Fang Zichen asked if Zhao Ger still wanted to play.
Zhao Ger nodded. Fang Zichen glanced at Meng Ruqing, thinking that this "proper young lady of a prominent family" wouldn't want to play along with all the mud everywhere in the fields. But when he asked, Meng Ruqing—wanting more time with Fang Zichen—said he'd go with them.
When Guaizai saw Fang Zichen and Zhao Ger joining in, he was over the moon. He bounced and skipped, drenched in sweat, shouting until his voice went hoarse.
Every so often, bang-bang-bang echoed through the village. Plumes of smoke rose from the fields, dirt went flying, and everyone gathered around to watch the fun. Fang Zichen had blown up whole mountains before, so blowing up rat holes didn't seem all that remarkable to people now. As they watched, rats got blasted out of their holes and scurried everywhere across the fields. Some people chased the rats; others yelped in fright.
Meng Ruqing didn't dare grab them. Whenever a rat came near, he stomped wildly. Gungun and Dandan chased the rats, barking nonstop.
Qin Hengxuan was sprawled in the field, butt in the air, one eye shut as he aimed at a rat hole. A rat, chased into a corner by Yang Mingyi, scrambled right up onto his back.
Qin Hengxuan yelped and shot to his feet, slapping at himself frantically. His collar was loose, and the rat slipped straight down inside his clothes.
His eyes went wide — he froze for a second in shock — then he started jumping and shrieking like a stuck pig.
Meng Ruqing froze for a moment, then burst out laughing.
He rarely laughed this freely. In the past, his face had been cold all year round, but lately he'd been smiling more and more.
Hearing his own laughter, he couldn't help but freeze.
Guaizai came over and tugged at him. "Pretty Uncle, run! A rat's coming this way!"
With a gentle, warm smile on his face, Meng Ruqing ran along with him.
Seeing them in such a mess, flailing around in every ridiculous pose, everyone couldn't help but laugh — they laughed until their stomachs hurt.
Seeing Yang Mingyi and Xiao Feng there too—in the past, people would have found it improper.
Young ladies and gers from wealthy families were supposed to stay behind the gates and never step outside.
The village wasn't so particular. Kids Yang Mingyi's age often did laundry, cut pig feed, or helped in the fields—but those were "proper" tasks. Being diligent could even help them find a better husband.
No one that age went out to play. If there was no work, the adults kept them at home to learn embroidery and such.
But these were Lord Fang's children, and Lord Fang didn't keep them cooped up—surely he had his reasons. And looking at what Lord Fang and the others had done—though people hadn't understood at first, had muttered and disapproved—in the end, hadn't every single thing turned out well?
And with something as shocking as young women and gers becoming soldiers coming first, a bit of playing now didn't seem like a big deal to anyone.
Besides, at twelve or thirteen, they really were still children.
Just then, they noticed a few unmarried girls who had just come back from washing clothes at the river. Holding their basins, they watched the fun along with everyone else, eyes full of envy.
The longing and nostalgia in their eyes somehow made people's hearts ache.
Ah...
When they got home, they wouldn't keep their own daughters cooped up either. Look how happy the kids were playing.
A child's happiness was what mattered most. Otherwise, once they married, wanting to play like this again would be impossible.
There were lots of rats in the fields, always gnawing at the sweet potatoes. The rats weren't thrifty either—small potatoes they'd finish off, and no one would notice much, but big ones they'd always eat half and leave the other half to rot in the ground. Everyone's hearts ached every time they saw it. Before, there was nothing to be done about them. Now, blowing them up was great.
Uncle Liu and Aunt Liu didn't join in. They sat on the edge of the field watching them play, all the noise and chaos, their faces full of smiles.
They played until evening before heading back. At noon they'd caught quite a few rats. Aunt Liu had wanted to take them home and stir-fry them, but Meng Ruqing was afraid, and though Fang Zichen knew these weren't sewer rats, he didn't dare eat them either.
So Aunt Liu didn't bring them back and later distributed them to the villagers.
The sweet potatoes had grown well this year, and the field rats were fatter than usual. In past years when there was nothing to eat at home, villagers had come out to look for rats too. Singe off the fur, wash them clean, and stir-fried they made a delicious dish. The critters were cunning and hard to catch, so getting a few catties of meat for free had everyone happy.
The adults were fine, but the children were covered in mud, as if they'd rolled around in the fields. Every one of them was drenched in sweat. On the way back they couldn't even walk properly—bouncing, skipping, and giggling, like they'd gone mad and couldn't stop. Blowing up rat holes was just too much fun.
They wanted to go again tomorrow.
Qin Hengxuan looked at the children's flushed faces and felt happier than he could say.
He'd gotten a taste of the joy of dandling grandchildren and enjoying a peaceful old age.
After running around all afternoon, he was tired, no question. Qin Hengxuan rested a bit, then called Fang Zichen over to ask whether this thing could be used on the battlefield.
"It can!" Fang Zichen said. "But it's highly lethal."
If it really were used on the battlefield, he felt like he'd be no better than an executioner.
Qin Hengxuan saw his resistance and didn't bring it up again.
He'd finally made real progress with his son, and he wasn't "resisting" him anymore—he couldn't go making his son angry.
Xiao Feng brought back quite a bit of beef when he returned. Zhao Ger thought about it and decided to make barbecue that evening. The last time they had it, Guaizai wasn't there.
That barbecue was delicious — his son would surely love it.
When Aunt Liu heard about it, she asked Zhao Ger a couple of questions, then headed out with her basket and came back with a big bunch of chives.
Uncle Liu went out and cut a bamboo stalk, then went to town to buy a few fish.
The courtyard was piled with food.
The children washed up and came over to help.
They didn't know what "barbecue" was, but if there was meat, it had to be good.
The children were eager little workers — after skewering the beef, they skewered the chives, and they even prepped a good amount of cabbage too.
With so many people, they couldn't just eat beef, so Zhao Ger marinated a big basin of pork as well. Pork was more tender grilled after marinating; cut and grilled directly, it would turn out dry, tough, and get stuck in your teeth.
There wasn't much wind today. A fire was lit in the courtyard, the coals burning bright, so it wasn't too cold.
Meng Ruqing learned to make it alongside them. Gungun and Dandan chased each other around the crowd, running and playing. After an afternoon of running, they didn't seem tired at all—bursting with energy.
The village conditions were crude—no maids to look after them, and the Qin family soldiers they'd brought were staying at the yamen. They had to do everything themselves, which was more tiring, but Meng Ruqing was happy to do it. Small households envied the wealthy life of grand mansions—the crowds of servants waiting on nobles, never having to lift a finger. But in truth, this plain, simple life of an ordinary household had its own special flavor.
Warm, cozy, lively—things hard to imagine or find in a grand mansion.
Romance and moonlight may be scenery, but firewood, rice, oil, and salt are all poetry.
Qin Hengxuan had eaten barbecue before, but never barbecue this fragrant.
The iron rack went up, the beef was laid on, grilled until half done, brushed with chili oil, sprinkled with cumin—and the smell came right out.
Unbelievably fragrant.
Gungun and Dandan started drooling on the spot — there was no stopping it. Meng Ruqing couldn't wipe it away fast enough. They gulped loudly, and the two little ones didn't want to play anymore — they ran to the table and sat up straight and proper, waiting for Zhao Ger to feed them.
The two families grilled and ate, chatting about everyday things and about the children—so lively.
Qin Hengxuan glanced at Fang Zichen, wishing he could take him home right that instant. He knew his mother must be waiting anxiously, but it was the New Year season—if they went back now, he and the boy would likely spend their first New Year on the road.
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