Chapter 007: Wondering If There Will Be Any Gains Tonight

After bidding farewell to his old classmates, Wang Qiang bought some red earthworms and sesame oil in Fourth Class Town. He was about to ride his bicycle home when he suddenly remembered his mother mentioning that she had seen softshell turtles at the West Gully shoal. On a whim, he spent another two yuan on pork liver.

He could have dug up the earthworms himself, but, not wanting to lose precious time setting his traps, he opted to buy them in town. Money was worth more these days; pork cost only 4.5 yuan per jin. Aside from the ninety yuan he’d spent on traps, the other three items together cost just five yuan. Even so, he only had seven yuan left in his pocket. With such an investment, he naturally hoped to make it back.

Pedaling his sturdy old bicycle back home, the journey took almost half an hour. Once home, he parked the bike outside, fished out his key, and went in. The round wall clock showed it was only two in the afternoon. He took the traps off the bike, found a chipped bowl, and retrieved a small wooden stick from behind the stove. He dumped the earthworms into the bowl and mashed them into a pulp, then mixed in the sesame oil.

When he’d finished, Wang Qiang went to the square table, took some leftover cold rice his mother had left in a bamboo basket, mixed it with sesame oil, and shaped it into small balls. Muttering to himself, “If Mom finds out, she’ll scold me to death.”

His family was poor and his mother was very frugal. Wang Qiang knew she only cooked white rice when he was home; otherwise, it was always a mix of cornmeal and rice. In the new century, eating cornmeal would be called healthy or fashionable, but for now, it was simply a way to stave off hunger and save the precious rice.

With the bait ready, Wang Qiang set up the round trap and the cage trap, loading them with the bait. Fish are fond of fragrant, fishy, and pungent smells, so a good lure must possess those qualities. They are most sensitive to the colors red, white, and yellow, so he tried to make the bait match those colors as closely as possible.

Satisfied with his preparations, he took the cage to the West Gully shoal, just a short walk from home.

At the riverbank, he initially considered tossing the trap in from the shore. But there were more tiny shrimp near the banks, and especially among the water plants, the crayfish were even more numerous—not ideal for catching fish. After thinking it over, Wang Qiang decided to wade in and place the cage in the middle of the river. That way, he’d have a better chance of catching big fish, or even a snakehead, which fetched a much higher price than common carp or silver bream.

He stripped down, grabbed the trap, and waded slowly into the water. A shiver ran through him at the chill. “Better get used to the water or I might cramp up,” he muttered. He stood in the river for a moment, bare-chested, then held the cage in one hand and paddled with the other, making his way to the middle.

With a splash, he threw the cage into the water, sending droplets flying onto his face. He wiped his face and hair, grabbed the rope attached to the trap, and swam back to shore, tying the rope to a slender tree. Then he repeated the process with the other trap, placing it further out.

Finally, he set the round trap along the bank. With the traps in place, all he had to do was rise early the next day to collect them and hopefully sell the catch at the morning market.

Standing on the shore, Wang Qiang shook the water from his body and was about to gather his clothes and head home when he suddenly recalled his mother’s tale of seeing a softshell turtle here. He crouched down to look around.

What’s this?

Near the reeds, he spotted a footprint resembling a duck’s, but smaller. A surge of excitement ran through him—it was a turtle’s footprint. Duck prints weren’t this small.

It seemed buying the pork liver was a wise choice. He was itching with anticipation, but knowing the odds of a turtle crawling onto the bank by itself were slim, he decided to take the initiative.

Turtles are shy and will dive into the water at the slightest disturbance, making them hard to catch during the day. So Wang Qiang resolved to return and fish for them after supper. If he caught one, great; if not, it would be an adventure—these things couldn’t be forced.

Having confirmed there were indeed turtles at West Gully shoal, Wang Qiang’s mind began to buzz with possibilities. He didn’t return home right away but instead headed to his grandparents’ house at the eastern end of the road.

