Starting from Mountain Farming and Hunting

The riverside in winter was sparse with greenery, and the trees stood bare, yet the open valley still brimmed with charm.

Following a small path for about ten meters led them into the heart of the valley, where every bluestone stood at least half as tall as Lin Heng. The pebbles here were mostly the size of a baby’s fist, making it easy to walk without twisting an ankle.

This spot would have been perfect for lounging on the bluestones or having a picnic, but Lin Heng was far more interested in whether the river held any fish.

In this era, the river remained pristine and teeming with native fish species. The Black River, originating from Mount Taibai, boasted exceptionally clear waters and was renowned for its variety of indigenous fish, some even celebrated in local lore.

Lin Heng had even brought a lidded plastic bucket, ready to take some live catches home.

The three of them—Lin Heng, his father, and his elder brother—quickly made their way to the water’s edge, but at first glance, there didn’t seem to be much to harvest.

But that was normal. If fish were so abundant, they’d have been picked clean long ago.

The trio began by flipping stones in the shallows. The river, fed by glacial waters, was frigid even in summer, let alone winter. The fish were likely all hiding beneath the rocks.

“Damn, it’s cold,” Lin Heng muttered, dipping his hand in the water and immediately losing all feeling in his fingers.

Lin Heng glanced over but didn’t bother moving. Bitterlings were common everywhere—nothing special.

After flipping a couple of stones, he spotted another native species—a sleeper goby and a sand loach. The sand loach was inedible, but the sleeper goby was impressively large.

These fish were delicious, usually no longer than a palm’s width, but the one under this rock was already over ten centimeters.

“The ecosystem in this era is truly thriving,” Lin Heng mused, rolling up his sleeves. In his past life, the sleeper gobies he’d caught were barely two or three centimeters—rarely anything this big.

In the dead of winter, the goby was sluggish. Even when Lin Heng lifted the rock, it didn’t flee, lying motionless in the sand as if hoping to evade notice.

Bracing against the icy water, Lin Heng slowly cupped his hands around the fish, trapping it along with the sand—a tried-and-true technique for catching small fish.

The key was ensuring no gaps when closing his hands. As the village’s top fish-catcher, Lin Heng had a 90% success rate, and this time was no exception.

“So cold!!”

Shivering, he opened his palms to reveal a plump sleeper goby squirming in his grip.

“What’d you catch?”

Elder Brother Lin Yue jogged over, eyes widening at the fish in Lin Heng’s hand. “That’s huge! Ten of these would make a full plate.”

Lin Heng grinned. “Yeah, and they’re easy to catch.”

At least he wasn’t going home empty-handed—a small victory. He placed the fish in a shallow pool nearby and continued scouting.

“Whoa, son, get over here! Big one!”

Lin Heng had just set the fish down when his father’s excited shout rang out from further along the bank.

“What kind?” Lin Heng called back, already sprinting over.

“Damn, it got away! Huge mandarin fish!”

Before Lin Heng could reach him, his father was already slapping his thigh in frustration.

“Mandarin fish?”

Lin Heng hurried over to investigate. The spot his father stood was deeper, with a small cascade creating a frothy white rapid where the water dropped about a meter.

“It was right under this rock—a big one, at least a kilo. I barely got a good look before it darted into the middle,” Father Lin lamented, pointing at the boulder at his feet.

Lin Heng shrugged. “Even if it hadn’t bolted, mandarin fish are tough to catch by hand. We’ll need rods. But hey, knowing they’re here is half the battle.”

Since they were already here, Lin Heng decided to search the area.

Just as he was about to leave, movement caught his eye—four or five fish surfacing in the froth about four or five meters ahead. “Qinling lenok! This spot’s perfect for fishing!”

The Qinling lenok, known locally as the “plum blossom fish,” was the Black River’s most prized freshwater species—a type of salmon believed to date back to the last mini ice age.

These lenoks were far larger than the ones he’d seen in Three-Forked Gully’s streams, easily weighing over half a kilo each. No wonder people said you could net loads of them here yearly.

Father Lin nodded toward the bamboo-covered slope by the road. “Let’s go cut some bamboo. I see some up there.”

