“Auntie, we’re going to the reed marsh to catch fish. Are you coming?”
The rain had fallen intermittently for three days, and the Yellow River had swelled, submerging the exposed riverbanks. The reed marsh west of the pontoon bridge was also flooded. Under the rush of the swift current, fish stunned by the waves would drift into the reed marsh and never leave again. Whenever the rain stopped, the villagers of Dapo Village would wade into the marsh to catch fish.
“I’m coming,” Fu Ruyi replied. She put on the muddy straw sandals she’d left under the eaves, took a coil of hemp rope from where it hung on the wall, and called into the silkworm room: “Mother, I’m going to the reed marsh with Dachun and the others to catch fish.”
“Be careful,” Mother Fu cautioned.
“Auntie, I want to go too!” Fu Ying shouted from inside the house.
“Stay put at home,” Lin Juan scolded. “You’ve soaked four sets of clothes in three days. Do you even have anything left to wear outside?”
Fu Ruyi slipped out while she had the chance. Her eldest brother’s second and third children, and her second brother’s three children, were all waiting outside the courtyard, hemp rope already coiled around their waists.
“Let’s go—hurry, before the villagers beat us there,” Fu Ruyi said.
The group took off running down the muddy road.
Passing the village entrance, Fu Ruyi called for her second sister’s children, adding three more to the group.
Leaving the village, the roar of rushing water suddenly grew loud. A gust of wind swept by, lifting spray more than a chi off the Yellow River’s surface. From a distance, the water stretched white and vast, the opposite bank swallowed in mist, barely visible.
As she drew closer, Fu Ruyi noticed ten or twenty people gathered among the rocks on either side of the pontoon bridge, each holding a shovel—all of them people who’d been out digging drainage ditches in the fields. Her second and third brothers were there too.
“What are you all standing around for?” Fu Ruyi walked over, staring at the bridge. “Did a big fish jump onto it?”
Cao Xin and Fu Yuan turned around. Fu Yuan glanced at them and said, “You’re too late. The reed marsh has already been swept clean—all the fish are gone.”
Dachun and the others let out a chorus of groans.
“The rain just stopped. Who got here that fast?” Fu Ruyi asked.
“Granny Wei’s whole family. Before the rain even let up, her cow ran off, and her eldest son came out to look for it. He saw a school of fish being swept downstream, and they jumped onto the bridge as they crossed it,” Cao Xin said. “I heard the commotion and came over, but by then they were already hauling two sacks of fish back home.”
“Let’s go check the marsh anyway,” Dachun said. “Maybe more fish have drifted in.”
Seeing them head off, Fu Ruyi followed—but she didn’t go into the water. She only took the ropes coiled around her nephews’ waists, wrapping all five around her own, while the rope she’d brought was tied to a crooked willow tree nearby.
The six Fu and Cao siblings now had seventeen children between them, eight of whom were close in age to Fu Ruyi. As children, they’d been left at the old house under Father and Mother Fu’s care, practically growing up trailing behind Fu Ruyi. Living by the Yellow River with mountains at their backs, there was no stopping them from climbing hills and wading into water. To keep them alive, Fu Ruyi had taken to tying ropes around them like sheep on a lead whenever they went into the water after rain—a practice that had lasted over a decade.
The group spread out into the reed marsh, the splashing of their footsteps pattering through the water. Suddenly the water noise surged, and someone shouted: “Come quick, there’s a fish!”
The women standing on the bank holding sacks immediately leaned forward, craning their necks to peer into the water.
“Eldest brother, did you catch it?”
“I saw it, I saw it—the fish are coming this way!”
The rope was tangled around the reeds, and the line around Fu Ruyi’s waist suddenly pulled taut. She stepped toward the water’s edge, and the slackened rope whipped rapidly against the tangled reed stalks with a swishing sound.
“Got it!” Before the hemp rope tied to the willow tree could stretch to its limit, the big carp that had frantically dived into the grass was caught.
With a loud thump, everyone looked over. In the middle of the river, a large fish burst out of the water, then splashed back down and vanished from sight.
It was probably over ten catties—a shame they couldn’t catch it. The people on shore watched with envy but could do nothing about it.
