Chapter 129: They Actually Want Him to Patch It Up Personally!

Early in the morning, Yu'an lay in a warm, toasty nest of blankets, his little belly rising and falling with each breath, sleeping soundly with soft snores.

His rosy little mouth suckled in and out, smacking every now and then—clearly dreaming of delicious food.

Suddenly, a loud "Bang!" rang out from the quiet courtyard.

Small Dumpling's body jolted with a start, and he was wide awake in an instant.

Yu'an scrambled up in one go, his big eyes wide with alarm, looking around anxiously.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?"

At that moment, his aunt's clear, bright laughter rang out from the courtyard.

"Hahaha!"

"It worked! I made it!"

What on earth did she make, to get his usually gentle and steady Second Aunt this worked up?

Thinking this, a certain Small Dumpling pressed his chubby little cheeks against the glass window; the cold touch made the little fellow shiver.

Cheng Qiuruo was shouting excitedly in the courtyard, babbling "It worked, it worked!" over and over.

Just as she was thrilled, she was suddenly swatted by Wang Shi, who had rushed out from Chu Fang.

"What kind of nonsense are you up to this early in the morning? What if you scare your Grandmother and Yu'an?"

"Oh."

Cheng Qiuruo glanced toward Grandmother and Yu'an's room and sheepishly lowered her head.

"I'm just too happy, that's all."

Saying so, she pulled her mother aside and whispered.

"Look at this—let me tell you, this weapon is amazing…"

Inside the room, Yu'an stuck his little bottom up and watched for a long while, but couldn't see clearly no matter what.

So the little fellow changed position, tilted his head and pressed his ear against it, his chubby cheeks squished against the glass, his little mouth puckered up like a goldfish's, making his words muffled and unclear.

"What did you make, Auntie?"

Soft, fair, baby-fat-filled little cheeks pressed against the glass, looking like a flattened white steamed bun.

The moment Tian Qin came in and saw this, she couldn't help but laugh and shake her head.

"Come down, it's so cold! Be careful your little nose gets squished flat—it won't look pretty if it's all squished."

Nose squished flat?

That won't do!

Yu'an bounced up in alarm and quickly reached up to feel his little nose.

Soon, the little fellow nodded in satisfaction.

Mm, still as pert and perky as ever!

Tian Qin picked up the clothes nearby and beckoned to the little fellow.

"Come on, let's get dressed and have breakfast—today there's fried little meatballs, your favorite."

Fried little meatballs?

Yu'an gulped loudly.

Mother's fried little meatballs are the best—chopped greens, chopped carrots, a little flour, a tiny bit of minced meat, one egg beaten in and stirred together, then dropped into hot oil and fried slowly over low heat.

Fragrant all around, and the crispy-outside, tender-inside fried little meatballs are done!

One bite each, especially delicious!

Yu'an grinned, threw himself into his mother's arms, nuzzling his little head against her, drawing out his soft baby voice in a clingy coo.

"Mother~"

"Yu'an wants fried little meatballs!"

Tian Qin gently rubbed the little fellow's head, trying to press down the few tufts of cowlicks sticking up.

But the strands of hair that had been wild all night long each insisted on having their own way—pressed down and they'd stick up again, pressed down once more and they'd stick up even more fiercely.

They even spread out, sticking up in different directions.

Looking at the little dumpling with a head full of messy hair, as if he were wearing a bird's nest, Tian Qin barely held back her laughter.

"Alright, let's get you dressed quickly, but before that, Mother has to comb your hair properly."

She refused to believe she couldn't tame it!

Dressed and with her hair in a bun, the little fellow bounced out of the room.

Cheng Qiuruo beckoned to him.

"Yu'an, come quick, Auntie will show you something amazing!"

"Coming!"

Yu'an answered happily, ran over, and looked at the thing in her hand, his big grape-like eyes widening in amazement.

"Isn't this Yu'an's little water gun?"

