Great Shun, Jianghuai Marshlands, Righteous Prosperity City.
The polished bluestone slabs reflected the moonlight like mirrors, with fallen leaves swirling on the ground without piling up.
The wind surged from the surface of the Wanli River, flowing away from the rooftops and seeping into the gaps of doors.
Like the wind rustling the weeds, bending them yet keeping them standing, a boy, who seemed lifeless inside a dirt house, suddenly showed signs of life.
Hungry! So hungry! Liang Qu opened his eyes, out of focus, feeling as if a knife twisted in his stomach.
He was curled up on the wooden bed. “Liang Qu, is that what he’s called too? His mother died in childbirth, and his father died of a cold last month. What a standard start! Just a boat and a house.”
“No, wait, the boat was stolen too. Scabby-head Zhang bullied me because I'm young. Damn, he looks hideous. Did a toad become a spirit?” Forcing himself to endure hunger, Liang Qu tried to digest the jumbled fragments of memories, his expression dazed.
The Jianghuai Marshlands, supporting thousands of fishermen, and now he was one of those small fishermen?
Dirty yellow water, piercing sirens, the burning pain in his nasal membrane from the strong light shining on the water surface, casting huge bright spots.
It was not a dream.
He really drowned trying to save someone… Yes, burning the midnight oil to rush a submission, leaving him with no energy for anything.
When he went into the water, it became crystal clear.
"Too bad I didn't have kids; otherwise, I'd get extra points on their entrance exams, giving them a head start in life."
Liang Qu collapsed on the bed, feeling a profound fatigue rising from the depths of his heart, as if the past twenty-some years were as ephemeral as the marks of fallen autumn leaves.
Nothing gained, nothing good, nothing achieved.
Life seemed utterly pointless.
Gruu~ Gruu~.
Alright, perhaps life is meaningful after all, because this hunger is just unbearable.
Hunger drove Liang Qu to seek survival.
The crossing fixed his high-degree myopia, clearing away the water mist, and everything around became exceptionally clear.
However, scanning his surroundings revealed only a bed, a stove, and an empty jar.
The deceased memories attacked again.
“Get lost! Bad luck star! And you still think of borrowing grain? My six kids can’t even have their fill.” “You know, the autumn tax is closing in.”
No, I must find some water.
The constant stomach pain stimulated his brain nerves.
Liang Qu grimaced and got off the bed, struggling to support himself against the earthen wall as he made his way outside.
Just walking a few steps left him gasping for breath, forcing him to sit on the threshold to rest.
“This is too weak.” Liang Qu broke out in cold sweat, unable to unfold his palm.
He couldn’t believe the weakness of this body.
Could it be that he would die again just after arriving? Icy fear gripped his heart like a giant hand.
The thought that having died once would make you unafraid of it was false; humans' fear of death was etched in their genes.
Clatter-clatter.
The sound of a wagon wheel rolling over the bluestone bricks echoed with its unique creaking.
Someone was there! His heart almost jumped out of his throat.
“Just ignore him, go around.” “Bad luck, don't let a starving ghost cling to you.” He couldn’t make out what the few drivers were discussing, only that the sound of wheels was fading away.
Whatever words he had stuck in his throat, the street's infinite darkness only made a coldness creep from the depths of his heart, chilling every single drop of blood in his body.
He thought of finding a well, but there was no strength left to move even a step.
“Ah Shui? Why are you sitting here?” Ah Shui, who? Me? Turning his head, he saw a dark-skinned man standing next to him.
Liang Qu blurted out, "Uncle Chen?" Memory told him the guy in front was Chen Qingjiang, his neighbor.
Right, I am Ah Shui.
Both lives’ names were similar, for the 'Qu' character has water, so the villagers called him Ah Shui.
Liang Qu gathered his breath, no longer having the energy to ask for anything due to the previous incident, replying, “I got tired from walking, sat to rest. How about you, Uncle?”
"Just got back from selling fish in town."
“Town?”
“Yeah, with the fish plump and selling without fuss these days, I had to head to town. It’s better than losing at the fish market; without renting their boat, I can sell to whoever I want. But why are you resting at the doorway? Aren’t you afraid of catching a cold?”
Chen Qingjiang moved closer, shocked by the sight of Liang Qu’s frail figure.
How could he be like this? Alarmed, he remembered that Liang Qu’s father had passed, and the house probably ran out of food.
Instinctively, he reached into his pocket, only to hesitate.
Inside was a greasy meat pancake, earned after his ten-mile trip to sell fish in town for an extra eight coins, bought especially for his crying son.
It wasn't cooled yet, nestled warm against his chest.
