Chapter 36
In the end, they didn’t do it. Fang Zichen went out to bathe again.
Zhao Ger coaxed Guaizai to sleep, hesitating for a moment before asking, “Why did you suddenly wake up?”
Unless he needed to pee at night, Guaizai usually slept soundly until dawn.
Guaizai pressed close to him, gripping his clothes, his voice drowsy: “Bed moved, noisy noisy!”
Fang Zichen hadn’t come back in yet, but Guaizai mustered his energy to ask, “Where’s father?”
“He went to bathe,” Zhao Ger said.
“I want to wait for father to sleep together.”
“Be good and sleep first. Tomorrow you can wake up and play with father, okay?”
“Oh!”
He waited until the child was asleep before Fang Zichen finally came in.
Zhao Ger had noticed him standing outside the door long ago—probably too embarrassed to come in, afraid Guaizai would pester him with questions.
But he had only guessed half of it.
Fang Zichen now felt awkward facing him too.
Not even knowing about the instinctive act of procreation, it was downright damaging to a man’s pride.
Before falling asleep, Fang Zichen hazily pondered a profound question.
Are gers the same as women? Where do you stick it in?
The next day, Zhao Ger called for him repeatedly before Fang Zichen sluggishly got up.
He needed to arrive at work during the chenshi (7-9 am), so he had to depart during the maoshi (5-7 am).
Zhao Ger had cooked porridge, adding some leftover fried pork fat from last night, along with a pinch of salt and chopped scallions. The aroma was mouthwatering.
Noise came from the room—Guaizai must have woken up.
Remembering the scare from last night, Fang Zichen just wanted to smack the kid’s butt twice.
Zhao Ger led him in by the hand. Rubbing his eyes, Guaizai still seemed groggy even after washing his face, lacking energy—until the next second, when he saw Fang Zichen and immediately grinned.
"Father~"
Fang Zichen caught his son as he rushed over. Seeing the boy’s beaming face, he couldn’t bring himself to give him those two slaps he’d been considering.
Zhao Ger served him half a bowl of porridge. Fang Zichen thought for a moment and said, "From now on, fry two eggs in the morning."
There were still six eggs left at home. Zhao Ger thought he wanted to eat them and nodded, about to agree, when Fang Zichen added, "One for you, one for our little rascal."
Zhao Ger shook his head. "I don’t need one."
"Why not? Look how thin you are. Last night, cough, I thought I was lying on top of the White Bone Spirit."
[白骨精 (Báigǔjīng): white Bone Spirit, a seductive demon from Journey to the West, often used to describe someone dangerously thin]
Zhao Ger flushed at the mention of last night.
"Don’t talk about that here, Guaizai is still around!"
Fang Zichen shrugged. "He wouldn’t understand anyway."
"What?" Guaizai lifted his head from his bowl, eyes wide.
"Eat up," Fang Zichen pinched his cheek. "Be careful, it’s hot."
Guaizai suddenly stopped, jumped down from the stool, and pattered over to Fang Zichen. Standing on tiptoe, he blew on the porridge in Fang Zichen’s bowl.
Such a filial child.
But...
Fang Zichen’s face turned sour. Zhao Ger, watching from the side, stifled a laugh and patted Guaizai. "Alright, your father can blow on it himself. Go back and finish your porridge."
Guaizai looked up at Fang Zichen, his eyes asking: Don’t you need my help blowing on it?
Fang Zichen pinched his butt. "Listen to your dad."
Guaizai covered his little butt, dejected. "Oh~"
Fang Zichen stirred his porridge and chuckled. "This porridge was already thin enough. Add another two taels of spit, and I won’t even be able to see the rice grains."
Zhao Ger, worried he’d dislike it, said, "Do you want to swap?"
"No need," Fang Zichen slurped a mouthful. "Hey, you know what? A little extra spit actually makes it taste better."
"......"
Always fooling around.
Fang Zichen left for work, but Zhao Ger wasn’t idle either. The water at home was running low, so he took two buckets and a carrying pole to fetch some from the river.
Most villagers carried their own water. Only a few well-off families paid professionals to dig wells.
Digging a well wasn’t a job for amateurs.
The Ma family had once considered digging one in their yard, but since they had Zhao Ger, they didn't want to waste the money. Now that they wanted one, they couldn’t afford it.
Today, it was Madam Ma’s turn to fetch water. After more than a decade without labor, she could barely manage half-filled buckets, struggling even to lift the pole.
Seeing Zhao Ger, she thought of Ma Wen, who’d been so lovesick over this worthless ger that he skipped work. It infuriated her.
She spat at Zhao Ger’s back and muttered, "Trash."
She didn’t lower her voice, and Zhao Ger paused mid-step before turning around.
"What are you looking at? I wasn’t scolding you," Madam Ma said.
Zhao Ger: "Then who were you scolding?"
"Whoever’s trash, that’s who."
"Oh," Zhao Ger said coldly. "Why insult yourself like that? At least you’re self-aware."
"You—"
"Mother~" Ma Wen approached from behind her.
Knowing Ma Wen would side with Zhao Ger—ever since returning, Ma Wen had grown distant over this very issue—Madam Ma didn’t dare say more. She just urged, "What are you doing out here? Go back inside."
Her buckets were now less than half full, having spilled most of their contents. Ma Wen took the pole from her shoulders. "Mother, go home first. I’ll fetch the water for you."
The riverside was empty at this hour, but Zhao Ger was still there. Madam Ma wasn’t happy.
"No need. Let’s go back. We can fetch water in the afternoon."
Zhao Ger had already left by the time Ma Wen arrived, his figure nearly out of sight. Ma Wen hastily said, "Mother, you go ahead," and hurried after him.
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