A Son's Forbidden Gaze
Jiang Yuan Village was a fairly prosperous village. There weren't any standout scenic spots to speak of—nothing really fun or picturesque—but when it came to food, it had plenty to offer. All in all, it was just a comfortable, easy place to settle down. With over eight hundred households, it was home to a sizable population, by no means small.
A two-story building stood east of the village center. This was the Xu family two-story building, built by Xu Ruizhi's grandfather with the intention of using it as a wedding home for his parents. But after a tragic car accident, those plans fell through. Ten years ago, unable to accept the loss of his son, the old man had stubbornly cared for Xu Ruizhi alone for two or three years before falling gravely ill. He didn't pull through in the end and passed away.
Xu Ruizhi's grandmother, devastated by the consecutive deaths of her son and husband, followed suit two years later, her heart broken beyond repair.
And so, Yang Zhurou and her son Xu Ruizhi had been living in that house ever since, just the two of them.
After dinner, around nine o'clock, Xu Ruizhi and Yang Zhurou sat in the living room watching TV. Xu Ruizhi stole glances at his mother's stunning beauty. She was dressed in a soft pink-and-white nightgown, her long black hair cascading loosely around her shoulders. Her peach-blossom eyes were alluring and captivating, drawing him in like a spell, radiating an irresistible sensuality. Lower still, her chest was slightly exposed, revealing a deep, enticing cleavage. Through the thin fabric of her gown, he could even make out the faint outline of her full, snowy breasts, topped with cherry-like peaks that poked insistently against the material. It set Xu Ruizhi's blood racing.
No bra?! Xu Ruizhi's eyes went wide, nearly bulging out of his head.
His mind screamed: Mom! I'm not a little kid anymore—can't you be a bit more careful around me?!
But even as he thought it, there was no real displeasure in his heart. If anything, he felt a strange relief, even a thrill of joy. At least his mother wasn't treating him any differently now that he was older. Maybe she was just used to it.
His gaze drifted lower, to the beautiful legs peeking from beneath her nightgown—pale, slender, and flawless. One leg stretched out straight while the other curled up casually, an unstudied pose that only amplified their seductive charm.
Further down were her ankles, exquisitely delicate. Her feet were works of art: slim jade-like arches, toes pointed yet plump and rounded like pearls, glistening with perfection. The soles were smooth and unblemished, pale as fresh snow. Even someone who wasn't into feet like Xu Ruizhi found it hard to look away.
They're so beautiful, he thought to himself. No, I can't waste time. I have to make my move on Mom soon. All those divorced guys in the village—not to mention the single ones—are eyeing her. Sure, she had me out of wedlock, but she's still a catch. Mom never even got the marriage certificate with Dad, so technically, she's not divorced. And she's drop-dead gorgeous.
As for Xu Ruizhi himself? Just a half-grown kid, another mouth to feed for school. But most folks in the village could manage that. Besides, between his grandparents' savings and the compensation from the driver who caused the crash, they had at least a few hundred thousand yuan. Plus the two-story building—sure, it might end up his someday, but if he ended up with his mom, he couldn't just kick her out, right?
So yeah, calling Yang Zhurou a fair-skinned, rich, and beautiful woman wasn't far off.
For years, she'd been the ultimate prize for every bachelor in the village. Marry her, live frugally, and you'd never worry about money again.
Xu Ruizhi's eyes lingered on those two pert peaks straining against her chest, his thoughts wandering far away...
Yang Zhurou hadn't skipped the bra on purpose. Her breasts were just too full and high—lately, they'd felt even bigger. Thanks to an epidemic lockdown in the neighboring village, supplies hadn't come in for ten days or half a month; only food essentials were trickling through. People could go out, but the streets were empty except for those heading to work or school.
Over the past few days, her chest had swelled noticeably. At first, she'd dismissed it as imagination—secondary growth at her age was rare, and she wasn't pregnant. But after seven or eight days, they were undeniably fuller, pushing from a D to an E cup. Baffled, she'd gotten checked out; nothing wrong, the doctor had said, equally surprised.
Her old bras were too tight now, uncomfortable after just a day or two. So she'd ditched them for this nightgown. At first, she felt awkward—her son was growing up, after all. But soon enough, she relaxed. He was her precious boy; they'd been through so much together. What was there to be shy about?
Suddenly—
"I love you. Marry me." The cheesy idol drama on TV shattered Xu Ruizhi's reverie.
"Mom," Xu Ruizhi called out, snapping back to reality.
Yang Zhurou didn't react, eyes glued to the screen. Xu Ruizhi shook his head helplessly. It was her old quirk: when she got absorbed in something, the world faded away. You could shout through a megaphone, and she'd ignore it. Luckily, it only happened around him; otherwise, it'd be trouble.
A wicked, lecherous idea struck Xu Ruizhi.
He slid over beside her and quietly placed a hand on her pale, slender leg.
A sneaky glance—Mom hadn't noticed. Emboldened, he let his hand glide upward along her thigh, reaching the soft root where leg met hip. The skin felt cool and silky to the touch, plump yet firm, without a trace of excess fat.
By now, he wasn't scared of getting caught. She was lost in the TV; even calling her name wouldn't register.
His fingers caressed the sensitive spot gently. The nightgown dulled it slightly, but he could still feel the supple texture of her skin.
The drama was nearing its end; he'd pushed his luck enough. Any longer, and she might snap out of it.
