“Good kid, with this cage, you’ll be able to get married soon!” Henry Hayes may have just met Brian Carter, but he’s a warm-hearted person and has always supported Brian Carter’s willingness to innovate. Now, with over a hundred jin of fish, shrimp, and crabs as proof of his judgment, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“This isn’t just mine—the net belongs to everyone, and so do the fish and shrimp. We’ll split them up when we get back. Amy Grant, let’s set sail!” Brian Carter wasn’t being modest, but he wasn’t arrogant either. He had spent two lifetimes practicing how to bind others to himself through shared interests, and he was quite skilled at it. Giving others hope at the right time earns trust for yourself. Trust may seem useless in daily life, but at critical moments, it’s more valuable than gold—money can’t buy it, and you have to deliberately accumulate it over time.

“Grandpa, brother, let’s set sail!” Paul Grant happily hid behind the tattered sail, turned her back to change out of her wet clothes, and put on Brian Carter’s men’s shirt. The loose shirt billowed as she grabbed the wooden oar and rowed with extra enthusiasm. The power of spirit is limitless—her little boat took the lead, even her brother couldn’t catch up. Of course, Brian Carter was also good at handling the sail; with the wind at his back, he could make that ragged cloth work wonders.

On the second day after crossing into the Song Dynasty, Brian Carter found his place and gained the recognition of the people of this era. This result made Brian Carter quite pleased. No matter how many people recognized him, at least it showed that his life skills and social skills had improved—he hadn’t crossed over three times in vain, and each time he’d made progress. Over a hundred jin of fish divided among three families wasn’t much for each, but everyone was happy. The more primitive the society, the more they valued fair distribution—even a single fish could warm the heart.

The catch was hauled in by Brian Carter—this was the consensus among the three families. No matter how modest Brian Carter was, even Paul Grant, who helped make the fish trap, didn’t try to claim the credit. In their eyes, Brian Carter was an educated man, so it was only natural he came up with such a good idea—no one else could take that away. Since the catch was considered his, Brian Carter had the right to distribute it, so he started sharing the benefits. These fish weren’t a gift—they were deserved!

What does “deserved” mean? Shares! Providing a fishing net meant two shares; helping make the fish trap earned one share; coming up with the idea got the biggest share—three shares. Thus, a small cooperative was formed. The Grant family got 25% of the shares for providing a net and labor; the Henry family got 25% for the same; the Brooks family got 50% for providing a net and Brian Carter’s expertise.

No one knew what “shares” or “cooperatives” or “joint-stock companies” were, but everyone gave Brian Carter a thumbs up for this method of distribution—one word: fair! Contributing materials, labor, or ideas all brought benefits. No one felt shortchanged, and no one felt exploited. This was a good way!

As the major shareholder, Brian Carter took a portion of his catch and had Paul Grant and several sisters-in-law and nephews clean it up, so they could have rice and seafood stew again that night. There wasn’t much rice left, but that was fine—tomorrow, Ethan Brooks would row a small boat up the Ningyuan River to Yacheng Town a few li away to trade for more rice. Everyone could see that Brian Carter was a foodie and couldn’t get used to eating taro. Now that they had a catch, eating rice every day was no big deal.

Of course, Paul Foster was still the one objecting—not to Brian Carter himself, but to his ways and extravagance. The old man was conservative and disliked change, so he disapproved of Brian Carter. But it wasn’t really opposition; on the contrary, he thought he was looking out for Brian Carter: eat less rice, have fewer seafood stews, don’t trade the seafood for new cloth from the Li people, save up and get your own boat sooner, and then you can marry Paul Grant. Among the Tanka people, a man without his own boat was still considered a “kid”—meaning someone who lived off his parents and wasn’t respected.

The Tanka people liked to drink. Living on the water year-round, the elderly often suffered from arthritis and similar ailments. To ward off the damp, they drank their own homemade medicinal wine, which included several kinds of seafood. It was said that drinking a little every day could dispel dampness and even boost virility.

On this issue, Brian Carter was very careful—he didn’t want to end up with joints swollen like steamed buns and in pain even when still. He’d have to kill himself if it came to that—he couldn’t stand it! For now, he couldn’t solve the housing problem, and even if he had his own boat in the future, it wouldn’t help. He’d asked Ethan Brooks and Paul Foster if he could live on shore, and their answer surprised him—they said yes!

The Tanka people lived on the water year-round, but they also had their own houses—they just didn’t go back often. The houses were built on the beach, a bit like Dai-style stilt houses, with bamboo supports underneath, wooden planks on top, and bamboo and leaves covering the sides and roof. When the tide was high, the sea was just over a meter below the floorboards; when the tide was out, the house sat on the sand, and you had to climb a ladder to get in and out.