The school bell rang, I packed my bag, and walked down the school building. The afterglow of the setting sun bathed the campus in a warm orange glow, but my heart remained cold.
Wang Xiong hadn't come to class all day.
Walking down the street, I heard Fatty and Cobra's voices coming from behind me again.
"I wonder how far things have progressed between Xiong-ge and Xiaowei's mom, hehe..."
"Needless to say? On one side is a mature woman like Xiaowei's mom, and on the other is a strong woman like Shang Yan..."
I gripped my bag tightly and quickened my pace. But no matter how fast I walked, I could still hear their faint, lewd laughter. That grating sound was like a sharp knife, cutting into my heart. Every time I heard them talking about Xia Ling and Aunt Shang like that, I wanted to rush up and fight them, but I knew that my impulse would only make Xia Ling's situation more difficult.
By the time I got home, it was getting dark.
A pair of black patent leather high heels sat neatly arranged in the entryway. The 10cm heels were sharp and elegant, their surfaces gleaming alluringly under the light. Clearly, Mom had returned.
In the living room, Mom was sitting on the leather sofa, talking on the phone.
She was dressed as usual: a black suit with a white silk blouse underneath, and the familiar stockings under her black trousers. Her black-stockinged feet were in slippers, exuding the aura of a powerful businesswoman.
"Hmm, the basic requirements for models must be strictly adhered to," Mom said, elegantly crossing her legs. Her black-stockinged feet swayed gently in her slippers, her toes pointed yet relaxed. "A tall figure is the bare minimum, and the curve from the calf to the ankle must be perfect; this is key to showcasing stockings."
I tiptoed over, not wanting to disturb Mom's work.
But she still noticed me. While talking on the phone, she nodded slightly at me, her eyes filled with a tender maternal love.
"Oh? The lighting has been readjusted too?" Mom shifted her position, her long legs crossed, the soft rustling of her black stockings against her thighs. "The main light should come from a 45-degree angle to ensure the 'Flatness Series' light and sheer feel is highlighted. Combined with the LED floor lights, every turn of the model should showcase the sheen and texture of the stockings."
She paused, her voice growing more stern: "I'm not entirely satisfied with the models we selected before. I'll be auditioning them myself tomorrow afternoon. Make sure the models are all prepared. Each of them should have three different presentation plans, and the poses and gaits for each series must be meticulously designed. The launch is only a few days away; this step must be perfect."
I sat on the sofa beside her, silently watching Mom.
The warm light from the floor lamp spilled from behind her, outlining her perfect profile. When she tilted her head slightly, her delicate jawline and long neck drew a graceful arc, and the slight fatigue on her face couldn't conceal her innate charm. A black suit jacket hugged her slender figure, and her legs, clad in stockings, gleamed alluringly under the light.
Xia Ling was always so decisive and efficient when handling work, but tonight, when she used words like "presentation" and "posture," I clearly saw a hint of unease hidden beneath her slightly furrowed brow. Her legs, seemingly elegantly crossed beneath her trousers, always exuded a barely perceptible tension, as if she were desperately trying to conceal some secret.
Finally, Xia Ling ended the call.
She put down her phone, her slender fingers gently rubbing her temples. Her beautiful legs, clad in black stockings, were elegantly crossed. When she turned to me, the weariness on her face was instantly replaced by tenderness: "Xiaowei, how was school today?"
"Mom," I hesitated for a moment before speaking, "Wang Xiong didn't come to school all day..."
Hearing the name Wang Xiong, Xia Ling's body visibly stiffened. Her fingers unconsciously traced her shirt collar, and her legs, encased in black stockings, involuntarily came together. But this movement was fleeting; she quickly regained her usual composure.
"It's alright. He wanted to intern at the company, so I let him come," Xia Ling said, her gaze intentionally or unintentionally avoiding mine. "You don't need to worry about these things."
"But..."
I recalled Wang Xiong's gradual "training" of Xia Ling, from the French restaurant to the underground parking lot, from foot fetishes in the office to nightly video calls, coupled with the vulgar language from the Cobra gang at school. My heart grew increasingly uneasy.
"Alright!" Mom suddenly raised her voice, interrupting me.
She stood up, her beautiful legs in black stockings taut beneath her trousers, looking down at me condescendingly. "Your task now is to study hard. You don't need to worry about anything else."
I wanted to say something, but seeing Mom's slightly furrowed brow, I swallowed my words. At times like this, she always adopted a superior motherly demeanor, sternly shutting down my concern.
But Mom didn't know that the more she acted this way, the more I could sense her unease. Especially when Wang Xiong was mentioned, her momentary panic and slightly trembling voice made me increasingly uncertain.
"Madam, dinner is ready." The housekeeper came over from the dining room at the opportune moment.
"Let's go, let's eat."
Mom stood up, her beautiful black-stockinged feet in slippers, and walked gracefully towards the dining room.
I followed behind, watching Mom's upright figure, my unease growing stronger. Although she acted as if nothing was amiss, I always felt that beneath the calm surface, undercurrents were surging.
At the dinner table, Mom ate her dinner while continuing to work. Her slender fingers tapped lightly on the phone screen, her long, shapely legs, clad in black stockings, elegantly crossed under the table. I knew the weekend's press conference was important for the company, but at that moment, I was only worried about something else.