Chapter 46
Seeing his expression wasn’t too good, Zhao Ger thought he had displeased him by coming uninvited and embarrassing him. He lowered his head for a long moment before speaking:
"While repairing the house, Uncle Liu accidentally fell from the roof. His head and leg were bleeding. We borrowed the village chief’s ox-cart, and Aunt Liu, Zhou Ger, and I brought him to town to see the doctor. The doctor said it wasn’t serious. I… I just thought I’d take the chance to come see you."
Uncle Liu had probably stepped on a moss-covered beam and slipped.
"Oh!" Fang Zichen let out a relieved sigh. "That’s good, then. You scared me when I saw you suddenly show up, I thought something had happened at home."
Zhao Ger clutched the hem of his sleeve and asked timidly, "You’re not mad at me?"
His voice was soft, and with his head lowered and the noise of people coming and going outside, Fang Zichen didn’t hear him. Farmers were often too busy to eat lunch, and with Uncle Liu’s accident, they probably hadn’t eaten yet after rushing to town. So Fang Zichen took Zhao Ger’s hand and said, "You haven’t eaten, right? Come on, I’ll buy you some meat buns."
Each meat bun cost two copper coins!
Zhao Ger immediately refused. "No need to buy any. Once Uncle Liu’s medicine is ready, we’ll head back. I can eat at home."
"You’ve been working since morning, you’ll starve by the time you get back. It’s not like I can’t afford this much right now."
Fang Zichen dragged Zhao Ger off to buy the buns.
The bun vendor said plain steamed buns were one copper coin each, while meat buns were two. Fang Zichen asked for eight meat buns, then after receiving them, added, "Make it four more."
Zhao Ger tugged his sleeve. "Why so many? One each is enough."
Fang Zichen ignored him. "Two for each of you. The remaining four are for Guaizai and Liuliu."
Since they were already bought, Zhao Ger didn’t argue further.
On the way to the clinic, Fang Zichen handed him two buns. "Eat up. Don’t go hungry."
Zhao Ger took the buns, his heart aching faintly. "Have you eaten yet?"
"I ate earlier."
For someone used to coarse meals, meat buns were an undeniable luxury.
Eating in silence, Zhao Ger’s eyes stung fiercely. Ever since being sold, he hadn’t had meat buns again. The Ma family’s poverty was one reason, but more than that—no one cared enough to spend two copper coins on him.
He was like a dog raised by the Ma family. If there were leftovers, he got a bite. If not, he was left to fend for himself.
He could’ve toughed it out and eaten at home, but Fang Zichen had insisted on buying him buns, unwilling to let him go hungry.
Outside the clinic, Uncle Liu was lying on the ox-cart, with Aunt Liu and Zhou Ger already waiting.
Fang Zichen jogged over with Zhao Ger in tow.
"Uncle Liu," he asked, "Are you alright?"
"Nothing serious," Uncle Liu said. "Just a bone injury. The doctor applied some medicine and said I’ll recover with rest. Why’d you come? Aren’t you working?"
"I came with Zhao Ger to check on you and brought some buns to tide you over."
Aunt Liu immediately refused. "That’s too much! We’ll eat when we get back. No need to waste money, take them home."
"I’ve already eaten. There’s no one to finish these, and they’re already bought. Zhao Ger’s eaten too, so just have them. It’s not like they cost much," Fang Zichen said.
Aunt Liu thought about it—Zuixiao Restaurant was the largest restaurant in town. Even the waiters earned five or six hundred copper coins a month. As the bookkeeper, Fang Zichen made even more: three taels of silver monthly. To him, a dozen copper coins really weren’t worth fussing over.
Still, taking advantage of his kindness didn’t sit right.
She sighed and accepted the buns. "Thank you, then, Zichen."
"Don’t mention it. Be careful on your way back." Fang Zichen turned to Zhao Ger beside him. "I’ll head back first."
"Mm."
Back at the restaurant, there were still three tables of customers. Uncle Yang, idle at the moment, asked when he returned, "Was that Ger your fulang earlier?"
"Mm."
Recalling Zhao Ger’s appearance, Uncle Yang said, "He seems very well-behaved."
True.
With his round face and big eyes, Zhao Ger looked like the kind of sweet, lively child with a pleasant disposition.
But in reality, while he was obedient, he wasn’t particularly outgoing—more mature and considerate than most nineteen-year-olds.
Seeing Fang Zichen nod in agreement, Uncle Yang added, "That child seems simple-hearted. You’re cunning and stubborn—a good match for him. Couples with complementary personalities last longer."
"I’m cunning?" Fang Zichen set down the book in his hands, asking seriously, "Do you have some misunderstanding about me?"
"I’ve lived decades and been this restaurant’s shopkeeper for ten years. There’s no kind of person I haven’t met, I can judge character at a glance. Don’t dismiss what I say. Take the couple living next to me in my alley—both have fiery tempers and argue every day, loud as barking dogs. The whole neighborhood suffers from the noise."
"Every day?" Fang Zichen found that hard to believe. "What could they possibly have to fight about so much?"
He’d never argued with Zhao Ger.
There was just nothing to argue about.
"Of course there’s things," Uncle Yang said. "They’ll bicker over the smallest matters for ages, shouting like they’re yelling right inside your own home."
"…Uh, doesn’t anyone try to stop them? That’s terrible for the neighborhood," Fang Zichen said.
Uncle Yang, long-suffering, spoke without heat as he worked on the accounts:
"Who dares? Once, during a morning spat, my younger brother couldn’t take it anymore and called out, ‘Neighbors, could you stop arguing? Every single day, do you want the rest of us to live or not?’ Just that, nothing extreme. The wife threw a rotten egg into our yard and spent over half a month cursing at our house. The other families nearby couldn’t take it and have all moved away."
Fang Zichen patted Uncle Yang’s shoulder. "Uncle, you have my sympathy for three seconds."
"…Ah." Uncle Yang sighed, then continued, "One night, I was already asleep when they started up again."
Now that was impressive.
Arguing in the middle of the night—was sleep not appealing?
Seeing Uncle Yang was on a roll, Fang Zichen played along. "What were they fighting about that time?"
Uncle Yang’s expression turned complicated. "They were probably… busy at the time. All I heard was the wife yell, ‘Why are you thrusting so hard? Trying to kill me?!’ So I covered my ears with the quilt and went to sleep. Some things aren’t meant to be overheard."
"That woman’s that fierce?" Fang Zichen was genuinely curious now.
Given how conservative society was—just look at his own experience, where even mouth-to-mouth resuscitation was enough to "ruin" someone—bedroom matters were especially taboo to discuss openly.
Uncle Yang nodded. "Fierce, yes. She’s the daughter of Lao Li, the butcher at North Street. Helped him slaughter pigs for years before marrying."
Fang Zichen: "…"
"And her husband still dares to argue with her? That’s some courage."
"Why wouldn’t he?" Uncle Yang said. "He’s the tiger-slaying hero everyone was talking about a few years back."
Fang Zichen: "…"
He had heard of that.
Rumors said the hero stood two meters tall, built like a mountain, and had crushed the tiger’s skull with two punches.
True or not, picking daily fights with a tiger-slayer—that woman clearly had no fear of being punched into the afterlife.
Her courage was even more commendable.
On his way home after work, before even reaching the village entrance, he spotted Guaizai squatting by the roadside, waiting for him from afar.
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