Chapter 221: Training a Little Fisherman from a Young Age

On the twenty-fifth day of the twelfth lunar month, Father Lin slaughtered the pig he had raised for a year. Early in the morning, a group of people came over to help.

In those days, the countryside was still densely populated, and the New Year was a truly festive occasion.

Naturally, Lin Heng was among the group helping with the slaughter. He didn’t talk much, but the villagers were all warm and friendly, chatting and laughing together.

Lin Heng’s eldest and third uncles were also there. His youngest aunt’s husband couldn’t make it because they were slaughtering a pig at their place as well.

In the countryside, pig slaughtering had to be done on an auspicious day, and today was one of those days. Several families in the village were doing it, and the three or four local butchers were all fully occupied.

“Is that an electric heater? Does it really work? How much did it cost?”

Lu Honghai, Lin Heng’s eldest uncle, saw Lin Heng using an electric heater to boil water directly in a large wooden barrel and asked curiously.

“Not expensive, just two yuan,” Lin Heng replied with a smile.

“Two yuan? That’s not cheap! But it sure looks handy. I’ll get one too.”

Lu Honghai chuckled.

“I’ll bring one back for you next time,” Lin Heng said with a grin.

Meanwhile, the butcher saw that the water had boiled and called someone to fetch the pig from the back hill.

With heart-wrenching squeals, the family’s New Year pig was carried to the chopping board. The butcher, with practiced skill, plunged his knife straight into the main artery.

They caught the pig’s blood in a basin while Lin Heng and the others held it down tightly. The younger children had their eyes covered by adults, not allowed to watch. Only a few older kids stood at the courtyard gate, peeking in with curiosity.

Once the blood was drained, the pig was lifted into the large wooden barrel. Scalding water was poured over it, and a stone hammer made of volcanic rock was used to gently knock off the bristles.

In less than half an hour, a plump, pale-white pig lay neatly on the barrel, belly down with legs splayed.

They slit the pig’s back and placed a wine cup inside, filled it with rice, burned some paper money, and lit a string of firecrackers. This was both an offering to the gods and ancestors, and a celebration of a bountiful harvest, hoping that next year’s pig would eat well, grow strong, and stay healthy.

Next came the weighing. The pig Mother Lin had fed for a year was no small one—over 230 jin.

After weighing, it was time for everyone’s favorite part: the butchering. With the butcher’s expert hands, the fat pig was quickly carved into neat portions.

People of all ages gathered around in a circle, watching the process. From time to time, they tossed in a few compliments and flattery.

In those days, slaughtering the New Year pig was a major event for the whole village. It was one of the few days when people could eat their fill of meat.

Everyone was genuinely happy during the slaughter, eager to lend a hand.

Once the pig was butchered, part of the meat was kept fresh for the New Year, while the rest was salted and left to marinate overnight. The next day, it would be smoked over the fire to make cured meat. Typically, this would be the family’s meat supply for the entire year.

In rural households, there were usually at least five people. With only one pig a year, and a good chunk eaten during the New Year festivities, the remaining cured meat would amount to just 160 or 170 jin.

That was all the meat five or six people would have for the whole year—not much at all.

And this was considered a well-off family. Some households didn’t have enough grain to feed a pig in one year and had to raise it for two. That meat was even more precious.

Many families raised a pig over two years. After all, people themselves were eating cornmeal—what the pigs got was even less nutritious.

“Time to eat!”

With a loud call, everyone headed into the house, ready for the feast.

The Lin family had invited quite a few people that day. Including their own family, there were twenty-three in total.

They set up two tables. One for the men who liked to drink, and another for the women and children. In the center of both tables was a large platter of stir-fried lean pork with pickled chili.

Lin Heng naturally sat at the adults’ table. After a couple of sips of wine, he focused on the meat—just like everyone else.

Fresh pork really did taste better than cured meat. It was fragrant and chewy. In the past, this was the day he looked forward to the most.

But this year, he wasn’t as excited. He just thought it tasted good.

After two cups of wine, Lin Heng put down his glass. The butcher beside him chuckled and said, “Boss Lin, have a couple more! You’ve barely had any. Don’t kill the mood!”

