Cloudy Weather| Friday, June 23, 2019
My wife and I have been married for almost a year, but we could count on one hand the number of times we had sex.
It was not because I didn’t have time, and it was also not because one of us was in poor health. It was just because my skills were too poor.
On the first night of our wedding, I told my wife that I was inexperienced and that if it hurt, then he must speak up, and my wife said yes.
Then I went in.
Stayed for five minutes and cummed.
I awkwardly withdrew and thought for a while before saying to my wife: It’s not my fault, it’s because you’re too tight inside.
My wife didn’t speak.
I leaned over to kiss him, but he dodged me. At that time, I wondered, had I had hurt him? But I was embarrassed to turn on the light for him to check, so in the end I said something that I regret until now——
How about we do it tomorrow?
Then that tomorrow never came again.
Blame me for leaving too deep of a shadow on my wife, so that resulted in every subsequent time I wanted to hit the home run1Home Run (a Baseball metaphor for sex): Euphemism used to express the degree of physical intimacy with lovers or sexual intercourse., either I wilted or he wilted, and in the end, we could only depend on mutual help.
After we finished masturbating one night, I laid down on the bed and said to my wife: Why don’t you fuck me?
But my wife didn’t even look at me and went to take a shower by himself.
I have had some suspicion that my wife was sexually indifferent, and his insistence on his refusal to accept was simply because I am too unattractive to arouse my wife’s sexual interest.
Fortunately, except for our husband’s somewhat disharmonious sexual life—and being too busy at work, only being able each other once every three days, not being able to say three words when we meet, and turning speechless after three sentences—everything else was perfect.
I love my wife.
Sunny Weather | Saturday, June 24, 2019
My wife is a male ballet dancer.
The first time I met him was on stage. He was wearing silk stockings on his lower body, with light makeup painted on his face. His movements were like flowing water and floating clouds, forming a landscape of his own when he advanced and retreated.
Like a ray of light and lightning, it knocked me out all at once.
After that, I often went to see his performances.
Year after year.
Later, I started to inquire about him and began to listen to all kinds of news about him. I came to know where he lived, how many people were in his family, and what his mother and father did. He had a dog when he was a child, from where he had graduated, also that he studied abroad. He liked to eat Cantonese cuisine and did not like spicy food, I also came to know that he worked at a dance training centre in the city besides performing, and knew that he did not have a girlfriend and no boyfriend.
Year after year passed like this.
One time after the curtain fell at the end of the performance and I was about to leave when a staff member suddenly asked me to stop. The staff member said that Mr. Xiao had something he wanted to say to me. I was so scared that I remained motionless, maintaining a posture of facing the gate and back to the stage.
Then my wife came out with a bouquet of flowers. I recognized that it was the flower I had given him, and I was very nervous. I wondered, was he wanted to thank me in person? But, What should I say if he thanked me? Would it be too cold to just say you’re welcome? How about saying you deserve it? Wouldn’t that be a little arrogant? What should I do, why don’t I tell him to stop talking as I have to make a call first…
Sir!
I shuddered and finally came back to my senses.
My wife put the flowers back in my hand and said: Sir, I’m sorry. I have been wanting to tell you that I am a little allergic to flowers, so you better not send me flowers in the future, just come and watch the show.
After finishing these words, he was called away.
I stood there holding the bouquet of flowers, thinking about whether I should bring back the flowers I had sent before, but my mother said that I couldn’t bring back the things I had sent out, otherwise it would appear stingy, so I left anyway.
Later on, I didn’t send flowers to my wife.
I switched to plastic ones.
I love my wife.
…
T/N: Just wanted to let readers know that “mentally retarded” is a term that is often used throughout the text to refer to Gong, this term in Chinese is “智障” and translates to [zhì zhàng]: mentally disabled/handicapped/retarded. And it was my choice to go with ‘mentally retarded’ as the other translations didn’t feel right with what I thought the author intended to convey.
I also am not comfortable with the author’s choice of such a term but we have to keep in mind that while translating one can never fully grasp the intention of the original language. As I was reading through the novel, I came to the conclusion that it might be the author’s way of satire/euphemism that fits their language culturally (or using such a term to subvert the meaning behind it and covey it in an endearing way).
Again, I’m not sure, and any author’s note that might have addressed this also skipped my eyes. Still, one thing I’m sure of is that the author by no means intended to convey any kind of disrespect. So, all I can say is that without having full knowledge to grasp something, please be kind while criticizing it.
