Reborn in 1984, fishing and hunting in Jiangnan

Chapter 19 Investment

"This is?"

Zhou Min glanced at Zhang Jianguo.

"Auntie, my name is Zhang Jianguo, and I'm also Teacher Zhao's student. I was there the day Teacher Zhao was hospitalized."

Zhang Jianguo scratched the back of his head, his speech a little stammering, as if his tongue was tied in knots.

"Oh, it's you." Zhou Min nodded.

"Xiao Jun said, 'Go back and get the money from your mother, thirty-five yuan and sixty cents.'"

Your mother had a tough time raising you all by herself.

Zhang Jianguo blushed, his face turning red to the roots of his ears, and stammered, "N-nothing, it's nothing."

Zhou Min didn't say anything more.

He turned around and took two bowls from the cupboard, placing them in a row on the stove.

He took another pair of chopsticks, tapped them on the rim of the bowl to align the tips, and placed them on the bowl.

"Sit down, don't stand. The food will be ready in a bit."

Chen Zheng sat down, and Zhang Jianguo followed suit.

The two people sat on small stools next to the stove.

The small stool was made by Zhao Deming himself, with the wooden surface polished smooth.

It's a bit low to sit on; my knees are almost touching my chin.

At this moment, Zhao Xiaojun ran over, squeezed between Chen Zheng and Zhang Jianguo, and looked up at them, saying:

"Brother Zheng, my mom's stewed chicken is so delicious! A hundred times better than my dad's!"

Zhao Deming, who was in the inner room, heard this and chuckled, "Your mother cooks better than me no matter what she makes, are you satisfied now?"

Zhao Xiaojun chuckled, rested his head on Chen Zheng's arm, and rubbed against it.

Zhou Min ladled the chicken soup out of the pot and put it in a large, rough earthenware bowl.

A layer of golden oil floated on the soup noodles, and the chicken was stewed until it was so tender that the bones fell off.

She carried the bowl into the inner room, placed it on the bedside table, scooped up a spoonful of soup, and blew on it.

It was brought to Zhao Deming's lips.

"Have some soup. It's been simmering for two hours; the meat is practically falling apart."

Zhao Deming opened his mouth, drank it, smacked his lips, and nodded: "Delicious."

Zhou Min scooped up another spoonful and handed it to Zhao Deming, who drank it.

The two didn't say much, but there was an indescribable tacit understanding between them.

As Chen Zheng watched this scene, he suddenly began to doubt the gossip he had heard from the village.

What do you mean Zhou Min is heartless, leaving Teacher Zhao alone in the countryside?

Zhou Min disliked the village for being too poor and didn't want to come.

What? Teacher Zhao has a bad relationship with his wife; they don't see each other even once a year.

These rumors are probably just wild guesses made by the villagers.

After feeding the soup, Zhou Min came out from the inner room and set the bowls and chopsticks on the table.

A pot of chicken soup, a plate of scrambled eggs, a plate of pickled vegetables, and a plate of peanuts.

There was also a bowl of steamed white flour buns, which were plump and steaming hot.

These things are considered plentiful in the village.

White flour steamed buns, in particular, are something we rarely eat, only steaming a pot for special occasions like Chinese New Year.

This was probably brought back by Zhou Min from the city; the village's supply and marketing cooperative couldn't buy such fine white flour.

"Eat up, don't be shy."

As Zhou Min spoke, she placed a chicken leg on Chen Zheng's plate and then placed a chicken leg on Zhang Jianguo's plate.

I then put a chicken wing on Zhao Xiaojun's plate.

She didn't eat anything herself, but sat at the table, holding a glass of water and slowly drinking it.

"Auntie, you should eat too," Chen Zheng said.

"I'm not hungry. You guys eat."

Zhou Min took a sip of water, put down the cup, and looked at Chen Zheng.

"Zhengwa, I heard you went to the county to sell fish today? How much did you make?"

Chen Zheng was taken aback; he hadn't expected her to ask that.

