"Wang Ger, how's your boy doing? Wasn't he stung the day before yesterday? Feeling any better now?"
"Much better. The night before last he was in so much pain he couldn't sleep, but I didn't hear him complaining today. Though ever since he heard those conscription officers are heading to Hezhou for training, he's been going on and on about wanting to join the army too."
"My boy's the same—won't listen no matter what I say. His father gave him a good thrashing, and then he had the nerve to blame his father for it!"
"Blame him for what?"
"He said if his father were the Prefect, then he could pull some strings too and get to join the army."
"Ah?" Someone didn't understand. "What kind of strings?"
One of the fulangs laughed. "My boy said Young Master Guaizai gets special treatment—he can join the army whenever he wants."
"But I saw the young master just today!"
"Young Master Guaizai didn't go," said the fulang, still chuckling. "He said the Prefect always forgets to grab a stick when he goes to the latrine, and can't find one on his own either. The young master said if he left, there'd be no one to fetch the wooden scraping stick for the Prefect. Lord Fang's sticks don't make the scraping smell right—only the branches Young Master breaks off work properly. The Prefect can't do without him, so he has to stay home and take care of things."
Zhao Ger: "..."
Fang Zichen: "..."
Zhao Ger let out a snort and couldn't hold back his laughter. The women in the front fields were laughing too.
Clearly, not a single one of them doubted the truth of this story.
So that's how it was! They'd always thought the Prefect—a scholarly man who could not only write essays and read characters but also understood farming matters—was some sort of genius who could do everything. Turned out, their Prefect wasn't omnipotent after all. Something as simple as finding a wooden strip—their Prefect couldn't even do that! They'd heard that the county secretary, who originally came from Guang'an Village—though that was several dozen li away from their Pingxiang Village—was said to be completely useless at everything except reading books; they said he couldn't even pick up chopsticks if he dropped them!
Finding a scraping stick was far harder than picking up chopsticks—there was real skill to it. Some types of wood would make a person's skin itch when touched, so those couldn't be used for wiping. Others were too slippery or had splinters—those wouldn't do either.
Fang Zichen immediately whipped his head toward Guaizai. Guaizai tilted his head up, knowing he was probably in for it. He gave Fang Zichen a placating grin. At this moment, Fang Zichen looked at that still-swollen little mouth of his. Now he finally understood why those wasps just had to sting him right on the lips—what else was that mouth good for, if not for running spreading rumors about him?
Fang Zichen's chest heaved. He handed the basket to Zhao Ger, looked around, and found a wooden branch.
Plenty of fallen twigs lay at the foot of the mountain. Fang Zichen picked one up at random.
Everyone was still laughing when suddenly a small figure darted past, moving so fast it kicked up a gust of wind.
They all looked over and saw their Prefect, wooden branch raised high, chasing Guaizai in hot pursuit.
Guaizai ran like the wind—his two little legs were practically a blur.
Everyone froze.
Good heavens—that young master looked so short and stocky, but who would have guessed he could run that fast? Even quicker than that big dog the Prefect kept.
Fang Zichen was fuming, feeling like his reputation was ruined beyond repair. "You little brat—don't you run!"
"Child-beating! Child-beating! Father's a monster! Is there no justice? Won't someone save poor Guaizai?!"
Fang Zichen's branch landed on Guaizai's backside with a whack. Guaizai yelped, clutching his butt and jumping. "That hurts! Father's a heartless brute!"
Fang Zichen was practically grinding his teeth. "You little devil—say that again!"
Zhao Ger was doubled over behind them, laughing so hard he could barely stand.
Fang Zichen chased Guaizai from the west end of the village to the east, then back from the east to the west. He was panting heavily, while Guaizai trotted ahead with a cheerful grin, clearly finding the whole thing thrilling.
Fang Zichen's gaze darkened as he watched that little figure. The child really hadn't been training in vain. He himself had been too busy this past year and hadn't exercised much—now he was out of shape and couldn't even catch his own son. He'd have to find time to work out again, or else he wouldn't even be able to discipline his son properly.
When Guaizai saw him stop, the little guy jogged in place, looked back with a smile—his face still swollen like a pig's head—and waved him on. "Come catch me, Great King!"
Fang Zichen: "..."
The Great King didn't want to catch him. The Great King wanted to throw up.
Zhao Ger ignored them. Once home, he sat in the courtyard picking out bee pupae. The outside of the wasp nest was a hard shell—once broken off, the honeycomb was covered with a layer of white membrane. He tore that off and picked out the pupae inside. They were plump and white—some were still grubs, while others had already grown legs and started to resemble wasps, though they were still white. These immature wasps stopped moving once they came out of the comb, but the undeveloped pupae kept wriggling around in the basket. Fang Zichen had just entered the courtyard gate, dragging Guaizai by the scruff of his collar, when he saw the basket full of fat grubs—and his whole face went pale.
Zhao Ger heard the door slam shut—Fang Zichen had vanished.
Guaizai ran over. "Daddy, let Guaizai help! Ah, what are these wriggly little things?"
"These are wasp larvae," Zhao Ger said. "wasps start out as these little grubs."
Guaizai blinked. "Is that so?"
Zhao Ger shot him a glance but didn't ask how Fang Zichen had disciplined him. Probably not much—his husband doted on the boy too much. Even when genuinely angry, all he'd do was squeeze his butt or give a symbolic swat. No worry he'd actually hurt the kid. "Later, you take these to Uncle Zhang Quan and have them fry them up for you to eat."
"Why?"
"Your father's scared of them, so we won't fry them at home," Zhao Ger said.
Guaizai picked up a bee grub and held it in his palm. It was lively, flipping about constantly—plump and rather cute. Guaizai couldn't understand why his father was afraid. These things didn't bite. Crabs, though—those were genuinely frightening!
These little grubs were perfect with wine. By the time they finished picking, they had filled an entire large plate.
Zhang Quan and the others had set up tents by the paper mill and usually stayed there. When they saw Guaizai approaching with a basket on his arm, leading Gungun and Dandan along, they knew why he'd come. Zhang Quan stared at that plate of bee pupae and nearly drooled.
The paper mill had a canteen, staffed by a few young gers and women they'd brought back from Shunan. Zhang Quan had the kitchen staff fry the pupae until they turned golden brown and gave off a rich, mouthwatering aroma.
Zhang Quan called over the Imperial Guard soldiers stationed there to share the meal.
This stuff was delicious but rare. Wasp nests were usually built in lush trees, hidden in thick grass, or underground in cool, shady spots—hard to find. Even in the capital, they couldn't get them easily. They were lucky today.
Zhang Quan and Shi Linjie's monthly stipends came from Xia Jinghong and the Qin family—Fang Zichen had approved it all before letting them stay. Otherwise, with thirty Imperial Guards and forty Qin family soldiers—seventy men in total—Fang Zichen knew his monthly allowance of just over two hundred copper coins could never support that many. If he had to pay them himself, he'd rather have no one. He'd just lie low on Hezhou, and if things got really bad, he'd carry an extra brick or two when going out.
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