Chapter 27
Fang Zichen counted out six candied fruits, then rewrapped the oil paper and stuffed it into Guaizai's hands: "Save them to eat slowly. Don’t finish them all at once, or your teeth will rot."
Guaizai held them in both hands. Sweet things were irresistibly tempting to children, and since Guaizai had never tasted them before, he was utterly delighted, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the treats, unable to look away. He nodded repeatedly like a pecking chick.
"I know."
Fang Zichen stood up and walked over to Zhao Ger: "Here, six for each of you—fair and square."
Zhao Ger didn’t take them: "You eat them. These things are expensive." Just the thoughtfulness alone was enough to satisfy him.
"I don’t eat these," Fang Zichen said. "Eating candied fruit isn’t manly."
Zhao Ger: "..."
Fang Zichen: "These are for you and Guaizai. Take them. It’s only six, don’t be reluctant. When I make big money later, I’ll buy you whole baskets of them to eat."
These things really were expensive.
Fang Zichen felt a little embarrassed. At noon, after overhearing the shop assistant’s words outside, he had impulsively gone in on a whim.
Back when he was still the Third Young Master Fang, he had been so extravagant that he could eat one and throw away another without a care. But now, his pockets were empty, and he could only afford to buy candied fruits by the piece.
Zhao Ger took them and asked, "You’re not angry anymore?"
He was referring to the incident with Liu Laizi.
Fang Zichen had long since gotten over it, but seeing Zhao Ger’s cautious and uneasy expression, he couldn’t resist teasing him.
"Praise me, and I won’t be mad at you anymore."
Zhao Ger frowned, thought seriously for a moment, and after a long pause, managed: "...You’re very good-looking."
"Is that supposed to be praise? You’re just stating a fact." Fang Zichen waved his hand. "Try again."
Zhao Ger hesitated slightly: "You have a good temper."
"Everyone knows that. Next."
"You’re very tall."
"Anyone with eyes can see that. Doesn’t count."
Zhao Ger coughed twice, not daring to look at him, a little unnatural: "Your skin is very fair, and your eyes are very pretty."
"That kind of praise would suit you better," Fang Zichen said helplessly. "You can’t praise people like this."
"Then how should I praise you?"
"You have to tailor it to the person! I’m a man—what’s the use of praising me for having fair skin and good looks? You should say I’m well-endowed and skilled in bed."
Zhao Ger: "..."
The words carried a flirtatious undertone, and given their current situation, it was also a little awkward.
Seeing Zhao Ger’s expression shift, Fang Zichen rubbed his nose and looked up at the sky: "...Ah, the weather’s nice today, huh?"
Zhao Ger stared at him without speaking.
Fang Zichen laughed awkwardly: "What’s for dinner tonight? I’ll go take a look in the kitchen." Then he hurried off in a rush.
Zhao Ger pressed his lips together, his ears slowly turning red. Watching Fang Zichen flee in a fluster, he couldn’t help but laugh.
Zhao Ger’s cooking skills were still quite good.
The pork skin was boiled until tender, then cut into small pieces and mixed with fish mint, minced garlic, and scallions. Regardless of the taste, the presentation alone was appetizing.
At the dinner table, Zhao Ger picked up a bite with his chopsticks and noticed Fang Zichen staring fixedly at the pork without moving to eat.
"Why aren’t you eating?"
Fish mint was one of those things—some people loved it to death, while others felt their stomachs churn at the mere smell.
Fang Zichen thought the dish smelled strange—not exactly fragrant, but not exactly foul either.
He just didn’t know how to describe it.
Guaizai stood on his little stool, picking up a bite with his chopsticks. The fish mint was chopped finely, making it hard to grip, so he cupped one hand beneath the chopsticks. The bits that fell into his palm were quickly slurped up.
His eyes curved into crescents, his face full of satisfaction.
Here we go again, Fang Zichen thought.
Guaizai’s expression made it seem like he was eating some kind of luxurious seafood.
Seeing how much he was enjoying it, Fang Zichen swallowed hard and couldn’t resist asking: "Guaizai, is it good?"
Guaizai blinked, then looked up with a smile: "It’s yummy."
Fang Zichen felt like he was being pranked. He still didn’t believe it.
Zhao Ger smiled: "Can’t get used to it? Sorry, everyone in our village loves this dish. I... Zhou Ger gave us some cabbage. Should I stir-fry a new dish for you?"
"No need." Fang Zichen shook his head, his gaze returning to the bowl.
Maybe this thing was like stinky tofu—smelled bad but tasted great.
He tentatively picked up a bite with his chopsticks...
Huh. Actually delicious.
In the end, he said: "I want to eat this again tomorrow."
Perhaps because he’d eaten well, Fang Zichen slept soundly that night.
Zhao Ger was used to waking up before dawn. Outside, the sky was still dim, and the village roosters were crowing incessantly.
Maybe it was paternal instinct, but Guaizai was especially clingy to Fang Zichen. He used to sleep properly, but now, after a night, he’d end up sprawled on Fang Zichen’s chest like a little turtle.
Fang Zichen had once complained that it felt like being haunted by a sleep paralysis demon.
Zhao Ger carefully lifted Guaizai off, covered him with an old coat, and stepped over Fang Zichen to get out of bed—all without making a sound.
