Chapter 70
"I'll go home and check again."
Aunt Liu and Zhou Ger, feeling uneasy, followed along.
Fang Zichen ran home in one breath. Guaizai happened to be in the yard, looking up at Zhao Ger and saying something, his head covered in sweat, the little strands of hair on his forehead damp, and his shoes caked with mud.
Fang Zichen let out a sigh of relief. Aunt Liu and Zhou Ger arrived shortly after, relieved to find Guaizai hadn’t gone missing. After exchanging a few words, they left.
"Father~"
Guaizai put down the bamboo tube and toddled over. Fang Zichen grabbed his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his face and immediately saw through his little secret: "Where did you run off to today? And why did you lie to your daddy, saying you went to play with Liuliu?"
Guaizai’s dark eyes darted around: "Went to dig worms to feed the little chicks."
Fang Zichen curled his index finger and tapped Guaizai’s little nose: "Our Guaizai is so sensible, helping Daddy and Father with work. But next time, don’t lie. Lying is wrong, understand?"
Guaizai rubbed his little hands together, hanging his head low: "Guaizai knowsss, Guaizai no lie next time."
"Mm," Fang Zichen kissed his forehead, pleased. "You’re really my good son. Father loves you so much."
Guaizai grinned, hugging his head and planting a kiss on his cheek in return: "Guaizai loves Father toooo." Then, seeing Zhao Ger standing at the door, he quickly reaffirmed his loyalty, striving to be fair: "Guaizai loves Daddy toooo."
Such a clever little imp. Fang Zichen bounced him lightly: "You little rascal."
Zhao Ger smiled. "Come in and eat! The dishes are all ready."
No one knew what Guaizai had been up to all afternoon, but he seemed ravenous. Normally, half a bowl of rice was enough for him, but today he ate a full bowl and still said he was hungry. Zhao Ger was worried his little belly would burst and didn’t want to serve him more. Guaizai licked his little wooden spoon, staring at the dishes on the table, then picked up a few grains of rice that had fallen on the table and ate them, looking pitiful:
"But Guaizai belly still hungry, want eat lil’ more."
The sight was heartbreaking. Even Fang Zichen couldn’t bear it and spoke up for him: "Just give him one more spoonful!"
"…Fine," Zhao Ger relented. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for his son and scooped out just a tiny bit from the pot. "Only this much. You’re going to bed soon—eating too much isn’t good."
If he couldn’t have more rice, then he’d just eat more dishes. Guaizai had already thought it through and nodded: "Mm, Guaizai listen to Daddy."
The higher the virtue, the stronger the vice (for every step toward goodness or order, opposing evil forces escalate even further). Zhao Ger gave him two more bites of vegetables before putting the rest away.
Guaizai: "…"
Fang Zichen laughed unkindly as he watched Guaizai’s lips pout so much they nearly touched his nose.
Zhao Ger told Fang Zichen to keep an eye on Guaizai and wash the dishes after he finished eating, while he went to feed the chickens.
The chicks were still small, so the vegetables had to be chopped finely. Ideally, they’d be fed millet grains, cornmeal, or rice bran, but the family’s current situation didn’t allow for that—they barely had enough to feed themselves.
Guaizai had dug up earthworms and left the bamboo tube under the eaves. Zhao Ger took it to feed the mother hen.
Since the chicks were brought home, not only Zhao Ger adored them, but Guaizai had also taken such a liking to them that he’d probably sleep with the fluffy little things if he could.
Zhao Ger had set up a coop for them in the backyard, fencing off a corner with bamboo strips like a little pen and covering the top with a thick layer of mud-reinforced thatch to keep the rain out.
The space was spacious, and the round little chicks wandered around, pecking here and there, chirping nonstop.
The backyard had become much livelier.
Once Zhao Ger left, Guaizai turned clingy again. Holding his little bowl, he jumped off the stool and squeezed into Fang Zichen’s lap, whining sweetly: "Want Father feed."
Fang Zichen chuckled. "Can’t you eat by yourself?"
Guaizai pouted. "Father feed, rice taste betterrr."
What nonsense.
But Fang Zichen loved hearing it. Just as he took the bowl to start feeding, a scream came from the backyard.
Fang Zichen set the bowl down, scooped up Guaizai, and ran to the backyard.
"What happened?"
Zhao Ger was pointing at the ground outside the chicken coop, his lips trembling.
Fang Zichen followed his gaze and felt his own hair stand on end.
A centipede as thick as a middle finger and nearly twenty centimeters long was writhing on the ground.
Its countless legs wriggled grotesquely.
But that wasn’t the scary part—the real terror was that this thing was poisonous!
Zhao Ger’s face had gone pale. At first, Fang Zichen thought he was just frightened and was about to comfort him when Guaizai squirmed out of his arms: "Ahhh—my wormie!"
He tried to pick up the centipede and put it back in the bamboo tube, but Zhao Ger grabbed his shoulders and demanded sharply: "You caught this poisonous thing?"
"Mm," Guaizai wriggled. "Daddy, you hurt Guaizai!"
At the confirmation, Zhao Ger didn’t let go. Instead, his grip tightened unconsciously. His entire body was tense, a cold sweat breaking out as he visibly trembled. "Who told you to catch this?"
His eyes were red and wet as he shook Guaizai, interrogating him: "Why would you catch this thing? Do you have a death wish?!"
It was the first time he’d ever spoken to Guaizai like this—harsh and severe. Guaizai was terrified: "…Daddy?"
The centipede’s head was already gone, likely crushed by a stick when it was caught.
Unlike earthworms, these crawling pests weren’t so resilient—they wouldn’t survive decapitation, but they wouldn’t die instantly either.
Fang Zichen’s heart pounded violently. Hearing their conversation, his legs went weak, his head spinning. He pulled Guaizai aside and knelt on one knee, suppressing the flood of emotions—fear, relief, panic—before pointing at the centipede and asking softly:
"Guaizai, do you know what kind of bug this is?"
Guaizai’s eyes welled with tears as he sniffled and nodded: "I… I know."
Fang Zichen asked: "Do you know it can bite people?"
Guaizai nodded, clutching the hem of his shirt tightly, his little legs pressed together, head hanging low like a child who’d done wrong but didn’t understand why he was being scolded.
Fang Zichen took his hand, enveloping it in his palm. Guaizai’s hand was tiny, thin, and when curled into a fist, it wasn’t even as big as an egg. Unlike other children’s soft, pink skin, his was like Zhao Ger’s—yellowed from long-term malnutrition and sun exposure, with old scratches and a few fresh ones.
Fang Zichen asked again: "It’s poisonous. Did you know that?"
Guaizai glanced at Zhao Ger before lowering his head again. "I know."
Zhao Ger looked ready to explode again, but Fang Zichen shook his head, signaling him to stay quiet.
Fang Zichen coaxed gently: "It’s poisonous and dangerous. You knew that. So why did you still go catch it?"
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