Everyone’s gaze shifted back to her.
She walked over to the Eight Immortals table and looked at the register in Secretary Chen’s hands.
“Secretary Chen, I’d like to see the catch records for each fishing boat this time.”
Secretary Chen was taken aback. “What do you want to see that for?”
“Since the fish are being divided equally among the households, we should calculate exactly how much each family is entitled to. Could you please lend me the abacus?” Shen Zhiyi’s voice was steady, even steadier than she had imagined it would be.
Quiet murmurs spread through the ancestral hall. Keeping accounts was the accountant’s job and had always been considered men’s work. Yet here was a woman, and a young outsider at that, asking to do the calculations in front of everyone.
After hesitating for a moment, Secretary Chen pulled an old wooden abacus from the drawer and handed it to her.
Shen Zhiyi accepted it.
Taking a calming breath, she opened the catch record book.
“Zheng family’s boat: thirty jin of ribbonfish, fifteen jin of yellow croaker, twenty jin of mixed fish, for a total of sixty five jin. Thirty percent goes to the collective, which is nineteen and a half jin. The remaining forty five and a half jin stays with the Zheng family.”
The abacus beads clicked sharply beneath her fingers. Her hands were slender, yet every movement across the beads was swift and precise, and she read each figure aloud with perfect clarity.
“Lin family’s boat: twenty five jin of ribbonfish, twenty jin of yellow croaker, fifteen jin of mixed fish, totaling sixty jin. Eighteen jin goes to the collective, leaving forty two jin for the family.”
The ancestral hall fell so quiet that the only sound was the rhythmic clatter of the abacus. The men stared at her with wide eyes, the women whispered among themselves, and even the children stopped playing, craning their necks to watch.
Shen Zhiyi continued page after page. The five boats that had returned early had brought back very little. The largest catch was only a little over seventy jin, while the smallest barely reached forty. Even so, she checked every calculation carefully, verifying each number more than once.
When she reached the three boats belonging to King Yama Wang, she paused.
The record book read:
Wang Family Boat Number One: no catch.
Wang Family Boat Number Two: no catch.
Wang Family Boat Number Three: no catch.
Below that, a line of red ink had been added later.
The boat sank. Fishing nets completely destroyed.
Shen Zhiyi looked up at King Yama Wang.
“Uncle Wang, your family’s catch is zero. According to the rules, you don’t need to contribute thirty percent to the collective, but… there’s nothing left to keep either.”
King Yama Wang’s face darkened completely. He glared at Shen Zhiyi, his eyes filled with murderous fury.
She didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze head on.
“However, according to the old rules, fishing households that lose their boats are compensated by the collective for thirty percent of their losses. What was the cost of each of your three boats, and how much were the fishing gear and nets worth after depreciation? I’ll calculate how much compensation you’re entitled to.”
“You…”
King Yama Wang suddenly took a step forward.
At that moment, Zhou Xubai moved.
He merely stepped forward slightly, leaning on his crutch as he came to stand behind Shen Zhiyi. He neither spoke nor made any threatening gesture. He simply stood there like a silent wall.
King Yama Wang stopped in his tracks.
He looked at Zhou Xubai.
The stories about the man came flooding back.
A decorated war hero.
A leg lost in battle.
The man who had dragged a stranded fishing boat back through a typhoon, only to spend half a month recovering in the island clinic afterward.
He also remembered what he had witnessed that very morning on the beach. A few young men had tried to pocket a few extra fish for themselves, but a single look from Zhou Xubai had sent them sheepishly returning the fish to the basket.
This man was far more terrifying when he stayed silent than when he spoke.
Grinding his teeth, King Yama Wang finally took a step back.
“You win.”
He forced the words through clenched teeth before turning and pushing his way out of the ancestral hall.
A collective sigh of relief rose from the crowd.
The fish distribution took place on the beach.
The combined catch from the five boats came to less than three hundred jin. Once divided equally among the households, each family received about five jin, roughly three ribbonfish, two yellow croakers, and a handful of mixed fish. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to feed a family for a couple of meals.
Standing among the crowd, Shen Zhiyi watched as Secretary Chen and the accountant weighed, recorded, and handed out the fish one by one. Every family that received their share wore a smile, comparing whose ribbonfish looked fatter and whose yellow croaker was larger.
