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Chapter 6 - Chapter 6: Dreams

Working at the bar that day was pure torture, and it felt like an eternity before my shift finally ended. When I got back to my dorm, I carefully took the gift out of my bag.

It was a beautifully wrapped small box. As I opened it, a delightful fragrance wafted out, filling the air. Inside lay a bracelet adorned with a few strings of Buddhist beads. It didn't appear expensive, but it was exquisitely made. I couldn't help but touch it repeatedly before putting it on my wrist, where it fit perfectly.

That night, I was ecstatic. My dreams were filled with sweet scents, his scents. In my dream, he wore the white suit from the first time I saw him. He walked towards me, and I looked up at him. He reached out, gently ruffled my hair, and smiled at me with affection. That night, in my dream, I was by his side, smiling brightly.

I was awakened by a voice calling my name, "Xinyi, Xinyi, wake up! You're going to be late for class."

It was my roommate, Zhang Ying. Besides Zhao Kai, she was my only friend at school. Of course, if Zhao Kai could be considered a friend.

I groggily got up and washed, my mind still replaying scenes from the dream, making me blush. Usually, I woke up early, but for some reason, I slept so deeply that day.

"Get a move on, I'm leaving," Zhang Ying shouted as she hurried out the door.

I rushed to the classroom, where Zhang Ying had saved me a seat. I smiled gratefully at her.

Throughout the morning's classes, I was distracted, constantly thinking about the dream. His handsome face, his scent as he came close, his gentle hands—I blushed at the thought, and time flew by in my fantasies.

After lunch, Zhang Ying asked with concern, "Xinyi, are you okay? You seemed out of it all morning. Do you need to see the school nurse?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Maybe I just didn't sleep well last night," I replied hastily.

Since then, I often dreamed about him. In my dreams, I replaced the girl in white I saw that day. He took me on outings, to parties, and showed me his life. We even did things that made me blush.

Growing up, I hardly had any contact with men, let alone experienced anything romantic. I didn't know where those dream scenes came from, but thinking about them made me nervous and shy. Thinking about the dreams, I bit my lip and instinctively squeezed my legs together. My reactions might be related to an experience from my childhood.

I remember being around five or six, just starting to form memories. My mother had already remarried my stepfather. I clearly remember a stormy night. I was terrified of thunderstorms, and my mother used to stay with me in our dilapidated house. But since moving in with my stepfather, he made me sleep alone in the east room. That night, I was startled awake by the thunder and instinctively wanted to find my mother.

I stumbled through the corridor and towards the main room. As I was about to call for my mother, I noticed the main room's door was ajar. Driven by curiosity, I peeked through the crack.

I saw my mother lying on the bed, her hands tied to the head of the bed, with a white cloth covering her eyes and her legs wide open. My second father was lying on top of her, twisting back, forth, left, and right, and his hands were still playing with something on my mother's chest. My mother made a muffled sound from her mouth, as if saying 'no, no, be gentle, be gentle.' However, my second father kept moving and cursing 'you slut, slut, slut.' I don't know why he called my mother a bitch and slut, but I remember the moans and gasps that filled the room that day, intertwined with the rain and thunder outside the window.

Back then, I didn't know what they were doing. I just knew my stepfather had a bad temper, and I didn't dare disturb them, so I quietly retreated to my room. That scene, however, was etched deeply into my young mind. In later years, I often recalled that night, wondering what my mother felt. Pain? Pleasure? She couldn't have willingly made such shameful poses, right? She must have been suffering. Sometimes I wanted to ask her about it, but I couldn't. I couldn't let her know I had seen her in such a vulnerable state.