Chapter 57 – A Million Fishing Boats, A Million Lanterns
“Look, the sea boundary.”
Chou Bodeng reached out and pressed Shi Wuluo’s shoulder, signaling him to stop the boat.
In the distance, on the waterline, a row of white stone pillars soared out of the sea. The pillars were dozens of meters high, with strange beasts coiled around them, holding iron chains in their mouths.
The fiery Cang River flowed past the base of the pillars. On one side of the pillars, the Cang River was treacherous, with the potential for terrifying waves at any moment. On the other side, the Cang River was serene, always calm and peaceful, like a stern and silent father or brother, spreading his long, powerful arms to protect thousands of boats in his embrace.
The iron chains of the city boundary opened at dawn and closed at dusk, marking the rhythm of life on the sea: rising with the sun and resting with the sun.
Dong, dong, dong.
The morning drum sounded for the second time, and the beasts loosened the iron chains.
“The sun is out—”
“The sea gate is open—”
First one person sang out, then thousands and tens of thousands joined in chorus:
“It’s open!”
The calls to weigh anchor came one after another, a mighty wave of sound rolling towards them. Bare-chested crewmen could be faintly seen straining to pull the ropes, their backs gilded bronze by the morning sun. The sound of water and the clanking of lowering iron chains merged into a great roar. The calls grew more urgent, and the men’s backs suddenly straightened. The iron anchors broke through the sea’s surface, sending up strings of spray.
Dong!
The morning drum sounded for the third time, and the city boundary boomed open.
A million black canopies were unfurled, a million oars paddled, and a million boats surged out from between the sea pillars. Every boat had a wind-vane pole, topped with a statue of a Golden Crow, with five taels of feathers tied to its feet. The daylight swept across the tips of all the wind-vane poles, reflecting off the backs of the Golden Crows as a million points of blazing fire.
“On a good day, the mast is raised; the soaring crow startles the five taels.”
Chou Bodeng stood up lightly, his bare feet on the prow. He turned and spread his arms, and the long wind billowed his sleeves, the black cloak revealing the brilliant vermilion beneath.
“A million fishing boats, a million lanterns.”
Behind him, the sun had just risen halfway, the other half shattered into a glorious expanse on the surface of the Cangming Sea. The fishing boats of Zhunan sailed out from the golden sun, fanning out in an arc, like countless paper lanterns of the azure sky, filled with fire drawn from the myriad rising suns, rushing in all directions, as if to set the entire mortal realm ablaze.
“The daylight is joyful, and the myriad boats are glad,” Shi Wuluo said softly. “Is that right?”
Chou Bodeng smiled at him, saying neither yes nor no.
He offered his hand to Shi Wuluo.
Shi Wuluo took it and was pulled up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him at the prow.
The sun gradually rose from the sea.
The whale-like fleet of fishing boats gradually dispersed. Small sampans and large boats, heavy oars and light paddles, created tens of thousands of wakes on the vast sea. The wakes rippled out one after another, then crashed and broke one after another. An old boatman, poling his boat, opened his throat and sang the distant “Ballad of Sea and Mountain,” while a young crewman, rowing, sang the “Fisherman’s Tune” to a girl casting her net on the opposite side.
“Ask my love which one his heart desires, oh, which wave should my brother tread?”
“Ask my love which one his heart desires, oh, how many times should my brother’s back be scorched?”
“Ask my love which one his heart desires, oh, when will you leap into my cabin?”
“…”
The tune twisted and turned, the ballad rising.
“In the Cangming Sea near Zhunan, there’s a type of Gold-Clad Fish, which can grow up to three meters long. It only floats to the surface at sunrise. The fishermen of Zhunan call the Gold-Clad Fish caught in the first net of the morning ‘Gold-Thread Fish’.” Chou Bodeng showcased his expertise in the finer things in life, a skill befitting a top-tier profligate. “Gold-Thread Fish, slow-cooked over a low fire with clear bamboo wine, has a delicate flavor and fine flesh. Let’s go, let’s go buy some fish.”
