Reborn in 1984, fishing and hunting in Jiangnan

Chapter 27

Zhang Cuihua poked her head out of the kitchen, her apron covered in cornmeal, and she was holding a spatula in her hand.

"What are you two whispering about over there? Time to eat!"

Chen Zheng responded and stood up.

He looked at the two turtles in the tank. The larger one had completely calmed down, huddled in the corner of the tank, with only its dark brown shell top showing.

The smaller one was more lively, slowly crawling in the shallow water, its claws scratching the bottom of the tank, making a soft rustling sound.

Soft-shelled turtles have a habit of becoming agitated when they are moved to a new environment. Once they have circled around a few times and confirmed that they cannot escape, they will accept their fate.

Chen Zheng's father once said that turtles are stubborn old men in the water, with a stubborn temper, but they stick to their principles.

If you give it a nest that it can't escape from, it will stop causing trouble.

At the dinner table, Chen Feng was already seated, chopsticks in hand, his eyes fixed on the dishes.

Today, Zhang Cuihua stir-fried a plate of chives and eggs, a bowl of stir-fried shredded pork with pickled vegetables, and a pot of fish head tofu soup.

The fish head was from a silver carp that Chen Zheng caught in Dongwan yesterday. It weighed over three pounds, and the fish head made up almost half of it. It was stewed with tofu until it turned milky white, with a layer of finely chopped scallions floating on top.

"Brother, where's the turtle? Let me see!"

With his mouth stuffed with chives and eggs, Chen Feng's cheeks were bulging out as he mumbled incoherently.

"I'll watch it after I finish eating. Eat yours first." Chen Zheng sat down and picked up his rice bowl.

Old Chen picked up a piece of pickled vegetable and shredded pork with his chopsticks, chewed it a couple of times, and suddenly blurted out:

"Going to the county to sell soft-shelled turtles tomorrow?"

"Hmm. We should act quickly while it's still alive. This thing is resilient, but it loses weight if kept too long."

"Who will they be sold to?"

"Master Qian from Dongfeng Hotel. He told me at the last trade fair that if he has any good products, he can deliver them directly to the hotel, and the price is negotiable."

Chen Laosan nodded and remained silent.

He eats quickly, finishing a bowl of rice in just a few bites, then pushes away his bowl and chopsticks, gets up, and goes to the yard to squat and smoke.

This has been his habit for decades: after finishing his meal, he must squat on the doorstep and smoke a pipe, without fail.

Chen Zheng finished his meal slowly and then helped Zhang Cuihua clear the dishes.

Chen Rong had already taken the slop bucket to feed the chickens.

Chen Feng squatted by the water tank, teasing the turtle with a twig. The big turtle bit the twig, and with a snap, the twig broke, scaring him so much that he fell to the ground.

"Mom! It bit me!" Chen Feng shouted at the top of his lungs.

Zhang Cuihua poked her head out of the kitchen, glanced at it, and laughed: "Who told you to tease it? Serves you right."

If a turtle bites and won't let go, and you tease it with a twig, who else will it bite but you?

Chen Zheng walked over, pulled Chen Feng up, and patted the dirt off his bottom.

He squatted down and looked at the large turtle. It had already spat out half of the branch and was opening its mouth, revealing its fine teeth, as if it hadn't had enough.

"Rongzi, you're coming to the county with me tomorrow," Chen Zheng said, standing up to Chen Rong, who had just returned from the pigsty.

Chen Rong was stunned for a moment: "What?!"

"Okay. Let me show you around so you can deliver goods yourself when I'm not home."

Chen Rong nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips, and turned to go inside.

He walked faster than usual, and even tripped over the threshold when he entered the room, only managing to steady himself by holding onto the door frame.

The next morning, when Chen Zheng got up, Chen Rong was already waiting in the yard.

He took the two turtles out of the water tank and put them into a bamboo basket.

The bamboo basket was specially woven by Chen Laosan; it had a small opening and a large belly, so the turtle couldn't escape once inside. A layer of damp water plants was placed at the bottom of the basket, allowing the turtle to lie comfortably on top without any bumps or knocks.

