Novel Full Chapter 62 - 56: Does This Family Belong to King Yama?
Chapter 62: Chapter 56: Does This Family Belong to King Yama?
The owner of the fish stall was a man named Gao Yu. At twenty-five, he was the third son in his family, so everyone called him Gao Sanwa.
Zhou Yan felt the nickname carried too much pressure, so he just called him Boss Gao.
Boss Gao was jolted awake. He blinked blankly for a moment before sitting up, scratching his head as he looked at Zhou Yan. "Boss Zhou, you sold all forty of those carp from this morning already?"
"There are hardly any left. I need to restock," Zhou Yan said with a smile.
"You got it. I’ll deliver them to the restaurant at four-thirty." Boss Gao pulled a small notebook from his pocket and scribbled a few notes. He looked up at Zhou Yan again. "I’m raising a batch of grass carp in my pond this year, raised entirely on grass. They’re over three catties now. If you ever want to make something like pickled cabbage fish or boiled fish, grass carp is the absolute best. The meat is incredibly firm and tender. Since we’re friends, I’ll give you a good price."
"Great. I’ll come find you when I need them," Zhou Yan nodded, getting on his bicycle and turning around to head back.
Boss Gao couldn’t get back to sleep. He got up and started sorting through the fish in his buckets, but he couldn’t find twenty that met the standard. After a quick word with the owner of the neighboring stall, he hopped on his tricycle and headed back to his fishpond to catch more.
Zhou Yan had high standards for his fish. They had to be uniform in size, high in quality, and very lively.
But he bought in large quantities and paid promptly. As long as the fish were good, he settled the bill on the spot, never asking for credit.
That alone put him miles ahead of the other restaurants and stalls in town.
Some of the shameless ones would ask to put even two little carp on a tab. When it was time to collect at the end of the month, you had to beg and plead with them. It was so damn frustrating.
He, Gao Sanwa, swore an oath to make his business bigger and stronger! One day, he’d make those people come begging to buy fish from him, and they’d have to pay in cash!
Zhou Yan didn’t know about the grand ambition Boss Gao had just formed, but he was quite satisfied with his fish. ’If I need more fish in the future,’ he thought, ’going to him is a good idea.’
Today, Comrade Zhou returned from his fishing trip rather early, getting back even before the factory workers got off.
He scraped the mud from his feet on the edge of the riverbank before wheeling his bicycle over.
Zhou Momo ran over, hugging Old Zhou’s leg and looking up. "Daddy! Daddy!" she asked in her sweet, childish voice. "Did you catch a fishy today?"
"Mhm, I caught one today." Zhou Miao parked his bicycle and pulled an eight- or nine-liang crucian carp from the bamboo creel in the front basket.
"Wow! Daddy, you’re the best! You caught another fishy!" Zhou Momo jumped up and down, clapping her small hands in delight.
"Oh, you caught one again? Not bad at all." Zhao Tieying came out and eyed the carp in Zhou Miao’s hand. "This size is perfect for making Huo Xiang Carp."
"Yep, the size is just right," Zhou Yan said, also smiling.
It looked exactly like the ones he’d bought.
A textbook-standard farmed fish.
[A farmed crucian carp of decent quality.]
’The empty-handed fisherman still hasn’t broken his losing streak.’
"Well, I’ll go put it in some water to keep it alive."
Zhou Miao carried the fish toward the kitchen. As he passed Zhou Yan, he flashed a smile that only the two of them could understand.
Zhou Yan would call it the wry, helpless smile of a fisherman who’d come home empty-handed.
’He only bought one this time,’ Zhou Yan mused. ’Looks like Comrade Zhou is preparing for a long-term campaign, keeping a small but steady stream going.’
Zhou Miao brought a bucket of water out from the kitchen and began washing his hands and scrubbing his shoes under a nearby tree.
Zhao Tieying told him about Wang the Pockmarked causing a scene at noon.
Zhou Miao listened in silence before asking, "Did Zhou Yan say someone put him up to it?"
"We don’t know yet. We’ll have to see what the Security Section says," Zhao Tieying said with a smile. "Don’t worry, I handled it. It was just a small incident."
"Of course. My wife is a real problem-solver. Just what I’d expect from the former model soldier of the militia brigade!" Zhou Miao gave her a smiling thumbs-up.
"You still remember I was a model soldier?" Zhao Tieying couldn’t stop grinning.
Zhou Miao nodded with a grin. "Of course I do. You even got an enamel cup and two towels as a reward. I still have that cup put away for you in the cabinet."
"But isn’t it leaky?"
"It has sentimental value, even if it’s leaky. You were the first woman in the entire brigade to be named a model soldier!"
