Chapter 3: The Impotent Husband Zooms in on the Surveillance Footage in the Duty Room, Staring at His Wife's Plump Buttocks, Tightly Pressed by Her Skirt, for a Long Time
The Orthopedics On-Duty Room, 6th Floor, Surgical Inpatient Department, Bincheng First People’s Hospital.
The duty room wasn’t large, about twelve square meters, and contained a single bed, a desk, and a swivel chair.
There was a metal filing cabinet and an old wall-mounted air conditioner. The air conditioner was on, cooling, but the air vents emitted…
The buzzing sound was more irritating than the cold wind itself. A faded calligraphy scroll bearing the words “A Doctor’s Benevolent Heart” hung on the wall.
It was left behind by the former department head when he retired. His handwriting was mediocre, and a thin layer of dust had accumulated on the glass of the frame.
Lin Jianguo sat in a swivel chair, the top two buttons of his white coat undone, revealing the collar of his light blue shirt underneath.
His left hand rested on the desk, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the surface, making a rhythmic tapping sound. Right
He held a pen, the tip hovering above a discharge summary, but hesitated to put it down.
It was 4 PM. The orthopedic ward was relatively quiet on Sunday. The minimally invasive surgery for a herniated lumbar disc that had been performed that morning was underway.
Everything went smoothly. The patient’s vital signs were stable after the surgery, and the nurses checked on him every two hours, so he didn’t need to worry about anything for the time being.
Another resident physician on duty today is Xiao Zhou, around 27 or 28 years old, wearing glasses, who just completed his residency training.
After a year, he is hardworking but lacks experience, and when he encounters a situation he is unsure about, he will come knocking on his door.
Knock knock knock.
There was a knock on the door. Speak of the devil, and he appears.
”Come in.” Lin Jianguo put down his pen and pushed the discharge summary aside.
Xiao Zhou pushed open the door, holding a CT scan in his hand, his face showing a look that said, “I think there’s a problem, but…”
A “OK” expression.
”Director Lin, the postoperative CT scan for patient 14 is in. Would you like to take a look?”
”Put it here.” Lin Jianguo took the film, held it up to the fluorescent light above his head, and squinted at it for a few seconds.
”Yes, the screw placement is fine, and the intervertebral disc height has recovered well. Are there any signs of compression of the dural sac?”
?”
”I don’t see it, but this spot—” Xiao Zhou leaned closer, pointing to a certain area on the film.
”There seems to be a slight blur here; I’m not sure if it’s an artifact.”
Lin Jianguo flipped the film over, looked at it for a few more seconds, and then put it down. “It’s an artifact. Titanium alloy screws.”
The metallic artifacts are normal. You see, the direction is aligned with the screw’s axis. If it were a true space-occupying lesion…
”If it changes, the density distribution will not be in this form.”
”Oh—” Xiao Zhou nodded repeatedly, as if suddenly understanding. “I understand, I understand, thank you, Director Lin.”
.
”Have you recorded the drainage volume for bed 14?”
”I understand. Six hours after the surgery, 120 ml of fluid was drained. The color was normal, and there were no signs of active bleeding.”
elephant.”
”Okay. Continue to observe tonight. If the traffic suddenly increases or the color darkens, call me immediately.”
”Okay, Director Lin.” Xiao Zhou turned to leave, then stopped, smiling somewhat embarrassedly.
”Director Lin, are you still on duty here tonight? I saw on the schedule that the shift ends at 8 a.m. tomorrow.”
”Yes, I’ll be here tonight. What’s up?”
”It’s nothing, it’s nothing. I just wanted to say you’ve worked so hard. Didn’t you just work two night shifts last week? And you’re already on another schedule this week.”
”Wouldn’t it be too tiring to do just one? How about I talk to the head nurse and I take your place next week?”
Lin Jianguo glanced at him, a slight smile playing on his lips. “No need, I’m fine. It’s just me at home.”
”Going back alone is pointless.”
This statement is false.
He wasn’t alone at home. His wife and son were there. But he said, “It’s just me at home.”
