After dinner, we strolled around for a while before heading home. Along the way, my wife didn't bring up the "escort" matter again. The atmosphere between us became a bit awkward, like a couple just starting to date or a husband and wife about to separate peacefully. I suggested we go watch a movie, and she readily agreed. We sat in a corner of the theater; she leaned against me, holding my hand without saying a word. I could feel she was somewhat distracted, and the evil fire in my heart was slowly extinguishing. After the movie, we got back to the rental apartment close to midnight. My wife came out of the bathroom with a flushed face after her shower. She was wearing a rose-red silk slip nightdress, the hem so short it barely covered her butt. Though simple in style, the dress was expensive—it was a gift from her ex-boyfriend. Back then, she had worn it and been fucked by him countless times. Later, when we started dating, she wanted to throw it away, but I stopped her. I also liked her wearing this dress to have sex with me. When things got intense, I could hardly tell if I was fucking her or if that man from back then was using my body to fuck her hard. Now, on her somewhat plump body, this dress had lost its former radiant effect. The skirt was deformed by her protruding belly, making her heavy breasts look as if they were tightly strapped in, which appeared somewhat comical. I sat on the simple living room sofa scrolling through my phone. Messages from banks and credit cards demanding repayment made me restless. Seeing my wife come out with wet hair, I simply tossed the phone aside, walked up to hug her, and tried to kiss her. Since the "bankruptcy," her body had become my only placebo; having sex with her let me temporarily forget those troubles and find brief pleasure in the climax of ejaculation. My wife didn't respond as enthusiastically as usual. She broke free from my arms, sat by the sofa, then took out a hairdryer from the small cabinet nearby and started drying her hair. I had no choice but to sit beside her silently waiting for her to finish. Awkwardly, I said, "I failed the ride-hailing driver exam. They said there's an issue with my credit record." My wife glanced at me sideways, silently put away the hairdryer, then picked up my phone from the side and walked straight into the bedroom. I tried to follow, but she locked the door behind her. The wife who locked herself inside didn't respond to my knocking. After a while, I heard faint talking coming from the bedroom. I pressed against the door trying to hear what she was saying, but her voice was too soft to make out the words—only her occasional "Mm, mm! Mm." as if answering some questions. After some time, I heard the door lock click, but she didn't come out. I pushed the door open; the lights inside had been turned off at some point. My wife was lying on her side on the bed looking at her phone, while mine had been tossed aside. I took off my clothes and lay down beside her. On the phone screen was a bank transfer notification showing that 6000 yuan had just been transferred out... "What did you just do?" Although I had already guessed the answer, I still found it hard to believe. My wife didn't answer my question and said flatly, "Nothing much. Found a job." "You decided without discussing it with me?" "What's there to discuss? Didn't you already make the contact?" I hugged her from behind, pressing my inexplicably erect cock tightly against the cleft of her round butt. "Don't get excited yet. They said with me being this fat, I might not have any clients who like me!" I wanted to say "How could no one like you?" but swallowed the words back. For a moment, I didn't know how to comfort her. Thinking it might be better to just go to sleep—tomorrow morning I had an interview for a delivery rider job—my wife suddenly turned around, straddled me without a word, and sealed my mouth with her warm, moist lips. I opened my mouth to respond to her passionate kiss, feeling a snake-like tongue slip into my mouth and stir continuously... #MyDeliveryIsMyWife <img src="https://static2.fansone.co/images/a6e404a9-8d0b-4b61-be74-51128d9f9f87.avif" />

The Takeout I Deliver is My Wife Season 1 Episode 3

