(i)
After seeing her, I really understand what is picturesque. Her face has a kind of Uyghur girl’s flavor, her features are obvious, black and white, like the picture of the frontier dance in the history textbook. She loves to smile, is not the characteristic of minority girls?
I tricked her into sitting on the back of my motorcycle. It was a crazy party, everyone realized what was going to happen later, and not many people cared what happened.
Her hands were wrapped around my waist and she was screaming something at the top of her lungs, the car was going 120 and was racing over a narrow bridge, I didn’t dare turn around. The strong wind blew her words behind her ears, leaving only an itchy snort. I sped towards the moon, the road ended at a beautiful beach, I knew it.
‘You’re beautiful.’
‘Yes?’ When she smiles, there’s a tiny dimple in her right cheek, the left side of her face is covered in shadows so you can’t see the other one. I pulled her against me in my arms, soft and supple, just as I’d imagined.
‘I haven’t seen you before.’
She laughed again: ‘Oh, me too.’
Stupid answer to a bad question, I thought. So I reached down and pulled out and fondled her breasts, this was the final chapter of the party, coitus had to be completed to finish the sentence of the night.
Her breasts were warm and soft, and I freed them from the bra and kissed them as she lay on her back on the sand, seeming to respond with little passion, just letting me roam over her. In the moonlight she looked like a streaming corpse, pale and wooden, and I began to regret making her my companion for the night.
‘You’re not interested?’
‘It’s okay, you do you.’ She laughs. She really loves to laugh, but I don’t know why she laughs.
‘I just want company, and you’re the perfect companion.’ She explained. I didn’t understand at all, so I continued to complete my rituals, such as raping a beautiful corpse.
‘You’re great!’ She smiled brightly.
‘You’re lying.’ I said in frustration: ‘You didn’t even lift your feet.’
‘But I thank you for bringing me here.’ She smiled again: ‘It’s a beautiful place.’
I don’t get it, but there’s no reason to pursue it. It’s just a game, why trouble yourself?
As the day dawned, I noticed a few scars on her wrists. What kind of memories made her so needy of a companion? I still don’t understand, maybe she was abandoned? I’m trying to figure it out because she’s beautiful.
‘Maybe I can still keep you company tonight.’
She looked at me for a while: ‘I’ll remember to keep my feet up.’ She laughs.
(ii)
But I never saw her again after all, that’s a small thing, who cares about someone who meets in passing. Anyway, now that I’ve waved goodbye to my ridiculous years and started working at a company, Kei occasionally comes over to help me add a dish or something, and she’s still seriously considering marrying me.
Xiaohui is supposed to be a typical good wife and mother, by which I mean she can agree to you kissing her, but it has to be in a hidden place; you must never touch her because she will turn her back on you; and you must not even spit the word fuck out of your mouth because she will pray for you in repentance. Xiaohui is a good woman, she cooks well and loves children, sometimes she pays my rent at the end of the month, she gives a lot to me, except for refusing to sleep with me.
‘You can’t have that before marriage.’ She said.
Have you heard of the story of Mencius’ mother? It is said that Meng’s mother, who did not sit on an improper seat and did not eat when she cut herself, finally gave birth to the intelligent Meng Zi. I doubt Meng Zi had a beautiful family, in real life, Meng Mother must have been a boring woman, think about Meng Zi’s father, he might only be able to get hot with Meng Mother on the night of the full moon, perhaps, he was only allowed to have sex in the same position, how horrible it is. Is Xiao Hui also a modern-day Meng mother?
(iii)
It was the least conspicuous place in the whole hospital, where some of our former buddies were gathered, and Tintin was leaning against the wall, his head bowed down in tears. The sun shines on this dank place, but it seems to be unable to revitalize it.
A van drove up and we stepped out of the way so that the doors stopped right at the entrance, where the mortuary staff were already waiting, and quickly pushed Zhao in. I knew that Jo didn’t want to go, and wasn’t ready to go, but he had reached his final destination, and he had to wave goodbye to us with his hand dangling out of the stretcher.
