Wang Linchang himself was far from clean — he just hadn't made any major mistakes, so no one had bothered to investigate him.
Once the matter blew up, it caused a huge uproar. When the common people asked around, they learned the truth as well.
"Oh my, who'd have thought! That Wang family young master seemed so refined. Didn't expect him to be that kind of person."
"Exactly. And a scholar too! Pfft."
"That's what they mean by 'you know a person's face but not their heart.' But have you seen the Yang family's ger? Is he really that handsome?"
"Haven't seen him. But my brother went to Fu'an Town and ate at his restaurant. I heard his looks there are like this." The man gave a thumbs-up.
"I heard before that the newly arrived prefect was a good man. Never thought he'd be corrupt too."
"If he were really good, he wouldn't have raised his child like that. If the Yang family hadn't known someone, wouldn't they have been forced into marriage? A scholar, an official's son — when he couldn't get what he wanted, he used such filthy methods. Truly shameless."
"Exactly. I heard the Yang family's restaurant was shut down. That's their livelihood. Pressuring them like that is no different than trying to kill them. You can tell a lot from small things. Today he does this for the sake of a ger — who knows what he'll do in the future! If someone like that becomes an official, what then?"
After venting their anger, Guaizai bought a huge pile of food and supplies and ran back to Xiaohe Village.
Liu Dali and He Xiaodong recognized him at a glance. They were overjoyed to see him back. Uncle Liu (ger) kept stroking his head, tears streaming down.
Guaizai had returned.
When word spread through the village, everyone came to see him. They crowded around Guaizai, peppering him with questions.
Xiaohe Village was still much the same. The mountains still stood there, lush and green. The river was still clear. Several years had passed — the mountains hadn't changed, but the people had. Everyone had aged a great deal.
Guaizai went to Uncle Liu's house. Apart from the Liu family and the village chief's family, Uncle Liu had treated him the best in the whole of Xiaohe Village. Every time he saw him on the road, he would secretly slip him some peanuts.
Not many—just a handful or two, maybe a dozen or so. But back then, peanuts were an extremely rare treat in Guaizai's eyes. At least they tasted better than wild vegetables, sweeter than fruit.
Every time he got some, he was overjoyed. He treasured them carefully, tucking them inside his clothes and clutching them tight with both hands, too afraid to go anywhere lest someone snatch them or he drop them. He would squat in the woodshed the whole time, waiting for Zhao Ger to come back at night so they could eat them together. Sitting in that old, broken woodshed, eating those incredibly delicious peanuts—that was one of the few happiest moments in those three years for Guaizai.
This time, he brought Uncle Liu several bolts of cloth and several boxes of pastries.
The cloth was from Yuanzhou, bright and vivid in color. Uncle Liu's daughter-in-law's eyes lit up when she saw it, but she didn't dare touch it.
Uncle Liu held Guaizai and questioned him in detail. After Guaizai left, Uncle Liu's daughter-in-law asked, "Dad, what should we do with all this?"
"Keep it," Uncle Liu said, seeing her eyes sparkling with joy. "This child remembers us. He knows how to be grateful." He sighed softly, looking outside, and recalled:
"He's just like Zhao Ger. Back then when I gave him peanuts, Zhao Ger would always chop firewood and send it to our house in return—never took anything for free. The child was so small back then, thin as a stick, always bullied by the other kids in the village, afraid of everyone. Cold or hot, he always followed Zhao Ger running all over the hills. I really felt sorry for him! Now he's blessed too. Young Fang has raised him well. People who know gratitude can't be all that bad."
After leaving the village chief's house, Guaizai went to Wu Ger's place and sat for a while.
After Zuixiao Restaurant closed, Wu Ger had no work. But he was a hard worker, willing to take on any dirty or tiring job. At first he was only supposed to wash vegetables and tend the fire in the kitchen, but whenever it got busy up front, he would run out to clear bowls and wipe tables. Yang Mingyi saw all of this, so he paid him higher wages.
Over the years, Wu Ger had saved quite a bit of silver. His family didn't have much land. The officials said chemical fertilizer worked well—even newly opened wasteland could grow something. So Wu Ger paid the silver and opened six mu of wasteland. Life was manageable now. Maybe they couldn't have meat at every meal, but at least they weren't going hungry.
Back when Guaizai was around, he loved taking his goat over to see Wu Ger's son whenever he had free time. Now the child could run. Village kids who ate well and ran around everywhere grew sturdy. He was already a little taller than Guaizai—with a tiger-like head and a sturdy, adorable look.
Wu Ger hadn't expected Guaizai to still remember him. Seeing him visit, he was so happy he didn't know what to do. He told his child to call him "brother." The child blinked his eyes, not shy at all, and obediently called out, "Brother."
"Little brother has grown so tall!" Guaizai laughed, pulling out a small gold lock from his pocket. "This is for little brother."
It was pure yellow gold—at least several taels. Wu Ger panicked, waving his hands repeatedly, saying he couldn't accept it, it was far too valuable. But Guaizai insisted on giving it to him.
After that, he wandered around the village again, and finally stood outside the Ma family's gate for a long time.
Old Master Ma and Old Madam Ma had passed away years ago. Ma Laoda and the others had left and never returned.
Ma Xiaoshun hid in his room the whole time, not daring to come out, thinking Guaizai had come for revenge. But Guaizai only looked at their woodshed, not sparing him even a glance.
Meng shi secretly came looking for him, asking how Xiao Feng had been all these years.
Married to a useless man, Meng-shi looked much older. Guaizai almost didn't recognize her. He told her everything in detail, and Meng-shi wept as she nodded over and over, saying that was good, that was good.
After Meng-shi left, the village chief pressed a key into his hand and asked if he wanted to go home and take a look.
Of course he did.
This house was originally the village chief's ancestral home. It was already rundown, but after Zhao Ger bought it, he had people repair it. The cracked mud walls were patched, and tiles were laid on top. But after being empty for several years—though the village chief came to clean every year—moss had grown on the roof, wild grass sprouted, and the small kitchen window was covered in spider webs. It looked quite decayed.
Guaizai walked around inside. When he came out, his eyes were red. He distributed the pastries and candy he had bought to his childhood friends, bragged with them for a while, said goodbye to each one, and then immediately rushed back to town without stopping.
He missed his father and daddy so much.
Liu Dali chased after him, running a long way until his eyes eventually grew misty.
Childhood playmates — their last farewell had been five years ago. At this farewell, who knew when they would meet again.
Guaizai originally wanted to say goodbye to Yang Mingyi before going back: "Uncle Yang, do you want to come with Guaizai?"
"Yes."
Yang Mutao had already returned. After going through all this, he had thought it over carefully and still wanted Yang Mingyi to follow Guaizai to Hezhou to seek refuge with Fang Zichen.
There was more than one Wang Wenjie in this world. No man could resist beauty. Today it was the Wang family's young master, tomorrow it could be some other family's young master. Officials could cover the sky with one hand—ordinary people like them couldn't fight back.
He didn't want Yang Mingyi to end up in such a hopeless situation again. If they hadn't run into Guaizai this time, Yang Mingyi's whole life would have been truly ruined. This past year had been hard on him, but even harder on Yang Mingyi. The child was sensitive—constantly blaming himself while living in constant fear.
Yang Mingyi's appearance, for powerless commoners like them, was nothing but a death warrant.
No comments:
Post a Comment