When speaking as “alone,” the tone is so natural, as if stating a fact, without any flaws.
”Alright, call me if you need anything.” Xiao Zhou tactfully withdrew and closed the door behind him.
The moment the door closed, Lin Jianguo’s polite, gentle, “good superior” expression vanished, as if…
A mask was removed, revealing the true face beneath—tired, empty, and with a hint of…
An inexplicable anxiety.
He leaned back in his chair, which creaked as it did so.
He took his cell phone out of the breast pocket of his white coat.
This is a Huawei Mate 60 Pro with a dark green vegan leather back cover that feels smooth and warm to the touch.
When he bought this phone, Gu Xueqing said to him, “Why would an orthopedic surgeon use a business flagship phone? Buy one with a good camera.”
”That’s fine, isn’t it?” He smiled but didn’t explain. He bought this phone not for taking pictures, nor for business purposes.
He bought it because of its large screen—6.82 inches, 2720×1260 resolution, L
TPO OLED screens offer extremely high color fidelity.
A large screen is very important when watching surveillance footage.
He unlocked his phone with his fingerprint, in 0.3 seconds. The apps on the desktop were neatly arranged—WeChat.
DingTalk, DXY.cn, CNKI, and Haodf.com—these are all things a normal doctor should have on their phone.
But hidden in a folder on the third screen is an app whose icon has been changed to resemble a calculator.
He clicked on the “calculator”.
Enter password: 197428. His wedding date with Gu Xueqing was April 28, 1997.
Using their wedding anniversary as a password, if his wife finds out, he can explain it away as, “I was afraid I’d forget our anniversary.”
day”.
The app loaded for two seconds, then the interface redirected. It’s not a calculator; it’s a home security monitoring system.
Remotely view the port.
Four split-screen views appeared on the screen, each labeled as follows:
CAM-01 Living Room
CAM-02 Restaurant
CAM-03 Second Floor Corridor
CAM-04 Backyard
All four feeds are real-time. In CAM-01, the living room is empty, and the cushions on the sofa are askew.
Leaning casually against the armrest—Lin Mo hadn’t put it back in its original place when he left. Inside CAM-02, the dining table was set with…
There was an empty fruit plate and a bottle of mineral water. Inside CAM-03, the second-floor corridor was quiet, and at the end of the corridor…
The door, adorned with a One Piece poster, was tightly shut. Inside CAM-04, the backyard pool shimmered with silvery light in the sunlight.
Like a light.
Gu Xueqing is not in any of the scenes. She should still be in the kitchen.
There are no security cameras installed in the kitchen.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hide it. It’s just that the kitchen’s layout made it difficult to conceal—Gu Xueqing would use several things in the kitchen when cooking.
Almost every corner, above wall cabinets, next to the range hood, on top of the refrigerator—these are common locations for hidden cameras.
She could run into any of those things. He couldn’t take that risk.
But the living room is an option. The living room camera is hidden behind a decorative painting above the TV cabinet—a Monet painting.
The replica of “Water Lilies” had a small hole, less than three millimeters in diameter, cut into the lower right corner of the frame for a pinhole camera.
The camera lens is embedded in that small hole. The angle has been carefully adjusted to cover eight-tenths of the entire living room.
Ten areas, including the sofa, coffee table, hallway leading to the kitchen, and—most importantly—the area accessible from the living room.
From that small section of the kitchen countertop that you can see.
He tapped the CAM-01 screen to full screen. Then he clicked the “Playback” button in the upper right corner.
The timeline popped up, and he used his thumb to drag the progress bar, rewinding to 2:15 PM.
The video begins to play.
The surveillance footage was surprisingly good—this wasn’t an ordinary home security camera, but one he had specifically sourced from…
I got a miniature high-definition device from a patient who does security engineering; it has 1080P resolution and 30 frames per second.
Seconds, night vision function, autofocus. That patient came in for knee replacement surgery and is recovering well.
When I went to the hospital, I insisted on giving him a banner of appreciation, but he said he didn’t need it, just help me get a few decent miniature cameras.
