Chapter 108: The Golden Carp

What to do during summer vacation?

Having hired an assistant and returned to his hometown, Zhang Tan pondered over how to spend his summer break. According to his memories from those years, he spent most of his vacations catching fish and shrimp to earn some extra money. In rural towns, children—especially those from farming families—would often catch fish and shrimp. Back in 2002, before the foodie culture took hold, wild game was abundant in many places.

In winter, they hunted wild chickens and rabbits; in summer, they fished for shrimp, caught loaches, and dug for eels. As a child, Zhang Tan used to catch crayfish by fishing: a small wooden stick tied with a thin line, baited with frog legs or shrimp meat, patiently waiting for the crayfish to bite. This method was primitive and outdated, yet immensely enjoyable.

Older boys had long since abandoned fishing rods for traps. The trap was a long, circular net, propped up every fifty centimeters with wire. Its slightly complex structure, especially the inward-facing barbs at the entrance, made it very difficult for small fish and shrimp to escape once they had entered.

There were two ways to use the trap. One was to place it in larger rivers or shallow seas and drag it behind a boat to scoop up fish and shrimp. The other was to set smaller traps in ponds or ditches between fields, letting the fish and shrimp swim in on their own, then retrieving the traps after half a day or so.

Because the net’s mesh was small, it often caught juvenile fish, leading many places to ban its use. However, Anhui’s hilly terrain meant many rivers and streams twisted and turned, making these traps very convenient. Moreover, resources were still plentiful, so there was no restriction on using them.

Back then, during the summer vacation of high school, Zhang Tan would place traps in all the ditches and ponds behind his hometown and collect from them once a day. He could find crayfish, hairy crabs, river shrimp, eels, loaches, and various small fish in his traps. Few people engaged in this work, so competition was low, and he could earn several hundred yuan over the summer.

In the future, as food enthusiasts developed an interest in wild game, rural rivers and ponds became scarce in wild delicacies, replaced mostly by aquaculture.

In any case, upon seeing his elder cousin equipped with a hand net, fish basket, and bucket, worrying about how to spend the summer, Zhang Tan immediately followed along.

“Big brother, where are you going to catch fish?”

His cousin proudly replied, “Come on, I’ll take you to the Three Stations. Today they’re opening the sluice gates to drain water; there will be fish everywhere in the river bends!”

The Three Stations referred to a small hydropower plant in Gangji Town—not for generating electricity, but for pumping water.

Anhui’s terrain was complex, with many mountainous and hilly areas. Most of the He Fei region was hilly, but not typical hills; rather, they were undulating mounds. Because of the terrain, many places needed artificial irrigation, which led to numerous small hydropower stations.

In fact, this area could barely be considered part of the Pi Shi Hang Irrigation District—a branch project of the Chuhe Main Canal. The Pi Shi Hang Irrigation District was the largest irrigation project in the country, built after the founding of New China. Zhang Tan’s parents had worked on it during the great construction period, hauling soil by the river. Virtually all the waterways in Gangji Town were painstakingly dug out back then.

Upstream of the irrigation district was the Dabie Mountains, where many reservoirs were built to regulate water flow downstream. The most famous reservoir was Foziling Reservoir. Zhang Tan’s first cigarette was from the He Fei Cigarette Factory, named after this reservoir.

The Pi Shi Hang Irrigation District greatly benefited the Jianghuai region and continues to do so to this day.

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Sure enough.

Riding bicycles, Zhang Tan’s elder cousin led him to enjoy the bounty of their hometown and catch fish.

The sluice gates at the Three Stations wouldn’t open to drain water until 9:30 a.m. But before nine, the river bends at the water outlet were already crowded with people of all ages, all there to catch fish and shrimp.

“Qiangzi, you’re here to catch fish too?” Several young men spotted Zhang Tan’s cousin and called out immediately.

Zhang Qiang pushed his bike over, catching a cigarette offered by one of them. “Yeah, came to catch a few fish to improve life a bit.”

“You want to improve life? Your second brother’s running an internet cafe, making plenty of money.”

“That’s his business, not mine.”

“Come on, always playing the poor card. Hey, isn’t that Zhang Tan back there? Your family’s big-shot writer?”

Someone sharp-eyed had spotted Zhang Tan.

Most of the faces were familiar, though Zhang Tan couldn’t remember their names. He politely nodded, “Are you all here to catch fish?”

“Yeah, catching fish. Even the big-shot writer is here?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a big-shot writer,” Zhang Tan modestly waved his hand. “I just came with my brother to have a look and maybe buy some good fish or shrimp.”

Zhang Tan was also a foodie. While wild delicacies were still abundant these years, he wanted to enjoy them fully; later on, such pure, wild flavors would be hard to come by.

“Why buy? When we catch big crabs, we’ll just give you some. Crabs are nutritious; you writers need to nourish your brains for writing,” one of them said jokingly, though the “big-shot writer” compliment was about eighty percent sincere.

Now, Zhang Tan was somewhat of a local celebrity near his home. The women in the surrounding villages loved gossiping about unusual people and events; writers, naturally, were included among the extraordinary. That’s how Zhang Tan’s reputation spread and how he became a role model for local women to encourage their children.

Things like, “Look at you—good for nothing. Look at Zhang Tan from the Old Zhang family, already a writer in high school. You’re just wasting time—you should be ashamed.”

Joking and chatting away, it was soon 9:30.

The hydropower station’s machinery roared to life. Three pumping machines began drawing water with a deep gurgling sound. Their immense suction and turbine rotation swept various fish and shrimp into the river bend at the outlet, dazed and disoriented, where those lying in wait leapt into action, swinging their hand nets to catch them.

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Zhang Tan, curious, wandered around, watching who caught what. If anything caught his eye, he’d ask the price.

Most of the catches brought up by the pumps were common carp, grass carp, and other ordinary fish, with hardly any crabs.

These common fish were nothing special.

“Hey, big-shot writer, come look!” Suddenly, one of the young men who had been chatting earlier called out to Zhang Tan.

When Zhang Tan approached, the young man pulled out a shimmering golden fish from the net.

“Look at this yellow carp,” he said.

It was a yellow carp weighing about three or four pounds, its scales gleaming like gold as it jumped in the net—extraordinarily beautiful.

Zhang Tan exclaimed delightedly, “Is this a koi?”

“No idea, but it’s a yellow carp.”

“That color’s gorgeous—a good omen. It must taste great,” a middle-aged man nearby nodded approvingly.

Zhang Tan felt it was too precious to eat, so he asked, “Can I buy it?”

“You want it? It’s yours,” the young man, acquainted with Zhang Qiang and on friendly terms, generously placed the yellow carp into Zhang Tan’s net bag.

“That’s so kind of you. How much do I owe you?”

The young man waved him off. “No charge, no charge.”

Zhang Tan still insisted on paying, but Zhang Qiang came over, patted his shoulder, and said, “Keep it. Who charges for a single fish?”

With Zhang Qiang’s words, Zhang Tan didn’t press further. After thanking them, he happily put the yellow carp into Zhang Qiang’s bucket. “I’ll raise this carp when I get home.”