Chapter 41: The Joy of Collecting Snails

From far away, Qin Yun saw a large black dog burst out from the field and sprint straight toward him.

Anyone else seeing this would be terrified, legs trembling.

After all, this black dog was enormous—waist-high, baring its teeth—who wouldn’t be spooked, especially as night was falling?

But Qin Yun didn’t flinch; he smiled, opened his arms wide, and the big black dog leapt forward, launching itself at his body.

Qin Yun embraced it tightly; the impact would normally have forced him to dodge to avoid straining his lower back, but now this much force had zero effect on him.

“Slurp… slurp…” The dog licked furiously along Qin Yun’s neck and face, making him push its head away repeatedly.

“Watch it—I hate dirt.”

The dog barked twice, as if saying, “Dirty or not, you’re still my master.”

That’s right—this dog was raised by Qin Yun, but two years ago he sent it to Zhoushan, entrusting it to his grandparents. Back then a small pup, it had now grown into a full-grown dog, no longer cute at all.

“Woof… woof…” The dog was ecstatic, running circles around Qin Yun nonstop.

Even in the field, it wouldn’t settle—darting to one end of the ridge, then sprinting to the other, boundless energy.

“Grandpa!”

The old man hoeing in the field looked up, then laughed.

“Little Yun’s here—did you come with your mom?”

“Yeah, Grandpa.”

Qin Yun’s grandfather put down his hoe and called him home.

“Come on, let’s go home—we’ve raised chickens and ducks this year, and we’re slaughtering one today. I told your grandma I wanted to eat it, but she refused, said we had to wait until you kids came.”

Qin Yun burst out laughing—yes, that was exactly the kind of thing his grandma would do.

Back home, Qin Yun tried to help, but everyone clearly didn’t want him touching anything—just told him to watch. He sighed, but seeing the two elders so delighted, he let them have their way.

They slaughtered the chicken, drained its blood, scalded its skin, plucked the feathers—his grandfather moved with practiced speed, and in moments, the hen that had been hopping moments ago now sat beside potatoes, steaming fragrantly, making mouths water.

Four people sat around the table, with the big black dog lying beside them.

The dog also had a large bowl in front of it; rural dogs weren’t pampered like city ones. Usually, they got the leftovers, and if the family was better off, they ate whatever the humans ate.

The dog’s massive size wasn’t without reason.

The bowl was completely filled with the five dishes on Qin Yun’s table—but thankfully, they were all before seasoning; otherwise, after eating that, the dog would be dog meat tomorrow.

Dogs can’t consume too much salt—their kidneys metabolize it extremely poorly. If they ate like humans, they’d die soon enough.

At the table, Qin Yun gnawed on a chicken wing while listening to his grandparents venting about his grievances, smiling, occasionally nodding along to satisfy their need to air their frustrations.

“Thank goodness you didn’t have kids—otherwise, you’d have been held back,” his grandma said.

Whose child, whose love—Qin Yun thought perhaps Song Ya’s explanation was identical to his, except for the name.

“Enough of that.” His grandfather tossed a chicken bone to the dog. “Didn’t know you two were coming today—tomorrow at low tide, we’ll go collect sea snails.”

“Great!” Qin Yun had loved collecting sea snails as a child, especially sesame snails.

Most outsiders probably never ate sesame snails. These snails grow in the sea, far cleaner than field snails or silk snails—no worries about parasites.

Most importantly, just boil them in plain water with a pinch of salt, and you get a dish bursting with freshness.

Qin Yun had always loved eating them—and collecting them.

After all, these snails aren’t farmed—every sesame snail on the market is picked by hand from the shore. Many people in Zhoushan earn money collecting them; during this season, sixty yuan per jin is common.

After dinner, his mother took care of chores, while he sat with his grandparents in the courtyard, enjoying the cool evening.

It was nearing October—the temperature was pleasant, though still reaching thirty degrees during the day; Zhoushan wouldn’t feel autumn until November. So until late October, sesame snails could still be collected at low tide.

“Little Yun, are you planning to settle down in Zhoushan?” His grandparents hadn’t studied much, but their concern for their grandchildren was genuine.

“No.” Qin Yun shook his head. “I’m planning to work for myself.”

“Start a business?” His grandma exclaimed. “That’s great—be your own boss, no need to bow to anyone.”

His grandfather disagreed: “If being a boss were that easy, everyone would be one.”

“That’s other people.”

Qin Yun smiled: “Not exactly a boss—I’ll just travel around, take ads for people, that kind of thing.”

Clearly, the two elders didn’t understand, but whatever their grandson said was right—more right than political correctness.

They chatted, reminisced, shared stories of his adventures, and before they knew it, it was time for the elders to sleep.

This was his grandparents’ ancestral home—huge in size. Considering his mother had four siblings, all could live here comfortably, so you knew how many rooms there were.

Before bed, Qin Yun ordered traditional rock-climbing gear and had it shipped to Zhoushan Fishery Dormitory.

…

“Second brother, this is Little Yun—oh my, you don’t even recognize him anymore…”

“Your grandson came to visit—you’re so happy you can’t stop grinning…”

Along the way, neighbors who saw Qin Yun all smiled warmly—some teased, some joked—until they spotted a middle-aged man crouching by the field, dressed sloppily.

