When Gungun woke up, he was thoughtful enough to reach out and touch Guaizai's face, asking if it hurt and offering to blow on it to make it better. Dandan, meanwhile, crawled under the bed and retrieved half a steamed bun he'd secretly stashed away—now covered in fuzz—and held it out to Guaizai: "Brother, here, eat—no more pain."
They could see that Guaizai was all swollen, but couldn't see their own puffy faces. And with the medicine making their skin feel cool and tingly, it didn't hurt at all. To them, Guaizai was the one who'd really suffered.
Watching the three brothers in misfortune huddle together and comfort one another, Zhao Ger felt a warmth spread through his heart.
They had many children in the family, and people said having more brothers meant more help in times of need—but that wasn't always the case. Some families had brothers who were respectful and caring toward one another; others treated each other like enemies, fighting over their parents' attention, the family silver, and the farmland.
It wasn't just the wealthy families either—the village was no exception. In the village, custom dictated that as long as the parents were alive, the brothers shouldn't split the household. They'd all live together, but the wives would constantly squabble over trivial matters—even cooking one extra meal felt like a loss. The men couldn't just ignore it, or their wives would make a scene at night. But if they stepped in, they'd end up fighting with their brothers. In the end, the wife and kids mattered more, so they'd push for a division of the household. Then it would be: "But Father, Mother—why are you giving Third Brother that plot by the village entrance? Why not give it to me? That's the best land. You're so biased! Third Brother, I raised you since you were little—if you still think of me as your Second Brother, you'll let me have that land."
But who remembers childhood things clearly?
Even if the affection was remembered, when it came to matters like this, most people deemed it worthless. They wouldn't budge.
"Fine! You ungrateful snake! Don't call me brother ever again—I don't have a brother like you."
After the households split, how many brothers still kept in touch?
Just earlier, Old Madam Jia's four children had been at each other's throats!
Zhao Ger had seen too much of this. He just wanted to raise his children well. Gungun was a ger and would eventually marry out, while Dandan would stay in the family. He hoped the two brothers would love and support each other. That way, even if he and his husband passed on first, Guaizai wouldn't be left all alone in the world, with no one to turn to.
Guaizai had grown up—he now knew how to care for his little brothers. Watching over Gungun and Dandan these days, he had truly shown himself to be a loyal and devoted big brother.
Dandan lived for food. He'd stashed half a steamed bun under his bed for nearly a month and never once could bring himself to eat it. Usually when he got hungry, Zhao Ger would often catch him sneaking glances under the bed. A few times, when it got really unbearable, he'd reach for it—his hand would almost touch the bun—but then he'd force himself to stop and pull back.
Now that he'd brought it out to "cheer up" Guaizai, it was clear he knew how to care for his big brother too.
Fang Zichen went next door and bought a few jin of dried corn, then had Zhao Ger make some popcorn for the three children.
It was precisely because they had no snacks that they'd suffered this way.
Popcorn was simple to make, and there was still sugar at home. Once it was done, not only did the three kids love it—even Zhao Ger and Xiao Feng couldn't get enough.
Guaizai sat in Fang Zichen's lap, swinging his little short legs, eating with utter contentment. He even remembered to feed one piece to Fang Zichen: "So yummy! Father, you eat too!"
Seeing Guaizai laughing carefree again, Fang Zichen finally let out a breath of relief.
---
The next day, a dark tide of village men surged toward the town. The moment the yamen doors opened, everyone was shouting that they wanted to sign up.
Even Fang Zichen felt a little intimidated watching them. When supermarkets have sales, even the old ladies and grandpas aren't this aggressive when grabbing discounts.
"Are you all mistaken? This is conscription, not a job fair."
"Sir, we know."
"Have you thought it through? Discussed it with your families?" Fang Zichen asked again.
"Discussed it. My mother said you're a good official, and that this conscription is for our benefit—so she told me to come."
"My father said the same."
"My grandpa sent me. He said this is a way forward, a rare opportunity."
These faces were unfamiliar—they hadn't come for work before. When he asked, it turned out they were from Wanxin Village, far from Pingxiang Village.
"The news about the chemical fertilizer factory reached all the way out there?" Fang Zichen was surprised.
The young man said, "My sister came back a few days ago and mentioned it—she's married into Niuli Village."
That was just how things worked in the countryside. Take Pingxiang Village—if a man there married a woman from Anping Village, and she went back home to visit her family and mentioned something, then everyone in Anping heard about it. Then if someone in Anping married a woman from the next village over, and she did the same, that village heard about it too. Word spread from one village to the next, just like that.
And with this kind of news, nobody was going to wait all the way until the second day of the new year to tell their family back home.
It spread just like it did with Li Cuihua, Lu Shi, and Wang Ger—one person told ten, and ten told a hundred. The paper mill had been running for over half a year, and yet remote places like Niuli Village still hadn't heard a thing. But the fertilizer factory? It hadn't been around long at all, and everyone already knew.
The paper mill recruited only from nearby villages. Niuli Village was far from Pingxiang—what use would knowing about it be? Besides, they didn't need paper anyway. It had nothing to do with them, and they'd gain nothing from it. So the women who had married into Pingxiang didn't bother bringing it up when they visited their family. If they did, people might take it as showing off—or worse, their own family might figure their husbands would be working at the mill, and then start coming up with excuses to borrow money or ask for favors—and then what? They'd be stuck wondering whether to help or not.
Fertilizer was different. Even if they couldn't work at the fertilizer factory, they were all villagers who made their living off the land. Who wouldn't use something that made their crops grow better? This was real, tangible good for ordinary people. It was closely tied to their daily lives, so of course the news spread far and wide.
And this conscription—they were being enlisted to build a solid rear guard and defensive line for Hezhou, not to be sent to the border. So what was there to fear?
"Sir, you're a good official. We'll follow you."
Fang Zichen felt his head swell—he was floating on air.
Just ask—who else could rally this kind of response?
He'd only been in Hezhou a year! He was truly the strongest king in history. If only he could get a roll in the hay right now, with Guaizai washing his feet and massaging his shoulders afterward—that would be the absolute peak of life.
Earlier he'd worried no one would show up, and planned to take anyone who could still draw breath. But now—now he could pick and choose.
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