Cheng Qiuruo wagged her index finger.

"This is different from a water gun—the notes say it's called a Gunther gun."

As she spoke, she loaded another pellet, aimed at the scarecrow in the corner, and gently squeezed the trigger.

Another "Bang!" rang out, and a hole instantly appeared in the scarecrow's body, with the pellet embedding itself in the wall behind.

Yu'an unconsciously opened his little mouth wide, his big eyes sparkling, gazing at his aunt with utter admiration.

"So, so amazing!"

Fairy Sister and Daddy had said that guns are very powerful, very advanced weapons.

But they're very hard to make in their world—who would have thought Auntie actually made one!

The little fellow tilted his small head back, puffed out his small chest, looking as if he shared in the glory, and clapped his tiny palms — pat pat pat.

"Wow! Auntie is amazing, Auntie is really awesome!"

"Mm-hmm."

Hearing the little fellow's praise, Cheng Qiuruo was so happy she couldn't close her mouth.

With her little nephew cheering her on like this, her sense of accomplishment swelled inside her, almost overflowing.

"Auntie, Yu'an wants to play with the gun too."

"Can I?"

The little fellow tilted his small head back, looking at her with eager, longing eyes full of anticipation and desire.

No boy can resist the temptation of a gun.

Haven't you seen how even Cheng Feng and the others, who seemed to be seriously doing morning drills, kept sneaking peeks this way?

Their eyes were practically glued to the Gunther gun.

What a powerful weapon — I really want one.

"You can touch it, but you can't fire it. The recoil is too strong — be careful not to hurt your wrist and arm."

Cheng Qiuruo inspected it once first, found nothing wrong, and only then handed it to the little fellow.

"Oh, okay then."

Since he couldn't shoot it, the little fellow's curiosity faded considerably.

After holding it and looking at it for a while, he soon looked thoroughly disinterested.

"Stop playing for now, come eat!"

Wang Shi called out from the doorway of the main room.

"Coming!"

The little dumpling, with his three-minute attention span, immediately abandoned the Gunther gun and scampered toward the dining table on his short little legs.

Fried meatballs, here I come!

Cheng Qiuruo watched the little fellow's back as he turned and left without a second thought, and picked up, somewhat sulkily, the Gunther gun the fickle little dumpling had forgotten on the table.

Little brat, your name is Fickle!

"If you don't want to play, I'll play by myself."

Cheng Qiuruo muttered under her breath, and the moment she turned around she saw Cheng Feng and the others crowding in.

They rubbed their hands together, their gazes burning as they stared at the Gunther gun in her hands.

"Second Miss, can we have a look?"

Cheng Qiuruo nodded.

"Sure, these bullets I'll leave for you to play with, but you can't take them outside, and no outsiders are allowed to see them."

As she spoke, she began teaching them how to load the bullets, how to aim and fire…

Meanwhile, in the main room, Yu'an wielded a spoon in his left hand and chopsticks in his right, attacking from both sides at once.

Nom nom nom — one meatball after another.

Crispy outside, tender inside — delicious!

The little fellow squinted his big grape-like eyes, wiggled his tiny feet, and ate with great relish.

While Yu'an ate to his heart's content here, Yi Jiang back at the City Lord's Manor was having nowhere near such a leisurely time.

He stared at the books spread out before him, so frustrated he was frantically scratching his head.

"Aaaah—!"

"How is there still this much left?!"

He angrily slapped his writing brush down on the desk and pointed at it.

"You're already a brush with three years of brush-age — compared to the other brushes in the manor, you're already quite mature!"

"Can't you write by yourself?!"

Hmph!

What kind of homework is this anyway?

It actually requires him to personally make up for it!

The steward who came in carrying breakfast heard this and couldn't help curling his lip.

A brush used for so long — shouldn't you be reflecting on yourself properly?

For instance, why is it that after three years of use, it still looks brand new?