Chapter 44
Zhao Ger had no choice but to wait until evening when the sun wasn’t so scorching before taking him along to teach him how to handle the long beans.
The ends of the long beans had to be pinched off along with the strings, otherwise they’d be tough when eaten. Any parts with wormholes or rot had to be snapped off. Washing them one by one in a large basket was no small task.
Guaizai squatted by the river with him to wash the long beans. Halfway through, his little face scrunched up.
"Daddy, Guaizai needs to pee."
The upper part of the river wasn’t deep—it was quite shallow. Few people usually came here, as everyone washed clothes downstream. Behind them was a small ditch dug specifically to channel water into the fields.
Zhao Ger pointed to a shallow area by the ditch, covered in pebbles. "Go pee over there."
____
Fang Zichen got off work early tonight and was surprised to find the house empty when he returned.
The courtyard was eerily quiet.
Usually, Zhao Ger would be home cooking, timing it perfectly for when he got off work. Today was unusual.
Worried something might have happened, Fang Zichen wiped his sweat and, without resting, turned to go look for them—just as Zhao Ger led Guaizai in through the gate.
Zhao Ger’s expression was strange, as if he was trying not to laugh, yet also not. His eyes held embarrassment and pity—a mix Fang Zichen couldn’t quite decipher. Even a top scholar in literature might struggle to describe it.
Normally, when Fang Zichen came home, Guaizai would sweetly call out "Father!" before rushing over with a bright smile. But today was another exception.
Guaizai’s walking posture was off, his legs stiff like a bashful maiden. He looked pitiful, sniffling and wiping tears, his eyes red from crying for a long time.
"What’s wrong?" Fang Zichen asked, heart aching.
"Wah—Fa-Father, wahhh—!" Hearing Fang Zichen’s voice, Guaizai only grew more aggrieved. He shuffled forward with his legs awkwardly spread, his voice trembling. "Birdie hurt, wahhh—!"
Fang Zichen was baffled. "...What?"
He picked Guaizai up and looked at Zhao Ger.
Zhao Ger pressed his lips together, stifling a laugh, then coughed awkwardly. "He, uh... got pinched there."
Fang Zichen: "..."
He immediately sat on the doorstep, laid Guaizai across his lap, and pulled his pants down to his knees. Upon closer inspection—his son’s little worm, no thicker than a pinky finger, lay limp and dejected, its tip red and even peeling slightly.
"How did this happen?!" Fang Zichen exclaimed.
Zhao Ger set down the basket in the kitchen before coming back out, barely holding back laughter. "A crab pinched him."
???
Fang Zichen couldn’t help it: "Pfft—"
"Wahh, Father no laugh!" Guaizai cried, tears still streaming.
For a man, that spot was the weakest and most vulnerable. Though it was just a bit of peeled skin, it wasn’t hard to imagine how excruciating it must have been for Guaizai.
Fang Zichen forced his laughter down, his expression now mirroring Zhao Ger’s earlier struggle.
"Sorry, I—heh—"
"Wahhh—!" Guaizai wailed. "Father no laugh! Guaizai hurt! Father no laugh!"
Zhao Ger couldn’t take it anymore and fled back to the kitchen.
Fang Zichen finally stopped. "...Does it still hurt?"
Guaizai sniffled, his nose red. "Mm! Still hurt."
Fang Zichen frowned helplessly, there wasn’t much he could do.
Guaizai’s lashes were damp, his nose tinged red. "Father blow blow, then no hurt."
"...Alright, Father will blow on it."
After comforting him for a while, Fang Zichen carried him into the kitchen.
The rice was already cooking. Once done, it would be scooped onto a plate, and the pot washed before stir-frying the vegetables.
This era had no pressure cookers or electric rice cookers. Most village households had two pots—one for cooking rice, the other for stir-frying.
This pot had been bought by Zhao Ger back when Fang Zichen was still hauling sacks at the docks. The house had lacked everything, so he’d only bought one, planning to get another when they had more money. But now that Fang Zichen was studying, Zhao Ger had become even thriftier.
Why didn’t anyone in the village study? Was it because education was worthless? Of course not. On the contrary, everyone knew that studying was the only way out for farmers like them. But why did no one pursue it? Because studying cost money.
The scholar from Xiaorong Village supposedly spent over one tael of silver a month—and that didn’t even include writing brushes, ink, paper, or inkstones.
At over one tael a month, a year would cost thirteen or fourteen taels. Even if they starved and sold every crop from their fields, they still couldn’t earn that much.
Who would dare send their child to study?
Though Fang Zichen earned three taels a month, he didn’t save. He ate nothing but polished rice, how much could possibly be left after that?
The thought made Zhao Ger anxious.
He snapped out of it when he heard movement.
"What’s on your mind?" Fang Zichen asked, leaning in.
Zhao Ger was chopping long beans on the cutting board. "Nothing."
Obviously, something was bothering him, but Fang Zichen had a more pressing curiosity.
"Zhao Ger, I’m a little confused. How did Guaizai—" He nearly laughed again. "How did he get his bird pinched by a crab?"
Guaizai sat obediently on a small stool, watching the fire, hands on his knees like a well-behaved student. With his back turned, Zhao Ger grinned openly—though silently.
"He went with me to wash the long beans. Halfway through, he said he needed to pee. I told him to go by the ditch. Who knew—"
"Wait," Fang Zichen interrupted. "Do crabs fly here? Or do they have pincers as long as arms? How else could they reach his bird?"
"...He was squatting."
Fang Zichen fell silent for two seconds before asking, "Guaizai is your son, right?"
Zhao Ger had already mentioned this before and nodded in response.
"Which man squats to pee?" Fang Zichen was speechless. "Did you teach him that?"
Zhao Ger shook his head.
How would he know how men were supposed to pee?
He himself stood, but Guaizai was still young. He had never raised a child before and had no experience. Back when he was at the Ma family, he was constantly busy, barely able to catch his breath, struggling every day just to put food on the table. He hadn’t paid much attention to such things.
Nor had he ever carefully observed how other children did it.
After moving in with Fang Zichen, he had grown used to seeing Guaizai squat to pee and hadn’t thought anything was wrong with it.
Fang Zichen thought it over and said, "It’s fine. I’ll teach him from now on. Men’s matters should be taught by men!"
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