Chapter 010: A Flourishing Business

Having prepared the whetstone, kitchen knife, steelyard, and some old plastic bags he found at home, Wang Qiang drew a bucket of fresh water from the well and tied everything securely to his large pushcart with rope.

Truth be told, it was quite a struggle to push it uphill. Wang Qiang wasn’t particularly strong to begin with, and the road was gravelly, jostling the cart all the way. Quite a bit of water sloshed out, and at one point a fish leapt out and nearly got crushed by the wheel.

Fortunately, all hazards were narrowly avoided, and after forty-five minutes of pushing, he finally reached the town. By now, a faint light was rising on the eastern horizon, cautiously seeping into the pale blue sky; a new day was slowly approaching from afar.

At the entrance to the market, Wang Qiang stopped his cart, panting. He didn’t go inside, but from where he stood, he could see a sea of heads and hear a cacophony of voices within.

“Make way! Make way! Watch out!”
“Discounts! Discounts! Fine white cotton shirts, only ten yuan each!”
“Hey, ma’am, want to try some five-spice sunflower seeds?”
“Fresh cabbage! Come and get it!”

The cries of vendors and the haggling of customers melded into a lively chorus.

By the season, cabbages should have just been planted; those on sale now were forced early in greenhouses—a rare sight, but not unheard of. Indeed, along the bustling market aisle, Wang Qiang spotted a middle-aged man selling cabbages. Noticing the empty space beside him, Wang Qiang parked his cart, heaved down two wooden tubs, and set them right next to the cabbage stand. The man kindly lent a hand.

“Thank you, uncle,” Wang Qiang said, lowering his tub of fish and expressing his gratitude.

As soon as he set down the tub, the man chuckled, “Young man, out doing business at your age?”

Wang Qiang, undaunted, squatted by his tub and gave a sheepish grin. “My family’s poor. I’m earning money for my school fees.”

The man gave him a thumbs-up. “Much better than my boy. All he does is hang out at the arcade all day.” He pulled up a small stool and, gesturing inside, added, “There are two fish sellers inside doing great business. You’ll have a hard time—those are old established vendors.”

Wang Qiang peered in and, sure enough, the two fish stalls near the entrance were surrounded by customers. “It’s fine,” he replied, “I have a secret trick up my sleeve.”

“Oh? A secret trick?” The man was skeptical. “You probably don’t know—there used to be three fish sellers. The other one got squeezed out by those two. What secret do you have that can beat those old hands?”

Wang Qiang placed his knife and whetstone beside him and replied off-handedly, “You’ll see soon enough.”

The man teased, “Well, I’ll have to watch and learn your secret technique then.”

As they chatted, Wang Qiang learned the man’s surname was Zhai—a rather uncommon name.

Uncle Zhai sold a few cabbages from time to time.

Twenty minutes passed, but Wang Qiang hadn’t made a single sale. People passed by indifferently, heading straight into the market. Just as Uncle Zhai had said, everyone patronized the two established stalls.

Seeing this wouldn’t do, Wang Qiang stopped chatting and began hawking loudly.

“Wild carp for sale—cheap, cheap!”

“Come get it! Only one yuan fifty per jin!”

His cries did attract a customer. A middle-aged woman pushing a bicycle paused at his call. “Hey? Qiangzi, what are you doing here?”

Hearing his name, Wang Qiang looked up and saw it was his neighbor from across the street. Properly, he should call her Aunt. “Aunt Chen, I’m here selling fish.”

“Aunt” was a local term of address.

Aunt Chen’s interest was piqued, and she parked her bicycle. “You’re selling fish? Perfect, today’s my family’s memorial day. Pick me two big carp, will you?”

Wang Qiang understood at once—his neighbor was supporting his business. He beamed. “Sure, Aunt, I’ll pick you two big ones.” He surveyed the tub, scooped up a carp as long as a chopstick, then found another of similar size.

“How much per jin?” Aunt Chen asked.

Wang Qiang waved a hand. “No charge, it’s on me.”

Aunt Chen put on a stern face. “If you don’t take my money, I won’t take the fish. If word gets back to the village, people will say I’m taking advantage of a child. I just heard you shouting one-fifty per jin—let’s stick to that.”

Wang Qiang had only been polite; he needed the money and wouldn’t actually give the fish away. He tossed the fish into a bag, hooked it onto the steelyard, and weighed it. He adjusted the weight, and when the bar was still high in the air, showed it to Aunt Chen. “One jin, five liang—two yuan twenty-five. Just give me two-twenty.”

