The words were dripping with envy. Before, when Zhao Ger had a hard life, everyone pitied him. Whenever they were scolded by their mothers-in-law, disliked by their husbands, or worked until their backs ached, they would always think of Zhao Ger.
Although their own lives were bitter and not entirely satisfactory, Zhao Ger was even worse off, his life even more miserable than theirs!
Thinking this way, they felt some comfort in their hearts.
But now, that person they once regarded as pitiful was suddenly living a life they didn't even dare imagine. Everyone's hearts began to sour, to become jealous.
Zhao Ger had opened a shop in town and was earning silver. During meals, the men would often mention him, praising his capability and promise. They were all someone's fulang or wife, so they felt resentful that the difference between them and Zhao Ger could be so great.
The older wives who heard this didn't think much of it, but those around Zhao Ger's age felt resentful in their hearts.
This statement gained agreement: "Exactly, I've seen that Fang Zichen. He's not just ordinarily handsome, and he works as a bookkeeper at a restaurant in town. I heard he can earn several taels of silver a month. With his conditions, what kind of person couldn't he find? Yet he dotes on Zhao Ger so much. Liu Lazi just harassed him once, and he went to his house and beat him half to death. Ma Wen was also desperate over him. His skills in serving a man must be first-rate, otherwise how could he drive Ma Wen to such a state?"
"Yo, your words are so sour. What, are you envious? Go ask someone to teach you a few tricks."
"Pah, I'd be ashamed even talking to him. A cheating goods. Learn from him? Learn nothing!"
Encouraged by their own words, the young wives grew increasingly bold. They amused themselves by making scornful remarks about Zhao Ger, laughing and giggling. The longer Fang Zichen listened, the more furious he became. He then jumped down from the higher ground, creating a loud noise. The young wives, startled by the sound, turned to look and were instantly terrified. The more timid ones were nearly scared out of their wits.
"What were you all discussing just now? It seemed quite lively. Why don't you include me?" Fang Zichen walked slowly towards them, his face frighteningly dark, his tone devoid of any warmth, as if wrapped in ice, extremely cold.
"Nothing, nothing."
The young woman in the pink rough-cloth dress who had spoken the most harshly shifted her steps backward, as if wanting to run.
Fang Zichen looked at her and warned, "You can run if you want. If you're not afraid of me coming to your door, that is."
The young woman immediately didn't dare move.
His hair had grown out now. He swept it back, revealing his forehead, which made his whole person appear even sharper. Fang Zichen asked again, his voice low, "What were you all talking about just now?"
He was tall, and combined with his cold, aloof aura, he inexplicably carried a sense of oppression. The young women suddenly felt a deeper chill, trembling uncontrollably as they were brought to the verge of tears.
"Nothing, really, nothing."
They did not dare to speak, so Fang Zichen could not press the matter further.
He couldn't just start fighting at the drop of a hat, that would seem very crude. After all, he was a civilized person. He preferred not to resort to violence if possible, to leave some room, so it would be easier to meet again in the future! Besides, the other party were several young women, how could he hit them?
He wouldn't be an unprincipled man.
Women were meant to be loved, doted on, and cherished.
Fang Zichen's gaze fell on one of them, and he smiled. "Next time you want to speak ill of Zhao Ger, either do it at home, or don't let me find out. Otherwise, I'll pull out your tongue."
His tone could be called gentle, but the young woman directly cried. "I, I know."
Fang Zichen asked, "Do you dare to gossip recklessly next time?"
"It wasn't us who said it," one of the young women stammered, shivering. "The thing about Zhao Ger cheating... was said by Aunt He. We heard it, were curious, and... that's why we talked about it."
Gossip and rumors were like a gust of wind; impossible to contain, they spread far and wide, yet they also faded quickly.
A hot topic could only remain popular for a short time. It could not sustain people's interest forever, and they would eventually grow tired of discussing it daily.
The fact that Zhao Ger's matter was being brought up again now suggested there was a mastermind behind it.
Rumors cease with the wise, but they find fertile ground among fools.
Fang Zichen frowned. "Who is Aunt He?"
"She's Uncle He's wife," someone replied.
In Xiaohe Village, there weren't many of other surnames, but the surname He was by far the most numerous. Fang Zichen did not recognize the name. "Who is Uncle He?"
"He's Aunt He's husband."
Fang Zichen: "..." These ladies are probably scared out of their wits!
He tutted, threw out a couple more harsh warnings, and left. Zhou Ger's family vegetable plot was quite large. This last batch of chilies didn't grow very well, sparse and scattered.
Zhao Ger had almost filled a basket. Seeing Fang Zichen come over, he was surprised. "Why are you here? Is the lard done?"
Fang Zichen said grumpily, "No, the oil exploded. It was terrifying."
As soon as he said it, Zhao Ger knew what had happened. Probably the oil had splattered. He glanced over casually, then his expression suddenly darkened. He grabbed Fang Zichen's hand. "You got scalded?"
Fang Zichen's skin had a pale, cool tone, and was even more delicate than that of the young maidens from wealthy families who seldom ventured outdoors. Several red marks now stood out starkly on the back of his hand, vivid against his skin like mosquito bites.
Zhao Ger didn't even care about picking chilies anymore. He pulled him, wanting to go to the village's barefoot old physician's house. Fang Zichen didn't move. Under Zhou Ger's indescribable look, he coughed and said, "It's fine. I'm a grown man, what does a little injury like this matter? It doesn't hurt at all."
In truth, the sting was quite sharp. Rendering lard required high temperatures, and the spattering oil had scalded him fiercely. If Zhou Ger weren't here, Fang Zichen would have been tempted to exaggerate his injury, hoping to coax a few comforting kisses from Zhao Ger. He felt that nothing less than eight or nine kisses would soothe the throbbing pain. But it wasn't convenient now. He thought to himself that he really should have waited for Zhao Ger at home.
Ah, a miscalculation!
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