I got up and went to the living room, where I saw Mom and Sam sitting on the carpet doing yoga?
I remembered Sam mentioning he had worked as a yoga instructor in South Africa. It looked like he was teaching Mom some poses.
"Hahahaha, Zihan, look at Mom," Sam seemed very happy, laughing heartily. I saw Mom spreading her legs wide apart. Mom's legs are long, and Sam's legs were also spread wide. His big dark feet were pressing against Mom's calves. Mom looked in pain, the veins on her forehead bulging. "Mom, does it hurt? Sam, be careful, you might hurt Mom," I was speechless at Sam. Mom was clearly in pain, yet he was still laughing.
"It's fine," Mom insisted. "Mom, give me your hands." Surprisingly, Mom obediently lifted both hands, and Sam grabbed them firmly—truly showing no mercy.
"Zihan, you came just in time. Go slowly press on Mom's back, but don't use too much force. Press when I tell you to," Sam looked at me, slowly pulling Mom toward him while gradually spreading his feet wider. "Okay," I said, seeing how serious Sam was. I walked behind Mom, placed both hands on her back. Mom was wearing an orange short-sleeved shirt and casual home pants, her hair tied up, sweating profusely. I slowly pushed her back forward. "Ah... it hurts..." Mom cried out. "Stop," Sam said, his dark hands gripping Mom's wrists. "Mom, hold it like this tonight for five minutes. It won't hurt as much when you practice later," Sam said. Mom's chest pressed forward. Since we were at home with the warm air conditioning on, Mom's shirt had a loose neckline. I wondered if Sam was looking at her chest. The thought made me angry, but thankfully, Sam kept tilting his head to check the clock on the wall. It seemed the Chinese etiquette and culture I taught him were paying off—at least he knew to show respect.
"Ah, giggle..." Mom cried out from time to time. I saw sweat forming on her fair, delicate neck.
After nearly five minutes, Sam slowly released Mom's hands, and I stepped aside. "Ah, giggle..." Mom let out a cry and lay back on the carpet, breathing heavily. "Haha, Mom, you did great," Sam looked at Mom, got up, and fetched her a glass of water. "Zihan, do you want to give it a try?" Sam smiled at me. "Uh, I'll pass," I said, seeing how miserable Mom looked. My old bones couldn't handle it.
"Come on, it's fine," Sam's yoga obsession seemed to kick in as he tried to pull me into it. "No, Sam, I really don't want to," I ran back to my bedroom. "Giggle..." Mom's cheerful laughter echoed from the living room.
That evening, Mom mostly practiced yoga on her own while Sam and I did homework until Dad came home. Sam even dragged Dad into it, and both Mom and Dad were tormented by Sam's yoga moves, crying out in pain. I was the only sensible one—Sam was busy with my parents' yoga session while I focused on my work.
Since Sam came to our home, the atmosphere has become much livelier and happier.
Of course, Mom no longer resents Sam. In fact, I sometimes feel like my parents love Sam more than me. Hehe, though that might just be my own jealousy. My parents still love me very much.
Final exams were approaching, and under Zhang Min's intense pressure, Sam was studying hard. Dad had already exceeded his workload at the company this year, so the company decided not to assign him any more tasks. Every day, he would just go to the office, drink tea, clock out, and return home to tend to his flowers and plants.
With the final exams over, Sam's time at Linhai No. 1 High School was about halfway through. After summer break started, Sam and I played nonstop, having a blast. Occasionally, we would invite Li Xiaojun to join us, and the three of us had a great time together.
Besides playing, I was also serializing "My Her" on "ccnncc.com," and it was almost finished. I received many likes and tips from readers all over the world, especially from a fan from Germany who shared his own story with me, giving me a lot of inspiration for my writing.
That German netizen was named "Frank." Frank sent me many private messages, and we exchanged thoughts, becoming close friends who could talk about anything in the virtual world of the internet.
Since the system automatically translated languages, the German messages Frank sent were all translated into Chinese.
Frank told me that his situation was similar to mine in "My Her." He liked a girl at his school, but she was from France. French women, he said, tend to be quite proud—or as he put it, "Gallic hens"—which made his pursuit difficult and left him heartbroken. I could only comfort Frank by saying, "Persistence is victory."
Frank also told me that he didn't just like that "Gallic hen"; he also had a crush on a female teacher in his class. She was a mature young woman, and Frank even sent me pictures he had secretly taken of her. Honestly, she was very beautiful—blonde hair, blue eyes, with a curvy figure. No wonder Frank liked her; I probably wouldn't have been able to resist either.
Frank finally told me that if he made any progress in pursuing the "Gallic hen," he would let me know. This made me somewhat expectant, after all, some creative inspiration comes from life.
To my surprise, Mom didn't seem as enthusiastic about updating her Douyin as before. I thought it was because she had Dad's company now, living a more genuine life. Plus, with Sam around as the life of the party, Mom's laughter grew more frequent. As they say, laughter keeps you young, and Mom seemed to grow more youthful and radiant, like a blooming flower.
The New Year was approaching. Even though it was vacation time, Sam didn't return to South Africa because he said he wanted to celebrate Chinese New Year with us. "Mom, Dad, Zihan, I saw on TV how fun Chinese New Year is. I want to stay in China for the celebration. My parents agreed, and I hope you'll accept me," Sam said with a pleading look during lunch one day, expressing his wish.
"Hahaha, Sam, Dad definitely wants you to stay and experience Chinese culture for the New Year. What do you think, Mom?" Dad looked at my mom. "Hehehe, yes, stay and celebrate Chinese New Year with us," Mom replied.