Villagers generally don't ask others how much money they've earned directly, as they consider it impolite.

"More than sixty yuan."

Chen Zheng told the truth. Zhou Min nodded: "That's right. How old are you?"

"nineteen."

"At nineteen, I earned more than sixty yuan a day, more than I earned back then."

When she said this, there was no envy or surprise in her tone; she was simply stating a fact.

Chen Zheng didn't know how to respond, so he lowered his head and ate his chicken leg.

The chicken was stewed until tender, falling off the bone with a single bite, and had the aroma of ginger slices and scallion segments.

This is the way they stew it in the city, it's different from how they do it in the village.

In the village, people like to add soy sauce when stewing chicken, which makes it look reddish-brown and has a strong salty and savory flavor.

Zhou Min's stewed chicken doesn't use soy sauce; the broth is clear, fresh, and not greasy.

"Zhengwa, how much did Deming's medical expenses cost in total? Tell me the truth."

Zhou Min put down her cup and looked into his eyes.

Chen Zheng looked up and met her gaze.

Her eyes were different from Zhao Deming's. Zhao Deming's eyes were gentle, and he looked at people with a smile.

Her eyes were cold, as if she could see through everything and didn't beat around the bush.

"Medical expenses and examination fees totaled a little over forty. Adding the miscellaneous expenses for food and transportation over the past few days, it came to less than fifty."

Chen Zheng didn't hide anything and told him everything.

He knew he couldn't hide it.

Zhou Min is the kind of person who wants to calculate everything clearly. If you try to hide things from her, she'll be even more unhappy.

Zhou Min nodded, took something wrapped in a handkerchief from her pocket, placed it on the table, and pushed it towards her.

The handkerchief is white with blue flowers, folded neatly into a square, with all four corners aligned, and then unfolded.

Inside was a stack of money, ten-yuan notes, five-yuan notes, and two-yuan notes.

There were also small bills, neatly stacked.

"Here are fifty-six yuan. Count them." Chen Zheng looked at the stack of money but didn't touch it.

"Auntie, I can't accept this money. Teacher Zhao has been kind to me, I..."

"Listen to me," Zhou Min interrupted him.

"You have done Deming a favor, and Deming has done you a favor, but these are two different things."

We are grateful for your help to Deming, but we cannot ask you to pay for his medical expenses.

You are still a child, and your family is not well-off.

"Take this money. I won't feel right if you don't."

Chen Zheng looked at the stack of money, then at Teacher Zhao.

Zhao Deming was leaning against the bed, looking this way, when their eyes met.

Zhao Deming's lips moved slightly, and he nodded slightly to Chen Zheng.

He meant, "Take it, don't push it away."

"Auntie, I'll accept it. I'll come see Teacher Zhao again once he's better."

Chen Zheng put the money away and tucked it into his inner pocket.

Zhang Jianguo sat to the side, head down, eating his steamed bun, not daring to utter a single word.

With cheeks puffed out high, he chewed very carefully, afraid of making a sound.

By the time we finished eating, it was already dark.

Chen Zheng helped clear the dishes, wiped the table, and then wiped the stove.

Zhou Min watched from the side, neither stopping them nor saying thank you.

After wiping the stove and washing his hands, Chen Zheng walked to the doorway of the inner room:

"Teacher Zhao, please take good care of yourself. I'll come to see you again in a couple of days."

Zhao Deming nodded, pulled a notebook from under his pillow, and handed it to him: "Zhengwa, this is for you."

Chen Zheng took it and saw that it was a book titled "Freshwater Fish Farming Technology".

It was compiled by the county aquatic products company, mimeographed, with yellowed paper and curled edges.

But it's very well preserved, without a single stain.

Tucked inside the book were several small slips of paper with annotations written by Zhao Deming.

The handwriting is neat and tidy, with no carelessness in any stroke.

"Teacher Zhao, this..."

"Take a look. I've already seen it, I don't need it anymore."

If you want to get into aquaculture, you need to read books first, master the theory, and then start doing it. You can't just act blindly.

