Ch. 1: My Mother

Green Valley Village wasn't a city, though some called it that. It was a small settlement of about fifty wooden houses clustered together, home to 250 or 300 people. Tall bamboo groves and jagged mountains rose around it, casting shadows that dimmed the morning light. The air carried the scent of damp soil and rice paddies, mixed with the clatter of chickens and the distant shouts of villagers starting their work.

In the house, built of dark wood with a slanted roof, Zhang Wei opened his eyes. He rubbed them, groaning, and sat up in his wide bed, large enough for three. He glanced beside him. The straw mat was crumpled, the thin blanket shoved aside. Someone had slept there. A faint grin tugged at his lips as he slid out of bed and shuffled to the washroom, splashing cold water from a clay basin onto his face.

"I slept too long again," Zhang Wei muttered, wiping his face with a rough cloth. He pulled a loose black tunic and trousers from a wooden chest and put them on. In the cracked mirror, he saw his skinny frame--too skinny. His arms were like twigs, and his chest barely stretched the fabric. Born weak, his body had always betrayed him. The village healer said he wouldn't live past 25. Now, at 20, he had maybe a few years left. He wanted them to be good ones.

He ran a hand through his hair, scowling. "Why does it grow so damn fast? It's draining me." The black strands hung past his chin in front and draped over his ears. Every month, he shaved it nearly bald with a blade, but it shot back like wild grass. In the mirror, his plain face stared back--dark eyes, a sharp jaw, and pale skin that made him look half-dead. "No girl's ever going to want me," he grumbled.

The door creaked open. He turned. A woman stepped in, and his pulse quickened. Her name was Li Mei, his mother--not by blood, but by choice. She was 37, wife to the village master, Zhang Jian. Her long black hair flowed down her back like silk, brushing the swell of her hips. Her dark eyes gleamed with warmth, faint lines framing them from years of quiet strength.

She wore a tight red robe that clung to her slim waist and flared over her wide hips. The fabric stretched over her full, heavy breasts, the neckline dipping to reveal smooth, pale skin that begged to be touched. Her plump pink lips shone as she smiled, and her thick thighs pressed against the robe with each step, hinting at the softness underneath.

"Wei'er, breakfast is ready. Come downstairs," Li Mei said, her voice low and steady. She tilted her head, watching him.

Zhang Wei swallowed, his eyes flicking to her chest before darting up. "Yes, Mother. I'll be there," he said, managing a smile.

"Good. Your sister's already complaining about the food," she said with a small laugh. She turned, her hips swaying as she walked out, the robe hugging her backside in a way that made his throat dry.

Zhang Wei followed, his heart pounding. He loved Li Mei--not just as a mother, but as a woman. His real mother, one of Zhang Jian's wives, had died giving birth to him. Li Mei, who'd been a casual fling for the village master, took him in.

Zhang Jian had fucked her a few times, got her pregnant, and then tossed her aside when she bore him a daughter instead of a warrior son. After that, he lost all interest, banishing her to this small house at the village's edge with Zhang Wei and the baby girl, Zhang Xiu. His father's harem was bursting with wives and dozens of children--strong sons and daughters he could marry off. Zhang Wei, weak and useless, didn't matter to him.

"Mother, did Father send anything today?" Zhang Wei asked as they reached the bottom of the creaky stairs. The main room smelled of steamed rice and dried fish.

Li Mei shook her head, setting a bamboo tray on the low table. "No, Wei'er. He's too busy with his wives and the harvest. We're nothing to him now." Her voice was flat, but her lips pressed tight.

Zhang Wei nodded. So since they were abandoned by father, then it wouldn't be problem if he did something to his mother.

After settling on a cushion beside his sister. Zhang Xiu, 18 now, scowled at her bowl. "This porridge is thin as water! Can't we get something better?" she snapped, flicking her long black braid over her shoulder.

"Eat what's here, Xiu'er," Li Mei said, sitting across from them. "The good stuff goes to your father's warriors, not us."

Zhang Wei watched Li Mei as she served the meal. Her robe pulled tight across her chest as she leaned forward, her breasts straining the fabric. He imagined running his hands over them, feeling their weight. He'd felt this way since he was 18, when he'd caught her.

He still remembered that day, every detailed.

4 years ago.

It was midnight, Zhang Wei, 18 then, couldn't sleep. His weak body ached from lying still too long, and his mind wouldn't settle. He slid off the wide bed he shared with Li Mei and Zhang Xiu, careful not to wake his sister, who snored softly under the thin blanket.

Li Mei wasn't there. The mat beside him was empty, her spot cool. She'd slipped out earlier, saying she needed air, but that was hours ago. Curious, he padded barefoot across the creaky floor, his loose trousers brushing his legs, and stepped into the narrow hall.

A faint sound stopped him--a low, breathy moan drifting from the back of the house. His pulse quickened. He knew that voice. It was Li Mei. He crept forward, the wooden boards cool under his feet, until he reached the small washroom at the rear. The sliding door was cracked open, just an inch, enough for moonlight to spill through and light the scene inside.

There she was--Li Mei, alone on the straw mat that lined the washroom floor. She sat with her back against the wall, her legs spread wide. Her fading grey robe, was hiked up to her hips, bunched around her waist. The fabric gaped open at the front, untied and pulled apart, exposing her full, heavy breasts.

