Chapter 605 Warm Ice Fishing
The flames in the charcoal basin licked the sand pot. Zhou Yimin was half lying on a rattan chair, with the copper foot warmer at his feet emitting warm air. He was squinting his eyes and listening to the Huangmei Opera on the radio.
Suddenly, I heard an urgent call from outside the yard: "Uncle Sixteen, are you home?"
The sound shattered the silence in the room, startling him so much that the enamelware pot in his hand almost slipped, and the scalding hot tea made ripples on the rim of the cup.
He stood up slowly, his cotton shoes making a dragging sound as he stepped on the blue brick floor.
Pushing open the mottled wooden door, the cold wind carrying snow particles blew in my face, and the hem of my patched cotton jacket was rustling in the wind.
Outside the door, Erzhu was stamping his feet and breathing hard, with tiny ice crystals condensing on his eyelashes. When he saw him come out, he immediately came forward and said, "Uncle Sixteen, guess what I found? There are fish under the icy lake in the back mountain!"
As he spoke, his eyes sparkled, and the white mist he exhaled condensed into frost flowers in the cold air. "The ice has just frozen solid. If we wait a few more days for the winter hunting team to arrive, we won't have any chance to catch anything!"
Zhou Yimin stroked his chin and his Adam's apple moved.
The image of the icy lake in my memory gradually became clear: under the azure blue ice surface, silver scales were faintly visible in the darkness, and the fish tails emitted tiny rays of light as they swept across the ice cracks.
He glanced at the dusty canvas tent in the corner, and thought of the unused cast iron stove in the cupboard. No matter how biting the cold wind was, it would be a wonderful thing to be able to nestle in the warm tent and listen to the sound of fish biting the hook under the ice.
"Go, of course! Wait for me!" When Zhou Yimin turned around, a gust of wind came up, causing the cotton door curtain to crackle.
In a short while, he came out carrying a fishing rod and a fish basket on his back, with a folding tent in his arms, and the enamel pot hanging around his waist jingling with every step he took.
Erzhu stared with wide eyes, watching him stuff the quilt, iron pot, and even half a bag of cornmeal into the bamboo basket. He was so shocked that he couldn't close his mouth: "Uncle Sixteen, we are going fishing, not to settle down!"
Zhou Yimin smiled slyly, stuffed the last handful of dry firewood into the backpack, and the white breath he exhaled was crystal clear in the sun: "Boy, you will know later that ice fishing requires 'setting up camp'!"
As he spoke, he walked out of the village. On the snow behind him, deep and shallow footprints meandered towards the snow-covered back mountain, as if extending a winter wild fun that was about to begin.
The cold wind blew snow particles onto Erzhu's face. He looked at the bulging canvas bag in Zhou Yimin's arms, and his Adam's apple moved.
Although he didn't understand the purpose of carrying these "burdens", Uncle Sixteen always had his own ideas in the village. He reached out to take the heavy backpack, and his rough palm touched the angular cast iron stove in the basket, and doubts arose in his heart.
The two walked towards the reservoir on the creaking snow. Zhou Yimin suddenly hummed a tune, and the ambiguous syllables were crushed by the wind: "Walking in the cold wind of the winter night"
Erzhu turned to look at him and saw that he was squinting his eyes and looking at the dark green mountains in the distance. He didn't look like he was going fishing, but rather like he was going to a long-awaited appointment.
The frozen reservoir glowed faintly blue in the twilight, and the shadows of schools of silver fish could be vaguely seen swimming under the ice.
Erzhu couldn't wait to take out the ice pick, but Zhou Yimin held his wrist and said, "Erzhu, don't rush. Set up the tent first."
The young man looked at the pile of wrinkled canvas with a frown on his face. There were strange foreign logos printed on the cloth and the metal bracket was glowing with a cold light, making it look like a rare object he had never seen before.
Zhou Yimin took off his gloves, revealing his red, frozen fingers, and fumbled for the bracket parts in the canvas bag.
