"What's different?" Aunt Liu looked at him. "Being in this world is all about struggling for a bite to eat. No one is so indispensable that life can't go on without them. He just left, of course you're hurting. Once this period passes, it will be better. Listen to your Auntie, live well, don't let your thoughts run wild."
Zhao Ger shook his head, his tone very light, saying, "Living... is just too tiring. I know that if I go, Guaizai is still young, he definitely wouldn't survive alone. I wouldn't be at peace either. I'll take him with me. Down below, I can still protect him."
"What kind of nonsense are you spouting!" Aunt Liu yelled at him. "Zhao Ger, you can't think like that. Be good, eat the porridge."
In the end, Zhao Ger didn't eat the porridge.
The coarse cloth on his finger had gotten wet yesterday but hadn't been changed. At noon, Zhou Ger helped him change it.
It was a bit infected. The coarse cloth was stuck to the wound, and when it was removed, it accidentally pulled on the cut, causing a little blood to flow.
Zhao Ger had initially been silently allowing him to tend to it, but now he stared at his fingertip, lost in thought.
So, when people are about to part, there is a premonition.
Zhou Ger sprinkled some medicine on the wound. A sharp pain made Zhao Ger's arm reflexively jerk back. Zhou Ger held it, not letting him move. "It stings a bit, bear with it for a moment."
The cut, wrapped in damp cloth overnight, had turned yellowish and looked like it might start oozing pus. Mixed with blood, it looked somewhat disgusting.
Zhao Ger suddenly pulled his hand away and began rubbing the wound fiercely. Blood gathered into a thin line and trickled down his sallow, coarse wrist.
It's too ugly.
Just too ugly. No wonder it couldn't make someone stay.
His hands, worn and calloused from years of hard labor, were not pleasant to look at.
Zhao Ger had always felt insecure about them. After living with Fang Zichen for half a year, Fang Zichen had pitied him and couldn't bear to see him work. But after more than ten years, he was used to toiling, accustomed to waking up and working, working, working... Suddenly stopping, he felt unsettled everywhere.
He wanted to earn money, partly because he had suffered enough from having none, but also because he wanted Fang Zichen to have a better life, wanted him to be able to focus solely on the imperial exams, wanted him to see that he, Zhao Ger, wasn't a useless person.
Even if he wasn't good enough, he was capable.
He never allowed himself a day of rest, constantly busy with work, and so his hands remained rough and worn. In their quieter moments, when they lay together in bed, Fang Zichen would hold his still-slender frame, his heart aching with a pity he felt powerless to act upon.
He had come into this world alone, with nothing but his wits. He possessed no extraordinary gifts, no secret knowledge that would let him dominate his surroundings and glide to success like the protagonists in stories.
Stories were often full of exaggeration. But the truth was, no matter the time or place, the world always favored the powerful over the weak.
He had no influential family or personal authority to shield him. If he were to start a successful business, it would only be a matter of time before he drew the greedy eyes of those stronger than him. If that happened, how could he possibly protect what he had built?
Now he was working at Zuixiao Restaurant. Although it was barely enough for food and clothing, he was building connections.
Now that he was stronger and others weaker, if he started a business now, who would dare to target him?
With that poke, the wound instantly became horribly mangled. The small cut tore open, the flesh a bloody mess. The pain from the aggravated wound was hard to bear, yet instead of crying out, Zhao Ger threw his head back and erupted into wild laughter, "Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha..."
He laughed until tears streamed down his face, nearly hysterical. Zhou Ger was stunned.
But soon, the laughter stopped, replaced by suppressed sobs.
He covered his eyes with his blood-stained hand, each sob sounding as if he were enduring bone-deep pain.
Zhou Ger's eyes also reddened. "Zhao Ger..."
____
Guaizai had been sitting outside the door the whole time, having forgotten to feed the chickens in the backyard. He held the little puppy in his arms.
It whimpered twice.
Guaizai stroked the fur on its back. "Doggy, you say, why father not come back yet? Guaizai miss him so, so much. He really just lost, right? He not don't want Guaizai and Daddy, right? Guaizai is good, Guaizai not make fuss. Daddy good too. Father will come back."
As he spoke, tears fell, and he quickly wiped them away.
The puppy licked the back of his small hand, seeming to sense its little master's unhappiness. It was unusually well-behaved today.
Zhao Ger's condition was truly terrible. Aunt Liu and Zhou Ger took turns watching him, not daring to leave his side for a moment.
Uncle Liu stood in the yard, glanced towards the room, then looked towards the gate, and let out a deep, heavy sigh.
Guaizai sat by himself on the doorstep, his small frame still as he stared fixedly into the distance.
When the time came, he got up and ran into the house. Standing on his tiptoes, he saw that Zhao Ger was lying down, eyes closed. He called out softly, "Daddy." Zhao Ger didn't respond. He stared fixedly for a moment, then reached out to touch his hand. Finding it still warm, he finally breathed a sigh of relief and ran back to sit in the doorway.
This continued until the next day. Zhao Ger got up and still didn't eat anything. He just dragged his weak body and, like nothing was wrong, started cleaning the yard. Fang Zichen's clothes, shoes, bowl, chopsticks, and towel were all neatly folded, wiped clean, and placed into a chest.
Guaizai watched for a long while, then suddenly sprang up. He grabbed Zhao Ger's arm and shoved him back. Yanking Fang Zichen's clothes from the chest, he clutched them tightly to his chest. When Zhao Ger reached to take them, Guaizai held on with all his strength, refusing to let go no matter what.
"Daddy, why you putting Father's clothes away? These are Father's clothes! He need to wear them when he come back at night. If Daddy puts them away, Father will know... he'll get angry! What if he gets so angry he doesn't come back? Daddy, put them back, quick, quick..."
Zhao Ger didn't say a word.
No comments:
Post a Comment