At his first glance, he was stunned by my mother's beauty, but at his second glance, there was a stickiness in their eyes.
Now, there was an added allure, a hint of temptation in his charm.
However, I had become quite accustomed to it all.
The clinic had hosted so many men.
He was not the first man that want to have sex with my mother, and certainly would not be the last.
That was because of my mother, with her undeniable beauty and allure.
She was well into her forties, yet her skin remained delicate and tight, devoid of any fine wrinkles.
Her fairness was tinged with a healthy blush, making her look no more than thirty.
On the day of my college graduation, she came to the school for the ceremony.
This drew envy from my friends from college: "Oh my! Emily, your sister is stunning; she should be a star or a model!"
Several boys, mistaking her for a graduate student, blushed and asked for her Line.
A few blurry profile photos of her were posted on the campus website for days.
There were almost no signs of natural aging on my mother's face.
She was so youthful that it was almost eerie.
Moreover, she never indulged in skincare or any cosmetic procedures.
She didn't even use a facial cleanser, simply washing her face with water daily.
When she seemed a bit tired, a visit to the clinic for surgery was all it took.
Afterward, she seemed to have absorbed vitality, looking even more radiant.
I had been curious, too.
But every time my mother went in for surgery, she would tightly close the doors and windows and prevent anyone from entering.
She even made sure to lock the surgery door from the inside.
Naturally, this time was no exception.
After the young good-looking man signed the pre-operative consent form,
my mother pushed his gurney into the operating room.
As the lights in the operating room were turned on, the sound of the lock engaging followed.
Just like any other surgery, I was about to leave and headed to the VIP lounge to entertain Beth.
But I caught a glimpse of a seemingly inconspicuous small window on the side wall.
To my surprise, it could offer a view into the operating room.
I paused and recalled a few days earlier the hot weather had insolated the window to fine cracks.
My mother had the entire glass of the operating room upgraded and replaced.
Perhaps the installation team was careless, installing the one-way mirror for the side wall incorrectly.
As a result, it allowed a clear view: To see what my mother was actually doing inside the operating room.
My palms were sweating. I licked my lips and approached with my steps trembling. I peered carefully through my eyes and blinked not at all as I stared into the operating room.
I saw my mother in a white surgical gown and holding a syringe. She was injecting anesthesia to David on the operating table.
Anesthesia requires precision; too little is ineffective, and too much can damage nerves. Being illiterate, she couldn't control the dosage well. So, the substance in the syringe wasn't anesthetic, but a glucose solution for energy replenishment.
As the glucose was injected into the young man through the syringe, he slowly fell asleep within minutes, losing consciousness.
Glucose didn't have the effect of anesthesia. The real effect came from the water I gave to David when signing the pre-operative consent form.
That water was mixed with a high concentration of sleeping pill, enough to put someone into a deep coma for two hours.
My mother went to such lengths only to cover up for herself, to hide the fact that she, known as a skilled urologist among the wealthy matrons, was actually a quack doctor who hadn't finished elementary school.
After the young man was completely asleep, my mother promptly began the surgery. Then, I saw her take out that fetid, bizarrely colored egg from a box.
I would secretly hide at the staircase and look at it from a distance when she came out of the sixth-floor black room before. It was the first time I was able to observe it so close.
The egg was smooth and round, covered in translucent, sticky fluids. Beneath the murky, glossy skin, something seemed to be squirming slowly.
I pressed against the one-way mirror and opened my eyes wide, still wanted to take a closer look, but my mother held up the egg and turned her body to the side. This angle just so happened to fall into my blind area.
I could neither see the egg nor her actions; all I saw was her busy figure at the operating table. Ten minutes later, she turned around again, and the large egg was gone from her hand. The young man's surgery was complete.
Round and smooth, these small eggs were uniform in size and arrangement, as if they had grown on their own. I suppressed the urge to scream and retreated silently, trying to leave quietly. But the next moment, a scene in the operating room shocked me so much.
My mother actually climbed onto the operating table and took off her coat… She was banging with insensible David and getting busy.
I was trembling with terror outside. After a moment, my mother, with a look of ecstasy, suddenly paused. She had a dazed and content look on her face. And she looked at me directly with her eyes sharp!
Our eyes met, and I was sweating profusely with fear at one moment. And ran away in terror.