When Fang Zichen got home, the three of them sat around the kitchen fire, slurping down noodles.
Lately, with the money he’d earned, Fang Zichen had followed Zhao Ger’s advice and gradually bought things for the house—bowls, chopsticks, rice, flour. Zhao Ger even had the village carpenter make a washbasin and a few stools.
These small items were cheap, only a dozen or so copper coins each.
The noodles were plain, just a bit of oil and salt, hand-rolled by Zhao Ger. Fang Zichen ate them happily anyway.
Guaizai, already starving, nearly buried his face in the bowl as he slurped. The noodles were slippery, and he struggled to pick them up, so Fang Zichen took the bowl and fed him instead.
“Thank you, Father,” Guaizai said.
Seeing Fang Zichen care for Guaizai like this made Zhao Ger happy, but he also worried about tiring him out. Frowning, he said, “Let him eat by himself. You’ve been working hard all day at the dock.”
“It’s fine. I’m out all day, and this is the only time I get to spend with him. I want to bond more. Even if I’m just a stepfather, I’m a good one.”
Zhao Ger looked at him, his heart clenching. His fingers unconsciously rubbed the rim of his bowl.
“What’s wrong?” Fang Zichen asked, noticing his expression. “Did you just realize I got even handsomer today?”
“......”
“Nothing.” Zhao Ger shook his head, pushing down the emotion.
For a moment, he had wanted to ask Fang Zichen, "Don’t you remember?" But the words died on his tongue.
Fang Zichen was good to him, just not in the way he hoped. So some things were better left unsaid for now.
“Oh!” Fang Zichen suddenly said. “Go get the backpack. I bought some things.”
Zhao Ger fetched the backpack from the main room and brought it to the kitchen. Fang Zichen gestured for him to look inside. When Zhao Ger opened it, he found two bolts of fabric.
“This is...”
“I bought some cloth,” Fang Zichen said, feeding Guaizai another bite. “Make me a set of clothes with the indigo one. The dark blue is for you and Guaizai.”
Zhao Ger carefully touched the fabric. It was smooth and soft, far better than the rough cloth he usually wore. Most villagers made do with cheap, coarse fabric, patching and mending their clothes endlessly. This kind of material must have cost a fortune.
“You and Guaizai should have new clothes,” he said, gently placing the dark blue fabric back. “I don’t need any.”
“Why not?” Fang Zichen turned to him, the firelight casting a warm glow on his face. “You only have one set of clothes. I remember clearly, the Ma family didn’t let you bring anything when you left. The clothes you sleep in at night were given to you by Zhou Ger.”
“I only have one set too. Yesterday at work, someone asked me if I ever bathed because I never changed clothes. It was so embarrassing. And you’re laughing?” Fang Zichen glared at him. “Don’t laugh. I’m being serious here. Are you disrespecting me?”
Zhao Ger quickly lowered his eyes. “Sorry. Go on.”
His apology lacked sincerity, and Fang Zichen felt even more annoyed. In his distraction, he accidentally poked Guaizai’s nostril with the chopsticks.
“Father...”
“Ah! Sorry, sorry!” Fang Zichen frantically wiped Guaizai’s face, then pulled him into his lap to check if his little nose was hurt.
“Does it hurt? Let me blow on it. It’ll feel better.”
Watching this, Zhao Ger’s eyes reddened. He lowered his head and blinked hard, forcing back the heat in his eyes.
That night, Guaizai fell asleep almost instantly.
He had been running around with Zhao Ger all day, and after eating, sleep came easily. Zhao Ger tried to convince Fang Zichen to return the fabric, but Fang Zichen wasn’t happy.
He had spent ages picking out those two bolts, haggling with the shopkeeper for half the day. He’d wanted to surprise Zhao Ger, and now Zhao Ger didn’t even want it?
Ridiculous.
Zhao Ger reached over Guaizai to take Fang Zichen’s hand. Fang Zichen huffed but didn’t pull away, though his tone was still grumpy. “What?”
“Are you mad?” Zhao Ger asked.
Saying yes would make him seem petty.
Fang Zichen replied stiffly, “No.”
Whether he was or not, Zhao Ger could tell. “There are still so many things we need to spend money on. I just thought we should save where we can. But I’m really happy you thought of making clothes for me. Truly.”
Fang Zichen pinched the back of his hand hard, only letting go when Zhao Ger hissed in pain.
“Since I bought it, just make the clothes. You only have one set, washing it at night and wearing it damp in the morning. It’s cold and foggy these days. How many times have you worn wet clothes already?”
Zhao Ger stared at him in surprise. Fang Zichen continued, “Don’t think I didn’t notice. I see everything.”
Zhao Ger laughed softly and admitted, “But I don’t know how to sew.”
Back at the Ma family, he’d only been given the hardest labor. Tasks like sewing ( something anyone could do sitting down) were never his to do, and no one had ever taught him.
The room fell silent.
After a long pause, Fang Zichen blinked. “Isn’t sewing a basic skill for girls and gers? Did I just waste my money?”
Zhao Ger’s voice was quiet, almost embarrassed. “I can ask Aunt Liu or Zhou Ger to help. They’re good at it.”
“Alright. Can’t return it anyway. But won’t it trouble them?”
“It’s fine. Aunt Liu and Zhou Ger are kind. They’ve helped me before.”
“Okay. You handle the inside, I handle the outside. Since you’re the one getting pinned down, you have the final say.”
“......”
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