No matter where you fished, rods were a must.

“I spotted a bream earlier, but it vanished in a flash,” Lin Yue reported as he jogged up.

Lin Heng chuckled. “Bream’s a long shot today. Let’s focus on lenoks and mandarin fish—they love cold water.”

This stretch of the valley was wide, with clear shallows where the bottom was visible. Narrower sections had deep, murky green pools where fishing was pure luck.

Armed with machetes, the three trekked up the slope to harvest bamboo.

The hillside was overgrown with thorny shrubs, making the hike miserable. But bamboo was their only option—other trees were too heavy and inflexible for fishing poles.

After pushing through two hundred meters of thicket, they finally reached a small bamboo grove—and stumbled upon an unexpected clue.

“Look—a scratching tree. Means there’s wild boar around,” Father Lin observed, pointing at a nearby tree.

Scratching trees were where boars rubbed themselves to dislodge parasites, leaving the bark polished smooth over time. It was a telltale sign for hunters.

Lin Heng scanned the area and shook his head. “This one’s abandoned. The boars probably moved on or got hunted.”

Active scratching trees showed fresh tracks and marks, used every few days.

Still, even an old sign meant the area had once been—or still was—boar territory.

After a brief inspection, they entered the bamboo grove to gather poles.

The bamboo here was about as thick as a finger, making selection easy. Each of them cut two stalks before hauling them back to the road.

They trimmed the tips, smoothed the shafts, and soon had five makeshift fishing rods ready.

With gear in hand, they returned to the river.

Lin Heng ventured upstream from where the mandarin fish had been spotted, finding a deeper section with emerald-green water too murky to see the bottom. Testing with a line, he estimated depths of two and a half to three meters.

“I’ll bait this spot. If we can’t hook lenoks or mandarin fish, we can always fall back on carp or crucian carp,” he said, scattering bait.

Black River crucian carp were famously tasty, so this was a reliable backup plan.

Not content with just one spot, he baited another fifty meters upstream.

With the bait set, they rigged two rods with homemade bobbers, anchored by hefty thirty- to forty-kilo stones.

The trio then took their remaining rods to where they’d seen the lenoks and mandarin fish earlier.

“Both species are carnivorous. Just thread a whole earthworm on the hook,” Lin Heng instructed his father and brother before doing the same and casting his line.

The area had depths ranging from one meter near the edges to two or three meters in the rapids, but the fish were nowhere in sight now.

Lin Yue cast straight into the deepest froth, Father Lin aimed for mid-depth, while Lin Heng targeted the rocky edges—knowing mandarin fish loved ambushing prey from crevices.

His approach gave him the best shot at landing one.

He worked the rocky areas with a jigging technique, making the bait dart enticingly to trigger the fish’s predatory instincts.

The sky was a brilliant blue, dotted with sparse clouds. By noon, the sunlight had warmed the air pleasantly.

As long as the river wind stayed calm, fishing from the bluestones was pure bliss—with sweeping views of mountains and water stretching before them.

Half an hour passed without a single bite, dampening their spirits.

“Maybe they don’t feed in winter?” Father Lin wondered aloud.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Lin Yue agreed.

Lin Heng pondered. “They have to eat. Maybe they’re just not into earthworms. I’ll try catching some stone loaches for bait.”

Setting his rod aside, he waded into the shallows to hunt for stone loaches—ubiquitous in any river.

After ten minutes of searching, he managed to scoop up four, then hurried back with his bucket.

Just as he returned—

“FISH ON!!”

Halfway there, they heard Father Lin’s exclamation from upstream.

Looking up, they saw a beautiful spotted mandarin fish being pulled straight out of the water, its gorgeous scales reflecting colorful light under the sun.

“Amazing! How did you catch it?” Lin Heng ran over to ask.

“I don’t know either. I just cast the rod with earthworms and waited. When I saw the line twitch, I quickly reeled it in and got the fish,” Father Lin said while removing the hook.

The fish weighed about half a kilogram—slender enough to barely hold in one hand. Its scales were fine and dense, with black spots covering its body.

Father Lin examined it repeatedly. Lin Heng took out the fish keeper Xiulan had sewn and placed it in the water.

