Chapter 5: Fantasies
I’m writing three books, so if the protagonist’s name shows up as Lu Yun, Chu Yu, or Chu Fan, don’t be surprised. It’s probably a mix-up.
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The moment the food was set on the table, the aroma slammed into Chu Fan’s face.
A steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup sat in front of him. The noodles were springy and firm, with a few glossy pieces of chicken floating in the broth, scattered with chopped cilantro and slivers of ginger. Just looking at it made his appetite flare.
"Aunt Qin made it."
Shen Rulan handed him a bowl and said gently,
Chu Fan nodded, and he kept that woman in mind too.
Aunt Qin was the family’s longtime housekeeper, a little over fifty, short and broad through the waist and shoulders, her skin dark and shiny, her footsteps heavy when she walked.
But she was quick with her hands and feet; once she stepped into the kitchen, the pots and pans seemed to talk to her.
As soon as the food came out of the pot, the whole house filled with fragrance.
Simple and rough, but unmistakably the work of someone who was truly "one of the family."
Chu Fan picked up a bite of noodles and put it in his mouth. The broth touched his lips and he jerked from the heat, but it was the kind of heat that felt long-lost and comforting.
He suddenly thought of the bland bowl of plain noodles he’d had for dinner and instantly lost interest. That couldn’t be called a meal; it was just making do.
A real meal was fragrant, satisfying, something that pleased your taste buds and left you content after you ate.
But the mood at the table was far from warm.
His father-in-law, Song Chenglan, still wore that icy expression and never once looked at him.
His wife, Song Zhiyao, was the same.
Only Song Zhiyu seemed to feel none of the frozen atmosphere at all.
She was curled in her chair, eating noodles in a careless sprawl, one leg angled off to the side, looking as if she’d practically sunk into the seat.
The black T-shirt she wore was wrinkled from sitting, one corner of the hem riding up to faintly reveal a strip of pale skin at the top of her thigh.
Halfway through the meal, she lowered her head to slurp her noodles, and the T-shirt sank with her movement. The soft flesh of her chest was pinched into shape by the fabric, full and distinctly rounded.
The cloth pressed against her breasts and swayed lightly with each swallow. The outline of her nipples was so clear you could even see a faint little rise beneath the fabric.
Chu Fan quietly looked away. His throat tightened slightly, his breathing hitched, and the noodles he’d just lifted nearly slipped from his chopsticks.
He hurriedly swallowed a mouthful of soup. His throat clenched, and he nearly choked.
Before he could cough, a pair of pale, slender hands had already passed him a glass of water.
Shen Rulan stood beside him. The silk house dress she wore clung tightly to her body, outlining every curve in sharp detail, especially the full breasts on her chest, which stood out even more because she had bent slightly forward.
The smooth fabric hugged her breasts, soft and full, swaying faintly with her movement as though they might spill right out from under the thin cloth.
"Slow down," she said softly, her voice gentle. "Don’t choke."
"Thanks, Mom!"
Chu Fan took the water, and the instant his fingers brushed hers, it felt like a current had run from the soft, delicate pads of her fingertips.
Her fingers were so soft and smooth!
Chu Fan froze for a second and looked up at her unconsciously.
Shen Rulan was still smiling, tender as water, and she didn’t notice Chu Fan’s odd reaction at all.
After they finished the late-night snack, Song Zhiyu wiped her mouth and darted straight back to her room.
His wife, Song Zhiyao, took the suitcase she had brought and went up to the second-floor study.
His father-in-law usually liked to stay up and watch the evening news, but after glancing at Chu Fan, he actually went back to the bedroom early too.
And so, in the huge living room, only Chu Fan and Shen Rulan remained.
The light from the television flickered softly across the wall, and the sofa sat in quiet stillness.
Shen Rulan leaned against one corner of the sofa, one leg folded over the other, exposing her pale ankle and the rounded hollow behind her knee. She gave off a casual, lazy sort of allure.
She turned her head to look at Chu Fan and smiled faintly. In a gentle voice, she said, "Xiaofan, Zhiyao has a cold personality, and she’s in the criminal police unit, so don’t take some things to heart."
