Chapter 23: A Sense of Vindication

Dawn was just breaking when a crisp birdcall sliced through the sky, shattering the early morning stillness.

Wang Qiang, still deep in sleep, was roused by his mother. He yawned, shook his head to clear the drowsiness, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and, once finished, returned to his room to put on his watch. He didn’t particularly care about wearing a watch, but since he’d be selling fish soon and there’d be no clock at the market, he might easily lose track of time. It wouldn’t do to be late for the training he was supposed to give—how could he teach others if he himself was tardy?

Breakfast was already prepared; it seemed his mother had been up for a while.

As Wang Qiang ate, he gave his mother some pointers about selling fish. “Mom, when we weigh the fish for customers, make sure to tilt the balance scale upward.”

“Why? Wouldn’t that give them extra weight for free?” His mother picked up a piece of salted melon.

Wang Qiang took a mouthful of rice soaked in hot water, swallowed, then replied, “That little extra doesn’t matter much. The main thing is to make the customers feel like they’re getting a bargain—then they’ll come back next time.” He had just raised his chopsticks again when he added, “After weighing, ask if they want us to clean the fish. If they do, we help them with that.”

His mother was surprised. “Help clean the fish? When I used to buy fish, no one ever did that for me.”

Wang Qiang took another bite of yesterday’s leftover cabbage. “Good service brings repeat customers.”

“All right, I get it.” His mother finished her meal in a few quick bites, glanced out the window into the darkness, and said, “I’ll go find a flashlight. You keep eating.”

Wang Qiang responded with a casual “Okay,” and finished his meal at a leisurely pace.

Just as he was about to take his bowl to wash, his mother emerged from the back holding an old-fashioned tin flashlight.

He couldn’t help but take a second look. Such flashlights had become rare in later years. The silver metal casing was etched with vertical grooves, and just below the lamp head was a red dot—press it and the light would shine, release it and the beam would fade. The real switch was a small nub below that slid up and down.

He remembered these tin flashlights well; they used two large No. 1 batteries.

Sure enough, his mother took out a large blue-and-white battery and loaded it into the flashlight. Rural families were thrifty, always removing the batteries to prevent them from draining.

The batteries were White Elephant brand, which were nearly ubiquitous at the time. The “one is better than six” Nanfu batteries hadn’t become widespread yet.

After washing the dishes, mother and son each picked up a lead bucket and set out.

……

It was still quite dark outside.

His mother turned on the flashlight, a beam of orange-yellow light piercing the gloom ahead.

Not far away, a patch of green vegetable plots appeared.

Walking along the ridges between the fields, lush scallions grew tall on both sides. Up ahead, a trellis woven from reeds supported loofah vines, their tender leaves beaded with dew. Each loofah, the length of a chopstick, swayed gently in the breeze.

“The loofahs are ready to eat,” his mother remarked casually.

Wang Qiang grunted in agreement. “Fried loofah with eggs would be good, if we have time.”

The ground was still damp, clinging to their shoes. Wang Qiang chatted with his mother about daily matters as they walked.

They reached the western riverbank.

His mother led the way, pushing aside the reeds. A shower of dewdrops rained down with a splash. “Oh!” she exclaimed.

Wang Qiang was hit by a few drops as well and wiped his face with his arm.

They descended a set of blue-brick steps. Since people often came to the river to wash things, most houses along the banks had built small stairways down to the water.

Lit by the flashlight, the river’s surface shimmered with ripples.

He set his bucket down. “Mom, shine the light here for me. I’ll pull up the trap.”

“Alright.” His mother directed the beam.

Wang Qiang rolled up his pants and found the nylon cord tied to a stake. They hadn’t checked the trap yesterday, so today’s catch should be better.

As expected, the trap was heavy; the nylon rope bit into his hand, making it ache. Grunting, he hauled it up, water splashing over his sandaled feet with a whiff of fishy scent.

Inside the round trap, countless fish thrashed and slapped around.

His mother shone the flashlight inside and gasped. “Wow, that’s a lot of fish!”

He quickly set the trap on the bank. Glancing inside, Wang Qiang saw at least thirty shimmering silver crucian carp. Two days and one night had passed since they last checked the trap, so the numbers were much higher than last time. Looking closely, he even spotted a large, yellow-black fish—it looked like a mandarin fish.

Following habit, he checked for water snakes or crayfish. Indeed, there were many red shells—plenty of crayfish this time.

He untied the trap, tossed the crayfish into one lead bucket—they’d make a good meal later—and dumped the crucian carp into the other. Two had already died, so Wang Qiang simply threw them back into the river.

“Hey, a mandarin fish?” His mother picked up the big yellow-black fish for a closer look.

Mandarin fish is another name for the Chinese perch.

Wang Qiang smiled. “We’re lucky. This one must weigh four or five jin—should fetch fifteen or sixteen yuan.” Mandarin fish sold for much more than crucian carp, mainly because of their delicious meat. He remembered that the famous Squirrel Fish at Songhe Tower in Suzhou used this very species.

“Is it worth that much?” His mother’s face lit up.

Wang Qiang nodded. “Let’s just hope someone recognizes its value.”

His mother laughed. “If not, never mind—just take it to Lu Dahai. Even though they promised you two meals a day for training, we shouldn’t just freeload. Bring them a fish—it’s always good to be generous.”

She was honest and straightforward, unlike some rural women who were always looking to take advantage of others.

“No need for that, is there?” Wang Qiang started, but seeing his mother’s displeased look, quickly added, “Alright, Mom. Once the bucket’s full, take it back and put the fish in the wooden basin. Don’t forget to add water.”

His mother hefted the bucket with effort. “I remember, I remember.”

She climbed the blue-brick steps and carried the fish home.

Wang Qiang, relying on memory, found the second round trap. This time, there was a water snake inside. Startled, he hesitated to untie it right away, but upon closer inspection, saw that the snake’s belly was swollen and it was motionless—clearly dead from lack of oxygen after being trapped underwater too long.

Normally, water snakes can only survive eighteen hours underwater. The trap had probably been set shortly before the snake crawled in.

After disposing of the snake, his mother returned with the bucket.

The second trap contained a big silver carp, seven or eight crayfish, and the rest were all crucian carp.

Wang Qiang pulled up four traps in a row, surprised to find a total of fifty or sixty jin of fish—almost as much as the previous haul, including the ground traps. Unfortunately, apart from four or five silver carp and the mandarin fish, the rest were all crucian carp.

“All done?” his mother asked, squatting behind him.

“Two ground traps left.” Wang Qiang shone his flashlight around, searching for the nylon cords.

Soon, both ground traps were hauled up.

The first contained two dead crucian carp; the second, a dead black carp—a pity. Fish often died in th