My name is Wesley Song.
I am sitting on the balcony of my own seaside villa, putting pen to a brand‑new page to write down the story that happened to me.
That summer waved goodbye to me, yet left behind a pain carved deep into my bones.
Today, as I write, it is to crush this heart into pieces and throw it into the sea.
Summer of 2023, the sky clear for thousands of miles.
Handong International Airport, International Terminal T3 exit.
That day, I drove my wife and my parents‑in‑law to wait here for another member of the family: my wife’s younger brother, Nick.
At that time, I still did not know that this African war orphan my father‑in‑law had adopted back then would bring me endless shame and regret.
Back then, we were still a wealthy and happy family, eagerly awaiting the return of this family member.
My wife and my mother‑in‑law were both dressed radiantly that day, drawing countless side‑glances from passersby, who whispered among themselves from time to time.
I no longer clearly remember the exact words, but overall they were all exclaiming how beautiful my wife and mother‑in‑law were.
People who had seen my wife, Diana Shen, often said that her looks resembled those of the big star Liu Shishi.
But I felt that even Liu Shishi’s beauty could barely reach half of my wife’s.
This was not just “beauty in the eye of the lover”; just in terms of height, my wife’s 1.75 meters made her much taller and more willowy than the just‑over‑1.6‑meter Liu Shishi.
Both beauties had the same kind of cold, glamorous phoenix eyes, but my wife’s were more seductive and lively.
Especially when she glanced at people unintentionally, the slight upward tilt of the outer corners of her eyes gave off a transcendent, untouchable, proud aura.
That day, my wife wore a pure‑white dress.
The trumpet‑flower shape of the skirt, paired with ten‑centimeter, open‑toed, thin‑heeled sandals, made her look from afar like a snow lotus from the Tianshan Mountains, or like an enchanting narcissus.
Cold yet dazzling, a devastatingly beautiful woman, so beautiful she did not seem like someone of this world.
My mother‑in‑law, Helen Ye, was 46 that year.
She had a delicate, youthful small round face of the same type as Cate Blanchett, and people who knew her often thought she had undergone some miracle of reverse aging, as if her gorgeous looks had become frozen on her youthful features.
That day, to welcome back her son who had been away for four years, Mother‑in‑law especially wore a tight‑fitting cheongsam made of light purple satin with subtle patterns.
Her full, mature body, with its thrust‑out chest and pronounced hips, was accentuated to the extreme.
Never mind the people around us; even I, the son‑in‑law, still swallow hard when I recall it now.
As for my father‑in‑law and me, we also had decent looks, but under the blinding radiance of my wife and mother‑in‑law we could only be green leaves serving as background.
Back then, I had not yet become the decadent, desolate man I am now.
I was still that elegant, tall, strong‑built, successful young entrepreneur, the envy of everyone.
Just as everyone was envying how well‑matched our family was, a tall, robust black figure appeared, pushing a suitcase out of the gate.
Nearly two meters tall, he stood out like a crane among chickens.
Diana immediately rose on the jade foot wrapped in ultra‑thin nude stockings, raised one slender arm and called out, “Nick, over here, over here!” On my wife’s cold, pretty oval face, her lips curved into a brilliant smile when she saw Nick.
It was like the sun breaking through over an ice mountain, so beautiful one could not help but sink into it.
Watching how happy Diana was, I secretly pursed my lips.
He’s just an adopted son with no blood ties; does she really have to be this happy?
Back then, that sweet smile that rarely graced Diana’s face was a benefit reserved exclusively for me.
Yet right in front of my eyes, she was showing it to another man.
Regardless of whether Nick was her younger brother, I was already extremely displeased.
“Sis, Mom!” Nick wore a simple, clean white T‑shirt and light‑blue three‑quarter pants, with big feet in AJ basketball shoes.
It was the standard look of an African‑American youth.
He strode quickly up to us, pushed his suitcase aside, spread his arms, and wrapped them around the fragrant shoulders of the stunning mother‑and‑daughter pair, drawing them into his embrace.
This kind of blessing, out of reach for ordinary people, once again drew sidelong glances from passersby.
“Dad, Brother‑in‑Law.” Still holding Mother‑in‑law and my wife, Nick looked over to greet my father‑in‑law and me.
My father‑in‑law, perhaps used to Nick’s Western way of showing affection, simply folded his hands behind his back and stood off to the side, his wrinkled face full of warm kindness.
Looking back now, that scene was clearly the classic tale of Mr.
Dongguo and the wolf.
At the time, although I also had a smile on my face, my eyes never left Nick’s.
I saw a fleeting, strange look flash through his eyes, but did not think much of it.
I just assumed it was my jealousy acting up, making me feel annoyed at this black guy Nick, and did not consider anything else.
It was only later, after things had become completely unmanageable, that I realized Nick’s return to China in the summer of 2023 was the beginning of my nightmare.
That day, after a short round of greetings at the T3 exit, the family got into the car.
I drove, Father‑in‑law Gerald Shen sat in the front passenger seat, and the tall, long‑limbed Nick was squeezed between my wife and mother‑in‑law in the back.
Mother‑in‑law, on the right, patted Nick’s black hand.
“Nick, you’re now an overseas returnee with an MBA.
What are your plans?” “I’m thinking of going for some interviews in a few days, relying on my own ability and, like Brother‑in‑Law, carving out a world of my own.”