The Fearless Husband - Chapter 7

Chapter 7 — This Is a Baby Eagle and a Wounded…

Fang Dingman never in his life expected his son to ask such a question. His mouth hung open wide enough to swallow an egg whole.

“What—what did you just say, Shu’er? Who was seen relieving himself by a ge’er?”

“There was… such a person,” Fang Shu said carefully, “but I’m not sure how this situation should be handled, so I wanted to ask your opinion, Father.”

“Is that so?” Fang Dingman eyed him suspiciously. “And this has nothing to do with you?”

“Well… it might have a little to do with me. I happened to witness it and was asked to judge who was in the wrong. What would you say in that case?”

“Well, that depends,” Fang Dingman said, stroking his beard sagely. “Was that ge’er peeking on purpose, or was it an accident? And does the man mind or not? After all, it’s the man who was seen—if he’s broad-minded, then it’s no big deal. As for the ge’er, if it was just bad luck that he stumbled upon it, it’s not really his fault either. I mean, who told that man to relieve himself somewhere he could be seen? He’s got some responsibility too. So really, it depends on what the two of them say.”

“What if the ge’er says to just pretend it never happened?”

“Then you pretend it never happened. If he says that, he’s clearly trying to let the matter drop. Either that ge’er is a righteous and decent person who doesn’t want to take advantage and trap that man into responsibility… or the man in question isn’t much to look at, and the ge’er wasn’t the least bit interested.”

“…???”

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“N-no, Father. You’re as wise as ever.”

Fang Shu thought, It definitely isn’t because I’m not much to look at. He was certain Yu Qinglong was just an upright and honorable person, too honest to take advantage of him.

Yes, that had to be it. A man who’d helped him without seeking reward, who hadn’t taken advantage when he easily could have—he must be a good and principled person. As for the whole “seeing him relieve himself” thing, that was just an accident! He really shouldn’t dwell on it.

Instead of thinking about that, he should focus on how to recover quickly. The idea of being stuck at home for half a month—unable to go out and collect beautiful stones, plants, and pieces of wood—was unbearable.

Holding a steamed bun, Fang Shu looked at his mother. “Mother, could you bring me the stones I picked up the other day? I can polish a few and make a little rock display for the flowerpots.”

“Absolutely not!” Madam Fang snapped before he could finish. “Don’t even think about it! You’d better forget that nonsense right now. A back injury isn’t like other injuries—if you don’t rest properly, I’ll never get to hold my grandchild in this lifetime! Doctor Mo said half a month of rest, so you’ll rest a full month!”

“What?! A month?!”

“Yes! A month! A hundred days for bones and tendons to heal properly. A month is already lenient!”

She regretted letting him go to the doctor alone, but now that he’d gotten medicine and advice, she’d make sure he followed it. Touch stones again? Over her dead body!

Fang Shu sat on the heated kang, finishing his bun, feeling like the sky was collapsing on him.

Then his mother brought over two books, setting them beside him. “You have all that time to fiddle with useless junk, you might as well study! You’ve got a fine brain—why waste it? This is Heaven punishing you for being distracted! Maybe now you’ll learn your lesson and stop wasting time on those rocks and sticks. Tell me, which scholar ever became top of the examination list by playing around? Use your time properly!”

Fang Shu frowned at the two books. “Please take them away, Mother. I’ve already finished those.”

She blinked. “Didn’t we just get those recently?”

“I did,” he said listlessly. “But I’ve already studied them.”

“Then which ones haven’t you read? Tell me the title and I’ll have your father find them.”

“No need to bother Father. You can just get it yourself—it’s on my bookshelf. The one with the dried leaf of a hawk pasted on the cover.”

So he’s started making leaf art now?

Well, that was fine too, she thought. At least she could recognize a hawk.

But when she got to his bookshelf, she stared for a long time without finding any “hawk.”

She called her husband for help.

He came over and saw six or seven books with pressed-leaf shapes pasted on their covers—but he couldn’t tell what any of them were supposed to be.

