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Qiao Yue Uncle is a righteous person, only he cares about mistakes and taboos. I never do, because I only care about his beauty. Who says beauty is not a form of charity?
In the murky dusk, with a drizzle falling, I walk on the street, the ground flowing endlessly. The café I often go to, which also doubles as a bookstore: Qiao Yue sits on a high stool by the bar. Black is always more restrained than white, straight and slender, I walk over and instinctively embrace his waist, burying my head in his beautiful neck. Qiao Yue can't refuse me, soothing me with pats on my back, purifying my soul. It's too tiring to observe the world with a whole heart - I watch pedestrians, vehicles, and Qiao Yue can only watch me.
Sometimes, a cup of coffee in the morning brings me a faint scent of the past, as if the golden key of memory shines brighter with the passage of time. So many years later, I long for the past, longing for what we had—two free souls.
We always seemed to be out of sync, with me taking the lead and him always passive, compliant with all my absent-minded arrangements. In this corner café, the café I often visited, Qiao Yue sat on a high stool. I often picked up an old newspaper just to see Qiao Yue sitting there, reading about the passage of three thousand years, until the coffee grew cold and the waiter politely reminded me. I remained immersed in the silent autumn colors of black and white, while he had already left the bookstore without my notice.
I have said that I have never directly responded to Qiao Yue about the red silk underskirt. In fact, I gave him a lake tail ring, which is deep blue, clear, and very expensive. Before I maxed out his second card, this was the only gift from me to him. Qiao Yue always treasures it, unwilling to show it easily in public. Whenever there are important guests, he always takes out this ring and carefully polishes it with velvet. The ideal situation is for me to wear it, but the reality is that he always mistakenly puts it on the wrong ring finger.
This is a tail ring, dear uncle.
My youthful years and the beautiful uncle named Qiao Yue are tightly bound together, painful like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly, always forgetting its own DNA just like before. I'm used to Qiao Yue, he's so much like a beautiful but dull piece of wood, the ring trapping his freedom, forcing him to love his own brother's daughter endlessly.
At that time, he squatted on the ground, getting wet in the rain with me standing beside him, with a wall behind us. Qiao Yue's shirt was soaked through. And I was still wearing his coat. The night was so dark, the rain was like ink splattering. Suddenly, I felt the need to look up and gaze at my Qiao Yue - there was a breathtaking charm, so beautiful that it left me speechless. I compassionately leaned down, almost lovingly, and traced his closed lips with my fingertips, depicting his lip shape bit by bit. Qiao Yue grabbed my wrist, his eyes full of confusion and shock. Almost suddenly, without considering any consequences, I inserted my knuckles into his mouth. So soft, his tongue, wanting me to leave, but only weakly pushing and resisting my knuckles, so soft and sticky. Not daring to use his teeth, was he afraid of hurting me, willing to endure it himself? I was very confused, within the confusion, there was still a very subtle, deep touch. This was just my wishful thinking game, only my game, not Qiao Yue's.
But she's so beautiful, how could I get tired of looking at her?
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