The night was unusually long, and to Zeng Mu, hiding in the cabinet, it felt longer still. Not a single passing second went unused. He could hear the wooden bed creaking, the rhythmic shuddering like rolling waves, and, most distinctly of all, the cries that could send tingles through anyone.
He's practically a bull, he sighed inwardly, describing Gitton the way Pabojin had once described him. Then he immediately realized that comparing this fellow to a bull insulted the animal. Cow dung was more like it.
He had no idea how long the primal battle lasted, but Zeng Mu distinctly counted five rounds. By the time it finally ended, he could no longer hear the frogs calling in the fields, nor the rustling of fallen leaves in the courtyard.
Galsworthy and Gitton stopped talking. Zeng Mu thought they had fallen asleep, but soon the scrape of a match came from the bed, and smoke drifted into his nose. The fellow had lit a cigarette.
"Whew..."
"Worthy..." he began, his voice limp and weak. "After I become village chief, can I really get all the villagers involved the way you said, then go to your father and ask him to come here and work with us?"
"Relax. You've asked that countless times. I swear on my name that we absolutely can."
"But you left him back then, and you haven't contacted him for years. If you suddenly go looking for him, will he agree to help us? I'm also afraid he'll look down on me. Haven't you always said your father has high standards?"
"Heh..." Galsworthy laughed. "Do you think my father has any principles? He's just a merchant who loves Livre and mineral deposits. To expand the family's business, he even arranged my engagement to a man when I was