"Zhou Miao, you’re really the best."
"It’s my duty to treat you well."
"Stop, stop, that’s too sweet. Save those words for when we’re at home."
Mrs. Zhao got up with a bashful smile and headed back into the restaurant.
Zhou Miao watched her enter with a smile. Then he tossed out the dirty water, set the wooden bucket aside, and stood up. As he started walking toward the Security Section, his expression had already turned cold as ice.
...
Huang Fusheng spent three hours in the Security Section’s interrogation room. When he finally emerged from the main factory gate, pushing his bicycle, his face was pale and he looked completely out of it.
A lowlife like Wang the Pockmarked has no honor to speak of. He was interrogated for less than an hour before he sang like a canary and gave Huang Fusheng up.
The Security Section officers had come to the factory canteen to pick him up for "questioning."
The consequences of this could be severe, or they could be minor.
He may have been the instigator, but Wang the Pockmarked and his cronies hadn’t caused any real damage at Zhou Yan Restaurant. No money was involved, so at worst it was a case of "disturbing the peace."
But this was during the "Strike Hard" anti-crime campaign. Wang the Pockmarked and his gang had rap sheets a mile long; getting mixed up with them was like wading through a sewer.
They had let him go for now, but he was suspended from his job and told to await further notice at home.
"You’re Huang Fusheng?" a voice suddenly spoke from behind him.
"Huh?" Huang Fusheng turned to see a dark-skinned, middle-aged man and asked hesitantly, "I am. Who are you?"
"Zhou Yan is my son. I’m Zhou Miao, the butcher from Zhou Village." Zhou Miao lifted his shirt, revealing the hilt of the Bone Knife tucked into his waistband. His eyes bored into Huang Fusheng.
"The Security Section says you hired those thugs to cause trouble at my son’s place. I came to tell you just two things."
"If anything happens to Zhou Yan from now on, I’m only coming for you."
"Suji is a small place. There’s no one I can’t find."
His tone was flat, but it was laced with a chilling, murderous intent.
Huang Fusheng’s flabby body trembled. He waved his hands frantically. "I won’t dare again! I won’t!"
Zhou Miao lowered his shirt and walked away without a backward glance.
Huang Fusheng let out a long breath, only then realizing his back was completely soaked with sweat.
A butcher?
Huang Fusheng would’ve believed it if he’d said he was a murderer!
Huang Fusheng tried to get on his bicycle, failing three times before he finally managed it by using a roadside bollard as a step.
He couldn’t help it. His legs had turned to jelly.
’What is with this family? Are they related to King Yama or something?’
’They’re terrifying!’
From now on, he was staying far, far away from anything to do with Zhou Yan.
When Zhou Miao returned to the restaurant, his face once again wore a gentle smile.
The factory shift ended, and customers gradually began to fill the restaurant.
Zhou Miao helped out, serving dishes, bringing out dipping sauces, and scooping rice—small tasks he could handle perfectly well.
"Where did you go just now?" Mrs. Zhao asked him.
"Ran into an acquaintance and had a little Dragon Gate Formation," Zhou Miao said casually.
"Oh? You know people at the factory?" Mrs. Zhao sounded surprised.
"We just met. Strangers the first time, friends the second," Zhou Miao chuckled, picking up two bowls of Kneeling Beef to serve to a table.
The restaurant was busy again that evening. The old director’s endorsement, combined with the word-of-mouth praise from the last couple of days, was starting to have an effect. One by one, the tables filled up.
"Zhao, one order of Kneeling Beef, and I’d like to get some braised pork ribs to go," Lin Zhiqiang said as he walked in, handing over an aluminum lunchbox.
"Of course. Is this for the kids, Director Lin?" Zhao Tieying asked with a smile as she took the lunchbox.
"Yes. The two little ones had the braised pork ribs yesterday and haven’t stopped talking about them since. They made me promise to bring some home today." Lin Zhiqiang nodded with a smile, then his expression turned concerned. "I heard there was some trouble here at lunchtime. Is everything alright?"
"It was nothing. Director Luo and his officers from the Security Section arrived promptly and took all the troublemakers away. It didn’t cause much of a fuss," Zhao Tieying said.
"Good, I’m glad to hear it." Lin Zhiqiang nodded, exchanged a greeting with Zhou Miao, and went to find a seat.
He was here today on "official orders" to eat Kneeling Beef, with a side mission of bringing home braised pork ribs for the kids.
He never expected to have a second spring at thirty-eight.
’Then again...’
The memory of Meng Anhe making him a fried egg and helping him with his jacket that morning brought an involuntary smile to his lips.
’This Kneeling Beef is a must-eat!’
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