Chapter 357
The villagers didn't know what had happened, but Zhou Ger had been doing business in Yuanzhou for nearly two years now, so he had some understanding of things.
Aside from Old Madam Ma and Old Master Ma, plus a few young boys, everyone else in the Ma family had been arrested.
They said the family had committed some offense, but the villagers didn't know the specifics. All they knew was that one afternoon, a troop of soldiers stormed into the Ma family and took the family away. When Old Madam Ma tried to stop them, a soldier kicked her.
Later, the village head went to ask around, but he couldn't find out much either. The only thing people would tell him was that the family had broken the law and been sentenced to exile. Ma Laoda and Ma Lao'er were said to have died just after leaving Fu'an Town, on the road to the northwest.
Both men were barely over forty, strong and robust. The Ma wives were all still alive and well, yet the two brothers had met their ends one after the other. No matter how they looked at it, something didn't add up.
The Ma family's troubles only began after Zhao Ger had left for the capital. And Zhao Ger had once said he was from the capital—in the villagers' eyes, anyone who lived in the capital was a big shot, not to be trifled with lightly. That made Zhou Ger start to wonder.
Word had it that Old Madam Ma had been sick ever since. Among the children still at home, the oldest was Ma Lao'er's son, Ma Xiaoshun, who was eleven. At that age, he should have been able to support the family—the Ma family had over a dozen mu of land, and with some diligence, he could have taken care of his younger siblings. But Ma Xiaoshun had been spoiled rotten—lazy, hot-tempered, and disobedient. Old Master Ma had no choice but to hobble out to the fields with his cane. Then, during the busy farming season, he went out to harvest the crops and never came back. Old Madam Ma went out calling for him, and the villagers helped search. When they found him, Old Master Ma had already collapsed in the field, lifeless.
It was sweltering hot that day, and flies were buzzing all around him—he must have been dead for quite some time.
After all, he was old, and hadn't done any farm work for over a decade. The busy farming season was stifling and sweltering—even strong men could barely last a few days straight, let alone an elderly man.
The Ma family had fallen from grace in one blow, and the children were still young. Whether out of laziness or simply not knowing any better, they were a mess—unkempt as little beggars. They did look pitiful, but the villagers dared not help. One reason was that they'd had grievances with the Ma family before. Another was that Ma Xiaoshun was useless—though the other children were six or seven and old enough to work. And most of all, everyone knew that Fang Zichen had a grudge against the Ma family. Helping them would only risk earning Fang Zichen's enmity.
After reading the letter, Zhao Ger's expression shifted slightly.
He knew this was Zhao Song's doing.
The Zhao family had only moved to the capital from Heyang in his grandfather's generation. Zhao Song had risen to his current position with no power or influence to speak of—the hardships he'd endured along the way were beyond words.
The Li family had deep roots in the capital and was not easy to touch. Zheng Xiaoyan had only given the Li family a legitimate eldest daughter, but Li Yuan still valued her. At first, it may have been out of respect for the Zhao family, but later it was because Zheng Xiaoyan had proven herself capable.
When Zhao Song learned what Zheng Xiaoyan had done, he wanted to tear her apart. But making a direct move would mean making an enemy of the Li family. And if he revealed the truth, the Li family would only resent the Zhao family for hiding someone so "vicious" and marrying her into their family—an unforgivable deception.
Either way, it would breed enmity, and Zhao Song couldn't act against Zheng Xiaoyan. But the Ma family was different. Dealing with them was like crushing an ant—he didn't need any trumped-up charges. The simple crime of abusing an official's child was enough to ruin them.
Fang Zichen folded the letter, bent down, lifted Zhao Ger into his arms, and carried him steadily back to the room.
Zhao Ger sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed. He hadn't said a word since finishing the letter. Fang Zichen sighed.
He couldn't fully empathize, but he could imagine.
Zhao Ger couldn't put the feeling into words. So much time had passed now—those days of utter despair, trembling fear, and treading on thin ice seemed so distant that he wouldn't even recall them unless he deliberately thought back. But in truth, those memories were just locked away in a little box. The moment he opened it, he could see clearly again—that young, helpless version of himself, struggling desperately in the gray gloom of hopelessness.
The Ma family had gotten what they deserved. He should have been happy. But right now, his mind felt hazy and scattered.
It was like being stunned by good news—yet not quite, because he didn't actually feel all that happy. It just felt like a dream. He'd wished for the Ma family's death countless times, but year after year they'd remained alive and well. The obsession had run so deep that now that it had finally come true, he couldn't even process it properly.
"Husband," he called out, his voice trembling.
Fang Zichen pulled him into his arms. "I'm here."
"Ma Laoda is dead," Zhao Ger said.
He didn't care about the others. But Ma Laoda—the one who'd beaten him the worst—was dead. It felt like a release, yet at the same time, hard to believe.
"Mhm."
"He used to beat me. He'd grab my hair and slap me across the face, again and again. He tried to force me to drink abortion medicine. He even shoved Guaizai's head into a water vat..." Zhao Ger's eyes suddenly reddened, and his nose stung with a sour ache. His voice wavered as he choked out, "He's dead. Finally dead."
Fang Zichen held him tight, one arm around his waist, the other cradling the back of his head. Zhao Ger buried his face in his neck, and muffled sobs reached his ears. His neck felt warm and damp.
Fang Zichen's heart ached with bitterness, his hands and feet cold. Even Ma Laoda's death wasn't enough to quench his hatred. He was silent for a moment, then cupped Zhao Ger's face, wiping away the tears streaming down his cheeks with his thumb. He looked him straight in the eyes and suddenly asked, "Do you regret it?"
The question came out of nowhere—but Zhao Ger understood. He looked back at him, eyes red-rimmed. "Regret having the child?"
Fang Zichen knew all too well how much Zhao Ger had suffered during this time. He'd been by his side, pulling out all the stops, and still couldn't make things any easier for him. So what about back then, when he wasn't there, and Zhao Ger had borne it all alone...
Had there been even a moment of regret?
He stared fixedly at Zhao Ger. Just as Zhao Ger started to lower his head, Fang Zichen reached out with trembling hands, gently pinched his chin, and forced him to hold his gaze.
Hoarsely, Fang Zichen repeated: "Do you regret it?"
Zhao Ger gripped his hand, nodded stiffly, but couldn't speak.
He did regret it.
He had regretted giving birth to Guaizai more times than he could count.
Back then, when Fang Zichen had asked why he hadn't spoken up sooner, he'd said it was because he feared Fang Zichen would feel guilty. He felt guilt toward Guaizai himself, and having been tormented by it, he knew how agonizing that feeling was. He hadn't said that just to make excuses.
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