“I’ve had enough. My dad’s still drinking with you,” Lin Heng replied, waving his hand.

“What’s this? Your dad’s drinking and you’re not?”

The man was persistent, holding up the wine pot and trying to pour Lin Heng another cup.

“I’m eating now,” Lin Heng said with a smile and got up to eat.

He drank on his own terms. Even if a celestial immortal came to persuade him, if he didn’t want to drink, he wouldn’t.

The butcher looked a bit embarrassed and could only shake his head. “Young folks these days, can’t even hold a conversation with us old timers.”

Then he poured wine for the others. Father Lin sat beside him, explaining that Lin Heng couldn’t hold his liquor and so on.

Everyone laughed and drank merrily. No one seemed to mind.

As Lin Heng was eating, Mother Lin brought out another dish—steamed meat made from cornmeal and slices of fatty pork. It was a traditional favorite among the older generation in the countryside. But for Lin Heng, it was too greasy. He had no appetite for it at all.

After breakfast, everyone rested for a bit, then headed over to Lin Yue’s house to slaughter his pig. Many people took the chance to visit Lin Heng’s home and check out the three-wheeled motorcycle he had bought. They admired it with envy as they looked it over.

Lin Heng wasn’t home. He was out strolling along the road with Xiao Xia. Xiulan waited until the visitors had left, then quickly locked the door.

By the time the pig at Lin Yue’s house was slaughtered, it was already past 2 p.m. The butcher left in a hurry—he still had another pig to kill that day.

“Which couplet do you think is better?”

In the study, Lin Heng asked Xiulan as he looked over a collection of Spring Festival couplets.

With the pig slaughtered and nothing else to do, the two of them had cut red paper and started writing couplets.

He had already bought a calligraphy brush, inkstone, and ink stick during his last trip to the city.

Xiulan wore a red cotton jacket with plum blossoms printed on it. Her hair was tied into a ponytail that draped over her left shoulder. She sat on a newly made official’s hat chair beside Lin Heng, grinding ink for him.

Hearing his question, she looked up at the book of couplets he had opened. It was filled with all sorts of Spring Festival couplets.

Lin Heng didn’t really care which ones they used. He left the choice to her.

Their house had four gates, so they needed four couplets. The characters weren’t obscure—Xiulan could read them all.

“These four,” she said, picking four seven-character couplets that sounded simple and pleasant.

Lin Heng folded the red paper into seven sections and, after a moment of thought, began writing. The first couplet was for the main gate of the front yard.

The upper line: “Blessings fill the household, spring warmth abounds.”

The lower line: “Clear source flows far, the new year shines.”

The horizontal scroll: “Welcoming the New Spring.”

As Lin Heng wrote, Xiao Xia came over to watch, full of curiosity. With both his wife and daughter watching, Lin Heng’s hand trembled a bit. But thanks to his long practice in regular script, the writing still came out smooth and steady.

“It’s beautiful. Very neat,” Xiulan praised as soon as he finished.

She wasn’t just flattering him. Compared to the village’s usual couplet writers like the Village Party Secretary, Lin Heng’s calligraphy was just as good—neat and elegant.

Xiao Xia didn’t fully understand, but she joined the praise team anyway: “Pretty! Really pretty!”

Lin Heng laughed heartily, his confidence boosted. He went on to finish the remaining three couplets in one go. After laying them out on the floor to dry, he was about to start writing some “Fu” characters when he heard his father and elder brother calling from outside.

“I’ll get the door,” Xiulan said, stopping her ink grinding and heading out.

A moment later, Lin Heng saw his father and elder brother walk in carrying meat.

Xiulan explained from the side, “I told them we already had meat, but Dad and Elder Brother insisted on bringing some over.”

“Yours have all been made into cured meat. This one’s fresh. Besides, if you don’t eat it, your mom, Caiyun, and I can’t finish it all by ourselves,” Father Lin said with a smile.

“You said it yourself, there’s no need to be polite between us,” Lin Yue replied, also smiling.

