Life is like a drop of rain falling from the sky; one never knows which river it will eventually join.

Just as George Washington was once merely the carefree son of a plantation owner in his youth, Wang Zhuo never imagined that his future would unfold into such a magnificent blueprint.

The once naive him had always yearned for a pure romance, to marry a gentle, virtuous, thoughtful, and kind wife, and then raise a healthy, adorable, chubby baby, living a simple and happy life. How could he have foreseen a day like this, where he himself would be like a relentless hungry snake, wanting more and more beautiful women—even extending his reach beyond national borders?

A corrupt official, when first entering politics, may not have intended to become corrupt; similarly, when Wang Zhuo first transitioned from boy to man, he too believed he would remain faithful to one. Alas, neither of them could keep that promise!

But this comparison might not be entirely apt, at least Wang Zhuo certainly wouldn't admit it. He felt his current state was excellent, truly superb—this was what it meant to seize the day when life is going well, for a fine man to have ambitions that stretch far, to pluck the flower while it blooms, and to ride swiftly in the spring breeze!

Speaking of "riding swiftly in the spring breeze" (Chunfeng deyi matizhi), one must mention the source of this phrase: the Tang Dynasty poet Meng Jiao’s poem, After Passing the Imperial Examination.

—The dust of past hardships need no praise; today, my soaring thoughts are boundless. Riding swiftly in the spring breeze, I see all of Chang’an’s flowers in a single day.

This poem perfectly captures Wang Zhuo’s current state of life. His past struggles are no longer worth mentioning, and the extent of his current [censored/implied pleasure] need not be elaborated upon; the spring breeze satisfaction is a true reflection of his mood!

Especially the title of the poem, Passing the Imperial Examination (Dengke), holds a special significance. In ancient times, getting married was often called the "Minor Imperial Success" (Xiao Dengke). Dengke referred to achieving the highest honors on the official exams, while Xiao Dengke meant taking a bride, because the groom traditionally wore robes and a wreath, making him resemble a successful candidate. Hence the saying "Minor Imperial Success."

The current Wang Zhuo is neither getting married nor taking a bride, but the feeling is strikingly similar: the same radiant spirit, the same sense of triumph—it truly constitutes a "Minor, Minor Imperial Success"!

Whether an additional "Minor" should precede the "Minor, Minor Imperial Success" is a question for another time. Although Irene had important work the next day and it wasn't suitable for her to accompany him in his success tonight, Wang Zhuo wasn't overly concerned. Sometimes his demands seemed genuinely modest—what choice did he have, given his particular tastes!

Blonde hair, blue eyes, devastating beauty, flawless London accent—the magical girl beloved by millions on the silver screen, an angel spirit who had folded her wings to descend to earth, was now, like any other girl, conquered beneath Wang Zhuo’s feet.

It was a peculiar pleasure, infused with so many layers of thought; all these elements mingled to constitute a feeling of comfort, a delight, an exhilaration, a pure joy that surged into Wang Zhuo’s nerve centers.

Wang Zhuo had experienced many inexperienced girls: some kept their heads down, too shy to lift them; others maintained constant eye contact, watching his expression to gauge his feelings; some were clumsy, requiring patient [censored/implied action] for quite a while before satisfying him; others were naturally gifted, achieving surprising new feats after only two or three tries.

Perhaps this was one reason why Wang Zhuo enjoyed this game: everyone can perform magic, but each has their own subtlety. Different women bring different pleasures and maintain freshness. This way, the man only needs to sit back and enjoy—effortless, blissful, supremely dominant, visually pleasing, physically gratifying, and delightful to the senses.

Irene, indeed, brought him yet another kind of unique pleasure, one exceptionally distinct from the rest.

Western women are independent and proud, a fundamental difference from the girls Wang Zhuo had encountered before. Take Irene now: she showed no inclination to flatter or appease Wang Zhuo. She simply wanted to do it, felt she could do it, so she did it.

She was deeply engrossed, thoroughly enjoying herself, almost lost in the moment, as if she had discovered a fascinating new toy she couldn't put down—perhaps inspired by Wang Zhuo’s guidance, her lips and tongue were exquisitely [censored/implied skill]. In the friction and contact of skin against skin, the pleasure she derived seemed to be no less than his own.

Another girl who naturally enjoyed this act from the heart and soul was Angel, but compared to Angel’s greater [censored/implied interaction], Irene seemed more focused on her own performance!

Wang Zhuo felt a mixture of amusement and frustration. Although this blonde maiden provided him with ultimate ecstasy, she paid almost no attention to his own sensations!

Are people from the West all this self-absorbed?

But he quickly dismissed these trivial thoughts; the night was short, enjoyment was paramount!

Turning, he propped the pillow upright at the head of the bed, Wang Zhuo shifted his body upward by supporting himself with his hands, moving from a semi-reclining position to sitting upright. Irene, keeping him in her mouth, followed his movement as he crawled forward.

This girl... she was too perfectly suited for him. Wang Zhuo smiled, patting her head. Her blonde hair was fine and soft, flowing like a drift of seaweed, and her sapphire-blue eyes resembled gems under starlight, shimmering with a hazy glow.

