Ever since that heart-to-heart talk with Mom in bed, our relationship had become somewhat delicate.
Before, she always looked at me with a fierce expression, as if saying, "You better behave." Now, there was a strange glint of amusement in her eyes, giving off the illusion of "I get you, bro"—almost like she was about to bump fists with me and say, "Hey, man!"
Of course, I knew what Mom was thinking, but this feeling of an elder trying so hard to befriend you was really weird and awkward. I'd rather she slapped me, kicked me, and yelled, "Ling Xiaodong, you're asking for it!"
A week later came the midterm exams of the first semester of senior year. Maybe because of all the recent events, I didn't do well—dropping from the top ten in class all the way to eighteenth place.
Before dinner, Mom sat on the living room sofa, staring at the report card in her hand without a word for a long time. Frost gradually crept over her beautiful face, and finally, she slammed the table hard and shouted, a sound I hadn't heard in a while, "Ling Xiaodong, is this how seriously you study?"
I pouted and frowned, looking pitiful as I said, "I've been trying really hard."
"Then why did your grades drop so much?" Mom demanded sharply.
"Maybe... others are trying harder."
"So you know others are trying harder!" Mom slapped the table again. "It's senior year already. Everyone is sprinting forward. It's like rowing against the current—if you don't advance, you fall back. Do you understand that, son?"
"I understand, but... I'm anxious too." I really didn't know how to explain it to her.
Mom glanced back at Dad, who was playing on his phone, and her anger flared. She shouted, "Your son is burning up, and you're still playing around!"
Dad quickly put away his phone and pretended to take the report card, muttering, "Let me see. Oh, not great. You'll have to work harder next time."
I quickly chimed in, "I will, I will. I'll definitely work harder."
Mom snatched the report card back, her chest heaving with anger as she gritted her teeth and said, "You two, father and son, are really ganging up on me. You're going to be the death of me."
Dad said, "Oh, it's just one bad exam. Just do better next time. Why are you so angry all the time? Anger hurts your health."
I hurried over to Mom's side and gently patted her back, repeating, "Anger hurts your health."
Mom shot me a glance.
Dad asked, "What time is it? Is dinner ready, honey?"
I immediately followed up, "Yeah, what time is it? Is dinner ready, honey?"
Mom slapped the back of my head, slammed the report card onto the coffee table, and stood up. "I'm going to die from your antics sooner or later."
After dinner, I went back to my room to work on practice tests. Not long after, Mom pushed the door open and sat down beside me.
I knew why she was there. Before she could speak, I raised my hand and said, "Mom, don't worry. I'll learn from my shame and work harder. I'll definitely do better next time."
Mom showed no reaction to my statement and said expressionlessly, "Let's not talk about next time yet. Let's discuss this first. What exactly caused your grades to drop so sharply? I just spoke with your homeroom teacher, and she said you're always absent-minded in class, unable to concentrate. What's going on?"
I frowned, scratched my head, and muttered, "I can't really explain it. I just feel a bit dizzy."
"Are you sick?" Mom reached out and touched my forehead. "No fever."
"Don't worry, I'm not sick."
"Then can you be honest with me? Why can't you concentrate? Is it because I scolded you a few days ago, and you're upset? Or... is it something else?"
I waved my hand. "It has nothing to do with you scolding me. You scold me 366 days a year, and on leap years, you even work overtime to scold me an extra time. I'm used to it by now."
Mom couldn't help but laugh and cry. "Your mouth... I'll have to sew it shut sooner or later. I'm talking about something serious now. Can you stop joking around? Get to the point. What's the reason?"
"What's the reason?" I mumbled, then shook my head with a serious expression and sighed. "I'm not really sure either. Maybe the pressure is too much."
"You're under pressure?" Mom sounded skeptical. "You're always cheerful and carefree, nothing like a student about to take the college entrance exams. Where's your pressure coming from?"
"Well... maybe this is what they call the troubles of growing up."
Mom slammed the table, got up angrily, and left the room.
I leaned back in my chair and thought carefully. I really couldn't explain what was going on. My mind was a mess, filled with an inexplicable emotion that lingered in my heart. Though I didn't want to admit it, the source of this emotion was Mom.
Lately, I'd been thinking about Mom for no reason—her joys and sorrows, her every smile and frown, even the way she scolded or hit me.
This had only happened once before in my life, right after I had been intimate with Lu Yiyi. For some reason, I had wanted to stick close to her back then.
I vaguely sensed something and felt scared. I even went to an internet café to search for information about Oedipus complex, comparing it to my situation, but I couldn't find a clear answer.
I kept comforting myself in my heart, telling myself that I was only infatuated with Mom's sexy body as a woman, not with Mom herself.
I wanted to shake off these distracting thoughts and focus on studying, but I just couldn't concentrate. My psychological troubles even made me forget about my physical needs at times.
I wanted to talk to someone about it, but I couldn't find the right person. I thought about seeing a psychologist but eventually gave up. After all, even I found this somewhat perverse. How could I possibly bring it up with anyone?
The next day, after dinner, Mom went to the kitchen to stew something, while I returned to my bedroom to bury myself in my studies.
About an hour later, Mom carefully walked in, holding a bowl in both hands.
