Qin | Part 8

The Gaokao was over. Qin was to leave the city to attend college.

Before her departure, she asked him to take her to a local amusement park.

"No woman would say no to that. If you are truly into a woman, you gotta take her into an amusement park. No matter how mature, rational she thinks she is, she'll be reduced to a dumb girl there, and buy whatever crap you say to her."

"Teach me to ride a bike. Remember? You promised."

"Yep, I'll teach you to ride an automatic electronic supersonic crazy-cool gay-as-hell bike in that amusement park. Huh-huh-huh."

On the sultry morning of that day, at the entrance to the park, she passed him a metal box: "Open it."

He opened the lid and there lied a men's belt, brand-new and old-fashioned.

"What, you want me to wrap it around some of your parts and try more nasty games on you?"

Qin beamed a derisive smile: A gift for you, pervert. I bought my father a similar one.

A strange connection.

To his surprise, Qin proved an experienced tour guide, promenading her bungling companion in that park, acquainted with every nook and cranny, orienting at every twist and turn on the route, leading him to jump the queues, sharing her tips on maximizing fun at various facilities. In a Roller-Coaster ride, she could be an timid chick clutching at a sedate hand of her "macho", whereas in a Haunted-House adventure, she could be an aggressive Amazonian warrior, guarding her mushy pussy, holding his hand, scaring back the bogeymen, and striding squarely towards the exit. She convulsed with laughter and screamed her head off in the roller rink; she went gloomy when running into a wall panel depicting an obscene torture scene, in which a naked woman in shackle was mounted on horseback, a gigantic wood stick to be forced into her vagina:

"Torturing a woman accused of committing adultery...Penetrating a woman's vagina with something like that..."

A soft cooing, a mere glance, a bobby pin, and a bit of her juvenile nubile airs would melt his icy resentment towards Qin. A twitch of Qin's hair tips, a treacle word from Qin's succulent tongue, a nuance expression of Qin's blushing face, a subtle bounce of Qin's delicate breasts, all were thronging together to ravage his loin with breathtaking rejoice.

At dusk, they walked side by side towards the exit of the park. Qin stopped, took off the left of her canvas shoes, and checked the contusion on her heel. Blood was seen.

"New shoes have a knack for chiseling into feet."

"I bought them for some special day like today."

"And a 'special' bruise huh? Are they really worth it?"

"Did you have fun today?"

"Hell yeah."

"Then they are worth it."

They were waiting for a taxi to take them home. Staring into a void, Qin confided, composedly:

"Have I ever told you that I'd been assaulted when I was very little? ...sexually assaulted."

"By who?"

"By my father."

Qin never failed to bowl him over with her sudden disclosure of secrets.

"I hate him to the guts. I bless him drop dead. He keeps hurting me with his acidic words even these days. Mama knew everything, but she did nothing. A poor, weak woman like her, you don't get your hopes up too high. Now, I can finally get rid of this disgusting place and these poisonous people. "

Is it true that Qin had never been a pristine landscape, a chaste nymph, but a crumbled pit filled with filthy residues, moldy skeletons and smudgy rubble? Her world had been shattered, her integrity shriveled, long before the first time ever he met her?

He cupped her face. Qin gently rubbed her cheeks against his palms:

"Leave this quagmire. I know you are not happy here. And a young man in his 20s couldn't afford to settle down. If you set out to be a better teacher, go to a metropolis to hone your skills and strive for whatever you deserve. If you stay, I'll kick your ass and kick you out. "

Qin, I don't want to be better. I want to be with you.

I want you.