Chapter 217
Fang Zichen did not believe he had done anything wrong, yet Jiang Zhengxu still condemned him. Because it hadn't happened to Jiang Zhengxu himself, his criticism came lightly.
Yes, when a crime occurs, one should report it to the authorities. But the government demands conclusive evidence.
He did not have time to waste. Sun Shangcheng was guilty, and beating him was a justified punishment. Even if it earned him a reputation for cruelty, or even cost him his scholarly rank, he accepted it.
He was eighteen years old, and he had only this one son! For Sun Shangcheng to dare beat his son was no different from taking his own life.
Fang Zichen glanced at Jiang Zhengxu, his attitude neither cold nor warm, even bordering on sarcasm. He said, "I am not like you. You have many sons. If one dies, you don't mind. You can pretend not to see, pretend not to know. But I can't. I have only one. Oh, that's not right either. Even if I had more than one, even if I had a whole brood, whoever dares lay a hand on my son, I will move against their entire family. I won't even spare a dog. If the law cannot achieve absolute fairness and justice, then what's wrong with committing a crime? If evil can only be countered with evil, I am willing to become the greater evil. I don't care how others view me."
Guaizai stayed at the medical hall for over half a month. During this time, he remained lying in bed, never finding it dull.
A broken leg bone was not painless; on the contrary, the pain was heart-wrenching, coming in waves like a heartbeat.
Guaizai did not say anything. He knew if he cried out in pain, his daddy would be very sad, so he said nothing.
Zhao Ger had been seriously injured. Once Guaizai woke up, he relaxed. Fang Zichen did not let him stay to keep watch at the bedside, sending him to rest as soon as it grew dark each night.
Having taken medicine, he was somewhat drowsy. With Fang Zichen there, he felt at ease and slept soundly. Fang Zichen, however, slept poorly leaning by the bed. When he closed his eyes, drifting in and out of sleep, he kept dreaming chaotic dreams of that day: Zhao Ger covered in blood, staggering out, his hands bruised purple, pulling at him, saying over and over, "My son, I want my son."
Then the scene would shift, and he would dream of Guaizai lying motionless on the wet ground, barely breathing, a tragic sight.
Even though three days had passed, the feelings from that time remained vividly clear.
Sun Shangcheng laughed in his face. Fang Zichen had never hated anyone so much. He wanted to kill Sun Shangcheng. He had touched what was most precious, most cherished to him. He wanted to tear his mouth apart, wanted to chop the hands that had humiliated his son into pieces. He wanted to kill him. He truly wanted to kill him!!
Because he was too exhausted, his body sank into a stupor, yet his thoughts remained clear. He felt torn, muddled, unable to distinguish between dream and reality.
Someone was weeping softly, the sound seeming to come from a distant place yet also so close it seemed right by his ear.
Fang Zichen's heart clenched, and he jolted awake.
A lamp was lit in the room, its flame no larger than a soybean, casting an orange-yellow light.
Guaizai was silently shedding tears, his eye rims red. Those eyes, moistened by tears, were like two grapes.
Fang Zichen's heart ached terribly. He wiped his tears and hurriedly asked, "Why are you crying? Did you have a nightmare?"
"Father," Guaizai looked to the side, seeing Zhao Ger had not been woken. After a moment of silence, meeting Fang Zichen's slightly worried gaze, he whispered, "Guaizai's leg hurt hurt, cannot sleep. Guaizai is finished."
This was a difficult situation.
Fang Zichen wanted to hold him, but the child's leg couldn't be moved, and he himself was clumsy. If he touched it, the child would likely hurt even more.
"Then shall father tell you a story?" He remembered Guaizai loved listening to stories. Before, when going to sleep at night, he would always pester him to tell one, threatening to fart and bomb him if he didn't.
Guaizai's eyes lit up. "Okay! Guaizai want listen. But father must speak very softly, don't wake daddy!"
"Okay~" Fang Zichen pulled the stool closer, leaning over the bed. With one hand he held Guaizai's small hand, gently rubbing the back of it, and with the other he stroked his soft hair. "Once upon a time..."
Children love to ask countless 'whys'.
Fang Zichen talked until his mouth was dry. Guaizai listened, his two eyes sparkling as if glowing, like flashlights.
His attention was captured by the story, and he forgot the pain.
"Father~"
Fang Zichen: "Hmm!"
"Guaizai has a small small question."
"What?"
Guaizai's big brain was full of questions. "Why when Hulk transforms, his clothes and pants all tear, but his underpants doesn't? When he's a person, his butt is small. When he turns into a giant, his butt is big. So how can the underpants still fit him?"
Fang Zichen: "..."
Son, your old father told the story so vividly and descriptively not for you to get hung up on this issue.
As for why the underpants don't tear after transforming... if they tore, wouldn't his thing be exposed?
They may be open-minded, but not open-minded enough to show that on screen.
The Hulk is already shirtless; if he were bottomless too, it probably wouldn't pass censorship.
Fang Zichen paused, swallowed, and began to donkey his son again. With just a few words, Guaizai was led astray once more.
["驴他" (lǘ tā): lit. To donkey someone; fig. To deceive someone, to trick them, or to pull the wool over their eyes]
Earlier, Zhao Ger had arranged for Xiao Feng to stay with the Liu family, worried the boy would be frightened if he saw his and Guaizai's injuries. So when Aunt Liu came to town to look after Zhao Ger and Guaizai, she did not bring Xiao Feng with her.
After Guaizai improved a bit, Aunt Liu let him come visit.
