Chapter Four: Gathering Snails, Catching Loaches

Ping’an Village.

The sky was just beginning to lighten...

Without even eating breakfast, the entire family of Lu Kun set out, fully equipped. Fine threads of rain drifted down from above, slipping into their collars and sending a chill through their bodies. At home, they owned only a single, tattered rain cape. Lu Kun hurried to drape it over his wife.

After all, ever since their youngest son was born and then lost so young, Liu Liping’s health had only withered further. Catching snails was a small matter; what truly mattered was not letting her body break down. That would be a loss far outweighing any gain.

Their two daughters, the eldest and second, were doing well enough. Even at their tender age, they were sensible children, always helping with chores around the house. Though a little thin, their frames were sturdy and their spirits high.

In these times, in such a poor and remote place, it wasn’t as though any child grew up plump and rosy-cheeked; most were sallow and skinny.

Lu Kun carried the family’s only large wooden bucket in his left hand and their second and final wooden basin on his right arm. The bucket was manageable, weighing just over ten pounds when empty, but the basin was dauntingly heavy. It had been handed down from Lu Kun’s parents, and no one quite knew what kind of wood it was made from. Years of holding water had only made it heavier. Lu Kun reckoned the basin must weigh at least thirty pounds.

Thankfully, despite being a father of three, and somewhat worn in body, Lu Kun was still in his prime. He could shoulder one or two hundred pounds of corn without blinking.

His two daughters were bubbling with excitement. In their minds, rainy days were meant for play. Now the whole family was heading out to catch snails and loaches—it felt just like the older children going on a picnic under their teacher’s guidance at the village school, a rare and special treat.

The elder daughter led her sister, forging ahead as they skipped and chased after low-flying dragonflies.

“Slow down! Watch your step!” Liu Liping called after them, waving the net Lu Kun had fashioned.

Though not the best at farm work, Lu Kun was gifted at crafting clever little items. The wooden sandals they wore, the brooms and dustpans they used—all were made by his hands.

He remembered when their youngest, Haohao, had just turned a month old, Lu Kun had carved a delicate slingshot for him. Who could have known that the precious boy, so dear to his heart, would leave them so soon? Every time he thought of it, his nose stung with sorrow.

Sweat beaded across Liu Liping’s brow. Lu Kun rolled up his sleeves, wanting to wipe it away for her, but she gently brushed his hand aside with a laugh.

“It’s nothing. What if someone sees? That wouldn’t look proper.”

“What’s the harm in caring for your wife? Let them say what they will. Besides, who’s out wandering at this hour? Even if we were up to something here, who would see?” Lu Kun muttered, lips pursed.

Liu Liping rolled her eyes, unwilling to indulge his usual irreverence.

Perhaps it was the thin gruel he’d had the previous night, or the fact that he hadn’t relieved himself since waking—Lu Kun suddenly felt a pressing need. Not the least bit embarrassed, since only his wife was nearby and the girls were already out of sight, he simply stepped to the side of the path and dealt with his business.

Liu Liping said nothing; after seven or eight years of marriage, there weren’t many surprises left. She could probably conjure a perfect image of him in her mind, eyes closed or not.

What did amuse her, though, was Lu Kun’s childish insistence on swinging his member to form a circle with the stream, which made her laugh out loud.

“Did I marry a man who’ll never grow up?” she mused inwardly.

The rain trickled down his neck, and Lu Kun shivered, quickly finishing and tucking himself away.

“Let’s hurry. Wouldn’t want the girls to get lost and start crying!”

Liu Liping, a diligent woman, had her mind set on gathering the snails as soon as possible. She had no intention of lingering to banter.

“Alright, let’s catch up. Here, give me your net—I’ll carry it so you can take it easy.”

Lu Kun, seeing the sweat on his wife’s face as she carried the hand-made net, felt a pang of tenderness.

“Both your hands are full. How will you help? Just look after yourself,” Liu Liping replied, knowing he already had his hands full with the bucket and basin.

“I’ll carry it in my teeth, then. Just hand me the handle.”

“Hurry, the girls have already turned that corner,” Liu Liping said, quickening her pace.

“Ah, you never know how to enjoy yourself,” Lu Kun grumbled, but hurried after her.

...

When it came to catching snails, the best place was always someone else’s pond—plentiful and easy. But Lu Kun intended to sell their haul. Scavenging someone else’s pond wouldn’t do, especially with the whole family in tow; if they were caught, it would bring shame.

So today, he was leading his family to the paddy fields to gather snails. No need to make a laughingstock of themselves.

In this area, the land was mostly hilly and sandy; paddy fields existed, but were scattered and small. Their destination today was a spot known as “Urine Pond’s Mouth”—which, roughly translated, referred to a patch with just enough water to count as rice field.

The soil in these fields wasn’t black, but a dark red, suitable only for rice, and even then, the yield was meager. Lu Kun knew well enough—there wasn’t enough potassium in the earth, and farmers’ supply of wood ash just couldn’t make up for it. The fields would only become fertile once potassium fertilizer was widely available, but that wouldn’t happen until after 2000, in his memory.

Most of the rice here had already been harvested; what little remained was mostly ruined—moldy or sprouting where it stood.

The rain had let up in the night, now just a fine drizzle, and the water in the fields was clear enough.

Lu Kun rolled up his trouser legs and set to work, sweeping the net through the water until it was half full, then dumping the catch into the bucket.

Liu Liping didn’t just stand by—she efficiently scooped half a basin of water to wash the snails, cleaning away mud and debris.

The girls, still young, started out gamely enough, picking snails with their father, but before long they were crying from leech bites.

Girls, after all, are naturally wary of squirmy creatures...

There were plenty of leeches in the paddies. Even though Lu Kun kept moving, they were relentless. He climbed onto the dike and quickly plucked several bloodsucking leeches from his legs.

“Heh, you little devils are bold—daring to suck my blood!” he chuckled.

Lu Kun knew exactly how to deal with leeches. He pulled a pinch of tobacco from his pocket, wound it around the leeches, and sent them writhing in the mud.

Leeches were tenacious creatures—cut them into pieces, and they’d still live on. Even out of water, they could survive two or three days. The farmers had their own remedies: tobacco, laundry powder, quicklime, and so on.

...

The whole family worked together, hearts united, spending several hours at the task. At last, they’d filled the bucket to the brim with snails.

Lu Kun estimated there had to be forty or fifty pounds in there.

With everything packed up, he called to his wife and daughters to head home.

As if that weren’t enough, the day brought an unexpected bonus: they’d caught three large loaches, weighing more than a pound in total.

The two girls skipped and cheered all the way home, overjoyed that there would finally be meat on the table!