I stared at Chen Xixuan, bruised and battered all over, and froze on the spot. How could it be her?!
I helped her up and led her to an empty storage room nearby. Closing the door, I asked, "What happened? Why did Gao Tianjian bully you like this?"
"He said… why do I like you and not him? He wants to have me. He wants to destroy everything you care about."
"So, those rumors at school… were they his doing too?"
"Yes," Chen Xixuan nodded.
"That bastard!" I really didn't want to get involved in anything related to Gao Tianjian, but now that Chen Xixuan was suffering because of me, I couldn't just stand by and do nothing.
Such a beautiful girl, the core player of the school's tennis team, beaten up like this by Gao Tianjian—and all because of me. Honestly, I was furious. Any guy would find this intolerable, let alone a teenager like me.
Just imagine: a girl confesses her feelings to you, and because of you, she gets beaten up by your rival, forced to submit to him. How would you feel? Could you remain indifferent?
I certainly couldn't.
But this Gao Tianjian wasn't someone to be trifled with. In terms of personal strength, I was no match for him. In terms of family background, he was on par with me. Though he couldn't completely overpower me, I couldn't surpass him either. Getting the upper hand over him wouldn't be easy.
But difficult as it was, I couldn't just back down—unless I was a coward.
I took Chen Xixuan to the infirmary, comforted her, and then returned to class.
I drafted a speech and, during the student council meeting after school that afternoon, took the stage and read it aloud.
The gist of it was that I didn't want the student council or the school's atmosphere to be ruined because of me. I didn't want anyone to harbor hatred because of my actions. I specifically called out a few individuals and discussed various school matters, big and small, before concluding the meeting.
I still held considerable influence in the student council and the school—that's how I became the student council president.
To prevent Gao Tianjian from continuing to bully Chen Xixuan, I took it upon myself to request a week's leave for her, allowing her to go home and rest. Of course, she had to leave campus. With injuries that severe, she needed time off to recover.
When I returned home that evening, Mom wasn't there. She had prepared dinner and left a sticky note that read: "Mingming, work at the company kept me too busy today. I won't be back tonight. There's food on the table. Eat, finish your homework, and go to bed early. Don't stay up late."
I lifted the insulated cover—the food was still steaming hot. It seemed Mom had just left not long ago.
Was the situation at the company really that dire? She couldn't even come home to sleep.
I ate dinner, finished my homework, and then went upstairs to tinker with my bottles and jars.
But tonight, I really wasn't in the mood. Maybe it was because I wasn't used to the house without Mom. After some thought, I decided to go to the company.
The company wasn't far from home—just a kilometer away. I jogged there slowly. As I got closer, I saw more and more advertisements featuring Mom, all detailing the success story of the "Ice Queen of Modu." In Modu, Mom had clearly become a well-known celebrity.
When I arrived at the company, it felt much quieter than usual. Upon asking, I found out that the company had laid off quite a few people—likely to cope with the current crisis.
I arrived at the chairman's office on the 30th floor. Outside, I saw my mother on the phone. It seemed there was an issue with the supply of materials needed by the R&D department—the supplier had suddenly changed their mind and refused to sell. After my mother pressed them repeatedly, they finally admitted that Mingshuo was behind it. With Xiashi in a precarious state, if the company were to collapse, these factories would have to face the powerful Mingshuo, and they didn't dare offend them any further.
My mother was so angry that the veins on her forehead were throbbing. She slammed the phone down fiercely.
I hesitated to go in, but she noticed me, so I had no choice but to push the door open and enter.
"Mom," I called softly.
"What are you doing here?"
"I... nothing much, just wanted to see you."
"Finished your homework?"
"Yeah."
"It's already nine o'clock. Why aren't you resting earlier? What's the point of coming to the company?"
"I... I was worried about you."
It was the first time I had ever expressed my inner feelings so openly. I saw my mother pause, then fall silent without saying anything.
I made her a cup of coffee and brought it over to her. "Mom, is the company situation really difficult this time?"
"Just focus on your studies. Don't worry about anything else," she replied, as always.
I realized something—my mother's seven-day punishment for me had been quietly and mysteriously broken. I was talking to her again. Of course, even if the punishment were still in place, it wouldn't have made much difference. My mother and I never engaged in casual conversation. Whenever we spoke, it was always for a specific purpose. The punishment was simply a ban on idle chatter.
Since she wouldn't talk to me, I sat down beside her and started flipping through some documents.
She didn't scold me.
Time slipped by, and before I knew it, it was midnight. My mother had been busy the whole time—flipping through documents, making phone calls, completely swamped. She hadn't taken a single sip of the coffee I made for her. When I looked up at her, I noticed she had fallen asleep at some point.
I walked over quietly and called her name a few times, but she didn't respond, still deep in slumber.
I draped her black suit jacket over her—the nights were still quite chilly.
At that moment, I couldn't help but glance at her chest. My mother's breasts were full and shapely, perfectly rounded and firm, seemingly defying gravity.
Since she was alone here, she was more relaxed, having unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt. I could see the black lace bra she was wearing, the delicate, snow-white skin peeking out from the edges of the cups, and the deep, alluring cleavage. My little brother instantly woke up.
I crouched beside my mother, studying her features closely.
My mother had the classic face of an Eastern woman—an oval shape with delicate, elegant features. No wonder people called her the "Ice Queen." She was truly stunning.