Mom smiled slightly and nodded. "Yeah, I love you, Dad. I love you, Mom. I love you, Zihan," Sam said happily before going over to hug Dad and giving him a kiss. Then he hugged Mom, who pushed him away with feigned annoyance, making us all burst into laughter. Sam's parents had sent him $10,000 for his Chinese New Year expenses in China. As soon as the money arrived, Sam transferred it to Mom for safekeeping. On the 29th day of the lunar year, Sam and I went out early to buy New Year goods and fireworks. I wanted to make a good impression and show Sam how fun and joyful Chinese culture and the Chinese New Year could be.
We bought a lot of things. In the evening, Mom made dumplings for us. We planned to return to Grandpa's house for the New Year's Eve celebration on the afternoon of the 30th.
Since Dad was a local of Linhai and a company executive, due to the nature of the company's operations, a leader had to be on duty on the night of the 29th. None of the mid-level managers were willing to take the shift, so Dad had to step up once again. That night, he would be on duty at the company.
In the evening, I chatted animatedly with Li Xiaojun in the bedroom, occasionally working on the remaining drafts of "My Her." Mom and Sam, as usual, practiced yoga in the living room. I had to admit, Mom's yoga skills had improved rapidly—I hardly heard her cries of pain anymore. Once, Sam tried to get me to practice yoga with him, but my stiff limbs practically exploded on the spot, leaving me sore for two days. Since then, I've avoided practicing yoga with Mom and Sam.
As always, Sam went to take a shower, drenched in sweat. Afterward, he brought over two drinks. "Zihan, still chatting? Have some water. You must be thirsty from all that talking," Sam said, smiling as he sipped his drink. "Thanks, Sam. I really am thirsty," I replied, taking the drink. "Hehe, go take a shower and get some sleep. Tomorrow, we're going to see Grandpa and Grandma," Sam said eagerly. Speaking of Grandpa and Grandma, they still didn't know about Sam. I wondered how surprised they would be when they saw him.
"Yeah," I nodded. Sam was quite thoughtful—whenever he had a drink, he'd often bring one for me too.
Sam lay down on his bed, smiling, likely chatting with his girlfriend again. Seeing him so radiant made me a little envious. My relationship with Li Xiaojun was getting better and better. Although we hadn't explicitly defined it, I felt we were practically a couple. After all, Li Xiaojun had held my hand—right on the street—which made Sam quite jealous.
Ever since holding hands with Li Xiaojun, I'd tucked away the Christmas gift Sam gave me—that silicone butt—deep into my bookshelf. I hadn't used it in a long time.
After my shower, I returned to find Sam already asleep, snoring away. It seemed the excitement of shopping and seeing the sea of Chinese red decorations everywhere had worn him out.
I smiled, lay down on my bed, and sent Li Xiaojun a goodnight message before drifting off to sleep.
"Ah!" I jolted awake from a dream.
In the dream, a massive spherical object was swallowing me whole. No matter how fast I ran, it kept rolling toward me, eventually engulfing me completely. That's when I woke up in fright.
My head hurts so much, probably from sleeping in a bad position. I got up and pressed my temples—the veins were bulging, no wonder it hurt this much.
I got up without even glancing at Sam's bed, feeling dazed and a bit dizzy as I made my way to the living room.
Once in the living room, I drank a glass of cold water and finally felt the dizziness subside a bit.
I hope I'm not coming down with a fever right before the New Year. I touched my face—it didn't feel too warm.
As I headed back, whether from dizziness or something else, I thought I heard sounds coming from upstairs. Could there be a burglar? I moved quietly in the dark, creeping up the stairs.
"Hmm..." At the corner of the second floor, I seemed to hear strange, uncomfortable sounds coming from my mom's bedroom. "Slap..." Then came the sound of something being hit, followed by silence. My head throbbed even more, and I couldn't tell if the noises were real or just my imagination. I even felt a wave of nausea. I needed to hurry downstairs to the bathroom. If Mom caught me like this, sneaking around like a thief, it wouldn't be good.
Holding back the urge to vomit, I came downstairs and rushed to the first-floor bathroom, where I started retching. "Bang." I thought I heard a door close—maybe my vomiting was too loud, and Sam or Mom had heard me.
"Zihan, what's wrong?"
After a while, Sam came over to me looking quite anxious. He patted my back. "It's okay, I'm feeling much better now. Just felt a bit nauseous. Sorry, Sam, for disturbing you." Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at him. "As long as you're fine," Sam said, turning to go to the living room to fetch water. Why was there a faint fragrance in the air?
I sniffed. Yes, there was a lingering scent in the air—a smell I felt I had encountered somewhere before. Then the aroma grew stronger, irritating my senses and making me feel nauseous again.
"Here, Zihan, have some water," Sam handed me a glass. "Thank you, Sam." I rinsed my mouth and drank the water, finally feeling a bit better. "Let's go back to the bedroom and rest," Sam helped me up, and we returned to the bedroom. He left again, only to come back a short while later with another glass of water. "Drink this, Zihan. It'll help you recover faster." Sam handed me the water again. After drinking it, I felt much better overall. We chatted for a while before I drifted off to sleep again. The next day, Sam woke me up—it was already nine in the morning. Dad had returned earlier. I got up, and Mom made breakfast for us. After resting for a bit, Sam and I helped Dad put up Spring Festival couplets by the door, though we weren't allowed to set off firecrackers. By the time we finished tidying up, it was already afternoon. Dad drove the car, with Mom sitting quietly in the passenger seat, gazing at the scenery outside. Sam and I sat in the back, laughing and chatting the whole way. Dad, though getting older, was young at heart—he played DJ dance music and sang loudly all the way. Finally, we arrived at my grandparents' house.
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