Winter Time Rendering

Chapter 24: Chapter 8: Big Trouble

Typically, the closed fishing season falls between spring and summer, when fish reproduce and lay their eggs.

However, Yanlong Island had a unique local fish. Its scientific name was *Hualǐ*, or flower snakehead, but the locals usually called it the "spotted hound." It had mottled, blue-green skin, its flesh was tender with very few bones, and it was often used for fish fillets and steaks. Rumor had it there was even a subspecies suitable for aquariums. This fish was only found in the surrounding lakes and, crucially, it spawned in the winter. To protect it, the island’s fishing ban was during the winter.

The things were vicious. They were longer than common snakeheads and usually looked lethargic, but they would snap at you without warning. If he remembered correctly, the small scar on the web of Zhang Shutong’s thumb was from one of them biting him as he removed a hook.

The island was also home to several protected species, like a bird called the yellow ibis. The city museum had a taxidermied specimen, as the bird was now on the verge of extinction. Years ago, it was said you could still spot foxes, bears, and wild boars in the mountains.

But since these were just rumors, none of the kids had ever seen any of them.

Their interests were focused on fish.

But they were truly in it just for the fun of fishing. Though the island was remote, their generation enjoyed a decent standard of living. It wasn’t as extravagant as Gu Qiuyan’s family, but they never had to worry about food or clothes.

They weren’t poor, nor were they particularly hungry for fish. With those two major motivations gone, they neither sold nor ate what they caught. At most, they’d snap a photo of the fish in the bucket before packing up—to post online as proof, you could say—and then toss them all back into the water. The person who caught the most would treat everyone to sodas, and they’d ride home, laughing and joking the whole way.

That’s how kids are. To them, eating fish was more of a hassle than catching them. You’d have to lug your catch home, then you’d have to keep it alive for a few days, which meant finding a basin. Now that everyone lived in apartment buildings, you also had to think about how to kill and cook the fish. And if you cooked too much, you’d be stuck eating leftovers for days... It was nowhere near as simple and enjoyable as the act of fishing itself.

It was a lot like buying a pet as a child, bringing it home with sparkling eyes, only for the novelty to wear off in a few days, leaving your parents to deal with all the feeding and cleaning up after the cat, dog, or rabbit.

So, even though it was the closed season, since they were just having fun and were firm believers in catch-and-release, racking up an insane amount of good karma, the boys still dared to go fishing in secret. They always had a clear conscience about it, as long as they didn’t get caught.

For that same reason, while that Officer Xiong had spoken sternly just now, he wasn’t about to get truly serious with a bunch of kids. Otherwise, he would have arrested Zhang Shutong on the spot.

It was just that the two incidents had coincided, making the officer suspect Zhang Shutong was pulling his leg again with an excuse that was an insult to his intelligence.

Zhang Shutong was completely innocent, but he had to pay for his past mischief. Resigned, he played the part of the lone wolf once more and headed to the "forbidden zone" to check things out.

Along the way, he saw food carts selling snacks. The island was famous for its fish and shrimp, and the local snacks reflected that.

Take the fried shrimp cakes, for example. Fresh lake shrimp were caught daily, each barely bigger than a fingernail. They didn’t need to be shelled—they were just marinated in saltwater, mixed with shredded carrots, shredded potatoes, chopped scallions, and diced onions, then combined with flour, water, and egg to form a batter. This was deep-fried in a wok until golden brown. A single bite revealed a crispy outside, a tender inside, and a mouthwatering aroma.

Come to think of it, he had eaten this for breakfast today—that is, eight years in the future. In that timeline, Zhang Shutong had rushed to the pier early in the morning to catch the ferry, not even having time for a meal. He’d bought a few shrimp cakes on the island to stave off his hunger. They cost ten yuan for two, but back in this time, they were only five.

He bought one and continued on, the shrimp cake dangling from his mouth. It wasn’t that he could never get tired of them, nor was he particularly craving one. It was more that he figured he wouldn’t have time for dinner, and since he had a pack of tissues in his pocket, he didn’t have to worry about getting his hands greasy. He just saw one on his way and bought it.

Zhang Shutong had always been someone with few material desires. Part of it was his nature, but it was also due to his experiences over the years.

During a few of his rewinds, he’d had the opportunity to buy winning lottery tickets. He couldn’t make a huge fortune, but winning a few thousand was definitely possible. If he had intentionally pursued it and bought tickets several times, he could have amassed a tidy sum. But his thought at the time was, ’What’s the point of earning so much money?’

He couldn’t spend it anyway. He couldn’t go traveling, had no plans to buy a car, and his phone and computer were good enough. He had even gradually given up his only hobby, fishing. The only big-ticket items left were buying a house and getting married. The former couldn’t be solved by winning the lottery a few times, and the latter wasn’t something he should be considering.

It wasn’t a case of "a mind free of women makes a master fisherman."

He was pretty popular in high school, though for some reason, mainly with the girls. He wasn’t sure if that counted as having luck with the ladies... but Zhang Shutong had indeed received a few love letters. And it was only "a few" because confessing on paper was already out of fashion by their time.

Everyone was in a group chat for their grade. Sometimes, right after performing some "act of heroism" thanks to a rewind, he’d get home to find screenshots from classmates on his phone. ’Is this you, the guy they’re talking about on the school’s confession page?’ they’d ask.

In his memory, this sort of thing happened quite often. Perhaps it didn’t actually happen that many times; his memory had just become skewed. Under the influence of the rewinds, he often experienced the same event several times over. If you were to ask him how he felt about being confessed to, the truth was, it was only the exhaustion brought on by the temporal displacement.

This was one of the reasons why he thought he’d been quite popular back then—

Sometimes he’d open his social media page and find virtual gifts from people he didn’t recognize. On his birthday, he’d get well wishes from classmates whose names he couldn’t place. He would reply to each one earnestly, feeling quite pleased. ’I only had three close friends in middle school,’ Zhang Shutong had thought back then, ’but now in high school, I have friends everywhere. I’ve obviously taken a huge step forward in my social life.’