"Rongzi, the turtle basket can't be covered tightly; it needs to be breathable."

But the opening can't be too big, otherwise it can stick its claws out and struggle to climb out.

Chen Zheng said as he covered the basket with a piece of coarse linen.

Chen Rong squatted down beside him, watching his technique intently.

Cover it with burlap, and tie the four corners to the rim of the basket with thin hemp rope, just the right tightness.

If it's too tight, it won't breathe; if it's too loose, the turtle can push it open.

Zhang Cuihua brought out two bowls of cornmeal porridge from the kitchen and wrapped a few cornbreads in cloth, stuffing them into Chen Zheng's arms.

She glanced at Chen Rong, then at Chen Zheng, her lips moved, but she only said, "Be careful on the road."

The two left the village.

As dawn broke, the clouds in the east were tinged with a pale gold.

In the cornfields on both sides of the road, dewdrops clung to the leaves, glistening in the morning light.

Chen Rong carried a bamboo basket and walked steadily beside Chen Zheng.

Unlike Chen Feng, who was jumping around asking all sorts of questions, he walked quietly, occasionally looking up at the sky.

He looked at the crops by the roadside, then lowered his head again.

When we arrived at the town's bus station, there weren't many people waiting for the bus.

An old man squatted under the bus stop sign, smoking a pipe. Next to him were two chicken coops containing several hens that were clucking.

A young woman was holding her baby, who was asleep in her arms with drool at the corner of his mouth.

There were also two vendors carrying loads of vegetables and radishes, the leaves of which were wilted, probably leftovers from yesterday.

The shuttle bus has arrived.

Chen Zheng let Chen Rong go first, while he followed behind carrying a bamboo basket.

There weren't many people in the car, so he found a seat at the back and placed the bamboo basket at his feet.

Chen Rong sat next to him, his hands on his knees, his back ramrod straight.

The car started moving, swaying and wobbling.

The fields outside the window receded one after another, cornfields, rice paddies, vegetable gardens, in turn.

Occasionally, you can see a few early-rising farmers working in the fields, bending over to hoe the ground, carrying water to irrigate vegetables, or driving oxen to plow the fields.

The oxen walked slowly, and the plow turned over the black, oily soil, turning it over like waves of mud to both sides.

"Rongzi, look at that person." Chen Zheng pointed out the window with his chin.

Chen Rong followed his gaze.

In a paddy field by the roadside, an old man was driving a water buffalo to plow the field.

The water buffalo walked slowly, but the old man wasn't in a hurry. He held the plow with one hand and a bamboo stick in the other, humming a little tune, though it was hard to tell what he was singing.

"That man's method of plowing the fields is different from Old Li's in our village."

Look how deep his plowshare went into the soil; it was two inches deeper than Old Li's.

Turn the soil two inches deep, so the rice roots can grow deep and the harvest will be good.

But this method requires a lot of oxen; ordinary oxen can't pull it.

Look at his water buffalo, its shoulder blade is bulging out in a big way; those are calluses from years of pulling heavy plows.

Chen Rong stared at the water buffalo for a while, then nodded.

The bus arrived in the county town, and the two people got off.

Chen Zheng carried a bamboo basket and walked along East Street toward Dongfeng Hotel.

The county town was much more lively than the town, with people coming and going on the streets and bicycle bells ringing incessantly.

There are breakfast stalls along the roadside, selling fried dough sticks, steamed buns, and soy milk.

Steaming hot, the aroma wafts into your nose.

The Dongfeng Hotel is located in the middle section of Dongda Street. It has a small storefront, but it is kept clean.

A wooden sign hangs at the entrance, with white background and red characters that read "Dongfeng Hotel".

The paint on the signboard was peeling off, but the lettering was still clear.

A young waiter stood at the door, wearing a white apron and holding a rag, wiping the glass door.

"Comrade, is Master Qian here?" Chen Zheng walked up and asked.

The waiter glanced at him, then at the bamboo basket in his hand:

"Change delivery guy? Are you delivering vegetables or fish?"