To give it away now, how could he not feel a pang of heartache?
“Daddy, why doesn’t Brother Shui play with me anymore?” “Because Brother Shui’s daddy left, and he’s busy." “Why did he go?” “...”
Chen Shun was Chen Qingjiang’s eldest son, only six, who loved playing with Liang Qu.
Chen Qingjiang recollected how, at the same age, Liang Qu sought his company, finding the shadows overlapping in his heart.
Sighing, Chen Qingjiang took out the pancake, unwrapping the greasy paper.
“Ah Shui, eat up.”
“Uncle! This…?” Liang Qu's Adam's apple bobbed as despair turned to unexpected salvation.
Though he wished to express something, the rich aroma was so tempting.
He tremblingly accepted it with both hands.
His cracked lips bled fresh, the iron taste mixing with the fragrance of wheat and meat fat.
He stuffed it into his mouth in one go.
The little saliva he had left was worked out to soak the pancake, fueling his stomach.
With a few swallows, strength returned, and he quickly gave his thanks.
“Just eat, then hurry home, stop wandering here.”
“Mm-hmm…”
Chen Qingjiang brushed off his pants and left, his heart feeling even heavier.
It was tough enough now; come winter, wouldn’t it be harsher? Should he discuss with Ah Di to share some grains? But didn’t Erbao’s sickness just take a toll…?
The straw sandals rustled against the dirt path, carrying him away.
“Phew, that was delicious!” Liang Qu finished the last bite, looking at Chen Qingjiang’s back, not finding the words to shout.
In recent years, with peace and no disasters, a stone of rice cost about a thousand coins.
Uncle Chen’s household had five mouths to feed: an elder, two young ones, a wife—each season required at least four stones of rice, which came to about thirty-three coins a day just for rice.
Spring fishing, autumn catching, summer raising, winter fighting—Chen earned around eighty coins a day in the fall when fish were plentiful.
Sounds alright, but it's not nearly enough.
Clothing, salt, vegetables all cost money, and the fishing tax was even steeper than farm taxes.
Add to this various fees; without mentioning distant ones, just the dock’s berthing fee was two coins a day—four during the flood season—and the income dwindled in winter.
If illness struck...
Chen Qingjiang was an experienced fisherman, and his wife, Ah Di, was diligent.
Together, they managed not to fare badly.
But hardship struck when their little son fell seriously ill, turning steady days into strained ones.
That very pancake, likely squeezed out with difficulty for his son, became a lifesaving gift to him.
Truly, adversity reveals true sentiments.
The night sky was a dazzling tapestry of stars.
A marvelous sight, far from the hazy little city he knew, constantly reminding him—this was an entirely different world.
Liang Qu leaned against the wall, loneliness surging like a tide.
At present, he knew nothing of fishing, had no means of living.
He couldn't figure out how he could survive, let alone brashly speak of repayment.
As for making a fortune with modern techniques?
A glance over the empty street showed many houses with stepped gable walls, a typical design where the wall was higher than the eaves.
This meant the current era's productivity has developed enough to replace early plankstone constructions with bricks, so the eaves no longer needed to extend outwards to guard walls against rain.
Instead, for fire prevention, they built fireproof gable walls.
To broadly utilize brick structures, Great Shun’s productivity was at least comparable to the Ming and Qing dynasties of his previous world.
The original body dwelled at the lowest society stratum, having seen no good things, but Liang Qu knew that stuff like white sugar, refined salt, horseshoes, steelmaking, soap was basically unattainable for him.
Moreover, this world was no simple one.
Memories mentioned a formidable man in the neighboring town, capable of punching through person-high granite—a feat not of ordinary people.
But even if it was attainable...
Ancient society cherished male heirs for a reason.
Consider the boat that was taken—without a strong labor hand in the family, one could be bullied to death.
If a boat could be taken so easily, how about hard-earned money? In ancient times, an orphan's survival was as tough as climbing the sky.
If not sold off, they were left to die.
Damn it, why a fishing start, and one where even the boat is stolen? Let it be a farmer instead!
Difficult, difficult, difficult!
Just then, a vast, majestic aura suddenly filled Liang Qu's mind.
An infinite sea of memories churned as if he had eaten a whole pack of peppermint candy in summer, leaving him utterly refreshed.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's happening? Liang Qu was at a loss.
Fortunately, the sensation came swiftly and vanished just as quickly.
Once the turmoil in his mind settled, it was as if the clouds parted to reveal a clear sky.
A uniquely shaped cauldron appeared in his mind, adorned with endless intricate patterns that left him dumbfounded.
Its name was—Marsh Cauldron!
(End of Chapter)