The patient assumed he wanted to install a home security system, so without saying a word, they gave him a top-of-the-line device and even helped him remotely.
The app has been debugged.
In the scene, Gu Xueqing walks into the living room from the direction of the kitchen.
Lin Jianguo’s breathing paused for a moment.
It wasn’t because I was nervous. It was because—she was so beautiful.
Even in 1080P surveillance footage, even from a fixed, slightly elevated overhead view…
From any angle, her beauty still possesses a breathtaking impact. A creamy white silk blouse, a grey pencil skirt…
She wore a dress, her long, black hair cascading over her shoulders, and walked barefoot on the living room’s hardwood floors. Her gait was elegant.
Naturally, the waist sways gently, and the hips sway rhythmically with each step.
His wife. His wife of twenty years. Thirty-nine years old, even more beautiful than when they first got married.
Time has not left any traces of aging on her; instead, she seems like a patient sculptor, spending twenty years…
In the meantime, she transformed a pure and innocent female college student into a stunningly beautiful and mature woman.
In the scene, Gu Xueqing walks to the sofa, bends down and picks up the remote control from the coffee table.
The moment she bent over, the hem of her gray pencil skirt stretched taut by the curve of her hips, the fabric…
A shallow indentation formed at the cleft of her buttocks, clearly outlining the contours of her two round and full buttocks.
The hem of the skirt slipped up slightly, revealing a small section of fair skin at the base of her thigh.
Lin Jianguo made a magnifying gesture on the screen with two fingers.
The image was magnified twice.
Her hips took up the entire screen.
Beneath the gray fabric, the shape of those two buttocks was cruelly clear—round, perky, and full.
It was so full it looked like it was about to burst. The fabric was stretched taut, and it shimmered slightly in the light.
The fabric has a certain texture; every fold points in the same direction—to the center of the hip seam. The skirt’s fabric is too thin, or…
The man said her hips were so full that, from certain angles, he could even vaguely see the outline of her underwear—
—A thin, horizontal line, cinches at the fullest part of the buttocks, dividing each lobe of flesh into two sections.
A bulging, rounded hemisphere.
He froze the image.
With his right thumb pressed the pause button, the image froze on the frame where Gu Xueqing bent over—her hips were at their fullest.
The frame where the skirt slides the highest and the top of the thighs is most exposed.
He stared at the image for a long time.
How long? He wasn’t sure himself. It could be thirty seconds, or it could be three minutes. During that time,
His eyes were fixed intently on the screen, his pupils slightly dilated, the reflection of the phone screen on the surface of his eyeballs.
A cold, white light.
He was waiting for a response.
A reaction from his body.
He removed his right hand from his phone and casually placed it on his thigh. His fingers, through his trousers…
I gently pressed the fabric against the crotch area of the pants.
There was nothing there.
It was soft there. Completely, utterly, lifelessly soft. Like a small ball of crumpled cotton, nestled…
At the bottom of the underwear, there was neither engorgement nor swelling, not even the slightest pulsation. (Seven)
Centimeters. Seven centimeters in a limp state. For five years, it’s been like a machine that’s been unplugged, no matter what it’s given…
It won’t activate no matter what signal it receives—visual, tactile, or olfactory.
He had tried everything.
Sildenafil. He’s a doctor, so prescribing it is a piece of cake for him. He took it for three months, 20 mg each time, and then…
Increased to 50 mg, then later to 100 mg—the maximum dose. The effect? Occasionally, it could achieve an erection of 10 cm.
It’s about a meter long, with a firmness of about 30%, like an overcooked noodle—soft and limp, unable to stand upright, let alone be inserted.
Yes. The side effects were quite obvious—headache, facial flushing, nasal congestion, and visual disturbances; once, I even had trouble seeing anything.
The western capital was glowing blue, which frightened him so much that he thought he was going blind.
I also tried tadalafil. I also tried Cialis, a low-dose regimen of 5 mg daily. After two months, the effect was better than…
Sildenafil is still insufficient.
