Fang Zichen said nothing. His body trembled.
An indescribable pain made it almost impossible to breathe.
He kissed Zhao Ger, his mouth full of bitterness.
"Husband, it's all in the past," Zhao Ger said. "It's all over."
With the Ma family dead, it was all over.
Zhao Ger pressed his lips to Fang Zichen's ear and said urgently, "I want you."
Fang Zichen pulled back, looked at him closely, and then kissed him again.
Zhao Ger's body grew hot and feverish. The crisp, clean scent of Fang Zichen overwhelmed him, stirring desires he could no longer hold back.
None of the past mattered anymore. Fang Zichen had come, and nothing else was important.
Fang Zichen kissed his lips, then, after a long moment, buried his face in Zhao Ger's shoulder, his breath trembling.
Zhao Ger placed his hand on Fang Zichen's broad back and stroked it, trying to soothe him.
"Husband..."
"Father??" Guaizai burst in, drenched in sweat. He had apparently been running with Black Whirlwind for who knows how long. Barely catching his breath, he tugged at Fang Zichen:
"Father, why you squishing Daddy? What if you squish out little brothers? If you wanna squish someone, squish Guaizai! Leave Daddy alone~"
Fang Zichen: "..."
He lifted Guaizai onto the bed, took off his shoes, pulled up his shirt, and slurped a few kisses onto his round little belly.
Guaizai pushed at his head, giggling from the ticklishness, his little body squirming.
"Monster, don't eat Guaizai! Hehehe... so ticklish! Let go of Guaizai, or else I'll summon the divine dragon on you and you'll see a ghost, hehehe..."
He laughed until he could barely breathe. Fang Zichen gave him a little bite on the cheek—not hard. "I've got a dragon-slaying saber, kid. Bring it on."
No sooner had he spoken than Guaizai's butt let out a loud BANG, like a firecracker, shaking the bed.
Zhao Ger: "..."
Fang Zichen: "..."
This goofy son of his had just deployed chemical warfare again.
Seeing that his father hadn't been affected, Guaizai stifled a laugh and let out two more bangs.
Loud farts don't stink, and stinky farts don't boom. They hadn't eaten sweet potatoes today, so there was no smell.
Fang Zichen tickled him again, and Guaizai rolled around trying to dodge, even kicking his little feet at Fang Zichen's face. The two of them went wild playing. After a good while, Fang Zichen finally let him go and cupped his rosy little face.
"Guaizai."
"Hmm?"
"Father loves you."
Guaizai laughed again, his voice clear and bright: "Guaizai love-loves Father too." He pulled one of Zhao Ger's hands over and said, "Guaizai love-loves Daddy too—Father and Daddy, both."
Zhao Ger smiled and pinched his cheek.
Fang Zichen pulled him into a tight embrace, holding him as if trying to press him into his very marrow.
This child was truly his life—second only to Zhao Ger, no one else could compare.
That year, the New Year festival fell late—at the end of the first lunar month.
Zhao Ger wrote out a gift list and asked Uncle Tang to buy the items, then entrusted them to an escort agency to send back to Xiaohe Village. If the couriers traveled fast, the gifts would arrive in Fu'an Town before the festival.
The items were not expensive—just some specialty trinkets from the capital, things not sold in Fu'an Town. The gifts for the other families followed the list, but the village head's family and He Daleng's family received a little extra.
On the third rest day of the month, Fang Zichen visited the Meng residence. After playing two rounds of chess with the Left Chancellor, he rubbed his hands together and asked, "Old man, I heard that when you caught a chill two years ago, His Majesty bestowed a ginseng root upon you."
The Left Chancellor chuckled. "Your sources are quite accurate. But I've already finished it all."
"Liar." Fang Zichen held out his hand. "Sell it to me! I'll offer you this price."
The Left Chancellor raised his brows in surprise. "One thousand taels?"
"...That's way too expensive!" Fang Zichen frowned. "One hundred taels. Old man, just sell it to me!"
One hundred taels?
This brat sure knows how to dream.
Trying to squeeze a bargain out of me, of all people.
