Chapter 13: Selling Fish Again

Grandmother said, “My dear boy, how could we drink fish soup every day? Don’t waste the little oil we have. Put the three fish in the water jar; they’ll stay alive till tomorrow. Then take all three to sell, and we’ll get a bit more money.”

Xiao Weiguo had no choice but to eat the scratchy corn porridge that night, along with sorghum and wild vegetable cakes, using pickled vegetables as a side.

At dinner, Grandfather spoke to Xiao Weiguo, “You’re looking much better now. Rest one more day tomorrow, but the day after, you’ll have to go to work.”

Thinking of the hardships of labor, Xiao Weiguo felt a deep sigh in his heart. “Understood, Grandpa,” he replied.

Early the next morning, before dawn, Xiao Weiguo got up, washed, and took the three fish, heading toward the town.

This time, the hemp rope bag was packed full; he’d emptied all the grain sacks from Grandpa’s house so he wouldn’t run out of containers.

Xiao Weiguo thought to himself that he really needed a watch—he never knew what time it was. During the day, he could estimate by the sun, but at night, he was completely at a loss.

So, under the night sky, he walked and paused along the way. By the time he reached town, the sky was just beginning to lighten.

He was exhausted and hungry, feeling that if a cow walked by, he could devour it whole.

The burning sensation in his stomach was something he’d never experienced in his previous life.

He decided to head toward the breakfast stall. “I still have a few coins left. No need to rush selling the fish; let’s see if the breakfast shop has anything filling that doesn’t require ration tickets.”

Arriving at the breakfast stall—really just an open-air stand—he saw a tall, middle-aged cook greeting customers. The sign read: Steamed buns, fried dough sticks, fried cakes, wontons, red bean porridge.

Xiao Weiguo went over and asked, “Uncle, is there anything that doesn’t need ration tickets? I left in a hurry today and forgot to bring mine.”

“If you don’t have tickets, then only the red bean porridge is available—two cents a bowl. Do you want some?” the cook replied.

“What about the others? How much do they cost? Next time I’ll bring ration tickets, but today, give me two bowls of porridge,” Xiao Weiguo said, feeling hungrier by the moment, and handed over a dime.

“Fried cakes are three cents plus a ration ticket per piece; fried dough sticks are two cents and a ticket; meat buns are seven cents and a ticket,” the cook explained, seeing that there weren’t many people around. He counted out six cents and handed them to Xiao Weiguo. “Just sit over there and wait, young man.”

In no time, two bowls of porridge were served. The red bean porridge glowed warmly; at the bottom were soft, mushy rice and red beans. Hungry as he was, Xiao Weiguo blew on it and slurped it down along the rim of the bowl.

It was sweet and tasty. Before long, he’d finished both bowls, feeling full enough from the porridge.

“Thanks, Uncle. I’ll try your cooking next time,” Xiao Weiguo said, heading to the fish stall.

At the fish stall outside the supply and marketing cooperative, he saw Lu Dayou from afar, busy buying and selling fish.

It seemed morning business was better; everyone wanted fresh fish, and sellers took advantage of this time.

Like last time, Xiao Weiguo found a porter nearby and asked him to fetch the goods from the little grove, though this one wasn’t the same porter as before.

It was worth noting that every job in the market—porters, bicycle repair shops, breakfast stalls, sanitation workers, even bathhouse attendants—were all official employees. Their daily earnings were handed in, and they received monthly wages.

Their supervising unit was likely the neighborhood committee.

Talking as they worked, Xiao Weiguo and the porter hauled several large bags of fish toward the stall.

Lu Dayou had just finished a busy spell and came to the door to help unload.

All told, there were about a hundred pounds of fish. If it were grain, an adult could carry it easily, but fish had to be divided into several bags.

“Wow, young man, impressive! Which river did you fish from nearby? Last time was plenty, and this time, even more,” Lu Dayou said to Xiao Weiguo.

“I remember—the little Qu River near the Xiao family village doesn’t have this much fish,” he added.

“Uncle Lu, I was just lucky. After this trip, there won’t be any more,” Xiao Weiguo replied.

Hearing Lu Dayou’s comments, Xiao Weiguo became alert. He realized he’d crossed the line and decided he couldn’t sell fish here again.

“Alright, let’s weigh it,” Lu Dayou said. “By the way, you got lucky—today’s purchase price is thirteen cents a pound.”

“That’s great!” Xiao Weiguo was glad to hear the price had gone up.

A penny more per pound meant ten pounds would earn an extra dime; a hundred pounds, an extra yuan.

Well, it wasn’t much after all.

“One hundred three pounds and five ounces—check the scale, young man. Does it look right to you?” Lu Dayou asked.

“No problem,” Xiao Weiguo replied, delighted at the total.

“Let’s do the math. One hundred three pounds and five ounces at thirteen cents per pound comes to thirteen yuan, forty-five cents,” Lu Dayou said, counting out the money and handing it to Xiao Weiguo.

“Do you need proof, young man?”

“Proof? What kind of proof?” Xiao Weiguo asked, surprised, remembering his earlier caution. “No, no need.”

“No rush. Since you sold a lot of fish, I worry you might have trouble explaining where your money came from. I can give you a receipt if you want, to show it was earned from selling fish. But it’s fine if you don’t want it,” Lu Dayou explained.

“It’s nothing, just over ten yuan. That’s plenty,” Xiao Weiguo replied.

Actually, his sense of money was still colored by his previous life. In this era, a city worker’s monthly wage was only twenty or thirty yuan—enough for a family of six or seven to live on for a month. Ten yuan was a significant sum.

Roughly converted, ten yuan was equivalent to a couple thousand in his past life.

Xiao Weiguo put the money in his trouser pocket, secretly transferring it to the altar in his space.

He turned and said goodbye to Lu Dayou. “Uncle Lu, I’ll be off now.”

Lu Dayou waved. “Come again next time, young man!”

After Xiao Weiguo left, Lu Dayou smiled broadly and took another sixty cents from his pocket, slipping it into his jacket with satisfaction.

Walking out of the shop and along the town’s street, Xiao Weiguo had no intention of entering the supply and marketing cooperative. With only money and no ration tickets, everything was expensive and most things were unavailable.

Just then, Xiao Weiguo noticed several groups of people coming from one direction. Though it was early morning, they covered half their faces with cloth, and their baskets were tightly sealed.

As they moved, everyone looked around furtively, giving off a suspicious air.