Chapter Forty-Eight: A Minor Issue with Ice Fishing

As long as the car had been on the road, Jiang Huan had kept her eyes closed, resting. When they finally arrived, the place was brimming with people and vehicles as far as the eye could see.

“Wow, it’s been so long since I’ve seen so many people,” the young boy next to her exclaimed, leaping off the bus like a monkey, only to be caught by another instructor who warned him not to run off.

Jiang Huan waited until most people had disembarked before standing up herself. As she took a few steps, she sensed someone closing in behind her and, without so much as a thought, extended her elbow backward in a stretching motion, expertly avoiding any close contact. Seizing the chance, she quickened her pace and stepped off the bus, moving to the edge of the crowd.

Liu Xiuguo rubbed his hands together, casting Jiang Huan a glance filled with hidden meaning. Chunmei, standing by his side, immediately grabbed his arm. “What are you looking at?” she asked.

“Just the fish, look, there are so many,” Liu Xiuguo replied, gesturing casually. Chunmei turned to see a group pulling up a net writhing with live fish.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Jiang Huan watched as they loaded the fish into vehicles, leaving a few people behind to cast new nets into the ice. All along this frozen stretch of river, the scene was much the same.

As for Jiang Huan, relishing her freedom, she simply found a spot, chipped a hole in the ice, and began ice-fishing.

She searched for a while and found a small hole someone else had already made. Testing the ice and finding it thick, she pulled a small stool from her backpack and began assembling her ice fishing gear.

With fish bait from a recent delivery, it took only a few minutes before she reeled in a fish that weighed at least three pounds.

No sooner had she pulled it up than she heard a rustling beneath her feet—more fish were swimming toward her. She glanced at the bait package: it was made from red worms, earthworms, and fish innards.

Sprinkling even more bait into the hole, she saw fish gathering beneath, turning the spot into a veritable fish haven. She switched to a multi-hook rig with fresh bait, and each time she pulled up, several fish came up at once.

“This one’s so tiny. Should I let it go?” she mused, holding a fish smaller than her palm. But she recalled someone mentioning that the eyes of small fish made excellent bait. So she tried it, and sure enough, even more fish gathered below.

She opened a waterproof collapsible tub, filled it with water, and tossed the fish in, though she stored the larger ones in her spatial storage as frozen fish.

Since the complex didn’t provide meals for these outings and she hadn’t joined any group, she simply cooked for herself. All around, people were roasting fish and making fish soup. She set up her own pot, tossed in some frozen tofu, wide noodles, and boiled it all together. With a packet of instant rice, she ate her fill.

By the time dusk settled in, she’d amassed nearly three hundred pounds of fish in her spatial storage, with twenty or so live ones in the tub beside her.

Most people were now retrieving their nets or setting new ones for the next day. Jiang Huan laid her own net, camouflaged it, packed up, and headed back toward the bus.

Dragging a tub of fish across the ice was no simple feat. She had to stop frequently, and it took her over half an hour to reach the spot where they’d been dropped off.

The bus was already half-filled with fish. Liu Xiuguo called for everyone to board and, seeing Jiang Huan, said, “You’ll have to pour out the water, otherwise you won’t be able to get on.”

Everyone else had done the same. Jiang Huan, not wanting to stand out, strung her fish together and poured the water out completely.

“Are we heading back tonight?” she asked.

“Yes. There are more and more people arriving, and we won’t have anywhere to sleep tonight. We’re definitely heading back.”

“So many fish. I wish we could catch more. How many are still out there? Can you hurry them up? The smell of all these fish in the bus... how long do we have to wait?”

Jiang Huan placed her fish near her seat and stepped off to wait.

“Why are you getting off again? Just get on and sit down, the bus will leave soon,” Chunmei scolded, frowning.

Jiang Huan thought to herself how certain habits never changed. “I only got off because five or six people haven’t returned yet. And besides, aren’t you off the bus as well? Why are you nagging me?”

“You’re unbelievable. If you delay the departure, will you take responsibility?” Chunmei snapped. A strange, unpleasant odor wafted from her, as if she hadn’t brushed her teeth since lunch. Jiang Huan, who had no taste for such things, stepped further away to keep her distance.

Knowing reasoning was pointless with someone like Chunmei, Jiang Huan lost any desire to argue.

Chunmei, still unwilling to give up, stomped her foot when she saw Liu Xiuguo returning with the others, then turned and boarded the bus.

Seeing that everyone was back, Jiang Huan put on her mask and went aboard as well.

Chunmei didn’t stop her this time, confirming Jiang Huan’s suspicion that Chunmei had been sent by Liu Xiuguo earlier, deliberately seeking reconciliation.

The last few people to return had brought so many fish that there was barely room to put one’s feet down. As the bus started back, the tires let out several plaintive squeals under the weight.

They drove on for a while, another ten or so minutes, when the driver suddenly slammed on the brakes.

Two people in the seats behind the driver lurched forward, smacking into the seats ahead. “What kind of driving is this?”

The driver snapped back impatiently, “The tire’s blown.”

“Could something have happened? We’d better get out and check,” someone suggested as the bus erupted in chaos.

Liu Xiuguo and two others leapt out and found that the tire had been punctured—just two nails, but enough to seriously endanger an overloaded school bus.

That left them with two choices: abandon most of the fish, or pray the tire would hold all the way back.

“What now?” Most eyes turned to Liu Xiuguo.

He had led the training group during the freeze, so naturally, everyone looked to him to resolve this crisis.

Liu Xiuguo squinted into the distance.

The wind was calm; there were no strange birds or obstacles. It seemed those two nails were merely bad luck.

“Old Liu, is there a spare tire?”

“Tied on the roof, with all the tools. But we’ll need everyone to unload the fish and clear the bus,” he replied.

“Alright, let’s get moving,” Liu Xiuguo ordered. The group began unloading the fish, while a few strong men were sent to scout the area. The women were tasked with watching the fish, and the remaining men, regardless of age, helped with the tire change.

Jiang Huan kept a wary eye on the surroundings, even taking out binoculars for a scan. Nearby, there was no one, but farther off, she spotted what looked like a village.

Someone stood on the second floor of a building, appearing to watch them as well. Jiang Huan put the binoculars away and concealed herself behind a tree.

The tire was quickly replaced. After much effort, the group reloaded the fish onto the bus. As the driver prepared to start the engine, Jiang Huan suddenly stood up.

“Wait! Let’s have a few people check the road ahead. The driver has blind spots, and I’m worried this might happen again.”

All eyes turned to her.

Some thought she made sense; others figured she was just a timid woman overthinking things.

“If someone meant us harm, they’d have struck already. Why would it be so quiet now? Don’t scare yourself,” one person said.

“If you’re that concerned, why don’t you go check yourself? It’s freezing out—talk is cheap,” another retorted.

Jiang Huan glanced back to see Chunmei’s head resting on Liu Xiuguo’s shoulder, her damp, tangled hair brushing across his lips.