(A touching old story)
Sister Juan is actually my younger sister. She and I are twins. Three days after our birth, my parents gave my sister to Uncle Wang (a pseudonym) in our village. Uncle Wang had been married for six years without having children. At that time, our family was going through some difficulties. My grandmother passed away early, and my grandfather lived with my second uncle. It was very hard for my parents to take care of two children at the same time, so they decided to give my sister to this Uncle Wang. At first, I didn't know anything about it. My sister and I dated for three years. When my mom found out that Juan and I were dating, she was forced to tell me that we were actually brother and sister. My sister and I only live three kilometers apart. We were classmates during school. I don't know if it was heaven's will to torture us, or if we owed this debt from a previous life, but my sister and I had an exceptionally close relationship. We were very happy together, very in sync, and truly felt like kindred spirits.
Gradually, we grew up. I should say that our family's bloodline wasn't bad. My father is tall, and my mother is also handsome. By the time I graduated from junior high school, I had grown into a fairly handsome boy, and my sister had become a universally recognized beauty. At that time, my sister was taller than me. Since girls develop earlier, she was 163 cm, while I was only 159 cm. It was around this time that I began to understand some things about relationships between men and women. Watching my increasingly beautiful sister, I started to have some very strange feelings, even feelings I couldn't understand myself.
In high school, my sister and I attended the same school but were in different classes. By then, people in the school had already started dating. When my friends began discussing which beauties in the school were prettiest, which guys already had girlfriends, and which ones were already doing "that," I also began to experience the budding of love with my sister. My sister was clearly much more mature than me, probably because girls usually mature earlier than boys! At that time, my sister was unanimously considered the school flower. Since Uncle Wang's family conditions were relatively good, there were many people who liked her and had secret crushes on her. The bolder boys would even send love letters and flowers. At this time, I always had a strange feeling in my heart. In my eyes, the other female classmates basically didn't count for anything. But my sister was different—she mattered a lot to me, and I was afraid she would be taken away by someone else. Actually, at that time, I didn't know that she was my real sister; I only knew that I was very happy when I was with my sister. If I had known earlier, it would have been impossible for us to date.
There were several times when I asked my sister, "So many boys like you, do you like anyone else?" My sister would always look at me with wide eyes and then seriously say: "I don't like any of them. I like sunny, funny, athletic boys who can make me feel both happy and secure." Then she kissed me on the cheek. After evening study sessions, I would go play by the river with my sister. She would always grab my hand first; she was braver than me, probably because girls develop earlier. Later, when we went out to play, she would initiate kisses, and I would indulge in touching her a little, but we still didn't go all the way. I felt that my sister really treated me well. Thus, she accompanied me through my three years of high school.
Finally, it was time for the college entrance exam. Over the three years, my sister studied hard, and in the end, she was admitted to a key university, while I only got into an ordinary university in our city. During the summer break, I invited my sister over to my house to play. It was the first time she came to my home, and neither of my parents knew about our relationship. I told my mom that she was just one of my good classmates. During dinner, my mom asked where Sister Juan was from. Sister Juan said she was from a certain group in our village. Then Mom asked her father's name. After Sister Juan mentioned her father's name, my mom was stunned (actually, since giving my sister to Uncle Wang, my mom had never interacted with them, treating her as if she didn't have this daughter, also fearing that she might not respect her adoptive parents after finding out). Seeing my mom's unusual expression, she then took her bowl and went inside the house. Sister Juan also felt something strange, and we didn't enjoy the meal. The next day, Sister Juan and I were happily reading books, laughing, and playing around. My mom looked somewhat unhappy after seeing us. During dinner, Mom ate alone on the side, looking very troubled. Confused, I went over and asked what was wrong? Tears streamed down my mom's face. Actually, my mom's inner feelings were complex. She couldn't easily tell us about the adoption, but she also had no choice. Seeing how close Sister Juan and I were, she knew we must be in love. To prevent us from being hurt further, Mom revealed that Sister Juan was given to Uncle Wang on the third day after her birth. At that moment, it felt like a thunderclap on a clear day, the earth shook. All of us cried. Sister Juan felt abandoned by Mom, feeling sad for not experiencing the love of her biological parents. Reluctantly, Mom explained the situation back then. Sister Juan forgave our parents and called them "Mom" and "Dad" right then. From that point on, I felt that our romance was no longer possible.
