FY - 13

Zhou Yan went home directly from the mall. As soon as she put her things down, Si Wen called.

She almost forgot it was Friday; Si Wen should be back in the country.

“Come over.” Simple and crude.

Zhou Yan glanced at the clock: “Now? It’s midnight.”

“Hmm?”

“Okay.”

Her home to Si Wen’s apartment was only about twenty minutes away. Sometimes, driving fast, it would take even less than twenty minutes.

Upon reaching the entrance of the residential area, there was a rear-end collision at the intersection ahead. The road was blocked, and cars were jammed, unmoving. She glanced at the residential area’s gate, so close yet so frustratingly out of reach.

She called Si Wen, telling him about the traffic jam at his doorstep. He just grunted in response and hung up.

The longer she stayed in the car, the more her patience was tested.

Ten minutes passed, then another ten, and the main traffic showed no signs of moving forward.

Switching to the satellite view on the map, this sixty-meter-wide road, stretching for hundreds of meters in both directions, was densely packed with small, unmoving boxes, utterly boring.

She couldn’t wait any longer. She got out of the car.

Looking up, Si Wen stood beside a sugarcane stall, tall sugarcane, and a handsome him.

She jogged over: “Are you waiting for me?”

Si Wen turned to the old man selling sugarcane: “I’m buying sugarcane.”

Normally, Zhou Yan was the one who bought groceries and cooked. As if afflicted by an occupational habit, she stepped past him and asked the old man: “Grandpa, how much is it?”

The old man held up two fingers: “Two yuan a pound.”

At this point, Si Wen already had one in his hand. He thought that was it, but then Zhou Yan took it from him and put it back. She chose another one.

Si Wen’s authority wasn’t respected, and he turned and walked away.

The old man glanced at Si Wen’s retreating figure and joked with Zhou Yan: “Your husband has quite a temper.”

Zhou Yan reacted calmly: “Yeah, he’s a balloon spirit.”

They entered the house one after the other. Zhou Yan was the one behind, and as soon as she entered, Si Wen pinned her against the door. Her hand didn’t grip the plastic bag tightly, and the sugarcane pieces fell to the floor, some even rolling into the sofa area.

Her spine ached, the pain extending from back to front, finally settling into a pair of raised eyebrows.

Si Wen pressed his legs against hers: “Zhou Yan, do you think you’re more capable than me?”

Zhou Yan’s legs were locked, unable to move: “No.”

Si Wen: “Then which one is it, yours or mine?”

Zhou Yan knew he was upset about this. So childish. “Yours was broken.”

“Broken?”

“Broken, the cut surface... mmmph.”

Si Wen didn’t let her finish, blocking all her retreats, forcing her to disarm.

As soon as he presented his “thing,” he grabbed her hair, forcing her to look: “Broken? Taste it and see what’s broken?”

Zhou Yan was forced to take it into her mouth, and with the in-and-out motion, she brought him to climax once.

Si Wen wasn’t satisfied. He pulled her up, kissed her, drawing out her saliva endlessly for the first time.

Zhou Yan hurt. She lightly patted his chest.

Si Wen ignored it, turning the sucking into biting, making her tongue numb.

Zhou Yan was uncomfortable and instinctively closed her mouth.

Si Wen was very displeased by her action. He grabbed her neck, tightening his grip: “Open your mouth!”

Zhou Yan’s face was flushed, veins bulging at her temples and forehead.

Si Wen intentionally thrust forward with his lower body, his hard member poking Zhou Yan’s lower abdomen.

Zhou Yan became wet. Even in such an unequal sexual encounter, she still became wet.

She wanted to curse herself for being a slut, her body always opening up to Si Wen beyond her thoughts, but she didn’t have much confidence.

Who knew if her thoughts weren’t also of the same attitude?

Si Wen finished biting. His hand loosened from her neck and moved to her inner thigh, lifting her up.

He inserted a finger into her passage. The stickiness in his hand made his eyes even more disdainful. He withdrew his hand, stuck out his tongue and licked it, finding it both astringent and salty.

His posture was very suggestive. Zhou Yan didn’t want to look and closed her eyes.

Si Wen didn’t mind. He held his member, stroking it twice: “I want to fuck you.”

Zhou Yan found it ridiculous. When haven’t you just fucked me whenever you wanted?

Have you ever asked for my opinion? Does my opinion matter? So hypocritical.

Yet, she still responded practically—she lifted her leg, easily hooking it over his shoulder using her flexibility.