The metal tube was icy cold, but it flipped deftly in his hands, and with a "click", the first bracket was accurately inserted into the slot.
Erzhu stood by with eyes wide open, watching Uncle Sixteen put the brackets together one by one. His bony fingers were as steady as a rock in the cold wind.
"We need to find a good support point before setting up the tent." Zhou Yimin exhaled white mist and stomped out four positioning points on the ice.
"Come, help me hold it!" Erzhu hurried forward and pressed the base of the bracket with his rough hands.
Zhou Yimin gripped the rubber hammer tightly, and with two "bangs", the ground nails pierced obliquely into the frozen soil. The splashing ice chips shone like broken diamonds in the setting sun.
When the windbreak was unfolded, a cloud of snow and mist rose up, and the copper buckles on the edge of the cloth glowed coldly in the twilight.
Zhou Yimin half-knelt on the ice, put the rope buckles at the four corners of the cloth into the ground nails, and tightened them with his wrists.
The cold wind whistled into his collar, but he was unaware of it and was concentrating on checking every seam.
"Pull the inner wind rope tight as well!" he shouted to Erzhu.
Erzhu could only pull the rope clumsily, and his frozen fingers slipped several times.
The most critical step is to install the smoke exhaust duct.
Zhou Yimin took out a folded iron tube and aimed it at the ventilation hole reserved in the tent. The friction between the metal and the canvas made a slight sound.
"This stove must be placed in the center of the felt." He instructed Erzhu to move the cast iron stove in.
"The flue must be vertical, otherwise the smoke backflow will be terrible." Zhou Yimin continued.
The moment Erzhu opened the tent curtain, the north wind carrying snow particles suddenly blew into his collar, making him shiver.
But when the heavy canvas was dropped again, the world suddenly became quiet, and the biting cold was isolated outside.
He stomped the snow under his feet and was surprised to find that even the white mist brought out by his breath was no longer dissipating quickly. The fine canvas was like an invisible wall, blocking the cold wind outside.
His rough palms stroked the inner wall of the tent and felt the soft fluff of the windproof layer. He suddenly woke up and exclaimed, "Uncle Sixteen, this thing is more solid than my earthen kang!"
Zhou Yimin said: "This is a tent, specially produced to deal with this kind of weather."
Although Erzhu didn't quite understand, he didn't ask more questions.
"Why are you still standing there? Come and help me make a fire!" Zhou Yimin's voice came from the other end of the felt.
Erzhu then noticed that the other party had already set up the cast iron furnace and was arranging the dry pine branches for starting the fire into a cone shape.
Zhou Yimin took out the oil-paper bag from the bottom of the backpack and shook out a few crumpled pieces of newspaper.
The dry pine branches made a crisp sound in his palms as they were broken into neat three-inch lengths and stacked into a pyramid shape.
When Erzhu moved closer, he smelled the crisp scent of pine resin solidifying in the cold air. He saw Uncle Sixteen rubbing the stove wall with a match. The flames jumped up with a "hiss", and the newspaper roll was instantly wrapped with an orange-red edge.
"Watch carefully, the coal blocks should be placed along the furnace wall." Zhou Yimin waved his fingertips above the flame, judging the temperature.
He tapped the corners of the fist-sized pieces of coal and arranged them into a ring along the inside of the furnace wall, leaving a fire path in the middle.
When the first piece of coal came into contact with the open flame, fine oil stars immediately appeared on the surface and a light blue flame rose with a sizzling sound.
Erzhu hurriedly pulled his face back, but Zhou Yimin grabbed his wrist and said, "Don't be afraid, it's the volatile matter in the coal that's burning."
Thick smoke suddenly gushed out from the furnace mouth, choking Erzhu and making him cough repeatedly.
Zhou Yimin calmly adjusted the angle of the flue, and a whirring sound of air came from the vents on the top of the canvas tent.
