It was nearly the ninth lunar month now, and the weather was scorching. Xie Xiaoyu and Feng momo had started selling cold drinks in Hezhou again. The profit per sale was small, but with so many customers, the total take was decent—they'd made a nice little sum.
Zhao Ger and Fang Zichen made a trip back to Hezhou during this time to visit Xie Xiaoyu. The Fang residence had been fully repaired. After arriving in Hezhou, Fang Zichen stayed there for two nights before heading to Anhe County, where he'd been busy and "homeless" ever since—no time to come back.
Xie Xiaoyu's belly had grown quite large now. Knowing that he and Zhao Ger were close, and that Li Yisheng was on brotherly terms with Fang Zichen, Feng momo took excellent care of him.
Physician Li and his wife had originally planned to return to Qinzhou once Fang Zichen was settled and his work wound down. But now that Xie Xiaoyu was pregnant, no one even needed to persuade them—they decided to stay on their own. They found a shop on the main street and set up their old trade again.
When Xie Xiaoyu saw that Guaizai and the two little ones, Gungun and Dandan, hadn't come back with them, he looked a bit disappointed.
"Are all three children doing well?"
Zhao Ger smiled, clearly pleased: "They're all fine. Gungun and Dandan can talk now!"
"Oh? Could they call me 'godfather' yet?" Xie Xiaoyu patted his belly. "If it weren't for this little one making it inconvenient, I'd go see them myself. It's been so long—I really miss them."
Fang Zichen noticed that Xie Xiaoyu had gotten even rounder than before. He used to be a little chubby, but now he was solidly plump—the kind that looked like he might keel over from a heart attack at any moment. Fang Zichen couldn't bring himself to call him "Little Fatty" anymore.
Calling him that would be an insult.
At this size, there was nothing "little" about him—if anything, it should be "Big Fatty."
But he couldn't upset the man right now, so Fang Zichen said, "Pangpang, you've been doing alright lately?"
[胖 (pàng): fat or chubby]
Xie Xiaoyu wanted to kick him. "All good, except the heat's killing my appetite. I've really been craving sour things."
Fang Zichen glanced at the half-eaten roast duck leg in Xie Xiaoyu's hand, about to say something, when Zhao Ger coughed first. Fang Zichen immediately changed tack: "Is that so? I heard Yuanhe County has a bumper crop of plums and mangoes this season. They should be ripe right about now. I'll have some shipped over for you."
Xie Xiaoyu's eyes lit up. "Wouldn't that be too much trouble?"
"No trouble at all!"
Even if it were trouble, he'd still arrange it!
This was the time when a ger needed his husband the most. And his brother was out there sweating and bleeding for him right now. If his brother's fulang wanted something sour, that absolutely had to be taken care of.
Fang Zichen gave the orders. Zhao Ger saw that everything was fine here—with the deputy prefect around and the Qin family troops left behind, the Fang residence wasn't impenetrable, but it was definitely safe. Besides, Fang Zichen's reputation had improved somewhat; people weren't always trying to ambush him and beat him up in sacks anymore. The shop's business was running smoothly with Feng momo, Yu Ger, and Da Mi handling things. So Zhao Ger headed back to Pingxiang Village.
The two of them rushed back without pause, but the moment they arrived home, they could tell something was off.
Uncle Tang's eyes were red and swollen—he'd clearly just been crying. Under the banyan tree, a bamboo mat was spread out, and Guaizai was lying on it perfectly still, hands folded over his belly, looking utterly serene. Fang Zichen felt as if he'd been struck by lightning—all the color drained from his face, his legs went weak, his mind went blank. His limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each as he stumbled over.
"Son—my son—!"
He'd barely finished wailing when Guaizai rubbed his eyes and woke up, hair a mess like a little vagabond. Spotting Fang Zichen, his eyes lit up: "Father? You're back? Guaizai miss you, oh."
Fang Zichen: "..."
Uncle Tang and Zhao Ger stared at him in confusion, not understanding what he was doing.
"Husband, what's wrong?"
What was wrong? He'd thought he was attending his own child's funeral, that's what!
He glared at Uncle Tang, who looked back at him completely baffled.
"Your eyes were all red..."
Uncle Tang stammered, "The two little young masters went missing. I was worried."
"Then why is he sleeping out here?" Fang Zichen asked helplessly. Around here, that was how they laid out the deceased—no wonder his mind had gone there.
The big tree caught the wind. Today was overcast, looked like rain, and the house was stuffy and hot while outside was breezy. Guaizai had just wanted to take his afternoon nap outdoors.
Zhao Ger wasn't as prone to wild assumptions. He blinked: "Gungun and Dandan went missing again?"
"Mm!" Uncle Tang said, full of self-blame,. "Just one moment of carelessness—I went to the latrine, and by the time I came back, the two little young masters were gone."
Zhao Ger wasn't worried at all. He even comforted Uncle Tang, saying the two little ones were surely somewhere in the house—they'd find them if they looked carefully.
Gungun and Dandan were nearly a year old now. Uncle Tang and Xiao Feng sometimes got busy and couldn't watch them every second. The two little ones crawled everywhere, and they were fast. Once before, they'd crawled under the bed and fallen asleep in there—no one answered when called, and no one could find them. Zhao Ger had been terrified then, cried until his tears ran dry. Fang Zichen had sent out every single imperial guard and Qin family soldier, practically turning Pingxiang Village inside out—even checking people's pigsties. Another time, they'd crawled into a cabinet.
Right now, they were probably asleep somewhere again.
There was no way they could run outside—for fear that the children might actually crawl out, Fang Zichen had three imperial guards stationed not far away.
The two of them rushed back, starving. Zhao Ger wanted to go to the kitchen and cook two bowls of noodles to tide them over. Uncle Tang knew full well that the children were definitely hiding somewhere and that nothing was wrong, but until he actually saw them, he couldn't help worrying—his eyes reddening beyond his control. Right now, he was out searching everywhere for them.
Zhao Ger went to the vegetable patch, picked a handful of small greens, came back, rinsed the pot, and added some water. Just as he was about to stuff kindling into the stove, he found that something seemed to be inside—the firewood simply wouldn't go in, and when he poked at it, it felt rather soft. Zhao Ger bent down for a closer look, then glanced at the other stove beside it—and his face went completely dark.
Fang Zichen was just talking with Guaizai when they heard two sharp smack sounds from the kitchen.
What a familiar noise!
Fang Zichen and Guaizai crept to the kitchen door and peeked in. There were Gungun and Dandan, covered from head to toe in black soot. Since early summer, the two little ones hadn't worn anything but a bellyband—their chubby, bun-like little bottoms always bare for the world to see. But now they weren't white at all—they looked like little lumps of coal. Zhao Ger had them pinned over his knees, one on each leg, and was spanking them left and right, as if he'd been a professional drummer for twenty years—smack on the left, smack on the right. Fang Zichen listened and almost felt there was a rhythm to it.
Gungun and Dandan spotted them and instinctively reached out for help: "Fu fu... stove... stove..."
Fang Zichen instantly became the evil stepfather, and Guaizai suddenly stopped loving his little brothers. The two exchanged a glance and silently walked away, their backs cold and heartless, utterly devoid of compassion.
How could they save them?
If they tried, they might end up dragged into it too.
Better to let a friend suffer than to risk yourself.
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