his left eye, and a tingling in my heart and renewed regret and self-blame.

"It's so good, and the eyes are so good." I turned to the young mother and said, "The child is growing, so you must protect your eyes and don't be short-sighted." ”

It didn't seem to be much of a sentence that baffled her, but she didn't ask in detail, and replied with a thank you for my reminder, she would pay attention. The following Friday, she sent me a message asking if I would go to the painting class on Saturday, and I replied that there were German classes during the day and only in the evening. She said that she was very impressed with me, and that she benefited a lot from the chat that day, and hoped to ask me for advice again. I humbly replied thanking her for the importance she had shown me, and said that if she needed it, we could discuss it together whenever she was fine. We met at 11 a.m. on Sunday at the north gate of the city's largest new park, where I often wandered when I first returned to the city. The park isn't a great place to meet, but I can't think of a better place. I didn't eat lunch until half-past thirteen. She has an incomprehensible obsession with art and literature, and reads widely, but mostly confined to petty bourgeois literature. I was still very knowledgeable and gentlemanly, and she was very happy.

It wasn't until she told me at the dinner table to introduce me to someone that I didn't think things were going the way I expected, from the first time she showed her admiration for me at the door of the painting studio, and the feeling I had experienced from the previous women, I was eager to get excited about her. It's just that at that time, considering her children, the tone of conversation with her, and the content of the conversation, I once thought that she was a dedicated housewife, loving husband and wife, living happily, and would not do anything beyond Lei Chi. At the same time, my intuition made me feel that I had a chance, and all I lacked was the right timing. But as soon as she said that the person to whom she was introduced, I felt that my purpose was difficult to achieve, that she really just regarded me as a friend, and I was disappointed and began to look for new opportunities. She told me at length how good the girl was, whose parents were retired from public service. I didn't remember a word, I just thought about how to get things on track.

I think marriage is a good breakthrough, when we use the chat tool to chat, I ask her about her lover, she always avoids talking about it, this detail makes me see hope again. The opportunity came one Sunday when she invited me to her home to tutor her children in drawing. At first, my child was very uncomfortable and a little resistant to strangers in the house, but I quickly got along with him through communication and games. At four o'clock in the afternoon, the child was coaxed to sleep in the children's room because she was too tired, and then she and I sat on the sofa in the living room and continued to talk about her hobbies. I couldn't hold back the thirst in my heart and asked her why her lover wasn't there. She said he wasn't there with a look of obvious evasion, which made me confirm that her love life wasn't as stable and happy as it appeared to be. I got up and pretended to go to the bathroom, and when I passed in front of her, I pulled her directly into my arms, and she resisted a few times, then hugged me tightly and buried her head in my stomach.

I began to think that at least not this time, or never, at least this time she would resist to the death, and it would be difficult for me to succeed, because she usually acted in such a way that I never thought she would think that I had such a purpose for her. I had prepared for the worst, and what I had done frightened her, and she would rather die than comply, and then repeatedly claimed that she had never treated me only as a friend. In this case, I fell out with her completely, and I was invited out of the house by her, and it no longer matters whether I will contact her in the future. It's just that how smoothly things went was completely beyond my expectations, and I didn't expect it to be so easy. I stroked her back, touched the strap of her back through the thin white silk clothes, and wanted to slack off through the clothes, but I overestimated my strength, and my experience was not to that extent. I put my hand in front of her and rubbed it for a while, her body trembled slightly, and I held her head in my hand, made her look at me, and told her to go to her bedroom together.

"You carry me." She said, "If you carry me, I will go, and if you don't hold me, I will not go." ”

I stopped her waist and reported her, and the moment her body was in the air, she screamed in fright and quickly put her hand on my neck. We probed each other in her bedroom to find what attracted each other's bodies the most, and she completely abandoned the usual virtuous and dignified and intellectual, and there was wildness, and our identities changed from my initiative to her initiative. She dug through me hungrily, carefully and thoroughly, trying to find all the sensations that would make her happy. Soon, I also felt the benefits of her, she was skillful, varied, and her voice was seductive, always grasping my most fragile nerves, and making me get carried away with my unprecedented feelings, and taste her taste more desperately. The strenuous exercise and crazy nerves drained us too much strength, and we hugged each other weakly, feeling the dazzling prosperity of our hearts gradually dissipate.

