Chapter 009: The Dream Voyager Sets Sail

Dawn had yet to arrive.
The pale belly of the eastern sky shimmered faintly among the clusters of reeds, illuminating Wang Qiang’s field of view.
He gently parted the dew-laden reeds, droplets falling coolly onto his face.
He wiped his face with a swift motion, shook off the moisture, and slipped inside.
Though it was summer, the early morning breeze still carried a chill, making Wang Qiang shiver. He forced his eyes open wide, searching for the first fishing rod planted beside the dawn cypress tree.
“Hope there’s a turtle,” he murmured, pulling the rod from the earth. The soil, yielding to his strength, splattered onto the tip of his rubber shoes, damp and sticky, but Wang Qiang paid it no mind, gripping the rod and lifting it steadily upward.
His movements were gentle, but the silence was profound, broken only by the rushing sound of water in the river.
The rod was light, and Wang Qiang was slightly disappointed. He knew turtles weren’t easily caught, but couldn’t help sighing as he retrieved the empty rod.
Onward.
Nine rods remained.
He didn’t lose heart, bending along the riverbank through the lush reeds until he reached the second rod. By coincidence, the only building across the river lit up its second floor; perhaps someone was up for the restroom or to greet the new day.
Wang Qiang steadied himself and lifted the second rod—still light.
“Seems turtles are not so easily hooked,” he shook his head helplessly.
Third rod.
Seventh rod.
Soon, all ten rods were up, just as he expected—no turtles at all.
Wang Qiang felt a pang of regret, no turtles caught, and the pig liver—wait.
Yes, where was the pig liver?
He sensed he had overlooked something. He squatted to check all ten rods; except for the second and sixth, the pig liver on the others had vanished.
So, perhaps turtles had visited last night.
The more Wang Qiang considered, the more likely it seemed, though he couldn’t fathom why, if the liver was eaten, no turtles were caught. Maybe other fish ate it?
Uncertain, he tried to think positively, assuming turtles had indeed feasted, perhaps the hooks were at fault.
After pondering a while, Wang Qiang decided to try different hooks today. For now, he turned to the fish traps. If turtles weren’t caught, surely other fish would be.
The first round trap was by the marshy bank. He stepped onto the mud, grabbed the nylon rope, and pulled it toward him, aided by the water’s buoyancy.
It was heavy.
Difficult to move.

Wang Qiang increased his strength, and amid the rippling waves, the round trap slowly surfaced, stirring lively commotion on the water.
Splash, splash—many fish tails thrashed, sending up sprays, and the tranquil riverside burst into chaos like water hitting a hot oil pan.
“So many fish!” Delighted, he forgot about his shoes getting wet and pulled harder.
As the round trap exited the water, Wang Qiang’s effort grew.
“Heave-ho!”
He cried out, and the trap broke free of the surface, droplets showering him, soaking half his shirt. Still, he placed the trap on the shore and peered inside in the dim light.
Good heavens.
At least twenty fish wriggled energetically within.
He estimated about ten pounds, but didn’t hurry to untie the trap. First, he checked for water snakes and crayfish; finding none, he emptied the fish into the bucket.
Most were crucian carp, some small—two or three ounces—some larger, five or six. The river hadn’t yet been heavily fished, so the catch was substantial.
The bucket filled at once.
Wang Qiang was pleased, set the bucket aside, and grabbed the lead bucket for the second round trap, seven or eight meters away.
Following the same method, he hauled up another trap.
This time, a pleasant surprise—a four-pound blackfish inside.
He tipped it into the lead bucket.
Both buckets now full, he had to carry them home and empty them into the large wooden basin, then returned for another round.
After all, he wasn’t a professional fisherman and lacked proper tools.
The third and fourth traps yielded, besides crucian carp, three silver carp and four or five crayfish.
Crayfish were worthless; he tossed them back into the river.
Only the ground traps remained.
Wang Qiang found the cypress tree anchoring the ground trap’s rope, untied it, and pulled with force. The water’s buoyancy helped, and the trap quickly surfaced, crowding onto the shore.
Yet as he lifted it from the water, it felt weighty and powerful. Wang Qiang couldn’t help but smile with excitement—the heavier, the more fish.
Sure enough, after much effort, he dragged it onto land and saw it packed with lively, jumping fish.
The last ground trap seemed tangled in aquatic weeds, requiring much work to pull it out.
From the feel, Wang Qiang guessed the two ground traps together held forty or fifty pounds of fish.
…
At home, in the hall.

After two trips, he brought the ground traps and buckets home, emptying the fish into the wooden basin.
He hadn’t checked the ground traps yet.
But he fetched another basin; the first one was already full with thirty or forty pounds of crucian carp.
Now Wang Qiang could properly inspect the ground traps.
At a glance, about fifty or sixty crucian carp, various sizes. He tipped one trap into the basin, working up a sweat.
Suddenly, a massive yellow fish splashed into the basin.
“What’s this?” Wang Qiang focused and, upon seeing it, broke into a broad grin—a yellow carp, sixty or seventy centimeters long. By his reckoning, it weighed at least ten pounds.
Yellow carp, also known as bighead carp, resemble silver carp but are much more valuable.
Wang Qiang was overjoyed; this fish might fetch thirty or forty yuan.
Bighead carp only increase in value with size; thirty or forty yuan was just his estimate, and a good buyer could pay more.
After emptying the other trap, he estimated a total catch of seventy or eighty pounds of fish. With water and the basin’s weight, it could exceed a hundred pounds.
A bicycle wouldn’t do—it wasn’t suitable for transporting the load.
Wang Qiang pondered how to get so many fish to the market. His eyes scanned the hall and finally settled on the wheelbarrow by the back door.
He tried it—only one basin could be secured. He gave up.
If the small cart wouldn’t work, what about the big one?
Wang Qiang headed to his grandmother’s house, since his own lacked a large cart.
Just then, his grandmother was sweeping the yard, newly risen.
He explained his purpose, successfully borrowed the large cart, and wheeled it to his own door. He loaded both basins, tying them down with hemp rope.
Done.
He glanced at the big-framed bicycle, but decided against it; his mother would need it soon. He’d just endure the extra effort and push the cart to town.
Looking at the seventy or eighty pounds of lively fish, Wang Qiang felt a surge of excitement. The earlier turtle was an unexpected boon, but these fish were the result of careful planning. Whether he could sell them would prove the start of his fortune from fishing—he hoped for a promising beginning.
Off he went.
The Dream cart set sail.