Si Wen slightly bent his knees, aimed, and slowly entered, filling her.

Zhou Yan couldn’t help but let out a sound from deep in her throat.

Before a colleague went straight, she once asked Zhou Yan why she rejected other men when they paid quite a lot.

Zhou Yan smiled then and said, “The money’s a lot, but the capital isn’t necessarily.”

Her colleague’s “Oh” was drawn out in a thousand twists and turns: “I thought you were a virtuous woman.”

Zhou Yan’s eyes drifted into the distance, looking at the mist-covered mountains, and reluctantly told the truth: “If Si Wen ever abandons me, who do you think would dare to want me? Who would he let want me?”

The colleague was stunned.

“A dog, it’s fine to recognize just one master. Have you ever seen a dog that tried to handle eight piles of shit end up well?”

“You’re calling Si Wen shit.”

Zhou Yan pulled her gaze back, chuckled: “You said that.”

“...”

She was drifting too far, her eyes filled with laughter.

Si Wen was very annoyed by her inattention. He shoved her body over, entered her from behind, pulled her arm, and thrust several times forcefully.

The pleasure of her G-spot being rubbed made Zhou Yan cry out in abandon. She came back to herself.

The movements became more intense afterward, the real sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing with her cries, seemingly eroding their sanity even more.

She screamed louder and louder.

His thrusts became faster and faster.

Each time, full depth.

Deep into the uterus.

Forty-two minutes and twenty-one seconds.

When it ended, Zhou Yan glanced at her watch.

Si Wen grabbed Zhou Yan’s arm, trying to pull her away, but she didn’t let go, even wrapping her arms around his neck, tiptoeing to reach him and not letting go despite the height difference.

He lost his patience: “Get up!”

Zhou Yan wasn’t asking for anything specific from him; she just wanted to lean on him after they finished, to prevent herself from falling prey to the emptiness that often followed, a condition rumored to be eventually cured by drugs.

She felt that her own method could temporarily prevent it.

Si Wen’s voice deepened: “Zhou Yan.”

Zhou Yan remained in his arms, her voice very quiet: “Just for a moment.”

Si Wen said nothing more.

________________________________________

Si Wen had a flight in the afternoon. Zhou Yan packed two extra changes of clothes for him because he said this trip would be longer.

After packing, Zhou Yan brought him his passport, neatly arranged it on the table, and said, “I’m leaving now.”

Si Wen had just put on his shirt and hadn’t yet tied his tie, so he didn’t respond.

Zhou Yan saw that he was distracted again, taking so long to tie a tie. She put her car keys down, walked over, took the tie from his hands, tied it for him, and then smoothed it down with her palm.

Si Wen looked at her, as if speaking to her and to himself: “Don’t take drugs indiscriminately.”

Zhou Yan didn’t overthink it, but she still felt she should respond. It was polite: “Mm-hm.”

________________________________________

Zhou Yan brought some sugarcane back for Zhou Siyuan. She juiced it to make a basket of small steamed buns for him in a thermal container. She also stir-fried two dishes and covered them with a fly screen, so he could just microwave them when he got back.

After settling things at home, she went to work.

Others worked from sunrise to sunset, but she was completely reversed. At first, she thought her routine meant she wouldn’t live past thirty and would need to take some longevity supplements. Now, however, she had come to terms with it: living a miserable life in a human hell was worse than dying early and being free.

Zhou Yan drove her car to the underground parking lot and took the elevator directly to the fourth floor.

The fourth floor housed the offices of various managers, big and small, and Sister Hong’s lounge was also here.

Pushing open the door to the lounge, Zhou Yan entered uninvited.

Sister Hong was reading “One Hundred Years of Solitude.” As soon as Zhou Yan walked in, she seemed relieved. She asked her, “What’s wrong?”

Zhou Yan was in no hurry. She said, “Do you want me to recommend a book to you?”

Sister Hong put down “One Hundred Years of Solitude”: “One Hundred Ways for a Prostitute to Beg for Mercy? Or an SM Research Report?”

Zhou Yan picked it up: “You bought this book because the promotional title was ‘Ten Books Everyone Must Read in a Lifetime,’ and maybe you even got a discount, like a two-hundred-plus order for only one hundred.”

She had actually guessed correctly. Sister Hong raised one of her willow-leaf eyebrows.

“It’s just that everyone else is reading it, so if you don’t, you feel low. But you can’t get into it at all. You probably know the book is well-written, because everyone else says so.”