He was full of enthusiasm. On a whim, he even rolled up his sleeves, wanting to try his hand at rowing.
After a couple of strokes, the small boat obligingly…
…spun in a circle on the sea.
“Lad, you’re rowing it wrong. You need to go a bit more outward, and don’t dip it too deep on the first stroke. That’s it, like that,” a fast-moving sampan passed by them. The old fisherman, wearing a battered straw hat, was tanned and shiny. He chuckled and gave a couple of pointers. “Aiyo, such a stubborn oar, that’s a rare sight!”
Chou Bodeng tried again.
Swoosh—
The small boat skewed sideways, heading straight for the old fisherman’s sampan.
“No good, no good,” the old fisherman casually poled his sampan, which nimbly dodged, and shook his head repeatedly. “Let the one from your family do it, let him do it!”
Shi Wuluo had just come down from the prow and, hearing this, let out a very soft laugh.
“…”
Chou Bodeng shoved the oar into his hands, his teeth gritted. “If you don’t buy the biggest Gold-Thread Fish today, you can fail your test for three hundred years, just like Elder Jun.”
“Mm.”
Shi Wuluo gave the oar a push, and the small boat shot out like a light feather, gliding over the sparkling sea.
…What ‘mm’? At least try to hide your smile.
Chou Bodeng ground his teeth and, not wanting to look at him, simply sat on the side of the gunwale, deliberately making it a bit more difficult for him to row.
After a while.
Chou Bodeng silently moved back to the prow.
It didn’t matter where he sat; it had no effect on Shi Wuluo’s steering…
In that case, why should he waste the effort and make himself uncomfortable sitting in an unfamiliar spot?
After kicking up some spray at the prow for a while, Chou Bodeng took out a Bo Chopstick and began to tap it idly against the white porcelain jar. The wine jar was empty, and the sound it made was hollow. So he scooped half a jar of water into it and, accompanied by the sound from the jar, began to sing the “Ballad of Sea and Mountain.”
“There is a sea in Zhunan, how many cups deep is the sea?”
“The sea is two cups deep, one to drink and one to fill.”
“There is a mountain in Zhunan, how many bells high is the mountain?”
“The mountain is two bells high, one to sing till it ends, one to sleep.”
“…”
His voice was clear and bright. It didn’t have the broad-minded magnanimity of the old fishermen’s singing, which was forged from countless battles with waves and tides, but it had a kind of youthful, reckless abandon that knew no fear of the heavens. In the fisherman’s tune, it was as if the vast sea had truly become the wine in his cup, and the lofty mountains had truly become the bell by his pillow.
The sorrow under the white moon seemed to be just an illusion.
Wherever the song reached, the fishermen cheered loudly.
Many young fishermen and women turned their heads, looking for the singer.
Unfortunately, Shi Wuluo steered the boat like a startled swan’s shadow. By the time others heard the song and turned their heads, they could only see a long wake on the sea…
They couldn’t see who the singer was at all.
At this moment, it was the “Morning Market” on the Cangming Sea.
Every morning, after the city boundary opened, the fishermen of Zhunan wouldn’t rush to the deep sea. Instead, they would first gather in a shallow, light-green area of the sea not far from the city boundary. Here, where cold and warm currents met, the fish were abundant in both variety and quantity. Following a tradition that was thousands of years old, each boat would cast its net only once. The fish caught in that net were considered the day’s “splendid catch.”
The fishmongers from the city knew this custom, so they would pole some rafts and small boats, weaving through the fishing boats to buy the best catches, which they would then sell at high prices to the major taverns and teahouses of Zhunan. This was called “tasting the new.”
“Top-quality Gold-Thread Fish—two meters long—”
“Green-Seeking Carp! Fresh scales and gills—”
“Bat-Stripe Fish, get your Bat-Stripe Fish!”
“…”
The fishermen hawked, and the merchants bought.
