Chapter 30
Zhou Ger had a vegetable plot at the western end of the village, and his family relied entirely on selling vegetables for income. He tended to it diligently every day.
Earlier, Zhao Ger had taken Guaizai to Aunt Liu’s house to ask around. Upon hearing Zhou Ger wasn’t there, they came here instead.
Zhou Ger was surprised to see him. "Zhao Ger, what brings you here?"
Guaizai clutched his chest and looked around. Only after Zhao Ger patted him did he ask, "Uncle Zhou, where’s Liuliu?"
"Over there!" Zhou Ger pointed in a direction.
It was a small, open area below the grain-drying field—quite spacious and a favorite play spot for the village children.
Guaizai looked up at Zhao Ger, eyes full of expectation. Zhao Ger smiled. "Go on!"
"Thank you, Daddy."
Zhou Ger watched as the little boy stumbled and ran toward the grain-drying field, amused. "What’s gotten into him today? He usually never wants to leave your side."
"My husband bought him some candied fruit. He said he wanted to share it with Liuliu, so he dragged me here."
Candied fruit was expensive, yet Fang Zichen didn’t hesitate to buy it. Zhou Ger sighed. "Your husband treats Guaizai so well, no different from his own flesh and blood."
Zhao Ger didn’t respond.
Fang Zichen truly did treat Guaizai well.
A few years ago, Widow Meng from Xiaorong Village had married Liu Gouzi from their village. Liu Gouzi treated her son horribly—beating him, cursing him, and even withholding food. A few times, Zhao Ger had passed by their house and heard him yelling in the yard, saying things like, "He’s not my own, so raising him is pointless. It’s bad luck to raise another man’s son."
Whenever Liu Gouzi’s family bought meat, they would chase the boy outside without letting him have a single bite. Fang Zichen was nothing like that. Despite living in a rundown house with barely any decent furniture, whenever he had money, he’d haul food home without ever complaining that Guaizai ate too much.
About nine children had gathered at the grain-drying field, building houses out of mud.
Liuliu stood far off to the side, watching.
He and Guaizai were always excluded by the other village kids. Aunt Liu’s family was poor, and before, Guaizai had lived like a slave under the Ma family. Both boys belonged to the lowest class in the village, naturally shunned by the middle and upper-class children.
Guaizai ran a short distance, his little face flushed.
"Liuliu!"
Liuliu brightened and walked over. "Guaizai, what are you doing here?"
"I wanna give you something good." Clutching his chest, Guaizai pulled Liuliu behind a tree. After making sure no one was looking, he took out the oil-paper-wrapped candied fruit.
Liuliu had never seen candied fruit before. "What’s this?"
"Yummy food," Guaizai said. After breakfast, when Fang Zichen had left, he’d given Zhao Ger two pieces. Now, only three remained in the packet.
"Here’s one for you. It’s super sweet."
Liuliu hesitated until Guaizai stuffed one into his mouth. His eyes widened instantly.
"It really is sweet!"
"Mm! Father bought it." Guaizai carefully rewrapped the last two pieces and tucked them back into his clothes. Then, a voice came from behind.
"What are you eating?"
It was Ma Erzhu’s youngest son, eight years old and stocky. Guaizai only came up to his chest. Having been beaten by Ma Xiaoshun a few times before at the Ma family, Guaizai instinctively felt afraid. He lowered his head and covered his chest. "N-nothing."
"Liar! I can smell it. Tell me, what were you eating?"
Guaizai stayed silent. Just as Liuliu was about to step forward, Ma Xiaoshun yanked at Guaizai’s clothes. "Is it hidden in there, you little bastard? How dare you lie to me? Hand it over!"
"No! It’s mine!"
Guaizai staggered, nearly falling. Liuliu couldn’t just stand by and watch his friend get bullied, so he pushed at Ma Xiaoshun, trying to make him let go.
But Ma Xiaoshun was "big and strong." After a few failed pushes, Liuliu was shoved back instead, landing hard on the ground.
"...Liuliu!!" Even a clay figure has a temper! Guaizai got angry. Chanting his battle cry, he clenched his tiny fist and struck like lightning at Ma Xiaoshun’s stomach.
"Ultraman fights monsters! Ultraman fights monsters!"
Ma Xiaoshun froze, as if unable to believe that the little bastard he always bullied would dare fight back. Only after the punch landed did he snap out of it.
"You little bastard, how dare you hit me!" He shoved Guaizai to the ground, climbed on top of him, and started tearing at his clothes with both hands. "You’re still hiding stuff? I’ll beat you to death!"
Guaizai struggled to flip onto his stomach, curling up tightly to protect his chest, refusing to let Ma Xiaoshun succeed.
Liuliu scrambled up and ran for help. By the time Zhao Ger arrived, his son’s clothes were nearly ripped to shreds, his small body curled up on the ground while Ma Xiaoshun stood over him, still cursing.
"Little bastard, hand it over or I’ll keep kicking you!"
____
When Fang Zichen got home, he immediately sensed something was wrong.
The courtyard gate was open, but the house was eerily quiet.
As he got closer, he heard faint sobbing.