Each of them took two slabs of pork, each weighing over ten jin. Two slabs came close to thirty jin.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be polite,” Lin Heng said with a grin. There was no need for formalities among family, so he accepted the meat without hesitation.

Seeing Lin Heng’s attitude, both his elder brother and father were clearly pleased.

Lin Yue noticed the couplets Lin Heng had hung and asked in surprise, “Little brother, did you write these?”

Lin Heng looked a bit proud. “Of course. The ink’s not even dry yet. If you want, I can write a few for you too.”

“Of course we want them! These couplets are really well done. Your calligraphy is beautiful.”

“It’s almost on par with the Village Party Secretary’s handwriting,” Father Lin added approvingly.

Lin Heng let them pick a few couplets from the collection, then he and Xiulan cut the red paper. Xiulan ground the ink while Lin Heng started writing. Father Lin and Lin Yue watched from a distance. In no time, one set of couplets was finished.

“Not bad at all.”

“Looks great!”

Lin Yue and Father Lin praised him while helping to hang the couplets up to dry.

Soon, Lin Heng had finished writing all the couplets, and even wrote a few “Fu” characters.

As they sat around the brazier warming themselves, Father Lin suggested they have the reunion dinner at the old house. Lin Heng and his elder brother agreed without hesitation.

Lin Heng even said directly, “How about this, Dad? Why don’t you just spend the New Year with us? Eat here every day and sleep at the old house.”

“Yeah, that way it’s easier to host guests too,” Xiulan added with a smile.

Lin Yue shook his head. “That won’t do. Let’s each host a meal at our own place.”

Seeing both sons vying to have him over, Father Lin was overjoyed, though he kept a straight face and shook his head. “In that case, why don’t you both just come over here to eat?”

After a pause, he chuckled and added, “We’ll talk about it later. Doesn’t matter where we eat, as long as we eat. But tonight, we’re still eating at the old house. Your mom’s already cooked.”

“Sounds good,” Lin Heng agreed right away.

After collecting the dried couplets and feeding the livestock and pets at home, Lin Heng took Xiao Xia and Xiulan to the old house for dinner.

The next day, on the 26th day of the twelfth lunar month, Lin Heng drove the Sidecar Motorcycle into town with Xiulan and Xiao Xia.

It was the second-to-last market day of the year, and the streets were packed. People were shoulder to shoulder, and all you could see was a sea of heads.

Lin Heng parked the motorcycle in front of the shop. Xiao Xia asked Wang Zhou to keep an eye on it, then went shopping with Xiulan.

Today’s main purchases were a pig’s head, large and small intestines, and a pig stomach. There were also vendors selling lamb and beef, so they bought a bit of that too. Finally, they picked up some fruit and candy. Everything else had already been bought earlier.

As for firecrackers and fireworks, their shop had plenty in stock, so no need to buy more.

After shopping, it was only ten o’clock. Lin Heng had anticipated this and brought along his fishing rod.

He took Xiulan and Xiao Xia to the riverbank to fish. The sun was out for once, and it was pleasantly warm by the river. The grass on the winter riverbed was dry and yellow.

“Can you really catch anything here?” Xiulan asked, touching the water with some doubt.

“Of course,” Lin Heng replied confidently. “I’ll set everything up. You just need to cast and reel in.”

He took out his homemade fermented bait, which was quite costly—made with honey, baijiu, sugar, and other ingredients. Xiulan often joked that the fish ate better than people.

Good thing it was Xiulan with him. If his mom saw him wasting ingredients like this, she’d probably beat him.

Xiulan nodded. If Lin Heng wanted to fish, she’d keep him company. But she didn’t plan to fish herself. She pointed at Xiao Xia. “You fish. I’ll watch Xiao Xia. The water here is deep.”

Lin Heng didn’t insist. He baited the spot with the fermented mix and attached worms to two purple bamboo rods, casting them into the water.

While waiting for the fish to gather, the three of them sat on a large black rock by the river, soaking up the sun. After about half an hour, Lin Heng began fishing, while Xiulan sat with Xiao Xia and watched.