The old monk’s eyes gleamed with inner light as he fixed his gaze on Weiyangsheng and spoke with patient guidance: “It would be better, benefactor, to take advantage of your present youthful body while it remains that of a virgin, your vital essence undispersed and your yang energy abundant. With one stroke, sever that foul, sinful desire completely, and immediately take me as your master to enter the empty gate! This old monk is willing to be a mere stepping stone, a grindstone for your blade. If you dare make this great vow today, then after a hundred years when your stinking flesh has rotted away, looking upward you shall sit upon a lotus platform as a golden-bodied arhat; looking downward, your name shall never appear on the King of Hell’s register of oil cauldrons and seas of fire!” The old monk twirled his prayer beads, his eyes boring into Weiyangsheng as he asked coldly: “Benefactor, what is your decision?” Weiyangsheng slapped his thigh and burst into loud laughter: “Master, your discernment is clear! To tell the truth, the thought of taking refuge in the Buddhist order occurred to me even as a child; this stinking flesh of mine was always destined for the Dharma. What ruined it is that two immense wishes still remain unfulfilled in my heart, and I truly cannot bear to sever them with one stroke right now.” He leaned back, idly tapping his folding fan against his palm, a meaningful smile playing on his lips: “Besides, I have only just turned twenty this year, when my blood and energy are at their strongest and my body most robust. Better to let me descend the mountain first, fulfill the two fine matters that weigh on my heart, and thoroughly enjoy a few years in this flourishing world. When I have had my fill of pleasure and enjoyment, I shall naturally return to the mountain and allow you, Master, to perform the ordination on my head. That will not delay my attainment of enlightenment!” Hearing this, the old monk’s eyelids lifted, and two venomous, serpentine gazes sliced across Weiyangsheng’s face as he asked sinisterly: “May I ask, layman, just how great are the ambitions you harbor? Could it be that you wish to pass the imperial examinations with honors, rise rapidly in rank, and put your literary talents to use? Or do you intend to wield a three-foot sword at the frontier, earn a marquisate, and serve the court with loyalty?” Weiyangsheng shook his head like a rattle-drum and scoffed: “With my aspirations, I disdain such vulgar pursuits!” The old monk snorted heavily through his nostrils and asked gravely: “If you want neither fame nor office, then what do you seek?” Weiyangsheng suddenly straightened his back and declared proudly: “This wish of mine can be achieved with nothing but my own mortal body; it is no foolish daydream! To be frank, Master, my memory for study, my insight in meditation, and my inspiration in writing are all of the highest order in this vast world. The so-called literary luminaries of today are nothing but fame-seeking mediocrities! They rely on rote memorization and patchwork, stealing old essays and altering a few lines of stale poetry to dare proclaim themselves masters of a generation. In my eyes, they are all common frauds deceiving the world!” His interest aroused, he stood up, flicked his sleeve, and struck a dashing, romantic pose: “A true scholar who stands above the heavens and earth must read every rare book and miscellaneous learning under the sky, befriend every extraordinary person within the four seas, and visit every majestic mountain and great river! Then, retiring to his study’s warm chamber, he writes works that will be read and revered for generations. With good fortune, he may rank among the top three on the imperial list and handle a couple of great affairs for His Majesty; even if he dies of old age beneath a broken wall, he will have lived as an immortal romantic of the ages!” Carried away, he raised one finger and struck the table heavily: “Therefore, I have long inscribed half a couplet in my heart—the first line being: ‘To become the foremost talent in the world!’” The monk’s face twitched as he pressed: “And the second line?” Weiyangsheng’s lips moved, a bright spring-like flush appearing on his face, but he hesitated and did not reply at once. Seeing his expression, the old monk’s mouth curved in mockery: “Since you cannot bring yourself to speak it, why not allow this old monk to match the second line for you?” Weiyangsheng was taken aback, then patted his chest and laughed: “This is a secret thought I have kept hidden in my heart, never spoken to anyone…” The old monk said coldly: “If I guess wrong, I accept punishment; if I hit the mark, do not try to deny it!” Weiyangsheng treated it as a bluff and laughed loudly: “If Master can truly divine it, then you are a living immortal reincarnated; I shall kowtow and worship you without a single false word!” The old monk gave a cold laugh, did not even lift his eyelids, and said offhandedly: “Then the second line must be: ‘To sleep with the foremost beauty in the world.’” Weiyangsheng’s mouth fell open, his eyeballs nearly popping out of their sockets! He stood frozen like a wooden chicken for a long moment, then suddenly slapped his thigh hard, gasping and crying out: “Divine monk! Truly a divine being! These two lines are exactly what I have been turning over in my belly day and night, muttering through clenched teeth even in dreams! How could Master guess them so precisely?” The old monk sneered mockingly: “Has the layman never heard the saying—‘In a dark room with a guilty conscience, the divine eye is like lightning; whispers in the human world are heard in heaven like thunder’?” Weiyangsheng simply tore off his scholar’s cap, casting aside all pretense of refinement, and shamelessly leaned forward to confess: “By rights, such lustful talk should never sully a master’s pure ears in a sacred Buddhist place. But since you have seen through me at a glance, I shall hide nothing—To be honest, my heart for cultivating Buddhism and saving the world is as thin as window paper, yet the evil fire of lust burns within me daily, fiercer than oil poured on flames! Since ancient times, the four words ‘talented man and beautiful woman’ must be welded tightly together, inseparable! A top-tier talent like myself is destined to be matched with a peerless beauty; otherwise, how could those nation-toppling, city-captivating looks be wasted on crude and vulgar fools?” His eyes grew brighter as he spoke, spittle flying in excitement: “Setting aside my heaven-shaking, ghost-weeping talent, just look at my appearance and bearing—facing the mirror daily, even if Pan An or Wei Jie were resurrected before me, I would not yield an inch! Since Heaven has produced such an outstanding figure as myself, how could it fail to produce a soul-stealing beauty to accompany me?” He clenched his fist tightly and declared fiercely: “It is precisely because this evil fire cannot be suppressed that I, past twenty, have refused to betroth or marry, fearing that wedding some ordinary woman would waste this romantic body of mine! After I descend the mountain this time to wander the rivers and lakes, find the world’s finest beauty and consummate the affair, enjoying the pleasures of fish and water to the fullest and continuing the family line, then—my lifelong desires fulfilled and my flesh thoroughly satisfied—I shall sever worldly ties. Not only will I return to shave my head and become a monk, but I shall also bring my lovely wife into the empty gate with me, ascending to the other shore together!” He caught his breath, chin slightly raised, and looked at the old monk with raised eyebrows: “Master, what do you think of this plan of mine?” The old monk’s eye twitched as he crushed the ebony prayer beads in his palm with a “crack,” and said expressionlessly: “From this, it seems the layman refuses to suffer the slightest loss and blames the blind, muddled Creator for giving birth to you! Had He granted you a crippled, ulcerous, pus-dripping monstrous body in the womb, your remaining spark of spirituality might more easily have attained enlightenment. Throughout history, those afflicted with leprosy, epilepsy, or paralysis—whose flesh endured Heaven’s great punishments—were instead able to forge indestructible immortal bodies. That is the principle.” The old monk leaned forward, his gaze like a bottomless dry well, his tone growing colder: “When you were conceived, Heaven must have indulged you to excess, like foolish parents spoiling a wastrel—never willing to touch a single hair or speak a harsh word. Once this unruly youth grew up, relying on his fair skin and strong bones, he thought even the Heavenly King could not control him, committing every kind of evil in the streets! Only when he committed a heinous crime, had his trousers stripped and his buttocks beaten to pulp by officials, and was dragged to the execution ground to have his head severed, did he weep bitterly and blame his parents for spoiling him too much—alas, too late for regret!” He pointed a bony finger at Weiyangsheng’s chest: “This fair, tender skin and this lawless, spoiled temperament of yours—is that a blessing? Clearly it is a soul-hook stretching from the fires of hell! You claim to be the foremost talent and thus seek the world’s foremost beauty—never mind whether you can find such a rarity; how will you prove the word ‘foremost’? If you later encounter an even more captivating woman, will you not tire of the old and crave the new?!” At this, the old monk’s voice suddenly rose like thunder cracking across a plain: “Even if we take ten thousand steps back, suppose this number-one beauty’s temperament matches yours exactly and refuses to marry just anyone, insisting on waiting for the world’s number-one talent—if you can marry her openly and honorably, well and good; but what if she is already married to another? What then, benefactor?” The old monk suddenly stood up, his kasaya billowing without wind, towering over Weiyangsheng: “Benefactor, do you wish to ascend to heaven or descend to hell?! If you are determined to leap into the boiling oil cauldron, then descend the mountain and seek your number-one beauty; if you wish to rise to heaven and become a Buddha, cast aside those wanton, filthy thoughts at once and follow this old monk into the empty gate!” Faced