Chapter 4: Who Owes Whom?

Zhou Andong poured half a bowl of liquor, took a sip, then picked up a dumpling and bit into it, saying with satisfaction, “Dumplings with liquor—each sip brings more fortune.”

“Dongzi, pour me two taels—I’ll have a drink with you.” Zhou Xiao’s hands gripped the quilt as he tried to sit up, but Yuan Liying pushed him back down.

“You just finished your medicine—no drinking.”

Zhou Xiao was furious but had no choice; he rolled another cigarette and began smoking. Zhou Andong frowned, wanting to Quan , but gave up—he couldn’t stop him. His father’s smoking and drinking were deliberate: he wanted to die sooner, not burden the family.

So now, all he had to do was earn money: first, to improve the family’s life; second, to give his father enough to regain hope in living, to go to a major hospital in Beijing—perhaps he could still stand again. If that failed, go abroad; as long as there was a sliver of hope, he’d give everything.

Zhou Anqin went outside to light the kang in the side room, then returned to find Zhou Andong had finished eating and was already swiftly washing the food box.

At that moment, Zhou Anbei’s voice rang out from the yard: “Mom, Big Sister, bring the big tub—I caught a ton of fish!”

Zhou Anning dashed out, followed by the kid’s amazed exclamation: “Wow, so many fish!”

In the yard, Zhou Anqin and Zhou Anbei tipped a urea sack upside-down into a large laundry tub—crucian carp, carp, silver carp, and tiny wheat-ear fish plopped out in a clatter, filling the tub completely.

“Big brother!” Zhou Anbei called. The boy was sixteen, dark and thin, half a head shorter than his peers.

“These two crucian carp are big,” Zhou Andong crouched down. “The big one’s over four jin, the smaller one’s at least three and a half.”

Zhou Anbei grinned. “Last night I broke a hole in the Dong River bend, set the net. This morning I checked—only a few tiny wheat-ears. I wasn’t satisfied, so I walked two or three hundred meters upstream, set another hole, and when I pulled the net tonight, it was full.”

Yuan Liying came out and pointed at the largest crucian carp. “Xiao Bei, take this big one to your grandpa.”

“Dongzi’s back,” Grandpa Zhou Xiaode, wearing a cotton cap and a coat stuffed with cotton, shuffled into the yard with his hands tucked in his sleeves. “I heard Xiao Bei yelling from inside.”

Zhou Xiaode had dark skin, thick lips, small eyes—looked simple-minded, but Zhou Andong knew: this uncle was a monkey in disguise, always looking to take advantage.

“Oh, you really caught a lot!” Zhou Xiaode bent over, eyeing the fish, then pointed at the two crucian carp. “Your sister came with her kids, your brother’s girlfriend’s here too—no food at home. I’ll take these two crucian carp back and stew them; that’ll be enough for one meal.”

Xiao Bei was flustered; Xiao Qin glared, cheeks puffed with anger.

Yuan Liying’s face darkened. “Big brother, there are only two crucian carp—I planned to give one to Dad and Mom.”

Zhou Xiaode waved his hand. “Give them two silver carp instead. These crucian are too big—they won’t finish them, waste.”

“We’re saving these for the New Year,” Zhou Anqin muttered.

Zhou Xiaode glared. “New Year’s still a month away—have Xiao Bei go fish again tomorrow.”

Zhou Andong said, “Uncle, why don’t you send Zhou Anbin or Zhou Anlei to fish in the river bend?”

Zhou Xiaode snorted. “It’s freezing out there.”

Zhou Andong laughed bitterly. “So your two sons know it’s cold, but Xiao Bei doesn’t? He’s just stupid, right?”

Zhou Xiaode flushed with rage. “It’s just two fish! Look at your whole family—faces like kicked dogs, showing off for whom? If you’re willing to throw away family ties over two lousy fish, then I’ve got nothing to say. You owe me a hundred yuan—pay it all back, principal and interest, seventy yuan total.” He stuck out his hand. “Hand it over!”

Looking at Zhou Xiaode’s shameless face, Zhou Andong sighed silently. When his father had the accident, his aunt Zhou Xiaoping and his old aunt Zhou Xiaoli, along with his stingy uncle Zhou Xiaozheng, each gave a hundred yuan and took turns staying at the hospital.

Remember, back then, a regular worker’s salary was under sixty yuan—a hundred yuan was half a year’s income for a rural family.

But this uncle? His own brother got hit by a car, nearly died. He never showed up at the hospital. After returning home, he lived right next door—and still never came by. Old Master flew into a rage, beat his eldest son with a stick, snatched a hundred yuan, and forced him to deliver it to their house.

Zhou Andong said, “Forget whether I owe you money—let’s settle other accounts first.”

Zhou Xiaode barked, “Besides your family owing me money, what other accounts?”

“Come on, Uncle, your memory isn’t that bad. But no matter—I’ll jog your memory.”

Zhou Andong lit a cigarette. “I won’t mention anything before Dad’s accident—let’s start from 1987. March 2nd, you borrowed half a sack of salt. April 17th, two jin of corn flour. 19th, a bowl of soy sauce. Next day, half a bowl of vinegar. 20th, two cloves of garlic. 26th, a bowl of bean oil...”

“Wait!” Zhou Xiaode, nervous, said, “Brat, don’t make things up. I did borrow stuff from you, but not this much!”

“Uncle, this isn’t my imagination—Mom kept a little notebook. Look”—Zhou Andong gestured—“this thick, nearly full. I’d flip through it sometimes. Recently, I tallied it up—these years, what you borrowed from us is worth at least eight hundred yuan. Shouldn’t you pay it back? Oh, and I won’t charge interest.”

Zhou Xiaode snorted. “No proof—you better not lie, or I’ll sue you for defamation.”

“Oh?” Zhou Andong sneered. “You even know the word ‘defamation’? Watch too many Hong Kong and Taiwan tapes, huh? Fine—I’ll go get the ledger. You can read it yourself.”

Seeing Zhou Andong actually head for the ledger, Zhou Xiaode cried out, slapped his forehead. “Oh! I just remembered—I’ve got something urgent at home!” He turned and bolted.

Yuan Liying walked into the outer room, face grim, and saw Zhou Andong crouched by the stove, muffled laughter escaping through his hands.

Yuan Liying rolled her eyes, lifted the curtain, stepped inside—and couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

The little girl stood aside, eyes wide, staring at her big brother. “What are you laughing at? You’re such a fool.”

Zhou Andong’s laughter died. He grabbed the girl as she turned to run, slapped her butt, then dragged her inside.

“Brat, see what I’ll do to you.”

“Mom! Help! Big brother’s hitting a kid!”

“...”