“Ah Feng, eaten yet?” His grandfather greeted him.

The man’s hair was a messy nest, his clothes were autumn wear, over which he wore a suit. His eyes held a cautious, lost, melancholy, and utterly bewildered look.

“Second… Second Uncle… Oh… This is Xiao Fen…”

Hu Fen smiled and greeted him, introducing Qin Yun: “This is my son, Qin Yun—you saw him as a child, but he’s grown now, right?”

He looked at Qin Yun with cautious eyes, his smile flickering on and off.

“When… when I was a kid… didn’t expect Xiao Fen’s son… to be so… so big.”

Hu Fen whispered: “Hu Feng—he’s from the village… uh… you’ve probably seen him.”

Qin Yun nodded—he knew. The man was the village’s lifelong bachelor: raised on communal meals, mentally a bit off, but kind-hearted; whenever there was a wedding or funeral, he showed up first, without being asked.

In today’s internet terms, he was the village guardian.

He called out loudly: “Uncle Feng, long time no see.”

Hu Feng startled, then smiled, waving: “Long… long time no see.”

Soon, the three passed by; his gaze lingered long after they were gone, until he could no longer see them, then he crouched again by the roadside.

“Careful, Grandpa.” Qin Yun climbed down first, then watched carefully as his grandfather descended, making sure he didn’t slip, then helped his mother down safely.

After the tide receded, the seashore stones fully revealed themselves.

Sesame snails loved hiding in shaded crevices of rocks or clinging to wave-smoothed rock surfaces. They were no bigger than a fingernail, their brown-gray shells speckled with tiny white dots—but not all had them.

Normally, the sea breeze would bring a chill, but Qin Yun, now, felt only comfort and refreshment as the breeze brushed his face—unlike his parents, tightly wrapped against the cold, he seemed utterly out of place.

Along the rocky shore, they weren’t alone—many others were also collecting snails.

Perhaps this was the simple joy of those who lived solely by the sea.

Qin Yun traced the rocks, and one by one, sesame snails clung to the walls, waiting for the next tide—but this time, they were plucked by a drooling creature and dropped into a nearby bag.

In less than half an hour, Qin Yun felt his bag was already half-full.

He looked up—his mother and grandfather had split up, heading east and west. His mother was now chatting with a mother and daughter; Qin Yun recognized the younger girl—she’d been in elementary school with him, though he couldn’t recall her name.

He picked up his bag and walked over.

“Auntie.”

Qin Yun greeted her.

The middle-aged woman smiled at him: “Little Yun, you’ve gotten so handsome—when did you get back?”

“Just came back a couple days ago.”

Qin Yun replied, then looked at the woman beside her.

“Qin Yun, long time no see.” She smiled, nodded toward the side, and the two walked off together.

Qin Yun remembered—he said: “Lili, where are you based now? Zhoushan?”

Her name was Wang Lili, but that was her old alias—now she went by Wang Yicheng. Still, since they’d called her Lili since childhood, they kept using it.

“No, I’m in Hangzhou—just took a couple days of annual leave.”

Qin Yun nodded: “Hangzhou’s nice, but I heard housing prices there have dropped sharply these past two years.”

“Yeah, true—but I didn’t buy, couldn’t afford it.” Wang Lili wore jeans, was petite but beautiful. “What about you? Why are you back? Did you come with your wife?”

Qin Yun gave a bitter smile: “I’m divorced.”

Wang Lili’s face showed surprise, then she quickly said: “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine.” Qin Yun didn’t mind. “It’s not a big deal.”

For a while, with the sound of waves and wind, they walked in silence.

Qin Yun turned to look ahead, then asked: “What about you? Got a boyfriend?”

“Not thinking about it,” Wang Lili shook her head. “Can’t find anyone suitable.”

“You’re so pretty—I remember in elementary school, lots of boys liked you, even deliberately misbehaved to make you mad, hahaha.”

Wang Lili laughed: “Those boys were so naughty, always picking on girls—but I remember you were quiet, never joined them.”

“What could I do? I saw a few guys you punched until they cried—I was too scared.”

“Hahahaha…”

They chatted about elementary school memories, and before they knew it, they were nearly back to where they started.

“Add me on WeChat,” Wang Lili said, pulling out her phone.

Qin Yun nodded, scanned her QR code, and added a note.

“If you ever come to Hangzhou, let me know—I’ll treat you to dinner.”

“Got it.”

Soon, the mother and son headed one way, the mother and daughter the other.

"Lili is just too short, but she's still very pretty, right? Aren't you tempted? If you are, Mom can set you up—this girl grew up right under our eyes, we know her inside and out."

Qin Yun stared at his mother’s teasing yet half-serious expression, torn between laughter and frustration.

"Mom, I’m not in the mood for romance right now—I just got divorced."

"So what?" Hu Fen snorted. "If you find someone you like, grab them fast, or you’ll miss your chance."

Qin Yun didn’t want to dwell on the topic. "By the way, I told Lili about my divorce."

"It’s fine—I told her mom too. I don’t care about any of that. If anyone dares gossip about it in front of me, I’ll shut them up with a tongue-lashing."

"Mom, you’re awesome!"