She opened my eyes to the fact that the charm of things in this area is so endless that people can forget about life. It turned out that the feeling that I had experienced before that fascinated me was just a small stream, and the real storm was always much more powerful than I thought. When I think of this, I am grateful to her, who made me understand that there is no best, only a better philosophy of praise. She soon had the motivation to set off on a goal again, and she climbed on top of me like a warrior about to charge. I suddenly remembered that the bedroom door was not closed, and when I came in from the living room, I could directly see the two meat routi books on the bed. I was shocked and told her if I was going to close the bedroom door. She used her soft voice to reassure me that I didn't have to worry about anything, she was the only one in her house who had the key.

"Have you forgotten that you still have a child?" I say.

"You're such a genius." "I know my child best, he's not going to wake up right now," she said. ”

I'm sure she's right, but I'm still worried. Although her son is not very old, he should know some things. And her unforgetful performance completely attracted me, and my head entered vacuum mode again, and she led me by the nose to walk in the ethereal air, falling from the sky again and again.

I began to think about her, and I was reminiscing about her feelings almost every moment, but it was a completely different feeling than when I thought of Helenlin every moment. For this young woman, I think of it like a carnivore that has been hungry for a long time, always eager to tear everything apart in one go, and with a summery irritability. When I think of Hai Linlin, it is more like walking in a bottomless cave with a torch in her hand, full of curiosity and trembling, and I may find something that surprises me at any time, and I may be swallowed by something that surprises me at any time.

We exchanged messages frequently, and the most I used to chat with her on the Internet was 5,000 and 32 words a day. I once chatted with her, and the gantry I was controlling at that time almost crashed into a machine with three colleagues sitting on it because of my negligence, but fortunately, others found it in time, so it did not cause irreparable disasters. I couldn't restrain her body's seduction of me, and even the mere memory of her moments in bed made my mouth dry and my whole body shivering. I even took advantage of the evening of the week to go to her and go into her bedroom after she had put the child to sleep, and to join her in relieving my endless thoughts of falling into the abyss. When her parents brought the child back to their hometown, she and I were more free to do what we wanted at her house, as if we were in my own home – her home was our home for both of us. I sometimes walk around in my panties and even with my whole body. She always conjures up all kinds of new tricks to make us both thirsty, and then tightly entwined together, so that the "bath hope" in our hearts can be fully exploded. On the sofa in her living room, on the desk in the kitchen, on the desk in the children's room, and on the washstand in the bathroom, we all like this way of expressing love at our fingertips, where one person always catches the other off guard, and then feels the sudden passion together.

From beginning to end, I didn't know her marital status, I looked closely, there was not a single photo of her lover in her home, or her with her lover, and the bedside in the bedroom was only an artistic photo of herself when she was young, fresh and shy like a budding rose. During one of my actions, I listened to her ask her where her lover had gone. The question made her lose interest in an instant, and pushed me down from her, saying that I had ruined her interest, and that she didn't want to think of anything or words about him.

My time with her made me completely forget about the piano teacher, and I wouldn't even remember that class if it weren't for the fact that her children had to go to the class every week. When I didn't contact the piano teacher for a month, she took the initiative to call me and ask me what I was up to lately, and I lied to her and lied to her that she was busy at work and had no time off. And she guessed that I was not with another woman, and that I was with the same woman she had smelled from me last time. She only half guessed right, I was indeed with another woman, but not the woman she was talking to.

Drawing and playing the piano give me a great advantage in attracting the opposite sex, and many women value these two arts, and thus have a close relationship with men who are good at both. When I look at the dewy love that may succeed, when I decide to try to attack, I always show these two skills of mine in front of them first, and I can win their favor at the first time. In the days that followed, these two skills added a lot of spice to my life.

I felt that I was walking on the old path of Yingxiu's attitude towards love, and I thought I understood the reason why Yingxiu liked dewy love, and I wanted to discuss it with Yingxiu, but in the end, it didn't work. After a long time, when I had intermittent, fictional stories with more women, I realized that there was a serious misunderstanding about the reason why Yingxiu liked dewy love in the first place—he and I were completely different for different purposes. His more direct, fundamental cause is the love of life and the nature of life; Mine, on the other hand, is like a stratagem that needs to move towards a deeper victory—not in love, but in reluctance to live in the past.