Tintin had come from nowhere, his face with its heavy makeup still on, his tears haloing his green and black eyeliner like a defiled and drained river, and his silver carryall glistening with droplets of teardrops in the sunlight. Tintin has finally found eternal love, he will never show up at a weekend party again, Tintin will monopolize his memories.
Lao Zhao’s parents glared at us with disgust, as if we had to be responsible for the crash.
‘Go back!’ I said. We walked to the other end of the hospital, where former friends and companions were arriving, so I met her for the second time.
She hadn’t changed much, just her hair was a little longer, the helmet couldn’t cover the dark clouds that leaked out, letting them flap in the wind, she skillfully put her hands on my waist and pressed her breasts up against me, which made me a little jealous, thinking that she must be very experienced, which was hard for me to accept, but the physical contact still triggered the lust that had been suppressed by Kei. I parked the car in front of the hotel, she obediently cross out of the car, it was noon, the sun hard in the sky rage.
Into the room, her face again hung a smile that I do not understand, I finally saw her other side of the dimples, the two sides are not symmetrical deep, but an unexpected harmony. From the bottom of her eyes, it seems to be able to see the shadow of lust, perhaps the old Zhao’s past, so that she has seized the present feelings. I grabbed her, and she rolled passionately on the bed, I noticed her legs tightly wrapped around my waist begging for mercy, spasms of her lower body like a tide of slippery juices gushing out, flowed on the hotel’s blue background of the sheets, but also wet and greasy scars on her buttocks.
I think he is happy, he does not need to catch youth, and do not have to understand love, he only need to leave his smile to her to worry about, and she, keep the damn memories, and I, can only moment that is eternity.
‘Did he race cars too?’ I wrapped my arm around her sobbing shoulders, a few shallow scars on her bare back, writhing with the sobs. The scars on her hips were larger, so maybe she happened to land on her buttocks during the crash.
‘No, just bad luck.’ I thought of Tintin, who was in the back seat of Old Cho?
‘So you started looking for company?’
‘I killed myself.’ I think of the thick and thin lines on her wrists, the way she collected all his memories, but wasn’t happy. Maybe love doesn’t give you pleasure, it’s an aphrodisiac wrapped in sugar, an eternity of pain. She didn’t have the courage to get out on her own, so she just sat in the backseat, hoping they’d flip back.
In the hotel, the fan shook her head feebly, her face was on one side, I couldn’t see the wetness in her eyes, but I seemed to hear the sobs in her heart. She turned to me and asked me to enter again, I pushed in silently, but as if I were in hell.
(iv)
The end of the wedding reception was reserved for old friends, we poured bottles of beer and joked casually, I knew they were having a big party after the wedding reception and I was the absentee of course. She quietly slipped a note in my hand to book our meeting. Then getting into the backseat of some déjà vu person, I clearly saw her place her hands on his waist, saw her lean her breasts up and whiz away. I remember the moonlight that night and her smiling face. Was it time for me to start collecting her memories?
This companion piece (II) is written for Brother Zhu Guanbei, in response to my last response. I think the text of the response is too ambiguous and may lead to misunderstandings, so I hastily posted this article in the hope that Brother Zhu would know the connotation of my response and not cause misunderstandings.
My little brother has always believed that erotic writing, in addition to sensationalism, also more or less reveals what is the heart’s desire?
Or is it a catharsis of lust? Can love not also be explained by Husserl’s phenomenology, that it can only exist at a certain point in time? Then eternal love is impossible; we are, after all, only collecting fragments of what is possible.
I am young and shallow, and I often make inappropriate statements, so I hope that you advanced sea letter.
(v)
The new room is on the top floor of the hotel, I stumbled in holding the wall, obnoxious in-laws stared at my drunkenness and shook their heads. Xiaohui rushed over to help me, there is no smile on her face, I can not remember that she ever laughed, perhaps the rest of my life must be accompanied by a serious oil painting, I think of the walls of the old castle in the movie, are filled with a picture of a picture, against the light as a ghost, I must accompany her to the end of her life?
