Sam grinned at the two of them, then walked inside to put his clothes back on before coming out again.
"Hehe, alright, teachers, you should go inside and get dressed now. It's almost time for the exam!"
Sam looked at the two of them with satisfaction, still clinging to each other and breathing heavily.
"You bad boy~"
The English teacher gave Sam a seductive glance, swaying her body slightly. Only then did the PE teacher snap out of the pleasure of his ejaculation.
The PE teacher released his hold on the English teacher and slowly stepped back, his now-softened penis slipping out of her body. Like a defeated man, he lowered his head, glancing at his own penis before looking at Sam's clothed crotch. Without a word, he hung his head and walked toward the room.
"Sweetheart, go get changed. I'll head out first."
Smack!
Sam pulled the English teacher close, gave her a kiss, and slapped her plump, tender buttocks.
"Ah~ You bad boy~ You made me climax twice~ Hmph~ You're so mean~"
Pouting, the English teacher lightly patted Sam before walking into the room.
Seeing this, Sam closed the door behind them and walked over, waving at me hiding in the bushes, signaling for me to leave quickly.
We ran all the way back to the classroom building. I stared at Sam, full of confusion—just how many secrets did this guy still have?
During the afternoon exam, the English teacher sat at the podium like a bitch in heat, her eyes fixed on Sam the entire time. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy toward Sam—how could he have slept with such a beautiful, well-built married woman?
But then again, since Sam was so skilled with women, I had to be on guard at all times and make sure he didn't get close to my mom. Even though… he had already forced himself on her.
After the exam, Sam and I walked home together.
"Sam, how are you so damn good?! You even fucked the PE teacher?!"
Remembering how the PE teacher had been made to ejaculate at noon sent a chill down my spine.
"Hehe, my dear Zihan, you still have a lot to learn! Come on, I'm hungry. Let's go home and eat Mom!"
"What do you mean 'eat Mom'?! It's 'eat the food Mom cooked,' you idiot!"
This damn nigger really had no filter.
"By the way, Sam, it's been a while, but I suddenly remembered—how did you convince that hotel manager to let you go upstairs back then? And I felt like he really respected you."
It suddenly came back to me—the hotel manager who initially seemed to look down on Sam ended up treating him with great respect later on. That was something I had always wanted to understand, but Sam never gave me a clear explanation.
"Heh, since you're so curious, I'll tell you. That hotel is a brand under Hilton. My family holds shares in Hilton."
Sam looked at me nonchalantly.
"Holy shit, your family owns shares in Hilton?"
I was shocked. After all, Hilton is a multinational chain of luxury hotels, ranking among the top ten high-end hotels in Linhai.
If Sam's family actually held shares in Hilton, that was beyond impressive.
"Damn, Sam, that explains everything. No wonder the manager treated you with such respect—completely different from his attitude downstairs earlier."
I felt more and more that Sam was full of secrets, and I couldn't wait to dig deeper and uncover them.
I remembered that on the night Sam bullied Mom, they seemed to be talking about some promise Mom made to Sam. Did Sam help Mom with something?
And then Mom asked Sam to name his terms, so he demanded those things from her?
The thought sent a chill down my spine.
"Heh, it's no big deal. My dad's business is huge, and he has some ventures in China too. That's one of the reasons he sent me here to learn Chinese."
Sam gave me a slight smile.
"Zihan, do you want to study abroad? If you do, I can take you with me to study at a foreign university—Cambridge, Oxford, what do you think? Or Stanford, Berkeley?"
I knew all these universities Sam mentioned—each one ranked among the top five in the world. Hearing him talk about them so casually, it was as if he could attend any of them just by wanting to.
"Really? Stop bragging. I'd dream of studying at any of those schools."
Even though Sam was probably exaggerating, it was still fun to fantasize about it.
"Heh, really?"
Sam grinned mischievously, licking his lips, his gaze turning somewhat strange.
"Holy shit, forget it. No matter how much I like it, I'm not into guys."
Thinking about what happened in the grove at noon, I felt a shiver run down my spine.
"Heh, what are you thinking? I already told you I'm not interested in men, haha."
Seeing my startled expression, Sam burst into laughter.
"If you want to go, there's a simple way to make it happen quickly."
"What?"
I actually believed this guy's nonsense.
"Heh, call me 'Daddy.'"
Sam smirked triumphantly, his lewd grin giving me goosebumps.
"Ugh... idiot..."
I should have known Sam was joking. He got my hopes up for nothing.
"Haha, alright, don't worry. We're brothers, after all. If you really want to study abroad, just come to me—I'll take you with me."
Sam patted my shoulder, making it sound as if he meant it.
"Haha, idiot, never mind. Forget I asked."
As we walked, we reached the entrance of our neighborhood. There, I saw a familiar, graceful figure—it was Mom. She had just returned from shopping outside, carrying several bags in her hands.
Mom was wearing a flesh-toned, body-hugging midi skirt today. She's always been quite striking—standing at 175 centimeters, her frame is naturally not small. Yet, the flesh-toned skirt clung so tightly to her hips that it seemed almost crowded, making her rear appear even fuller, slightly lifted and undeniably sexy.
On top, she wore an embroidered white short-sleeved blouse, her ample chest stretching the fabric noticeably. On her feet were flesh-toned high heels, and her smooth, fair legs seemed to be sheathed in flesh-colored stockings. With her snow-white complexion and hair tied back, she exuded an elegant, noble aura that caught the eye of the security guard in the booth, who couldn't help stealing glances.
"Mom~ let me take that."
Who would've thought Sam's eyes were sharper than mine? Before I could react, he had already dashed over to Mom's side and snatched the bags from her hands.
