MLH | Chapter 22
Just after taking the meat and about to leave, Fang Zichen saw an old man selling tanghulu.
He suddenly remembered that, for all this time, he had not bought anything for that cheap son of his.
Good Boy was still pretty cute, helping Zhao-ge’er with work every day, and whenever he saw him, he would always call out in one breath, ‘Father, Father’.
There were still four tanghulu skewers stuck in the straw, and Fang Zichen thought it over, then called out to the old man, “Uncle, give me three.”
The old man looked at him, his clothes were rough old cloth, but his face looked delicate and noble, and smiled. “Little brother, there are only the last few left. Why not buy them all? It isn’t easy walking the streets and lanes, just take pity on this old man.”
“I take pity on you, who’s going to take pity on me?” Fang Zichen patted his purse to show him. “Hear that sound? There are only a dozen wen in here, and that’s still the blood and sweat money I earned after carrying big loads all day. I’m really helpless!”
The fabric at his shoulder was a little dirty. The old man saw that he was tall, but looked very thin, and had not expected that he actually went to carry big loads.
It was all to make a living.
He stopped acting pitiful and said, “It isn’t easy, little brother. I’ll give you the last one.”
Fang Zichen smiled. “That’s great, thanks.”
Fang Zichen was not used to coarse rice, and as soon as he made some money he bought rice and flour. Those things were precious, and Zhao-ge’er had not eaten them since he was seven.
Fang Zichen’s work was hard, and knowing that he was picky, Zhao-ge’er tried every way he could, within limited conditions, to make the best things possible.
Today Zhou-ge’er had come to bring him clothes, and had given him a handful of sour cabbage. So tonight he made steamed buns, filled with sour cabbage.
Not long after the buns went on to steam, the smell came out. Good Boy and Liuliu stopped playing, and the two of them pressed together at the door to look inside.
“Daddy～” Good Boy called, slurping his saliva.
Zhao-ge’er looked into the pot and said, “Not done yet, you have to wait a bit, you should go play in the yard first, okay.”
Good Boy and Liuliu were not children who made a fuss for food. The two of them glanced at the pot, answered with an mm, and ran out to play in the yard.
Not long after, Zhao-ge’er heard an exclamation from outside.
“Father is back～”
Zhao-ge’er hurried to the door and saw Fang Zichen carrying things in his hand, with a child tucked under each armpit.
A smile unconsciously appeared on his face. “You’re back.”
“Mm! I bought meat, take it.” Fang Zichen said.
After taking the meat and going into the kitchen, he found there were two pieces. Zhao-ge’er thought about it and planned to fry one later, and leave the other for tomorrow night.
The pork skin meat was not greasy, and there were not many ingredients at home. After the buns were steamed, Zhao-ge’er washed the pork head meat clean, cut it into small pieces, and stir-fried it together with the remaining sour cabbage and the wild scallions he had dug up on the mountain in the afternoon, thinking it should be delicious.
While he was busy, Fang Zichen came in.
Something brushed past the corner of Zhao-ge’er’s mouth. He subconsciously licked it, and found that it was sweet.
Fang Zichen held up the tanghulu and asked, “Sweet?”
“Mm!” Zhao-ge’er said.
“Here,” Fang Zichen took the shovel from his hand. “I’ll stir-fry it.”
“I won’t eat it, you eat it!” Zhao-ge’er would not let go.
This tanghulu was expensive!
One skewer cost two wen.
Fang Zichen did not waste words with him either, and directly pushed the tanghulu against Zhao-ge’er’s mouth. “There, it’s got your saliva on it. If you don’t eat it, I can only throw it away.”
Good Boy and Liuliu sat in the yard holding their tanghulu and licking them, neither of them willing to bite.
This was their first time eating this stuff.
So what Ma Xiaowang said was true, this tanghulu really was sweet and sour.
When Fang Zichen handed out the tanghulu to them, Liuliu was too embarrassed to take it, and only accepted it after Fang Zichen forced it into his hands. Good Boy, on the other hand, took it quickly, and after saying thank you, he called Fang Zichen to squat down, saying he wanted to give him a kiss.
Zhao-ge’er came outside and sat with them.
Good Boy looked at the tanghulu in his hand and smiled, then spoke to Zhao-ge’er like it was a secret, “Daddy, Father is good, he bought tanghulu for Good Boy and Daddy to eat.”
Zhao-ge’er asked, “Then do you like Father or not?”
“Like him,” Good Boy said immediately. “I like Father the most.”