It was coming from their bedroom. He rushed inside to find his son sitting on the edge of the bed—a tiny, huddled figure, head bowed as he sniffled softly. Zhao Ger was crouched in front of him.
"What happened?"
Guaizai looked up, eyes swimming with tears. "...Father~"
The skin on the back of his hand had been scraped raw, tiny pebbles embedded in the bloody flesh. His hair was a mess. Fang Zichen remembered this outfit was newly made—Guaizai had treasured it, always careful not to dirty it while playing. Now, it was wrinkled, dirty, and even had a few footprints on it.
"He got beaten up," Zhao Ger said, his own eyes red as he explained what happened.
"..."
Fang Zichen’s expression was indescribable.
Here he was, rubbing people’s faces in the dirt in town, while his son got rubbed into the dirt in the village.
Was this karma?
Zhao Ger went out to fetch water. Fang Zichen pulled up a stool and sat in front of Guaizai.
"Does it hurt?"
"Mm!" Guaizai hung his head, his injured hand trembling uncontrollably.
Fang Zichen held his wrist and leaned in to blow on it gently. "Why were you fighting?"
"He tried to steal my stuff. I wouldn’t give it, so he hit me." Guaizai looked utterly wronged.
Fang Zichen was puzzled.
Guaizai didn’t even have half a toy. What could Ma Xiaoshun possibly want to steal from him?
Just as he was about to ask, Guaizai used his less-injured hand to pull out the oil paper from his clothes and held it out. "Father, here~"
"Candied fruit?"
"Mm." Guaizai nodded.
"Why are you giving this to me?" Fang Zichen took it and unwrapped it. Only two pieces remained, now squashed flat.
"Why give it to Father? Father doesn’t even eat this."
"It’s yummy," Guaizai said. "Super, super sweet. Daddy eats, Guaizai eats, and Father eats too."
Fang Zichen’s chest tightened with an indescribable feeling. At eighteen, he was full of youthful passion—sympathy for the weak, anger at injustice, loyalty to friends—but fatherly love was something beyond his years.
Yet hearing Guaizai’s words made his eyes sting.
"Your dad said you gave him two pieces, gave me two, and gave one to Liuliu. So you only ate one?"
"Mm!"
"Doesn’t that make you sad?"
Guaizai glanced at the candied fruit in Fang Zichen’s hand, then quickly looked away. "Guaizai is small. One is enough. Father is big, needs lots and lots."
Zhao Ger came back with water, cleaned Guaizai’s hand, and used a needle to pick out the tiny pebbles embedded in the flesh.
The whole process must have hurt, but Guaizai didn’t make a sound. Tears the size of beans rolled down his cheeks as he quietly sniffled, only letting out tiny gasps when the pain got too much.
Fang Zichen couldn’t help, so he hovered nearby, constantly urging, "Zhao Ger, be gentler. Ah, my son’s crying! Be gentler!"
Zhao Ger didn’t respond. When Fang Zichen kept nagging, he simply handed him the needle, suggesting mildly, "Maybe you should do it."
Every time the needle pricked, Guaizai’s hand flinched. Zhao Ger’s heart ached too much—he couldn’t bear to continue.
Fang Zichen waved his hands frantically. "No, no, you do it!"
That needle was tiny. If he tried, his son’s hand would probably end up full of holes.
After what felt like forever, they finally finished. Guaizai’s eyes were swollen from crying.
Fang Zichen coaxed him, "How about you take a nap? When you wake up, it won’t hurt as much."
Guaizai nodded, letting out a soft, nasal "Mm."
Fang Zichen crouched to take off his shoes. The little feet in his hands weren’t even as long as his palms—pale and tender, with round little toes like five glutinous rice balls lined up in order of size. They were kind of cute.
Guaizai wiggled his toes, tickling Fang Zichen’s palm. Licking his lips, Fang Zichen playfully growled like a monster. "Ooooh, what delicious little pig trotters! I wanna take a bite~"
Guaizai tried to pull his foot back, but Fang Zichen held on tight. As Fang Zichen opened his mouth and slowly leaned in, Guaizai forgot his pain and fear, squealing in excitement.
"Feet stinky! Monster no eat, monster no eat! Daddy, help~"
"Hm?" Fang Zichen sniffed, then dramatically covered his nose. "Ugh! Why’s it so stinky?! No, I’m gonna puke—bleh!" He mimed vomiting, as if genuinely disgusted.
Guaizai, as if discovering a new game, giggled and kept shoving his foot toward Fang Zichen’s nose, shouting gleefully,
"Stink monster to death! Stink monster to death!"
"Nooo~"
Fang Zichen stood up, swayed dramatically, and collapsed onto the bed. After a final twitch, he delivered his last words:
"Urk… Monster got stink-dead. Ultraman wins again."
Guaizai crawled over and sprawled on his chest, laughing uncontrollably.
Zhao Ger could hear them from the yard. Just moments ago, Guaizai had been a pitiful little mess—now he was playing like nothing happened. He couldn’t help but smile.
Guaizai was still young, his mind quick to forget. After some play, he fell asleep, carefree as ever.
His tiny hands rested loosely by his head. Fang Zichen made sure they weren’t pressing on his wounds before finally standing up to leave.
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