FMT 12

Chapter 12 Lecher

Liandan did not sleep well the whole night.

When he got up in the morning, the person sitting by the window was already gone.

Liandan changed Xiaodan’s dry diaper. Guessing that the child would soon wake, he wiped his face, feeling somewhat tired, got out of bed, put on his shoes, and prepared to go to the yard to milk the goat.

Before leaving, Liandan quietly opened the door of the next room and looked inside. The room was silent. Old Madam Chen was still asleep.

Liandan had heard from his mother that before his grandmother died, she had also slept like this day by day, with few waking hours, eating little, and then, in her sleep, she had passed away silently.

Liandan closed the door gently with worry and let out a long sigh.

He washed his hands, went to the cupboard to find a large bowl, and took a clean cloth, then left the house.

It was early July, and the weather grew hotter each day. Liandan raised his head to look at the sky. The shining sunlight in the early morning darkened his vision. He closed his eyes, lowered his head, untied the rope binding the milking goat, and led it to a shaded spot under the eaves.

After milking, Liandan wiped the goat with the cloth, then carefully carried the large bowl of milk back inside.

When he had finished clearing out the ashes from the stove and the firewood was burning, Liandan realized something was wrong.

Just now, when he went into the yard, there had been no sound from the doghouse. It was too quiet.

Laicai had not come out to scare him as usual.

Liandan put the bowl of milk into the pot to steam, hesitated, then pushed open the outer room door to peek into the yard.

But as soon as he opened the door, he saw a man in a green-plum-colored robe standing outside with his back to him. His long hair hung loose down his back, his figure thin.

Liandan instinctively stepped back.

The man with his back to him heard the sound and slowly turned around.

His eyes were cold and black. When he first looked over, his gaze was indifferent and dark, with a fierceness not fully gone.

But after seeing who it was, his gaze slowly turned into his usual unblinking stare.

Liandan grew nervous, stammering, not knowing what to say. “I… you…”

“The dog is gone.” Chen Shuangning looked at him and suddenly spoke.

Liandan let out an “Ah,” quickly went around the young man toward the doghouse, and sure enough, the dog chain was lying slack on the ground. Laicai was nowhere to be seen.

“How… how could this be?”

This wolfdog had been bought by Old Madam Chen to guard the house and to intimidate troublesome relatives. It had been raised since it was small, and it had never once broken free of its chain and run off.

If Old Madam Chen woke and found Laicai gone, Liandan would be in trouble.

Behind him, the young man’s voice was hoarse and strange, speaking slowly. “Maybe it was hungry and went out to look for food. It will come back soon.”

Liandan felt worried but had no way to deal with it. He looked back at the other, then quickly turned his head again. Though he felt something was wrong, he still answered obediently, “Mm.”

He thought to himself, if it still had not come back by night, he would have to go out and look for it.

Breakfast was sorghum porridge with a few pieces of peeled yam, stewed until very soft.

Liandan carried Xiaodan on his back with a sling, holding the child’s little bottom with one hand, while with the other he took the big ladle, stirred the pot a few times, and served it into a basin.

After that, he went to the inner room to call the others to eat. Just as he reached the doorway, he saw the man in the green-plum robe sitting by the window, his long, pale hands holding a book, his head lowered, absorbed in reading.

Sunlight came through the paper window, faint and slanted across his green-plum robe. It was a quiet and pleasing sight, regardless of appearance.

Liandan was stunned.

Only then did he truly realize what his mother-in-law had said, that the other was a scholar.

“Do you need something?” While Liandan stared blankly at him, Chen Shuangning put down the book and looked over.

Liandan did not dare meet his eyes. He lowered his head and said softly, “It’s… it’s time to eat.”

Chen Shuangning’s voice was hoarse. “I don’t need it.”

Liandan looked up in surprise and saw him pick up a small box from the table, open it, and eat a brown, pill-like thing.

Liandan wanted to speak but hesitated, then turned and left.

After breakfast, Xiaodan was fed full. Taking advantage of the fact it was not too hot yet outside, Liandan carried the chubby baby to the back garden to sun him for a while.

The room he slept in had a small door that led to the back garden. The garden was not big. It had some scallions, cucumbers, loofah, and other common vegetables they ate, and there was also a jujube tree.

The latrine was in the corner of this back garden.

Liandan walked back and forth in the small garden carrying Xiaodan, pointing out the different crops, telling him what each was called and what it tasted like, tirelessly.

The sun grew stronger. Liandan carried Xiaodan to the big jujube tree.

The tree was many years old, with dense branches and leaves.

The jujube tree bloomed early, so it also bore fruit early. The flowers from April and May had already turned into small green jujubes.