“Oh! You caught a fish?” Fu Yuan arrived. “That one’s not small either—over six catties. Are there more fish in there? I’ll go wade around a bit too.”
“No, you’re not tied to a rope.” Fu Ruyi stopped him. “Call someone up, tie a rope around yourself, and then you can go down.”
“I don’t need it. I’m tall—even at the deepest point, the water only comes up to my thighs. I can grab the reeds just the same.” Fu Yuan waved his hand dismissively.
Fu Ruyi’s face turned cold. “Do you act like an uncle at all? If you go into the water without a rope today, they’ll follow your example tomorrow. I’m telling you, if anything happens to any of them in the future, it’ll be your fault.”
Fu Yuan felt a flash of irritation, but then he saw her expression—she was even angrier than he was. He looked at the nieces on both sides of the family standing on shore, who were also glaring at him, and his confidence instantly deflated.
“Liushun, come up and give me your rope,” he said, conceding.
Liushun refused. “Third Uncle, you’re getting on in years. You can’t handle the cold—the water’s freezing down there. Just don’t come in.”
“I’m only ten years older than you.”
“Ten years is plenty… Fish, fish! Second Brother, it’s heading your way!”
With that shout, no one had time to argue with Fu Yuan anymore. Everyone in the water and on shore perked up and stared into the river.
After a bout of splashing and chasing through the water, another big carp was herded to the shore and caught. It was a bit smaller than the previous one, with wounds on its body and patchy scales.
“Third Brother, scrape the scales off those two fish by the riverbank, then take them back and have Mother stew them,” Fu Ruyi instructed.
“Oh, all right,” Fu Yuan responded instinctively, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he remembered he was still angry with her.
“Anything else?” Fu Ruyi asked.
Fu Yuan glanced at the coils of rope around her waist, shook his head, picked up the two fish lying on the bank, stuffed them into a sack, and walked off. As the third uncle on both sides of the family, he truly wasn’t as devoted to the younger generation as she was as their youngest aunt.
After Fu Yuan left, Fu Ruyi’s attention fell entirely on the reed marsh. She worried that someone might untie the rope around their own waist when she wasn’t looking, and she also worried that someone might trip over the ropes and reeds and fall into the water.
After an unknown length of time, it started raining again. Fu Ruyi called everyone out of the water. “Let’s go. We’ve caught enough for two meals. We’ll head back first and come again once the rain stops.”
The people in the water obediently climbed ashore, and the group carried the three fish they’d caught last, striding quickly toward home through the fine, dense raindrops.
Before entering the village, Fu Ruyi glanced once more toward the opposite bank, wondering what the great beauty was doing.
The three fish caught last were divided among the three families. The children of each household carried their fish home, changed into dry clothes, and then gathered again at the old house.
Fourteen grandchildren from the four branches of the family, plus the five adults in the old house, ate the two big carp clean, broth and all, and a big pot of thick dough drop soup was also scraped to the bottom.
The rain came down harder again, and the sky was dark and gloomy. Fu Ruyi brought out a handful of candles, lighting up the crowded main hall brightly.
“Auntie, when the rain stops tomorrow, we’ll go catch fish again.”
“All right.”
“Grandma, when we catch fish, we’ll bring them over, and you can cook them for us.”
Mother Fu had already slipped outside to escape the noise of the grandchildren of all sizes filling the house. Hearing this, she called back a loud “All right!”—she wasn’t afraid of the grandchildren coming around too often, only afraid they wouldn’t come at all.
Over the next two days, whenever the rain let up, Fu Ruyi followed her nephews and nieces to the reed marsh to catch fish.
After the sky cleared, the ground was still wet and sticky, so no work could be done in the fields. Every household was idle, and Fu Ruyi spent each day running along the Yellow River with a big gang of nephews and nieces, leaving early and returning late. She had completely changed her usual ways, never once mentioning going across the river to find the great beauty—as if a heavy rain had made her forget the person entirely.
“Ruyi, Little Lou is here,” Mother Fu called out from the vegetable patch.
It was one of those rare evenings with a sunset glow. At that moment, all the light falling on the Fu household gathered beneath the persimmon tree, where a golden-haired, blue-eyed man stood with his arms crossed, radiating resentment. Fu Ruyi ran into the yard, her eyes lighting up, and that familiar flutter surged in her chest again.
