Everyone turned to look. Their prefect stood there with a dazed expression, one hand still raised in the air. But his shoulder pole was gone. And the two young masters were nowhere to be seen.
They looked toward the paddy field and there they were, bottoms up and face-down in the mud.
Fang Zichen forgot all about whether there might be earthworms in the field and rushed down in a panic to scoop up the children. Gungun and Dandan hadn't cried, and now that they were pulled out, covered head to toe in mud, they were giggling away like two little fools.
Fang Zichen was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when—smack—a sharp sting hit his butt. His whole body tensed up. He turned his head stiffly and saw Zhao Ger glowering at him. Zhao Ger held a small wooden stick that seemed to have come from nowhere, and his eyes burned with such fury that they looked ready to shoot fire.
He was done for. Even if he didn't end up lame, he'd lose at least a leg.
Every hair on Fang Zichen's body stood on end. Without a second word, he clutched the children and bolted. Zhao Ger was about to give chase when Guaizai—who treated Fang Zichen like a fellow brother in the underworld, loyal to a fault—wrapped his arms around Zhao Ger's leg and begged pitifully: "Daddy, spare Father's life! Guaizai begs you!"
Zhao Ger: "......"
Everyone else: "......"
This prefect was way too unreliable.
Had the news from Anhe County been wrong? This prefect could blow up a mountain? Suppress bandits?
No matter how they looked at it, it seemed impossible!
Fang Zichen hurried home. In the courtyard, his heart was still pounding. Only when he saw that Zhao Ger hadn't come chasing after him with a stick did he let out a breath. But he'd forgotten—there was still Uncle Tang at home, the one who loved to wield a feather as if it were a command arrow.
Uncle Tang saw Gungun and Dandan covered in mud, even in their mouths, and saw Fang Zichen's panicked, terrified expression—he knew right away what had happened. Before they left, he'd told Fang Zichen that the shoulder pole was too thin, and the two young masters were heavy—it wouldn't hold. He'd told him to use a sturdier tie. But Fang Zichen had huffed and puffed, saying Old Man Qin had used that very pole to carry pigs and manure, and it was fine—so why wouldn't it work for his sons? Were his Gungun and Dandan heavier than pigs?
Never listening to the elders.
Without another word, Uncle Tang landed a few good punches on him.
Fang Zichen: "......"
The kind are bullied, the gentle are ridden—truly, the ancients are not wrong.
When Zhao Ger got home, Fang Zichen naturally got a couple more whacks. He tried to snatch the little stick from Zhao Ger's hand, but Zhao Ger dodged and brought it right down on his eager fingers.
Fang Zichen: "......"
What could be more humiliating than getting hit by your own fulang?
Now he knew.
It was getting hit and not even being able to fight back.
Guaizai felt sorry for his old father.
When the tigress of their family lost his temper, it was truly terrifying. Like a female demon, even Guaizai didn't dare go near and stayed tense the whole time.
Zhao Ger watched Fang Zichen dodge left and right, looking like he might even climb up the roof beams, and held back a laugh: "I told you to hold them properly, but you just wouldn't listen."
It was a good thing the paddy mud was soft. If this had happened on the road, Gungun and Dandan would probably have a bump on their heads by now.
Fang Zichen didn't dare say a word.
Only after Zhao Ger had finished meting out punishment did he go check on the two children. Guaizai waited until he'd gone inside, then sidled up next to Fang Zichen.
"Father......"
The two of them—a hard-luck father and his hard-luck son—sat side by side on the doorstep, their backs looking pitiful and world-weary.
Xiao Feng couldn't help but smile at the sight.
Fang Zichen looked like he was grieving in deep reflection, but Xiao Feng knew this was just part of the routine. After the melancholy passed, he'd go right back to whatever he'd been doing.
Sure enough, within less than a ke (15 minutes), Fang Zichen was already playing monster and chasing Guaizai around again.
Zhao Ger heard it from inside—half amused, half exasperated.
Gungun and Dandan heard the noise too and seemed to want to go out and play, crawling eagerly toward the edge of the bed.
The bed was high, and they couldn't get down. Gungun had fallen off before and knew that if he crawled out again, his bottom and his head would hurt, so he stopped at the edge. Guaizai was shouting loudly, and Gungun, hearing him, stared toward the door for a while, then crawled back to tug at Zhao Ger, babbling and pointing urgently outside.
Zhao Ger knew he wanted to go out too and sighed, carrying them both out.
Gungun and Dandan were heavy, and it was still quite a struggle for him to hold both at once. He handed them over to Fang Zichen with a stern warning: "Don't go playing around with the children again."
Fang Zichen flushed slightly, puffing out his cheeks in displeasure: "Play? I wasn't playing with them! That was just an accident. The children are safest with me, no question."
"You have the nerve to say that." Zhao Ger nodded toward Guaizai. "Weren't you the one who knocked out his two front teeth?"
This ger really doesn't know how to talk.
What did he mean by saying I knocked them out. I never did any such thing.
Fang Zichen glared at him: "If you keep slandering me, we're sleeping in separate rooms from now on! You'll be left alone in the empty room—don't you cry, and don't blame me for being cruel."
Zhao Ger: "......"
"Separate rooms? Where are you going to sleep? There's no room for you here."
"Can't I sleep in the pigsty?" Fang Zichen shot back.
Zhao Ger: "......"
"Fine, why not? Then you better follow through!"
Fang Zichen knew when to yield and when to stand firm. He immediately broke into a fawning grin, sycophantic as a lackey: "...You really take a joke seriously, don't you? If I slept in the pigsty, wouldn't you cry? I love you so much—could I bear to make you cry? Of course not!"
Zhao Ger couldn't help it—he let out a chuckle.
---
Over in Xiaping Village, the cement road was finished. The villages in Anping, Anhe, and Luoshan Counties were truly destitute—there wasn't a single ox to be found anywhere. Considering the issue of transporting cement, Fang Zichen had earlier sent official documents to the two northern counties, ordering their magistrates to requisition some oxen and send them over. By now, twenty oxen had already arrived.
The northern part of Hezhou, north of the river, bordered the sea, while some areas further south had terrain similar to the grasslands of today—not very suitable for farming, but better for grazing, which meant there were naturally more cattle there than in the south.
On the day those twenty oxen were driven to the cement factory, practically every family in Luoshan County turned out to watch.
The oxen were like dragons glimpsed but never fully seen—who knew how they'd been raised, but their coats gleamed slick and shiny. The villagers couldn't hide their envy, their eyes full of longing.
As farmers, they desperately wanted an ox of their own. But the ox was expensive—over ten taels of silver! They simply couldn't afford that.
The wealthy households in town mostly used horses, so oxen were a rare sight in everyday life. Now, seeing twenty of them at once—swishing their tails and letting out low moos—was truly a magnificent spectacle!
They thought their prefect truly had skill—with just one command, he had managed to bring in so many oxen.
Once the cement was loaded, the soldiers cracked their whips at the oxen's rumps, and the watching villagers winced.
"Sir, don't hit it! It hasn't done anything wrong! Don't hit it—if you must hit someone, hit me instead!"
"......"
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