The air quality in London was slightly better than Beijing’s. Outside, the stars were brilliant, but the thick curtains tightly sealed the windows, allowing not a sliver of light to penetrate. This was a paradise for London paparazzi; who knew what hidden camera might be lurking in some corner, spying on everything happening in the distance.

Wang Zhuo couldn't quite reconcile the girl beneath him with the timid yet strong magical girl from the films, but this did nothing to diminish his pride and self-satisfaction at this moment. The Magical Academy film series had grossed over ten billion USD worldwide, with audiences exceeding a billion people globally. And the actress who successfully portrayed the heroine was right here beside him—perhaps beneath him would be more accurate. Her lips were soft, her tongue slick, and the sensation of entering was truly magnificent...

A ticklish, numbing sensation returned as Irene’s tongue began teasing the hidden valley once more. Wang Zhuo drew a long, satisfying breath, gently pinched her ears between his fingers, and then slowly pushed his hips forward, deepening his entry gradually.

Irene was momentarily surprised, then quickly opened and closed her mouth, attempting to coordinate with his movement. But she soon found herself lacking the strength and surrendered, choked slightly as Wang Zhuo reached his limit against her throat, causing her to cough violently as she scrambled to pull back.

She shot a playfully annoyed look at the chuckling Wang Zhuo, then flicked her finger lightly against the wet, glistening tip, suddenly saying with a grin, "Will you take a picture for me?"

A picture? Wang Zhuo asked, taken aback. "What for?"

"I want to see what I look like." Irene smiled coquettishly, sat up abruptly, and ran barefoot toward the side.

"Are you sure you want to take it? Aren't you afraid it’ll get leaked?" Wang Zhuo asked, holding the phone she handed him, half-amused, half-exasperated.

"Just take it if I ask you to. I’m not afraid, why should you be?" Irene giggled. "I’ll just delete it after we look. It’s fine."

"Even deleted files can be recovered," Wang Zhuo said seriously, shaking the phone. "If this thing gets lost, you’re finished."

Irene pouted playfully. "You think I don't know computers? I have a file shredder installed."

"Alright, as you wish." Wang Zhuo shrugged. If the precautions were that thorough, there was no reason not to take them!

So, he brightened the room lights, settled back into position, and now the throbbing peak of his veins became Irene’s "model"—or perhaps "prop." Whatever it was, it was interesting and stimulating. Take the pictures!

He recalled his younger days when Wang Zhuo couldn't understand Edison Chen, thinking, "Is that stuff really that interesting?" All of his work followed that route; why couldn't he shoot some photos of real action? Later, Wang Zhuo learned that "that stuff really is interesting," capable of keeping men happily occupied. Even later, he understood the different kind of pleasure photography could bring, and now the stored photos on his phone were growing steadily.

Today, Irene taught him another lesson: women don't just like looking in mirrors; they are also very concerned with their appearance while serving their men. Perhaps Irene just wanted to see how well she performed, or maybe she was curious, or perhaps she wanted to compare it to scenes in adult films. In any case, she had ample reason to ask Wang Zhuo to photograph her. Of course, if Wang Zhuo had wanted to use his own phone to take a couple of souvenir shots, she would have politely refused—that was a matter of principle!

Posing in every conceivable position, shooting from every angle—it was a marvelous night. Wang Zhuo savored the pleasure of a king in the dark. His very first trip abroad yielded this surprise gift from the British hostess, and Lady Luck favored him once more.

Good deeds are rewarded... As he leaned back against the sofa, enjoying the devoted ministrations of the blonde girl kneeling before him, he reaffirmed a conviction: he must persist in learning from Lei Feng and doing more good deeds!

...

The grateful girl departed, the lingering flush of passion still coloring her cheeks.

Watching her disappear into the silhouette of the black Rolls-Royce, Wang Zhuo couldn't help but laugh softly. Even Irene would probably find this day utterly unbelievable: nearly losing her life sightseeing, only to end up in a spiritual and sensual exchange during a casual visit!

The photos on the phone had been thoroughly erased using the file shredder; Wang Zhuo felt reassured, and so did Irene. But their peace of mind was based on trusting that file shredder program, a foundation that was not as solid as they imagined.

Much had happened this day. While Wang Zhuo was entrusting his pleasures to the British hostess to savor and taste, the outside world had erupted. A sensational, self-revealing news story had caused the London servers of Facebook to crash.

After logging in, Irene’s accompanying staff copied the video footage from Zhao Yu and several others who were fortunate enough to capture the perilous moment. Under Irene’s direction, the footage was edited. By the time Irene left the residence to secretly head to the hotel where Wang Zhuo was staying, a series of photos and video files had been uploaded and posted to Irene's Facebook page and blog site.

As the two turned off their phones to indulge in tender intimacy, Facebook buckled under the massive traffic surge, and major websites that promptly reposted the related news were inundated with an overwhelming response.

Those who initially questioned if it was an elaborate publicity stunt quickly fell silent after viewing the video. Malicious parties continued to insist that Irene had used a body double during the fall into the sea, while many more celebrated Irene's miraculous survival and expressed gratitude to the anonymous "Mr. China" who had done a good deed without leaving his name.