When it was Shen Zhiyi’s turn, Secretary Chen deliberately picked out a few of the biggest fish.
“Little Shen, it’s all thanks to you this time. Consider these a small token of everyone’s appreciation.”
Shen Zhiyi shook her head.
“Secretary Chen, I should receive exactly what I’m entitled to. Once the rules are set, they should be followed.”
Secretary Chen froze for a moment before breaking into a broad smile.
“Good! Very good! Then we’ll do it according to the rules!”
In the end, Shen Zhiyi received three ribbonfish, two yellow croakers, and a handful of small mixed fish. The ribbonfish gleamed silver while the yellow croakers shone a rich golden color, all fresh enough to still carry the salty scent of the sea.
She strung them together with a length of straw rope, and they felt satisfyingly heavy in her hand.
On the way home, people greeted her one after another.
“Master Little Shen, heading home?”
“Master Shen, are you coming to teach us net weaving again tomorrow?”
“Master Shen, my family pickled some vegetables. I’ll bring you some later!”
In just three days, she’d gone from “Little Shen” to “Master Shen.”
She responded to each greeting with a smile, feeling the fire burning inside her grow even stronger.
By the time she returned to the tin roof house, dusk had already settled.
She hung the fish from the wooden hook outside the door before going inside to light the stove and prepare dinner. Zhou Xubai sat at the table, spreading out the weather observation notebooks that had been soaked by the rain, carefully pressing each page flat beneath paperweights so they could dry.
The fire crackled cheerfully, and the water in the pot soon came to a rolling boil.
Shen Zhiyi cleaned the ribbonfish, cut them into sections, rubbed them with salt, and steamed them. She used the yellow croakers to make a simple soup with ginger slices and wild scallions. Before long, the rich aroma of fresh fish filled the little house.
During dinner, neither of them spoke.
Shen Zhiyi sipped the fish soup in small mouthfuls. It was wonderfully fresh, with just enough ginger to remove the fishy taste without overpowering it. She secretly glanced at Zhou Xubai. He ate slowly, chewing every bite with care, as though savoring some rare delicacy.
After dinner, Shen Zhiyi cleared away the bowls and chopsticks while Zhou Xubai picked up his crutch and walked to the doorway, gazing out at the sea beneath the night sky.
The waves rolled in one after another. They sounded calmer than before, yet somehow heavier, as though the sea itself were sighing.
After washing the dishes and drying her hands, Shen Zhiyi walked over to stand beside him.
“Thank you… for today,” she said softly.
Without turning around, Zhou Xubai replied, “It was only right.”
Silence followed. Only the waves continued their endless rhythm, one after another.
Shen Zhiyi studied his profile. Moonlight bathed his face, softening the scar that crossed it, yet his brows remained faintly furrowed, as though he were enduring something.
She remembered what she had seen that night beneath the moon.
He had been sitting on the rocks, vigorously massaging what remained of his injured leg. Sweat had beaded across his forehead, and each time he pressed down, his shoulders trembled ever so slightly.
His leg was hurting again.
Biting her lower lip, Shen Zhiyi turned and went back inside. She searched through her bundle until she found a small cloth pouch. Inside were medicinal herbs Granny Lin had given her: mugwort, ginger, and Sichuan peppercorns, all crushed together and wrapped in cloth. It was a traditional island remedy for rheumatism and aching legs.
She warmed the herbal compress over the stove before carrying it back to Zhou Xubai.
“You… sit down,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Zhou Xubai turned to look at the herbal compress in her hands, and something flickered in his eyes.
“I… I’ve noticed that sometimes when you walk, you pause for a moment.” Shen Zhiyi kept her head lowered, unable to meet his gaze. “Granny Lin said this remedy works. I… would you let me massage it for you?”
The moment the words left her mouth, even she was startled.
It was far too forward.
Far too shameless. Yet she couldn’t stop herself.
She remembered how he had stood behind her in the ancestral hall today, leaning on his crutch like a silent wall.
She remembered him saying, “My wife did the calculations.”
Zhou Xubai remained silent for a long time.