As far back as I can remember, my dad was a scoundrel who loved to drink. He would often get completely drunk, and when he was drunk, he would strip my mom naked, hang her up, and beat her to death.
I was very young then, and I was always so scared that I would hide in my room and cry secretly.
Later, my mother finally couldn't bear the torment any longer and went insane. In the end, she ran away with a stranger. I was six years old that year.
Children my age don't call me Wu Qing, but "Wu Niang Qing," which is a scar in my heart.
Therefore, I hate my father. From a young age, a seed of hatred sprouted in my heart. It wasn't until I went to high school in another city and attended a boarding school that I didn't go home for two years.
Once, my dad called and said that he had remarried six months ago and wanted to make up for the years he had neglected me, so he asked me to come home for a visit.
But deep down, the scenes of my mother's painful screams always kept replaying in my mind... We were more like strangers than father and son, so I didn't go back. But I never expected that it would be the last time my father and I spoke on the phone.
That day, the woman who married my father, who is also my stepmother, called me and said that my father had passed away. My heart skipped a beat, as if something was missing.
When a person dies, all things are empty. No matter how great the hatred or how deep the resentment, it should all come to an end. That very day, I boarded the train home.
My stepmother said that my father gambled, incurred huge debts, was chased by creditors, and eventually drank too much alcohol, suffered alcohol poisoning, and died despite attempts to save him.
I wasn't surprised at all by this result. I knew that if my dad continued like that, something bad would happen sooner or later.
When I returned to my home after two years away, the door opened as soon as I was about to knock.
When I saw that figure, I was stunned because she looked so much like someone.
It was shocking that my stepmother and my biological mother had almost identical faces. If she hadn't been so young, and if my father hadn't told me beforehand, I would have almost immediately rushed into her arms and called her "Mom."
She was a beautiful woman, exuding femininity from head to toe, just as beautiful as my mother, with a full figure, a perfect face, and an elegant demeanor that left me momentarily mesmerized.
She appeared to have just taken a shower, as she was only wrapped in a bath towel, and her breasts seemed to be much larger than those of an average woman.
Before I could react, she stretched out her arms and hugged me. Because she was standing on the steps, she was much taller than me, and my face was buried directly in her two soft mounds of flesh.
Her hands gently stroked my head as she softly murmured, "Qing, you're finally back. Your father is gone, and you're my only family now..."
Being held by her like that, I felt like I was back in my childhood. My mother used to hold me like that, and I felt an inexplicable sense of security.
After returning home, she changed into a black outfit and took me to say a final goodbye to my father.
Looking at my father lying peacefully in the coffin, I didn't think too much at the time. I couldn't feel sad or happy, because I knew that this day would come sooner or later.
At my father's funeral, my stepmother was like a black flower, her eyes filled with calm. She was only a few years older than me, and she didn't cry even though her husband had died. At the time, I thought it was because she was a strong woman.