with the old monk’s aggressive questioning, Weiyangsheng was not intimidated; instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and sneered dismissively: “Master speaks of ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ as if from some vulgar street tale—hardly the words of a transcendent monk! Zen cultivation lies in self-realization; as long as this disciple stands his flesh-and-blood body in this red-dust world, he himself becomes the living Buddha practicing amid the world!” He glanced sideways, flicked open his folding fan with a “swish,” and grew more smug: “Even if this disciple is licentious by nature and commits some watery sins upon women’s bellies, at worst he merely smashes the chastity arch of those fake Confucian sages—surely the netherworld does not truly have several boiling oil cauldrons waiting to cook me?! These are nothing but ghost stories to frighten three-year-old children!” The old monk was not angered by this frivolous speech; instead, a cold smile tugged at his lips: “‘The virtuous ascend to heaven, the wicked descend to hell’—it does sound like empty street-corner talk. Yet you self-proclaimed mad scholars think you can leap beyond the rules and laws of this world; only the iron law of cause and effect, of reaping what you sow, cannot be escaped even if you grew three heads and six arms! The distinction between heaven and hell is exact in the unseen realm. Even if there truly is no heaven, the gentleman must still use it as a ladder toward goodness; even if there truly is no hell, people must still use it as a cleaver to fear evil!” The old monk raised one hand before his chest, his tone shifting from measured to grave, each word striking like a heavy drumbeat: “Since you dismiss the underworld as illusory, this old monk will not speak of reincarnation or retribution, but only of the present-life consequences in the life you are living! The ancients said: ‘If I do not violate another’s wife, another will not violate my own.’ Has there ever been one throughout history who escaped the palm of this saying? Whoever, against his conscience, toys with another’s wife or daughter—his own wife or daughter will sooner or later lose her virtue to another man! To break this karmic retribution, you must restrain your lustful heart in this lifetime and stay far from all adulterous deeds; if you dare commit evil, this clichéd retribution will surely fall heavily upon you!” The old monk slammed both hands on the table, leaning forward and staring into Weiyangsheng’s eyes: “Layman, do you wish to escape this cause and effect? If you wish to fall into the trap and die, then go seek your world’s foremost beauty; if you wish to attain a pure life, immediately cast aside those filthy thoughts and follow this old monk to achieve enlightenment!” #ClassicNewTranslationOfTheCarnalPrayerMat <img src="https://static2.fansone.co/images/f2802c78-f436-497d-b089-ad1bb8162816.avif" />

Classic New Translation of The Carnal Prayer Mat, Chapter 3

For a while my wife had some gynecological issues. The day after sex she would always have lower abdominal pain, and when it hurt badly she wouldn't even dare get out of bed. We bought Qianjin Pian and Levofloxacin at home, but they didn't help, so I had to take her to the hospital for an examination.While waiting in the area outside the gynecology clinic, I was bored out of my mind. I happened to pick up a small flyer from the floor. Thinking it was just a typical solicitation card, I scanned the QR code and added the WeChat to kill some time. Unexpectedly, it turned out to be a recruitment account for a prostitution platform, claiming to offer "quick and discreet earning opportunities" specifically for women in need of money. Through encrypted chats and anonymous order assignments, it ensured safety for both sides. My heart skipped a beat, and the image of my wife being pinned down by a stranger flashed through my mind, making my lower body tighten involuntarily.The "customer service" on the other end was surprisingly polite and enthusiastic. I had always been curious about how such a "mysterious organization" operated, so we chatted back and forth. It turned out they registered merchants on mainstream food delivery and errand platforms, using ordinary restaurants as cover. Clients in need would order specific "products" on the designated platform, and these orders would then be reassigned internally by the "company" to special riders—known as "delivery girls"—who would provide sexual services during the "delivery." Behind this seemingly simple model was meticulous operation. Customer service mentioned they had "cooperation" within the platform to ensure orders wouldn't be detected by regulators, but they didn't elaborate on the details, which only made the mystery more exciting for me.Enjoying the chat, I suddenly had an idea and sent