Sister Hong couldn’t stand her rambling: “Get straight to the point! Don’t beat around the bush so much.”

Zhou Yan opened the flyleaf, then closed it, an unnecessary action, before saying: “This is herd mentality.”

Sister Hong picked up her bubble tea from the table: “And then?”

Zhou Yan put the book back in its place: “I’m not the one with the most bookings at Candy, nor the one with the highest commission. Among over a hundred people, I’d be lucky to rank forty, and that’s when I hit the jackpot. Yet, I’m the most targeted one.”

Hearing this, Sister Hong’s mouth, which was about to sip her bubble tea, froze in a pout.

Two young girls who had just arrived at Candy last month saw two used condoms on the second floor, and it was as if it was written on them that Zhou Yan had been fucked. For those two days, everyone coming and going was saying, “Zhou Yan had a group orgy,” “Zhou Yan was gang-raped.”

Why? Because everyone was saying it.

They said Zhou Yan was slutty, cheap, and depraved, always scheming, the most psychologically twisted and promiscuous person at Candy, even capable of having sex with bosses in public. So these two condoms had to be hers.

Anyway, if one person said it, maybe that person had a problem, but if everyone said it, then it must be her problem.

Sounds illogical, right?

But this bunch of ‘chickens’ at Candy treated this as gospel.

Zhou Yan could tolerate all this; it wasn’t a big deal. She had always dealt with it before, so there was nothing she couldn’t accept. But Fang Nana came knocking, asking for a gig, and when she didn’t get it, she used a needle infected with HIV to prick her?

Had she been out of touch for too long? Did she not know that modern society’s games were so advanced?

She looked at Sister Hong: “I came here to tell you that I’m going to do something next. You definitely won’t accept it, but this is my stance. And a word of advice: today you indulge them in humiliating me, tomorrow they’ll turn around and humiliate you.”

This was a double-edged sword; unless she didn’t use it, she couldn’t expect to get out unscathed.

Sister Hong watched her leave, the bubble tea still untouched.

For some reason, when Zhou Yan turned around just now, she thought she saw Shen Yudie.

She didn’t want to admit she detested Shen Yudie. She was like a mirror, a mirror that could see through her completely.

She had finally outlasted her, and now her daughter came to be this mirror, constantly reminding her that although she was a madam, she lived less authentically than a prostitute.

She had indeed misled those people, distorted their understanding of Zhou Yan, but all that was irrelevant. Who doesn’t gossip after tea? Who hasn’t been laughed about behind their back?

It was merely that they were unrestrained, gossiped a bit, and she happened to overhear them. Was it really necessary to escalate it this much?

Just as she had this thought, the alarm sounded.

Then came a shriek. Extremely piercing, like something from Rashomon.

She rushed towards the source of the sound and saw Zhou Yan straddling Fang Nana on the ground, a needle in her hand, having pricked all ten of Fang Nana’s fingers. Blood stained her pure white skirt, and tears quickly soaked large areas.

Zhou Yan finished pricking, stood up, dusted her hands in the astonished gazes of the crowd, and left.

Sister Hong quickly rushed to help her up: “What’s wrong! What happened?”

Fang Nana’s face was ashen, her hands trembling: “I, I, HIV, AIDS...”

The onlookers all heard it, especially since Zhou Yan had chosen a central area. People from all six floors surrounded this circle, and even if they couldn’t hear, the news would spread among them in three to five minutes.

Sister Hong subconsciously pushed her away, backing up: “You! How could you! She dared to do that to you? You!”

From then on, there was no more Fang Nana at Candy.

Sister Hong was also fined 100,000 yuan by the boss for insufficient supervision.

Later, Sister Hong sought out Zhou Yan, her attitude much better.

She asked her why she was so aggressive, wasn’t it better to leave a line for others?

After all, she and Fang Nana were colleagues.

Zhou Yan couldn’t describe to her how she felt seeing that needle simply stuck in the chair, and not in her own body, nor did she believe that Sister Hong would truly empathize if she did.

She simply retorted: “If I had gotten HIV and left here, would you have asked her that question?”

Sister Hong had no answer.

After that, the voices mentioning Zhou Yan at Candy decreased by two-thirds.

Sister Hong also stopped playing tricks. She began to feel that Zhou Yan was right: manipulating public opinion by exploiting people’s inherent herd mentality might bring some satisfaction, but there would always be a day when it backfired, and then those same opinions might turn against her.

While there was still a path to turn back, it was better not to go forward.