"He's delivering turtles. Master Qian knows me; my name is Chen Zheng."

The waiter nodded and turned to enter the restaurant.

After a while, Master Qian came out. He was still dressed the same way, in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his two thick forearms.

He had a cigarette between his fingers, and his eyes lit up when he saw Chen Zheng.

"Chen Zheng? You actually came!"

Master Qian put a cigarette in his mouth, walked over, took the bamboo basket from him, and weighed it in his hand. "A turtle? How big?"

"Two. One weighs seven or eight pounds, and the other weighs eleven or twelve pounds."

Master Qian raised an eyebrow, squatted down, put the bamboo basket on the ground, and lifted a corner of the burlap to look inside.

His eyes lit up when he saw the hem of the large turtle's skirt.

He took the cigarette out of his mouth, stubbed it out on the sole of his shoe, stood up, and dusted off his hands.

"Let's go in through the back door."

The two followed Master Qian around to the back door of the restaurant.

The back gate leads to a small courtyard with several baskets of vegetables piled up and several large vats in the corner, presumably for pickling vegetables.

There was a mixed smell in the yard: the smell of cooking oil, pickled vegetables, and fish all mixed together.

It's hard to describe the smell, but it's not unpleasant.

Master Qian placed the bamboo basket on the stone platform in the yard and completely removed the burlap lining.

Two turtles were exposed to the sunlight. The larger turtle sensed the change in light and retracted its head into its shell, leaving only the tip of its nose sticking out.

The little turtle wasn't afraid at all; it stretched its neck and looked around with its beady eyes.

"Good heavens!"

Master Qian squatted down and pressed the edge of the turtle's skirt with his finger.

The hem of the skirt is plump and bouncy; when you press it down, it bounces back perfectly.

He turned the turtle over and looked at its belly. It was yellowish-white, clean, without spots or scars.

He nodded in satisfaction, stood up, and clapped his hands.

"Good quality. This big one has thick skirts and a good color; it's an old soft-shelled turtle. It's perfect for making soup. Name your price."

Chen Zheng thought for a moment and said, "Master Qian, you're an expert. You've seen the quality of this turtle; the skirt is thick, it's uninjured and disease-free, and it's lively and energetic. The larger one is three yuan a pound. The smaller one is two yuan and fifty cents."

Master Qian laughed, took out a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a puff: "You kid, you really dare to ask for a price."

Three yuan a pound, that's about the price in the provincial capital.

"Master Qian, the soft-shelled turtles from the provincial capital were collected from the countryside and changed hands several times. By the time they arrived at the restaurant, they were already wilted."

Look at this one, I just fished it out of the lake this morning, it's still very lively.

Can the soup made by stewing each other taste the same?

Master Qian, a cigarette dangling from his lips, squinted at Chen Zheng for a moment, then smiled. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and tapped the ash on the stone counter: "Alright. Three yuan for the big ones, two yuan and fifty cents for the small ones. Weigh them."

He took out a steelyard from the kitchen; the steelyard was made of mahogany, and the weights were made of copper.

He lifted the large turtle out of the bamboo basket. The turtle stretched its neck out very long, its four legs kicking wildly, and its claws grabbing at the air.

Master Qian was skilled; he held the turtle by the sides of its shell with one hand, and no matter how the turtle stretched its neck, it couldn't bite him.

He hung the turtle on the scale hook, lifted the scale rod, and squinted at the scale indicator.

"Twelve catties and four ounces. That's twelve catties."

Master Qian put the turtle down, then picked up the smaller one. "Seven pounds and six ounces. That's seven and a half pounds."

He took a calculator out of his pocket and pressed a few buttons.

The calculator is about the size of a palm, and the buttons beep when pressed.

"Twelve catties, three yuan a catty, thirty-six yuan. Seven and a half catties, two yuan fifty, eighteen yuan seventy-five cents."

"It's fifty-four dollars and seventy-five cents in total." He turned the calculator around to show Chen Zheng.

Chen Zheng glanced at it and nodded.

