Chapter 9: Past Events
Zhao Ger was also a bit dazed. Fang Zichen frowned, looking at the spot on his chest where he had been hit—still smudged with bits of mud. He seemed to be deep in thought, visibly unhappy.
Zhao Ger grew anxious, his heart pounding. He was just about to open his mouth to apologize when, unexpectedly, Fang Zichen once again defied expectations.
"You threw a rock at me from so far away. If I’d been standing right in front of you, would you have just slapped me instead?"
Zhao Ger secretly sighed in relief: "......That wasn’t a rock."
A rock could kill someone.
"And yet you still did it," Fang Zichen brushed off the mud. "Don’t they say around here that 'the husband is greater than heaven'? How dare you hit me! Absolutely lawless."
Having hit him once, Zhao Ger seemed to have gained some boldness. Seeing that Fang Zichen didn’t seem truly angry, he pointed at the clump of dirt which was still intact after hitting its target, lying at Fang Zichen’s feet and argued, "It was that thing that hit you, not me."
"Oh, ohoho!" Fang Zichen hadn’t expected the previously obedient, timid Zhao Ger to suddenly pull such a stunt. Like a rogue spotting a beauty, he circled Zhao Ger once, scrutinizing him up and down. Zhao Ger tensed under his gaze, his fingers gripping the hoe so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Only when Zhao Ger was on the verge of cracking did Fang Zichen finally speak: "If you’re this good at shifting blame, you might as well be called 'Blame Ger' instead of Zhao Ger."
"You were the one spouting nonsense first," Zhao Ger muttered under his breath.
Fang Zichen, standing close, heard him: "When did I spout nonsense?"
"You said, you said..." Zhao Ger couldn’t bring himself to repeat it.
He was too embarrassed to mimic it.
First calling it a "little bird," then a "little brother"—wasn’t that nonsense? And on top of that, insinuating that he was the perverted one!
And now he was pretending innocence.
"See? You can’t even say it yourself," Fang Zichen said. "Next time you dare throw a rock at me—"
"It wasn’t a rock."
"I don’t care what it was. If you dare hit me again, I’ll hit back." Fang Zichen threatened, trying hard to salvage his dignity. "You were there when I beat up Ma Dazhuang and the others. When I hit someone...tsk, it’s truly something to behold." He pinched Zhao Ger’s thin arm, so frail it seemed like a light squeeze could snap it. "With just one punch, I could knock down ten of you. And that’s not an exaggeration or a boast."
Zhao Ger, as if he’d truly grown a spine, said, "But that day, you told the village chief that you don’t hit women or ger."
So that’s why you’re acting so bold?
Fang Zichen choked for a second before replying with a roguish grin, "Ah, that’s why women and ger are so naive. A man’s words are a devil’s lies, only a fool would believe them."
Zhao Ger seemed to have an obstinate trust in him and didn’t buy it, but he still asked, "So would you really hit me?"
Fang Zichen couldn’t be bothered to argue. Instead, he suddenly smacked Zhao Ger’s backside - whack! The sound crisp and loud. "What are you standing around for? Ugh, if you don’t get back to work, see if I don’t beat you to death."
"Give you an inch, and you’ll take a mile."
Zhao Ger: "......"
Zhao Ger’s face instantly flushed crimson, steam practically rising from his head as his entire body burned. He twisted away and hurriedly put distance between himself and Fang Zichen, moving to the other side of the field.
Fang Zichen assumed he’d finally scared him and felt secretly pleased.
Just yesterday, Zhao Ger had been so nervous around him he could barely stand being in the same space. And now, after just one day, he was bold enough to throw dirt at him? If this continued, would he be stabbing him next?
Fang Zichen was no pushover.
Last time, when he’d saved Zhao Ger and ended up getting hit for no reason, he’d wanted to retaliate on the spot. But seeing it was a woman, he’d held back. While it was true he never laid hands on the weak, elderly, women, or ger, a little intimidation was still fair game.