The Left Chancellor looked puzzled. "Why don't you ask His Majesty for some? Didn't you just catch that chicken from the imperial garden a few days ago? And swindle a bunch of lingzhi mushrooms (Ganoderma lucidum) out of him too?"
Fang Zichen looked offended. "'Swindle'? That's an ugly word! I earned those things fair and square. The imperial physician told me lingzhi can relieve coughs, ease wheezing, dissolve phlegm, boost qi, and also relax uterine muscles, calm the fetus, and soothe the spirit—so I've already given some to Zhao Ger. You can't keep shearing the same sheep, old man. Just sell it to me!"
"Zhao Ger shouldn't take too many tonics," the Left Chancellor said.
"I know that! But I still want it." Fang Zichen looked at him earnestly. "I want to save it for his postpartum recovery—to replenish his blood and qi. Sell it to me, won't you? I know you're actually the kindest old man around."
In those days, there weren't many supplements—only a handful of precious things like this. They were expensive, but Fang Zichen wanted to give Zhao Ger the very best. When Shi Nianqi had been in her confinement period, her maternal family had sent half a ginseng root. They sliced it and boiled it with chicken each time, and by the time she came out of confinement, her face was glowing and she was plump and healthy.
In the villages, people didn't eat like that. Most would have one egg a day for just two or three days after giving birth, and then they were back on their feet. And that was only for the lucky ones. Those with harsh mothers-in-law got no eggs at all—after two days of rest, they were back to whatever chores needed doing. The lucky ones might get one chicken, stretched out over several days.
Even in the capital, where people were wealthier, few could afford such things.
Zhao Ger didn't think himself so precious—it wasn't necessary. He told Fang Zichen not to go to all that trouble; as long as he had something to eat during his confinement, that was enough.
Fang Zichen wouldn't listen.
"Without the right conditions, you can't afford to be particular—but once you have the means, you make it happen."
He wanted to give Zhao Ger the very best in the world—chickens that were tribute-quality, whole ginseng roots. Going overboard wasn't ideal, but he could always save the rest for gradual supplementation later.
With a face so similar to Meng Ruqing's, when he turned on the charm, the Left Chancellor simply couldn't hold his ground.
In the end, Fang Zichen walked out of the study beaming, clutching a box. Watching him leave with that look of having scored the deal of a lifetime, the Left Chancellor's wife couldn't help but want to laugh.
Fang Zichen had barely gone far when he turned back, grinning from ear to ear: "Grandma, come over to my place for dinner tonight!"
He called out so warmly that the Left Chancellor's wife smiled and nodded: "Alright, alright."
"And don't bring gifts like last time—we're all so close now, it just feels too formal," Fang Zichen added.
The Left Chancellor's wife pursed her lips, her body trembling slightly with suppressed laughter. Only after Fang Zichen had walked away did she shake her head and chuckle to herself.
But in the end, that dinner never happened.
Because Zhao Ger went into labor.
Fang Zichen had lunch with Zhao Ger at home, then helped him walk a lap around the yard. Zhao Ger said he was tired and wanted to rest.
No sooner had they lain down than Zhao Ger hadn't even fallen asleep yet, but Fang Zichen was already dreaming.
He had dark circles under his eyes. Lately, Zhao Ger had been urinating frequently, and getting up at night was risky, so Fang Zichen had placed a chamber pot in their room. Every time Zhao Ger moved even the slightest bit, Fang Zichen would wake up immediately. No matter how exhausted he was, he'd squint his eyes and go fetch the pot for him. He hadn't slept well for quite some time.
Fang Zichen was usually a deep sleeper and difficult to wake up in the mornings. Zhao Ger couldn't bear to disturb him, but no matter how careful he was—even before he could sit up in bed—Fang Zichen would notice every time.
Zhao Ger pulled the blanket up to cover him properly, then lay down beside him, groping for Fang Zichen's hand. As if sensing it, Fang Zichen drowsily turned over to face him, clasped his hand in return, and murmured softly, "Sleep. I'm here."
Warmth flooded Zhao Ger's heart, and he soon drifted off.
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