Chapter 258
Guaizai was silent for a moment, then lowered his eyes and simply said, "Didn't see Daddy, missed Daddy."
Before Fang Zichen arrived, he would stick to Zhao Ger. Later, when Fang Zichen came, he had someone else to cling to. When Fang Zichen went to work, he would follow Zhao Ger at home; when Zhao Ger was busy at the shop, he would follow Fang Zichen. No matter the time, there was always someone by his side.
But today, arriving at Old Master Wu's residence, with neither Fang Zichen nor Zhao Ger present, and the two Wu children weren't exactly welcoming toward him, so Guaizai just wanted to come back.
"Daddy missed you too." Zhao Ger lifted him onto his lap and gave him a kiss: "But Guaizai is growing up now, you can't always stick to Daddy. You need to learn to be independent."
Guaizai pinched his fingers together and whispered, "But..."
"A real man is very strong." Zhao Ger said: "Is our Guaizai a real man?"
That statement changed everything.
"Yes~" Guaizai immediately shed his dejected look, puffing out his little chest: "Guaizai has a wee-wee! Guaizai is a big man now."
Zhao Ger smiled and patted his head.
This kid is also a bit simple-minded.
He'd come in laughing just moments ago, roughhousing with his father all the way home, his head covered in sweat. His little moment of sadness lasted barely a second—once Zhao Ger cheered him up, he was back to his usual self, as if nothing had happened. He was just that kind of child who never let anything bother him for long.
After eating, the whole family went back to keeping watch.
By the time they arrived, the sky wasn't dark yet. Fang Zichen took out the boxing gloves, specially made by a seamstress back in Fu'an Town and stuffed with cotton.
He started practicing with Guaizai.
Zhao Ger watched from the side. Fang Zichen's punches were incredibly fast—high, low, left, right—switching up his attacks constantly. But Guaizai was like a loach, covering his ears with both hands, squatting in a horse stance, slippery and elusive, twisting his little body as he dodged left and right with quick reflexes.
His dodging skills had improved greatly. Before, he couldn't predict Fang Zichen's punching movements and speed, getting hit a few times and crying out "Ouch, ouch," which really made Zhao Ger's heart ache.
Later, after watching more and getting used to it, Zhao Ger became as hard as stone, not feeling bothered at all. If Guaizai went a day without getting hit, he actually found it strange.
Guaizai had been training for over half a year now, and the strength in his hands and legs had developed tremendously. He had mastered the three major Muay Thai techniques—the flying knee, the low roundhouse kick, and the elbow strike—to perfection.
Though he was small, he could spring up like a frog, leaping with a bent knee to strike someone's chin. A single leg sweep could crack a person's bones.
At home, Zhao Ger once saw him kick and snap a wooden stick as thick as an arm.
His heart had raced at the sight. For a moment, he didn't know whether to check his son's little foot or secretly feel relieved—fortunately his child was obedient. If he were mischievous, having learned martial arts, when Zhao Ger tried to discipline him later, he might just get beaten up in return. He could even end up with a limp.
A son beating his father—such things had happened in the village before!
He looked over at Fang Zichen. His husband had nearly suffered such a fate.
Back when they were still in Xiaohe Village, Fang Zichen was teaching Guaizai some fighting techniques. He told him that when facing an enemy, he had to strike hard and fast. If his opponent was stronger, he couldn't give them any chance to recover—he needed to learn to end the fight with a single, decisive move. Since he'd already explained this before, he then said, "How do you deliver a fatal blow? Come on, practice with me."
Guaizai scratched his head, thought for a moment, then made his move against Fang Zichen.
He feinted an attack to the east but struck west. After one hit, he unexpectedly leaped up and aimed a kick straight at Fang Zichen's crotch.
Guaizai's strength was astonishing. Combined with over half a year of training and one-on-one professional coaching from Fang Zichen, the results were remarkable. He could kick Liu Gouzi so hard his teeth flew out. If that kick had landed, Fang Zichen felt his manhood would either be dead or crippled. He reacted swiftly, blocking the kick with his arm. The sharp pain shooting through his arm made his face pale, then flush red with anger.
This damned kid—when told to deliver a fatal blow, he actually aimed for the lower path.
That day, Fang Zichen chased Guaizai over two hills. When he finally caught him, he grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and dragged him back. Unable to bring himself to hit the boy, he instead whispered in Zhao Ger's ear. The next day, Guaizai got two smacks, two bright red palm prints on his bottom. The silly boy, tears streaming, still threw himself into Fang Zichen's arms, wailing that he was so pitiful, like a little cabbage in the field.
Little cabbage, yellowing in the field.
At three, lost my mother, living with father was still okay.
Just afraid father would take a stepmother.
Took a stepmother, three and a half years later, gave birth to a brother stronger than me.
Brother eats noodles, I drink the broth.
Picking up the bowl, tears streaming down.
[Little Cabbage (小白菜): a famous Chinese folk song]
He had just finished singing this tearfully when Zhao Ger, hearing it from the kitchen, came out with a dark face and gave him another slap. Guaizai didn't dare cry or sing anymore. He crawled onto Fang Zichen's lap, sat up straight and proper, and quietly shut his mouth.
---
Guaizai trained until he was drenched in sweat. The day before, Daxiong had mentioned there was a small stream up the road to the left after turning at the main path. If they came at night, they could go there to wash their faces.
Zhao Ger was a clean person. Right away, he called Fang Zichen and Guaizai to go to the stream together to freshen up.
They went to the upstream section, where the water was relatively deeper.
The stream was clear; one could even see the rounded pebbles at the bottom. The water was shallow, not even reaching their knees, but much better than downstream.
After all, they were outside. Zhao Ger craned his neck, looked left and right, and seeing no one around, wet his towel and wiped himself under his clothes. Fang Zichen imitated him, but being a man, he simply took off his upper garment and finished wiping down in no time. Seeing Guaizai squatting by the stream bank with his own special little towel, meticulously wiping his face for a long time, finally finishing. Noticing his reflection in the water with a few little tufts of hair sticking up, he wet his hand again and smoothed them down one by one.
Fang Zichen didn't know what to say.
It was almost nightfall, and he was still putting on this show—was he trying to look good for ghosts?
He considered himself a meticulous man, but he wasn't this extreme. His son had truly surpassed him. If hair gel existed in this era, he'd have to get his son a whole bottle.
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar