Chapter 8: Recognizing Family
Three people squeezed onto one bed, Fang Zichen half-hanging off the edge, unable to turn over all night. Combined with the earlier beatings from the wooden stick, by morning, there wasn’t a single spot on his body that didn’t ache.
Zhao Ger and Guaizai had gotten up before dawn. Fang Zichen scooped water from the jar to wash his face and sat bored on the doorstep.
He had originally planned to go to town today, but after last night’s incident, Zhao Ger suggested waiting until the day after tomorrow - market day, so they could go with others. Fang Zichen didn’t mind and agreed.
Having fallen asleep early, he woke up fairly early too. The sky was tinged with red, the sun just beginning to rise.
On a summer morning, the mountain mist was thick. There was no land to tend at home, and the water jar was full. He had no idea where Zhao Ger had taken the boy so early.
After about ten minutes, Zhao Ger returned with a bundle of firewood on his back.
Guaizai walked beside him, arms full of muddy wild vegetables. Both their pant legs were soaked.
Seeing the large bundle of firewood on Zhao Ger’s back, Fang Zichen knew he must have left at the crack of dawn.
"Father!" Guaizai called out first.
He ran over, pinched Guaizai’s cheek, and, ignoring Zhao Ger’s refusal, he took the firewood from his back. "Why go gather firewood so early?"
Zhao Ger’s breathing was uneven from carrying the load all the way from South Mountain. "We ran out at home."
"You could’ve called me. It’s so heavy, aren’t you exhausted?" Fang Zichen carried the firewood effortlessly, his steps light, his tone casual but warm.
Zhao Ger’s tired, chilled body gradually warmed, his heart aching with unspoken emotions.
"Not tired," he murmured, lowering his gaze as he held Guaizai’s hand and walked beside Fang Zichen. "I’m used to it."
Fang Zichen glanced at him. "You’re not made of iron. That bundle was so big. From a distance, I only saw it, not you." He freed a hand to ruffle Guaizai’s dry, coarse hair. "Working so early, look—Guaizai’s pants are soaked. People will think I’m abusing my stepson!"
Zhao Ger: "..."
Fang Zichen: "I’m a good stepfather, you know."
"..."
The west room was empty and unused. Last time, the village chief had torn off the door to use as a bed plank, leaving a cracked piece about the width of a calf, which Hexi had tossed inside. Fang Zichen wanted to use that small plank to widen the bed. As he tinkered with it, Zhao Ger mentioned going out to work. Fang Zichen didn’t think much of it and just hummed in response.
By mealtime, the bed was fixed, but Zhao Ger still hadn’t returned. Fang Zichen decided to cook porridge first. With little food at home and no breakfast, his stomach growled loudly. Just as he added water to the pot, Guaizai ran in from outside.
His little face was sweaty, his clothes bunched up to form a pouch, revealing a small, soft, slightly sunken belly.
"Father!" Guaizai called.
Fang Zichen accepted it naturally, his gaze landing on the child’s flushed face without any discomfort.
Human adaptability was damn strong. After just a few calls, he’d already settled into the role.
Pointing at the bulging pouch, Fang Zichen asked, "What’s in there?"
"Sweet potatoes," Guaizai said, his speech mostly fluent now, save for a few mispronounced words. "Daddy helped Grandma He with work, and they gave us sweet potatoes."
"Sweet potatoes are yummy. For Father to eat."
Fang Zichen laughed. "Not wasted catching frogs for you, then."
Guaizai opened his makeshift pouch, revealing five fist-sized sweet potatoes - all damaged by the hoe, missing chunks, none of them intact.
Sweet potatoes weren’t unfamiliar to Fang Zichen. Vendors outside his school used to sell roasted ones, fragrant and delicious. His second brother had bought some for him before—soft, sweet, and tasty.
But with limited resources at home, Fang Zichen decided to wash them and toss them all into the pot.
Boiled ones should be good too... right?
Outside, the sun blazed at its peak. Guaizai had returned, so Fang Zichen assumed Zhao Ger would be back soon. But even after the sweet potatoes were cooked, there was no sign of him.
Fang Zichen ate one, peeled another for Guaizai, and after the boy finished, packed the remaining ones into Zhao Ger’s old, broken vegetable basket.
Squatting down, he asked Guaizai, "Shall we go find your daddy?"
"Okay!" Guaizai looked at the basket. "Bring sweet potatoes for Daddy."
"Remember where he is?"
"Remember!"
Though only three, Guaizai had been taken everywhere by Zhao Ger—gathering firewood, farming, foraging. If he were a bit stronger, he'd have trampled every inch of Xiaohe Village by now. There wasn’t a spot in the small village he didn’t know.
Walking along the path, Fang Zichen soon felt dizzy from the heat, the air scorching his lungs. The wild grass on the roadside wilted under the sun, and the fields were empty. No one else was foolish enough to work in this weather.
Well, almost no one.
Fang Zichen picked up Guaizai, broke off a tree branch to shield them, and before long, spotted Zhao Ger toiling in the field.
"..."
...So there was someone that reckless.
"Daddy’s there!" Guaizai called out. "Daddy~!"
Zhao Ger, swinging a hoe, wiped his sweat and turned. Seeing Fang Zichen, he didn’t seem surprised.
His sun-darkened face glistened with sweat, dripping steadily. His back was soaked, clothes clinging uncomfortably to his skin. The relentless work had left him weak.
Leaning on the hoe, he swayed unsteadily.
Fang Zichen rushed to support him.
"I’m fine," Zhao Ger rasped, voice hoarse from thirst.
Fang Zichen draped Zhao Ger’s arm over his shoulder and dragged him firmly into the shade, uncharacteristically angry. "Fine? You call this fine? Do you have to collapse and die before it counts as not fine?" He pulled out a bowl of water from the basket. "Drink. If something happens to you, I’ll be a widower. A newlywed, and my fulang drops dead, people will say I’m cursed!"
Zhao Ger’s hand trembled as he took the bowl, staring wordlessly.
"Why look at me? Will staring quench your thirst?" Fang Zichen urged. "Drink!"
"Daddy~" Guaizai offered a peeled sweet potato. "Eat."
"Good boy." Zhao Ger noticed two sweet potatoes left in the basket and glanced at Fang Zichen. "Have you eaten?"
"Yeah," Fang Zichen said. "We cooked them, but you didn’t come back, so Guaizai and I ate first."
Zhao Ger lowered his eyes and took a bite. The sweet, sticky fragrance instantly filled his mouth: "I won't be back until evening. Aunt He’s family planted a lot of sweet potatoes this year."
Most of Xiaohe Village bore the surname He. Fang Zichen had only been here for two days and, aside from the village chief and the Ma family, he hadn’t interacted with anyone else. He couldn’t tell who was who.
Who exactly is this Aunt He?
His tone turned heavy as he asked, "Where are they, then?"
"It’s hot, so they went back," Zhao Ger replied. "They won’t return until the afternoon."
Fang Zichen: "Then why didn’t you go back?"
No comments:
Post a Comment