Although Dongting Lake is a vast body stretching nearly a thousand miles, with numerous main and tributary streams, even reaching the sea, it still couldn't cut through towns or cities, straight into the marketplace.
Forget the Mansion City—even the county seat was some twenty or thirty miles away. Without horses or carts, fisherfolk couldn't dream of bringing their catch to town to sell.
All they could do was set up stalls at the waterfront fish market, supplying residents living nearby, or waiting for merchants and restaurants from town to come buy.
Xu Yang stepped into the fish market, picked a spot, but before he could set down his fish basket, a group approached. The leader was a burly man, with coarse hair and whiskers.
"Yo, Old Xu, not dead yet?"
A routine opener; Xu Yang didn't mind. He put the basket down, smiled apologetically at the leader and said, "It's all thanks to your blessings, Seventh Master!"
"Haha!"
The man called Seventh Master chuckled, then glanced at the fish basket by his feet: "Any softshell turtles today?"
"Thanks to your luck, Seventh Master, I managed to catch one by chance."
Xu Yang pulled out a softshell turtle tied with a grass rope from the basket and handed it to one of the men next to the big fellow.
"I knew it, Old Xu always gets the best turtles!"
The big man smiled, then asked, "How much you selling it for?"
Xu Yang smiled: "If you like it, Seventh Master, just take it."
"Hey now, business is business—goods for money, that's the Goldfish Gang rule. Who dares not follow it?"
The big man waved his hand; a subordinate tossed a small string of copper coins to Xu Yang. Then he reached out and said, "Today's stall fee, plus this month's pocket money, makes thirty big coins total!"
Xu Yang said nothing, took the small string of coins, then rummaged in his chest for a pouch, poured out a dozen fishy, damp coins, counted them back and forth a few times before handing them over.
The big man watched, smiled again: "If everyone was as quick as you, Old Xu, I'd have an easy time."
Xu Yang just smiled apologetically.
The big man didn't linger, waved: "Alright, won't hold up your business. San Niang's just got a new batch of dry yellow fish—that's your favorite, Old Xu. Don't forget to swing by after closing."
"Yes, yes…"
Xu Yang saw them off with a smile, then drew out his little stool and began hawking his wares in a rasping voice.
Wherever people gather, there's a Martial World—this little fish market is no exception. Besides officials collecting dock fees, there are bullies here, too—charging stall fees and a monthly pocket money, on top of official taxes. Both sides squeeze hard, wringing people dry.
Xu Yang, a solitary man, fares better. But for those fisherfolk with families, every month brings the same squeeze, with daily expenses for food and fuel; saving anything would be a miracle—not owing debts is lucky.
And if disaster strikes, or luck runs bad—no fish, or illness—then losing everything, selling off kids, isn't impossible.
Working hard to get ahead—wishful thinking!
Chen Qi was just such a gang boss, a Goldfish Gang leader in Linyang city, ruling the fish market, throwing his weight around.
Don't be fooled by his easy manner now; if you can't pay the pocket money, he turns wolf, swallowing bones, forcing families to their end—so many have been ruined over the years.
Luckily, Xu Yang was alone, with expert fishing skills, so he could cope.
...
"Big Sis, look at these fish, caught just last night, guaranteed fresh—ten big coins!"
"Who are you calling big sis? You're old enough to be my dad!"
"Sorry, sorry, miss, look at these fish—"
"They're not even breathing, and you call them fresh? No thanks!"
"Three coins, or I'm leaving!"
"Three coins, really can't do it. How about eight coins, and I clean and gut it for you!"
"Alright, alright, eight coins then, and throw in that little one too."
"..."
Life was hard for common folk, and especially so for the fishing families. Living by the lake, fish and shrimp sold dirt cheap, a basket didn't fetch much; sometimes, it wouldn't sell at all.
Luckily, Xu Yang's luck was good today. Most of his fish basket sold, the scraps picked over bundled off at a bargain. He made thirty-five copper coins total.
Xu Yang packed the money, slung his basket, and went to other stalls to buy some daily necessities.
Fish may sell cheap, but it was still meat—nutrition wasn't lacking.
But one couldn't live off fish alone; firewood, rice, oil, and salt were essential. Especially salt—with no salt, a person loses strength, can't do labor, gets sick.
So, even if fish prices were cheap, fisherfolk had no choice—they had to sell fish to buy all the basics.
That's why Xu Yang endured the Goldfish Gang's extortion. If not, with his skills, he could hide out in Dongting Lake and neither officials nor gang could find him—much less collect taxes or pocket money.
He'd bought necessities, spent most of his fish money, and didn't take the rest home. Instead, he went to a small tavern.
"Yo, Old Xu!"
"Here to drink two bowls again today?"
"Living easy, all on your own."
"Not like us, dragging a whole family—tough life!"
There were already plenty of customers in the tavern. Seeing Xu Yang, a few familiar faces joked with him.
Xu Yang didn't mind, found a spot near the door, sat down, and called out to the waiter: "Two bowls of dry yellow wine, a plate of fennel beans, a plate of fried eggs, and half a chicken."
"Sure thing!"
Soon, food and drink were brought over.
Xu Yang cradled his wine bowl, took a careful sip, then picked up his chopsticks, eating and drinking like an old drunk.