In a haze, the room clouded over, there was no longer any sound around, the bathroom light was on, and inside, ‘clatter, clatter, clatter’
The sound of the water continued, Kei was the girl with the cleanliness fetish, and I, with the smell of alcohol all over me, was lying on a clean spring bed.
Kei came out of the bathroom, wearing a robe that her friend had given her, and was so tight that it was impossible to tell if there were any clothes underneath. She wiped her damp hair with a towel, looking over towards me as she did so. ‘You’re drunk.’ She said, her expressionless face giving no indication of her happiness or sadness.
The tie catching on my neck was making me uncomfortable, and without answering her, I rushed into the bathroom and began to vomit.
My robe was of the same style as hers, and I couldn’t stand wearing them, shrugging it off and letting my naked finery be on display for her to see, as Kei looked down shyly and just played with the sash. I had no experience of sleeping with virgins and didn’t know how to break the ice, and the women at the party were all so lively and outgoing that you didn’t need to put a lot of thought into what you wanted to do with them, and they usually expected you to talk less and do more.
‘I’m sorry…’ It was a good opening line. Khun kaew raised her head, her eyes flowing, a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth, and I affirmed her virtue.
The crescent moon hung diagonally above the floor-to-ceiling windows, coldly watching the hot battle that was about to unfold. I walked up to Kei and she lowered her head, not knowing what to do. I held her head and leaned against my not-yet-erect prick, she shook her head in panic but couldn’t swing away from the pressure I was applying, the heat of my prick heating up her cool cheeks and making her pretty face explode into flames. Kei wrapped her hands around my hips and pressed herself against it, the gradually expanding prick, pressed against her cheekbones fluttering and throbbing.
I sat down and kissed her, the fresh scent of black man’s toothpaste still lingering in my mouth, my tongue sweeping over my baby teeth that were smooth white. She closes her eyes and lets me suck her juices, then gently and quietly releases the tip of her tongue to meet mine. I sucked it into my mouth, savoring the gentle throbbing of her taste buds until Kei’s gasps grew louder.
I reached down and squeezed her breasts, still feeling their firmness through the layers of fabric. Her hand dropped unobtrusively to my shaft, gently probing it with the back of her hand, then grasping it with her backhand and squeezing it.
Underneath the robe is also pure white underwear, which I’m told is a wedding custom to symbolize the bride’s purity and innocence.
I unclasped her bra, her breasts were unexpectedly large, the tips of her breasts protruded high, with a light pink color, stroking them, they seemed to be slightly moist, I lowered my head and kissed them, Kei was so shy that she reached up to cover them, so I had to lick at her fingers. She ‘snorted’ out a laugh, letting the tips of her nipples show through her fingers, teasing my lust. They took on some of the distinctive feminine scent of breasts, a detail I had never noticed at the party, perhaps the time and place were not right, and each time it was a rushed lovemaking session that I didn’t get to savor.
Xiaohui lay down smoothly, her white panties casting a shadow, her legs still clenched, and I managed to remove them, discarding them in another corner of the room, where she lay on her back in the middle of the bed like a golden statue award, waiting for the best actor to receive it.
‘I hear that one hurts?’
‘A little bit, right?’
‘You’ll be gentle, won’t you? That one of yours is so big.’
‘That one that one, I’m so confused by you.’
‘Don’t say that word.’
‘That one is that word?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Oh, then don’t fuck…’
‘Mmm~ You’re bad.’
I am not like Meng’s mother, so I put my heart at ease, but what role will she play in the days to come on the back of the motorcycle?
Passing through a row of old four-story apartments, I turned left into a long traditional marketplace, which was a bit sluggish at dusk, so I stopped to buy a few flavors of brussels sprouts and walked into an even narrower alleyway on my right.