"The key lies in this air door." He turned the cast iron paddle at the bottom of the furnace, and a gap appeared in the iron bars of the air inlet. The flames suddenly became lively, licking the edge of the coal and burning it into a bright red.
Erzhu watched intently, and saw that the originally black coal blocks gradually emitted an orange light, and spider-web-like cracks appeared on the surface, which looked very much like the bark of an old locust tree.
The warmth radiates from the stove.
Zhou Yimin placed the enamel jar on the stove mouth, and the water stains evaporated into white mist at the bottom of the jar.
Erzhu unbuttoned the cloth buttons on the collar of his cotton-padded jacket and suddenly discovered that the ice crystals on his eyelashes had melted at some point, and water droplets were sliding down his cheeks.
The flames in the furnace licked the cast iron walls, making the entire tent warm.
Zhou Yimin rubbed his no longer stiff palms and took out an ice pick from the tool kit. The sharp metal blade glowed coldly in the reflection of the fire.
"Erzhu, bring the compass here." He half-knelt on the felt, and the white mist he exhaled condensed into tiny water droplets in front of him.
"Ice fishing requires finding the fish path, you have to find the intersection of water currents."
Erzhu didn't quite believe this and just watched quietly.
The pointer on the dial emitted a faint blue light under the kerosene lamp.
Zhou Yimin placed the compass flat on the ice and watched the needle slowly turn and finally stop in the northwest.
"Right here!" He used an ice pick to knock a mark on the ice. The sound of metal collision was particularly crisp in the closed tent, causing ripples in the tea in the enamel pot.
When the ice pick fell for the first time, Zhou Yimin's palm went numb.
The surface of the ice cracked into spider-web-like fine lines, and broken ice fragments splashed on the canvas and fell on the edge of the felt.
Seeing this, Erzhu quickly picked up a shovel and cleared the ice chips out. The cold wind took the opportunity to pour in from the cave entrance, but turned into wisps of white mist the moment it touched the fire.
"Listen to that sound!" Zhou Yimin suddenly stopped and put the ice pick on the ice surface.
"The ice is at least half a meter thick, so it's very safe."
He increased his strength, and every rise and fall of the ice pick splashed tiny ice crystals, reflecting colorful light under the kerosene lamp.
When they had drilled to a depth of half a foot, they could faintly hear the sound of gurgling water under the ice, mixed with the rustling sound of scales of swimming fish.
Finally, the ice pick penetrated the last layer of ice, and the freezing lake water instantly flooded over.
Zhou Yimin quickly stuffed the bamboo tube he had prepared in advance into the cave entrance to prevent the ice from refreezing.
"Put on the bait!" Zhou Yimin smiled and shook his numb arms, slowly sinking the fishhook wrapped with the earthworm into the water.
Erzhu's knuckles turned white as he gripped the fishing rod. He watched as Zhou Yimin's fishing line suddenly sank every few moments. The silver fish in the enamel basin jumped around, and the splashing water shone golden in the reflection of the fire.
In contrast, his fishing line hung at the entrance of the ice cave like a dead hemp rope, without even the slightest tremor.
The cold wind came in through the gaps in the canvas, but now it was not as biting as before. Instead, it seemed to be mocking his arrogance.
"Uncle Sixteen, can you also help me find an ice cave?" Erzhu's throat was tight and his voice was drier than the dying charcoal in the stove.
Zhou Yimin did not refuse. He picked up the compass and turned it flexibly between his fingers. The needle on the dial drew a faint blue arc under the kerosene lamp.
"Erzhu, let's dig the hole here!" Zhou Yimin's ice pick hit the ice surface heavily, and the landing point was exactly where the light halos of two kerosene lamps intersected.
The ice made a crisp sound, and the frost flowers on the top of the tent fell down.
Erzhu didn't dare to say much this time. He picked up the ice pick and started to hammer hard. The flying ice chips stuck to his eyelashes and turned into crystal drops of water that rolled down.
When the dark blue water gushed out of the newly dug ice cave, Zhou Yimin had already scattered the mixed fish food into the cave entrance.
