Chapter 82
The two men were caught off guard. One of them, dressed in blue robes, was bumped into by Guaizai and staggered, almost falling.
"Who the hell is looking for death?"
He cursed, scanning the area at eye level, but actually didn't see anyone.
His companion in brown robes next to him pointed at the short and stumpy Guaizai.
Guaizai was just too short. He spread his arms, protecting the old beggar behind him like a mother hen guarding her chicks. After mixing with Fang Zichen for a few months, the way he talked was quite different from the village children: "In broad daylight, under the bright sky, why are you hitting people?"
The man in blue robes had a very quick temper: "You little brat, get lost if you don't want a beating."
Guaizai wasn't afraid of him at all and retorted: "Did he hit you?"
The two men were amused by this question.
Not to mention the old beggar was skinny as a stick and had two broken legs, even if his legs weren't broken, an old man, would he dare to hit them?
Simply overestimating his own abilities.
The man in brown robes shook his head: "He wouldn't dare!"
Guaizai asked again: "Then did he curse at you?"
The man in brown robes said impatiently: "No."
"Then why are you hitting people for no reason? Is there no law in your eyes?" Guaizai asked with a furrowed brow.
The man in blue robes was very arrogant: "I'll hit him if I want to! If you don't leave now, I'll hit you too."
Unnoticed, a crowd had gathered around. There happened to be a tea house to Guaizai's left. By the window on the second floor, Old Man Wu and a middle-aged man were watching Guaizai.
Yang Mingyi was also there. He was stunned when he saw Guaizai rush out.
"Guaizai?"
Old Man Wu turned his head: "You know that child?"
Yang Mingyi put down his teacup: "I know him. He is Brother Fang's son."
This Brother Fang again!
Old Man Wu had developed a strong interest in Fang Zichen. Yang Mingyi, afraid Guaizai would be bullied, was about to get up and go downstairs when the middle-aged man stopped him.
"Don't be nervous, let's watch a bit more."
"But..."
"It's fine," the middle-aged man said, his gaze falling on Guaizai, smiling. "He won't get beaten."
"A gentleman uses his words, not his hands. If you hit a child, you are not a man." Guaizai began to bluff. Although the palm holding the blood sausage was sweaty and his little heart was beating a bit too fast, he showed no sign of it on his face. On the contrary, he looked utterly fearless.
He said: "If you dare lay a hand on me, my father will absolutely make you regret it."
When village children go to town, their parents always told them repeatedly before they leave: "Don't run around in town, don't offend people." Hearing this often, plus being in an unfamiliar place, children generally become afraid, timid. Also, Fang Zichen liked cleanliness. Zhao Ger, no matter how tired he was every day, always kept himself and Guaizai very clean. Guaizai used to always wore old clothes with patches, so he treasured new clothes dearly. Except for accidentally splashing oil while eating, they were usually kept clean.
When Aunt Liu made clothes for him, she thought children grow fast, so she made the clothes a bit bigger. When Guaizai wore them, he had to roll up the cuffs at the wrists and ankles two layers. Though it looked a bit funny, the fabric of the clothes was clearly very good. Moreover, the way he talked was different from village children.
Village children wouldn't understand phrases like 'a gentleman uses his words, not his hands'.
Though Guaizai was short, his aura at this moment felt 2.8 meters tall. His small, palm-sized, exquisitely carved face was very solemn, his eyes held no trace of fear, as if his courage was as big as his head. If he was dressed in silk clothes, it was hard not to suspect he might have some influence in the town.
The man in blue robes and the man in brown robes were just ordinary folks from the town, their families had no power, influence, or background. Yesterday, the two went to play at the brothel together. Because they didn't have much silver, they shared one prostitute. When they woke up this morning and were about to leave, the madam brought people to block them, saying they played too rough, the prostitute was badly hurt, and they had to pay some medical silver, more than ten taels.
How could they agree to that? The madam had people beat them up and hurled all kinds of insults at them.
After coming out of the brothel, both were fuming. Coming to West Street, they happened to see the old beggar begging, so they stepped forward to vent their anger.
Anyway, it was just an old beggar. They couldn't beat him to death, and the authorities wouldn't care. If the authorities didn't care, ordinary common folks certainly wouldn't get involved.
Just an old beggar. Helping him offered no benefit and might even bring trouble.
The man in blue robes already felt like backing down. He just wanted to vent his anger, not cause trouble. But being intimidated by a little brat making him lose face.
He asked: "Who is your father?"
Guaizai lifted his small head: "My father is my father."
"..."
This statement was as useless as a fart.
The old beggar tugged at Guaizai's clothes. He seemed to have little strength left, his voice barely audible: "Child, leave quickly..."
Guaizai's sense of justice was at its peak—how could he be willing to leave? "Grandpa, don't be afraid, I have people backing me up." After reassuring the old beggar, he turned his head and glared at the two men, waving his egg-sized fist, saying fiercely: "You two big bad guys, ask around on all four streets—east, south, west, north—who's the boss. If you dare touch a single hair on my head, you're finished."
Yang Mingyi was originally a bit worried, but after hearing this boast, he immediately felt a bit speechless.
Old Man Wu shook his head and laughed: "This child sure dares to talk."
Zhao Ger, having finished selling the chili sauce and seeing Guaizai hadn't returned yet, went to look for him and heard these words.
He didn't know whether to be angry or laugh. Looking at the two men, he wondered when his son's courage had gotten so big. If the other party wasn't bluffed and really hit him, what then?
His son was so short and thin. If the other party kicked him, he'd probably go flying.
The chili sauce sold quickly, but the blood sausage wasn't selling well now. It dragged on until noon before it was all sold.
Zhao Ger was at a loss. He wanted to find someone to notify Fang Zichen, but there was no one around he knew. The Xiaohe Village villagers who had set up stalls near him had already gone back.
Zhao Ger didn't dare leave, afraid that if he left, his son would get beaten. He stood nervously in the crowd, not going out, because if he went out, his coarse cloth clothes would expose Guaizai.
Many people had gathered here, and it was a market day. The street was jammed. The man in blue robes and the man in brown robes were hesitating—whether to kick the child for the sake of face or just run away—when several strong men pushed through the crowd and came over.
"What's going on? What's going on?"
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