Chapter 39
Zhao Ger didn’t rush home. Instead, he led Guaizai to the village carpenter.
His face burned the whole way. He was going to order a bed.
When Old Man Wang asked what kind he wanted, Zhao Ger stammered before he could even speak. The old man laughed and said, "You want it sturdy and big, right?"
Zhao Ger’s face burned even hotter. "Mhm!"
"Don’t be embarrassed," Old Man Wang said. "All the newlyweds and old couples in the village come to me to order beds. They don’t ask for anything else—just sturdy and big."
A courtyard is only so large, with rooms packed close together, and earthen walls that don’t block sound. If the bed isn’t sturdy, every movement at night might as well be announcing to everyone: Look at us, we’re wrestling like goblins!
And if the bed was big enough, when they had children later, the little ones could sleep on one side without getting in the way.
Old Man Wang wasn’t particularly skilled at carving intricate dragons and phoenixes, but simpler patterns were no problem. Plus, his prices were cheap, the materials were good, and business was always steady.
After all, villagers cared most about practicality when buying things. Looks were secondary, what did it matter if no one else would see it in their bedroom?
A bed was a major purchase, so the deposit wasn’t small. When Fang Zichen returned that evening, Zhao Ger didn’t mention it. Knowing Fang Zichen’s personality, he’d probably tease him for being too eager.
At dinner, Zhao Ger only asked casually, "How was work today?"
Tonight’s dish was stir-fried pork belly with bamboo shoots. The bamboo shoots were sliced thin and soaked up the flavors perfectly. Fang Zichen had always liked bamboo shoots, and today, after a busy shift, the two bowls of congee he’d had for lunch had long since been flushed away. The long walk home had left him starving, and the bamboo shoots tasted even better than usual.
He barely paused to speak, wolfing down several mouthfuls before answering, "It was fine! Just customers coming to pay after meals—collecting and giving change. Easy stuff, got the hang of it right away."
Zhao Ger picked up a few strands of bamboo shoots for him. "Was it tiring?"
"Not tiring, just a bit busy." Fang Zichen returned the favor, placing a piece of pork belly in Zhao Ger’s bowl. Seeing Guaizai staring at him expectantly, he gave him a piece too.
Guaizai beamed. "Thank you, Father! Father is the best!"
He always clung to Fang Zichen. Back when Fang Zichen was still hauling sacks at the docks, Guaizai would ask Zhao Ger several times a day, "When is Father coming home? Guaizai misses Father!"
Zhao Ger gave Guaizai a piece as well, chatting idly with Fang Zichen.
It was Fang Zichen’s first day on the job, and he’d adapted surprisingly well. During the lunch rush, when customers lined up to pay, Fang Zichen didn’t even need an abacus—just a glance, a few strokes of his brush, and the bill was settled. Shopkeeper Yang was still calculating one table’s bill while Fang Zichen had already handled four or five customers.
At first, some customers doubted him, thinking he’d made a mistake because he was too fast, and asked Shopkeeper Yang to double-check. But after several recalculations, the numbers always matched. Only then were they convinced.
Working at the restaurant, regardless of how much silver he earned in a month, the food was certainly good. But to be honest, Zhao Ger's cooking wasn’t bad either. Though the ingredients were simpler and lacked variety, there was a comforting home flavor to it, and Fang Zichen was quite satisfied.
After dinner, Zhao Ger bathed Guaizai. When Fang Zichen entered the room, he sat by the bed hesitantly and asked, "Husband, with your busy work schedule, do you still have time to study? The exams are in the second month next year. Or... were you planning to wait until the year after?"
The imperial examination for Tongsheng was held twice every three years.
Fang Zichen hadn’t even bought the books yet.
But seeing that Zhao Ger seemed very concerned about his exam prospects, he said, "The restaurant isn’t busy all day—just during lunch and dinner when it gets crowded. The rest of the time is pretty free. That’s enough for studying, so don’t worry."
Zhao Ger still looked uneasy, so Fang Zichen shared his plan:
"I want to take the exam next year, not wait three more years. I already asked Shopkeeper Yang today—the Tongsheng exam tests things like the eight-legged essay, policy discussions, and classical analysis. None of that’s hard. I’ve studied some before, so I just need to buy a few books and review a bit."
Fang Zichen spoke as casually as if passing the Tongsheng exam was as easy as eating or drinking.
Zhao Ger couldn’t help but say, "There’s a scholar in Xiaorong Village who’s taken the Tongsheng exam eight or nine times and still hasn’t passed! And he even studies under an old Xiucai in town, he has a proper teacher!"
He poked Fang Zichen and emphasized, "The Tongsheng exam is really hard."
"I know!" Fang Zichen caught his mischievous hand and held it in his palm, gently kneading it. "Just relax! I’m not confident about passing the Xiucai exam yet, but a measly Tongsheng? I can self-study my way through it. If I weren’t sure, I wouldn’t say it. I hate being proven wrong too, you know."
"Father~" Guaizai hugged the clothes he wore during the day and pulled out a handful of peanuts from his pocket. "For Father, and for Daddy."