When Sister Juan asked me to see her off at the train station for school, she burst into tears and hugged me tightly when boarding the train. At that moment, my heart was filled with sadness and conflict.
After starting university, I truly understood what freedom meant. Influenced by my drinking buddies, I grew up quickly. Basketball became unimportant to me, and thoughts of women occupied my mind. In the dormitory, every day boys would rent pornographic videos to watch, accelerating everyone's maturity.
Sister Juan and I would call each other once a week and write letters. We talked about almost everything. I would tell her everything I did at school, and she would share her experiences with me.
Finally, winter break was approaching, and on the day Sister Juan was coming home, she called me to meet her at the train station. When I saw her, I realized she had become even more beautiful and mature, exuding a womanly charm. Her body had also developed more fully since high school, possibly due to the relaxed atmosphere of university compared to high school. Sister Juan was very happy to see me and immediately threw herself into my arms. I was so excited, feeling something indescribable.
Winter break began! I called her to come over to my place. My parents knew she was my real sister now and liked her very much. Mothers everywhere cherish their children deeply. Sister Juan received many calls and always smiled sweetly while answering them. My heart was like water drawn from fifteen buckets—seven up and eight down. Worse yet, it seemed like she was trying to avoid me while answering calls. Finally, unable to bear it, I asked her: "Why do you get so many calls every day? Is it your boyfriend?" (Since learning that she was my real sister, both of us had begun to change.)
Sister Juan laughed and said: "What's it to you? Why are you so nosy?" Suddenly, I snapped and shouted at her: "Is it so great to have a boyfriend? Why do you hide to answer calls?" Sister Juan was startled and said half-heartedly: "What are you angry about? They're just my roommates. Boyfriend? Nonsense. Girls naturally want privacy when talking on the phone!" At that moment, I realized how insane I had become. I couldn't let her go, couldn't forget her, and cared too much about my sister.
During the New Year, I accompanied Sister Juan shopping for new clothes. As we walked, Sister Juan fell behind. She said I was walking too fast for her to keep up. I replied that there was nothing I could do about it, as I was used to this pace. Suddenly, Sister Juan linked her arm with mine and said: "This way, I won't fall behind." Let's go! My heart raced wildly, and my face turned red. Even though we knew we were siblings, we were still physically intimate. Sometimes, I even felt her chest brushing against my arm. I was a bit dizzy! But I couldn't let her know my thoughts; I thought I was too dirty, always thinking inappropriate things.
I bought a few new clothes for Sister Juan and myself. People on the street thought we were a couple because of how close we were. Actually, I was also confused about the relationship between Sister Juan and me. I could sense her affection for me was ambiguous, but I didn't dare to confront it. Moreover, I was unwilling to break the societal norms that bound us. After all, we were blood-related. Sometimes, having beautiful memories in our hearts was enough, and that's what I believed.
Until the May Day long holiday that year, I visited Sister Juan's school. We were both very happy to see each other. Sister Juan accompanied me around the streets. Once, while crossing the road, I unintentionally held her hand. Her hand was soft and smooth, as if it had no bones. I hesitated to let go and noticed her blushing...
That May Day, both of us spent a somewhat awkward day. In the evening, as we returned to her dormitory, at the door, Sister Juan suddenly called my name (since knowing we were siblings, she had changed how she addressed me). She called my name instead of "Brother." Just as I wondered why, I saw Sister Juan rush into my arms, hugging me tightly and saying quickly: "I like you, I can't forget you." Then she ran back to her dormitory like the wind. At that moment, my emotions could only be described as shocked, happy, and conflicted. I stayed awake all night. I didn't know how I should face her the next day. That night, I stayed at a classmate's house, who had gone home for the holidays.
I understood the meaning of her words. She called my name instead of "Brother." If I hadn't understood that, I'd be a fool. But I hesitated—I dared not accept such a love. I admired her courage for saying it out loud.
