“I swear, I absolutely won’t breathe a word of what you tell me, or may lightning strike me dead! Alright, spit it out.”
Yang Haoran made the vow, though inwardly he felt a twinge of curiosity. What could possibly embarrass him so much, and why would hearing it make him believe whatever came next?
His interest was piqued.
“Do you remember those files you shared with me? There was that cuckold mom series, right?” “Yeah, I thought you deleted it?” “I didn’t. In fact, I went out of my way to watch it.”
“Huh? For real? Well, no big deal—I skimmed a couple myself.”
“There’s something else. I mentioned before how I found out my mom writes smutty novels. That one called Bitch and Master? I don’t know if you’ve read it, but I did. Let’s pretend you haven’t, and I’ll fill you in.”
“I could tell the male lead was modeled after you, and the female lead after my mom. So yeah, I know she’s got a thing for you deep down, and she’s got masochistic tendencies—she likes… well, some things I can’t even say. Anyway, here’s the plot: the heroine’s a total masochist who loves being collared by the hero and treated like his bitch. There are all these scenes where he slips a collar on her and walks her around like a dog. And get this: my mom wrote it, using herself as the blueprint for the heroine and you for the hero.”
Yang Haoran was floored. Shiwen had read that book? But piecing it all together, what was Shiwen really getting at? Then he remembered the bit about not deleting those files—and actually watching the cuckold mom vids—and his heart lurched. No way, right? Shiwen didn’t seem like the type. Shen Qing’s face paled slightly too. Her son had figured it out. How was she supposed to look him in the eye now? And no wonder Haoran knew about her secret account—it had to be her own boy who spilled the beans. He must’ve read the book as well.
Shen Qing let out a sigh, her gaze complicated as it lingered on the phone clutched in Yang Haoran’s hand.
“Uh… and then?” Yang Haoran drew in a deep breath. A wild guess was forming in his mind, too outlandish to credit, but his heart hammered all the same. If it turned out to be true, it would humiliate him to no end—and he’d have no choice but to believe it.
“And then…” Even through the phone’s speaker, the hesitation was palpable, like a fishbone lodged in his throat. But at last, Shiwen forced the words out in the flattest tone he could muster.
“When I was reading that book, I pictured my mom as the heroine and you, Haoran, as the hero. That story… I… I loved it… Haah… And those cuckold mom videos you shared? I couldn’t get enough. Look, we’ve been buddies since we were kids—don’t make fun of me. I hate myself for it, but those thoughts… they get me so worked up. I can’t stop.”
“Shiwen… you… you’ve got a cuckold mom fetish? No… that can’t be…” Yang Haoran’s suspicions were confirmed, leaving him reeling in shock. Shiwen, with his sunny good looks, the golden boy in every teacher’s and classmate’s eyes—him? Shen Qing stood frozen, her turmoil deeper than anyone else’s. Her son, harboring that kind of twisted perversion.
But then again, wasn’t she just as bad? Shen Qing felt her strength ebb away, her eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling.
Karma, maybe.
A wry, self-mocking smile tugged at her lips.
“Mm.”
Shiwen’s face burned under Haoran’s stunned stare, shame crashing over him like a wave. Still, he clenched his jaw and murmured his assent.
It felt like cutting ties with his old self—or finally embracing the truth.
Yang Haoran sat there like a wooden statue, lost in heavy silence. What a mess. If he came clean right now—that he was the guy balls-deep in Shiwen’s mom—wouldn’t Shiwen explode in rage and come at him with a knife? No chance. He couldn’t let on it was him, not yet. But he couldn’t play along and “stop” Aunt Shen either. Stop himself? What a ridiculous joke.
He was well and truly stuck.
As Yang Haoran agonized over his next move, clarity returned to Shen Qing’s eyes. Whether she’d made peace with it or hatched a plan, she inhaled deeply, exhaled, and that familiar sultry smile curved her lips once more. Her elegant poise was back in full.
She’d never been one to crumble. She faced everything with grace.
This was no different.
“Little Ranran, hand me the phone.”
Aunt Shen’s husky voice sent a jolt through Yang Haoran’s ear.
The words hit like thunder, his mind reeling. He gaped at her in disbelief. Speak now? They were toast! “Wh—who… M-Mom… Mommy?”
Zhou Shiwen’s voice trembled from the phone, raw with incredulity.
“Mm, it’s me. I heard everything you said.”
Shen Qing sounded utterly calm.
“Mom… Mommy, how are you th-there… Wait, why’s Haoran with you?” Shiwen’s brain short-circuited. Mom had heard that? But she was supposed to be home—why was Haoran there too?
Powerless, Yang Haoran passed the phone to Shen Qing. Game over. What the hell was Aunt Shen thinking? Didn’t she get how bad this could get? “Mm, Little Ranran’s here too. It’s a long story—come on up.”
Shen Qing spoke steadily, no trace of panic in her demeanor. If anything, her lovely eyes gleamed with a calm Yang Haoran had never seen, leaving him slack-jawed.
“Mm… I’ll head up soon.”
After a beat of silence, Shiwen’s voice emerged, thick with complication.
Once Aunt Shen ended the call, Yang Haoran erupted. “Aunt Shen, what the hell? Why say anything? You know this screws me big time? How do I face Shiwen now?” Anger edged his words. She’d trussed him up and thrown him on the fire. He couldn’t fathom it. Aunt Shen wasn’t clueless about right and wrong—why pull this stunt now, of all times?
“Look at you, all freaked out… Hehe…” Instead of worry, Shen Qing giggled at his furious face.
“It’s this moment, and you’re laughing?” Yang Haoran was on the verge of losing it.
Seeing his distressed look, Shen Qing relented. “Pull out, get dressed. Follow my lead later, and you’ll be fine.”
She looked utterly at ease, like she had it all under control.
Yang Haoran cooled off a fraction. Freaking out wouldn’t help.
With a wet pop, he withdrew his now-limp cock and scrambled into his clothes.
