He was Almost Absorbed by the System

Chapter Forty Nine - The Benefits of Best Friends

"Pfft, I saw how the last lot of girls lamented that you were not of age during the last drop," Zhang Min mentioned. "You could get yourself a wife and produce the first fourth generation brat."

"Don't need," Song Jian stated.

"Oh," the smaller man teased. "Don't you think you would feel better, putting it in a woman?"

Song Jian turned over onto his side and gave his friend a long, meaningful look. "You don't like?" His voice audibly deepened, causing a shiver to trail down Zhang Min's back.

"I never said that," he denied, softly.

"Good," the larger man said as he climbed on top of Zhang Min, parting his legs as he did so. "Want to do it again?" Zhang Min could barely nod in agreement as his body was plundered and he began to lose himself to the pleasure.

****

"Is dad joining another wagon line down to the Outsiders?" Willow burst in to the main home without greeting.  His mother looked up from her needlework; they had managed to obtain a rare bolt of cloth from the Outsiders recently and she had been busy turning it into dresses for her three daughters.

"Hmm," came the affirmation.

"Can I go with him?  Can I, mum?"

"No," his mother advised him.  "You have work to do, remember."  He flopped down onto a chair beside the table and sulked, nudging the fruit bowl he had carved for his parents along the surface.  He had decorated it with the shapes of common fruits found in the forest, including one that appeared cut in half and ready to be consumed.  The neighbours had commented how they could even see beads of juice ready to spill from it.

"But it's dull to carve the same things over and over again," Willow complained.  It was why he had asked to go travel with his father.  He didn't really wish to visit the Outsiders, after all Slate didn't like them, but anything was better than being in the village and subject to villagers whims.

"I don't understand," his mother frowned.  "There are many things that the village require to be carved and crafted." Such as cups and buckets, plates and wagon wheels even ornaments and dolls, though these were requested much less often.

"Women keep asking me to carve them a fruit bowl," he grumbled as he lay his cheek upon the table.  "And they all want it to look exactly like yours."

His mother raised one eyebrow as she glanced at him, before returning to her work.  "Well you may tell them that it cannot look exactly like mine."  He grinned broadly at the woman his eyes filled with hope.  "But you still cannot go travel on the wagons."  He groaned and continued to sulk without care of appearances.  "If you are bored, you can help Corn practice his bow."

Willow's eyes narrowed in thought.  A bow... he hadn't carved one of those yet... though he had produced many arrows.  "Okay," he agreed, easily and went in search of his brother.  His mother watched him leave with raised suspicions, but simply sighed in the end, wondering how she could have raised such an unfathomable child.

****

Corn enjoyed spending time in the company of his brother, they seldom did so these days, what with Willow busy crafting during the day and busy disappearing into the green forest in the evening.  He was even more surprised when his brother asked to see his bow.  Corn handed it to him, but instantly began to fuss as the older boy almost ruthlessly tested the weapons flexibility.

"Sorry," Willow said and handed it back, before he sat upon the leaf strewn ground in thought.  Corn shrugged and set an arrow in his bow before aiming at the target.  He calmed his heart and slowed his breath before releasing the arrow from his hold.  The projectile took flight, piercing the still air, to settle firmly near the centre of the target.  "Oh!" Willow said suddenly, surprising Corn from his meditative state.  "Sorry, I will see you later okay?"