Quickly, he withdrew his hand, called "Mom" again—no response. Waiting for his erection to subside, he finally stepped right in front of her, blocking the TV. With a hint of reproach in his voice, he said, "Mom, what's wrong with you? It's getting worse."
Yang Zhurou blinked back to awareness. "Single-thread brain syndrome," she explained softly. "When someone gets completely immersed in one thing, they tune out everything else about themselves." She continued, "Mine's especially severe. But I've stayed vigilant all these years. Around outsiders, I think like a normal person, so it doesn't impair my judgment."
Xu Ruizhi breathed a sigh of relief. He'd never heard of it before. Frowning, he asked, "Is there no cure?"
A flicker of complex emotion crossed Yang Zhurou's beautiful eyes. She sighed lightly. "Ruizhi, do you know what caused Mom's condition?"
He thought for a moment. "The car accident with Dad?"
She nodded. "Yes. In the days after your dad died, I was a wreck—unstable, exhausted, crying nonstop, washing my face with tears. It turned into depression. I even thought about suicide several times."
"What happened then?" Xu Ruizhi pressed.
"You saved me," Yang Zhurou said, gazing at him with a mix of maternal love and something deeper. She stroked his hair. "Your grandparents were looking after you those days. I was staring out the window in a daze, lost in fog." She paused, as if reliving it. "I remember one morning, they went to visit your dad's grave—it was the third day after. The first two, they'd been tied up with the police investigation. They were run ragged, but even after Aunt Song came by during the day to watch you and cook lunch for me, they'd drag themselves home at night to make dinner and comfort me while doing it."
Tears welled in her eyes, crystalline drops of gratitude and sorrow. Those two elders had spoiled her rotten.
She wiped her cheeks, took a deep breath, and went on. "That day, when Aunt Song was helping with dinner, my heart suddenly raced with panic. Then the door burst open—a boy rushed in, yelling that you'd fallen into a well. I bolted out without a thought. At the well, you were crying for Mama."
She inhaled sharply. "My mind exploded. I didn't hesitate—jumped right in, lifted you out, and saved you. Lucky the well was shallow and unused, or it could've been disastrous."
"And after?" Xu Ruizhi asked urgently.
"You were fine, just two years old and in shock from the scare. The doctor said rest would fix it."
Xu Ruizhi fell silent. He vaguely remembered, but hearing the full story from her lips hit hard.
"Then what?" he couldn't help asking.
Yang Zhurou gave a bitter smile. "After that, I couldn't bear leaving you with anyone else. Aunt Song had done great those days, but it left a scar. I couldn't let you out of my sight. Waking without seeing you panics me; half a day apart, and I feel sick—like when your dad first died. I don't know what I'd do if I lost sight of you for a whole day."
Xu Ruizhi's heart ached as he hugged her. "That's why you cried holding me that time I came home late?"
She nodded faintly, leaning on his shoulder with a smile. "I wonder what your future wife will think of a mother-in-law like me. She'd have to be crazy not to get jealous." She pinched his nose playfully, her eyes brimming with tenderness.
Xu Ruizhi grinned. "Then I won't get married. I'll stay with you forever."
Yang Zhurou shot him a coquettish glance and huffed. "You little rascal! You're barely a teenager—where'd you learn sweet talk like that?"
He laughed, genuinely amused at how she'd gone from tears to teasing in seconds. Shaking his head, he wrapped an arm around her slim waist, fingers tracing the soft curve gently. "I'm serious, Mom. I want to be with you every day. Okay?"
She smiled too, though her eyes reddened. "Silly boy, you're still too young. You can't say things like that."
Deep down, Yang Zhurou knew her son would one day start a family, leave her side. The thought of him with another woman twisted like a knife. It was selfish, twisted even, but she couldn't help it. She feared he'd forget her once married.
Seeing her pain, Xu Ruizhi ached to shout, I won't marry! The one I love is you!
But he held back. She wasn't ready for that confession. Better to cook the rice first, then lay it out—she couldn't object then. Saying it now would only torment her, make her wary, maybe even push her away.
To distract her, he changed the subject. "Mom, what about your depression...?"
Yang Zhurou composed herself with a smile. "It started fading after that day. But it left the single-thread syndrome as a side effect. Only shows up around you—normal with others."
"How did I even survive growing up with you like that?" Xu Ruizhi teased, grinning at her. He wanted to hear more.
Yang Zhurou looked at him warmly. "You forgot your grandparents? And even when symptoms hit around you, I never neglect you. Whenever you need me, I'm there. I always keep tabs on you." Her voice trembled at the end, her love for her precious son overflowing.
Somehow, she always sensed when he needed her. Her mind would fixate: My son needs me. Mystical, but real.
Xu Ruizhi hugged her tighter, a swirl of emotions—gratitude, pity, sorrow—flooding him.
He was truly blessed to have such a mother.
"Enough of the sad stuff," Yang Zhurou said, patting his arm with a laugh. "Why dwell on it today? I'm getting old, rambling about the past."
Xu Ruizhi chuckled inwardly: Old? You're gorgeous and young—don't let those fake-youthful aunties hear you.
They chatted a bit more before Yang Zhurou headed to bathe. Xu Ruizhi watched TV until she emerged.
His eyes widened. A white towel wrapped her body, barely containing her proud peaks. She moved with graceful allure, utterly seductive—especially those snowy jade feet padding softly, stirring endless fantasies. One look, and his blood boiled.
Yang Zhurou dried and blow-dried her hair, settling on the sofa. Xu Ruizhi swallowed hard. "I'm gonna shower," he mumbled, fleeing to the bathroom.