The more ignorant a person is, the greater their thirst for knowledge. Paul Grant, Paul Waters, and Paul Fisher never said it out loud, but they actually valued the opportunity to go to school and learn to read. So regardless of whether Brian Carter was teaching correctly or not, they all sat properly on the boat planks, listening to Brian Carter's lesson without saying an extra word—behaving extremely well. Then Brian Carter gave them a few targeted questions, such as: if one fish sells for three wen, how much would ten fish sell for? What about twenty? Thirty? If among these fish there are both big and small ones, with big ones selling for five wen and small ones for three, and among ten fish there are three big ones and seven small ones, how much money would they make in total?

These simple arithmetic problems left the three of them dizzy and confused. After counting their toes and then their fingers, they got so anxious that all three started counting together, but still couldn’t get it right. But once they used the multiplication table that Brian Carter taught them to work it out, they immediately became happy. Paul Waters stood behind Brian Carter, holding up a tattered sail to shade the teacher from the sun, while Paul Fisher held a rough porcelain bowl, respectfully waiting to hand it over whenever the teacher wanted a drink. Paul Grant wasn’t idle either—she kept washing her headscarf in seawater, and whenever Brian Carter wiped his sweat, she would immediately hand him the scarf. All three were busy, but it didn’t delay their learning at all. The afternoon passed in a flash, and everyone was still huddled on the boat reciting the multiplication table, not even noticing the sun had set in the west.

“Amy Grant, up to mischief again!” Suddenly, a loud shout came from beside the boat, startling the four people on board.

“Grandpa! It’s all your fault, I forgot again…” Amy Grant was reciting the table, and had just managed to get past five and was about to tackle six, but now she forgot everything. Anxious, she grabbed her headscarf and threw it toward Paul Foster’s boat nearby.

“Grandpa, I can write my name now! Uncle Tao taught me—come and see!” Paul Waters and Paul Fisher saw their father and wanted to show off their learning too, but the boat planks couldn’t be lifted, so the two of them jumped up and down in excitement.

“Uncle Foster, Uncle Henry... Grandpa!” Brian Carter turned around and saw that the small boats of Paul Foster, Henry Hayes, and Ethan Brooks had all returned together. The earlier greetings came out smoothly, but calling Grandpa still felt a bit awkward.

“Hehehe, let me see what you wrote. Hmm... Paul Waters, that’s right! 泊... Fisher? Is that the character for shrimp from Australia?” Ethan Brooks heard Brian Carter call him Grandpa and smiled kindly, bringing his boat closer and leaning over the side to look at the characters on the boat plank. Some he recognized, some looked a bit different.

“Where we come from, we also started learning Chinese characters, but later, to make things simpler, we simplified the ones with too many strokes. The younger generation doesn’t learn the original characters anymore, so I don’t know them.” Brian Carter simply explained the principle behind simplified characters. Whether they believed it or not was up to them—after all, there was no exam, so it didn’t matter.

Chapter 11: Advanced Productive Forces

“That makes sense. Anyway, as long as Little Harry and Little Fisher can write their own names, that’s good, that’s good…” Ethan Brooks didn’t dwell on the issue of simplified versus traditional characters. He patted Little Harry and Little Fisher on the head, then turned and nodded to The Grant Family.

“Grandpa! Grandpa! I can count now, all the way to thirty!” Paul Waters still felt the adults hadn’t praised him enough, so he started reciting the multiplication table again.

“Good! Good! That’s the nine-nine table, and you’re reciting it correctly!” Ethan Brooks felt that his godson hadn’t let him down—teaching the kids so much in just half a day, at least he wasn’t eating for nothing.

“Learning that is useless. For us Tanka kids, catching more fish is what makes a good child.” Paul Foster seemed to be at odds with Brian Carter; whatever Brian Carter supported, he opposed. This time, he was the one to dampen the mood, and even Paul Miller and Paul Harris felt a bit embarrassed.

“Amy Grant, let your Grandpa see if my new Tanka kid is a good child. Let’s go check the fish trap!” Brian Carter didn’t dislike Paul Foster. Old people—some are open-minded, some are stubborn, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re good or bad. Rather than argue with him, it was better to show some results. The fish trap had been set all afternoon, so there should be some catch by now, right?

The small boat had a stone anchor. Although there was a current, it didn’t drift far. Brian Carter raised the anchor, and Paul Grant rowed vigorously. Soon, they found the bamboo tube just a few dozen meters away. Brian Carter leaned over the boat to grab the tube and began slowly pulling up the hemp rope attached below. Don’t be fooled—while three nets and a few loops of bamboo braid aren’t heavy on land, they become dead weight in the water. At this point, you can’t just yank it up; if the net gets caught on a rock at the bottom, the hemp rope could snap. This stuff is nowhere near as strong as modern nylon rope.

As bubbles churned up from the seabed, Brian Carter felt the weight in his hands lighten a bit. Good, the fish trap was up—now it was easy. With a few quick pulls, a dark, round cylinder covered in seaweed emerged from the water!

“Splash... splash... splash...” With a series of rapid thuds, Brian Carter finally relaxed. No matter how many fish there were, at least the first haul wasn’t empty. Judging by the sounds, there were more than just a few fish in the trap. What was he waiting for? Pull it up!