“Forget it,” he said, giving up. “Just take them all and let him pick.”

“No, if I bring too many, he won’t want to study any. Maybe this one? It looks kind of right.”

“Fine, go ask him.”

Madam Fang took the one she thought most likely.

Fang Shu looked at it and sighed, feeling deeply wounded. “Mother, that’s a butterfly.”

“How is it a butterfly? It’s got two wings, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a butterfly because it’s injured,” he said earnestly.

She: “……”

If she ever died early, it would surely be from being driven mad by this son.

Grabbing all the books, she marched back and let him pick one himself. He finally chose one. “This one—this is the eagle.”

“What eagle? These two round things look more like chicks to me.”

Fang Shu sighed mournfully. “Not chicks, Mother. Eaglets.”

Truly, no one in this world understood him. Tragic, truly tragic!

He opened the book, eyes on the words but mind far away—thinking of that day by the river, searching for the perfect stones. That was happiness. What was the point of living if one couldn’t follow one’s heart?

In that, he rather understood Yu Qinglong. When a person had no dream or purpose, it was all too easy to forget who they were.

At that moment, Yu Qinglong was crouched on the ground, scribbling symbols only he could understand.

Using pinyin, he wrote down the herbal knowledge Mo Xiaoning had taught him, shaping the letters in cursive English script. To others, it just looked like meaningless scratches made with a twig—but he knew exactly what each stroke meant.

He knew the marks would soon be trampled out, but with no paper to use, this was his best way to memorize.

Zhou Jian’er asked, “Long Ge’er, are you going to Mo family’s house again tomorrow?”

“Mm,” Yu Qinglong nodded. “Big Sister Mo knows a lot about medicine. If Doctor Mo won’t take me, I’ll learn from her first. Whatever I can pick up is worth it. Even if he never accepts me, it won’t be a waste. Sister-in-law, do you have any chores left? I’ll help.”

She smiled. “Then help me plant the radishes in the back garden.”

“Sure.”

He didn’t dare help with kitchen work—partly because he feared wasting ingredients, partly because of the trauma left behind by the original body’s memories of being beaten and scolded by the old matriarch, often in the kitchen.

But he remembered perfectly how to tend the vegetable plot.

Taking a small hoe, he dug little pits, dropped two or three seeds into each, and covered them carefully. There were four rows in all. Then he fetched a bucket of water, filled a ladle, and watered each patch thoroughly.

He worked quietly, saying nothing the whole time.

Zhou Jian’er later went inside and told Zhou Yuehua, who was doing needlework, “Father, I think our little brother hasn’t changed much. He still doesn’t talk much. Just now, when he planted the radishes, he didn’t make a sound.”

Zhou Yuehua said, “Then maybe that day he was just upset about the Wang family business. I still feel he’s different somehow. You don’t think so?”

“Well,” Zhou Jian’er mused, “he has changed a little. He used to eat in total silence—his brother says it’s because he was so used to being scolded by Grandmother. But these days, when he eats, you can actually hear him chewing. Like he’s stopped caring about manners. I’d say that’s a good thing, though. We’re not a fancy noble family—no need for all those rules. Eating’s meant to fill your stomach, not impress the neighbors.”

Zhou Yuehua set aside his sewing and smiled. “You’re right. Maybe I’m overthinking it. It’s good he’s finally letting go. Though if he keeps going to the Mo family every day, you’ll have more chores on your hands.”

Zhou Jian’er laughed. “True, but I actually hope he learns something useful there. He said he learned three new characters today! If he keeps going, maybe one day he can even teach my child. And if he really does master medicine, we’ll never need to pay a doctor again—that’d be a blessing.”

“You’re the clever one,” Zhou Yuehua chuckled, patting her hand. Just then, angry voices rang from outside.

“Mother, please! I’ll only stay a moment. I just need to talk to Long Ge’er for a bit—I swear I’ll come right back!”

“No! You’re coming home with me right now! What would people think if they saw?!” Madam Bai scolded sharply. “Don’t think I don’t know—you’re just trying to ask about Qingye!”

