Chapter 142
No one in the village knew about Fang Zichen's situation.
When he used to work, sometimes he would come back and just stay at home playing with Guaizai, only occasionally going out for a stroll. Everyone was too busy with their own trivial matters to have time to constantly keep an eye on his family.
At noon, the letter sent by Li Yisheng also arrived. Zhao Ger did not open it, but just took it back to the room to set aside.
He busied himself relentlessly, refusing to let his hands stay idle. As dusk fell, Zhao Ger insisted that he was fully recovered and no longer needed tending to, and he urged Aunt Liu and Zhou Ger to return to their own home.
Zhou Ger was still worried, but Aunt Liu held him back: "Let's go, let's go home!"
"But..." Zhou Ger hesitated: "In his state, I'm not at ease."
"He's bewitched," Aunt Liu said. "If he can find his own way through this, he'll emerge stronger. If he can't..." Her words trailed off as she watched Zhao Ger, who was holding Guaizai and speaking softly to him. Guaizai's little mouth was pouted, his small fingers tugging at the corner of his clothes, seeming very unhappy.
"Everyone has their own fate," she said. "We can watch over him for a day or two, but we can't watch over him for a lifetime."
Back when Liu Xiaowen was taken to be a soldier, she too had felt despair.
Liu Xiaowen was an honest, kind-hearted person, obedient since childhood. The border was a place where for every ten people who went, not one could come back.
She knew that once Liu Xiaowen went, he probably wouldn't return.
Those few days she was distraught, but being distraught was useless, life still had to move forward.
She was old, she didn't know when her life would reach its end. Perhaps one night she would go to sleep and not get up again.
It wasn't that she was afraid of death. She just had too, too many attachments.
She had a daughter, a grandson only a few months old, she had Zhou Ger, she had her old husband.
She couldn't act like her life was over because of one son.
But Zhao Ger was different.
He was all alone. His hometown was far away, perhaps... he could never go back again in his lifetime. He had no relatives in Xiaohe Village. In this world, it seemed there was nothing to make him cling to life.
Fang Zichen was the first person to be good to him. That kind of goodness was different from that of Zhou Ger or Aunt Liu.
He rarely had things that belonged to him alone. He saw Fang Zichen as his salvation, his only one, so he wanted to hold onto him tightly, like a lifesaving straw. He poured all his tenderness, gave his all.
He had been alone and wretched before. Now, although he had Guaizai, if he... if he truly couldn't see a way out, then that was just his fate.
Zhao Ger was in low spirits. In the evening, he still cooked a bowl of porridge for Guaizai.
Guaizai looked at him: "Daddy not hungry?"
"Not hungry," Zhao Ger said. "Hurry up and eat."
Guaizai wrinkled his brow: "But you no eat in the morning either." Before Zhao Ger could say anything, he hugged Zhao Ger tightly: "Daddy, don't be like this, Guaizai is scared..."
Zhao Ger forced a smile: "Daddy is just sick, has no appetite, that's all. After sleeping a bit more, tomorrow Daddy will be better. Daddy isn't lying to you."
Guaizai drank the porridge. When they returned to the room, he saw a pile of firewood stacked beside the bed.
They used to sleep in the woodshed, so Guaizai didn't find it strange. Zhao Ger called him to bathe, and after he was clean, found his favorite set of little yellow clothes for him to wear.
Fang Zichen was particular about things—he always had to wear sleepwear, complaining that daytime clothes were irritating and uncomfortable to sleep in. He had previously bought two bolts of especially soft silk and asked Aunt Liu to help make a few sets of clothes.
They were all made according to modern styles—simple, loose, and comfortable.
Zhao Ger and Guaizai also had two sets each.
Usually, after Guaizai bathed, Zhao Ger would just put his pajamas on him directly.
Today, not only did he dress him in the little yellow clothes, but after his hair dried, he tied it up again too.
Guaizai just found it very strange.
The puppy was particularly restless that evening. Perhaps it had caught a strange scent, for it kept pawing insistently at the door.
"Sleep now," Zhao Ger said, pulling him to lie down. Just as he was about to blow out the lamp, a 'bang' sound came from outside, as if someone had hit the door.
"Zhao Ger, I know you're in there. Open the door quickly, open the door! If you don't open up, your man is going to kick the bucket."
Zhao Ger bolted upright in bed, his eyes fixed on the door in stunned disbelief.
The bedroom door was already closed, so naturally, he couldn't see anything, but his pupils were constricted, fixed intently on the doorway.
It went quiet outside again. Just as he thought his longing had made him ill, causing hallucinations, the shouting started again from outside.
"Asleep? Don't sleep yet! Zhao Ger, Zhao Ger, Zhao Ger, ah~ Get up and open the door first! Otherwise, you're going to become a widower. I'm not joking with you."
Zhao Ger's blood seemed to boil again. He wanted to run out, to go out immediately, but his body was rigid.
Guaizai scrambled up in a hurry: "It's father! It's father! Daddy, open the door! Father is back!"
Zhao Ger didn't move. Guaizai jumped down from the bed. The bed was too high, and he fell, his knee hitting the ground with a loud thud. He didn't cry, didn't even make a sound of pain. He moved a stool, climbed onto it, opened the bedroom door, and then scampered out.
Soon, the sound of his unrestrained, overjoyed laughter echoed from outside.
"Father..."
"My little treasure!"
Zhao Ger's breathing was rapid. He ran out barefoot.
But the moment he saw Fang Zichen, he almost didn't recognize him.
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