Chapter 137
Fang Zichen almost laughed aloud.
This was hardly ghost-like wailing.
In the past, he might not have understood, but now it was different. He was an experienced man, quite knowledgeable in these matters, and immediately understood.
He patted Yang Mingyi's shoulder, speaking with excitement, "Is that someone from your residence? In broad daylight, they're quite bold!"
Yang Mingyi: "..."
Yang Mingyi's face flushed bright red: "I, I don't know!"
"Let's leave quickly! It's improper to interrupt people's... activities..." Before he could finish his sentence, the two people emerged from behind the rockery, locked in a passionate kiss.
Fang Zichen quickly pulled Yang Mingyi to hide to one side.
Heaven gave people eyes to see the world, yet some people insist on using them to watch indecent things—this saying certainly holds true.
The sounds from ahead grew increasingly intense. Unable to resist his curiosity, Fang Zichen leaned forward for a peek.
After the couple emerged from behind the rockery, Yang Mingyi seemed troubled, his thoughts elsewhere. As if seeking confirmation of something, he too cautiously leaned out to look. Two heads, one above the other, appeared over the edge of the wall, moving furtively as though surveying enemy territory or acting like a pair of thieves.
As soon as he saw clearly, Fang Zichen immediately reached out and covered Yang Mingyi's eyes.
"Brother Fang..."
"Don't look, kid. You'll get a stye."
He covered this one's eyes but forgot about the other.
Guaizai asked curiously in a small voice: "Father, what are they doing? That grandfather is biting that grandmother's neck. Is he hungry and wants to eat someone? Grandmother must be in pain, no wonder she was wailing like a ghost. Father, we should go help and save her."
Fang Zichen: "..."
Yang Mingyi: "..."
Fang Zichen hurriedly covered Guaizai's eyes: "No."
"Then what are they doing?" Guaizai asked again.
Fang Zichen choked for a moment: "They're... two novice chickens pecking at each other."
[菜鸡互啄 (cài jī hù zhuó): lit. novice chickens pecking at each other; fig. two unskilled opponents competing, a clumsy fight or struggle.]
They were very close, and Fang Zichen and Yang Mingyi didn't dare to breathe loudly.
Yang Mingyi seemed somewhat stunned, dazed and motionless. Fang Zichen poked him: "Are you scared?"
Yang Mingyi nodded.
After all, he was still young, and people in ancient times were generally more reserved. Yang Mingyi probably didn't even understand what was happening ahead.
Fang Zichen tried to fool him, saying those two were using their mouths to look for lice while also doing some exercise, and that it was nothing to worry about.
Yang Mingyi: "..."
Yang Mingyi was indeed still young, but he wasn't completely ignorant.
The three of them huddled together, heads close. When Yang Mutao found them, this was the scene he witnessed.
"What are you all doing?"
Fang Zichen and Yang Mingyi were greatly startled. Before they could speak, the sounds from ahead drifted over again.
Yang Mutao shuddered all over as if struck by lightning. Those low, all-too-familiar moans made his brain buzz. It was as if he had swallowed ten pounds of explosives in one go. He was so angry the veins on his forehead bulged, and his mind exploded with a roar.
His reaction was truly excessive, the ferocity emanating from him was palpably unsettling. Even Fang Zichen was somewhat stunned, while Guaizai buried his face deep in his father's chest, too frightened to look.
If someone was doing such shameless things in his own small backyard, he estimated he would be angry too, but being this angry? Surely it wasn't necessary to such an extent!
Fang Zichen couldn't figure it out. Just as he was feeling puzzled, he saw Yang Mutao clenching his fists and charging out.
The steward was on top of Madam Yang, enjoying himself, when he was suddenly kicked away.
Seeing Yang Mutao, who was supposed to be entertaining guests at the front, suddenly appear here, Madam Yang's eyes widened abruptly, her face filled with panic, her eyes full of terror and disbelief.
"Hus... Husband?"
Yang Mutao grabbed her by the hair, hauled her up, and slapped her across the face, gritting his teeth: "You shameless woman."
Madam Yang fell to the ground, her face immediately swelling, her hairpiece in disarray, a gold hairpin dropping to the floor. The clothes at her chest were wide open, revealing a glimpse of her bare skin, which was covered in blue and purple kiss marks, some new and some old. She hurriedly pulled her clothes together to cover herself.
Fang Zichen: "..." This is truly an eyesore.
"Husband, husband, please let me explain."
She crawled on her knees to Yang Mutao's feet, but Yang Mutao ignored her.
Fang Zichen glanced at Madam Yang, then looked at Yang Mingyi: "This... this is Madam Yang?"