Master Qian took out a wad of cash from his pocket, counted out fifty-five yuan, and handed it over:

"Fifty-four yuan and seventy-five cents, here's fifty-five for you, keep the change."

"Hey kid, next time you have good stuff, send it over again."

"Thank you, Master Qian." Chen Zheng took the money, counted it, and put it into his inner pocket.

Master Qian picked up the two turtles and walked towards the kitchen.

After taking a couple of steps, he stopped and turned back to say, "By the way, there's a trade fair in the county next month. It's bigger than the last one, and people from the provincial capital are coming."

If you can get your hands on some good stuff, I'll save you a stall.

Chen Zheng's eyes lit up: "When?"

"It'll be the eighth day of next month, three days. Come see me two days in advance, and I'll make the arrangements for you."

"Okay, thank you, Master Qian."

After the two left the Dongfeng Hotel, Chen Rong remained silent until they had walked a short distance before speaking:

"Brother, it's twelve catties and four ounces. He counted it as twelve catties, which is four ounces short."

Chen Zheng glanced at him and smiled: "You've calculated things quite meticulously."

"Four ounces, one dollar and twenty cents," Chen Rong said.

"I know. But Master Qian gave you a discount of 25 cents and introduced you to the exchange meeting next month. It's not worth it for you to haggle over 4 ounces."

In business, you not only need to be good at accounting, but also at understanding human relationships.

Is it worth it to trade four ounces of soft-shelled turtle for one dollar and twenty cents to buy his stall?

Chen Rong thought for a moment and nodded: "It's worth it."

Chen Zheng patted him on the shoulder: "Remember, when dealing with people, you can't just focus on what's in front of you."

You need to look at the bigger picture. Master Qian is a purchasing agent for Dongfeng Hotel; he has a stall, sales channels, and connections.

If we build a good relationship with him, we won't have to worry about selling our goods in the future.

Chen Zheng carefully put the money away, patted his pocket, and felt at ease.

Fifty-five yuan, plus what I saved from selling fish, I now have almost two hundred yuan in my hands.

In Lutang Village in 1984, this amount would have been enough for a family of five to eat, drink, and live comfortably for half a year, but he knew in his heart that throwing this amount of money into the fishpond would only result in a commotion.

The wages for digging the pond, the bricks and cement, the iron strips for the water pipes, the fish fry feed—all of these cost money.

Lin Xiaoyun's father is right. Having a venue alone is not enough; you need to learn the skills and have sufficient capital.

"Let's go to the pharmacy." Chen Zheng patted Chen Rong on the shoulder.

Chen Rong followed behind, carrying an empty bamboo basket. The two of them crossed East Street and turned into a small alley.

The alley was narrow, with brick walls on both sides, and grass growing on top of the walls, swaying in the wind.

The ground was paved with stone slabs, which had become smooth and shiny from being stepped on over the years.

At the end of the alley was the county pharmaceutical company's storefront. The storefront was small, and behind the glass counter sat an old man wearing reading glasses, looking down at an abacus.

The abacus beads clicked and clacked, and the fingers flew so fast they were almost invisible.

The medicine cabinet behind the counter occupies an entire wall, with countless small drawers, each labeled with the name of the medicine written in neat handwriting.

The air was filled with the smell of Chinese medicine, bittersweet, but it was quite pleasant after a while.

"Master, please prepare the medicine." Chen Zheng took out the prescription from his pocket and handed it over.

The old man took it, adjusted his reading glasses, squinted at it for a while, and nodded.

He stood up, turned around, and opened the drawer of the medicine cabinet, grabbing a handful of this and a pinch of that, his movements swift and efficient.

Each herb was placed on a small square piece of kraft paper, spread out, and piled up into small mountains of herbs.

Chen Zheng recognized a few of the ingredients: dried tangerine peel, atractylodes macrocephala, poria cocos, licorice root, codonopsis pilosula, astragalus membranaceus, but not many others.

I watched as the old man's hands moved between the drawers.

The old man poured the prepared medicines one by one into a large paper bag, then pulled out a piece of rough paper from under the counter, folded it in half, and...