“Looks like the Qinling Mountains’ fine-scaled salmon also eat earthworms,” Lin Yue said with a laugh, his spirits lifted. As long as they could catch fish, there was hope.

“Heh, seems my luck isn’t bad,” Father Lin chuckled, baiting another earthworm and continuing to wait.

For anglers, the worst fear is not getting a single bite. But once they land one, patience becomes easier.

Lin Heng retrieved his own rod—the earthworm on it remained untouched, showing no signs of being nibbled. This was normal; if a mandarin fish had taken it, he would have hooked it.

He couldn’t help but lament that China currently had no lure rods. Otherwise, catching salmon or spotted mandarin fish would be a sure thing.

For these fish, he used large hooks. He cruelly pierced a creek stone loach through its tail so it wouldn’t die immediately. Struggling in the water, it would mimic an injured small fish—irresistible to predatory fish.

Once prepped, Lin Heng tossed the loach into the water. The moment it hit the surface, the loach darted wildly with the fishing line in tow. Each time it nearly reached a crevice, Lin Heng lifted and recast it.

On the ninth attempt, the rod suddenly jerked violently.

“Holy shit, got a bite!” Lin Heng excitedly yanked the rod, and soon a large fish surfaced—its bluish-yellow body adorned with dark brown spots, shimmering brilliantly under the sunlight.

Splash!

With a flip, it plunged back in. The rod, too flexible, bent into a deep arc.

“You really hooked it! Let me grab the landing net,” Lin Yue exclaimed in surprise, dropping his rod to fetch the assembled net.

“No rush,” Lin Heng said with a smile, leisurely playing the fish for a couple of rounds, savoring the thrill of the fight.

Half a minute later, the mandarin fish was scooped up in the net.

Lin Heng removed the hook and held the fish, admiring it repeatedly. “This one’s big—must be at least a kilogram. The patterns are stunning.”

Mandarin fish don’t eat much in winter, but that doesn’t mean they won’t bite—especially when a creek loach is dangled right in front of them.

“Incredible. This trip was worth it,” Father Lin remarked with a grin.

Lin Heng nodded. The fish was so beautiful he almost couldn’t bear to eat it. Its striking patterns made it worthy of being an ornamental pet.

Predatory fish like this were highly interactive when kept, attacking their prey with ferocity.

After admiring it for a while, Lin Heng finally placed it in the fish keeper. Regardless, their fishing trip to Black River had started with a bang.

“Guess I’m the only one who hasn’t caught anything yet. I’ll try the creek loach too,” Lin Yue said with a laugh.

“I’ll bait it for you,” Lin Heng agreed, hooking a loach for his elder brother before baiting another for himself.

With fresh casts, all three were buzzing with excitement. The fish were biting better than expected—perhaps due to their secluded spot, untouched by the “harsh lessons” of human interference.

Another half-hour passed, but even with the loach, there were no bites. It was puzzling. Even if the mandarin fish were gone, the spotted ones should still be around. Why weren’t they taking the bait?

“Whatever, let’s eat. I’m starving,” Lin Heng said, checking his watch—it was almost two o’clock.

“Sure.”

They weighed their rods down with stones and headed to a large bluestone slab to have lunch.

Their meal was simple: braised dishes and three steamed buns brought from home.

The braised dishes included donkey meat and half a chicken, both pre-mixed and chilled. Eating under the warm sun was pure bliss.

“This place just keeps getting prettier,” Lin Yue remarked with a smile.

Lin Heng nodded, taking a bite of donkey meat. “Having a picnic or barbecue here would be perfect. Too bad we didn’t bring the gear this time.”

He made up his mind—next time, he’d bring his wife, daughter, and family here. It was an ideal campsite.

“Plenty of chances to come back,” Father Lin added cheerfully. After today’s catch, he was sold on the spot. If winter yielded such results, summer would be even more enchanting.

“Holy shit! The rod’s being dragged away!!”

Just then, Lin Yue turned his head and gasped.

Whether it wasn’t weighed down properly or something else, his fishing rod was being yanked toward the center of the water.

(End of Chapter)

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