He even had an intracavernosal injection—prostaglandin E1—injected directly into the corpora cavernosa. (Needle insertion)
The moment he entered, he was in so much pain he almost jumped off the examination table, but his penis was indeed erect, and quite firm.
About 70-80%. He excitedly went home, eager for a long-awaited sexual encounter with his wife. And what happened? He undressed…
Looking at his wife lying on the bed, his penis, which had been forcibly erect with medication, went limp within thirty seconds.
It’s not that the medication has failed. It’s that there’s something wrong with his brain.
He knew. He was a doctor, and he knew his diagnosis better than anyone else—psychogenic erectile dysfunction.
It’s not a problem with blood vessels, nerves, or hormones. It’s that his brain refuses to send signals to the penis.
Sending signals for an erection. Or more precisely—his brain only sends that signal in response to specific stimuli.
Signal.
That “specific stimulus” is his biggest secret in his life.
He glanced down at his crotch again.
It’s still soft.
On the screen, his wife—the woman widely recognized as the most beautiful professor at Bincheng University, the one who possesses…
A stunningly beautiful woman with G-cup breasts and a peach-shaped buttocks—was bending over in an extremely sexy pose, her hips…
The curves are so full they seem to overflow from the screen.
His penis, however, showed no reaction.
”Useless,” he said to himself. His voice was soft and calm, as if stating something he had already…
I’ve accepted this fact for a long time.
He stopped pressing on his crotch. It was pointless.
But he did not turn off the surveillance camera.
His finger slid across the screen, canceling the pause and resuming playback. Gu Xueqing straightened up.
She sat on the sofa for a while with the remote control, flipping through a few channels, then stood up and walked towards the kitchen. She stepped out of the painting…
As she finished speaking, her hips swayed slightly, and the hem of her skirt drew a small arc at the top of her thighs.
He fast forwarded.
The time on the screen jumped to 2:40 PM. Gu Xueqing came out of the kitchen again, this time carrying…
Holding a white porcelain bowl, she was probably tasting the pork rib soup. She stood at the entrance to the hallway between the living room and kitchen, head bowed, drinking.
He took a sip of soup, then frowned, as if he felt the taste wasn’t quite right, and turned back to the kitchen.
He continued fast forward.
At 2:55 PM, Gu Xueqing reappeared in the living room scene, this time walking towards the refrigerator—the refrigerator…
Next to the partition cabinet between the living room and the kitchen, right in CAM-01’s shooting range, she pulled open the ice…
He bent down and peered inside the box.
Bending over again.
Lin Jianguo pressed pause again.
This angle is better than the last one. The camera is positioned higher, with a downward angle of about thirty degrees.
Just the right shot to capture the view that peeks out from the collar of her shirt as she bends over—the collar of her cream-colored silk shirt.
Her mouth opened slightly as she bent over, and her two large breasts, supported by a lace bra, were pressed together, forming…
A deep cleavage, almost bottomless, appeared. Her breasts, white and smooth as cream, were compressed by the shirt and bra.
It bulged out into two full hemispheres, like two white peaches stuffed into a container that was too small, soft…
The pulp overflowed from the edge of the container.
He zoomed in on the image.
Two fingers, pinched together, then unfolded. The image on the screen was magnified three times.
The details of the cleavage were shockingly clear. He could see the fine pores on the breasts, and even the skin beneath.
The faint blue veins peeking through revealed the shallow lines formed by the edge of the lace bra digging into the soft flesh of the breasts.
Faint indentations. The bra is light purple, a demi-cup style, supporting only the lower half of the breasts, while the upper half…
Her breasts were completely exposed under the shirt, so full they almost spilled out from the top edge of her bra.
He stared at the image, his lips slightly pursed.
There was still no reaction in his crotch.
But his heart started racing.
It wasn’t the physiological excitement of an erection—an excitement he hadn’t experienced in five years. This was something else.
A kind of excitement. A more subtle, deeper excitement, independent of penile engorgement. It doesn’t occur in him.
