Chapter 429
That evening there was a full table of dishes, all cooked by Zhao Ger, with Yang Mingyi and Zhou Ger helping out. The children didn't know what was going on. Although Guaizai understood a little, he didn't dare say a word. Seeing his two little brothers eating happily with their bowls, he silently ate too.
When Meng Ruqing saw that Fang Zichen was willing to come out and eat, he breathed a sigh of relief.
He had to eat—he hadn't eaten anything at noon. As the saying goes, people are iron and food is steel; skip a meal and you'll be starving. No matter what's troubling you, you have to get a few bowls of rice in you first.
The local tofu had been pan-fried, then braised with pickled cabbage and beef for almost an hour—flavorful and delicious.
Qin Hengxuan noticed Fang Zichen seemed to like it and nervously placed a piece of tofu in his bowl.
Fang Zichen's body stiffened slightly. He looked up at him, then finally said in a low voice, "Thank you."
Qin Hengxuan hadn't expected Fang Zichen to accept it and couldn't help saying excitedly, "You're welcome—do you like this pickled cabbage?"
"I do! It's very appetizing," Fang Zichen said.
Meng Ruqing also tried to join the conversation. Fang Zichen responded as usual, but before they'd said much, Fang Zichen changed the subject and started chatting with Yang Mingyi.
"Uncle Yang isn't coming over?"
"He has to look after Grandma," Yang Mingyi said.
"I see!" Fang Zichen remembered that Old Madam Zheng was already over seventy. In Da Xia there was no square dancing for her, and this wasn't a village where she could go out for walks. She could only build herself up through food, so her health probably wasn't great:
"Old people really shouldn't overexert themselves. But it's fine—now that you're here, Brother Fang will have your back from now on. I'm not bragging, but I'm doing really well for myself now. If any bastard tries anything with you again, just tell me. I'll chop his legs off. That Wang whatever—his books might as well have been fed to the dogs."
Qin Hengxuan chimed in, "Exactly, exactly. I heard he's only eighteen and already has several concubines and bedchamber maids."
"Really?" He'd thought the guy was a devoted lover who'd been forced to extremes because he couldn't have what he wanted.
Turned out the man already had women on both arms.
So it was plain and simple lust.
Fang Zichen was immediately filled with righteous indignation, forgetting Qin Hengxuan's status. "I'll be damned—a lecherous ghost! He's already got a house full of wives and concubines and still isn't satisfied? Yi Ger, what does that Wang whatever look like?"
Before Yang Mingyi could speak, Guaizai raised his hand. "Guaizai knows, Guaizai knows, Father! He looks just like a person—he has two eyes, two nostrils, and one mouth."
Fang Zichen: "...Is he handsome?"
Guaizai thought about it. "A little bit."
And not just a little—Wang Wenjie had a scholarly air about him, so he was certainly not bad-looking.
Fang Zichen furrowed his brow. "And with just that, he dares covet my brother? Next time I see him, I'll strip his skin off."
Qin Hengxuan smiled. "I'll help you hold him down!"
"Good, Uncle Qin, you're a real pal."
Qin Hengxuan's body stiffened, and he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed, but he still smiled. "Of course."
As he and Fang Zichen played off each other, they surprisingly had a lot in common.
Meng Ruqing watched the two of them like this, unable to put a name to what he felt. He was just about to pick up some food when he lowered his eyes and noticed a piece of chicken had appeared in his bowl.
He looked at Guaizai, who smiled at him: "Pretty Uncle, hurry up and eat. Daddy's stir-fried chicken is really yummy."
Meng Ruqing smiled faintly. The child still remembered that he liked chicken.
The chicken really was good. The chicken dishes at restaurants outside were beautifully plated and appetizing to look at, but today's plate on the table had just been boiled whole, chopped up, stir-fried together, and dumped straight onto a plate with no garnish — yet it smelled wonderful.