After tossing and turning all night without sleep, I finally decided to wait until I saw her again. The next day, when I arrived at her dormitory, as soon as I entered, she handed me a letter and ran off. I was momentarily stunned, standing there dumbly holding the letter. Then I went back to the room to read it. Upon opening the envelope, I found exactly nine pages, densely written. The letter recounted almost all the past events between Sister Juan and me—the first time we held hands, kissed, played by the river, exchanged gifts, etc. There were many things I had forgotten if not for this letter, but Sister Juan remembered each event clearly, including when and where they happened. Sister Juan wrote that I was the first boy she liked. Since high school, we had celebrated Valentine's Day together every year. Only then did I realize that Sister Juan couldn't forget me, that she liked me. After reading her letter, I began to feel as if my heart was bleeding, and my eyes became moist. I had always thought I was the most painful, but in fact, Sister Juan was a hundred times more pained than me.
After finishing the letter, I started calling Sister Juan's mobile phone, but it was always off. I felt like a drug addict craving a fix, unable to sit or stand comfortably. My whole body was restless. Finally, I waited for her in the room. She would have to come back to sleep eventually! Around ten o'clock at night, I finally saw Sister Juan return. I rushed to her and asked: "Where have you been? Why is your phone off? Don't you know I was worried about you?" Sister Juan said nothing, and tears streamed down her face. Seeing her cry made my heart ache as if pierced by a knife. I knew Sister Juan would be upset. I embraced her tightly, holding her in my arms. Sister Juan cried and said: "I'm so scared, scared that you'll think I'm shameless. I didn't dare to turn on my phone or return to the dormitory." At that moment, Sister Juan was crying like a teary-eyed doll. Slowly, I pushed her away and looked at her tear-streaked face. Finally, I mustered the courage to gently kiss away her tears. Sister Juan trembled all over in my arms, staring at me with wide eyes before slowly closing them. Thinking that it had come to this, I decided: if I die, so be it! I closed my eyes and kissed her. It tasted sweet, incredibly sweet.
That night, I took Sister Juan back to her classmate's small room. It was already late at night, and she fell asleep in my arms. I couldn't believe it—a real brother and sister were now sleeping together. Watching her sleep soundly, I lightly kissed her lips and then fell asleep myself. That night, we only kissed briefly, and nothing else happened. I woke up close to noon the next day, and Sister Juan was already up playing on the computer. Suddenly, I didn't know how to address her anymore, feeling embarrassed. After tidying up completely, I hugged her slim waist from behind and leaned my face toward her: "What are you playing?" Sister Juan responded softly and affectionately: "You're awake!" Her gentle tone was undoubtedly that of a girlfriend addressing her boyfriend, which was entirely different from how a sister spoke to her brother. Clearly, Sister Juan couldn't change, nor could she forget the past. For a moment, I was stunned because, since knowing she was my real sister, I had never intended to treat my real sister as my girlfriend. It felt like a nightmare.
Seeing me dazed, Sister Juan chuckled and kissed me on the cheek: "What's with the blank stare? Dummy!" I felt incredibly happy and said foolishly: "You're so beautiful." Sister Juan replied: "And you just realized that!" At that moment, I could barely control myself anymore, pulling her close to kiss her. This time was entirely different from the night before because I was rougher, less gentle. She could feel the changes in my body and tried to push me away, but I was like a madman. How could she resist with her smaller strength? Soon, her breathing became rapid, her chest rising and falling, her face flushed, her eyes glazed. Both of us had lost our minds.
Due to nervousness, I was a bit clumsy, but eventually managed to remove her clothes. At that moment, I stopped referring to her as my sister because, in that instant, I regarded her as the woman I loved most in my life, no longer as my sister. Growing up, it was the first time I had seen a woman's body, and my veins nearly burst. She struggled to cover herself with a blanket. For a moment, I didn't know what to do, unsure of the next steps, recalling all the pornographic films I had watched. She was indeed beautiful, with fair skin and a good figure. We fumbled and embraced without knowing what to do next.
Actually, those with experience know the difference between a virgin and a non-virgin—it's like the difference between a country lane and a highway. One is difficult to navigate, the other smooth sailing. I was a pure virgin with absolutely no experience, struggling to find the right direction, aimlessly wandering outside. After more than half an hour of struggle, we ultimately didn't consummate the act. It felt like fate. In that moment, I suddenly lost all interest. I ended all the actions and lay quietly beside her. Seeing me like this, she softly asked: "What's wrong?"
I replied listlessly: "Sister! What we're doing is incestuous!" Then I fell silent, unwilling to speak further. I knew historically there were no cases of siblings marrying, and although I knew our love hadn't harmed anyone else, it was something society couldn't accept. We wouldn't have a future. At that