them a photo of my wife, saying I was short on cash and wanted to join too. In the photo she had heavy makeup, her huge breasts barely contained, her sexy and charming vibe fully on display. Customer service quickly replied that her looks and figure met the requirements perfectly. Although she was a bit older and slightly plump, her mature womanly aura and voluptuous curves were actually more popular with high-end clients.I repeatedly assured customer service that my wife was absolutely great in bed and highly cooperative. They told me I could arrange a time for her to do an in-person verification, and if there were no issues, paying a 6000 yuan deposit would register her as a rider under a rider crowdsourcing company. After that, any orders with "special requests" would be assigned to me through secondary distribution, and I would complete the "delivery."This unprecedented safe and discreet model made my blood boil, completely igniting my inner wife-sharing fetish. Imagining sending my sexy and charming wife into some hotel room or dimly lit building corridor like a food delivery, watching her get pinned down and fucked hard by a stranger right before my eyes, waves of throbbing in my lower body, the twisted pleasure almost giving me a cranial orgasm, my cock aching from how hard it was.After the doctor's visit, my wife was fine. After getting her prescription she felt much more relaxed, so I suggested we go out for dinner. We hadn't enjoyed a romantic meal in a long time due to our tight finances, so she was naturally thrilled. Despite her alcohol allergy, she still had a small sip of red wine with me, her flushed cheeks making her look even more seductive. During the meal I told her about the "food delivery prostitution" model I had discovered at the hospital. She thought I was making up a story to tease her and playfully said, "Sure, go ahead and send me then…"Once a couple opens up this kind of taboo topic, their emotions quickly "sync up." Seeing the moment was right, I showed her the chat records on my phone. She silently read through it, and when she saw the customer service message saying "easily make over ten thousand a month," her beautiful big eyes sparkled, as if she was tempted.Following the customer service instructions on my phone, I found a store. This five-star merchant that had been operating for three years looked ordinary, but the "special dishes" marked with a secret code had over 100 monthly sales. She stared at the screen, her lips curling up unconsciously, and murmured softly, "Honey, if this can really bring in tens of thousands a month, we'd be set…"#MyWifeIsTheTakeout<img src="https://static2.fansone.co/images/c7732fca-07d4-4d96-acc5-baeeebea7a11.avif" />

The Takeout I Deliver Is My Wife Season 1 Episode 2

The ancients said: A man's life is but one spring and autumn for grass and trees. Black hair cannot be retained, and a youthful face fades in the blink of an eye. Fame, fortune, and power are ultimately like a gust of wind scattering fallen flowers; only upon death does one regret not having enjoyed life to the fullest in youth! Filled with endless remorse. Yet those who seek pleasure in time often suffer in old age or die young due to unrestrained indulgence, as the saying goes: Born for the cunt, living for the cunt, and finally dying on the cunt. As a man tallying the world's greatest joys on his fingers, the first must be the carnal delights between the sheets. Who does not yearn for a life of endless tenderness day and night? Who does not crave embracing a naked, warm, soft body until the sun is high? And when you reach the point of seeing through society's true nature, you realize that all driving forces in this world arise from the opening and closing of a woman's legs! Ordinary people are born to suffer, toiling like oxen and horses daily for survival—what happiness is there in that? Precisely for this reason, the ancient gods who created heaven and earth designed procreation as an act of boundless pleasure through the union of man and woman, granting all beings the innate right to joy. Regardless of status, this one matter grants equal access. The old saying goes that the door between a woman's legs is the gate through which souls reincarnate and the gate that takes lives. To the wise, if this inch of pleasurable flesh between a woman's legs vanished from the world, men's lifespans would surely shorten! Look at those enlightened monks—how many reach forty or fifty without graying hair? How many remain robust at seventy or eighty? Some claim monks, despite renouncing the world, often fail to stay chaste and steal women like common men, depleting their vital essence and thus dying young. Then look at the eunuchs in the capital! Eunuchs neither consort with women nor engage in sodomy; their members are completely severed. By rights, they should live