Zhao Ger had added a bit of chili oil, crushed garlic, some perilla and cilantro, soy sauce and sesame, and stir-fried it all together haphazardly. The chicken was fried to a golden brown—a little tough, but chewy and fragrant, not greasy at all. Meng Ruqing had never tasted anything like it. One bite and his eyes couldn't help but light up.
Guaizai was gnawing on a big pork trotter, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his little mouth glistening with grease. Chomp—a big piece of fatty meat vanished from the trotter. It had been stewed soft and tender, and he swallowed it down in a few bites: "Pretty Uncle, is it yummy?"
Meng Ruqing said: "Mm! Delicious."
"Then Guaizai will get you some more." He switched to clean chopsticks and gave Meng Ruqing two more pieces before stopping—he didn't take too many, because other people needed to eat too.
Although there were many other dishes on the table, his favorite was his daddy's stir-fried chicken. He'd wanted to share it with Pretty Uncle before, but never had the chance. Now that Pretty Uncle had come home with them, he was just so happy.
Meng Ruqing took out a handkerchief to wipe his mouth: "Thank you, Guaizai."
"You're welcome!"
The table was full of people. A humble household didn't stand on much ceremony—everyone ate and chatted, lively and warm.
Meng Ruqing looked at Qin Hengxuan, then at Fang Zichen, at Zhao Ger sitting beside him, and the children. Earlier his heart had felt like a piece was missing, but now it seemed full. If only the child could call him daddy—then this life would be without regret.
The Liu family's courtyard had been built large, originally in case Zhao Ger and Fang Zichen occasionally brought the children to stay. The cement—Li Yi knew they wanted it—had been delivered by ox cart, and he hadn't asked for any payment. So Uncle Liu decided to build seven rooms. But now, with so many people, there wasn't enough room. Fortunately, there was a rest room at the sweet potato factory. Sometimes when there were a lot of sweet potatoes to peel, they'd work night shifts—otherwise the peeled ones would turn black if left too long. When work ran late, Zhou Ger and Liu Xiaowen would sleep at the factory. There were beds and blankets there, and it was spacious enough, so they said they'd take Liuliu and stay there.
Guaizai had never stayed at the factory before, and immediately said he wanted to go too.
Conditions in the village were rough, but the blankets and such were all new — probably aired in the sun since they knew people were coming, they carried a faint, warm smell of sunshine. Qin Hengxuan was quite comfortable staying there.
However, Meng Ruqing wasn't in the best spirits. Coupled with the fatigue from the journey, by the next day he was vaguely feeling a bit unwell. He had just stepped out of his room when he saw Uncle Liu building a large stove in the courtyard, and Aunt Liu busy scrubbing a pot.
Today they were killing a pig.
Anhe Village had been very poor before—even wild vegetables weren't enough for people to eat, let alone raising pigs for meat. No one in the village did this kind of work, and Fang Zichen certainly didn't know how. Before, in Xiaohe Village, he'd only been to the village chief's house once when they killed a pig, and even then he'd only helped catch the pig—the actual butchering was done by villagers.
Uncle Liu knew perfectly well that Fang Zichen wasn't up to it. Scraping bristles was one thing, but actually letting him stick a knife into a pig — Uncle Liu wouldn't dare allow it. Just catching a pig yesterday had caused such a commotion that the whole village had to turn out, spending an entire afternoon chasing the pigs back. If he let him have a go now, he was afraid Fang Zichen would miss the pig's neck and stab his own thigh instead.
Uncle Liu had arranged with the town butcher two days ago to come today.
The older folks had gotten up early and already been busy for a while. Seeing Meng Ruqing come out — they'd spoken yesterday, and although he looked unapproachable, he was a good person — Aunt Liu wasn't afraid to ask, "How come you're up so early? Couldn't sleep well?"
Meng Ruqing shook his head: "No, just my throat is a bit itchy." He coughed twice as he spoke.
Aunt Liu understood: "You've probably caught a chill. Hurry into the kitchen and warm yourself by the fire. I'll make you some ginger tea."
"Thank you, Sister."
"You're welcome."
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