Today, we were supposed to play cards and kick things off with a lucky start, but you two old buzzkills had to gang up and mock me. Forget it! If I, Liu Dashao, can’t take you on, I can at least avoid you.
With that thought, Liu Dashao decided he’d had enough of playing with those two rotten old men. Slippers slapping, he hummed the tune he’d just heard from the loudspeaker and strolled toward the village entrance. There, things were far from quiet. Old Zhang’s wife, her daughter Lingzi, and the girl Liu Dashao secretly fancied, Lixiaoyan from the Li household, were gathered in a tight circle, whispering intensely about something mysterious.
Wait a minute—didn’t the Kuomintang all flee to Taiwan already? What were these women up to, whispering like spies? Could they be secret agents sent by Chiang Kai-shek to steal military intelligence? The absurd thought flashed through Liu Dashao’s mind, but he quickly dismissed it. What intelligence could there possibly be in a village like this? So what were they talking about? Curiosity piqued, Liu Dashao tiptoed closer, stretching his ears to catch every word.
Oh! It turned out they were gossiping about some household where a woman had given birth to seven children in one pregnancy…
Cold sweat dripped from Liu Dashao’s temples. Three women really could stir up a show, and four were like a week-long shadow play. Seven kids in one pregnancy? That was pure nonsense—more like a sow giving birth!
So Liu Dashao casually strolled over, pretending to be related, and leaned toward Lixiaoyan. “Wow! Now that’s what I call fertile! You could be on TV for that!”
Old Zhang’s wife gave Liu Dashao a sharp, venomous glare, like a snake striking, as she saw him cozying up to Xiaoyan. “Big deal! Seven? That’s nothing! Want to know how many were born the year before last? Eight!”
Now Liu Dashao understood—they were talking about Old Zhang’s ever-horny sow that kept getting pregnant every year. Man, these women must be really bored to bring a sow into their girl-talk topics. Normally, Liu Dashao would never greet Old Zhang’s wife—she talked too much. Once, she met a chatty old lady on the way to buy cabbages and started chatting. The conversation was epic—sunrise to sunset! Her family thought she was lost and went looking for her, only to find her still yakking away, basket empty. But today was different—there was his beloved girl beside him. With just ten minutes to noon, this was prime time to deepen emotional bonds. Liu Dashao scooted a little closer to Xiaoyan and joined their casual chatter.
Now, Lixiaoyan was truly a beauty in the village—her face was fair and clean, her eyes bright and clear. When she smiled, her lips curved like a gentle crescent moon; when she spoke, her voice was like a nightingale’s song. She was around the same age as Liu Dashao, about eleven or twelve, but as his eyes traced her slim curves upward, his expert gaze (he’d picked up a few tricks) instantly concluded—this girl had started developing. Her chest wasn’t full yet, but it was definitely on the rise.
As the saying goes, “Stay near vermilion, and you’ll turn red; stay near ink, and you’ll turn black.” Liu Dashao used to be innocent and well-behaved. (Barf…) But ever since he met his three troublemaker friends—Dunzi, Mazi, and Tianguo—he’d been influenced by their bad habits. (They protested: “He’s self-taught! We’re innocent!”)
To be fair, one thing was true—Liu Dashao used to only look at women’s eyes, too shy to glance at their chests.
But after starting school, Dunzi kept whispering in his ear: “Nice guys finish last. Don’t they say, ‘It’s good to be up close with women?’ How can you know if they’re good if you don’t take a look?”
Slowly, Liu Dashao changed. He began to look at the “scenery” around him with a new, appreciative gaze.
With his crush right beside him, Liu Dashao couldn’t help but spew flattery like a waterfall, desperate to impress her.
“Hey, Xiaoyan, you’re getting prettier every day! Not long ago, you were still picking your nose, and now look at you—like a movie star! Even celestial maidens aren’t as pretty as you. I should bring some gifts to your mom and ask her to marry you off to me!”
Girls are shy. Though Xiaoyan felt a flicker of secret hope, she blushed and pinched Liu Dashao’s thigh, acting coy—her movements perfectly mirroring Li Qingzhao’s verse: “She leans by the door, glancing back, pretending to smell a green plum.”
“Go on! Who’d marry you!”
“Haha…” Liu Dashao, worldly-wise, knew this meant progress.
“Hmph! Just as I thought—rich brat, always dreaming of swans!” Whether out of genuine concern for Xiaoyan or just jealousy because she herself couldn’t find a suitor while others flocked around her friend, Zhangling, who had been sulking silently beside them, finally snapped with a bitter jab.
