Chapter 68
That day, a peddler came to the village to sell goods, bringing two trays of tofu and some miscellaneous items.
Tofu was cheap, and many people were willing to buy some to stew with cabbage.
Before, some might have hesitated over spending a few coppers, but now, during the busy farming season, everyone in the family—old and young—was working hard all day, doing labor-intensive tasks. They needed to eat something nourishing to keep their strength up, or else they’d collapse.
Zhou Ger ran fast and managed to grab a few pieces of tofu. Just as he was about to head back, he saw Guaizai coming alone, so he stayed to tease him for a while before giving him two pieces to take home.
The tofu wasn’t expensive—just two coppers per piece—so Zhao Ger didn’t ask Guaizai to return it. There was still some lean meat at home, perfect for mincing and braising with the tofu.
When Fang Zichen came back in the evening and saw the extra dish on the table, he asked about it. Learning that a peddler had come at noon, he didn’t think much of it. The tofu was well-made, with a strong soybean flavor, and stewed with meat—he quite liked it. Only after eating his fill did he say, "It’d be even better with some garlic chili sauce."
"What's garlic chili sauce?" Zhao Ger asked. "Is it chili peppers? If you want some, Zhou Ger's family grows them. I can buy some from him."
Their yard was planted with radishes and greens, but no chili peppers.
Fang Zichen shook his head. "No, it's much tastier than just chili peppers."
Curious, Zhao Ger pressed for details.
Fang Zichen gave a rough explanation, and as Zhao Ger listened, he grew interested. "Husband, when I have time, I'll buy a few catties from Zhou Ger and try making it. Would that be okay?"
He had a little plan in mind. Fang Zichen had sounded regretful just now—if he succeeded in making it, Fang Zichen'd surely be happy. Maybe they could even sell it!
"Up to you!" Fang Zichen picked up a piece of tofu for him and said, "Do whatever you want, just don’t tire yourself out."
Both of them were busy with work and often "spent more time apart than together." But as the saying goes, time is like water in a sponge—you can always squeeze out a little more.
Every day, Fang Zichen always set aside some time to flirt with Zhao Ger. He was smooth with his dirty talk, spouting it effortlessly. Ancient people were reserved—words like "I love you" had to circle eight or nine times before being spoken. But Fang Zichen? Every day, it was "I love you, like mice love rice." Zhao Ger would blush every time, glaring at him. Fang Zichen thought Zhao Ger was flirting back. If Zhao Ger ignored him, he’d assume it was just shyness.
A few days ago, the old carpenter had his two sons deliver the bed Zhao Ger had ordered—1.8 meters wide, made of solid wood, with some small carvings on it.
Guaizai hugged his little feet and rolled around on it a few times, playing for a while before Fang Zichen picked him up to soothe him.
The room soon fell quiet. Zhao Ger pursed his lips, lingering outside the door, hesitant to enter.
Last time he had tried to initiate intimacy, saying he wanted to give Fang Zichen a child, he hadn’t been afraid at all. After being rejected, he’d even felt a little disappointed.
Back then, Fang Zichen had used the bed as an excuse. Once Zhao Ger had enough silver in his pouch, he couldn’t wait to order one. But now, for some reason, he felt inexplicably nervous.
"Zhao Ger, come in!"
Fang Zichen lay sideways on the bed, propping his head up with one hand, and called toward the door: "The night is quiet, and your husband is unbearably lonely. Zhao Ger, come quickly! Let’s discuss life and… communicate deeply!"
These words made Zhao Ger’s face flush faintly red. He clutched the hem of his clothes tightly as Fang Zichen’s infuriating laughter drifted from inside.
Zhao Ger steadied himself, his body stiff as he walked to the bedside.
Fang Zichen lounged against the headboard, one leg cocked. A small oil lamp burned in the room, its warm yellow light falling on his face, making him look as gentle as jade. He smiled and asked, "Scared?"
Zhao Ger stubbornly retorted, "Not at all."
Fang Zichen patted the spot beside him and raised an eyebrow. "Then prove it—come up here."
Zhao Ger, annoyed by his smugness, brought up the past: "Didn’t you say before that you saw me as a brother?"
"......" Fang Zichen was instantly speechless. After a moment, he rubbed his hands together and fawned, "Ah, back then I was young—reckless and ignorant! My heart was full of national affairs, devoted to serving our country. I didn’t think much about love and romance."
The shamelessness of this excuse was blatant nonsense. Zhao Ger pursed his lips. "And now?"
Fang Zichen leaned in, pulled him onto the bed, and pinched Zhao Ger’s reddened cheeks, laughing. "Now my heart is full of you, and my mind is completely occupied with thoughts of this and that with you."
"You rogue! You scoundrel!" Zhao Ger swatted his hand away, displeased. "Did you act like this with other girls before?"
This was a downright wrongful accusation.
Fang Zichen immediately pledged his loyalty, saying, "How could that be! Though I had the looks, the height, the wealth of a rich second-generation heir, the cool, handsome, domineering aura of a tall, rich, and handsome man, with a bunch of girls secretly crushing on me, your husband back then was like an unattainable flower on a high peak—untouched by women, to be admired from afar but not to be trifled with... Besides, ordinary folks couldn’t even catch my eye."
"What about now?" Zhao Ger asked sullenly.
Fang Zichen lowered his voice to coax him, "Now, besides eye gunk, there’s only you in my eyes, my sweetheart."
The corners of Zhao Ger’s lips, which had been downturned, curled up again. He deliberately picked a fight, "Only me, not our son?"
"Hey, buddy, you can’t just say stuff like that." The weather was hot, and Guaizai was currently wearing just a bellyband, sleeping soundly. Perhaps dreaming of something delicious, his little pink lips twitched a few times. Fang Zichen sighed in relief and said sternly, "I treasure him like my own lifeline. Don’t spout nonsense."
If this were modern times, he felt someone like him could probably be nominated as one of China’s Top Ten Stepfathers.
He guarded Guaizai like his own eyeballs—he’d just lulled the boy to sleep earlier! But Guaizai was also sensible. Last time, someone had given him half a small cucumber. Knowing Fang Zichen liked it, he didn’t take a single bite, hiding it in his pocket and squatting at the village entrance to wait for Fang Zichen to finish work.
The moment he saw Fang Zichen, he presented it like a treasure, saying it was delicious and that he wanted Father to eat it. Fang Zichen had been deeply moved on the spot.
Zhao Ger nestled into his arms and gently kissed his Adam’s apple. Fang Zichen was sensitive there, and it was as if something inside him instantly exploded—his blood surged hot. When Zhao Ger reached to undo his clothes, Fang Zichen grabbed his hand.
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