Not long after their casual conversation ended, Wei Ming arrived late to the classroom. Yang Haoran hadnβt even exchanged a few words with him before the class bell rangβtruly cutting it close.
This period was math class. Professor Li had been discharged from the hospital early and had returned to teaching. Ironically, it was Yang Haoran who had ended up in the hospital back then.
During this math class, Professor Li seemed particularly concerned about Yang Haoranβs academic progress after his absence. He called on him multiple times. Fortunately, Yang Haoran had already finished studying the course material. Every time he was summoned to the podium to solve problems, his results left Professor Li beaming with pride, who didnβt hold back on praise.
Yang Haoranβs face flushed from the compliments. In truth, he hadnβt been studying diligently during his hospital stay, persevering through hardship, keeping up with his coursework, or demonstrating any kind of hardworking and tenacious spirit.
Anyone unaware of the situation might have thought that heaven was bestowing great responsibilities upon him, first testing his resolve, wearying hisηιͺ¨ (muscles and bones)…
After class, Yang Haoran finally let out a sigh of relief. He felt like a monkey in a zooβevery time he was called to the podium, it was for the entire class to gawk at him.
Noticing that Ji Youxi had taken out that copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude again to browse during the break, Yang Haoran wisely decided not to disturb her this time. Instead, he chatted with Wei Ming as they headed downstairs, arriving at an empty patch of grass. They leaned against a banyan tree, sitting on the ground, and began smoking, blowing clouds of smoke.
This spot happened to be at the back of a comprehensive building, blocked from view, so they could smoke in secret without being disturbed.
A little further away was the school’s small grove, but there was no need to go that far.
“Xiao Mingzi, canβt you buy better cigarettes? Itβs always Liqun. Iβm sick of them,” Yang Haoran said, taking a deep drag. The flame suddenly burned fiercely towards the cigarette butt. As he slowly exhaled wisps of smoke, the taste of nicotine was indeed refreshing and addictive.
“Haozhi, your face is thick enough to build a wall,” Wei Ming retorted with a laugh. After taking a satisfying puff and exhaling, he said, “Youβre lucky to even get Liqun. At home, I smoke Furongwang.”
Yang Haoran fell silent, remembering Wei Mingβs familyβs financial situation. He was right. He pulled the cigarette pack from Wei Mingβs pocket, took one, lit it, then fiddled with his phone for a moment before turning to Wei Ming. “I just transferred two thousand to you. Iβll cover your cigarette money from now on.”
Seeing that Haozhi seemed serious, Wei Ming took out his phone and glanced at it. Sure enough, two thousand had been transferred. He initially thought of refusing but then remembered that his own mother had already been offered up to Haozhi. Taking two thousand wasnβt excessive at all. Besides, this asshole clearly had money but had been mooching off him all this timeβhow shameless.
Wei Ming happily accepted it, laughing and scolding, “Why donβt you just buy your own cigarettes? Is your mom still keeping such a tight leash on you?”
Haozhiβs previous excuse for smoking his cigarettes was that his mother was strict and he didnβt dare buy them himself.
“Itβs not that strict anymore,” Yang Haoran said, thinking about his motherβs recent changes. Had his mother changed? No, it was the relationship between mother and son that had changed. That was the root cause.
After a momentβs thought, he said, “She doesnβt allow me to smoke, so I just smoke behind her back. If I smoked at home, sheβd still dare to hit me. But in private, it might not be the same.”
Wei Ming was puzzled. Wasnβt it natural for a mother to discipline her son for bad habits? Why use the word “dare”? And what did he mean by “in private”?
“But you reminded me. Next time, Iβll smoke in private. Probably, smoking in that kind of mindset will taste even better!”
“Haozhi, what do you mean? Arenβt we smoking in private right now?” Wei Ming asked, utterly confused.
Yang Haoran smiled slightly and didnβt explain.
The “in private” he referred to was naturally when he was training his motherβsmoking contentedly while leading her around like a bitch on a leash. That would undoubtedly be incredibly satisfying.