It didn’t happen in his lower body, but rather in his chest cavity—his heart felt as if it had been gently squeezed by an invisible hand.
The heart rate increased from seventy-two beats per minute to over eighty. Breathing became shallow and rapid, with air entering through the nose.
The cold air from the air conditioner had a slightly metallic smell.
He was very familiar with this kind of excitement.
It first appeared a year ago.
That night, around 2 a.m., he was sleepless in this duty room. He scrolled through the news and his friends’ messages on his phone.
After scrolling through his WeChat Moments and academic posts on DXY.cn, he was bored out of his mind, so he opened his browser and searched in the search bar.
He entered a word he had never searched before.
What to do about a wife’s sexual needs when her husband is impotent?
The search results included medical science articles, advertisements for psychological counseling, and relationship Q&A from Zhihu (a Chinese Q&A website). He searched for each one…
He read through the list, growing increasingly frustrated and desperate. The answers weren’t teaching him how to treat it (he’d already tried).
(It’s useless), it’s just advising him to “communicate honestly” (communicate about what? Tell his wife “I can’t do it anymore, you have to figure it out yourself”).
(Is this “law”?), or some self-righteous moralizing—”Sex isn’t everything in marriage”?
The most important thing between husband and wife is spiritual communication.
”Bullshit,” he remembered cursing in his mind at the time.
He knew Gu Xueqing too well. Twenty years of marriage; he knew what kind of woman she was better than anyone else.
She appeared dignified and intellectual, never bringing up the topic of sex, even in situations where their sex life was normal.
Over the years, she never asked him to do it herself—he always spoke first, and she would nod with a blush on her face.
But he knew that her passivity didn’t mean she didn’t desire it. Quite the opposite.
Her body was too honest.
He remembered their sex life when they were young. Back then, he wasn’t impotent, although his size wasn’t large (for erections).
It was only about 13 or 14 centimeters long, but its hardness and stamina were decent. Each time he entered her, her…
The reactions were astonishing—the vagina would contract violently, like a hungry mouth desperately swallowing; vaginal fluids would…
Excessive secretions, so much so that they overflowed from the point of intercourse, soaking a large area of the sheets; her moans would change from the initial pressure…
She became increasingly unrestrained, until she was almost screaming. During her orgasm, her whole body would convulse violently.
She clamped her legs around his waist, her nails digging into his back, repeatedly shouting, “Don’t stop,” “Deeper.”
”Exerting force” —
He still remembers those sounds perfectly.
That was the sound made by a woman with an extremely strong sex drive when she was being satisfied.
He hadn’t made her make that sound for five years.
Five years.
He couldn’t bear to think about how she had managed for the past five years. He knew she masturbated—several times he had woken up in the middle of the night and heard…
She began to breathe very faintly, almost inaudibly, from under the covers, and a hand was there.
It was moving slowly and rhythmically. He pretended not to be awake, lying beside it with his eyes closed, his heart pounding. He knew…
Her fingers were too thin and short to reach that deepest, most sensitive spot. He knew she was using a method destined…
She tries to satisfy herself in ways that cannot be satisfied by others. He knows that after each time she finishes masturbating, she turns over and faces away from him.
He looked at him, his shoulders trembling slightly—he wasn’t sure if it was the afterglow of an orgasm or suppressed sobs.
Those nights, he lay beside her, staring at the ceiling, wishing he could cut off his useless thing.
Come and throw it away.
Let’s go back to that late night a year ago.
He scrolled deeper and deeper through the search results, and somehow clicked into a forum. A forum he had never been to before.
I’ve heard of forums with a rough interface, tons of pop-up ads, and user avatars that are either beautiful women or various other things.
A series of indescribable images. He initially intended to close it, but the name of a section caught his attention—
”Green Hat Discussion Area”
He paused for a moment.
Green hat? What does that mean?
He clicked on it.
The posts inside shocked his worldview like never before.
The authors of those posts were all men, all married men, and they described in detail in the posts how they…
Witnessing one’s wife being raped by other men—some watched from the sidelines, some listened from the next room, and some…
They watched remotely via webcam. They described their wives being with other men in a frenzied, almost manic tone.