“I’m not, I—”

“Qiu’er, you’re here!” Yu Qinglong called out.

He’d been in the yard cleaning the dirt from his hoe when he noticed the commotion at the gate.

Setting the tool down, he strode over. “Auntie Bai, Qiu Ge’er came all this way—why not let him in?”

He’d heard the rumors that Bai Wanqiu had agreed to let his parents handle his marriage, but now it was clear that wasn’t true.

Taking the chance, Bai Wanqiu broke free of his mother’s grip and stood at the gate. “Mother, I’ll just say a few words and then I’ll go. Please, go home first.”

Madam Bai’s face darkened. “Say what? It’s no use! Your father said if you step into that house again, he won’t acknowledge you as his son!”

Wanqiu’s eyes were already red. Tears spilled down his cheeks, but he neither argued nor left—caught between fear and longing.

Yu Qinglong said calmly, “Auntie, there’s no need to be so angry. Even if Qiu Ge’er can’t enter my family by marriage, can’t he still visit me as a friend?”

Madam Bai blinked, startled. The Long Ge’er she remembered always kept his head down, timid and quiet—but now he spoke clearly, his gaze steady and fearless.

She frowned. “Visit you? Is that really what he’s here for?”

Wanqiu stayed silent.

Yu Qinglong smiled faintly. “Why not? My second brother’s gone to town to apprentice. If Qiu Ge’er doesn’t visit me, who else would he visit?”

“He’s gone to town?”

“Left early this morning.”

“Mother, please,” Wanqiu begged softly, looking like a forlorn kitten. “Let me talk to Long Ge’er for a bit. Just a bit.”

Madam Bai hesitated, then grumbled, “Fine—but only for a little while!”

Yu Qinglong immediately took Wanqiu’s hand and pulled him inside. “Come on, I’ll show you the radishes I just planted.”

Wanqiu nodded, wiping at his tears.

In the back garden, Yu Qinglong asked quietly, “So, what do you want me to tell my brother?”

Wanqiu sniffled. “Tell Qingye not to abandon me. I don’t want to marry anyone else.”

Then, bursting into tears again, he added, “He came to see me this morning, but my father wouldn’t let me go out—he even covered my mouth so I couldn’t speak. I’m scared he’s angry now and won’t ever talk to me again…”

“Don’t cry,” Yu Qinglong soothed. “When my brother gets back, I’ll tell him. Has your family arranged another marriage?”

“No…”

“Then don’t worry. You know how things are for us. If you marry in, life won’t be easy at first—your parents are probably just worried you’ll suffer.”

“But if I can’t be with Qingye, I don’t even want to live anymore,” Wanqiu sobbed.

“…Ah, you little lovestruck fool,” Yu Qinglong thought, amused despite himself. “All right, I’ll tell him exactly that. Don’t worry—if you don’t change, I doubt he will either.”

Though he didn’t know Qingye well, he could tell his brother was a steady, responsible man.

Wanqiu finally managed a watery smile—but it quickly vanished again. “Long Ge’er, I heard you fainted yesterday. Are you feeling better?”

“I’m fine,” Yu Qinglong said casually. “The old matriarch just made me too angry.”

That word—“old matriarch”—made Wanqiu freeze. “You—you shouldn’t say that. If she hears, she’ll scold you again. Be careful not to give her an excuse.”

Yu Qinglong snorted. “Why should I be afraid of her? I don’t eat her food or spend her money.”

That… was bold.

Wanqiu finally realized that the rumors were true—Long Ge’er really had changed. He didn’t think it was a bad thing, though. At least now, he’d suffer less. Still, it startled him to see such fire where there had once been fear.

He hesitated, words on the tip of his tongue.

“What is it?” Yu Qinglong asked.

“I—I ran into Hu Bo by the river this morning, while I was washing clothes. He said… that Old Lady Yu is arranging a marriage for you. The man is… is…”

“Is what?”

“He’s a widower with two children. Hu Bo said he drinks and beats people. The old lady wants you to be his second wife.”