On those long, slender, white legs, the faint outline of tight stockings is still visible. Her fingers unconsciously trace the lines on her legs, as if trying to erase the humiliation, but she can't. Her eyes are filled with struggle and pain, tears sliding down her cheeks and landing on the back of her hand.
On the table sits a glass of red wine, empty. Xia Ling picks up the glass, tilts her head back, and drinks the last drop, then pours herself another.
Her fingers gently trace the rim of the glass, her gaze falling on the scattered old photographs on the table—photos of her and her father in their youth. They smile so brightly in the photos, the background being their old small textile workshop—the Chenguang Garment Factory.
"I'm sorry...husband..." Mom's voice was barely audible as she murmured, tears welling up again. "If I could have stopped it back then...Zhang Ming wouldn't have died...and none of this would have happened..."
Her voice grew increasingly choked, until finally she collapsed onto the table, sobbing uncontrollably. Her shoulders trembled violently, her fingers clutching the old photograph as if grasping at a last straw.
I stood outside the door, listening to Mom's cries, my heart aching as if being torn apart. My usually strong and decisive mother was now like a helpless child, bearing all the pain alone. And I, her son, could do nothing.
I hated myself for being so weak, for not being able to protect Mom, for being able to only watch helplessly as she suffered such humiliation.
I wanted to push the door open, to hug Mom, to tell her I would protect her, that I would never let her suffer like this again. But my hand touched the doorknob, and then I stopped. I didn't know how to face her, how to comfort her, or even how to face Wang Xiong.
Even Xia Ling had fallen for Wang Xiong's tricks. What could I, who had been bullied by him for so long, do?
In the end, I silently turned and went back to my room.
...
Back in bed, I still tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
The image of Xia Ling's long, beautiful legs, encased in grey stockings, trembling slightly in her high heels; Wang Xiong's unbridled gaze; and Xia Ling's cold, suppressed humiliation… all of this pierced my heart like thorns, making sleep impossible.
I don't know how much time passed, but finally, I decided to go check on Xia Ling again.
The study door was still ajar, a dim light filtering through. I gently pushed it open and saw Xia Ling slumped over her desk, seemingly asleep.
Several old photographs lay scattered on the desk, next to a bottle of red wine, the liquid reduced to a thin layer, indicating she had drunk quite a bit.
Xia Ling's face was resting on her arm, her delicate makeup slightly disheveled in the light, tear tracks still clinging to the corners of her eyes. She was still wearing that silk nightgown, the soft fabric clinging to her slender body, outlining her elegant curves.
However, my gaze was quickly drawn to her legs—legs that had been bare just moments before were now covered in a thin layer of black stockings!
Her legs appeared even longer in the black stockings, gleaming slightly under the light. She wasn't wearing shoes, and her bare toes, clad in black stockings, were slightly curled, as if still harboring some unease.
A sharp pain shot through me. Why would Mom suddenly wear black stockings?
Was it because the humiliation she had just experienced made her feel cold, or was it because…? I dared not think any further.
Just then, the phone screen on the table suddenly lit up.
I glanced at it instinctively. It was a WeChat message, the contact name clearly read "Dear Xiong Ge!"
My heart sank. I was so tense I could barely breathe. It was Wang Xiong!
I looked at Xia Ling, slumped on the table, drunk. Her breathing was steady; she was clearly fast asleep. I hesitated for a moment, then finally reached for the phone.
Xia Ling's phone password was a combination of my and her birthday numbers. I easily unlocked the screen, and a message popped up on WeChat that made me feel nauseous—
"Aunt Xia, your black stockings are really nice tonight. I haven't had enough of looking at your legs yet."
My hands trembled as I opened the chat history. The more I read, the angrier and more humiliated I felt.
Wang Xiong: "Aunt Xia, you behaved very well at dinner tonight. Our future cooperation will definitely be very pleasant."
Mother: "What exactly do you want?"
Wang Xiong: "Don't rush me. I just like your temperament, elegant and aloof, especially your legs, tsk tsk, they're absolutely gorgeous."
Mother: "..."
Wang Xiong: "By the way, since you took off your stockings and gave them to me, you must be bare-legged now, right? Send me a few pictures."
Mother: "Don't go too far."
Wang Xiong: "Too far? Aunt Xia, don't forget about Zhang Ming. You don't want Xiao Wei to lose his current life, do you?"
Then, several photos appeared in the chat history.
I clicked on it and, sure enough, it was a photo of Xia Ling's legs—her bare legs in slippers. The photo showed her legs posed at several different angles, clearly taken under duress.
Wang Xiong: "Not bad, not bad, but bare legs get boring after a while. Aunt Xia, put on some black stockings and take a few more pictures. Black stockings really suit your style, so I can send them to my little brothers to show off, haha!"
Mother: "..."
Wang Xiong: "Still pretending to be aloof? Hurry up and take the picture, I'm waiting."
Then, another photo was sent. This time, Xia Ling's legs were covered in thin black stockings, still in those slippers. The photo was taken from above, and even through the photo, you could clearly feel the extreme silkiness of the stockings.
Wang Xiong: "Tsk tsk, black stockings really do have more appeal. Let's get a few more close-ups of her feet, take them off, stockings are the real essence."
Mom: "Don't go too far!"
Wang Xiong: "Too far? Aunt Xia, compared to what I did, you're the one who went too far! Zhang Ming was instigated by you two, he burned to death and you still have the charge of arson, without a single penny of compensation!"
The chat log ended abruptly there, clearly Mom had finally given in. I saw the last photo sent, a photo of Mom's black-stockinged feet, bare on the carpet, her toes slightly curled, looking helpless and humiliated.
…
I put down my phone, my palms already soaked with cold sweat.
The images from those photos kept flashing through my mind, Mom's elegant, beautiful legs, those small feet encased in black stockings, being humiliated by Wang Xiong in this way.
I looked up at Xia Ling, fast asleep, slumped over the table. Her face was still streaked with tears, her brow slightly furrowed, her long eyelashes trembling gently, as if she were still lost in some painful memory.
A sharp pain pierced my heart. I wanted to wake her, to tell her I knew everything, but my throat felt constricted, and I couldn't utter a word.
In the end, I could only silently put down my phone, gently cover Xia Ling with a shawl, and then turn and leave the study.
On my way back to my room, my heart was filled with guilt and self-reproach.
I hated Wang Xiong's despicable shamelessness, and even more so, I hated my own cowardice and incompetence. It all started that day. Xia Ling endured so much humiliation to protect me, and I could only watch helplessly as she bore it all alone.
I knew even more clearly in my heart that this was just the beginning.
Wang Xiong had gotten Xia Ling's used underwear tonight, tasted the pleasure of humiliating her—how could he possibly stop there?
The thought of facing that smug face at school tomorrow made me feel suffocated. I could even picture him holding Xia Ling's stockings, plotting his next move.
And I, besides silently weeping in the darkness, could do nothing.