The way she climaxed—”She screamed ten times louder than when she was with me.” “Her cunt gripped that big cock.”
”She was completely captivated.” “She said she had never been fucked so good before.”
Lin Jianguo felt disgusted when he read the first post.
The nausea lessened when I read the second post.
The nausea disappeared when I read the third post.
When I saw the fourth post—
He sensed something was amiss.
Not in his crotch. That place was still dead. The strange thing was happening in his chest—his heart was racing, he was panting.
The breath deepened, and a warm, tingling sensation spread from his chest to his limbs. His fingers slid across the screen.
His speed increased rapidly, his eyes scanning quickly between the explicit text and the secretly taken photos, his pupils dilating.
Her lips were slightly parted.
His brain was doing something he had never allowed it to do—
It is replacing “wife” in the post with Gu Xueqing.
”She screamed ten times louder than when we were doing it”—Gu Xueqing’s face flashed into his mind, that…
Her exquisitely beautiful face was contorted with pleasure, her amber-colored almond-shaped eyes half-open, and her cherry-pink lips wide open.
He opened his mouth and let out a wild, frenzied groan that he hadn’t heard in five years—
”Her cunt swallowed that big cock so tightly”—the image of Gu Xueqing’s genitals flashed through his mind.
That tender area he had entered countless times was now being penetrated by a penis much larger, harder, and thicker than his own.
Multiple penises penetrated her, stretching her labia until they were as thin as cicada wings, and vaginal fluid gushed out from their point of contact—
”She said she had never been fucked so good before”—Gu Xueqing’s voice echoed in his mind.
A hoarse, trembling voice, choked with sobs, spoke words she would never say to him—
At that very moment.
There was a slight movement in his crotch.
He looked down, unable to believe his own feelings.
That thing that had been dead for five years swelled slightly inside my underwear. Not fully erect—far from it.
Yes—but it is indeed engorged. It went from seven centimeters to eight centimeters, maybe nine. The hardness is about 20%.
It’s still limp, but it’s getting bigger, harder, and trying to get erect.
For the first time in five years.
It wasn’t through medication, injections, or any external force. It was his brain that finally directed towards his penis.
It sent that long-awaited signal.
What triggered this signal was his fantasy of his wife being slept with by another man.
That night, in the duty room, he looked at the posts on the forum while fantasizing about Gu Xueqing being…
He watched the same man having sex, and masturbated intermittently for almost an hour. His penis never fully became erect.
Come on—it can reach a hardness of 50-60% at most, about 11 centimeters—but this is already the best it has been in five years.
He ejaculated. The amount of semen was very small, as thin as water, but he did ejaculate.
He did not feel pleasure at the moment of ejaculation.
He felt fear.
He realized what kind of person he was.
He’s a cuckold. A man who can only get an erection when fantasizing about his wife being with other men; a pathological condition.
A perverse and twisted form of cuckoldry.
In the months that followed, he tried to resist the discovery. He deleted his forum bookmarks and cleared…
Browsing through his browsing history, he told himself it was just an accident, a fleeting hormonal fluctuation. But his body wouldn’t…
He lies. Whenever he tries to act “normally”—looking at photos of his wife, recalling sexual encounters from his youth.
—When he tried to stimulate himself, that thing remained completely still. Only when “other” thoughts appeared in his mind…
It only reacts when shown images of “men having sex with her”.
Moreover, the more taboo the identity of this “other man” is, the stronger the reaction will be.
He tried to fantasize that his colleague was having sex with her—the reaction was so-so, only about 30-40% erection.
He tried to fantasize that a stranger was having sex with her—at least 40-50%.
He tried to imagine her as his superior, her student, or even a deliveryman—all roughly the same, about 50% or 60%.
.
Until one day, a thought struck him like lightning—
”What if it’s Lin Mo?”
”What if it were our son having sex with her?”
The instant this thought crossed his mind, his penis felt as if it had been electrocuted, suddenly springing from seven centimeters to ten.
