Back home, seeing Xia Ou, no matter how I looked at her, I always felt that her eyes were seductive. I couldn't help but ask, 'Why do you insist on being a prostitute?' My voice inevitably rose a few degrees in the heat of the moment. Xia Ou had been tidying up the table. She was still wearing that white dress, floating around the living room like a misty, enchanting ghost, with a serene expression on her face. Hearing my sudden raised voice, she froze for a moment, then turned back to the kitchen. I was on the verge of anger again, and I thought of that beautiful and pitiful woman whom both Xia Ou and I called mother. She had worked so hard to create a spotless world to shield her daughter. I could even guess why she liked Xia Ou to wear ordinary, neutral clothing—because she didn't want to impart any of herself onto her daughter. Now she was content, feeling that her daughter had grown up safely and was about to marry soon. Her lifelong wishes were almost fulfilled, and she was happy all day like a brilliantly feathered parrot, repeating those few sentences: 'This is just perfect, Xia Ou and you are truly perfect.' The happier she seemed, the more pitiful she appeared to me. Xia Ou was merely my mistress, kept by flowers and money. At first, I felt guilty seeing her admire me with such unadorned eyes, but now, seeing Xia Ou fall without reason, I vented all my emotions on her. 'Are you going to talk to me or not! Do you think you're so noble?' I chased her into the kitchen, speaking excitedly, then saw her pouring away the leftover food. She did her housework with such grace, as if she were playing the piano with artistry. That trace of indifference on her face contrasted sharply with my erratic breathing. 'Are you mute? I told you to answer me!' 'What do you want me to say?' she slowly raised her head to look at me. 'Haven't you already gone to see her?' I felt like I was going to go mad, as if it were my mother, and I was forcing a stranger to be liked. I said, 'Xia Ou, you're heartless! Your mother is already planning for you to marry as soon as you graduate, you know that, right!' Recently, every time I visited my aunt, she excitedly told me they might as well marry right after graduation, skipping the engagement. She was an extremely sensitive woman; whenever I showed even a little dissatisfaction, she would anxiously ask, 'Weren't you supposed to get married anyway?'Don't you want to marry our Xia Ou? Or do you dislike Mom's life? "This makes me have to cooperate actively every time. But my already activated conscience constantly condemns my deception, toward a poor prostitute, a great mother."
Xia Ou's hands paused for a second. When she heard the word 'marriage,' almost immediately, she became busy again, washing dishes and then going out to wipe tables. As she passed by me, I heard a voice trying to stay calm but leaking a hint of sadness: "You know that she's dying soon." "
I calmed down and began to examine her. Her face was pale and thin, her eyes empty. I knew she had a heart that loved her mother more than anyone else. But I just don't understand. "Why do you have to be a ...... prostitute?" I murmured, I'm not looking down on her. I feel sorry for her mother, but I'm also crying out for my own feelings. You should be a pure girl just like you, at the age of a flower. "
Xia Ou stopped moving. She suddenly walked toward me. I saw her eyes, water flowing gently and quietly. "Xiao Bin, I'm very grateful to you for going to keep my mom company." Really. An indescribable gratitude. Let my mom have another son, so you don't have to worry about you being your son-in-law. "
So she saw through everything. "I just don't understand why you don't listen to your mom so much." "Many things, the more you know, the more painful it gets. It's better not to know. Even if you do, it's still a kind of helplessness." I looked at Xia Ou; at that moment, she already had a faint trace of sorrow. I didn't ask anything more, I couldn't bear it. It was already autumn. I was busy and regular like a young man approaching newlyweds, getting up early to work, returning home on time, eating on time, four dishes and one soup, and visiting Xia Ou's mother every four days. I didn't want to analyze my relationship with Xia Ou, nor did I face the extraordinary affection I gave her. My reason for myself was that I was focused entirely on my mother, who was on the verge of illness. But I grew thinner day by day, as if caught up in a beautiful and kind lie, constantly deceiving me. I could no longer tell which words were true and which were illusions.We rarely had sex. I didn't want to remind myself that the beautiful girl around me was my mistress. Every day I held her to sleep, and she always looked at me with tender eyes, her voice full of feminine and maternal instinct, saying, "Go to sleep, don't overthink it." It will get better eventually. "So I went to sleep. I could sleep very peacefully. Only Da Ban knew about my relationship with Xia Ou. When I first told him, Da Ban exclaimed, 'How did you fall into the brothel?' But then, seeing how painful I was, Da Ban realized how serious things were. Da Ban tried to persuade me with his way of thinking, 'What's wrong with being a prostitute?' Prostitutes are human too, and prostitutes have their own tragic stories. Who would have thought, what woman wouldn't want to be properly favored by a man? Then Daban said, the most accurate thing he'd ever said: "Stop making excuses here. The worst pain you can suffer is falling in love with a prostitute!" I looked at Daban in surprise. This brother I've fought with since childhood was so carefree and perfectly hit the nail on my head. "Damn it, I refuse blind worship, so don't make me look like a god. Look in the mirror. Ah, little rascal, how much have you been worn out? Anyone with eyes can see you've fallen for that woman—and you love her deeply!" "I love Xia Ou? And I love her a lot?" "Bro, what do you mean by falling in love with her? You love someone you can love!" "For several days in a row, I was excited, and Xia Ou noticed my odd behavior. She said, 'Why are you so excited about something for nothing?'" I looked at her. My poor and kind Xia Ou was so beautiful it delighted me. Why can't I marry a prostitute? And that prostitute is the woman I deeply love. I was emotionally unsettled, often giving her a grateful hug while watching her quietly tidy up the house. "Xia Ou." I called out, but didn't say much. "How come you're almost 30 and still acting like a child?" She scolded me softly, but didn't blame me at all. "Haven't you heard anyone say that? No matter how mature a man is, he's still a child in front of the woman he loves." "That was the first time I ever confessed my feelings to her directly. I still remember her reaction at the time—her eyes full of surprise and disbelief.At that moment, I thought, I was willing to marry her, even though I had never imagined I would marry a prostitute. From then on, I was like a teenager experiencing love for the first time, maintaining an inexplicable happiness every day. On my mother's side, I also openly expressed my love for Xia Ou without reservation, something I had tried hard to hide before. Whenever I held Xia Ou in my arms, seeing her breathe quietly in my arms was an unprecedented sense of solidarity and emotion. When I completely indulged my feelings, I spoiled Xia Ou in ways that even surprised me, feeling sorry for her small accidents and blaming the iron bed in her school dormitory—she took naps there. Because that iron bed always bruised her waist, I scolded her for not taking care of herself the next moment and harshly scolded their school.
Xia Ou laughed and said I really was still a child.
That period was the happiest of my life. It's so unforgettable that even now, when I think about it, it's a kind of tragic happiness.
