[070] Guarding Against the Emperor’s Rebellion

“Damn it! Other men are bossed around by their wives, but I’m bossed around by my son all day long!”

In the vast farmlands, stretching as far as the eye could see, on a narrow country cement road, Fang Lujun carried Fang Changming, pedaling his bicycle and sighing incessantly.

“He’s been nagging me since last night—nagging and nagging. I’ve never seen a son like you... Is there any son like this? Changming, don’t you think so?”

Fang Changming hugged his father’s waist and nodded vigorously, “Mm! Mm!”

Cong Rong carried Fang Yanran right behind them, unable to suppress her laughter. Fang Yanran was hugging her mother’s waist, giggling as well. She turned to glance at her elder brother and whispered, “Big Brother, Dad is still scolding you!”

“Watch your mouth,” Fang Changan scolded with a stern face. “A father scolding his son—how is that called scolding? That’s called discipline, teaching, for my own good. Just like when I scold you and Changming, it’s all for your benefit, understand?”

As they rode on, the words from the front were hard to hear at the back, but those from behind easily reached the front. Fang Lujun glanced back with a glare and snapped, “For your own good? If I’d known I’d raise a son like you, I would have given you away when you were little!”

Fang Changan chuckled, “It’s not too late now—unless you can’t bear to.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Get lost right now and save me from your constant nagging! Ugh!”

Fang Lujun resumed sighing. “Tell me, what have you learned at school? No matter how good your grades are, what’s the use? Sons should listen to their fathers, not the other way around!”

Cong Rong said, “Whoever’s right, that’s who you should listen to. If your son’s right, you should listen to him.”

“Me? Why should I listen?”

“I’m telling you, once I drop you all off, I’m heading home by myself—”

Before his mother could reply, Fang Changan quickly cut in, “Dad, I’ll go back with you.”

“And what would you do with me?”

“Learn to play cards, of course! My dorm mates play cards too. I always watch but can’t play. Looks fun—you can teach me...”

He shot his mother a look, wary of her scolding, and added, “And smoking—Dad, you can teach me that too, right? I want to try it. The guys at school smoke, looks so cool...”

Fang Lujun was silent for a moment before saying, “Study hard. There’s nothing good about it—why learn those things?”

“I’m learning from you,” Fang Changan replied righteously. “Grandpa smokes, drinks, and plays cards; you smoke, drink, and play cards; Uncle smokes, drinks, and plays cards; even Eldest Uncle, though he doesn’t smoke, drinks occasionally and loves cards too—he just has no one to play with in town, and every time he comes back to the village, he stays until it’s dark because he can’t bear to leave the card table. Only Changqing doesn’t smoke, drink, or play cards, and Danran’s a girl, she doesn’t touch any of it. Changming and Yanran are still young, Changxu even younger, so the glorious task of upholding our Fang family tradition falls to me!”

His tone was impassioned, as if undertaking a grand historic mission. “I can’t let our family’s ancient traditions die with me! I must learn!”

Fang Lujun nearly choked, but could tell his son was being sarcastic, which put his mind at ease. He knew well his own faults and pinned all his hopes on his children’s success. If Fang Changan really followed his path, life would truly be hopeless.

“You’ll be the death of me one day! The death of me!” Fang Lujun, cornered by his son’s words, could only repeat himself to stress his authority as a father. “If you drive me to my grave, I hope you’re happy.”

“How could I be? The three of us still need you to work and support us. Who will pay our tuition otherwise?”

Fang Changan pedaled faster to ride alongside his father, turning to smile ingratiatingly. “Dad, when are you going to find a job?”

“Find a job, my ass! I’ll beat you first!”

Fang Lujun was truly enraged. He hadn’t had a moment’s peace since last night. He tried to cycle closer to give his unfilial son a slap, but Fang Changan quickly sped off on his bike.

The family only had two bicycles. The one he rode was borrowed from Fang Dianqiu’s house—a new, lightweight model. Since he didn’t have to carry anyone, it was an easy ride, and he soon disappeared to the other side of the road.

Cong Rong, suppressing a smile, said, “Enough, enough, we’re still on the road, don’t make a scene.”

“Ah!” Fang Lujun sighed again. “How did I end up with a son like this? Really, tell me, has there ever been a son like this since ancient times?”

Grandmother’s house was in Congtun, about ten kilometers from Majia Ditch. Riding slowly, the family took nearly an hour to arrive. The door was shut. The neighbors said everyone was out in the fields, so they went to look for them.

Both elders, nearly sixty, were still robust and hard-working, busy spraying the pear orchard. They were delighted to see their daughter’s family arrive.

Fang Lujun and Cong Rong helped in the fields—though to be honest, Cong Rong wasn’t much help; she was just making up the numbers. Fang Lujun was truly useful.

As for Fang Changan and the other three, they ran wild through the orchard, calling out “Grandpa!” and “Grandma!” as they played.

At lunch, Cong Rong told her parents that Fang Lujun might go out to work. The couple, long exasperated by their idle son-in-law, quickly agreed, but were also worried their daughter couldn’t manage alone. They insisted she call if she ever needed help.

At the table, father- and son-in-law drank together. Fang Lujun, having a reason to indulge, complained about his rebellious son. Fang Changan reminded him, “Dad, don’t drink too much—you still have business to handle later. You have to ask Uncle Li Chang for his address, or you won’t know where to find him.”

“Enough, enough, don’t talk, don’t talk,” Fang Lujun hurried to interrupt, wary of more trouble. “I’m scared every time you speak—let me eat in peace.”

“Alright, I’ll say no more.”

Fang Changan picked up his grandfather’s wine cup. “I won’t say anything—let’s just drink! Here, Dad, a toast to you!”

“Hey, hey, hey!”