Coming from the modern era, he hadn’t given much thought to the future, but he also didn’t believe in controlling Zhao Ger, making him orbit around him and report his every move. People were born free. Marriage shouldn’t mean trapping someone in a cage. The ideal dynamic was one partner being strong-willed and the other gentle and accommodating. If both were domineering, they’d just end up bickering every day, with frequent trips to the hospital.
Now that Zhao Ger was showing signs of rebellion, daring to act out and even throw things, he couldn’t let it slide. He had to nip it in the bud. Otherwise, if things escalated to the point where he couldn’t even discipline him, how were they supposed to live together?
Fang Zichen finished gathering the sweet potatoes he’d dug up earlier and headed over to Zhao Ger’s side.
Guaizai had already been tricked into napping under a tree.
Standing behind Zhao Ger, Fang Zichen’s steps faltered as he caught sight of the sunburnt nape of Zhao Ger’s neck, glistening with sweat.
Zhao Ger was truly small and thin. His ill-fitting clothes hung loosely on his frame, now clinging damply to his slightly protruding spine as he bent forward, his shoulder blades becoming more pronounced with each movement.
When the Ma family had caused a scene before, the village chief had told Fang Zichen about Zhao Ger’s past.
Zhao Ger had been sold to the Ma family at the age of seven, he was originally meant to be a child bride for Ma Dazhuang’s second son, Ma Tao - a boy born with intellectual disabilities. The plan was for Zhao Ger to grow up and marry him, taking care of him. But Ma Tao drowned at the age of ten.
Back then, the Ma family’s circumstances were still decent, but they didn’t want to keep feeding an extra mouth. They considered selling Zhao Ger again, but Ma Wen - Ma Dazhuang’s eldest son, threw a fit, insisting he liked Zhao Ger and refusing to let them sell him.
Ma Wen was the favorite, evident from how his and his brother’s names (Ma Tao (涛: waves) and Ma Wen (汶: river)) stood out among the village kids’ nicknames like "Gouzi (dog child)," "Niudan (ox egg)," "Dahu (big tiger)," and "Erwa (second chile)." With Ma Wen blocking the sale, Ma Dazhuang had no choice but to relent.
However, there was an old saying: "The wealthy do not marry ger." Though the Ma family wasn’t rich, they still put on airs, telling outsiders that Zhao Ger was just Ma Wen’s concubine.
A concubine in a poor family was no different from a slave. The Ma family was inherently cruel, treating Zhao Ger like livestock, berating and beating him at every turn. The villagers all saw it. Even if they lied through their teeth, none could claim the Ma family had treated Zhao Ger well.
The village chief sighed deeply as he spoke, saying Zhao Ger had endured a great deal. Most others would have drowned themselves in the river long ago.
And it was true.
Twelve years of abuse would twist anyone’s personality beyond recognition. Facing endless whippings and curses day after day, who’d want to keep living?
The village chief lamented, but Fang Zichen, having grown up sheltered, couldn’t even imagine such a life. People who suffer long-term abuse usually become insecure, introverted, fearful yet unstable, timid and weak-willed - some even grow emotionally numb or mentally impaired. But he felt Zhao Ger was resilient, like a vine growing in a dark well. Unafraid of the darkness, it would climb toward any sliver of light.
Zhao Ger’s temperament was still decent. Otherwise, Fang Zichen would’ve worried that one day, over a single word or incident, he might wake up to a knife in his gut.
Fang Zichen kept staring intently, and even Zhao Ger - normally so slow to notice things, eventually became aware of it, growing inexplicably flustered. His hoe strokes became clumsier, and after nearly striking his own foot for the sixth time, he finally turned around and asked, "W-why are you staring at me?"
"Because you’re beautiful," Fang Zichen blurted out without thinking.
Zhao Ger pressed his lips together, about to retort that his face wasn’t on his back, when Fang Zichen suddenly backpedaled, his mouth running off again: "Which eye of yours saw me looking at you?"
Then, derailing completely: "Your asshole?"
Zhao Ger: "......"
Was this really a young master raised in a wealthy family?
How could his mouth be so foul?
Even the village men probably couldn’t compare
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