Liandan picked one and showed it to Xiaodan. Xiaodan grabbed it in his hand, blinked his eyes, and was about to put it into his mouth. Liandan was startled and quickly stopped him, pried it out of his little hand, and threw it to the ground.

After tossing away that unripe jujube, when Liandan looked back, he suddenly froze, then looked again at the ground.

After staring for a while, he walked toward the roots of the tree in puzzlement. Holding Xiaodan, he squatted down with some effort.

Although it was not obvious, he could still see that the soil there had been freshly turned, different from the rest nearby. As he squatted, he caught a whiff of putrid blood.

Liandan scratched at the dirt with his foot a few times, then gasped, nearly falling back onto the ground.

Inside the loosened soil were clots of dark red, congealed blood, and a length of intestine already starting to rot.

Liandan’s eyes widened. As he forced himself to look more closely despite the fear, he suddenly felt something wrong. He turned his head sharply and saw Chen Shuangning standing quietly at the small door leading into the garden, his eyes unclear as he looked this way.

“The sunlight is too harsh. Go back inside.” Chen Shuangning spoke faintly.

Liandan instinctively let out an “Ah,” and stood up.

Neither of them spoke. After a while, under the other’s gaze, Liandan went past him into the house.

As he passed by the young man, his hand twitched involuntarily and his eyelids fluttered rapidly, though he himself did not realize it.

The door was gently closed behind him. A faint putrid smell of blood came in with the wooden panel, then quickly dispersed.

Chen Shuangning did not follow him inside. He remained in the garden.

Once inside, Liandan absentmindedly gave Xiaodan water. After coaxing him to sleep, he sat at the table, the image from that moment still vivid in his mind.

Just now, aside from the innards and the congealed blood, he had also seen gray-black fur.

Laicai had never left. It had been cut open and killed.

….

That whole day, Liandan did not see Chen Shuangning return to the house. He did not dare go look for him, and he did not dare check.

After Xiaodan finished his nap, the sky grew overcast and the heat lessened. Liandan carried him on his back and went to the fields to tend the crops.

The Chen family’s ten mu of land grew corn, sorghum, soybeans, as well as rapeseed and bok choy.

Liandan took a water pouch for the child and a hoe for himself, prepared everything, and went out.

By then the corn stalks in the field had grown tall. After a few days away, weeds had sprung up again on the ridges.

Liandan bent over, weeding with the hoe. Xiaodan was heavy. After working a while, his waist ached unbearably, so he straightened up to rest.

When the weeding was nearly done, outside the cornfield came the sound of several young men laughing, stalks snapping, and someone asking, “Is it sweet? Break another one.”

Liandan understood at once, panicked, and gripped the hoe in his hand, running that way while shouting, “No… you can’t break them…”

He was already near the edge of the cornfield. A few steps more and he rushed out, seeing several men in their twenties breaking the green corn stalks one by one.

Liandan stamped his feet in anxiety. “This is my family’s. You can’t break them.”

They already had two or three stalks in hand, stripped of husks, and were chewing them.

The immature corn stalks were somewhat like sweet canes. Chewing them gave a lot of juice and a faint sweetness.

But hardly anyone would do this. In autumn, a single stalk could yield several ears of corn. No family would waste them as a snack.

The man in front gave a “Heh,” looked Liandan up and down, and grinned. “This ger looks fair-skinned. Is he promised to someone yet? If not, I’ll have him marry me!”

The other two men laughed wickedly.

Liandan’s face flushed red with anger, but he was clumsy with words, he didn’t know how to refute, and did not dare to.

When the men saw tears welling in his eyes and his cheeks red, they laughed even harder.

The man in front laughed for a while, then stopped. His eyes stayed on Liandan’s face for quite some time. He grew a little more serious and said, “Which family are you from? How come I’ve never seen you? Have you been betrothed?”

As he spoke, he actually reached out to grab Liandan’s thin wrist. Liandan hurriedly dodged, but the man pressed forward, ignoring the ger’s fear and resistance, insisting on seizing his wrist.

Liandan was nearly crying from fright. As he backed away, his foot slipped on the ridge, his body tilted, and he was about to fall.

The man saw this, a look of urgency crossing his face. His outstretched hand turned toward Liandan’s waist.

At that moment, a pale, slender hand appeared soundlessly and first held Liandan’s side.

Liandan was startled, but as soon as a familiar, indescribable scent brushed his nose, he quickly realized who it was and showed joy.

The man who had been reaching out froze and looked up. He saw a pale-faced, scholarly man standing behind this ger, staring at him with cold, black, eerie eyes.

For some reason, meeting those eyes made the man’s heart tighten. He could not help but retreat two steps.

That man kept his gaze fixed on him. His thin lips moved, and his voice was low, hoarse, strange, threatening, as he slowly said, “Get away. He belongs to someone.”