Chapter 50
Zhao Ger had already cooked the meal, but the others hadn’t returned yet. When he went to look for them, he happened to see this scene.
“You’re still swimming? Hurry up and come out, or you’ll catch a cold later.”
Guaizai's little belly felt chilled to the touch, and his lips had turned faintly purple from the cold, like someone who'd been sucking on an ice cube. Zhao Ger dressed him and, on the way back, the boy kept turning his head to look behind him, reluctant to leave.
Guaizai rarely acted like this. Amused, Zhao Ger asked, “Was it that fun?”
“So fun!” Guaizai took Fang Zichen’s hand and whispered, “Father, Guaizai wants to come again next time.”
He always said things like this. Last time, when they flew the kite, he said the same thing. But it had been so long since then, and Fang Zichen hadn’t taken him again—yet Guaizai never threw a tantrum about it.
The swallow kite still hung on the wall, and every day, Guaizai would gaze at it longingly. Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten, but he never pestered them to go play.
Though only three years old, he was already so sensible that it was heartbreaking.
“Alright, tomorrow after work, I’ll bring you here again.”
“Yay~”
The small fish were cleaned, fried in oil, then stewed with garlic, chili peppers, and pickled long beans. Before serving, a sprinkle of scallions and perilla leaves were tossed in, stir-fried briefly—fragrant and absolutely delicious.
There was no fishy taste, the bones were fried crispy, and the stewing made them flavorful—sour, spicy, a bit like fish with pickled vegetables. Guaizai and Fang Zichen both loved it, picking up piece after piece, their eyes slightly narrowed in identical expressions of delight.
In the end, the whole plate was emptied.
Fang Zichen ate a lot, which put Zhao Ger at ease.
Guaizai’s little belly was round and full. Fang Zichen had him lie on his lap and gently rubbed his stomach.
Guaizai squinted comfortably, his soft pink lips slightly parted like a little kitten.
His personality was sweet and gentle, and Fang Zichen adored him for it. But sometimes, he couldn’t help but think—after all, he was a boy. If he stayed this soft, he might lack masculinity when he grew up. A real man should be like him, someone who could make countless girls and ger blush just by walking past. When Guaizai was older, he’d have to teach him some manly skills.
The next afternoon, Zhao Ger took Guaizai to help Zhou Ger weed his cornfield. Aunt Liu looked worried.
The autumn harvest was coming, but the man of the house had broken his leg and wouldn’t recover for months. As outsiders, their allocated land was far from home, and every harvest required carrying the crops back on foot. In previous years, Uncle Liu had handled it, but Aunt Liu was frail and could only manage light work. This year, it would all fall on Zhou Ger.
A ger’s strength couldn’t compare to a man’s. Though Zhou Ger was just a married-in fulang, after living together for years, their bond was almost as strong as that of blood relatives. Aunt Liu still felt sorry for him.
As dusk approached, Guaizai called out from outside, “Daddy, sky getting dark! We go back and cook rice, wait for father.”
Zhou Ger said, “Come eat at our place tonight.”
Zhao Ger had helped with so much work—it wouldn’t do not to offer a meal. No matter how close their relationship was, some gestures couldn’t be skipped. Before, there hadn’t been good dishes at home, so Zhou Ger hadn’t mentioned it. But today, before leaving, Aunt Liu had specifically instructed him—they’d bought meat, so it wouldn’t be shabby to invite guests. They could even call Fang Zichen over.
Zhao Ger understood the reasoning and didn’t refuse.
Since they didn’t have to go back to cook, there was no rush to leave. Guaizai seemed a little disappointed but didn’t fuss. He sat under a tree, holding a bunch of freshly dug wild greens, looking listless.
Liuliu tried talking to him, but Guaizai’s replies were weak, as if he had no energy.
Zhou Ger found it strange and worried, “What’s wrong with Guaizai? Did he get heatstroke?”
“No, he’s probably missing his father,” Zhao Ger said with certainty.
Zhou Ger laughed. “It hasn’t even been a full day. This clinginess—even a biological child might not compare.”
Zhao Ger paused in his weeding. Zhou Ger didn’t notice and continued, “Fang Zichen treats him so well, no wonder Guaizai sticks to him.”
There’s a Chinese saying: speak of Cao Cao, and Cao Cao arrives.
[说曹操，曹操到 (shuō Cáo Cāo, Cáo Cāo dào): lit. Speak of Cao Cao, and Cao Cao arrives; fig. Speak of the devil]
As soon as the words were spoken, Fang Zichen’s voice came from afar.
“Zhao Ger! Guaizai! Son! Where are you?”
Guaizai’s ears perked up. In an instant, his earlier dejected expression vanished. He jumped up and dashed down the hill, shouting, “Father! Guaizai here, here~”
Zhao Ger and Zhou Ger were in the cornfield, so Fang Zichen didn’t see them. The roadside weeds were taller than Guaizai, but at a glance, Fang Zichen spotted the little tuft of hair sticking up from Guaizai’s head as the boy ran toward him.
He had tied that little topknot himself that morning—the only one in the whole village.
Guaizai was still too young to understand beauty or ugliness, and he thought it looked great. Zhao Ger had been too embarrassed to take him outside like that. Zhou Ger and Aunt Liu had laughed until their stomachs hurt when they saw it.
Guaizai threw himself into Fang Zichen’s arms, and Fang Zichen scooped him up. “Father, why you come?”
Fang Zichen hugged him tightly and wiped his sweat. “A promise is a promise! Yesterday, I said I’d take you swimming—so here I am! Did you miss me?”
Guaizai’s eyes instantly lit up. He nuzzled against Fang Zichen affectionately, then puckered up for a kiss. “Miss Father, miss so much, miss until brain go boom.”
That was an exaggeration.
Zhao Ger almost laughed hearing it.
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