Chapter 212
Fang Zichen's current appearance and aura were utterly terrifying.
The boss called over a thug to inquire. Upon hearing that Sun Zongze stubbornly insisted the matter had nothing to do with Sun Shangcheng and absolutely refused to tell the truth, the boss was furious.
"Damn it, his accomplice has already confessed, and he still wants to quibble. Gather a few men and come with me to search his house."
"Boss, it's useless," the thug said. "Third Young Master Fang said that while the Sun family hasn't had this kind of incident in recent years, a dog can't change its habit of eating shit. That old man Sun must have built a den for his son elsewhere. Since the old scoundrel Sun dares to say that, the child definitely won't be hidden at home."
"Then what do we do?" The boss was at a loss.
If there was another hiding place, it would be difficult. The entire Fu'an Town was so large, and there were dozens of big and small villages around it. There would be no way to conduct a search.
Without concrete evidence, reporting to the authorities would be useless.
Even though an accomplice had confessed, if the Sun family then insisted they didn't know that person, claiming it was slander and demanding evidence, this back-and-forth wrangling would take days to resolve. Right now, the child was what mattered most.
The thug said, "Don't worry, boss. Third Young Master has a plan. For now, we just need to wait."
...
Fuhe Village was not far from Fu'an Town. Exiting the city gate, turning from the main road onto a dirt path, and they arrived shortly after.
This village was not as poor as Xiaohe Village. A single glance across Xiaohe Village revealed a full view of earthen houses and thatched huts, but Fuhe Village was different, with many small courtyards built of bricks.
It wasn't that the people here were wealthy; most of these courtyards were properties owned by people from the town.
Wealthy families always had several estates outside. Some small bosses in town who did business weren't exactly rich, but they had some spare money. With formidable wives at home, some men established separate residences outside for their concubines.
The knockout drug was too potent. Guaizai didn't wake up until he was carried down from the carriage and into a room. He sat up, gazing around in a daze, utterly bewildered.
Sun Shangcheng sat by the bed, caressing his face, unable to conceal his excitement. "You're finally awake."
Over the past half year, the villagers had often tried to curry favor with Fang Zichen and Zhao Ger. When Guaizai went out, women and fulangs loved to tease and coax him, either patting his head or pinching his little cheeks. Fang Zichen also often stroked his face with his thumb. Sun Shangcheng was doing the same now, his expression even seemingly gentle, yet it inexplicably made Guaizai feel somewhat afraid.
Sun Shangcheng touched his face and, still unsatisfied, began stroking his fine, soft black hair.
Guaizai's appearance was adorable. His little face was smaller than a palm. During the winter, he often ran around outside, digging for earthworms, pulling grass for the goats, and setting off firecrackers while searching for rat holes. His cheeks had been chapped and rough from the harsh wind. After it warmed up, they finally improved somewhat. His two eyes were large and round, like black agate, his small nose delicate and straight, his mouth red, moist, and glossy. His face was fair, his hair soft. By any measure, he was lovable and pitiable.
Guaizai furrowed his brows and dodged Sun Shangcheng's hand. The bed here wasn't very high. He jumped down and ran straight for the door. The door bolt was set high. He stood on tiptoe, stretching his arm straight out, but couldn't reach it no matter how he tried.
Sun Shangcheng sat motionless: "Where are you trying to run off to?"
"Guaizai wants to go back."
"So your name is Guaizai. I didn't pay close attention this morning, but this name suits you perfectly," Sun Shangcheng beckoned to him: "Come here, come over to Uncle."
Guaizai shook his head, his legs pressed together, body tense, his small hands clutching the hem of his clothes tightly. He hung his head and whispered: "No, Guaizai wants to go back."
"Uncle will take you back in a little while." Sun Shangcheng stood up, walked over to Guaizai, and squatted down beside him. He pulled out a piece of candy from somewhere—he always had a little more patience for good-looking children.
Sun Shangcheng leaned in very close, sniffing his scent: "Uncle will give you candy. Take off your clothes and pants, okay?"
He looked utterly confident, seemingly very sure that Guaizai would take his candy and then obediently remove his clothes.
Ordinary children, especially those from poor villages, might not get to eat a single piece of candy all year. They were ignorant. The ancients were extremely taboo about matters of sex, and children mostly received no education in this area from a young age. Girls and gers might be somewhat better, knowing they couldn't undress in front of strangers, but little boys didn't understand. Usually, when he tricked them like this, most children would take the candy, hurriedly stuff it into their mouths, and then obediently take off their clothes.
Guaizai grabbed his waistband, his eyes showing some resistance as he shook his head and said, "No, no." He firmly remembered Fang Zichen's words. In his eyes now, Sun Shangcheng had clearly become a big pervert. Holding back tears, he retreated until his back was pressed tightly against the door panel.
Sun Shangcheng frowned: "What did you say? Don't you want the candy?"
Guaizai hunched his shoulders, shaking his head and whispering, "Guaizai doesn't want candy, Guaizai wants to go home." He sniffled, unable to suppress his fear: "Uncle, Guaizai wants to go home, please take Guaizai home! Guaizai begs you, begs you."
Sun Shangcheng's expression changed instantly, and his voice rose: "Go home? Go back to what home? This young master finally found you with great difficulty, and we haven't even played yet. Come here, take off your pants obediently."
