Chapter 363: Winter Fishing

After returning to the village, Zhou Daming and Zhou Darong reported the situation to the old Party Secretary.

After listening, the old Party Secretary thought for a moment and said, “Daming, take me there to have a look.”

He needed to see it with his own eyes before making a decision—after all, hearing is nothing compared to seeing.

Zhou Daming nodded in understanding and led the way, with Zhou Darong following close behind.

All three of them jogged the whole way, trying to make it before nightfall.

One could only say that people these days were truly fit. They ran from the village to the back mountain without even flushing or panting, as if that stretch of road hadn’t even been run.

If this were in later generations, this level of fitness would already surpass most people. Some college students, for instance, nearly pass out after just 400 meters.

It just goes to show how poor physical condition has become.

When they arrived at the reservoir behind the mountain, the old Party Secretary asked directly, “Where did you see the school of fish?”

“Old Secretary, I saw them a bit further ahead,” Zhou Darong said while pointing in that direction.

The old Party Secretary walked to where Zhou Darong had pointed and began carefully surveying the surroundings to see if he could spot the fish.

Before long, he did spot them.

The old Party Secretary was overjoyed. If they could catch all the fish in one haul, it would be a significant harvest. Even if they couldn’t eat that many, they could sell them to Zhou Yimin, which would bring in income for the village—killing two birds with one stone.

So he decided to notify the villagers to conduct a winter fishing event the next day.

Third Aunt came over to Zhou Yimin’s house and found him busy preparing ingredients. She rushed over to help.

“Third Aunt, no need to help. Just sit and relax, I’ve got this.”

Third Aunt quickly replied, “No way. I already feel bad enough coming to eat for free—how could I not help even a little?”

Unable to persuade her otherwise, Zhou Yimin let her help with the prep.

She took over from him and started washing vegetables, surprised to find he was using hot water—such extravagance! In her own home, this kind of thing wouldn’t even be considered.

Hot water had to be boiled. Using cold water was perfectly fine, even if it was a bit painful and cold while washing—just endure it and move on.

Of course, she couldn’t say that out loud. Only Zhou Yimin was “wasteful” enough to do this in the entire village. Other families certainly wouldn’t be willing.

Zhou Yimin started stir-frying. It was nice having someone help prep: the vegetables were washed, the meat already cut.

Third Aunt then began washing plates. When Zhou Yimin saw that the water had gone cold, he said, “Third Aunt, the water’s cold—add some hot water!”

“No need, cold water is fine,” she replied, a bit reluctant.

Even if it wasn’t her own firewood being used, she was still unwilling. After all, it was her husband who’d chopped that firewood from the mountain—it felt like a waste.

Zhou Yimin understood. It was hard to change habits developed over decades, so he said no more and focused on cooking.

While he was still at the stove, Zhou Xuqian arrived at the house with Qianqian in his arms and three kids in tow.

“Uncle!”

The old man nodded but didn’t get up, continuing to sit in his rocking chair.

Zhou Xuqian wasn’t surprised by this at all—he was already used to the old man’s demeanor.

Zhou Yimin’s grandmother saw Zhou Xuqian fumbling with Qianqian and immediately snatched her up into her own arms.

“Qianqian, let Grandma hold you, alright?”

Watching Qianqian giggle, she beamed with joy.

Soon, Third Aunt came out with fragrant, steaming dishes.

Laifu and the other two immediately sat down at the table when they caught the scent, ready to pounce on the food as if afraid it would be gone if they were a second too late.

“What are you sitting there for? Go wash your hands first,” Third Aunt chided.

The three of them quickly ran off to wash up.

Zhou Yimin finished cooking the last dish and brought it out.

Once everyone was seated, the old man finally spoke: “Let’s eat.”

After speaking, he slowly picked up a bottle of liquor from the floor and poured himself half a small cup—this was all he could drink each day.

Zhou Xuqian kept eyeing the liquor, but the old man pretended not to notice. He didn’t even have enough for himself, let alone to share.

Seeing this, Zhou Yimin took the bottle from his hand and poured Zhou Xuqian a full cup.

The old man immediately protested, “Yimin, that’s enough. Don’t pour that much!”

Everyone tried hard not to laugh. The old man was usually so stern—this reaction was such a stark contrast that it amused them all.

The next morning, Zhou Yimin got up early. If it weren’t for the winter fishing today, he wouldn’t have woken up so early—normally he’d still be sleeping at this hour.

Without fail, he opened up the store and instantly grabbed up 100 jin of fish bait, 100 white-cut chickens, 100 jin of beef, and 100 jin of feed.

Fish bait too? Zhou Yimin was speechless.

Also, white-cut chicken wasn’t popular in the north—people probably wouldn’t like it.

As for the feed, that was alright. It could be used for raising pigs or chickens.

Sometimes Zhou Yimin wondered if he should start selling feed.

At this time, the domestic feed industry was still in its infancy. Even into the 1970s, most feed was homemade by farmers. Nationwide, only a few state-owned enterprises were engaged in simple feed processing. In 1978, total feed output across the country was just over a million tons. The industry was just beginning, with very few companies, low output, and slow development.

But feed was vital for livestock farming.

To avoid missing this “grand” event, Zhou Yimin didn’t even eat breakfast and rushed off to the reservoir.

If he hadn’t been afraid of being discovered, he would’ve bought some big meat buns from the store to eat along the way.

After more than ten minutes, he finally arrived, thinking he was already early—but he was still late.

The surface of the frozen reservoir was already crowded. These folks had arrived before dawn. Since no one owned a clock, they came early to make sure they didn’t miss the gathering.

Some people were already preparing, checking their rarely-used fishing nets for holes. If any were found, they had to be patched immediately, or else the fish would escape during the haul.

Catching them later would be much harder.

Most of these delicate tasks were done by women, but the men weren’t idle either—they went to scout for fish.

After all, it was unrealistic to net the entire reservoir—there weren’t nets that large.

Even if there were, they didn’t have enough people to pull such a net. Just imagining the strength required was daunting.

(End of Chapter)