"No need, I can carry them myself."
"Absolutely not! Something this heavy—a beauty like you should rest. This kind of physical labor is for us men!"
Mom tried to refuse, but Sam grabbed the bags from her hands, holding them all at once.
"..."
Mom didn't say a word, just looked at Sam with an expression I couldn't quite decipher.
"Zihan, hurry and take Mom's bag! She's worked all day and must be tired. We're men—we have to take care of Mom. That's what Dad told us."
Sam spoke with righteous conviction, his hands full of bags held up to his chest. Against his dark skin, the whole scene looked rather comical.
"Giggle..."
Mom had been silent, but seeing Sam's series of funny gestures, she finally let out a laugh as sweet as heavenly music.
Seeing Mom so happy made me happy too.
"Mom, let me take your bag,"
I walked over, gazing at Mom, who looked like a goddess descended to earth. Time had left no trace on her face; instead, it had only added grace, elegance, wisdom, and beauty.
"Alright, my son is growing up and knows how to care for his mom."
Mom seemed especially happy today. I wasn't sure if it was Sam who had made her laugh or if she had something else to be joyful about.
"Hehe, of course! Right, Zihan? We're Mom's good sons."
Sam continued hopping around left and right, like a gorilla at the zoo.
"Giggle... Alright, stop jumping. You'll tear the bags."
Mom's gentle gaze shifted from me to Sam.
"Oh, and your dad came home today. He's probably waiting for us at home. Let's head back."
Mom looked at me tenderly.
So that's why. Wuwu, I miss Dad too. He finally came back to see us.
"Yay! Dad's back! Time to go home and eat!"
Sam was even more excited than I was, drawing curious looks from the people around us.
As we walked down the hallway toward home, Sam hopped around in front of Mom and me. It was hard to believe that the things he'd done earlier that afternoon were carried out by a kid the same age as me.
At the hotel, his ability to handle unexpected situations was even better than mine. I couldn't help but wonder if Sam was really the same age as me. After all, with Black people, once they grow up, their faces all look somewhat similar—it's hard to tell the difference in age.
I watched my mother walking beside me out of the corner of my eye. Her breathing was steady, her steps slow, and her face slightly flushed as she calmly observed Sam bouncing around. Perhaps she was thinking about how to handle her relationship with Sam, or perhaps she wasn't thinking about anything at all—just watching him as he was.
The evening glow of summer hung over the seaside horizon like fiery clouds. Across from our home, the sky stretched toward the sea. What lay beyond the sea?
The cool breeze of dusk brushed against us, carrying traces of lingering warmth but also dispelling the day's heat. My mother gently raised her hand to smooth the strands of hair scattered by the evening wind across her forehead. In her every movement, her well-proportioned figure was evident, and a faint, delicate fragrance wafted from her. I often seemed to catch this scent, yet I always forgot where I had smelled it before.
"Mom, Sam will be leaving soon. Will you miss him?"
I didn't know why I suddenly asked my mother such a question. Only after the words left my mouth did I realize it might not have been appropriate.
"Probably. After all, he's also a son I've come to care for."
My mother gently patted my head. In her eyes, I must always be her little child who never quite grows up.
"Yeah, Sam is a good guy."
Since my mother didn't seem to dislike Sam, what more was there for me to say?
Perhaps those two nights were just dreams I had. Maybe those things never actually happened. Or even if they did, there was no way to change them. Sometimes, the only way to live well is to compromise and accept.
"Mom, how did you and Dad meet?"
Listening to the evening wind, I couldn't help but wonder. My mother was so beautiful and had so much going for her—how did she ever agree to Dad's pursuit?
"Hehehe… What's the matter, my Zihan? Are you thinking about falling in love?"
"Mom, no way."
"Speaking of this, your dad was relentless in chasing me back then. Of course, I liked him too. After all, your dad was a bit silly, but he was loyal and honest—no tricks or games."
"Really? That's all it took for Dad to win you over?"
"Hehehe, what's wrong with that? Are you unhappy that your dad managed to win me over? Hehehe."
"No, it's just that I think—"
"Well, of course, it wasn't just that. But that's what mattered most to me, and your dad had it. He might not be romantic, but he made me feel secure. Oh, why am I telling you all this? Come on, are you in love?"
Suddenly shifting from her gentle demeanor, my mother reached out and pinched my ear.
"Ouch, Mom, that hurts. Be gentle! I'm not, I was just asking."
"Adult matters are none of your business, Zihan."
Sam, that kid, had surprisingly sharp ears.
"Hehehe… Alright, your dad is home. Let's go back."
As we approached the front door of our house, I saw the lights on in the living room. Dad was home.
We opened the door, and sure enough, the TV was on, and the sound of someone busily cooking came from the kitchen.
Soon after we changed our shoes and closed the door, Dad walked out of the kitchen, wearing an apron.
"Wife! Son! Sam!"
Dad grinned widely, looking at us happily.
"Dad, you're back!"
"Oh, dear Dad, I missed you so much!"
With that, Sam ran over and gave Dad a hug.
"Hahaha, good, good. I missed you all too, haha."
Sam took the things to the kitchen, and I walked over to hug Dad tightly. I closed my eyes, feeling a warmth behind my eyelids—a longing for Dad, and a need to pour out my heart.
"Dad, I missed you too."
In truth, the moment I saw Dad's face, my heart had already melted. Dad, do you know how much I've suffered? How Mom was mistreated by Sam? A surge of bitterness rushed up into my nose.
Of course, these thoughts only echoed in my mind. I could never speak them aloud to Dad. If only those memories could be forgotten—that would be the best outcome. But can memories like those ever truly fade away?
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