Chapter 6: Things Are Finally Looking Up

Madam Zheng had not yet returned.

Shen Xiuhan stowed the rice and flour in the crock, then hung the pork belly on the hook above the stove, close to the fire pit.

The smoke and heat would keep cats and rats away, and cure the raw, gamey smell out of the meat.

Little Momo followed at his heels, never straying an inch.

She clutched a few crispy fish bones, sucking at the salt on them in tiny licks, taking ages before she could bear to crunch one down and swallow it.

"Gege, did you catch lots of fishy-wishies today?"

Shen Xiuhan crouched before the stove and lit the fire, laughing without looking back: "Mm, landed quite a few big ones."

"Then... how much money-money did you make?" Shen Momo scooted closer, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Take a guess."

Shen Momo tilted her head, thought hard about it, then boldly held up a number with her fingers:

"Ten big coins?"

Shen Xiuhan couldn't help but laugh. Without another word, he fished out a string of coins and gave it a gentle shake.

Clink, clink, clink...

The crisp ring of copper on copper was music to the ears.

Shen Momo stared at the long string of coins, her eyes rounder than the coins themselves:

"Wooow, that's so much money-money!"

Shen Xiuhan took out her little pouch, slipped a few more coins inside to round it up to ten, and pressed it back into her hands, lowering his voice with a conspiratorial grin:

"Here — this is Momo's cut for going in on the deal. Wealth must stay hidden, so go stash it quick!"

"Mm!"

Little Momo's face went serious as a judge. She accepted the pouch with both hands, cradling it solemnly, then turned and pattered off into the back room to hide her fortune.

The guileless innocence of it tugged a smile from Shen Xiuhan.

He quickly turned his attention back to the ingredients.

He'd wanted to buy soy sauce and braise the two black bigheads in a proper red-cook.

But the price had been too steep, and he couldn't justify the expense.

So he changed tack — chopped the smaller one up for porridge, and roasted the larger one straight over the fire.

He washed the millet and set the pot going.

A few swift strokes of the knife — scales scraped, gills pulled.

He picked out the bones, cut the flesh into chunks, and dropped them into the bubbling millet porridge.

A quarter-hour over a medium flame, then off with the lid and in with a small pinch of coarse salt.

One more steep for about ten minutes, lid back on.

A rich, savory fish fragrance laced with the warmth of grain flooded the kitchen in an instant.

The other fish he gutted but kept the innards — bait for tomorrow's fishing.

He found a sharpened stick, skewered the fish end to end, and propped it over the charcoal in the fire pit, turning it slowly.

A quarter-hour was all it took.

"Sizzle, sizzle..."

Tiny beads of oil popped. The skin crisped to a golden brown, its edges curling up slightly, releasing an aroma that could have lured a dead man back to life.

Shen Xiuhan rubbed an even coat of coarse salt over it.

Done!

He'd barely set the evening meal out in bowls when the crunch of footsteps on snow came from outside.

Beyond the fence gate.

Madam Zheng trudged in, exhaustion written across her body, a bundle of firewood still slung over her shoulder.

"Mama!"

Shen Momo flung herself forward, bursting to share the news: "Gege came back and bought Momo all sorts of yummy things!"

Madam Zheng blinked.

She set the damp firewood down in the corner of the kitchen, and before she could even brush the snow off herself, her nostrils flared involuntarily.

A rich, full-bodied aroma of fish porridge hit her square in the face, almost tangible.

Madam Zheng looked up without thinking, and then froze where she stood.

Several bags of grain sat in the rice crock. A slab of pork belly hung from the stove hook. On the counter rested a pot of thick fish porridge, a whole roasted fish still sizzling with oil, and two salted duck eggs!

"Dalang... this — what is all this..."

Shen Xiuhan smiled and gave her a brief account — chiseling the ice at Xiaojing Bay, stumbling on a school of silver-striped fish, selling them for a tidy sum.

Madam Zheng's eyes reddened the instant he finished.

She walked to the stove, looked at the pork belly, and reached out to touch it gently. Then she turned to the bags of grain, her lips trembling, unable to speak for a long time.

Little Momo tugged at her hem, holding up a crispy fish bone like a trophy:

"Mama, try one! They're so yummy!"

