Chapter 5

After all that fuss, I got the storeroom keys.

The seamstress delivered several outfits for Dadiao.

In white, he looked ethereal.

In red, bold and unrestrained.

In green, fresh and elegant.

In pink, playful and sweet.

In purple, noble and unearthly.

Together with that face that could bring kingdoms to their knees, it was enough to take my breath away.

As soon as the seamstress left, I sat on him, cupped his face, and kissed him deeply.

Only after I’d had my fill of his mouth did I lean limply against him. Gazing at him with affection, I said, “I want you.”

He stared at me, his rosy lips parting in disbelief. “You’re not sore anymore?”

I bit my lip. “I can bear it.”

I shouldn’t have mocked my husband for feasting once he suddenly came into money.

Given the chance, I was no different.

I had questioned my husband, understood my husband, and become my husband.

Dadiao scooped me up and carried me toward the bed.

“You can have it. All of it. It’s all yours!” he said.

…

Life went on like that.

By day, my husband went to work to earn money.

Dadiao and I hid in my room, making love.

When we weren’t sleeping, we held hands and strolled through the garden, enjoying the scenery.

Neither of us liked going out.

Looking at Dadiao was enough for me.

Dadiao didn’t care about anything.

I gazed at him, besotted, and he let me.

I pulled him into deserted corners and kissed him greedily. He endured my devotion and let me lick him.

Life was bliss.

After lunch, we lay on the little couch.

Doing what we loved to do.

Usually, that was what we did.

I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to do it with him every day, every moment.

I especially loved breathing in the scent of his skin.

I didn’t think he was a smelly man at all.

“Diao’er, you smell so good!” I said.

Then I took a deep breath.

When Dadiao read, I clung to him.

He read his book; I watched him. I also touched his face, his eyes, his nose, his mouth, and his Adam’s apple.

Every time, he pushed my hand away. “Can you behave normally? I’m not a meat bun, and you’re not a dog.”

I licked the hand he pushed me with and said shamelessly, “For you, I’m willing to be a dog.”

He looked as if he couldn’t stand it.

But he still depended on my goodwill to get by, so naturally he didn’t dare resist.

Sometimes he didn’t want to do it anymore.

He said that if he had to fulfill his marital duties six or seven times a day, sooner or later I would drain him dry.

But I still couldn’t stop myself from forcing him.

I felt as if he’d poisoned me.

When I died, I would insist on having him buried with me.

Neither of us would wear anything. We’d lie straight in the coffin in that position, with a quilt over us.

I told him my idea.

“Once you’re dead, will you still get to decide whether you’re dressed?” Dadiao asked.

“With my last breath, I’ll kill you, have someone carry you into the coffin, and climb in myself. Heh-heh-heh!”