The Ma family had raised him, but Zhao Ger later became the Ma family’s fulang and even gave birth to a grandson for them. Considering the years of expenses spent raising him, treating it as bride price wasn’t too much, was it?
Fang Zichen felt sick to his stomach.
He spread his hands and said, "Then what should I do? Right now, I’m so clean you couldn’t even find a fly standing on me. Where am I supposed to get three taels of silver for them?"
The ger who had rushed into the yard earlier to beg Fang Zichen saw him wavering but now hesitating again. Afraid he might back out over the three taels, he hurried to Zhao Ger’s side and gently nudged him. "Zhao Ger, go beg Young Master Fang. Only he can help you now. Go plead with him."
Zhao Ger stood frozen. Just as the ger was about to urge him again, he heard him murmur in confusion, "That much silver… would he really agree?"
Xiaohe Village was notoriously poor. Three taels might not sound like much, but some families couldn’t earn that in a whole year.
Over the years, despite enduring hunger and cold, Zhao Ger had secretly saved only thirty-some copper coins. A few days ago, when Guaizai fell ill, he had spent every last one. To him, three taels was an astronomical sum.
"I don’t know," the ger said. "But Young Master Fang seems decent. He already softened earlier. If not for yourself, think of Guaizai! He’s still so small. If you’re gone, the Ma family won’t keep him either."
Guaizai…
The name struck like a fatal blow.
Zhao Ger went cold from head to toe.
"Young Master," Zhao Ger didn’t dare hesitate any longer. Clinging to the last shred of hope, he pulled Guaizai forward and dropped to his knees with a thud. "…Please, help us just this once. I’ll work hard to earn the money back. I’ll repay you. I’ll serve you like an ox or a horse—just please, help us. I’m begging you."
Guaizai knelt close beside Zhao Ger, tiny palms pressed to the ground, mimicking in a childish voice, "…P’ease."
He was too young to grasp the meaning of "begging," or the weight of kneeling like this.
Fang Zichen’s gaze shifted between the father and son before finally settling on Zhao Ger.
Zhao Ger had a round face, his skin darkened from years of labor under the sun, but his features still looked youthful, even boyish—he couldn’t be older than seventeen or eighteen.
What were young men of that age like?
Fang Zichen knew well. They were stubborn, proud, fiercely protective of their dignity.
They’d rather be cursed at than utter a single "I’m sorry."
Unless pushed to the brink, they’d never bend their necks or bow their backs in compromise.
Zhao Ger wasn’t much older than him, yet here he was, kneeling on the ground as if stripped of all pride, repeating "please" over and over.
The Ma family had come early to make a scene. While Fang Zichen was trading barbs with Madam Ma, the second uncle's wife had said something to Zhao Ger. When he didn’t respond, she kicked and berated him, her words vile. Before, Fang Zichen had seen Zhao Ger standing motionless, like a wooden post.
Now, that same person - who hadn’t fought back even when beaten and insulted, was kneeling before him, forehead pressed to the ground, humbly pleading.
Just how desperate was he?
Had he reached the edge, with no way out?
Or was this his last, hopeless gamble?
To kneel, to discard dignity and shame—it must have been the only struggle left to him in his despair.
If his plea was refused, what awaited him?
Drowning in a pond? Or being sold off again?
The Ma family, who called him "bastard" at every turn, were capable of anything.
Ah…
Fang Zichen sighed in resignation.
"Village Chief," he said, "can you go talk to the Ma family for me? I’ll owe the silver for now, I can write an IOU. But tell them to prepare the divorce paper and Zhao Ger’s deed of sale. When I get the money, I’ll go exchange it with them."
The village chief nodded. "Alright, I’ll handle it."
Once the commotion died down, Zhao Ger and Guaizai remained kneeling. Fang Zichen walked over, his tone distant. "Get up."
Zhao Ger didn’t move.
Guaizai tugged lightly at his sleeve, giving it a small shake. "Daddy?"
Zhao Ger wiped his face, then finally pulled Guaizai to his feet.
Fang Zichen gave a few brief instructions before retreating to his room.
He was exhausted, drowsy, his head burning. He desperately needed sleep.
Lying on the bed with his eyes closed, Fang Zichen listened to the silence in the yard.
Somehow, the two people outside made no sound at all.
Fang Zichen didn’t know how long he slept, but when he woke, the sunlight outside was harsh. Hearing movement inside, Zhao Ger crouched to whisper something to Guaizai, who had been clinging to him. Guaizai nodded and headed for the house.
The door creaked open, and the tiny three-year-old child walked in.
He seemed nervous, keeping his head bowed as he shuffled from the doorway to the bed, his small hands fidgeting with the hem of his tattered clothing. When he accidentally met Fang Zichen's gaze, he immediately looked down again, shoulders hunched.
"F-Father…"
"……"
The title left Fang Zichen momentarily dazed.
He forced a smile. "Call me brother." To be blunt, he was practically still a kid himself.
At his words, Guaizai’s eyes reddened instantly. He had hoped for Fang Zichen’s affection. Now, looking up at him, he asked, "D’you… not like me? I’ll be good."
Fang Zichen had no experience with children, nor was his heart made of stone. Faced with Guaizai’s tearful, pleading gaze, Fang Zichen’s resistance crumbled instantly. "Fine, fine. Call me whatever you want. You can call me son if it makes you happy."
Guaizai wiped his tears, satisfied. Carefully, he reached out to take Fang Zichen’s hand. "Father, eat."
Until he mentioned it, Fang Zichen hadn’t realized he’d gone two meals without food. The moment eating was brought up, his stomach growled loudly.
Zhao Ger was waiting in the kitchen. On the worn stove sat a chipped bowl filled with a dark, murky porridge made from coarse grains and wild vegetables.
After Fang Zichen went back to sleep, Zhao Ger had mustered the courage to explore the house. He borrowed buckets from Aunt Liu to fill the water vat, then cleaned the kitchen and swept the yard.
He hoped that when Fang Zichen woke up and saw it all, he’d be pleased.
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