Chapter 12: For a Brighter Tomorrow

When Wang Qiang returned home, he found the door locked. His mother must have gone to work. He took out his key and opened the door.

As he stepped inside, a wave of the aroma of cooked rice greeted him. Looking closely, he saw a bamboo basket with freshly steamed rice inside. Although his mother had said yesterday that he should start cooking for himself today, she had still woken up around four in the morning to prepare the meal. His heart tightened with a bittersweet ache—his mother worked so hard. He needed to work even harder to earn more money, at the very least to help pay off the family’s debts.

Right, he thought. Let’s see how much I made today.

He was so eager that he didn’t even bother to bring in the wooden basin before reaching into his pocket for the day’s earnings.

A coin slipped from his hand and landed on the floor with a clink. He immediately bent down to pick it up. Times were tough—every coin mattered. Then, he dumped a handful of loose change onto the table.

There were red one-yuan notes, green two-yuan bills, even purple fifty-cent notes and brown ten-cent bills—a collection of the era’s currency.

Wang Qiang didn’t linger in nostalgia; excitement from his first successful business venture surged within him—he couldn’t wait to count his earnings.

Ten cents.

Two yuan and ten cents.

Thirty-three yuan and eighty cents.

He quickly tallied the money. Adding the forty yuan from selling the yellow catfish to Lu Dahai, he had made a total of one hundred fifty-two yuan and thirty cents today—and that was before deducting the money for meat and wheat gluten!

All in a single day.

Aside from the fishing gear, there were no other costs. This money was practically pure profit.

A factory worker, at this time, earned only three hundred yuan a month.

And he had made half a month’s wages just selling fish?

Wang Qiang was exhilarated. He understood that the spirit of entrepreneurship was only just awakening among people; most still clung to stable jobs, so he could make money fishing for now. In a few years, this era—where making easy money in business was possible—would be gone forever.

Of course, if this were the market with two stalls selling as much fish, their profit would likely be lower, since both bought farmed fish from others, incurring extra costs.

After a while, Wang Qiang managed to calm himself. He had decided: after lunch, he would put the traps back in the river.

He set about making lunch, killing four or five crucian carp and braising them in soy sauce, splitting them into two bowls. He also made braised pork with wheat gluten. When it was done, he carried the food in a plastic basket to his grandparents, letting them taste something special.

In the countryside, fish and meat were luxuries. As a grandson, he felt it was only right to show some filial respect.

…

It was now midday.

As soon as Wang Qiang stepped outside, he felt the sun blazing like a giant fireball, pouring heat and light onto the earth until it seemed everything might burst into flames. The air he breathed was scorched and dry.

He glanced up at the sky—clear and blue, dotted with white clouds, clustered together like silver waves rolling in the sea, or like mountains and blooming sea anemones on rocky isles. The afternoon promised good weather, no rain—perfect for setting his fish traps without worry.

Because of the heat, he walked quickly, turned a corner, and arrived at his grandparents’ house.

Before he even entered, he saw his grandparents sitting at a small round table, eating lunch—just loofah and edamame, nothing else.

“Grandpa, Grandma,” Wang Qiang greeted as he stepped over the threshold.

His grandmother looked up. “Oh, you’re back? Your mother couldn’t find you this morning—she was so upset.”

“You talk too much,” his grandfather grumbled. He had diabetes, and his eyesight was failing. “Get Qiang a bowl of rice so he can eat with us.”

Wang Qiang set down the plastic basket and smiled, “I brought some fish and meat for you to try.”

His grandmother, about to stand, quickly objected, “Your grandpa can’t eat braised food—he has diabetes.”

“That’s right, take it back. You and your mother should eat it,” Grandpa added.

They didn’t seem the least bit curious about how he had come by the fish and meat. Wang Qiang found this odd, but decided it was best not to make things complicated. He replied, “I didn’t add sugar—Grandpa can eat a little, just not too much.”

But his grandmother insisted, “That won’t do. You and Cheng Lin don’t have much at home, take it back.” Cheng Lin was Wang Qiang’s mother.

Grandpa said nothing, clearly of the same mind.

Seeing this, Wang Qiang said, “There’s plenty at home—please don’t refuse. I’ll eat lunch here, too. You can’t expect me to eat just loofah and edamame and save the fish and meat for Mom to come home, can you?”

At this, Grandpa gave the order, “Jiannan, why are you just standing there? Go get the rice.”

Grandma’s full name was Zhang Jiannan. She grumbled as she went to fetch a bowl, muttering that they shouldn’t be eating Qiang’s fish and meat, that his family had no money, and so on.

While she was gone, Grandpa, facing Wang Qiang’s direction, asked, “Qiang, I heard from little Chen next door that you were selling fish at the market this morning?”

Wang Qiang was moving a small stool when he heard this and paused. No wonder his grandparents hadn’t questioned him—they already knew. Since there was nothing to hide, he brought the stool to the table and sat down. “Yes, I caught some fish with the traps yesterday and sold them.”

Grandma returned with a bowl of rice, handed it to him, and asked with concern, “How much did you make?”

“Don’t worry about that, just eat,” Grandpa interjected, but then turned to Wang Qiang, “Did you make thirty yuan?”

Wang Qiang was caught between amusement and embarrassment; he thought Grandpa wouldn’t ask, but here he was. He hesitated, worried the real number would shock them, so he followed Grandpa’s lead. “Yes, I made fifty.”

Grandma was startled, “That much?”

Grandpa, about to take a bite, stopped, “Fifty yuan!?”

Wang Qiang blinked, feeling he had said too much, but it was too late to take it back. He put a piece of meat in Grandpa’s bowl. “Yes, there were a lot of fish today.” He was glad he hadn’t told the truth—one hundred fifty might have sent their imaginations running wild.

“Good!” Grandpa said, and nothing more.

Grandma, however, ate the fish belly Wang Qiang had given her, glancing at her “mischievous” grandson as if she barely knew him, her heart both proud and sad. Children of poor families grow up quickly—her second grandson was truly sensible.

Wang Qiang ate in silence, savoring a piece of braised pork. He could not calm the emotions within him.

Before, his mother hadn’t even wanted to eat eggs, cooking tomato and egg only for his sake.

Now, with his own hard work, he had made more than one hundred fifty yuan in a morning—enough to buy dozens of pounds of meat.

Suddenly, he realized his grandparents weren’t eating the fish or meat. “Why aren’t you eating? Don’t you like it?”

“No, no,” his grandmother waved him off, her eyes lingering on the food but her chopsticks reaching for the vegetables.

He understood—they couldn’t bear to eat it. So he said nothing more and simply picked up pieces to place in their bowls.

“Grandma, have some meat.”

“That’s enough, that’s enough.”

“Grandpa, have some fish. There are no bones in the belly.”

“Good, good.”

Watching his grandparents eat, their mouths glistening with oil, Wang Qiang felt a deep sense of fulfillment. He was truly improving his family’s life with his actions. Though it was only the beginning, things would only get better.

Keep going.

For a brighter tomorrow.