She lives on the top floor of the illegal building, the wooden walls do not seem to be very strong, from the outside you can vaguely see the interior furnishings, outside the door with a YALE fake lock, it seems that she has not come back. I took out the key she left me and entered the room. On the nightstand was the toilet paper from the last time I wiped it off, hadn’t she been in the room since that night?
There was a tape recorder on the desk, and as if my name was coming through the transparent holder, I pressed play curiously.
‘This is Winter, see you at the usual place at six.’ My voice came out of the recorder, a little distorted, it was a message I had left on her voicemail a few months ago, ‘Hi, it’s Winter, see you at the usual place at six.’ It was another message. The tape seemed to play the same phrases over and over again, a few months together, but only a dozen words left?
I remember a book mentioning someone who specialized in collecting a few moments of silence on the phone, the story of which I’ve completely forgotten, perhaps someone was exploring the story behind the silence? My memory seems to be stuck in that pile of silence.
Behind each message, does it represent the joy of meeting each other, or is it a bone-deep longing? Or is it just another passion? Bewildered, I let the tape slowly send out the sound, as if walking into a dark time tunnel. In a flash of shadows, I tried to catch some deep memories of her as if she were naked, waving at every corner of the tunnel as I squeezed and squeezed her breasts, tore at her pubic hair, and pumped her hard as she laughed with pleasure. And then what? And then, frozen in a fucking inexplicable void.
Can memory be reduced to a few movements and be finished? How many times does a thirty-minute message represent a rhythm? Or is the capacity of the memory only able to store that square inch? How many MB of memory did she have? Rummaging through her drawers, there were more tapes, labeled with recognizable and unrecognizable names, what had she remembered? What did she forget? I don’t know.
She didn’t come back and I spread out the marinara and poured myself a full glass. The time is twelve o’clock sharp and the moon hangs in the southwestern sky. I raise my glass to say goodbye to my twenty-fifth.
(vi)
Perhaps too repressed before marriage, after marriage, Xiaohui turned into a mother beast in heat, all the time demand, let me some can’t hold back. Her words were often characterized by ambiguous vocabulary, which seemed to become her daily entertainment, and as soon as she leaned on the sofa or the bed, she could immediately enter the fighting position. She had so many ideas and tricks in bed that it was hard to believe she came from a conservative family. There’s really nothing to complain about, don’t men expect to have a wife who looks like a slut in bed?
Kei’s torso is impeccably perfect, her skin smooth and elastic, her juicy secret place compact and warm, her panting and moaning even better than a porn star, and in her you can achieve everything a man can aspire to. If she wants to go even deeper, for example, she’ll put her legs over your shoulders and let you push against her deep womb, gently gyrating back. She might turn around and let you enter from behind, tightening the muscles of her vaginal cavity around your prick and letting you out in a flash. In short, she has all sorts of ways to make both of you feel sexually pleasured.
I didn’t know what was wrong. I loved Khun kaew’s cooking, I loved having sex with her all night long, but other than that, I couldn’t seem to find any common ground between the two of us. Maybe it was the pressure from her strong family, or maybe it was her beauty, which made me ashamed of myself, or maybe… I didn’t love her at all…?
(vii. end)
Moving towards twenty-six, I walked down the stairs and turned on my cell phone, ‘The number you dialed is not responding…’
(Where is she?) I dialed again. (Kei is home, right?) Still no answer. Did she go back to her fucking mom’s house again?
I stepped on the motorcycle, it was a modified KAWASAKI, silver and white body, the fuel tank and the seat formed a beautiful arc, I started it, it obediently purred, slowly gliding through the jungle. The moonlight was like snow, and it was especially bright in the moonlight. I accelerated my speed and smoothly raced out of the jungle.
It was just me and my KAWASAKI at this party, and it was a happy ride with no baggage, right? We dashed towards the moon, not caring about the oncoming mountain wall, I remembered Lao Zhao, then, my KAWASAKI and I tangled in front of the mountain wall, I just entered the twenty-six, I finally found my partner.
Erotica is not easy to write, maybe the next one will be better?