Yang Mingyi also came. The two young gers kept Guaizai company every day. Zhao Ger's injuries were not yet healed, so the roast duck business was temporarily halted. Fang Zichen also didn't go to work, staying at the medical hall to keep them company. Guaizai was overjoyed, laughing and giggling all day long.
His laughter was bright and clear, carrying far into the distance. Physician Xu, treating patients outside the room, would hear it every time and couldn't help but feel speechless.
This child truly had a remarkably resilient spirit. After waking up, he didn't cry or fuss. He ate when it was time to eat, drank when it was time to drink. Fang Zichen even bought a bed and brought the older child from home over. It was as if they were treating this place as their own home.
Those who knew thought his son had suffered greatly. Those who didn't would think he and his son had come to the medical hall to enjoy a vacation.
Zhao Ger and Guaizai needed to watch their diet: no spicy food, no ginger, no soy products. But these two had suffered and needed nourishment.
Fang Zichen bought a large pork leg and asked Zhao Ger to braise it. The big pot of meat was stewed until it was tender and full of flavor. Fang Zichen picked out a large piece, placed it on a plate for Guaizai, and said it was "use form to supplement form"—meaning that eating this big pork knuckle would help his injured leg heal faster by the next day.
[以形补形 (yǐ xíng bǔ xíng): lit. use form to supplement form; fig. the belief that eating a certain body part of an animal can strengthen or heal the corresponding part of the human body]
It was just a playful story to cheer the child up. However, to everyone's surprise, the very next day, Guaizai claimed his leg felt much better and insisted he was ready to get out of bed and play.
Fang Zichen didn't say anything, just poked his calf. Guaizai cried out, "Ouch!"
Zhao Ger was about to scold Fang Zichen when Guaizai, eyes welling with tears, spoke first: "Oh? Guaizai leg why not better yet? Is the pig leg too little?" He raised his short little finger and said pitifully, "Daddy, can you cook for Guaizai again? Guaizai think if eat a little little more, Guaizai can get better."
Zhao Ger: "..."
Fang Zichen: "..."
If you want to eat, just say so.
And pull this stunt.
Probably because he ate too many wild vegetables in the first three years, Fang Zichen noticed Guaizai loved meat and couldn't do without it, especially chicken. The last time Zhao Ger bought a few chickens, their son became remarkably hardworking. He went to the riverbank every day to dig for earthworms, and then to the foot of the mountain to dig some more—so diligently it seemed he might dig the whole hillside away. According to Zhao Ger, quite a a few chickens ended up dying from overeating.
The first batch bought were already about one to two catties. Villagers raising chickens couldn't bear to feed them grain. When the chickens were small, they chopped vegetables finely and mixed them with rice bran to feed them. When they were bigger, they were fed only vegetable leaves. Therefore, the chickens grew slowly. One to two catties was also about over two months old. Since the chickens had died from overeating and not from illness, Zhao Ger couldn't bear to waste them. Small chickens weren't suitable for soup, so he cut them into small pieces and stir-fried them with garlic and perilla leaves. The aroma when done was incredible. Guaizai tried it once and loved it.
Fang Zichen vaguely suspected Guaizai did it on purpose. This child was sometimes clever and tricky. Knowing he could use a nuclear weapon to bomb him, he was probably capable of overfeeding chickens to death.
Recently, Zhao Ger had been cooking plain porridge for him. Guaizai was probably craving meat.
But it was only chicken. If the boy wanted to eat it, then he could simply eat it. Fang Zichen worked as hard as he did precisely so that his fulang and his son could enjoy meals with chicken every day. Although they were still a few steps away from 'every meal', but with a little more effort, he knew he could make it a reality.
His son had suffered so much. Forget pork knuckle, even if he wanted to eat dinosaur leg, he could...
That was a bit difficult.
Forget it, better stick to pig leg!
If he wanted to eat, Zhao Ger would naturally cook it for him.
Braised pork trotters took time and care to prepare properly. The freshest ones were only available at the morning market. Since it was already the fourth lunar month, getting somewhat hot. A pork leg kept all day wouldn't spoil, but it would have a bit of an odor. Zhao Ger planned to get up early to buy it and braise it. But he was still recovering from his own serious injuries.
Fang Zichen, who was usually fond of sleeping in, proved unusually diligent that morning. By the time Zhao Ger woke up, Fang Zichen had already returned from the market, a fresh pork leg in hand.
Pork legs were dirty, not like meat that could be washed and thrown into the pot. If not cleaned properly, they had a strong odor.
Start a fire to singe the hair, then scrape the skin. Having done it once yesterday under Zhao Ger's guidance, Fang Zichen found it easier this time, managing with skill.
Fang Zichen went to the morning market every day, buying chicken, duck, fish, and meat, nourishing them vigorously.
Guaizai ate heartily, yet didn't seem to gain an ounce—it was a mystery where all that food went. In contrast, both Zhao Ger and Xiao Feng had visibly gained some weight. Fang Zichen looked at Zhao Ger's round face, seemingly like baby fat, his big eyes clear and bright. He found him utterly adorable.
Zhao Ger looked at him, his eyes curved like crescent moons, his voice light, carrying gentleness, the tone pleasant to the ear: "Why do you keep looking at me?"
So blatantly, and with the children right there!
Catching this smile of his, Fang Zichen felt another strong flutter in his heart, his breathing becoming somewhat difficult.
This little enchantress is truly something of a torment.
He turned his face away, speaking very quietly: "You're my fulang. Can't I look at you a couple of times? Do I have to pay? I look because I cherish you. If I weren't even willing to look at you, you'd be worried."
Zhao Ger laughed again, kicking him: "What nonsense are you talking."
Fang Zichen sidestepped to avoid the kick and went to sit on the other side.
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