“Alright.” Aunt Chen dug out some coins—two one-yuan coins and four five-cent coins. “Here, count it.”

Wang Qiang pocketed the change and asked, “Shall I clean the fish for you?”

Aunt Chen hesitated, surprised. “You’ll do that too?”

Uncle Zhai glanced over curiously. Since when did fish sellers clean the fish for you? The two vendors inside certainly didn’t. Was this the boy’s secret trick?

Indeed, in this era of a seller’s market, no one thought to offer such service. Meat was sold as whole cuts, vegetables often came with dirt, and “customer service” was a foreign concept.

But Wang Qiang was different. He’d lived through an age when buyers had the upper hand and knew that serving customers was an advantage. In another ten years, cleaning fish for customers would be commonplace—people would even have cleaned fish delivered to their homes.

“Of course. You’re my customer now, and the customer is always right. I must show respect to my honored customer,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

Aunt Chen laughed, delighted. “Alright, help me clean them.”

“Of course.” Wang Qiang pulled the fish from the bag and smacked it hard against the ground. With a thud, the fish flopped twice and lay still.

He picked up his kitchen knife and scraped the scales clean, then pinned the fish down and sliced open its belly.

Aunt Chen quickly reminded him, “Don’t break the gall bladder.”

If the gall bladder bursts, the fish will taste bitter. Wang Qiang knew this well—he’d cleaned many fish after taking charge of his own household in his previous life. “I know, I know,” he replied. Unconcerned by the mess, he split the belly, pulled out the innards, tore out the gills, rinsed the fish in his bucket of water, and placed it back in the bag.

He did the same with the second fish.

It took only a few minutes.

But in that brief time, when he handed the cleaned fish to Aunt Chen, Wang Qiang was surprised to find a crowd had gathered around his stall—men and women, mostly elderly.

“You clean the fish too, young man?”

“How much per jin?”

“I’ll take two, but only if you clean them—otherwise, forget it.”

Several old ladies chimed in at once.

Uncle Zhai was amazed. Such a simple gesture—cleaning fish—had drawn so many customers? He couldn’t quite grasp it, but there was no denying it worked.

Wang Qiang was elated. “Of course, of course, I’ll clean them all. One at a time, please.”

A lady in a blue shirt said, “Give me five or six small carp. My daughter-in-law just had a baby, I want to make soup for her.”

Wang Qiang suggested, “Had a baby? Then you want snakehead fish. I have one here, three or four jin. Interested?” He fished it out, splashing water everywhere.

The customers all stepped back, wary of getting wet.

The blue-shirted woman’s face lit up. “Snakehead is great!” She asked, “How much per jin?”

“Snakehead is a bit pricier—two-fifty per jin,” Wang Qiang replied.

She hesitated.

Seeing their rapport, Uncle Zhai egged her on, “You won’t buy a snakehead for your daughter-in-law after she’s had a child? Come on, sister, don’t be so stingy.”

Another round-faced aunt joined in, “That’s right, Aunt Lin. Xiao Hui gave you a big healthy grandson. If my daughter-in-law had a boy, I’d get her anything she craved, even dragon meat.”

This competitive banter among the women only helped Wang Qiang. The blue-shirted aunt, unwilling to lose face, gritted her teeth. “Two-fifty it is. I’ll take the snakehead.”

Wang Qiang weighed the fish. “Four jin, two liang. I’ll call it four jin—ten yuan. Is that alright?”

This time, the blue-shirted aunt agreed readily. “Deal. Clean it for me.”

With the money in hand, Wang Qiang energetically cleaned the fish.

When the onlookers saw he really did clean the fish, they surged forward, calling out:

“I want those two silver carp.”

“Weigh me two carp.”

“Don’t crowd! The young man is busy. I want that silver carp.”

Business was suddenly booming.

Even though the morning air was cool, Wang Qiang was soon drenched in sweat as he weighed fish, took payments, and cleaned fish nonstop. He was run off his feet.

Uncle Zhai looked on with envy, thinking this young man was both clever and hardworking. He didn’t fully understand why people were so eager for fish cleaning, but he knew a good idea when he saw one. If he were a customer, he’d likely choose Wang Qiang over the stalls inside too.

Oblivious to Uncle Zhai’s musings, Wang Qiang had just finished cleaning a silver carp for a tall, thin old man. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction—business was this good, he might make a tidy sum today. He resolved to do his best and sell out all his fish.