"No, cannot take off." Guaizai lowered his head. The gloomy, irritable Sun Shangcheng frightened him. He cried, wiping his tears, pleading once more. He knew this was a bad person, he shouldn't beg a bad person, but besides begging, he didn't know what else to do. He was scared, he wanted to go home, he missed his daddy and father.
"Father says, cannot take off pants in front of other people. Uncle, Guaizai begs you, please take Guaizai home, okay? Guaizai begs you, begs you."
"This is not up to you." Sun Shangcheng grabbed Guaizai's wrist with one hand, pulling him over. Ever since seeing Guaizai, he had been restraining himself. He longed to, wanted to torture and abuse his delicate little body, to stain the tender skin with bruises or red marks.
He wanted to rip off Guaizai's pants. Guaizai grabbed them with both hands, frightened by Sun Shangcheng's sudden frenzy and loss of control, timidly saying, "Don't take off, don't take off."
He twisted his body, even kicking and hitting Sun Shangcheng. His resistance was quickly suppressed.
Sun Shangcheng slapped him hard on the head: "B*tch, don't be so shameless when I give you face."
This slap was very heavy, difficult for an ordinary person to endure. For a thin and frail child, this slap could take half their life on the spot.
Guaizai fell heavily to the ground and didn't move for a while. After a long moment, he struggled a few times but couldn't get up.
A ringing sound appeared in his right ear, and the right side of his face that was struck immediately swelled up and turned red. He felt like he couldn't catch his breath. His left cheek pressed against the dirty floor, the pain making his tears fall instantly, but he didn't make a sound.
Seeing he wasn't moving, Sun Shangcheng went to pull his pants again. Guaizai slowly reached out his hand, tightly grabbing his waistband, holding on even tighter.
Sun Shangcheng paused for a moment, as if not expecting that, even like this, the child could still be so 'stubborn'. He immediately kicked him again.
Guaizai lay on the ground like a dog, letting out a small, feeble groan of pain. His little body trembled, then moved slightly, as if trying to curl up into a ball.
This was a self-protective posture.
He had gained experience from being beaten—when fists and kicks landed on the stomach, that pain was the most intense and unbearable. But if kicked on the back or buttocks, it wouldn't hurt as much.
He curled up into a tiny ball, silently shedding tears that fell in torrents.
He did not cry or make a fuss loudly, only emitting soft sobs that were almost inaudible. Sun Shangcheng then found it rather boring. What he enjoyed was the children's fear, terror, screams, futile resistance, and utterly undignified pleas for mercy. At the same time, he also savored the other person's smooth and tender skin, and the child's eyes, untainted by the world, gradually filling with various panicked emotions—this process held immense allure for him.
He tried his utmost to suppress his anger, turned around and went back to the bedside, sat on the edge of the bed, crossed his legs, and lowered his gaze as if looking at a dog that needed his pity, existing solely for his amusement.
Sun Shangcheng lifted his chin to look at Guaizai, attempting to coax him: "Come here. As long as you crawl over on your knees and lick my feet, I'll send you home. Okay?"
These words seemed to touch some switch. Guaizai's little finger twitched.
For a child just over three years old, time feels incredibly long. Just one day of happy play is enough to make them forget anything that happened over half a year ago. But when it came to the Ma family and those people, Guaizai remembered with absolute clarity.
As the saying goes, the dragon has nine sons, and each is different.
[龙生九子，各有不同 (lóng shēng jiǔ zǐ, gè yǒu bù tóng): lit. the dragon has nine sons, each different; fig. siblings can have vastly different characters and temperaments]
Although the three Ma brothers were born of the same mother, their temperaments were not the same.
When Ma Laoda hit Guaizai, if Guaizai cried out, Ma Laoda found it noisy and would hit even harder.
Ma Lao'er and Ma Laosan were different. Guaizai would hide from them. If he accidentally encountered them and couldn't avoid it, he would try to shrink into a corner, afraid of drawing attention, even breathing cautiously. But even then, he still couldn't escape.
Ma Lao'er and Ma Laosan would often kick and beat him first, letting him taste the pain, then make him kneel down and beg for mercy.
How to beg for mercy?
Guaizai didn't know at first. Ma Lao'er said, "Beg me, and I won't hit you anymore."
It must be said, their method was effective. After just a few hits, they had scared Guaizai.
Moreover, people are born with an instinct to avoid harm and seek safety.
They were tall and strong, striking him without holding back. Every blow Guaizai received felt like being stabbed with a sharp knife—agonizing, so agonizing that it stole his breath away and made his body convulse. Their ferocious expressions as they swung their fists at him left him terrified, haunting him even with his eyes closed at night.
He was still very young and did not understand what dignity was. Zhao Ger understood, but had not yet had the time to teach him.
Yet, teaching him seemed somewhat futile. They lived in the gaps, serving others—they were lowly people, servants.
What are lowly people? Those of a lower status are lowly people. Lowly people seem unworthy of possessing dignity.
Without this thing called dignity, living would indeed be much easier.
Zhao Ger had deep personal experience with this. He knew that to live, a person needed dignity. He had it, so when he was beaten severely and starved intensely, he suffered even more. Later, gradually, he discarded 'dignity'.
With dignity, he couldn't survive.
Thus, he could kneel to the Ma family, kneel to Fang Zichen. Fang Zichen had once said: An eighteen or nineteen-year-old youth cares most about hiw pride. Unless absolutely forced, he would rather lose his head than bend his knee.
But such words, ultimately, can only be spoken so easily by those who have not suffered hardship.
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