Chu Fan paused, then shook his head and smiled. "I’m used to it. I’ve actually understood her way of doing things for a long time."
Shen Rulan looked at him, the smile still lingering at the corners of her lips, and said softly, "Xiaofan... if you’re tired, go rest early. Though you’re, um... this is your home, so don’t be so reserved!"
Though she didn’t say the word outright, Chu Fan knew exactly what she meant. He smiled and said, "Mom, I’m not tired."
"Mm!"
Shen Rulan smiled and lowered her head for a small sip of water, her warm lips brushing the rim of the glass before pulling away, graceful and elegant.
She set the glass back on the coffee table and tilted her shoulder slightly. With her eyes lowered, she smiled, a few strands of hair slipping down over her pale cheek and making her look even softer, with a touch of mature feminine charm.
After a while,
Shen Rulan said softly, "Xiaofan, it’s getting late... I’m going to bed first."
"Okay, Mom. You’ve worked hard too. Get some rest early."
Chu Fan turned to look at her and nodded.
"Mm. You wash up too and get to bed early later," she said with a smile and a nod.
With that, she stood up. The silk dress on her body swayed lightly with the movement, the smooth fabric clinging to her skin and outlining her mature, full figure. Her chest was full and lifted, her waist narrow enough to wrap one hand around, her hips round and high.
Especially when she walked, the curve from her waist to her hips rippled with every step. Her narrow waist looked delicate enough to hold in one hand, and the back hem brushed along the round shape of her ass, making Chu Fan’s throat tighten and his cock jump hard under his pants.
She casually tucked the loose hair over her shoulders behind her ear, revealing a slender stretch of collarbone along her neck. Before turning away, she glanced at Chu Fan gently and said in a soft voice, "Talk to Zhiyao properly tonight. You’ve been married three years; the things that need saying should be said. She’ll listen."
"I know, Mom!"
Shen Rulan nodded. "Mm."
Then she walked upstairs at an unhurried pace.
Not long after, the bathroom light at the end of the hallway came on, and a faint sound of running water drifted out in fits and starts, like a long spring rain tapping against the window, dense and maddening.
Sitting in the downstairs living room, Chu Fan faintly heard the sound, and his gaze drifted unconsciously toward the upstairs bathroom.
For some reason, an image surfaced in his mind:
The bathroom light spilled over the slick tile floor. His mother-in-law stood under the shower, stripped bare, her plump pale body exposed naked in the light, revealed inch by inch.
Hot water flowed slowly down from her shoulders and over her collarbones, then across her chest. Her high, full breasts trembled slightly under the stream, the nipples bright red and stiff in the light, the tips beaded with droplets of water, so glossy they looked almost lickable.
She lowered her head and picked up the body wash, her palm rubbing over her chest, making her breasts sway softly with the motion.
The water kept streaming downward, slipping past her slender waist and down to the top of her thighs. A thin line of water nestled between the soft folds of her pussy, tracing along the crease of her leg and disappearing between the backs of her knees.
With one foot lightly propped on the stool and her body leaning forward to wash her leg, her full ass tightened into a taut, ripe curve, her skin carrying a faint wet sheen.
Chu Fan sat downstairs knowing full well he couldn’t see a thing upstairs, yet the dense patter of water from the bathroom hammered at his heart.
His throat went dry. He couldn’t help closing his eyes for a moment, his Adam’s apple rolling as he forced down his breathing. In his pants, his crotch had already swelled hard and hot, pressing the fabric tight, the veins beneath the skin bulging up.
The image grew clearer and clearer, surfacing in his mind on its own:
She was kneeling on the bath stool, her full ass tensed and her cleft slightly parted, water sliding down from her pussy drop by drop onto the white porcelain...
He subconsciously clenched his legs shut, every muscle taut, not daring to move. He was terrified that someone upstairs would hear the noise and come down to catch his shameful state.
But the more you try to suppress something, the less you can hold it back.
That was his wife’s mother, a kind and gentle elder to him, but here he was, fantasizing over and over about her body, her movements, and the way she looked while bathing.
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Forgive me for only having one chapter today. I really didn’t have the time.