Chapter Three: Fishing

Zhao Mu carried the bundle of wild grass for quite some time. Only after the nearby settlements thinned out did he find a small pool by the riverbank. This little pool was still connected to the river, like the dot added to the character "bu"—though part of the river, its current was noticeably slower.

Zhao Mu glanced around and decided to fish here using herbal poison.

His choice was primarily for convenience. Elsewhere, even if he managed to poison the fish, the current would carry them downstream, and with his current strength, he wouldn’t be able to catch up.

He found a broken earthenware jar and a stone, then smashed the wild grass inside the jar.

Those following him were stunned. They had assumed Zhao Mu had been gathering grass to eat, but now he was crushing it instead.

Seeing that Zhao Mu wasn't collecting grass for food, two disappointed companions turned back to wait in the grassland.

The others kept their eyes fixed on Zhao Mu, curious about his intentions.

Before long, Zhao Mu had extracted all the juice from the grass.

He looked at the small pool beside him, went to the edge, filled the jar with water, and stirred the mixture with a small wooden stick until well blended. Then he poured the liquid into the pool.

After rinsing the jar several times with the pool water to ensure no residue remained, he collapsed to the side, gasping for breath.

The exertion drained nearly all his strength.

The burning pain where his abdomen had been cut with a stone knife kept him awake.

He took a few steps upstream, confirming there were no floating corpses within hundreds of meters, then forced down several sips of water.

Regaining a bit of strength, Zhao Mu removed his outer garment.

He found a long dry branch and fashioned his clothes into a makeshift net by tying them onto the branch.

If the fish were truly poisoned and floated up, he could use this rudimentary scoop net to catch them.

Turning around, he found those who had trailed him were gone.

Perhaps, like the others before them, they had lost hope and left in disappointment.

This was for the best; if they stayed, they might discover his secret for poisoning fish.

If that happened, not only would they compete for the fish, but also for the wild grass.

After resting by the water’s edge for a moment, Zhao Mu noticed fish belly-up beginning to float to the surface.

He didn’t hesitate, hastily using his improvised net to scoop them.

Since his net was just fashioned from his outer garment and had no holes, scooping fish was especially laborious.

Slowly, he moved the net to the shore, not bothering to haul it out but stepping down a few paces to retrieve the fish inside.

After catching the first fish, several more floated up belly-side, drifting helplessly.

Though pleased to have caught fish, Zhao Mu felt some disappointment.

If he had bait, he could have first gathered fish in a single spot, and the poisoned fish would have floated up in greater numbers.

Also, while this pool was relatively safe, it lacked big fish.

He managed to catch seven or eight fish, mostly small weighing just a few ounces, with the largest about two pounds.

Perhaps bigger fish lurked in the pool, but his dose of poison wasn’t enough to bring them to the surface.

More small fish continued to float up. After scooping them all, Zhao Mu waited a while longer until no more appeared.

He then began processing the small fish.

He roughly scraped off their scales and forced himself to eat them despite the nausea.

The fish’s strong fishy taste instantly filled his mouth, making his stomach churn.

But he couldn’t vomit; he clenched his nausea and chewed hard.

The more he chewed, the stronger the odor.

Not even his former self had ever eaten fish raw so directly.

To avoid vomiting, Zhao Mu swallowed the fish meat vigorously, barely chewing it thoroughly.

He almost choked from swallowing too forcefully.

After much effort, he finally swallowed the fish meat.

He gasped for breath, this time more cautious, biting off only small pieces to avoid choking again.

Having gone without rice for over three days, Zhao Mu dared not eat too much at once.

Feeling about half full and less hungry, he stopped eating.

Out of the dozen or so fish he caught, he ate three or four, leaving about ten remaining, including the two-pounder.

Looking at the fish, Zhao Mu pondered what to do with them.

He never considered giving the fish to starving refugees.

He was no saint; tens of thousands of refugees surrounded Haozhou City, and his meager strength could never save them all.

Moreover, revealing his fishing secret could attract unwanted attention.

But keeping the fish risked drawing eyes as well.

Now, the refugees were starved senseless, and if they learned he had fish, many would come to fight for them.

Those desperate to survive would force him to reveal his secret.

These refugees had long since lost any moral compass; they would do anything to live.

The reason Zhao Mu ate the fish raw instead of cooking it was twofold: he had no means to start a fire, and he feared smoke would attract the refugees.

Outside Haozhou City, food was gone; any smoke rising was quickly noticed by others.

Thus, even cannibals usually ate raw.

Only a few dared to light fires.

Staring at the remaining fish, Zhao Mu decided to keep them.

Since he had caught them, he would never throw them back.

He couldn’t always catch this many fish.

After some thought, Zhao Mu hid the fish in the unused wild grass, then wrapped the grass with his outer garment.

That way, even if others saw him carrying food, they would think it was just poisonous wild grass.

Just as he was about to tie the garment and sling the bundle over his back, a scruffy woman suddenly appeared before him.

She was not only unkempt but had dirt smeared across her face.

At that moment, her eyes locked intently on the bundle Zhao Mu had fashioned with his outer garment.