Yang Mingyi: "Yes!"
Fang Zichen: "Then, who is that man?"
It's often said that family shames should not be publicized, but since Fang Zichen had already seen it, there was no point hiding it. Yang Mingyi replied: "He's the household's steward—"
Fang Zichen was stunned speechless.
This Madam Yang is something else.
The very essence of a clandestine affair was its secrecy. Today, on Old Lady Zheng's birthday, Madam Yang actually chose to engage in those intimate, back-and-forth activities with the steward in the small back garden. It was unclear whether she was incredibly audacious, so unbearably lonely and impatient that she couldn't restrain herself, or whether she simply held Yang Mutao in no regard at all.
Or perhaps she had grown tired of her comfortable life and deliberately sought an affair with a servant.
Moreover, putting aside the steward's short stature for a moment, he was also pot-bellied and had a greasy, unappealing face. He wasn't even worth one of Yang Mutao's toes. She was truly blind.
Yang Mutao was seething with rage, his gaze murderous. The steward, not daring to confront him directly, scrambled towards Fang Zichen's side. Yang Mutao shouted, "Fang boy, stop him for me!".
Fang Zichen stood still, holding his son.
This was Yang Mutao's family matter. How could he, an outsider, intervene?
Yang Mutao knew his character all too well—this was someone who wouldn't lift a finger without a reward. Seeing the steward about to escape, Yang Mutao said, "I'll give you ten taels of silver."
Fang Zichen: "..."
Fang Zichen felt completely manipulated by Yang Mutao. Those words struck right at his weakest spot.
Money can make the ghost turn the millstone, let alone a mere man like me.
Besides, this steward is no good person. Helping someone once is a deed greater than building a seven-story pagoda.
[帮人一次，胜造七级浮屠 (bāng rén yī cì, shèng zào qī jí fú tú): lit. helping someone once surpasses building a seven-story pagoda; fig. a single good deed is an immense virtue, greater than grand religious acts.]
Fang Zichen did it.
The steward seemed to look down upon Fang Zichen immensely. Seeing that Fang Zichen was holding a child yet still dared to block the way, he rushed forward intending to shove him aside. Fang Zichen swept his leg out, the steward cried out "Ah!" and flew backward, landing with a thud at Yang Mutao's feet.
He crashed to the ground, his head swimming and vision blurring. Before he could even gather his wits, Yang Mutao delivered two brutal kicks, striking him squarely in the ribs.
This was truly adding insult to injury. The steward lay on the ground, moaning in pain, unable to get up from Yang Mutao's kicks.
"Master, spare me! Please, have mercy!"
He pushed his upper body up, clinging to Yang Mutao's leg, begging for mercy without any dignity.
"Master, this lowly one knows his wrong! This lowly one dares not ever again! I beg you, Master, I beg you to spare this lowly one's life!"
He was a servant, one who had signed a deed of sale. Even if he were beaten to death, no one would investigate.
Yang Mutao was like the King of Hell, controlling his life and death.
If he wished him to live, he lived. If he wished him dead by the third watch of the night, he would not live to see the fourth watch.
[夜半三更 (Yèbàn sāngēng): the third watch (11 PM-1 AM).]
[四更 (Sìgēng): the fourth watch (1 AM-3 AM)]
The steward was truly afraid now. Genuinely afraid.
His pleas for mercy received no response. Yang Mutao was furious, seeming as if he would not stop until the man was dead.
Yang Mingyi grabbed him: "Father."
"Yi Ger, let go. Go back to the front courtyard."
Yang Mingyi frowned but did not release his hold: "Father, stop hitting him. You will kill him."
"So what? A beast like this deserves to die." He shook Yang Mingyi off and was about to kick again when Madam Yang, her clothes in disarray, crawled over and clung to his other leg.
"Master, please spare his life!"
Hearing this, Yang Mutao stopped. His anger seemed to subside. He bent down, grabbed Madam Yang's chin, and forced her to look up.
"Master?"
His grip was strong, and it hurt Madam Yang. She supported herself with one hand on the ground, the other protecting her stomach, not daring to try and pry his hand away.
"You plead for him? You still have the face to plead for him? Good! Very good, indeed!" Yang Mutao released her, his face twisted with rage: "Zheng Xiaoling, have I given you too much face? Have I treated you too well these years, to the point that you dare to betray me like this?"
Madam Yang panicked, her voice trembling: "Master, it's not like that, I love you, I..."
"Shut your mouth!" Yang Mutao's bloodshot eyes stared fixedly at her, the fury within them almost tangible.
Madam Yang swallowed, an unprecedented fear rising from the soles of her feet, chilling her spine in an instant.
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