"Where’d you get these?" Fang Zichen tossed one into the air and caught it in his mouth.
Perfect aim. Guaizai gasped and clapped, turning into a little flatterer. "Father sooo good!"
"That’s nothing. Let me show you something cooler." Fang Zichen told him to open his mouth, then stood up and walked to the foot of the bed, tossing a peanut like a basketball straight into Guaizai’s mouth.
The peanut hit the back of his throat, and Guaizai reflexively swallowed it. He smacked his lips—no taste at all. "...I swallowed the peanut, Father."
"Seriously?!" Fang Zichen looked horrified. He rushed to Guaizai’s side and patted his belly. "Oh no, we're barbecue'd! Finished eggs!"
[芭比Q了 (BābǐQ le): lit. Barbecue'd; fig. Internet slang meaning we're screwed]
[完蛋了 (wándànle): lit. finished eggs; fig. "we're done for" or "it's over."]
Guaizai didn’t understand the first part, but the second part was clear—though he didn’t get what it meant.
Zhao Ger didn’t know what Fang Zichen was up to either, but after living together for so long, he’d figured out his habits.
Right now, he was probably spinning some nonsense to mess with Guaizai.
Sure enough, just as he thought that, Fang Zichen said, "The peanut seed is gonna sprout inside your belly now."
Guaizai tilted his head, still confused.
Fang Zichen continued, "Once it sprouts, it’ll grow out of your nose, ears, and mouth. Oh no, oh no no no—my son’s gonna turn into a peanut monster!"
Zhao Ger: "..."
This was the kind of joke you’d only use on an idiot. No sane person would believe it.
"Waaah—" Guaizai clutched his stomach, scrambled up, and threw himself into Fang Zichen’s arms, tears welling up in his eyes. "Father, wuuu, I don’t wanna be a peanut monster, wuuu~"
Zhao Ger: "..."
He stood up. "I’m going to wash my feet. You handle Guaizai."
Fang Zichen hadn’t expected Guaizai to be so easily scared. He coughed and started improvising again. "It’s fine! I’ll get you some water, we’ll drown it. Then it can’t sprout."
Guaizai sniffled. "Okay."
Drinking extra water wouldn’t hurt. Under Zhao Ger’s glare, Fang Zichen sheepishly fed Guaizai half a bowl.
He patted Guaizai’s little belly and reassured him, "Don’t worry, son. I can feel it, it’s dead now."
"Mhm!" Guaizai let out a little burp and cheered up. "Guaizai no turn peanut monster!"
Fang Zichen kept a straight face, not a hint of guilt showing. "Lesson learned? Chew your food properly before swallowing, got it?"
"Guaizai knows now."
"Good! My son’s so well-behaved."
Zhao Ger looked at Guaizai, his expression indescribable.
Half-asleep in the middle of the night, Fang Zichen felt something was off. Groggily, he touched his pants...
He jolted awake.
His pants were wet.
And it was the crotch area. Plus, half his shirt was soaked too.
At first, Fang Zichen thought he’d sleepily wet the bed. Then Guaizai rolled over, drawing his attention—just as the smell of urine hit his nose.
Ah.
Now he understood.
Guaizai was lying on his back, long lashes like little fans, fists curled loosely near his head like a baby. He loved sleeping like this. Fang Zichen’s fingers itched, and he pinched Guaizai’s cheek in retaliation.
Guaizai mumbled, rolled over, and presented his butt to Fang Zichen, still fast asleep.
Guaizai didn’t usually wet the bed. Zhao Ger always took him to the outhouse before sleeping. But tonight...
Fang Zichen couldn’t even stay mad. He’d brought this on himself!
He quietly got out of bed. Just as he slipped on his shoes, Zhao Ger’s sleepy voice came: "What’s wrong? It’s not even dawn, do you need the outhouse?"
"Did I wake you up?" Fang Zichen whispered.
Zhao Ger shook his head, then remembered it was pitch black—no moon tonight, so Fang Zichen couldn't see. "No."
Fang Zichen had bought more fabric earlier, and Zhao Ger had asked Aunt Liu to make them each another set of clothes. Otherwise, they’d be sleeping naked tonight.
In the corner of the room was a small wooden chest Zhao Ger had bought last month. He always folded their clean, dried clothes neatly inside.
With so few clothes, Fang Zichen didn’t even need to search. He pulled out the short-sleeved shirt he’d worn when he first arrived and handed it to Zhao Ger. "Change the little brat’s clothes for him."
His tone was half-amused, half-annoyed. By now, Zhao Ger was fully awake. Remembering how much water Guaizai had drunk before bed, he understood.
But he was puzzled—Fang Zichen was usually such a heavy sleeper. How’d he notice?
Fang Zichen turned away and yanked off his shirt. Behind him came a light, tinkling laugh.
He grumbled, "And you’re laughing."
Sitting gloomily on the bed, he watched as Guaizai—still asleep—was stripped naked. He flicked Guaizai’s little thing. "This little rascal peed all over me. When I first woke up, I thought I’d wet the bed myself."
"You brought this on yourself." Guaizai didn’t wake up, letting Zhao Ger maneuver him however he pleased.
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