Zhao-ge’er did not bother arguing with him that the person he liked most was Fang Zichen. He bit into the tanghulu, and his heart turned sweet and sour along with it.
Before, when Ma Dazhuang worked in town, after work he would often buy tanghulu for his silly son when he came back.
He had watched from far away a few times. Ma Damu was on guard against him, as if afraid that once she was not around, he would rush up to snatch it.
Once, when Ma Damu saw him swallowing his saliva, she scolded him, “Want to eat it? You should look at what sort of fate you have first. Can people like you eat this? A wretch with a cheap life, what are you looking at? Get back to the wood shed.”
After he returned to the wood shed, he peeked out again through the crack in the door.
He was young then, and did not understand what shame or self-respect was. Even after being scolded, he still could not help wanting to look.
Because he was really too hungry, and the silly child ate so happily that he could not help wanting to look.
Later, because he never got to eat it, yet always remembered it, it became something he longed for.
Now someone had bought it for him, and he was especially happy.
“Zhao-ge’er, come in quickly! See if this dish is done? My hand is about to go sore.” Fang Zichen called from the kitchen.
He had never cooked before, and as soon as he took the shovel, he kept stir-frying nonstop, afraid that his meat would burn.
Zhao-ge’er had experience cooking. He did not even need to look, and said based on the timing, “It’s ready.”
When Zhou-ge’er came to pick up Liuliu, the few of them were eating.
There were some crispy bits near the ear on the pork head meat. Liuliu, along with Good Boy, held buns in their little hands and bit down with crunching sounds.
“The meat is so good.” Good Boy said with a slurred mouth.
Fang Zichen saw that the bun in his hand was even bigger than his little face, and when he bit into it, it looked as if he were covering his face with the bun, and found it funny. “Is the bun tasty or is the steamed bread tasty?”
Good Boy looked at the bun in his hand and thought about it. He felt that steamed bread was tasty too, but-
“The bun is a little bit tastier.” he said.
Fang Zichen smiled and poked Liuliu, asking, “What about Liuliu?”
Liuliu shook his head. “I’ve never eaten steamed bread.”
Fang Zichen looked toward Zhao-ge’er, and Zhao-ge’er said, “Auntie Liu’s family isn’t very well off either.”
He briefly explained Auntie Liu’s family situation.
Fang Zichen understood.
Simply put, the man in the family had no skills and only knew how to farm, but the land given to outside households was small, and the family only had four mu of thin fields. Their only son, because they could not afford the taxes, had been dragged off to be a soldier three years ago.
These days, poverty was not all because of laziness.
Old Uncle Liu was old, and no one wanted him when he went to town looking for work. If the family wanted to make money, they had to rely on Auntie Liu and Zhou-ge’er.
They would occasionally go to town to sell some vegetables, or take in some clothes to wash. Scattered together over a month, they could still make fifty or sixty wen.
But what could fifty or sixty wen do?
People who farmed did not eat their fill just by planting fields. Oil, salt, cloth, which one did not cost money? And this stuff was not something you could just grow by planting it.
Fang Zichen pitied him. He pinched his face, and just from the way the man had called him uncle earlier, he said, “It’s fine. Come to uncle’s house tomorrow, uncle will bring you some.”
Liuliu was a little shy. “Thank you, Uncle.” He looked at Zhao-ge’er and said, “Uncle Zhao, tomorrow I’ll go with you and Good Boy to gather firewood. I’m very good at gathering firewood.”
“Then you’re not going with your daddy to plant vegetables?” Zhao-ge’er asked with a smile.
Liuliu shook his head. “I ate tanghulu, I have to repay kindness!”
Fang Zichen was almost laughing himself to death. “You even know how to repay kindness?”
“Know,” Liuliu said. “I heard Uncle and Uncle-Borrows talk about it.”
Fang Zichen: “How did they say it?”
The villagers had no entertainment. Some people liked to sit under the banyan tree at the village entrance after dinner, and often chatted about gossip or said all kinds of mysterious things.
Liuliu could not say it anymore. He had only caught a few words and knew there was such a thing as repaying kindness. Seeing that his little friend was stumped, Good Boy immediately came to the rescue: “It’s like the fox spirit repaying the scholar! On the way to the exams, the scholar saved the fox spirit, and then the fox spirit turned into a big beautiful woman to marry the scholar, sleep sleep with the scholar, and wash his clothes and cook meals for him.”
Fang Zichen: “······”
What a cheesy story.
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