When they'd first arrived at Hezhou, Zhang Quan and the others had brought several tents. They set one up now, and the rice and vegetables they'd purchased were piled inside—several large bags. The men were sitting on the ground resting.
Zhang Quan stood nearby with a few of the Qin family soldiers. No one was scolding or beating anyone.
Watching this scene, the villagers felt reassured.
The ground here was full of small stones and very uncomfortable. Guaizai was used to his afternoon nap. Zhao Ger sat with him under a tree, holding the boy in his arms. Afraid he might get cold, Zhao Ger wrapped him in the cloak he'd brought.
As soon as Guaizai was full, he grew drowsy. "Daddy..."
Zhao Ger kissed his forehead. "Mm, Daddy's here. Sleep now."
It had been a long time since Guaizai had fallen asleep in his arms. The boy squirmed a little, found a comfortable position, breathed in his daddy's familiar scent and soon fell fast asleep.
Zhao Ger opened his little hands to check them. There were no blisters, but they were still red, so he gently rubbed them.
The work was tiring. Zhao Ger had seen the boy carrying stones to a distant pile, his face flushed with exhaustion. Of course, he felt a pang of sympathy—but since the child wanted to do it, Zhao Ger didn't stop him. Being too pampered wasn't good either. In truth, children of noble families were no different from common folk—one was just poorer, the other had a bit more silver at home.
Earlier, when Guaizai had gone to help at the shop, Yu Ger and the others had just arrived. They were shocked and rushed over to stop him, saying that was work for servants and the young master shouldn't be doing it.
Why couldn't he?
Even though Fang Zichen was a bit unreliable, one had to admit: the child had learned a great deal from him.
Now, during the day, he followed them out to work; in the evening, he went home to read and practice martial arts. He hadn't slacked off on anything. Earlier, before Fang Zichen left to take his post in Hezhou, Master Ji had come to their door specifically and said, "This child is studious and bright. Leave him in the capital for me to teach. Rest assured, I will treat him well—six bowls of rice a day, and if he won't eat, I'll pour it down his throat myself. He won't go hungry or cold."
Zhao Song had also urged them to leave Guaizai in the capital. But Fang Zichen refused. If they left the boy in the capital, they wouldn't see their son for five whole years—and that was simply unbearable.
Before this, Zhao Ger had been busy, and before that, he'd been pregnant. It had been a long time since he'd held his child to sleep. Looking now, Guaizai's features hadn't changed much—his height, though...
Well, better not mention that.
At this moment, he lay quietly in his arms, fast asleep. His features were gentle, obedient, and completely defenseless—and in that moment, he looked exactly like his husband.
Gungun and Dandan were now over four months old. Looking at them now, their features hadn't fully developed yet, and it wasn't easy to tell who they resembled. But he felt that Gungun's eyes and brow were a bit like his own, and they both had round faces. Dandan, however, didn't look like either him or Fang Zichen.
Fang Zichen wasn't like other men who only valued sons—he treated Gungun and Dandan equally well, and as for Guaizai, he doted on him to the bone.
Though he himself often disciplined Guaizai, it wasn't that he didn't love him.
Zhao Ger planted a kiss on Guaizai's flushed little cheek. Guaizai's little mouth twitched, and he let out a drowsy murmur of "Daddy," but he didn't wake up.
Lao Wang's eldest daughter-in-law wiped her hands and came over. She wasn't afraid of Zhao Ger, but her manner was respectful.
"Young Master, is there anything else you need us to do?"
They only provided one meal—lunch—and wouldn't need to make steamed buns for the evening.
Zhao Ger thought for a moment and said, "Are there people in your village selling firewood?"
For cooking and stir-frying, they'd need to make fires. They could buy firewood in town, but transporting it back would be inconvenient. Besides, the village was poor, so letting everyone earn a couple of copper coins would be a good thing.
Lao Wang's eldest daughter-in-law caught on quickly and said excitedly, "Yes, yes there are!"
There were no big trees on Stone Mountain, but plenty of arm-thick ones! With the busy farming season coming up, every household in the village had stockpiled some; otherwise, once the planting got busy, there'd be no time to go chop wood.
Guaizai rubbed his eyes, probably woken by the noise. Lao Wang's eldest daughter-in-law was about to apologize, but Zhao Ger raised his hand to stop her. He gently patted Guaizai until the boy was sleeping soundly again, then whispered, "Go and buy some for me—we'll need it for cooking over the next few days."
Lao Wang's eldest daughter-in-law quietly agreed.
If she'd gone to the village to buy in the morning, she wouldn't have found any.
But now, some people should be willing to sell.
She went back to the village and called out, and soon quite a few women and fulangs hurried over carrying firewood.
This prefect's fulang was generous—nothing like the previous officials. He even gave the workers wotous to eat, so surely he wouldn't cheat them out of their money.
Zhao Ger bought twenty bundles first, at a price of four copper coins per bundle.
Back in Xiaohe Village, a bundle of firewood went for eight or nine copper coins, but Hezhou was different. It was poor here, with lower prices—a catty of pork cost only eight copper coins.
Everyone went away happy with their coins. Zhao Ger then counted out twelve copper coins and gave them to Lao Wang's eldest daughter-in-law: "Those three bundles you brought from home this morning—here's the money for them."
"Young Master, you can't! They're just a few bundles of firewood, not worth anything—the whole mountain is full of them."
"Everyone else got paid, so you should take yours too. Chopping wood isn't easy—this is what you've earned."
Lao Wang's eldest daughter-in-law's eyes turned misty. "Young Master, you have a kind heart."
Zhao Ger just smiled.
That evening, when the appointed time came, Zhang Quan called out again for the men to gather.
"What's this for?"
"No idea."
Guaizai rushed to the front again, standing on tiptoe in front of a table. Zhao Ger watched him, eyes wide open, looking just like someone coming to collect his wages—and couldn't help but find it amusing.
He handed Guaizai a slip of white paper, about ten centimeters long and as wide as a finger, stamped with an intricate bright red official seal, and said in an official tone: "This is your wage slip—keep it safe."
The people behind heard this and wondered: What on earth is a wage slip? What are we supposed to do with it?
Zhao Ger heard their murmuring, paused for a moment, then explained: "A wage slip is proof that you've worked. We pay wages every six days. After six days, you bring your wage slip, and we'll give you your pay."
Paying every single day was too troublesome—with over a hundred workers, the line would never end, and counting out copper coins would make their fingers cramp.
Tomorrow, when everyone came to work, they'd bring their wage slips and get them stamped. Then they could just count the stamps to know how many days they'd worked.
The crowd went silent for a moment, then burst into excited noise.
"We get paid?!"
Their voices were trembling and urgent—stunned and incredulous.
They wondered if this was good fortune, or if they were dreaming.
But the wage slip was right there in their hands—a thin little piece of paper, yet suddenly feeling very heavy.
"…Yes." Zhao Ger paused, his movements halting. He looked up, somewhat bewildered, at Lao Wang: "Didn't you explain all this to them before?"
Lao Wang looked just as dumbfounded, then his face flushed a little.
He hadn't known himself—what was there to explain?
That day, the imperial guards had ridden into the village on horseback and handed him a document: "The prefect wants to dig a canal and needs conscripted labor. Inform the villagers—any household with two men must send at least one."
As for the characters on that document, he only recognized 'person,' 'long,' and 'work.' As for the rest, even with guessing, he couldn't make sense of it.
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