Chapter 4 Apologies For Dirtying Your Car

• My whole body trembled in pain.
• That night, he took the entire evening to prove not only his manhood, but also his competence.
• Apart from the momentary pain that made me shudder, I hardly felt anything throughout the rest of the process.
• I couldn't understand why people were so obsessed with doing this sort of thing, but I didn't dare ask.
• Not only didn't I ask, I had to pretend to enjoy it.
• I'd seen those types of films and heard my roommates talk about their experiences with their boyfriends, so I knew men didn't like it when women acted mute or lifeless during those moments.
• I mimicked the female lead from the films, first elongating an “Mmm” as if I was really enjoying it, then I matched his rhythm with sounds.
• I wasn't sure if it was my facial expression that gave it away or something else, but he saw right through me.
• “If you don't know how to make noise, don't. It's fake,” he said.
• So I stopped.
• My arms wrapped around his back, and his waist.
• His physique was truly impressive, with resilient skin and firm muscles.
• The more I touched him, the better his mood seemed to get.
• I don't remember if I eventually enjoyed it, but I do remember that as dawn broke, someone knocked on the window of our car.
• Later, he reached into the center console of his car, took out a small bag, and handed it to me. “This is for you,” he said.
• “What is it?” I opened the bag and was astonished.
• There were several stacks of cash!
• For some reason, a rush of heat surged to my head. I zipped up the bag and threw it at him.
• “You think I'm that kind of person?” A sudden sharp pain tore through my heart.
• If I hadn't liked him, well...
• He was taken aback.
• “I'm sorry.” When I heard him apologize, I was secretly pleased.
• I opened the car door and stepped out. Looking back at the bloodstain in his car, I said, “Sorry for messing up your car.”
• He chuckled and shook his head.
• “Will you look for me the next time you come for a drink?” I asked. For some reason, I found myself cherishing this fleeting, one-night connection.
• He froze, touched his lips as if still savoring it, and nodded while critiquing, “Your technique is terrible. You kiss like a dog gnawing on a bone.”
• “Hmph!” I snorted, but inside, I was already thinking about how to improve.
• Years later, when I looked back on this moment, I realized I must have looked like a very obedient student at that time.
• He nodded with a smile, and I left, satisfied.
• After getting out of the car, I found my legs weak and shaky, just like in the novels.
• Luckily, it was still early, and there weren't many people on the streets. I leaned against the wall, crossing a street before I finally made it to the road where my rented apartment was.
• I was fortunate not to take his money. Later, in the area where I lived, there were a series of major crimes—robberies and murders in homes.
• All the victims were women working in bars, saunas, or as hostesses.
• After that night, I took a few days off. The few thousand I'd earned was enough to cover rent and food.
• Most importantly, the semester had started, and I returned to campus.
• That year, I was in my third year at university.
• Many people knew I lived off-campus, but they didn't know what I did or anything about my family situation. I rarely interacted with them because I felt we were from two different worlds.
• Some of them came from well-off families, while others didn't have the best situations but still had someone supporting them, earning money to pay for their tuition and living expenses.
• I was different. No one took care of me.
• I had parents, but from a very young age, no one was there for me—or rather, no one wanted me.
• My parents got divorced when I was in elementary school.
• My dad had a fondness for alcohol. When he was drunk, he had a tendency to beat others. Once he sobered up, he would break down in tears, kneeling and begging for forgiveness.
• He used to beat both me and my mom. In an attempt to shield me, my mom often ended up being severely bruised and battered.
• My mom loved me.
• I was convinced that she loved me. Otherwise, why would she have used her own body to shield me from my dad's punches?
• It was because I believed so deeply in her love that I never understood why she didn't want me when divorced my dad when I was in sixth grade.