youthfully for centuries, yet their faces wrinkle deeper than anyone's, their hair turns white earliest, and bearing the title of "eunuch," they resemble withered old women! In the capital, only commoners receive longevity plaques; never has a centenarian archway been erected for a castrated man. Thus, the fleshly act of man and woman uniting harms no one. Yet regrettably, the Compendium of Materia Medica omits this, allowing people to spout nonsense for their own ends. Some call it nourishing yin and strengthening yang; others deem it a bone-scraping steel blade. In my view, this thing is not only greatly restorative but its medicinal properties rival precious ginseng and spiritual herbs! Both involve the mutual complement of yin and yang, acting in harmony. Ginseng and spiritual herbs are great tonics but cannot be consumed gluttonously like rice! Overindulgence without regard for dosage or timing can still kill. The same holds for carnal pleasures: only with measured, steady flow can yin and yang, water and fire, harmonize and nourish; ceaseless debauchery will quickly exhaust essence and blood, pitting water and fire against each other, harming both yin and yang. Sexual love, used to temper life, has miraculous effects in invigorating meridians and relieving boredom; but without restraint, it leads to depleting kidney essence and exhausting qi and blood. Men who treat women as medicine must master the measure: neither too distant nor too indulgent; do not withhold love, yet do not pounce like a starving ghost without care. Nor should one be bound by false moralists: "Man-woman love and fleshly desires are human nature—what shame is there?" Yet when truly stripping a woman bare and pinning her down, with your cock burning hot, remind yourself: "There is land that cannot be plowed fully, but no ox that cannot be worked to death! Having tasted the joy, know when to stop!" Thus, your vital essence will neither stagnate nor deplete. The Daoists say: Only what is both pleasurable and health-preserving is the true path! Though the pleasures of man and woman parallel ginseng and spiritual herbs, they are opposites: ginseng and herbs must be "wild" from deep mountains to be potent; those "cultivated" in pharmacies lack full efficacy. Yet this medicine called woman is most restorative when "cultivated"; the "wild" ones not only lack efficacy but may cost your life! What is "cultivated"? It means your own legitimate wife or concubine at home—no need to spend silver each time, nor scheme and cajole; you can pull her to bed whenever you wish! Lie, kneel, or stand as you please; no one cares how you indulge. Ignore knocks at the door; play freely on the bed without fear. A union leaves you thoroughly satisfied, harms no vital energy, allows ejaculation to beget sons and continue the lineage. Pleasure from scalp to toes, body relaxed and open—this is true nourishment for body and mind. Those "wild" ones differ. Whether the neighbor's beauty or the brothel's wanton. As the saying goes, "Home chicken lacks the flavor of wild pheasant"; seeing one's wife age, her flesh loosen, indeed cannot match the youthful, firm, juicy flesh outside. One inevitably craves a taste of the wild! Especially encountering top-tier sluts who make you toss sleepless at night, racking your mind to embrace and toy with them, to taste thrusting between their legs, to hear the lewd words and moans from their flirtatious eyes and faces. Thus you first flirt with glances, then throw real gold and silver, secretly arrange trysts, and commit adultery like a thief in hiding. No matter how bold your lust, when carrying your rock-hard cock to another's door, your heart tightens like a rat's! During the tryst, though knowing no one is around, you suspect eyes watching from behind, fearing exposure; the sweat of passion is scant, but cold sweat of fear soaks your crotch. Worse, it haunts your days and invades your dreams; your mind abandons proper business, your heroic spirit vanishes, replaced by a rat-like demeanor! Sooner or later, you'll leap naked into an abyss, inviting catastrophe! Secretly harming virtue, openly breaking the law. If caught in bed and hacked to death, no one to pay the price; your body severed, your wife left in the world to be toyed with by other men—such tragedies are countless! Thus, when lust rules, never forsake the near for the far or favor the new over the old! All this rambling aims to tell readers not to misunderstand this book's intent. It uses tales of carnal chaos to sound an alarm, urging restraint of wicked desires, not to teach wanton indulgence; it guards the threshold against lewdness, not to champion libertines and sluts! Some ask: If seeking to curb evil fire, why not write a proper Daoist text to uphold morals, instead of such explicit erotic fiction? You do not know! To change customs, one must