Fold it in half again to form a funnel shape, pour the medicine in, fold the four corners, press with your fingers, and fold it into a square medicine packet.

Wrap the thin hemp rope around three times, tie a slipknot, hook it with your finger, tighten the rope, and secure the medicine packet tightly.

His technique must have been practiced for decades; every movement is just right.

"Six yuan and twenty cents." The old man placed the medicine packet on the counter.

Chen Zheng took out some money from his pocket, counted out seven yuan, and handed it over. The old man took it, examined each bill against the light, put them in his drawer, then took out a small stack of small bills from the drawer, counted a few, and handed them back: "Here's your 80 cents change."

Chen Zheng took the change and put it away.

He picked up the medicine packet and weighed it in his hand. It was quite heavy, enough for his mother to eat for a month.

In his past life, his mother was just too stingy with money. When she had a stomachache, she would drink some hot water and bear it, but in the end, she couldn't bear it anymore and died.

He will never let that happen again in his life.

"Master, I have something to ask you." Chen Zheng didn't leave in a hurry.

The old man looked up and gazed at him from above his reading glasses.

"Which type of Codonopsis pilosula is used in this prescription?"

The old man was taken aback, probably not expecting a country boy to ask such a question.

He took off his reading glasses, held them in his hand, and looked Chen Zheng up and down: "You know about medicine?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to ask my mother what she ate."

The medicine I got from the hospital last time made my mother feel much better; her stomach wasn't bloated anymore, and she had a better appetite.

I think the codonopsis pilosula must have played a role here.

The old man nodded, took a small handful of codonopsis from the medicine cabinet, and placed it on the counter:

"Look. This is Codonopsis pilosula from Shanxi. It replenishes qi, strengthens the spleen and benefits the lungs."

In your mother's prescription, Codonopsis pilosula is the principal ingredient, and it's in the largest quantity. The fact that your mother felt better after taking it means it was the right treatment.

Chen Zheng looked down. The codonopsis root was cut into small pieces, yellowish-white in color, and had a faint sweet smell.

He reached out and pinched off a small piece, smelled it, then put it back: "Master, are there other varieties of Codonopsis pilosula?"

"Yes. The best ones are wild ones, growing deep in the mountains and forests, old ones, and one can sell for several yuan."

Artificially grown ones are cheaper, but their medicinal effects are also weaker.

Your mother's prescription uses planted ingredients, which is sufficient.

If we could get wild ones, the effect would be even better, but they're expensive and most people can't afford them.

Chen Zheng kept these words in mind.

Wild Codonopsis pilosula, deep in the mountains and forests—these words swirled in his mind.

After leaving the pharmacy, the two walked back.

When they passed the supply and marketing cooperative, Chen Zheng stopped and asked Chen Rong to wait outside before going inside.

There weren't many people in the supply and marketing cooperative. The saleswoman behind the counter was a middle-aged woman with curly hair, wearing a floral shirt, and was knitting a sweater with her head down.

Two bamboo needles flew up and down in her hands, while the ball of yarn rolled back and forth on the counter.

Hearing footsteps, she didn't even look up: "What do you want to buy?"

Chen Zheng glanced at the shelves. Brown sugar, white sugar, biscuits, canned goods, malted milk powder, and a few bolts of cloth.

He thought for a moment and said, "Give me two catties of brown sugar, one catty of white sugar, and a can of malted milk powder."

The saleswoman finally looked up and glanced at him, probably surprised that a young man from the countryside would buy malted milk powder. She put the sweater aside, stood up, took the items from the shelf, and placed them on the counter: "Two pounds of brown sugar for one yuan and twenty cents, one pound of white sugar for six mao, and one can of malted milk powder for two yuan and fifty cents. That's four yuan and thirty cents in total."

Chen Zheng took out some money from his pocket, counted out four yuan and three jiao, and handed it over.

The saleswoman took the money, put it in the drawer, and went back to knitting. The bamboo needles clicked together.

Chen Zheng packed the items into a cloth bag and left the supply and marketing cooperative.

Chen Rong saw the cloth bag in his hand and asked, "Brother, what are you buying these for?"