As it Happens

Chapter Tags: OC Ageplay MF Minor2 NoSex WIP

Right, so here I am going on about this gaokao, again. What I didn’t mention was the sheer fucking stupidity of this ‘high’ test. The futility of testing how much a student can remember rather than how good they are at reasoning or working out for themselves is the great lie of modern Chinese education.
These days, it’s more an instrument of torture and a way of controlling a population. I am certain that under democracy, the gaokao would disappear in a year. Fat chance, though. I’m depressed whenever I consider this 1950s educational relic.

But anyway, this set gears whirring and evil bubbling inside because I only get to date Ting once a week, the rest of the time, she’s at school, studying or sleeping. And when we meet, China’s security cameras follow us everywhere so I could never take her home. There are fifteen between the street corner and my apartment. Fucking fifteen—I counted them!

I’ve been chatting with Ting before she sleeps, asking about family, and she’s let certain things slip. So, last Saturday, I loaded myself up with books and met her at Starbucks with hers, and ‘studied’—a common sight. Except, we talked in whispers about her parents and their wish to leave China after Ting graduates (she’s an only child). They already own property shares in Melbourne. Ting’s English grammar is not accurate enough for a language major, so they are considering expensive cram schools.

So, this week, I’ve spent hours in government offices, having my certificates checked, chopped and rechecked, registering as a cram school. The final signature, safely secured from a guy wearing an expensive Armani suit, whose state salary is five hundred bucks a month, was the last hurdle. Finding the sweetener under the form he slid the bag into his draw like a champ.

Next week, I’m a registered tutor. The school must rent the apartment to be 100% legal. Song Fan will get free tuition and I’m off to visit Ting’s parents on the back of that. Smart or what?

Why does this girl drive me mad? I am struggling with this. All of this time I might have had uncomplicated mature sex with few strings attached. Sorry to burst a bubble here, but there’s a myth that Chinese girls are ‘easy’, they are not. You need to understand how they think (or are conditioned to) and be extra, super-sensitive to small details to win their trust before you even begin a relationship, leave alone become intimate; the face thing.
A guy that doesn’t carry their girl’s handbag when they are out is either disrespectful or married a long time. Get over it, no one here will titter and point at the gay clutching a bag.
At table, you serve your partner first and you keep dropping morsels into their bowl. You consider them and their needs all the time. In company, you must do this with extra precision. If meeting another couple for dinner, I try to outdo the other guy. Your girl wants to hear the other say how lucky she is to have you. If you lapse into bro-talk and guzzle beer, you’re stuffed. You need to stay just short of being what they call a ‘dog leg’ (no, I don’t know, either, but it implies amusing subservience).

These days, instead of enjoying myself in more normal ways, I am excited to hold a girl and kiss her the first time; I’ve regressed to a teenager.
I’m a teacher, I teach lots of young girls every day but I am never tempted. I speak the language, keep fit and don’t look my age (so I’m told); I should play the field. So why this girl? Is she a challenge, or am I excited living close to the edge? I have no clue, but at the moment Ting is my only love interest. Young girls hold no attraction and never have, I need to make that plain. How could I have lasted as a teacher all these years? It’s just Ting, so I wonder—is this love at first sight?

Jenny Hu was up for a date this week and I made a lame excuse about too many classes. She’s a separated lady of thirty-five, willing and adventurous in bed but I’m not interested.

Intimacy this week? We held hands in the taxi to the corner of Ting’s street and that’s it. I asked Ting not to send racy images over Weibo because of the monitoring—she will land us both in hot water. Instead, I’m working on her using my VPN account to get over the great firewall; she’s almost persuaded.

There comes a point in a relationship when you become certain of its destiny, we’ve arrived there now. The anticipation of being alone with Ting is killing me.

To be continued (as long as it lasts)