Does he love liquor?
No, not really.
But he couldn't not come.
Because the tavern's owner, San Niang, is Chen Qi's mistress.
As a Goldfish Gang boss, Chen Qi rules the fish market, but he has to play it straight—he couldn't openly snatch or extort cash from the fisherfolk.
Because the fisherfolk are Goldfish Gang's capital—robbing them means stealing from the gang, disrupting the market, breaking gang rules. No matter how bold Chen Qi was, he wouldn't risk that.
But if he couldn't do it openly, there were plenty of shady ways around—there's always a trick. They skirt the rules, collecting 'tributes' under various guises, squeezing money.
Like this tavern: After selling his fish, Xu Yang always had to spend his leftover money here to guarantee his safety.
Otherwise, a solitary man with savings would be carved up sooner or later.
So it goes. But the taste is bitter—the wine is so watered down it's like water on water, the side dishes barely enough, and the chicken served missing chunks…
Even a crooked shop isn't this crooked!
But Xu Yang said nothing—just ate and drank quietly in his corner.
At least it's food—better than the gambling dens and brothels that take everything and give nothing.
The watered wine may have no flavor, but enough of it gets to the head. Soon, the room was full of loud boasting and banter, and the talk turned to Xu Yang.
"Old Xu, you're fifty-eight this year, right? Incredible—still kicking!"
"Nah, he's older than Old Zhang by half a decade—forty-something, maybe fifty."
"To be honest, I envy you—a full belly and nobody else to feed. Not like us…"
"If I were you, I wouldn't bother with drinking—straight to the back alley for fun."
"Hey now, wrong topic—don't you know he was hurt down there years back…"
"Hahaha! No wonder he's never married, even after all these years."
"Shame—I thought about matching him up with Old Yu's widow…"
"You'd dare offer that old scallion?"
"Hahaha!"
The crowd laughed and sneered, taking digs at his expense.
Xu Yang ignored them, kept to himself, drinking quietly in his corner.
And so, one bowl of wine dragged on till afternoon, and Xu Yang paid the bill, left the market with his fish basket.
...
Back on his boat, he set down the basket, pushed off toward the lake, soon returning to familiar waters.
But before he could sit and rest…
"Yang!"
A call echoed from the distance.
Xu Yang's eyes narrowed, his movements froze, his body beneath the raincoat tensed sharply. But then he relaxed, turned to look in the direction of the voice.
He saw, far off, a large black canopy boat gliding over, an old man standing at the bow, two young men rowing behind.
"..."
Xu Yang was silent for a while, but at last he sailed over to meet them.
The boats came alongside. The old man at the bow didn't hesitate; he stepped right onto Xu Yang's boat: "What, don't recognize me? It's me, Cheng. Hey, you two, call Uncle!"
"So, it's Cheng."
Xu Yang looked at the old man, replied with a cold tone, then got straight to the point: "What do you want?"
"Let's sit and talk, let's sit."
The old man grinned, tugged Xu Yang toward the cabin, the two youths followed, climbing inside.
Inside the cabin, the old man glanced about, then turned his gaze back to Xu Yang, chuckling: "Yang, you're old now. Well, so am I—we're at that age. Back then…"
The man started in with small talk; Xu Yang, privately suspicious, still didn't interrupt, patiently went along.
This man was Zhang Cheng, a distant cousin. They'd barely kept in touch for years, little kinship left. Him showing up now—no one would believe it's nothing.
Sure enough, after the chatting, Zhang Cheng explained: "Yang, when Uncle was still alive, he told my father to get you a wife—keep the family line going. But then…well, never mind. Er!"
He signaled one of the young men, pointed to him and told Xu Yang: "From now on, my second son will take your surname, call you father, and support you!"
"Uh…"
"What are you waiting for? Call him father!"
Xu Yang frowned, about to speak, but Zhang Cheng smacked the young man on the back of the head.
The earnest, dull-faced youth stepped forward, dropped to his knees in front of Xu Yang and called out, "Father!"
"..."
Xu Yang kept silent.
Zhang Cheng smiled, squinting as he said to Xu Yang: "Yang, this kid's slow witted, but he's a good worker—from now on he's your helper, supports you, carries on the line, alright?"
"..."
Xu Yang stared at him, silent for a while, then finally nodded: "Alright."
"Hm?"
Seeing Xu Yang agree so easily, Zhang Cheng's eyes tightened, but he quickly recovered, clapped his hands: "Settled then. Er, go get your—"
"No rush!"
Xu Yang stopped him: "This is important. We should find a few witnesses. Tomorrow, let's put on a feast, gather a few elders, get them to witness."
Seeing Xu Yang so earnest, Zhang Cheng blinked, then grinned: "Good, good, Yang, always thinking it through—let's do it. I'll arrange the feast."
"Right!"
"..."
After a moment, Xu Yang stood at the bow, watching Zhang Cheng and his sons leave, then hunched his back, turning slowly into the cabin.
Inside, Xu Yang sat in silence for a while, then reached down and pulled open the floorboard.
Underneath was a hidden compartment, holding a sharp knife—a forearm's length, blade white as snow, shimmering in the dim light.
Xu Yang took the knife wordlessly, picked up a whetstone, and sat in the cabin silently grinding the blade.