Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

The afternoon sun was setting, and the sunlight wasn't as intense as at noon; it felt warm and pleasant on the skin. Wei Chen came out of the house, slung his fishing rod over his shoulder, picked up a tin bucket, scooped half a bucket of water from the water vat in the yard, hung it on the back of his bicycle, and pushed it towards the gate.

Wang Xiulan was squatting by the mat, turning over dates. Seeing his attire, she asked, "Going fishing again?"

"Hmm, let's go check out the river." Wei Chen turned his bicycle around. "I'll catch a couple of fish tonight to treat myself."

"Go ahead, be careful." Wang Xiulan didn't ask any more questions and went back to rummaging through her dates.

Wei Chen pushed his cart out of the east courtyard and, as he crossed the front yard, he ran into Uncle Yan Fugui, the third uncle, squatting at his doorway. Uncle Yan held a thin bamboo pole with a piece of cotton thread tied to the tip, and a fishhook made from a bent pin attached to the thread. Uncle Yan was there, adjusting the hook, when he heard footsteps. He looked up, saw Wei Chen, and immediately stood up: "Wei Chen! You're... going fishing?"

Wei Chen nodded: "Okay, let's go take a look at the river."

The old man's eyes lit up immediately: "What a coincidence! I was just about to go too!" He stood up, shook the bamboo pole in his hand, and said, "Wait a minute, I'll get the bucket, and we'll go together."

Wei Chen glanced at his bamboo pole, then at the professional fishing rod on his back, and didn't say anything more, just grunted in response, and waited at the gate of the courtyard.

The old man moved quickly, going back into the house to grab a broken iron bucket with half an earthworm inside. He also took a small stool, tucked it under his arm, and strode out: "Let's go, Wei Chen, I know a place with lots of fish!"

The two left the courtyard. Wei Chen pushed his bicycle, while Uncle San walked beside him carrying a bucket. Uncle San, always talkative, started chattering as soon as they stepped out of the gate: "Wei Chen, thank you so much for those dates this morning. Your date tree has yielded such a good harvest this year, so big and sweet. When my kids came back, their pockets were full, and Aunt San also had a huge bunch. I looked, and wow, it must have weighed two or three pounds! These days, it's hard to find even wild vegetables, let alone dates. Your dates have saved a lot of kids' mouths."

Wei Chen smiled and said, "Uncle, you're too kind. The jujube tree was laden with fruit, so it's only right that everyone helped pick them and share them."

The old man clicked his tongue: "That's true, but who would be so generous? I've lived this long and seen a lot. These days, everyone is just trying to make ends meet. The only family in the whole courtyard that would be willing to share a handful of dates with their neighbors is yours, Wei Chen's family."

As he spoke, he sighed again, "To be honest, I'm a little embarrassed. Four of our children went, plus your third aunt, and each of us took a big handful back. I feel really bad about it."

"Uncle, please don't say that." Wei Chen pushed the cart without stopping. "We're neighbors in the same courtyard, we see each other all the time, it's only right to share food."

The old man was silent for a while, not mentioning the dates again, but his steps were noticeably lighter. After walking for a while, he spoke up again: "Wei Chen, let me tell you, there are so many people fishing by the river now. In this year of famine, there's not enough food, so everyone's thinking of trying their luck at the river. But most of them are just wasting their time, guess what?"

They used hooks made of needles, cotton thread, and bamboo rods—no floats at all, relying entirely on feel. Some people fished all day without catching a single fish, going home empty-handed. Catching a few small, unwanted fish was considered lucky.

Wei Chen replied, "And what about you, Third Uncle? Your equipment is also a needle, hook, and bamboo pole?"

The old man smiled somewhat sheepishly: "I had no choice; I couldn't afford a proper fishing rod. But let me tell you, my hooks are well-sharpened and bend perfectly, no worse than those proper hooks. I even caught a half-pound crucian carp yesterday!"

Wei Chen didn't reply, he just smiled.

The two walked for about twenty minutes and arrived at the river outside the city. The river was not wide, about ten meters wide, with a gentle current, and the banks were covered with withered reeds and weeds. The river water in late autumn was grayish-green, and it did not look very clear, nor was it too murky.

A dense crowd of people, young and old, sat along the riverbank. Some were squatting, some were sitting on small stools, and some were simply sitting on rocks. Each person held a bamboo pole or tree branch with a cotton thread dangling from the tip, the end of the thread submerged in the water, waiting quietly.

Some people had an empty bucket beside them, while others hadn't even brought a bucket; they simply strung their catch on straw ropes and hung them on small trees along the bank. No one spoke; the entire riverbank was quiet, save for the rustling of the reeds in the wind and the occasional ripple on the water's surface. Everyone stared intently at their lines, their expressions focused, as if performing a solemn act.