Madam Zheng crouched down and took a small bite. The savory crunch melted across her tongue, and the tears she had held back for half a month broke loose like a dam.

She swiped at her eyes, her voice choked but brimming with relief:

"Good... good. My boy's grown up. He's making something of himself..."

...

Moments later.

A small fire crackled in the humble hearth, dry branches snapping and popping, the orange glow casting three wavering shadows against the wall.

The family of three sat around the kang table for dinner.

Madam Zheng and Shen Momo had not eaten a proper meal in half a month — not a drop of oil in their bellies. Shen Xiuhan had been on his feet all day in the cold, equally famished, stomach pressed flat against his spine.

This dinner was devoured like a storm sweeping through.

No idle talk — only the relentless sounds of chewing and swallowing.

About half an hour passed.

The three of them polished off an entire pot of fish porridge, a whole roasted fish, and a salted duck egg — clean to the last scraping, as if they'd have licked the pot bare given half a chance.

Shen Momo had eaten until fine beads of sweat dotted her forehead and a flush of color crept back into her small cheeks. She patted her perfectly round little belly in satisfaction:

"Gege's cooking is sooo yummy — even yummier than Mama's!"

Madam Zheng, clearing the empty bowls, looked up with genuine surprise:

"Come to think of it... Dalang, when did you learn to cook like this?"

The old Shen Dalang had been wooden and taciturn — not lazy exactly, but the sort who only knew how to keep his head down and do rough labor.

He'd always held to the notion that a proper man kept out of the kitchen. He had never once set foot inside, let alone produced food with this kind of color, aroma, and flavor.

"After brushing that close to death, a man's got to learn to keep a household running. Can't leave everything on your shoulders forever..."

Shen Xiuhan kept his expression natural and deflected casually, then changed the subject:

"Speaking of which, Mother — how much money does the family have left?"

At those words, the howling wind outside seemed to seep right through the walls, and the faint warmth that had just risen in the thatched hut turned heavy once more.

Madam Zheng said nothing. In silence, she shifted aside a corner of the wooden bed, scraped away the packed earth, and uncovered a small wooden lid buried beneath.

From under the lid, she lifted out a small black clay jar, and from the jar, a cloth pouch.

Sitting at the kang table, Madam Zheng laid the copper coins from the pouch out one by one.

By the faint firelight, she counted them twice over.

A long while later, she let out a deep sigh:

"This is everything... at best count, only ninety-one wen left."

Shen Xiuhan nodded slowly.

After a moment's thought, he pushed two full strings of coins across to Madam Zheng and said gently:

"Mother, keep these."

"From now on, I'll go down to the lake to fish every day. As long as we stay diligent, we should be able to clear the debt soon enough."

Looking at the heap of gleaming copper coins, Madam Zheng nodded with reddened eyes and carefully gathered them together.

Then she rummaged through her own patch-covered cloth pocket for a while.

And produced six wen.

That was her wages from the Bai family's weaving workshop.

It should have been eight wen a day.

But ever since Shen Sanhuai's death, the steward had found one excuse or another to dock a wen or two from every payout.

Madam Zheng didn't dare complain.

With the family's pillar gone and her only son bedridden with illness, she could not afford to lose this job under any circumstances.

She silently gathered all the coins together, packed them back into the cloth pouch, tied it in a tight knot, and stuffed it back into the little black clay jar. Then she shifted the bed frame aside again, dug into the earth, and buried it beneath the corner of the bed.

By the time all this was done, night had deepened.

Outside the window, snow fell thick and steady once more, pattering softly against the thatch.

Shen Xiuhan fed a few more sticks of wood into the hearth, climbed into bed, and was asleep within moments.

Well-fed Shen Momo was already yawning.

Madam Zheng lifted her little daughter onto the bed, held her close, and before long, the sound of soft, sweet breathing filled the room.

In the darkness, Madam Zheng quietly wiped away a tear.

These past days had nearly driven her mad. She'd lain awake until dawn more nights than she could count, listening to the wind wail outside like ghosts.

But tonight, her heart finally settled. She could close her eyes and sleep.

Dalang's illness had passed. There was grain in the house. There was income again.

Things were finally looking up!