She was fine when she didn’t see him, but the moment she did, her heart itched.
“You’re here? When did you arrive?” Fu Ruyi hurried over, making conversation. “Come look, I caught eight fish today, all crucian carp.”
“Having a good time, are you?” Lou Zhaoshui said flatly, though inside he felt a pang of jealousy—it seemed he was the only one suffering from lovesickness.
Fu Ruyi turned her head to glance at him, then dumped all the fish from her sack into a basin. “Wait for me a moment, I’ll go change my clothes.”
“It’s getting dark, I need to head back.” Lou Zhaoshui shook his head and started walking out. “Wash up before you change. Take your time, no rush.”
Fu Ruyi looked down at herself, covered in mud spots. Forget it, forget it—he’d already seen her like this anyway. She chased after him in the same clothes. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”
“No need.” Lou Zhaoshui refused.
But her legs were her own, and they only listened to her. She kept pace with him, following him out of the village and straight toward the pontoon bridge, apparently intending to see him across.
Lou Zhaoshui stopped abruptly. “Aren’t you the one who likes to talk? Why aren’t you saying anything? What are you smiling about?”
“I’m happy—you missed me, didn’t you?” Fu Ruyi said smugly. “It’s always me coming to find you. Finally, I’ve forced you to come looking for me.”
“Forced?” Lou Zhaoshui frowned in thought. She deliberately didn’t come to find him? He didn’t believe it. He’d heard from her mother that she’d been busy catching fish every day, leaving early and returning late—he didn’t think she’d had a moment to think of him.
“If you hadn’t come today, I would have come to find you tomorrow. The ground is half dry now, so it’s time to transplant the melon and vegetable seedlings. I did promise to help you plant your garden, remember?” Fu Ruyi offered as proof.
“It’s been five days since the rain stopped. Why didn’t you come find me?” Lou Zhaoshui was still hung up on this. “Did you get what you wanted and lose interest?”
“Nonsense! When did I ever succeed?” Ruyi cried out in protest, but she did feel a little guilty. It was true that she wanted to force him to come to her on his own initiative, but it was also true that she had gotten carried away playing. Now that the sky had cleared, she needed to plant hemp, the glutinous broomcorn millet at home hadn’t been sown yet, and the first batch of silkworms was about to spin their cocoons. A mountain of work awaited her, and she wanted to seize the little time she had left to play without restraint.
“If you miss me, you should come find me, just like today,” she told him. “When I walked in just now and saw you standing in my house, I was so happy. Every time you come to see me, it makes me happy. Don’t you want that?”
“You’re not lying to me?” Lou Zhaoshui eyed her suspiciously.
“I think about you every day.” Fu Ruyi pointed at the reed marsh not far away. “When it rains, I come here to catch fish. Every time I come, I look across to the other bank, to see if you’ll appear by the riverside. Time after time, my hopes were dashed, and I got angry. Why should I be the one missing you while you don’t miss me?”
“I did miss you,” Lou Zhaoshui said sullenly. On rainy days, there was nothing he could do—he couldn’t leave the house or cross the bridge. He had never felt time pass so painfully, hard to endure during the day and hard to endure at night. Every time he woke up in the middle of the night, he would listen for whether the rain outside had stopped, and the first thing he did when he opened his eyes in the morning was check whether the sun had come out.
Sigh! How was it that after meeting her, being alone felt so dull?
“Now I know. As soon as you came to see me, I knew.” Fu Ruyi giggled. “I’ll wake up tomorrow morning and go to the fields to dig up melon seedlings. You come pick me up tomorrow.”
“All right.” It was truly getting dark now, and Lou Zhaoshui walked toward the bridge. “You go back quickly. I’m not angry anymore.”
Ruyi tugged regretfully at her dirty clothes. What a perfect opportunity—if he had been willing to wait for her to change into a clean set of clothes, she would have had her arms around him by now.
When she got home, Fu Yuan informed her: “Stonecutter Dou from Ling Village came by. He wants you to go over tomorrow to write the epitaph. Do you want me to accompany you, or will you have your great beauty go with you?”
“The great beauty.”