But just as he finished washing his face in the kitchen and was about to knead the dough, Fang Zichen walked in, yawning.
...A rare occurrence.
Fang Zichen noticed him staring and asked: "Why are you looking at me like that? Did you realize I’ve gotten even handsomer?"
He had rubbed his eyes and confirmed there was no sleep gunk in them.
"Why are you up so early today?" Zhao Ger asked.
He knew Fang Zichen had a habit of sleeping in—a severe one.
Back when he had to go to work in town, he had repeatedly instructed Zhao Ger: "You have to wake me up in the morning! Whether our family eats well or not, whether I can keep this job, it all depends on you!"
He had spoken so seriously that Zhao Ger had taken it to heart.
At first, Zhao Ger thought: How bad could it be? If he doesn’t wake up the first time, surely he will the second.
But Fang Zichen was something else. No matter how many times Zhao Ger called him, whether whispering in his left ear or right, Fang Zichen would always mumble, "Just five more minutes..."
Zhao Ger had no idea what "five minutes" even meant or how long it was supposed to be, but he had certainly learned just how stubborn Fang Zichen could be about sleeping in.
For him to wake up this early without being called was nothing short of a miracle.
"Are you feeling unwell?" Zhao Ger asked tentatively, a hint of worry creeping into his voice.
Fang Zichen rolled his eyes: "Don’t curse me first thing in the morning!"
Zhao Ger watched as he washed his face, then went to the room to retrieve the wooden stick he had brought back last time. Without a word, Fang Zichen headed outside.
"Where are you going? I’m about to start cooking the noodles."
Fang Zichen didn’t turn back, just raised a hand and waved: "You two eat first. Don’t wait for me."
Most of the villagers in Xiaohe Village shared the surname He. The village was small—out of ten families, eight were distantly related.
He Daleng’s family was among the better-off in the village. In the morning, his wife cooked him a few sweet potatoes—this was considered decent. Those worse off only ate two meals a day.
No one dared to live as extravagantly as Fang Zichen’s family. If the villagers found out they ate wheat noodles at every meal, Fang Zichen would definitely become the talk of the village again.
After eating the sweet potatoes, He Daleng hoisted his hoe and headed for the fields when a voice called out from behind.
"Uncle, wait a moment."
He Daleng turned: "Fang boy?" His eyes landed on the wooden stick resting on Fang Zichen’s shoulder, and his speech grew hesitant.
"Y-you need something?"
Fang Zichen smiled, radiating gentleness: "I wanted to ask for directions to Liu Laizi’s house."
The news of Liu Laizi harassing Zhao Ger the day before had already spread through the village. He Daleng immediately understood.
This was Zhao Ger’s man going to settle the score.
"I know, I know," He Daleng said helpfully, pointing. "Follow this path, turn left at the little poplar tree, then keep going. The house with the jujube tree in the yard is Liu Laizi’s."
"Thanks, Uncle."
"Don’t mention it, we’re all fellow villagers!"
After Fang Zichen left, a few people gathered around He Daleng.
"That was Fang boy, right? What did he say to you? Carrying that stick, I thought he was going to hit you!"
"Why would he hit me? I didn’t do anything to him."
"Then what did he say?"
"He asked where Liu Laizi lives."
"Oh no, is he going to beat someone up again? Let’s go take a look."
The group abandoned their farm work and marched straight to Liu Laizi’s house.
After being chased three miles yesterday by the rabid-dog-like Liu Dazhi, Liu Laizi had been exhausted. He was still fast asleep when a loud BANG! erupted outside.
He Daleng and the others watched as Fang Zichen, stick resting on his shoulder, arrived at Liu Laizi’s courtyard gate. He peered inside, as if confirming something, then kicked the gate open and swaggered in like a debt collector.
"Liu Laizi home? If you’re here, get the hell out here right now!"
Liu Laizi yanked the door open, scowling: "Who the hell are you?"
"Fang Zichen. Zhao Ger’s man. Nice to meet you."
Liu Laizi froze.
"W-what do you want?"
"Nothing much. Just here to have a little chat about life... and ideals."
Liu Laizi had no interest in discussing life or ideals.
He Er’gou had once said Fang Zichen beat up Ma Dazhuang and his brothers—that he was terrifying in a fight. At the time, Liu Laizi hadn’t paid much attention, even dismissing it. But a few days ago, when Fang Zichen stormed the Ma household, he had been right outside!
"What, not going to invite me in for a seat?"
Liu Laizi had only opened the door halfway. Hearing this, his first instinct was to slam it shut.
Fang Zichen snorted and charged forward.
He Daleng watched as Fang Zichen shoved Liu Laizi aside, stepped inside, and then closed the door behind him.
"What’s going on? Why’d he close the door? Should we... go take a look?"
Before he could finish, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the air.
Then a second.
Then a third.
He Daleng and the others shuddered involuntarily.
Heavens!
Even the pigs slaughtered at the village chief’s house during New Year hadn’t screamed this horribly.
Whatever inhumane treatment Liu Laizi was enduring, his cries were so wretched they made everyone’s scalps prickle.
The door was pushed open from the inside. Liu Laizi, bruised and battered, tried to crawl out—only for a pale, sinewy hand to grab his ankle and yank him back in.
The door slammed shut again.
He Daleng and the others: "..."
No comments:
Post a Comment