Chapter 42: Father, I just cannot fathom it!

Xie Yanzhi was no fool, but to expose the situation directly would make him look like a fool as well.

Instead, he stomped his foot, pursed his lips, and said indignantly, "Brother Fan, do you not consider me a brother? Or do you look down on this food? It seems you find the leftovers I brought unappealing. If so, I shall go out and pour them into the snow right now."

His outburst stunned both of them. Xie Yanzhi’s fits of temper had always been reserved for those within his own household; in public, he had always been gentle and polite. This display of stubborn petulance caught them both completely off guard.

Xie Yanzhi felt a wave of anxiety. He had only ever seen others throw such tantrums, and having forgotten how to proceed with the act, he could only stand up and pretend to head for the door.

Fortunately, Little Fatty Fan reacted in time, lunging forward to hug Xie Yanzhi’s leg. "Brother Xie, that is not what I meant."

Xie Yanzhi sat back down instantly, as smooth as if he were sliding on ice. "Then you must share this with your mother. Eat it now; I need to take the bowl back with me."

Little Fatty Fan still hesitated. Seeing this, Mother Fan sighed helplessly. "Little Fatty, accept it."

She looked at Xie Yanzhi again. She had assumed he was merely a kind-hearted, down-and-out young master who was bored and sought to play at being brothers with her son, wandering about to forage for food. After letting him see the destitution of their home, she had expected him to look down on Little Fatty and leave him to his loneliness. She never imagined he would bring them food.

The food was sliced with such precision that it clearly wasn't the leftovers he claimed them to be; he had likely run over here the moment his own household finished their evening meal.

"You are Yanzhi, aren't you? What a good child. Sorry to have troubled you to come all this way. Our Little Fatty is mischievous; please bear with him. Little Fatty, go get two eggs for your Brother Xie."

Mother Fan possessed a different kind of beauty than Cheng Zhi; she was more charming, yet when facing the younger generation, she was always as gentle as spring rain.

"Oh, Auntie, no, there's no need!" Xie Yanzhi hurriedly refused, but Little Fatty Fan used all his strength to shove the eggs into Xie Yanzhi’s pocket.

Little Fatty’s face was flushed, his lips pursed, and his gaze was burning with intensity. Xie Yanzhi suddenly fell silent. He realized he had overlooked the most important thing of all.

"Then... then I shall accept them," Xie Yanzhi stammered, a rare blush creeping onto his own face.

Little Fatty Fan finally smiled. He climbed onto the bed, and together with his mother, they shared the meal—a bite for you, a bite for me, each insisting the other take more—until the evening turned to night.

When Little Fatty Fan washed the bowl and handed it back to Xie Yanzhi, he looked at him deeply, as if he had something to say. Xie Yanzhi waited quietly, but Little Fatty only urged him to be careful on his way home before turning back to climb onto the bed and knead his mother’s calves.

"Silly child, Mother cannot feel anything."

"But Doctor Huang said if I keep kneading to stimulate the meridians, they won't deteriorate as quickly. When I grow up and earn money, I will take you to see a physician..."

Xie Yanzhi didn't hear the rest. He closed the door and stood alone in the wind and snow for a long time—so long that he nearly turned into a statue before he finally began his walk home.

The journey back was not long, but to Xie Yanzhi, it felt as though he had walked for a hundred years. The night was dark and the snow deep; he didn't even know how he had made it back. Pushing open the courtyard gate, he expected to be met with darkness, but the main room was still lit, glowing with a warm orange hue.

Under the eaves, Xie Tingjun was pacing back and forth, his steps hurried and anxious. When he heard the sound of the gate, he looked up immediately. A flash of relief crossed his eyes, but then he raised his hand and roared, "Do you even know how to come home? Running away twice in one day—do you think you’re still in the capital?!"

"I’m telling you, you will read these books whether you like it or not! I haven't spent all these years grooming you just for you to rot in this village as a common peasant!"

In the past, Xie Yanzhi would have jumped in protest or bowed his head to feign submission, but this time he kept his head low and said nothing. As he walked toward Xie Tingjun, he swayed slightly. Xie Tingjun’s eyes widened, and upon realizing something, he huffed in anger, "Don't try to play that act on me! It won't work!"

The next second, the sound of a heavy object hitting the floor echoed under the eaves.

Xie Tingjun: "Yanzhi, my son!"

"It’s nothing. Just like that day with Changzhi, he’s just caught a chill. The medicine from that day wasn't finished; here, boil it for him and he’ll be fine."

When Cheng Yuan was roused from her quilt, hearing Xie Tingjun’s shouts, she thought Xie Yanzhi had been severely injured. Upon seeing his flushed face and burning forehead, she decided there was no need to even call Doctor Huang. She tossed the two packets of medicine at him and, after giving her instructions, retreated back to her warm little bed.

When Xie Yanzhi opened his eyes, he was still disoriented. He looked around—hadn't he just returned to the courtyard? How had he ended up in bed?

The bedroom door creaked, and he met the gaze of Xie Tingjun, who was holding a bowl of medicine. The anxiety on Xie Tingjun's face hadn't yet faded. Perhaps because his mind was still clouded, he instinctively called out, "Father."

"I thought you were dead! Drink this medicine at once!" Xie Tingjun placed the bowl heavily on the small table by the bed. Without waiting for a reply, he continued to scold, "Do you have any idea what the weather is like outside? It’s one thing to act out at home, but I only have one son—are you trying to leave me without any descendants?!"

Perhaps he had truly been frightened, as all of Xie Tingjun’s scholarly refinement had vanished into thin air. He waited for a long time, but when Xie Yanzhi didn't respond, he looked down, only to find Xie Yanzhi blinking at him.

His brow furrowed, and he gripped Xie Yanzhi’s shoulder. Muttering to himself, "He hasn't been sick into stupidity, has he? I’m going to ask Miss Cheng Yuan!"

Xie Yanzhi quickly pulled him back. "Father, there is something I cannot understand."

Xie Tingjun let out a sigh of relief; if he could still ask questions, he must be alright. "Drink the medicine, then say whatever you want."

The medicine was incredibly bitter. In the past, Xie Yanzhi would have needed a candied fruit for every sip, but now he gulped it down in one go. Xie Tingjun’s expression turned obscure.

Xie Yanzhi wiped his mouth and forced himself up. "I’ve made a friend over the last two days. He is young and has never been tutored. He spends his days climbing trees and wading in the water. I thought he was just obsessed with play, but then he told me it was because he couldn't even manage to feed himself. I went to his home today. His house is smaller than this dilapidated shack of ours. His mother has poor legs and spends most of her time in bed. I don't know about his father—he is likely dead. The mother and son depend entirely on my friend to survive, and he is only eight years old this year."

Xie Yanzhi fell silent for a moment. Whether from the fever or not, the corners of his eyes turned red.

"I remember when I was eight, I wore a different set of fine silk robes every day, complaining about the delicacies that were served daily. Before the tutor arrived each day, I would climb over the wall to play with my band of friends, squandering one or two taels—sometimes even dozens—without batting an eye."

"Father, I don't understand. Where is the path out for my friend?"