Chapter 369
Earlier, he had been afraid of getting beaten if he went out, but now there was no need to worry about that. The matter was nearly settled. Fang Zichen planned to return to Anping County in a few days. Having been here for so long, Guaizai had stayed by his side the whole time, watching him handle official business. It seemed the boy had learned quite a bit. Fang Zichen was deeply pleased and, for once, generously gave him ten copper coins, telling Zhang Quan to take him out for some fun.
Guaizai was so overjoyed he felt his soul might fly off. Like a wild horse breaking free, he was ecstatic once they reached the street. Spotting a vendor selling candied hawthorn sticks, he dashed over and said he wanted to buy one. The old man chuckled and gave him two sticks instead.
"Grandpa, Guaizai only wanted one."
"Little master, the other one is my gift to you."
"Huh?"
"To thank you and the prefect for getting rid of those bandits for us folks in Shunan."
Guaizai took the hawthorns a little shyly: "This is too kind of you!"
When he went to buy buns, the seller wouldn't take his money either, calling him "little young master" over and over. At a nearby stall selling loquats, the seller, upon seeing Guaizai approaching—with his big round head, jet-black eyes, and little pink mouth—was not afraid of him at all and quickly stuffed two bunches into his arms.
"Little young master, try these. They're from my own tree—sweet as can be! Oh, no money, no money—they're a gift. Go on, try one! Are they good?"
"Little young master, come over here—I'll bake you two pancakes."
"Little young master, how about some chicken?"
The yamen runners were locals, and they had the freshest news. When they went home, they told their families: this prefect was formidable, and the prefect's little young master was even more so. "Did you go see the day the prefect paraded those prisoners into town?"
"We did."
"You saw those dozen or so bandits in the procession who were beaten the worst? The little master did that."
That word spread.
Some rice-shop owners who had been called to the yamen to carry rice sacks came back and started boasting too.
The prefect might look intimidating, but he was easy to talk to—unlike all the officials before him. Those previous lords never cared whether they lived or died. And even if they did take action—say, by raiding a bandit lair, they'd never bother verifying anything or compensating the robbed common folks.
This prefect and his son were good people—they had done them a great kindness.
They had nothing to offer in return but a few trifles.
When Guaizai came back, he was carrying a chicken wrapped in oil paper, while Zhang Quan had a whole sack slung over his back, bulging full. Fang Zichen stared in disbelief. Ten copper coins could buy all that?
Even if prices in Hezhou were low, ten copper coins should barely buy a chicken butt.
And inside that sack—stuffed with all sorts of things: fruit, pork, pancakes, sweet potatoes, cabbage…
Had my son been feeding off the people's taxes?
No, that couldn't be. I am a man of noble character and selfless integrity. My son, bathed daily in the righteous light of my example, couldn't possibly turn out badly. Besides, even if the brat had wanted to, that meddlesome Zhang Quan would never have allowed it.
Fang Zichen turned to Zhang Quan: "Where did all this come from?"
Zhang Quan's back still ached dully: "The common folk out there gave them."
They wouldn't be stopped. Zhang Quan tried to pay, but they refused. He tossed the money and tried to leave—they threw it right back at his back, saying this was to thank the prefect and the young master, and they wouldn't take a single coin.
People kept shoving things at them until Guaizai couldn't carry any more. Luckily, an old woman came to town selling soybeans and happened to have an empty sack, which she used to help Guaizai pack everything.
Fang Zichen blinked and couldn't help but remark: "These common folk sure know how to play the game!"
Guaizai's little face was flushed pink, his eyes sparkling bright. Clutching the chicken, he scrambled up Fang Zichen using both hands and feet.
"Father."
"What?"
"Give Guaizai a sack—Guaizai wants to go to the street again."
Fang Zichen: "…"
This brat—he's got no ambition at all. One sack wouldn't be enough for him; at least three are needed.
Zhang Quan then watched as Fang Zichen dashed to the back courtyard of the yamen and came out with three sacks, telling him to take Guaizai out again.
Zhang Quan: "…"
Zhang Quan didn't have the same thick skin as them. For the first time, he disobeyed Fang Zichen's order—better to sacrifice a friend than to suffer yourself—so he told Shi Linjie to go instead.
Shi Linjie's eyes widened beside him, wanting to strangle him.
If he knew it was embarrassing to go, didn't Shi Linjie know it too?
When Guaizai appeared on the street again, he was clutching several sacks in his hands—clearly prepared.
Everyone immediately understood: this prefect was probably a greedy one too. But no one felt resentful or displeased. On the contrary, they found it oddly amusing.
Guaizai walked from one end of the street to the other, thanking everyone along the way.
"Thank you, uncle."
"Thank you, auntie."
"Thank you, granny."
"Thank you, mister."
"Don't mention it, little young master. If you like it, take more—my mulberries are really sweet! Hey, little young master, your guard here doesn't look too good—why's his face so red?"
From the moment Shi Linjie left the yamen, his face had turned bright red from sheer embarrassment. He tried to persuade Guaizai to turn back, but the boy wouldn't listen—his head was full of nothing but getting more freebies.
Guaizai dashed through two streets and filled two sacks. When he returned, Fang Zichen saw one sack still empty: "Why are you back so soon?"
Guaizai had carried one sack back himself, now drenched in sweat, his little baby hairs plastered into damp strands that looked like barcodes: "Uncle Shi's old cold legs started acting up—he said he couldn't take it, so Guaizai brought him back first."
Hearing this, Fang Zichen slammed the table and glared at Shi Linjie: "What's wrong with you? You fall apart when it matters most! You're only in your thirties and already have old cold legs—what are you going to do when you're actually old? Just how much bad karma have you racked up?"
Shi Linjie: "…"
Another day passed, and Li Yisheng sent word that the matters he had been entrusted with were settled. Fang Zichen had already taken care of the big issues; Yang Chengfeng was capable enough to handle the remaining odds and ends. After the "handover," Fang Zichen couldn't wait any longer and, as if racing to reincarnation, hurried back to Anping County.
When they came, several carriages had been empty. Now they carried people.
After much thought, seeing these young women and gers with nowhere to go, Fang Zichen decided to take them away.
Once far enough, no one would dwell on their pasts anymore.
He had asked them, of course, and the young women and gers had all agreed. Guaizai had spent days cheering them up, wiggling his little bottom for them every day. At first, they had been utterly dejected, but later they found themselves laughing at Guaizai's nonsensical chatter.
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