"Don't just warm your hands, brothers." I rubbed mine together. "I brought chicken and glass noodles. Let's eat good tonight. Meant to bring mushrooms to stew, but I left in a rush and forgot. So let's stew up a pot of chicken and potatoes first to tide us over, and drop the fish in once we catch some."
As I spoke, I lifted a big hunk of oil-paper-wrapped chicken out of my cloth bundle, unwrapped it, and slid it in along the edge of the pot to blanch. The pot held water melted from fresh snow that morning, clear and clean, just right for blanching. Later, for stewing broth and boiling fish, we could just scoop river water straight up. The Ussuri's water was pure enough to drink as it is.
Donkey and the others looked at that chunk of plump, tender chicken, all a little embarrassed. "Chunzhu, buddy, you're treating us like strangers. We just came to fish for the fun of it. What did you bring all this good stuff for? Catch a single one out of this river and it's enough to stuff the lot of us. Dead of winter, they're all fish over a meter long."
A villager, face flushed red from the cold, chimed in, full of pride. "Let me tell you, back in '62, when the commune organized a fish haul, a few of us together pulled up a carp over three meters long, thicker around than a grown man's waist. Took several of us, and we still couldn't hold it down. Heard someone on the far bank once dragged out a fish over five meters with a tractor, scales big as your palm. Scary, huh?"
The guys went back and forth, warmth all through them. They could tell at a glance this was a proper home-raised chicken, meat fresh and tender. In these lean, hard times, a home-raised chicken was a rare thing, and Li Chunzhu had hauled it all this way to share out. That kind of heart was hard to come by. A city fellow from the capital, not a shred of airs about him, and this generous on top of it. Worth getting to know.
I waved a hand and gave an easy laugh. "Already brought it, so let's all eat. Joy shared beats joy alone."
Stirring the scum in the pot, I went on. "Truth be told, before I came, I was fretting I wouldn't take to the village food. So I made a point of bringing ten pounds of chicken and over a hundred eggs, figuring if it came to it, I'd cook for myself. But who'd have guessed? Just a few days in and the folks are already looking after me this well. Share out grain. And Auntie Li and Auntie Wang even gave me a jar of their own pickled cabbage, crisp and real tasty. Went to thank them yesterday, and Auntie Wang said come spring she'd help me make bean paste and pickle sweet garlic, so I can get a taste of home right here."
Sounded easy the way I said it, but inside I was tickled pink. When I left the capital I'd only brought two hundred bucks and some grain coupons, worried country life would be tight. Who'd have thought, a few days in and I'd awakened a golden finger, plus got such tender care from the folks. This wasn't going down to the countryside to suffer. This was coming out here to cut loose and live free and easy.
"Huh? You sure know how to talk, kid." Dummy scratched his head and laughed. "That Auntie Li you mentioned is my ma, and Auntie Wang is this kid's ma." He pointed at Iron Egg. "Oh, right. My real name's Li Fugui, and this kid's is Wang Jiang. But everyone in the village calls him Iron Egg."
"Right, right, Chunzhu, buddy, just call me Iron Egg. I'm not even used to my real name," Iron Egg said, scratching the back of his head shyly.
Right as we were chatting away, not far off an ice hole let out a great splash.
Donkey and Dummy reacted fastest, springing up almost instantly and rushing over to grab the rods. Call them rods, but really they were just shafts whittled from hardwood with fishing line wound around a few times, an earthworm on the hook. Crude, but they did the job.
"Whoa! Man alive, that's some real force. Big fish on the hook."
Donkey gripped the wooden shaft, the line yanking his arm till it ached, but his face was pure excitement. Hauling back for all he was worth, he shouted, "Iron Egg! Rock! Grab the net, scoop it up. Don't let it get away!"
Iron Egg snatched up the big fishing net and ran to the hole, sprawling flat on the ice, body leaning forward, eyes locked on the goings-on down in the hole. Rock quickly crouched behind Iron Egg, both hands clamped tight around his thighs. Dead of winter, the river water bone-piercing cold. The consequences of actually going in didn't bear thinking about.
Iron Post came over with an iron hammer, pulled out a flashlight, and shone it down the ice hole. "Donkey! Fugui! I got the light on it. Pull hard. I see the fish's shadow. It's a big one for sure."
First time in my whole life seeing a scene like this. Curious and worked up both, I edged in too, up on my toes, craning my neck to look, not daring to breathe loud, terrified of spooking that fish.
Donkey and Dummy's faces were purple with strain, veins bulging on their arms as they hauled back with everything they had. By the flashlight's glow I finally made it out. That fish was thrashing violently in the water, one flick of its tail throwing up a spray of water and ice, its force astonishing, nearly yanking the two of them face-first several times.
"Give it more! It's almost up!" Dummy roared through gritted teeth.
Finally, a huge grass carp got dragged clean out of the ice hole, slamming down hard on the ice with a smack, tail still beating wildly.
"My god, that big? Got to be thirty, forty pounds," I cried out.
That fish was a full meter long, body thicker than my arm, round and plump, the meat looking firm just at a glance.
Iron Post swung the iron hammer down, bam, on its head while it thrashed, and the grass carp twitched a few times and went still. Iron Egg scooped it up in the net and hugged it to his chest, grinning from ear to ear.
I clicked my tongue, marveling. "Back in the capital I often went to the river to fish with my family too. But there were more people fishing than fish in the river. The fish got caught before they even grew up. Most you'd land was half a pound. Next to this one, that's small potatoes."
Everyone crowded around the big grass carp. One saying, "Stew it." Another, "This big'll keep us going all night." Grinning so wide they couldn't close their mouths.
Donkey was the quickest. He crouched down and in a few deft moves gutted the fish, scaled it, pulled the gills, and cut it into big chunks. "Pot boiling yet?" he called back.
"Long since. Just waiting on the fish," Iron Egg answered.
The fish chunks slid down along the churning edge of the pot, and Donkey grabbed a handful of pickled cabbage, dumped in the potatoes and glass noodles I'd brought all at once, sprinkled in salt, and put on the lid.
The water in the pot was melted from fresh snow that morning, clear and clean. For topping up later, we could just scoop river water straight in. The old folks in the village said the Ussuri's water was pure enough to drink as it is, sweet and crisp, more refreshing than the well water back in the city.
Before long, white steam was pushing out through the gap in the lid, river water bubbling and rolling, the smell of fish mingling with the sour of the pickled cabbage and the smoke of the firewood, filling the whole shelter in an instant. Everyone swallowing hard at the smell.