As Fang Changan made to down the cup, everyone—grandpa, grandma, and mother—cried out at once. Grandma quickly snatched the cup away, scolding, “Isn’t it enough to have a family of drunkards? Do you want to add another?”

“I’m only following Dad’s example,” Fang Changan muttered, all aggrieved.

Fang Lujun genuinely wanted to get his son drunk, but after all this, he felt a pang of guilt. Fearing he was setting a bad example, he didn’t dare drink as much as he’d wanted.

“Changan, come here.”

After lunch, Fang Changan helped his grandmother and mother clear the dishes. When he carried them to the kitchen, his mother was still tidying up in the main room. Suddenly, his grandmother called him softly.

The nearly sixty-year-old woman took out a rolled-up clear plastic bag from her pocket, unwrapping layer after layer until a few paper bills and coins appeared.

Her rough hands unfolded the bills—a twenty, a ten, and a five. She moistened her fingers, pulled out the five, hesitated, then tucked it back, returning it to the bag. Finally, she handed him the ten, her clouded eyes gentle and warm as she whispered, “Take this. Make sure you eat well at school—don’t let yourself go hungry.”

Fang Changan could hardly hold back his tears. He nodded hard, took the wrinkled ten and tucked it into his pocket. “Don’t worry, Grandma. The school canteen is cheap, I can eat my fill.”

“Sigh, how good can food at the school canteen be?” the old woman sighed, carefully putting the bag away. “It’s too late today, but next time come earlier—Grandma will make you meatballs and flatbread to take to school.”

“Alright, I’ll come next weekend.”

He nodded, then stressed again, “Really, our canteen is cheap—fifty cents is enough for a full meal. My classmates eat for just thirty cents a meal. The school and town check up, the canteen boss doesn’t dare overcharge.”

In his previous life, Fang Changan often came to his grandmother’s on weekends for food and used to complain about the canteen’s food being bad and expensive. Now, he couldn’t praise the canteen boss highly enough.

He went to the bathroom, returned, and sat on the only bed in the house, watching his grandfather talk to his father. Quietly, he slipped two bills under the pillow—a ten and a five, both crisp and new—knowing the elders would never suspect him of returning the money.

On the way back, the family stopped in Lizhuang to visit Uncle Li Chang’s house. After some small talk, Fang Lujun, half unwilling and half awkward with unfamiliarity, said little; Cong Rong explained their purpose. Their host was surprised but agreed without hesitation.

Before leaving, Fang Changan reminded his parents to note the family’s phone number and left behind the number for Fang Changfeng’s house.

Back home, Fang Lujun barely sat down before sneaking out again. Fang Changan saw, but said nothing. After all, he was just the Crown Prince—better to be wary lest the Emperor be driven to rebellion.

Fang Changming, once home, gathered the children to play hide-and-seek. Fang Changan thought it over and decided to join them. It turned out to be quite fun, so he played until dusk, when his mother called them in. After all, it was good exercise, running around like that.

Fang Lujun didn’t return until after eight, reeking of alcohol. Fang Changan, knowing his father had been sulking since the night before and was bound to pick on him, behaved extra dutifully. As soon as his father came in, he didn’t stop fawning.

He poured hot water, added sugar, and handed it over. “Dad, have some tea!”

He massaged his father’s shoulders. “Dad, you’ve been playing cards for hours—you must be tired.”

He asked cheerfully, “Did you win tonight?”

“I knew you’d win! With your brains and skill, unless you had terrible luck, how could you lose?”

Fang Lujun, always fond of flattery, and already tipsy, soon forgot about punishing his son. He proudly recounted his card-playing exploits, boasting of how much he’d won.

In the end, he stuffed over a hundred yuan into Fang Changan’s hands—refusing was not an option.

“If you dare say no, I’ll beat you! Damn brat, never seen a son like this...”

Fang Changan took the money and handed it straight to his mother, laughing, “Mom, do you think Dad will remember tonight after he wakes up tomorrow?”

“With a belly full of cat’s piss, what could he remember?” Cong Rong was amazed by her son’s change, but also relieved. Fang Lujun often made a scene when drunk, but tonight had been the calmest yet.

Fang Changan pointed at his father, snoring on the bed, and said, “See, Mom? Next time Dad gets drunk, just treat him like a child—no need to argue. If you’re angry, trick him: pour him some vinegar, or make him write a pledge or confession or an IOU.”

Cong Rong couldn’t help laughing, “He’s drunk, not stupid. You think he’ll do whatever you say? You’re his son; he’d give you money, but not necessarily me.”

“It’s all the same—it ends up with you anyway.”

Whenever Fang Lujun drank, he always got up early to cook the next day, doing his best as a gesture of repentance. This time was no different.

The next morning, Fang Changan woke early as usual. His father was already up, tending the fire and cooking. Seeing his son up so soon surprised him, and he spoke kindly, “Changan, up so early? Wash your face and brush your teeth—breakfast will be ready soon.”

Fang Changan smiled, “I’m going out for a walk.”

He wandered a bit before coming home and overheard his father gently coaxing his mother out of bed, apologizing and fawning over her. At the end, he asked softly, “Hey, when I came back last night, did you touch my clothes? Where did my hundred yuan go?”

Cong Rong replied irritably, “Why would I touch your clothes? You probably lost it somewhere.”

“Impossible. I put it in my pants pocket... it was still there when I got home...”

When Fang Changan returned from washing up, Fang Lujun had already roused Changming and Yanran, and was still asking, “When Dad came home last night, did you see Mom going through my pants?”

The two immediately realized what he was after. They glanced at their big brother, and Changming shook his head, “I didn’t see anything.”

“Mm-hmm!” Eight-year-old Yanran nodded like a pecking chick, showing she agreed with her brother.