Although it was just another daily battle between Seventh Uncle and Seventh Aunt, that gleaming fish spear was truly intimidating.

Seventh Aunt was short and thin, and after putting away the fish spear, she leaned on it and said, “Dave, you’re here.” She pointed at Seventh Uncle, almost jumping with anger: “You be the judge—is it reasonable to drink so early in the morning? How can anyone stay sober for the rest of the day?”

Ryan Sullivan craned his neck and retorted, “How can I have the energy to work without a drink? You just won’t admit you’re ignorant!”

Only then did David Sullivan notice that at the kitchen door on the west side of the yard, a porcelain gourd-shaped wine bottle had been smashed, with a brown wine box beside it. From his angle, he could just make out the famous quote on the box.

“Last night the wind was sparse and the rain fierce, a deep sleep could not dispel the lingering wine…”

Qingzhao Liquor.

“Seventh Uncle, didn’t you say we’d go fishing yesterday?” David Sullivan didn’t bother trying to mediate—the couple argued all the time, and it was pointless to intervene. “Come on, grab two nets, let’s go together!”

He then said to the little boy, “Nate, go cheer up your mom! I’ll catch some fish for you to eat later!”

“Not interesting!” Nate munched on peanuts as he walked into the main room. “They didn’t even start fighting…”

Ryan Sullivan tossed aside the shovel, called for David Sullivan, and together they grabbed two fishing nets and a few homemade water bags, heading straight for the northern riverbank.

They chose the section of river that had nearly breached the night before.

Once on the triangular dam, Ryan Sullivan, who had years of experience fishing and catching rabbits, pointed to the gentle slope on the north side: “The current is slow here—there’s definitely fish! If the net comes up empty, just wait a bit before casting again. I’ll head north, you stay here.”

David Sullivan glanced down and saw that the water level had clearly dropped. Countless sandbags were piled into a slope on the north side, completely obscuring the iron chicken cages inside.

The riverbank was basically empty; the lights and cables had probably been taken back by Uncle Carter, leaving only two long bamboo poles.

There were quite a few water hyacinths in the gentle area. After Ryan Sullivan went north, David Sullivan took a bamboo pole and used it to push the hyacinths away. As soon as the pole moved in the water, something splashed out—it looked like either a carp or a grass carp, and it was a good size.

Maybe there were too many leeches on the water hyacinths. When David Sullivan pulled the pole back, he brought up two leeches, each about the size of a pinky finger.

David Sullivan scraped them off with his cloth-soled shoe and kicked them out into the sun to dry.

It was said that back in the famine years, villagers would dry these things and cook them as food.

Compared to places so poor they had to eat hairy crabs, this was even tougher.

David Sullivan set up the fishing net and waited patiently. Having just cleared away the water hyacinths, he might have startled the fish below.

The water was very muddy, making it impossible to see what was underneath. After waiting seven or eight minutes, David Sullivan stood up and cast the net.

Although he’d been casting nets and spearing fish with Seventh Uncle since he was twelve or thirteen, he hadn’t done it since coming back. This time, the net didn’t open fully, but his aim was decent, and the net landed in the gentle area.

Once the net settled on the bottom, David Sullivan grabbed the rope tied to his wrist and slowly pulled it up. As the rope tightened, he could feel there was something in the net!

He pulled the net up, foot by foot, and as it broke the surface, David Sullivan raised his eyebrows—caught between the lead weights were fish!

David Sullivan hauled the net ashore, opened it, and picked out the fish, first tossing aside the rocks and trash, then grabbing the fish.

The biggest was a grass carp, probably over two jin by feel; there were also two yellow catfish, each with three sharp spines on their backs and sides—getting pricked by one would really hurt.

And then there were a few leeches.

David Sullivan put the fish into the water bags and tossed the leeches onto the embankment to bask in the sun. He threw the two water bags into the water on the south side of the dam, tying their ropes to a tree on the outside of the embankment.

He straightened the net, sat on the dam, and waited again.

At this point, two soldiers patrolling the river walked over. Seeing David Sullivan fishing, they stopped out of curiosity.

One of them, with a dark face, nudged the sun-drying leeches with his foot, then squatted down to pick one up and take a look.

David Sullivan greeted them with a smile: “Hello, soldier brothers.”

This rather novel greeting made the two soldiers laugh, and they politely replied, “Hello.”

The dark-faced one, speaking with a southern accent, asked David Sullivan, “Drying them for medicine?”

“For medicine?” David Sullivan hadn’t thought of that. “They can be used as medicine?”

The soldier continued, “Sure. There’s a traditional medicine market near our station—I’ve seen them there.”

David Sullivan thought for a moment and asked, “Do they buy them?”

“Not really sure,” the soldier smiled. “I’ve never asked.”

David Sullivan had a guess. “Could I ask where your station is?”

The soldier replied, “Over by the West Market in Quannan.”

David Sullivan knew the place—it was the largest comprehensive wholesale market in Quannan City, and even as late as 2019, it was still the top spot in the surrounding area.

“Thank you,” said David Sullivan.

“You’re welcome.” The two soldiers continued their patrol.

David Sullivan cast the net again. The second time, it was a bit off and landed in the rapids, but he quickly pulled it back.

Seventh Uncle really was experienced—this spot was a fish haven. On the second cast, he caught a big catfish.

Unlike later years when their numbers plummeted, native catfish were currently a hot commodity—plenty of meat, plenty of fat, and no annoying bones.

Because of what the soldier said, all the leeches David Sullivan caught, he tossed out into the sun to dry.

As the sun rose higher, more people with nets and free time came to the river. From the east side of the sluice gate to where David Sullivan was, there were seven or eight people fishing.

With the high water and abundant fish, David Sullivan had a good haul—by noon, he had nearly ten jin.

This was only possible during special times; on a normal day, it would be unbelievably lucky.