I glanced at it—a dark, thick soup with a layer of oil floating on top, the aroma of meat mixed with the smell of Chinese herbs. I couldn't help but frown. "What is this?"
Mom said mysteriously, "Ginseng black chicken nourishing soup—this is a secret recipe I got from other parents."
I suddenly realized, "Ah, so that's what you've been busy with in the kitchen."
"What do you mean 'that'? This has ginseng, black chicken, goji berries, sesame seeds, red dates, and walnuts—all to refresh your mind and help you concentrate." Mom brought the bowl to me and urged, "Here, be careful, it's a bit hot."
"Mom, do you really believe in this? It's just superstition."
"What superstition? This is a recipe passed down by generations of mothers whose kids took the college entrance exams. It works. Drink it first."
"I just ate, I can't drink it now." I frowned, instinctively resisting.
"Drink it," Mom commanded.
No choice, I took the bowl, hesitated for a moment, then pinched my nose and gulped it down in one go. Aside from being a bit greasy, it actually tasted pretty good.
"Alright then."
Mom glanced at the bottom of the bowl, nodded, and said, "Study hard." Then she got up and left the room.
I thought it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing, but over the next few days, she kept making this ginseng black chicken soup for me.
To be honest, the soup actually had some effect. Drinking it made my blood surge and my spirits soar. Forget concentrating on studying—the sexual urges I had been suppressing for days came rushing back. Now my mind was filled with dirty thoughts, and I had no focus left for studying.
Now I really couldn't study. I desperately needed to let it out.
Lu Yiyi was naturally the best candidate, but ever since that last incident, the little girl seemed traumatized. She ignored my teasing and flirting, no matter how much sweet talk or romantic words I poured on her. She was completely unmoved, and I couldn't get anywhere with her.
Getting into bed was hopeless. It looked like I had to take care of it myself.
But my phone, computer, and even adult magazines had been confiscated by Mom. I could manage with just imagination, but it was too boring.
After thinking it over, using Mom's stockings over my dick was still the best way to get off.
Unfortunately, the last pair of Mom's stockings I had saved was used up a while ago.
Strangely enough, since that day, Mom's stockings had disappeared again. Not only could I not find the ones she took off, but even the clean ones were gone. I had no idea where she hid them.
Maybe she realized it wasn't appropriate for her son to use her stockings and gave up on the idea.
After coming home from school, I found that my parents weren't back yet, and that restless feeling came over me again.
Like an addict craving a fix, I paced back and forth in front of my parents' bedroom door. I kept telling myself in my head that since I had promised Mom, I had to keep my word. I had to hold back, hold back, and absolutely not relapse.
Just then, I heard the sound of the door lock turning. I jolted and quickly pretended to be nonchalant, sitting down on the sofa.
"Back already?" Mom greeted me as she changed her shoes.
When I looked at my mother, I couldn't help but pause in surprise. Her long hair, which she usually wore tied up at the back of her head, was not only let down but also styled into a wavy, side-parted bob. The hair at her forehead was slightly tousled, resembling bangs, with soft, flowing lines that covered half of her profile and cascaded down her back. The slightly messy ends added a touch of laziness and casual charm. Paired with her captivating almond-shaped eyes and sensual red lips, she exuded the full allure of a mature, enchanting woman.
As my mother leaned forward slightly, her well-defined hips stretched the black pencil skirt taut, rounding it out like a plump, juicy peach.
Her long, slender legs were clad in sheer black stockings, delicate and translucent. The black pointed-toe stilettos had been taken off, revealing her petite, adorable feet encased in the black stockings. The tips of the stockings had grown slightly transparent where her toes pressed against them, with hints of bright red nail polish faintly visible.
Mom had always worn her hair up, straight, or short before. This was the first time I'd seen her with such big, wavy curls, and it was incredibly sexy.
My eyes went a little wide, and the bulge in my pants instantly hardened.
Perhaps sensing my intense gaze, Mom turned around. Seeing me staring blankly, she asked with a puzzled expression, "What's wrong?"
I forced myself to stay calm, propped my chin on my hand, and grinned. "I thought some beautiful woman had walked into the wrong house. Turns out it's just my dear mom with a new hairstyle."
"Cheeky," Mom muttered with a smile, then straightened up, placed one hand on her hip, struck a pose, and asked with a grin, "So, how does the new hairstyle look?"
"It looks great," I said, giving her two thumbs up. "Even Guan Zhilin and Lin Chi-ling combined couldn't compare to you."
"You're such a sweet talker," Mom smiled, winking at me. "I'll reward you later."
"Reward me with what?"
"I bought the lamb chops you love."
"Lamb chops?"
"What, you don't want them?"
"It's not that I don't want them, it's just that I'm feeling a bit... heated."
"One meal won't make a difference. Have some cooling tea after you eat."
I felt my whole body burning up, my heart pounding wildly, and my bulge hard as iron. To keep Mom from noticing, I clamped my legs tightly together, pretending nothing was wrong.
It wasn't until Mom turned and went inside that I suddenly jumped up, clenched my fists, and pounded the couch, trying to calm my excitement. In the end, I ran straight to the bathroom, stuck my head under the faucet, and let the cold water pour over me.
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