Too bad there weren’t many fishermen around. If there were, they’d be green with envy—having your wife accompany you fishing was practically a fantasy.

But the fish weren’t cooperating today. Lin Heng fished for half an hour without a single bite.

“I’ll try a different spot,” he said.

He had anticipated this and had prepared three baited spots.

At the second spot, it didn’t take long before he got a nibble. A small crucian carp was quickly reeled in.

“See? Told you we’d catch something,” Lin Heng said with a grin.

“Not bad, but it’s smaller than the one you caught last time,” Xiulan said as she brought over the bucket and placed the fish inside for Xiao Xia to see.

“Little fishy!” Xiao Xia said excitedly, teasing the fish in the bucket with a reed.

“There’ll be bigger ones soon,” Lin Heng said confidently. In these times, fishing was as easy as having hands.

But over the next half hour, he only caught six small crucian carp, each about two liang, and began to doubt himself.

Still, he didn’t mind. Seeing Xiulan getting bored, he smiled and said, “Honey, why don’t you give it a try?”

“You go ahead. I’m collecting stones,” Xiulan replied, showing him a smooth little pebble in her hand.

Lin Heng pulled her over and said with a smile, “Come on, give it a try. I’m tired.”

With Lin Heng coaxing her, Xiulan had no choice but to take the rod and try out this unfamiliar activity.

“Daddy, I want to fish too!” Xiao Xia cried, seeing her mom join in. She clung to Lin Heng, acting cute.

“Alright, alright. You can fish too, but don’t go near the water.”

Lin Heng handed her the other purple bamboo rod.

“Okay!” Xiao Xia nodded solemnly, her eyes fixed on the water.

Lin Heng replaced the bait on both their hooks and stood by to guide them.

After about three minutes, Xiulan’s line hadn’t moved, but Xiao Xia’s had been pulled deep into the water.

“Fish on, Xiao Xia!” Lin Heng called out, grabbing her hand to help set the hook.

“Fish! Big fishy!” Xiao Xia shouted excitedly, running backward while lifting the rod. Soon, a small crucian carp flopped out of the water.

Lin Heng removed the fish from the line. Xiao Xia stared at it for a while, then urged him, “Daddy, more fishing!”

The little angler had already fallen in love with the sport, completely fascinated by the tiny fish.

(End of Chapter)

— Translator’s Notes —

• twelfth lunar month: Refers to the last month of the Chinese lunar calendar, typically falling in January or February of the Gregorian calendar. This period leads up to the Chinese New Year, when families traditionally prepare for celebrations.

• auspicious day: A day considered lucky or favorable according to traditional Chinese beliefs, often chosen for important events based on the lunar calendar to ensure good fortune.

• burned some paper money: Refers to joss paper or spirit money, which is burned as an offering to ancestors or deities in traditional Chinese folk religion, believing it provides resources for the afterlife.

• lit a string of firecrackers: Firecrackers are traditionally used during Chinese celebrations to ward off evil spirits and bring good luck, especially during New Year festivities.

• plum blossoms: Plum blossoms are a traditional Chinese symbol of resilience and perseverance as they bloom in winter, often representing hope and new beginnings.

• official’s hat chair: A traditional Chinese chair style named for its resemblance to an official’s hat, typically made of wood with a distinctive curved back.

• red paper: Red is considered an auspicious color in Chinese culture, symbolizing happiness, prosperity, and good fortune. It’s used extensively during New Year celebrations.

• “Fu” characters: The Chinese character 福 (fú) meaning ‘good fortune’ or ‘happiness.’ It’s traditionally displayed upside down during New Year as the phrase ‘福倒了’ sounds like ‘福到了,’ meaning ‘good fortune has arrived.’

• brazier: A traditional heating device consisting of a metal container holding burning coal or charcoal, commonly used for warmth in rural Chinese households during winter.

• jin: A traditional Chinese unit of weight, approximately equal to 500 grams or 1.1 pounds.

• pig’s head, large and small intestines, and a pig stomach: These are traditional Chinese New Year foods. Using all parts of the pig reflects the cultural value of waste-not-want-not, and these items are considered delicacies in traditional cuisine.