His grandparents’ home was a row of three whitewashed brick rooms. When Wang Qiang entered, his grandmother was sewing shoe soles while his grandfather, whose vision had been ruined by diabetes, was lying in a deck chair, rocking back and forth with a creak.

“Who’s there?” his grandfather called out, his hearing still sharp.

His grandmother looked up and smiled. “Qiangzi.”

His grandfather sat up at once, groping with both hands. “Qiangzi, you haven’t come by all summer vacation. Come here, let me see you.”

Though he said “see,” he couldn’t really see anymore. Wang Qiang went over anyway. “Grandpa, Grandma.”

His grandfather gripped his hand, sighing, “You’ve gotten thinner, thinner than at New Year’s. Where’s your mother?”

Wang Qiang crouched by the deck chair. “She’s tending the vegetable patch. She starts work at the textile mill tomorrow and didn’t want to run out of time.”

His grandmother set aside the shoe sole and asked with concern, “Did you manage to gather all your tuition? If not, your grandpa and I have a little saved up—you take it.”

Though his grandparents had insisted his parents split off from the family, they’d always treated Wang Qiang with great affection. His uncle hadn’t married yet, and his cousin was quiet and withdrawn, while Wang Qiang’s sweet tongue made him their favorite.

“It’s all together, it’s all together,” Wang Qiang hurried to reassure them.

“Who did you borrow from this time?” his grandfather sighed, patting Wang Qiang’s hand. “Life isn’t easy for your family—I know. I never should have let your father split off so early.”

His grandmother interjected, “But what choice did we have? Your third uncle is thirty and still unmarried, we have to think of him.”

It was true; in the countryside, if the family hadn’t split, no girl would want to marry in. His grandparents had no choice. Their two elder sons were married; if the youngest didn’t wed soon, people would laugh. Even so, there were already people gossiping behind their backs about his third uncle being unmarried at thirty.

Wang Qiang hadn’t understood all this as a child, and used to stay away in a huff. But now, with a second chance at life, all those old grievances had long since faded. His grandparents had their own hardships.

They chatted about family matters for a while, and then his grandfather, worried, said, “Your second uncle’s house still owes two or three thousand outside, right? If they borrowed for your tuition too, it’s probably four or five thousand now.”

His grandmother fretted, “Four or five thousand! If your second uncle worked on the construction site without eating or drinking for a year and a half, he’d barely pay that off. What are we to do?”

Wang Qiang fell silent. Five thousand yuan was no small sum. His father only earned ten yuan a day on the construction site. Even working every day of the year, he’d barely make three thousand.

Fortunately, his parents hadn’t needed to borrow for his tuition just yet, so their debt was only about three thousand. Even so, it was a crushing burden. In the countryside, raising three thousand yuan in a short time was no easy task.

If only I had two or three thousand in hand, maybe I could turn it into more, Wang Qiang thought to himself. For now, he needn’t worry about the debt—so long as it was repaid by year’s end. The other creditors were unlike his third aunt and wouldn’t press so hard.

His grandfather spoke up, “Qiangzi, stay for dinner tonight, and bring your mother too. We just cooked some pork yesterday.”

Wang Qiang quickly declined, “No, no, I just wanted to ask if you have any bamboo poles and some strong nylon line, and if you could give me a box of needles.”

His grandmother asked curiously, “What do you need all that for?”

Of course, Wang Qiang couldn’t say he was going after turtles. If they told his mother, he’d never be able to sneak out tonight. The best time to catch turtles was at night. “Oh, just making something,” he replied.

“What are you making?” his grandmother pressed.

His grandfather, impatient, said, “Why all these questions? Just give Qiangzi what he wants.”

As head of the family, his grandfather commanded respect. His grandmother said no more and fetched several long bamboo poles, a roll of nylon fishing line, and finally a box of sewing needles from the cabinet—a couple dozen in all.

With these supplies in hand, Wang Qiang felt a ripple of excitement. Now he could craft his turtle-fishing rods. The thought of turtles selling for hundreds a jin was irresistible. He just wondered if tonight would bring any luck.