In this severe drought, there wasn't even the chirp of an insect on the road. Only the creak, creak, creaking of the wheelbarrow's axle sounded exceptionally piercing in the night.
Along the way, we dodged two patrols. It wasn't until one in the morning that we felt our way to the scrapyard warehouse on the city's outskirts. The place was remote, surrounded by rusted, rotten iron racks. A musty, rusty smell hung in the air.
I took out half a folded, wrinkled old newspaper and tapped on a wooden door — three long knocks and two short ones.
The door creaked open a crack, and a man in an old straw hat peeked his head out. He was Lao Wang. The big factory canteen in the city came to him for anything they lacked. Lao Wang took the half newspaper from my hand and matched it with his own. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief and say in a low voice, "What took you so long? Where's the stuff?"
I lifted the old cotton quilt off the wheelbarrow, revealing the almost divine-looking catfish inside. Lao Wang's eyes went wide. He reached out and grabbed one that weighed about ten jin. The slippery fish thrashed in his hands.
"My goodness, in times like these, where did you get so many fat catfish?" He marveled while quickly ushering us deeper into the warehouse.
In those years of planned economy, private trading was considered speculation and profiteering. Everyone had their faces covered, showing only their eyes.
"Five mao per jin. The price is firm," I said, getting straight to the point.
Hearing this, Lao Wang's heart pounded in his chest. At that time, pork was only seven or eight mao a jin. Selling fish for five mao was an astronomical price, but Lao Wang didn't even hesitate. "Deal. I'm in urgent need of these fish. I'll take them all."
In the end, it was about two hundred jin of fish. Lao Wang handed me over a hundred yuan.
But besides the money, I also had my eye on the scarce goods in his warehouse. "I want cotton cloth, two bolts of the thick kind, and a fifty-jin bag of white flour. And give me a stack of industrial coupons."
Lao Wang swiftly dragged the items out from behind a pile of old newspapers. These were all treasures he had scrounged from various sources. Dad stared at that snow-white flour, unable to look away, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
After the trade, I stuffed the money into Dad's hands. He hastily sewed it into a hidden seam in his waistband, terrified the money would grow wings and fly away.
On the way back, although the wheelbarrow was loaded with heavy goods, Dad's steps were much lighter than before.
Just as the sky was faintly dawning, we finally made it home. Li Shufang hadn't slept at all and was sitting on the doorstep weeping. The moment she saw us, she rushed to bolt the door shut. "You're back. Did you run into any trouble?"
Luo Wenxin's face was flushed with joy. He placed the white flour he was holding onto the table. "Wife, hurry and cook. Today, everyone in the family gets a boiled egg, and we'll make a big pot of rice porridge."
For that entire day, our front door remained closed. My mom stuffed all the cracks in the door and windows with old rags, terrified the aroma would drift over to Old Lady Yang's house next door.
A large pig's head we got from the black market was braising in the pot. The aroma of chili and star anise swirled around the tiny room. White rice was scooped into bowls, gleaming white, and topped with rich, fatty pieces of the pig's head. My two younger sisters, Luo Hongmei and Luo Hongju, were drooling at the sight.
"Eat, don't make a sound," Li Shufang said as she gave them pieces of meat. She urged them in a hushed voice.
They hadn't even had two bites yet when we heard Old Lady Yang's shrill, grating yelling from next door. "Oh, the torture. Who in the world is cooking meat right now? That smell is absolutely deadly."
Just then, there was a frantic knocking at the door. "Wenxin's wife, are you home? I'm here to borrow some embers."
It was old Mrs. Yang, testing us. That old woman was famous for her sharp eyes and keen sense of smell. She loved nothing more than sniffing out what goodies other families had.
I shot my mom a look. Li Shufang quickly hid the bowl of meat inside the cabinet. She wiped the grease from her mouth and opened the door just a crack. "Oh, Mrs. Yang, we haven't even started a fire. We were just planning on having some pumpkin soup to make do."
"So, you wouldn't have any embers then?" Old Mrs. Yang craned her neck, peeking inside. She sniffed the air hard, but my mom had already gotten rid of most of the smell. "Funny. I think I smell meat," old Mrs. Yang said with a suspicious look on her face.
"You must be dizzy from hunger. These days, we've nearly chewed through all the tree bark. Where would we possibly get meat?"
After sending old Mrs. Yang on her way, our whole family exchanged a smile, but deep down, we were more on guard than ever.