The Gold-Thread Fish, because of its beautiful appearance and delicious taste, and because it appeared with the sun, appealed to the poetic sentiments of scholars and was highly sought after, its price exorbitant, truly “a scale for a piece of gold.” Therefore, whenever a fishing boat caught a Gold-Thread Fish over 1.5 meters long, they would shout it out, and fishmongers from all around would flock over, bidding against each other.
As the saying goes: Voices compete for the highest bid, boats race to chase the gold thread.
The fishmongers who could snatch the Gold-Thread Fish were not only wealthy but also skilled boatmen, navigating the waters as if on flat ground. If they successfully bought a Gold-Thread Fish over 1.5 meters, they would not only win the cheers of the fishermen but also become a topic of conversation back in Zhunan City.
At this moment, many fishmongers were clustered around a small boat, arguing until they were red in the face over a rare 3.6-meter-long Gold-Thread Fish.
“One thousand two hundred.”
“One thousand three hundred.”
“…”
Many fishermen who had already made their splendid catch didn’t rush off to the farther seas, instead stopping nearby to watch the excitement.
The one who had caught the big fish, Luo Xiaoqi, was a tall, thin young man. He was a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, straightforward and stubborn. He wasn’t very clever, and it was his first time taking a boat out to fish by himself, so he didn’t know how to haggle with these shrewd-to-the-bone fishmongers.
Normally, a three-meter-long Gold-Thread Fish could sell for over two thousand, let alone this one that was a full 3.6 meters.
But today, the fishmongers were taking advantage of his youth, and for some reason, none of them were willing to raise the price too much.
“One thousand eight hundred, and that’s the highest it’ll go.” A merchant raised his hand high and looked around. “Young man, don’t think we’re trying to lowball you. This Gold-Thread Fish usually sells on Red Railing Street, but yesterday there was a fire on Red Railing Street that burned down most of the lavish taverns and painted pavilions. Right now, there aren’t many places that can afford to pay a high price for a Gold-Thread Fish! I don’t even know if I can sell this fish after I buy it.”
Luo Xiaoqi furrowed his brow and said nothing.
He squatted on the boat’s deck, looking at the huge Gold-Thread Fish, lost in thought.
“Two thousand two hundred!”
A fat fishmonger thought for a moment and held up two fingers.
The other fishmongers frowned, looking hesitant, and for a moment, no one else raised the price.
The fishermen watching from the sidelines shook their heads and sighed with regret.
The fat fishmonger patted his potbelly and stood at the prow of his boat, looking at the others with a self-satisfied expression, as if he had the gold thread in his grasp and the world in his hands.
“Five thousand taels.”
A lazy voice drifted over, sounding not very old.
The fat fishmonger’s smile froze. He turned his head and saw that at some point, a wide waterway had opened up among the tightly packed sampans. A small boat had stopped unhurriedly. The one poling the boat was a pale-skinned young man, and a youth wrapped in a black cloak sat at the prow.
The one who had spoken was the youth, who was looking down and tapping on a wine jar.
“Hey! Young man, don’t you go making blind offers.”
The fat fishmonger thought for a moment. He had never heard of any disciple from a wealthy immortal sect who could casually toss out five thousand taels of gold frequenting the sea’s fish market, such a low-class, vulgar place. He felt displeased and spoke with a hint of mockery.
“Hurry on home. Your father and mother are going to take a stick to you.”
Everyone laughed.
“And what if I can afford it?” The youth propped up his chin and looked up with a smile. “How about you swim a lap in the nude?”
When he looked up, the splendor of the sky and sea seemed to dim for a moment in the face of his beauty.
Luo Xiaoqi, who had been silent all this time, stared in a daze.
“What do you all say?” The youth looked around and smiled.
Luo Xiaoqi, with a whoosh, staggered to his feet, holding the Gold-Thread Fish, and offered it forward. “N-no money needed. It’s-it’s a gift for you.”