As Zhao Deming spoke, he coughed twice.

"If you don't understand something in the book, come ask me. Although I've never raised fish, the principles are the same."

I know a little more about biology than you do.

Chen Zheng tucked the book into his coat, pressing it against his chest. The cover was a little cool, but it warmed up quickly.

"Teacher Zhao, I've got it."

As I stepped outside, the moon rose, hanging like a sickle in the eastern sky, cold and clear.

The village was quiet, with only the occasional bark of a dog, which was then carried away by the wind.

The wind blowing across the lake in the distance carries the faint scent of reeds.

Zhang Jianguo walked ahead, his steps light and quick, humming a song.

The tune was off-key for miles, and no one could make out what it was humming.

"Jianguo, what are you humming?"

"Didn't you recognize the 'On the Hopeful Fields'?"

"I didn't recognize it."

"Hehe, that's just how I sing, I'm off-key."

My mother said my voice is like a broken gong; it can scare fish away as soon as I open my mouth.

Chen Zheng smiled, and the two walked back along the village road.

The cornfields on both sides of the road rustled with the leaves.

The moonlight shone on the corn cobs, giving them a silvery-white sheen.

Chen Zheng and Zhang Jianguo walked to the village entrance in the dark; the moon was already high in the sky.

At this moment, under the old locust tree at the village entrance, several old men were still chatting idly while enjoying the cool shade.

Seeing the two of them approaching, an old man shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Zhengwa! I heard you went to the county to sell fish today? How much did you make?"

Chen Zheng smiled and said, "It's not much, just enough for a bowl of noodles."

The old men laughed, and someone said, "This kid's got a tight tongue," before going back to their conversation.

The two turned into Chen Zheng's yard.

The main room was dark; Father and Mother must have already gone to sleep.

Chen Zheng put the fish basket down.

There are still a few small crucian carp left in the basket; I'll keep them in the bucket and deal with them tomorrow.

He pulled out the money he earned from selling fish that day from his pocket—a stack of small bills and coins.

I sat down on the stone stool in the courtyard by the moonlight, smoothed out each bill one by one, and stacked them according to their denominations.

Zhang Jianguo squatted down beside him, resting his chin on his hands, watching him count the money.

"The money from selling the fish totaled sixty-seven yuan."

Chen Zheng finished counting the money, then divided it into two piles.

"Let's split it in half."

He handed one of the stacks to Zhang Jianguo.

Zhang Jianguo didn't take it; he withdrew his hand and shook his head vigorously.

"No, no, you caught the fish, and the car belongs to you."

I just helped you push the cart and prepare the bait, why should I get half?

Just give me some money for running the errand, two or three yuan will be enough.

"Jianguo, listen to me." Chen Zheng stuffed the money into his hand.

"We set up the stall together and stayed there all day. This money is what we earned together."

If you don't take it, I won't invite you next time.

Zhang Jianguo clutched the stack of money, rubbing the edges between his fingers, and hesitated for a long time.

The moonlight shone on his face, and you could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"Then... then I'll take ten yuan, okay? You can keep the rest, consider it my investment."

"Investment?"

"Yeah, didn't you say you wanted to build a fishpond? I'll invest, count me in. It's not much, just a token."

"Jianguo, are you really interested in investing?"

"really."

"I believe you. If you say raising fish can make money, I'll do it with you."

I may not have much else, but I'm incredibly strong. Digging ponds, carrying water, cutting grass—I'll do whatever you ask me to do.

Chen Zheng looked at him for a while, counted the money on the stone block, and handed him ten yuan.

"Okay. Consider the rest of the money your investment. Once the fishpond makes money, you'll receive dividends according to your share."

Zhang Jianguo grinned, revealing two rows of white teeth, before finally accepting the ten yuan.

Chen Zheng put the money away and then took out another wad of cash from his pocket.

This stack of money was the fifty-six yuan that Zhou Min had given me; it was wrapped in a handkerchief and folded neatly.