At one centimeter, its hardness reached 70%—the highest record in five years.
He was startled by himself.
His hands were trembling, his jaw was chattering, and his stomach was churning. He rushed into the duty room’s restroom.
He gagged several times in front of the toilet, but nothing came up. Then he leaned against the sink and looked at himself in the mirror.
His face—pale, distorted, with red-rimmed eyes—whispered:
”You’re a pervert.”
The person in the mirror did not refute.
But his penis was still erect.
That night, driven by that thought, he ejaculated the most and most violently in five years.
Although the amount was still very small—about a third of what a normal man would get—the intensity and pleasure were unprecedented.
Never before. He ejaculated into the toilet; the semen was so thin it was almost transparent, and it spread silently across the water’s surface.
He squatted beside the toilet, his pants pulled down to his ankles, his hands covering his head, curled up like a wounded animal.
Wearing.
He held that position for a long time.
From then on, he could never go back.
——
Recalling this point, Lin Jianguo took a deep breath and turned his attention back to his phone screen.
He canceled the zoom, returned to normal zoom, and continued dragging the progress bar. The time jumped to 3 PM.
12:00.
Another person appeared in the picture.
Lin Mo.
His son stood up from the sofa, hugging a cushion tightly against his body. His upper body…
He leaned forward, his posture unnatural, as if deliberately using a cushion to cover something. He strode quickly across the living room and headed upstairs.
At the top of the stairs, his steps were hurried and stiff.
Lin Jianguo pressed pause.
He zoomed in twice, focusing on Lin Mo’s lower body.
The cushions blocked most of the view, but from the side, he could still see some clues—Lin Mo’s movements.
The athletic shorts created a noticeable bulge at the crotch area, and the bottom edge of the cushion didn’t completely cover it.
The lowest point of the rise. Judging from a doctor’s professional eye, the size and shape of that protrusion are definitely not normal.
Normal anatomical structures can cause this.
His son got an erection.
In the living room. After his mother bent down to get the ingredients.
Lin Jianguo stared at the frozen image, his expression unchanged. His face looked as if it had been carved out.
The stone was stiff, its lines rigid, its muscles still. But his eyes—those deep, wrinkled eyes—
—It flashed in the shadows.
Then, the corner of his mouth twitched.
Very slight. Very subtle. You wouldn’t notice it at all unless you were looking closely at his face. His mouth.
The corner was pulled upwards by about two millimeters, forming a shallow arc on the left cheek.
That’s not a smile. A smile is warm, kind, and heartfelt joy. This expression isn’t.
That expression is more like—
confirm.
It’s like confirmation after a hypothesis has been verified. It’s like a hunter setting a trap on the path his prey is sure to take.
The confirmation that comes when you come to check the trap the next morning and find fresh footprints.
”He’s attracted to her,” Lin Jianguo thought to himself. This sentence was devoid of any emotion, as bland as…
He was reading data from a test report. “My son had a sexual response to his mother.”
He zoomed the camera out a few seconds, watching Lin Mo disappear into the direction of the stairwell, clutching a cushion. Then he…
The scene cuts to CAM-03—the second-floor corridor. The time is 3:21 PM, and Lin Mo appears in the corridor…
In the corridor, he walked quickly to the door of his room, pushed it open, went in, and closed the door behind him.
Click.
The door closed.
There were no cameras in Lin Mo’s room.
This was a deliberate arrangement on his part. It wasn’t because he respected his son’s privacy—he was in his wife’s bedroom and bathroom…
He’s long since lost all respect for the concept of privacy since they’ve all installed cameras—it’s simply because he doesn’t need to be around to protect his children.
He knew what an eighteen-year-old boy would do after returning to his room and locking the door.
No. He doesn’t need to see it with his own eyes.
All he needed to know was that his son had gone back to his room because he had seen his mother.
That’s enough.
He turned off the monitoring app.
The phone screen returned to the home screen. A red “1” appeared in the upper right corner of the WeChat icon, indicating an unread message.