lead by the donkey's temperament; only then do words enter the mind. In today's world, who cares for sage classics? All love wild histories and secrets! Even in wild histories, they tire of loyal ministers and filial sons' preachings, craving tales of adultery and exposed flesh. Society's rot runs to the bone! If one preaches great principles to urge virtue, not only will none spend to buy it—even giving it free as charity ends with it torn for pickling jars or wiping asses; none will read it closely! Better to use these lascivious tales of man-woman union to stir inner cravings! As you stare at two pale bodies, cock pounding, juices splashing, thrusting with relish, eyes glazed, suddenly jab a few sharp needles below, jolting you to gasp and inwardly cry: "This licentious pleasure is thrilling, yet if it costs this dog's life of joy, becoming a ghost under the peony, it is not worth it." Then, when depicting the thunderous retribution and grisly ends of adulterers, coldly hint: "Coveting others' wives and daughters brings such evil karma! Better to train one's own wanton wife at home. Why lose wife and army, trading life and fortune for the King's romantic debt!" Once the mind turns here, the evil path naturally ends. With the evil path severed, the man cherishes his wife, the woman respects her man; the righteous moral path of the Book of Songs lies entirely within the square inch of the marital bed! This is the supreme method of "addressing the matter at hand, curing desire with desire." Indeed, not only we writers of romantic histories use this; even the sages in the classics mastered it long ago. Recall the Warring States period, when King Xuan of Qi met Mencius. Mencius passionately preached the great way of benevolent rule; the King, a vulgar man obsessed with silver and women, had no interest in governance and merely humored him: "Good, yes! Teacher, you speak truly well…" Mencius pressed: "Since Your Majesty finds it good, why not act?" The King spread his hands: "I have a flaw—I love wealth and hate to spend!" Mencius immediately recounted how Duke Liu, also fond of wealth, filled granaries for those guarding homes and sacks for those campaigning afar… Hearing the endless chatter, the King cast aside decorum and blurted: "I have another flaw—I love women with ample breasts and slender waists! I have no mind for court affairs, only daily enjoyment of beauties!" At this, the King cared not for the infamy of tyrants like Jie of Xia or Zhou of Shang, clearly unwilling to hear more politically correct preachings. Had this been a false moralist, he would have glared and cursed: "Since antiquity, kings who loved women lost their realms; commoners who loved women died without intact corpses!" Hearing such farting words, the King would think: "I am terminally ill and incurable; no need for this pedant's farting—get lost!" Unexpectedly, hearing this, Mencius did not anger but began recounting gossip of how King Tai of Zhou fled with his wife Jiang on horseback. Mencius embellished vividly, leaving the King scratching his ears and unable to stop! Mencius said that though King Tai fled with his beloved wife in his arms, this lecherous ruler did not lose his state because he empathized—fleeing with his wife, he ordered all men to flee with theirs. While King Tai vigorously pleasured Jiang in his tent, the common folk in the camp did likewise in their straw beds! This is the true sage king spreading spring wind and equal dew! Who could slander such a ruler, who shares joys with the people equally, as lecherous? Hearing this, King Xuan of Qi felt utterly at ease, as if finding an idol and confidant; from then on, he willingly followed Mencius's advice, no longer seeing "I love women" as shameful. The author's purpose in writing this novel is the same! This book depicts the lascivious postures of men and women stripped for union, portraying the sensual eroticism within bed curtains, inevitably carrying a scent of lust and fleshly desire, yet all serves to lead you to the final bloody outcome, thus understanding retribution and awakening reverence! Otherwise, this book would be a dry, bitter olive; what use is any later sweetness? Bitter at first bite, who would keep chewing? These vivid depictions of fleshly desire are but a layer of cloyingly sweet candied date flesh wrapping the mind-awakening olive pit. Leading you to swallow it whole without spitting, only then can you slowly savor the "flavor" behind the words! #ClassicNewTranslationOfTheCarnalPrayerMat<img src="https://static2.fansone.co/images/200dccbb-cc33-4b2d-a140-1c456849a2c3.avif" />

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Today's special mission, let those with the ability to master it achieve it. Many things have opportunities if you ask, as the old saying goes, opportunities are always given to those who are prepared