He even fantasized about tossing the cigarette butt on the ground and making his mother lift her leg like a bitch urinating to extinguish it. He would record the scene with his phone, and every time he showed the video to his mother afterward, she would surely blush with shame.
It was another excellent idea for humiliating his mother, and Yang Haoran made a mental note of it.
After finishing their cigarettes, they parted ways. Yang Haoran and Wei Ming walked back to the classroom with their arms slung over each otherβs shoulders.
Two more classes passed until Chinese class, when Gu Qingying walked into the classroom with a textbook under her arm, said “Class begins,” and started teaching as usual.
Yang Haoran was feeling somewhat frustrated and even began to doubt Youxiβs analysis. Teacher Gu didnβt even glance at him from the podium, and he wasnβt among the students called on to answer questions.
In homeroom teacher Gu Qingyingβs class, he was like a ghostβas long as he wasnβt openly sleeping with his head on the desk, Gu Qingying basically paid him no attention.
Nothing changed throughout the entire class, leaving Yang Haoran feeling insecure. After class, he tried asking Ji Youxi about it, but he disturbed her reading again, prompting her to ignore him completely.
One Hundred Years of Solitude? Was it really that good?
Yang Haoran muttered to himself as he walked out of the classroom into the hallway. Wei Ming, following behind him, overheard his murmuring and asked in surprise, “Haozhi, whatβs that? One Hundred Years of Solitude? Are you talking about that book Ji Youxi is reading?”
Wei Ming had passed by Ji Youxiβs seat earlier. She was exceptionally prettyβin his words, “fucking hot”βso he couldnβt help but sneak a few glances and had noticed the book she was reading.
In that brief glance, Wei Ming vaguely remembered the title seemed to be One Hundred Years of Solitude.
Hearing Wei Mingβs words, Yang Haoran thought he had read it. Leaning against the railing to enjoy the breeze, he asked Wei Ming, “Whatβs that book about? Is it really that good?”
“One Hundred Years of Solitudeβ¦ judging by the title, itβs probably about someone growing old alone,” Wei Ming said.
Yang Haoran had guessed the same. Hearing Wei Mingβs words, he nodded in agreement. What was so interesting about someone living alone and dying in solitude? Heβd rather read Aunt Shenβs erotic books.
But it seemed like Aunt Shen had stopped writing after finishing The Bitch and Her Master. Maybe she had written everything she wanted to, or perhaps she hadnβt found inspiration for her next book.
The female protagonist in Aunt Shenβs books was incredibly seductiveβvoluptuous, with a hot and sexy figure, a full waist, and ample hips. Her stories had accompanied Yang Haoran through countless lonely nights, even helping him build his “qilin arm” (masturbation prowess). Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would one day be able to train the real-life inspiration of the bookβs heroine to act like a bitch, completely “submissive”!
The mere thought of Aunt Shen made his crotch tighten and his whole body grow feverish. Aunt Shen was like a walking aphrodisiac. If you didnβt think about her, it was fine, but once you did, her enchanting face would appear in your mindβher captivating, suggestive eyes gazing at you tenderly; her hot, sexy body, full breasts and round buttocks, that slender, flexible waist twisting like a beautiful snake. Just thinking about her made him want to fuck her, willing to exhaust himself to death and die between her legs.
As the saying goes, “To die under the peony flower, even as a ghost, is to beι£ζ΅ (romantic).” It couldnβt be more fitting.
I wonder if Aunt Shen can get pregnant⦠Yang Haoran thought with a sigh, remembering his agreement with her. Both of them had been trying hard. Whether she could conceive was up to fate.
He couldnβt leave Aunt Shen, just like he couldnβt leave his mother. He wanted even more for Aunt Shen to succeed in getting pregnant, to nurture the fruit of their love. When couldnβt he take Aunt Shen out for public exposure? Of course, getting her pregnant was the most important thing.
The gentle breeze seemed to sense the young manβs troubles, softly brushing against his cheeks and stirring his hair.
Leisurely moments during class breaks were always short-lived, yet always pleasant.