He opened the message—it was from Gu Xueqing.
”Jianguo, what time will you be back tonight? The pork rib soup is ready, I saved you a bowl.”
He stared at the message, his thumb hovering over the keyboard for a few seconds.
Then he typed back: “I won’t be back tonight, there’s an emergency that might require an extra surgery. You and Xiao Mo eat first.”
.
That’s fake. There are no emergencies or extra surgeries tonight. He just doesn’t want to go home. Or more accurately…
He said he needed to be alone. He needed time to process what he had just seen on the surveillance footage.
And the ripples those things stirred in his mind.
Gu Xueqing quickly replied: “Working overtime again? Didn’t you just work two night shifts last week? Take care of yourself.”
ah.”
”It’s okay, I’m used to it. You should get some rest.”
”Okay. By the way, Xiao Mo is doing his homework in his room. I’ll bring him a glass of milk later.”
When Lin Jianguo saw the words “send a glass of milk upstairs,” a picture flashed through his mind—Gu…
Xueqing knocked on Lin Mo’s door with a glass of milk. Lin Mo opened the door, and she went in, standing beside his desk and bending down.
Put the milk on the table.
When she bends over, her shirt collar opens.
Lin Mo’s gaze would involuntarily fall on that deep cleavage.
His heart started racing again.
He typed those two words, “Don’t go.” and then deleted them.
He retyped: “Let him come down and get it himself. You’ve been working hard all afternoon, take a break.”
”Okay, whatever you say.” Gu Xueqing sent a smiley face emoji.
Lin Jianguo put down his phone and leaned back in his chair.
The swivel chair emitted a long creak, like a sigh.
He closed his eyes.
The duty room was quiet. The only sounds were the hum of the air conditioner, the occasional footsteps of nurses in the corridor, and the distant ward…
The coughing of a patient in the room—these sounds were automatically filtered out by his brain, becoming a blur.
Blurred white noise.
Enveloped in this white noise, his brain began to work.
It wasn’t conscious thinking. It wasn’t the kind of proactive thinking that goes, “I need to come up with a plan.” It was more of a…
The underlying, more primitive, almost instinctive cognitive activity—like a computer running automatically in the background.
A program that starts automatically without the user clicking any buttons.
The fragments of the scene were pieced together in his mind.
Gu Xueqing’s taut buttocks when she bends over.
Lin Mo was in a disheveled state, clutching a pillow to cover his groin.
Gu Xueqing’s cleavage was revealed at the collar of her shirt.
Lin Mo’s door was tightly closed.
Gu Xueqing’s suppressed panting as she masturbated in bed late at night.
The exaggerated bulge that was pushed out of Lin Mo’s athletic shorts.
These fragments, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, slowly and irresistibly drew closer to each other in the darkness of his mind.
The gaps between them are narrowing, the outlines are merging, and a complete picture is gradually taking shape—although this
The carving is still blurry and the whole picture is not yet clear, but its basic composition is already vaguely discernible.
A woman who had been thirsty for five years.
A vigorous young man.
They are a mother and son.
They lived under the same roof.
And he—the husband and father who should have protected all of this—was not home.
I’m often not home.
They can be away from home more often.
The idea was still very vague. Like a shadow shrouded in thick fog, its shape was indistinct and its name unknown.
Words. It wasn’t a plan, not even an idea. It was just a…possibility. A possibility in his mind.
A possibility that is quietly sprouting in the depths of the sea, a possibility that he himself is not yet aware of.
But it’s already there.
Like a seed buried in the soil. It doesn’t need sunlight, it doesn’t need watering. It just needs time.
Lin Jianguo had his eyes closed, and the faint smile at the corner of his mouth had not completely disappeared.
The air conditioner in the duty room hummed, and cold air blew out of the vents, brushing against his face. His breathing…
My heartbeat gradually calmed down and returned to a normal frequency.
But his brain didn’t stop.
That vague thought slowly swirled deep within his consciousness, like a planet orbiting an unseen planet.
The movement of stars—silent, slow, but irreversible.