They hung free, pale and round, the dark nipples hard and jutting out in the cool air. Sweat glistened on her skin, trailing down her neck and pooling in the deep valley between her tits. Her long black hair stuck to her shoulders, messy from her movements, and her dark eyes were half-closed, lips parted as she panted.

Her right hand was buried between her thighs, fingers working fast. She'd pushed her undercloth aside--a thin strip of silk now twisted and soaked--revealing the slick, swollen folds of her pussy.

Her fingers slid in and out, two at first, then three, stretching herself as she pumped them deep. Wet sounds filled the room, loud and sloppy, mixing with the ragged gasps spilling from her mouth. Her left hand gripped one breast, squeezing hard, her thumb rubbing circles over the nipple. She pinched it, tugging until a sharp whimper broke free, her hips bucking up to meet her hand.

"Oh... Wei'er..." she moaned, her voice thick and desperate. His name rolled off her tongue, low and drawn out, sending a jolt through Zhang Wei's gut. She didn't know he was there, didn't see him peering through the gap, but she was thinking of him. Her head tilted back against the wall, throat bared, as another moan ripped out--louder this time, raw and needy. "Wei'er... yes... touch me..."

Her fingers sped up, plunging deeper, her palm slapping against her wet flesh. Juices dripped down her thighs, pooling on the mat beneath her, staining it dark.

Her pussy glistened in the moonlight, pink and puffy, the lips spread wide around her thrusting fingers. She rocked her hips, grinding against her hand, chasing something hard. Her breasts bounced with each movement, heavy and full, the nipples red from her rough handling. Sweat coated her chest, her belly, her thighs--every inch of her glowed with it, slick and hot.

Zhang Wei's breath hitched. His trousers tightened as his cock stiffened, pressing painfully against the fabric. He didn't think--just slid a hand down, fumbling with the tie, and freed himself. His dick sprang out, hard and throbbing, already leaking at the tip. He gripped it, stroking fast, his eyes locked on Li Mei. He stayed quiet, biting his lip to stifle any sound, but he couldn't look away.

Li Mei's moans grew sharper, more frantic. "Wei'er... harder... please..." she gasped, her voice breaking. She shoved her fingers in deep, curling them, and her whole body tensed. Her thighs trembled, muscles clenching as she fucked herself faster. Her left hand abandoned her breast, sliding down to rub her clit--fast, tight circles that made her cry out. "Ahh--Wei'er!" The sound was loud.

Her pussy clenched around her fingers, slick and pulsing, as she came. Juices gushed out, soaking her hand, her thighs, the mat. She kept going, riding it out, her hips jerking wildly. Her breasts heaved with each shuddering breath, nipples stiff and dark against her pale skin. Her face twisted--eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, pink lips wet with spit. "Wei'er... oh... yes..." she whimpered, softer now, her body slowing as the waves faded.

Zhang Wei's hand moved faster, his cock slick with precum. He watched her slump back, chest rising and falling, her fingers still buried inside her dripping pussy. She pulled them out slowly, strings of wetness stretching between her hand and her swollen folds. She brought them to her lips, licking them clean, her tongue sliding over each digit as she sighed his name again--"Wei'er..."--so quiet he barely heard it.

That broke him. His balls tightened, and he came hard, spilling into his hand, hot and thick. He clenched his jaw, swallowing a groan, his knees shaking as he braced against the wall. His cum dripped onto the floor, but he didn't care. His eyes stayed on her--Li Mei, panting, half-naked, her robe crumpled around her, thighs spread and glistening.

She didn't move for a long moment, just sat there, catching her breath. Her breasts rose and fell, sweat trickling down her skin, pooling in the dip of her navel. Her pussy stayed exposed, red and wet, the undercloth shoved aside. Finally, she tugged the robe closed, tying it loosely, and stood. Her legs wobbled as she smoothed her hair, oblivious to the eyes on her.

Zhang Wei also slipped away after he wipe his cum on the floor.

--- Present

She hadn't slept with Zhang Jian since Zhang Xiu's birth. Left alone all these years, maybe she wanted him too.

"Mother, that robe looks good on you," Zhang Wei said, keeping his voice even.

Li Mei glanced at him, her full lips curving. "Thank you, Wei'er. I wore it for you and Xiu'er. This house needs some color." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers slim and graceful.

Zhang Xiu smirked. "You should wear red all the time, Mother. Beats those dull gray rags."

"Maybe I will," Li Mei said, winking at her daughter. She turned to Zhang Wei. "What about you, Wei'er? What's your plan today?"

"Just staying with you and Xiu," he said, grabbing his spoon. "That's enough for me."

Li Mei's eyes softened. "Then we'll make it a good day. After breakfast, we'll go to the stream. The water's cold, and the air's clean."

Zhang Wei nodded, his mind buzzing. He wanted to stay close to her, to test if she felt what he did. Her body--those curves, that voice, the way her eyes lingered on him--lit something inside him. As they ate, he stole glances at her, the red robe hugging her hips, her breasts rising with each breath. He didn't care about his father or the village.

"Finish up, Wei'er," Li Mei said, catching his stare. "We've got a whole day ahead."

"Yes, Mother," he said, grinning. He shoveled the porridge down, ready to follow her anywhere.