“Don’t even look in the mirror! You think you deserve our Xiaoyan? You’re only good enough to pair up with Old Ma’s sow!”
That was harsh—no mercy at all. Zhang’s wife and Lixiaoyan burst into laughter, clutching their bellies.
Damn it! Should I go see a fortune teller later? First those two old fogeys humiliated me, and now even an old maid rejected by even Pigsy dares to challenge me! Liu Dashao muttered under his breath. But he wasn’t one to back down. His eyes darted, and a trick popped into his mind. He loudly teased, “Hey, Lingzi! Why are you picking on me today? Could it be you’ve got a crush on me? Trying to get my attention?”
“Die! Die! You’re so shameless! I’m still a virgin, you know! So embarrassing!” Lingzi shrieked, then, mimicking Xiaoyan’s earlier gesture, pinched Liu Dashao’s thigh again. But the difference between them was like heaven and hell. The young lovers’ pinch was playful affection; this was pure spite. Watching her cover her pockmarked face and pretend to be shy, Liu Dashao felt like his soul had shriveled. Not just testicular pain—his balls had shattered! It was like a horny hippopotamus wearing sexy lingerie, blushing and whispering, “My lord, I desire you.” Liu Dashao felt an overwhelming urge to vomit everything he’d eaten in the past three days for two miles straight.
“Alright, alright! I give up!” Liu Dashao pulled a sour face and waved his hands. This kind of affection was more than he could handle—it might even be fatal…
“He’s always like this. It’d be strange if he didn’t act up. But the boy does have his ways. He’s got experience. My husband was just saying yesterday how he thanked you for treating his injury!” Ma’s wife tugged Lingzi’s hand, unfazed by the scene, though her face showed some gratitude. In the countryside, men were the pillars of the home. When Ma’s husband had a back injury and couldn’t work, the family nearly collapsed. Naturally, she was grateful to Liu Dashao for helping him recover.
“No problem, no problem! We’re neighbors, what’s there to be polite about? Auntie, how’s Uncle Ma’s back now? Should I check it again?” Liu Dashao smiled, though in his mind he thought: Please say no! I’ve got a poker game to get to!
“Oh, no need, no need. He’s almost fully recovered,” Ma’s wife quickly replied.
“That’s good. You should also remind Uncle Ma not to take shortcuts—carrying firewood should be limited to four bundles at most. Even an iron-built body would collapse under eight bundles at once,” said Young Master Liu with the demeanor of a seasoned physician. As for where his medical skills came from, it was a legacy passed down through a single line. His great-grandfather and grandfather were both well-known barefoot doctors in the area, versed in many folk remedies. However, his father had no interest in this tradition, arguing that being a doctor couldn’t reliably support a family, so he abandoned the practice. Fortunately, those medicinal formulas remained untouched at home. In his childhood, Young Master Liu spent his free time flipping through them like picture books, and over time, he picked up a thing or two. Treating acute lumbar sprains was especially straightforward—just apply plum-blossom needling to the affected area, followed by cupping with fire to draw out the stagnant blood. A few days of rest would ensure full recovery, which was why Young Master Liu felt particularly confident about it.
“Got it. It’s almost noon. Lingzi and I’ll head back first. You two can chat a bit more,” Ma’s wife smiled, then gave Liu Dashao a meaningful, teasing look, as if saying: “Go get her, tiger!”
“Perfect! You really understand me, Auntie! You’re like the worm in my gut!” Liu Dashao grinned.
But Xiaoyan pouted: “Hmph! Who wants to chat with him? I’m not even going to bother. He’s always teasing me and trying to touch me!”
“Hey! Who teases you? Didn’t I give your little brother a candy the other day?” Liu Dashao proudly recalled.
“What day?” Xiaoyan frowned, then suddenly glared: “Wait! My brother had a stomachache the other day—was it from eating your candy?”
“Impossible?” Liu Dashao rubbed his smooth chin: “I found it by the stinky ditch, but I remember wiping it clean!”
“What?!” Protective of her brother, Xiaoyan finally snapped. A girl like her usually kept her temper in check, but when she did lose it, she was worse than a ghost. Liu Dashao, realizing his mistake, immediately made a run for it.
“Don’t run!”
“Liu Dashao, stop right there! Stop!” Xiaoyan took off her cloth shoe and hurled it fiercely at his back.
“Ahhh!” A short scream echoed from afar, but Liu Dashao only ran faster after the hit. Within seconds, he vanished from sight.
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