Looking at her thin, tender lips, I felt an urge to kiss them, but I didn't dare. Besides, just yesterday, she had caught me masturbating. If she were to become displeased with me again now, I was sure she'd be completely overwhelmed—especially with the company's troubles already weighing heavily on her.
My gaze drifted downward. She was still wearing her work attire—a white blouse on top and a black pencil skirt. My mother's waist was slender, making her hips appear even fuller. Of course, they were genuinely voluptuous on their own. Her thighs, pressed against the chair, looked soft and plump, encased in sheer black stockings. Her feet were tucked into a pair of black high-heeled shoes.
My mother was truly beautiful, with a figure to match.
Scouts had approached Mom before, saying that with her natural qualities, she would become a breakout star within two years if she entered the entertainment industry.
To be honest, it's true. Even the most popular celebrities on TV today can't compare to Mom's looks, let alone her stunning figure and her elegant, poised demeanor. No one in the entertainment world could surpass her.
Of course, Mom declined. She had a company to run—how could she abandon it to become an artist?
There were also offers for her to be a chest model, hand model, or leg model, but she turned them all down.
The only thing she didn't—or couldn't—refuse was being named "Shanghai's Most Beautiful Face of the Last Five Years" by the city's authorities. It was a significant honor and brought considerable prestige to her company. Perhaps that's one reason why, over the past decade, Mom has successfully led Xias Cosmetics to rank among the top cosmetic companies in Shanghai.
Honestly, I know very little about what happened back then—I was too young. But lately, I've started to feel that there are secrets I'm unaware of, secrets that might one day affect both Mom's life and mine.
As I was lost in thought, Mom suddenly woke up. She seemed surprised to find me still there and asked, "Mingming, why haven't you gone back to sleep yet?"
"I wanted to keep you company."
"You don't need to keep me company. Go to bed now. You're a student—why are you staying up so late? Don't you have classes tomorrow?"
I was unusually firm this time. I walked behind her and said, "Mom, you've had a long day. Let me give you a massage."
"I don't need one. Go to sleep."
Ignoring her objections, I placed my hands on her shoulders and began gently kneading.
Normally, Mom would strictly forbid such close contact, but I knew she had been particularly worn out lately. I was sure she wouldn't put up much resistance—and I was right. I couldn't help but feel a little proud of my judgment and boldness.
Her shoulders were soft and delicate, almost as if they had no bones. I was afraid of hurting her, so I kept my touch light.
I'd picked up some massage techniques here and there in my free time, and Mom seemed to appreciate it. Her body relaxed completely, and she no longer resisted. Soon, she began to let out soft, contented sighs.
To me, those gentle sounds were like a beautiful melody, one I could savor endlessly.
This was a breakthrough in our relationship. I believed that, after this, it wouldn't be so hard to massage her again in the future. After all, I could always say, "You let me do it last time—what's the harm in doing it again?"
Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the wind whispered softly. The room was quiet as we, mother and son, enjoyed this rare, tender moment. Before I knew it, Mom had fallen asleep again.
This time, I didn't hold back. Summoning my courage, I leaned in and gently kissed her rosy lips.
Afterward, my heart raced. The taboo of a son kissing his mother struck deep inside me.
But when I saw the corners of her lips curl into a faint smile and the tension in her brow ease, I knew that, deep down, she didn't really mind her son's affection.
That night, I fell asleep on the sofa.
The next morning, Mom woke me up, flustered because I was going to be late for school.
Seeing her so frazzled on my account made me strangely happy and proud. In a rush, she threw on a coat and drove me to school.
When I arrived, it was already break time. I paid close attention and noticed that the criticism directed at Chen Xixuan had noticeably died down. It seemed my words had made a difference after all.
After all, the reason Gao Tianjian could get everyone to criticize Chen Xixuan was partly due to his instigation and enticement, but also because these girls were more or less jealous of Chen Xixuan. However, as long as I, the main figure, spoke up, these girls, fearing that I would dislike them or think of them as petty-minded, would stop this behavior. Enticement and instigation could never compare to the enthusiasm these teenage girls had for someone they liked.
During the last class of the week, it was time for the weekly group activity. This time, it was a piggyback race. Each class would send one student to choose a teacher, and the winner would be the first to reach the finish line. The winning class would receive a collective honor award.
I've never been interested in such things, but when I saw Gao Tianjian there, carrying their English teacher—a petite woman—with an arrogant look on his face, I decided to join without hesitation.
Since I was participating, no one dared to compete with me. Everyone was surprised, wondering why I, who had always been so laid-back, suddenly became so competitive.
When it was my turn to choose a teacher, I didn't hesitate to pick the Chinese teacher, who was also my homeroom teacher—the one who had called my mother about the monthly exam results—Han Yan.
She was the youngest and most beautiful teacher in our school. Not long ago, she had been selected as an outstanding teacher in Shanghai. Her personality was gentle and soft, with a certain charm reminiscent of a woman from the Jiangnan water towns.
I chose her, of course, because she was the lightest among our class's teachers. The others were either male teachers or heavier female teachers.
Even so, when I chose her, she seemed a bit surprised and blushed. After all, being carried by a male student couldn't be entirely without emotion.
Today, she was wearing a work outfit: a light blue shirt on top and a white pencil skirt below, with transparent flesh-colored pantyhose covering her legs. Although I'm not a pervert, seeing such a sexy outfit on the well-proportioned Teacher Han Yan, I couldn't help but feel a certain reaction.