He untied his handkerchief, spread out the money, counted out thirty-five yuan and six mao, and handed it to Zhang Jianguo.

"What kind of money is this?" Zhang Jianguo was stunned.

"Take back the 35.6 yuan you paid for Teacher Zhao's medical expenses that day and give it to your mother."

Just as Zhang Jianguo was about to refuse, he heard Chen Zheng say:

"If Teacher Zhao knew that this money was saved up by your mother through her own hard work, he wouldn't be able to sleep at night. This money has to be returned."

Zhang Jianguo took the money, his fingers clenched tightly, his lips moved a few times, as if he wanted to say something but didn't.

"Go back and tell your mother that Teacher Zhao thanked her. Once Teacher Zhao recovers, she will personally visit and express her gratitude."

"Hmm," Zhang Jianguo responded sullenly, stuffing the money into his inner pocket and patting it to make sure it wasn't lost.

The moon rose higher, and the courtyard was brightly lit.

The crickets in the corner were chirping merrily, one long chirp followed by another short one.

Chen Zheng took out the book "Freshwater Fish Farming Technology" that Zhao Deming had given him from his pocket and flipped through it by the moonlight.

The mimeographed text is somewhat blurry, but still legible.

The first chapter describes the site selection and construction of the fishpond.

The water source must be plentiful, of good quality, and have convenient water intake and drainage.

He looked at each item one by one, pondering in his mind whether the low-lying field at home was suitable.

"Ah Zheng, what are you looking at?" Zhang Jianguo came over.

"The book Teacher Zhao gave me is about raising fish."

"Tomorrow, after we come back from selling the fish, let's go to my family's field, measure its dimensions, and calculate how much work it will take to dig a pond."

"Okay. I'll come first thing tomorrow morning."

Before the words were even finished, the person had already disappeared into the darkness at the alley entrance.

Just then, a sound came from the inner room.

Zhang Cuihua got up and went out: "Zhengwa is back? Have you eaten?"

"I ate. I ate at Teacher Zhao's house."

Chen Zheng squatted down, took out the wad of money from his pocket, and handed it to Zhang Cuihua.

"Mom, I made sixty-seven yuan selling fish today. I gave ten yuan to Jianguo. I have fifty-seven yuan left."

Zhang Cuihua paused for a moment, her needlework stopped, and the thread dangled in mid-air.

She took the money, ran her fingers over the bills, then took out a kerosene lamp, lit it, and looked at it.

"Zhengwa, is all of this...is this all yours?" Zhang Cuihua was still a little unsure.

"Mother, it's from our family."

Chen Zheng pushed the money back, "It's for my mother's medicine, and for Chen Feng and Chen Rong's tuition next semester."

Our daily expenses all come from this. We save the rest for raising livestock.

Zhang Cuihua looked at the money in her hand, turned her head away, and wiped the corner of her eye with her sleeve.

She folded the money neatly, wrapped it in a handkerchief, layer by layer.

I wrapped it in several layers, stuffed it into a pocket close to my body, and pressed it down with my hand to make it feel secure.

"Zhengwa, your father is right, you've grown up. From now on, you'll be in charge of this family."

"I'll go boil some water for you to wash your feet. You must be tired after running around all day."

Chen Zheng wanted to say no, but Zhang Cuihua had already gone into the kitchen, ladled water into the pot, and sat in front of the stove to light the fire.

Chen Zheng watched her retreating figure, and his nose tingled with emotion.

I placed the book "Freshwater Fish Farming Techniques" on the table.

The book turned to the page where Zhao Deming had slipped the note inside; a line of text was written on it:

"The stocking density of fish fry should not exceed 800 per acre. Too many fry will result in insufficient dissolved oxygen and make the fish more susceptible to disease."

A small circle was drawn next to it, and the word "important" was written inside the circle.

As Chen Zheng looked at these words, he recalled how Zhao Deming lectured in class.

When he lectures, he likes to circle the important points on the blackboard and write the word "important".

This habit has remained unchanged for many years.