Wei Chen pushed his bike along the riverbank for a while, then found a relatively empty spot and stopped. He squatted down, propped the bike up, untied the tin can, placed it at his feet, and then took the fishing rod off his back, unfolding and tightening it section by section. He then took a small tin box from his pocket, opened it, and inside were several fishhooks and a small roll of nylon line neatly arranged. He took out a fishhook, tied it to the line, then took out a small bottle, unscrewed the cap, poured out a few yellow bait pellets, rolled them into small balls, and hooked them onto the hook.

The old man squatted down beside him, his eyes fixed on the fishing rod and bait in Wei Chen's hand, clicking his tongue in amazement: "Wei Chen, you really have all the gear! That rod must have cost several yuan, right? And this bait, I've never seen it before, did you buy it?"

"I had someone arrange it," Wei Chen mumbled, standing up and casting his line. The hook, baited, arced through the air before landing on the water, creating ripples. He propped the rod on a fork-shaped support on the bank, then squatted down, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out, and offered it to the old man, "Have one."

The old man took the cigarette, brought it to his nose and smelled it: "Oh, Daqianmen? Good cigarette!" He lit it, took a puff, squinted his eyes, and said, "Wei Chen, you're living a good life. You have good cigarettes and a good cigarette, unlike us poor people."

Wei Chen also lit a cigarette and took a puff: "It's alright. Uncle, didn't you say you were going to teach me about fishing? I'm a beginner, so please give me some pointers."

The old man got excited, cleared his throat, and began his long-winded explanation: "Let me tell you, there are a lot of things to know about fishing. First, choose your spot. Look at those people sitting close to the riverbank, why can't they catch anything? It's because they're sitting in the wrong places. You have to find a place with grass, because fish like to hide under the grass."

Second, observe the water color. If the water is too clear, the fish can see you but won't dare approach; if the water is too murky, the fish won't be able to see the food. Choose a spot that isn't too murky, preferably with a yellowish-green tint. In this type of water, there is food at the bottom, and the fish will be more willing to stay.

Thirdly, patience is key. Fishing is all about waiting. If you're impatient, the fish won't be. You need to stay calm and not keep lifting the hook to check on it, or you'll scare the fish away as soon as it bites…

Wei Chen listened and nodded, but his gaze quietly fell on the river. His spiritual power spread out silently, like an invisible mist, covering the water area within a radius of several dozen steps.

The scene at the bottom of the river was clearly presented in his mind—silt, pebbles, water plants, and a few palm-sized crucian carp swimming slowly among the weeds. There weren't many big fish; the group of people on the bank had been fishing for half a day, and most of them had only caught some small, finger-length fish.

He wasn't in a hurry, just squatting there, chatting casually with the old man. The old man talked about his fishing experiences by the river in his hometown when he was young. He said that back then the river water was clear and there were plenty of fish; you could catch a crucian carp weighing more than half a pound with just one cast. He said that nowadays, even the fish are fewer, and he didn't know if they had been fished out or if the river water had become too murky for the fish to stay in.

Wei Chen listened, occasionally responding with a word or two, but his gaze never left the water. Sometimes his fishing line would twitch slightly; he'd pull it up, revealing a small, finger-length fish on the hook. He wasn't annoyed; he'd remove the fish from the hook, toss it into the bucket, bait it with fresh bait, cast the line, and continue waiting.

The old man was worried for him: "Wei Chen, this spot isn't good, you keep getting small fish. Why don't we switch spots? I caught a half-pound fish in my spot yesterday."

Wei Chen smiled and said, "No rush, let's wait a bit longer. When the small fish are causing trouble, the big fish are usually behind."

The old man shook his head dismissively, then squatted back down in his spot, staring at his bamboo pole. After a while, his line twitched, and he jerked it up sharply, revealing a tiny fish about the size of a thumb on the hook. He sighed, removed the fish, and tossed it into the bucket: "Too small, but it'll do for a bowl of soup."

The other anglers around were in a similar situation. Some cast their lines only to find the hooks empty; the fish had eaten all the bait, and they hadn't even caught a glimpse of one. Others managed to catch a tiny, finger-length fish, barely enough to make a pot of soup.

An old man with white hair sat on a rock, holding a pole made from a tree branch. He didn't move for a long time, then suddenly pulled hard, and a crucian carp the size of a palm was hooked on the hook.

His face crinkled with joy as he carefully removed the fish from its shell and placed it in an enamel basin at his feet. He then cast the line back into the water and continued watching. A young man nearby glanced over and clicked his tongue enviously, "Old man, you're quite lucky."

The old man didn't even turn his head: "It's not luck, it's skill. I've been squatting here for three hours before I finally got on this one."

As the sun slowly slanted westward, the light on the river changed from bright white to golden. When Wei Chen finished his third cigarette, a thought struck him. His attention locked onto a carp weighing roughly five pounds, swimming slowly among the water plants in the middle of the river.

With a slight thought, he guided the crucian carp towards his hook. The fish hesitated at first, circling the bait twice, gently touching it, then retreating. Wei Chen didn't move, patiently waiting. The fish circled twice more, finally opening its mouth and swallowing the bait.

The fishing line suddenly tightened.