"Try this." He handed over the fishhook with red worm bait. The metal hook tip gleamed coldly in the firelight.
Erzhu held his breath and cast the fishing rod. The moment the fishing line broke through the water, it seemed as if an electric current was running up through his fingertips.
In less than ten minutes, the fishing line suddenly became taut.
Erzhu raised the rod reflexively, and a violent struggle could be heard from under the ice, causing the lake water to become covered with white mist.
When the first fat crucian carp broke out of the water, the water droplets on its scales exploded into tiny rainbows in the light.
Zhou Yimin leaned the fishing rod against the tent stand and stretched his sore shoulders. He was shocked to realize how fast time flies and that he had already spent three or four hours on the icy lake.
Erzhu's stomach made a "gurgling" sound at the right time. He scratched his head a little embarrassedly and took out two hard steamed buns from his canvas bag: "Uncle Sixteen, are you hungry? I have some steamed buns here."
The cracked knuckles were pinching the whole grain noodles, and there were some grass debris on the rough surface.
Zhou Yimin smiled and opened the bamboo basket wrapped in waterproof cloth. The unique salty aroma of white flour buns and beef jerky mixed with the scent of star anise and cinnamon filled the small space.
Erzhu's eyes widened, his Adam's apple rolled up and down, and his hand holding the steamed bun unconsciously shrank back.
Those fine grains, which were rarely seen on ordinary days, now glowed with an alluring luster under the swaying kerosene lamp, making his steamed bun look like a gray stone.
"Erzhu, I brought a lot, please help me eat some!" Zhou Yimin stuffed two plump white buns and a few pieces of greasy beef jerky into Erzhu's palm without saying a word.
Erzhu stared at the food in his hand, his nose feeling sour - the last time he ate white flour buns was at his wedding banquet when he got married.
He pretended to lower his head to tidy up the fish basket, and quickly put the beef jerky into the inner pocket of his cotton-padded jacket. His rough fingers made a slight sound as they rubbed against the fabric.
Zhou Yimin pretended not to see it and just munched on his steamed bun, looking through the air vents in the tent at the dark blue night sky.
In the distance came the crisp sound of ice cracking, mixed with the "crunching" sound of Erzhu chewing steamed buns.
The flame of the kerosene lamp flickered on the wick, reflecting the condensed water droplets on the inner wall of the tent.
Zhou Yimin glanced at the shadow on the enamel pot and saw that the hour hand had already passed the five o'clock mark.
I don't know when the sky outside sank into darkness, leaving only a hint of red in the distant valley, like a sigh left behind by the crushed sunset.
There were only a few dark red coals left in the cast iron stove. The cold air was silently seeping in through the gaps in the canvas, forming a fine layer of white frost on the edge of the felt.
"Erzhu, it's getting late. Let's stop here for today." Zhou Yimin rubbed his numb fingers, his voice particularly clear in the suddenly quiet tent.
The fish in the enamel basin was still struggling, and the splashing water fell on the cold ice surface and instantly solidified into thin ice.
Erzhu looked at the dripping fishing line on his fishing rod, his Adam's apple moved, and he finally said "fish for a while longer"
He swallowed his words back: "Okay."
When Erzhu bent down to pack up his fishing gear, the brim of his hat swept away the frost on the top of the tent, which fell on the back of his neck.
The process of dismantling the tent was more difficult than expected.
The metal bracket had already been soaked in the cold air. The white mist Zhou Yimin exhaled condensed into ice crystals as soon as it touched the tube body, and his fingers were almost stuck to it.
Erzhu dragged the windproof cloth with force, and there was a "sizzling" tearing sound where the cloth was stuck to the ice surface.
The bamboo basket filled with fish weighed heavily on his shoulders. The sound of fish tails hitting the bamboo strips, mixed with the "crackling" sound of the two people stepping on the thin ice, echoed on the empty ice lake.
(End of this chapter)
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