The aroma of pork fat and rice lingered in the small shack like a protective talisman. For the first time in years, the Zhao household woke up not to the gnawing pain of hunger, but to the warmth of a full stomach.
Zhao Xu sat on a stool outside, mending a torn bamboo basket. His hands moved with a dexterity that surprised even him, muscle memory from the original owner blending with his own modern patience. He watched his children. Dalang and Erlang were chopping firewood with renewed vigor, their swings rhythmic and strong. The younger girls were scrubbing the few clay pots they owned, their faces flushed.
"Father," a small voice piped up.
Zhao Xu looked down. It was Sanniang, the ten-year-old. She was holding the hand of the twin toddlers, Silang and Wulang. The boys looked better already—the color was returning to their sallow cheeks, though their bellies were still distended from long-term malnutrition.
"Yes?" Zhao Xu asked gently.
"Mother... I mean, First Sister says the tide is very low today. She says the beach goes out very far."
Zhao Xu's eyes lit up. *Spring tide.* The gravitational pull of the moon and sun aligned, causing the tide to recede further than usual, exposing the seabed that was normally hidden under meters of water. In the modern world, this was a forager's paradise. Here, it was a chance to harvest seafood that was usually out of reach.
"Good eyes, Sanniang," Zhao Xu praised, reaching out to ruffle the twins' hair. "Go tell your brothers to stop chopping. We are going to the beach."
"The beach?" Erlang asked, wiping sweat from his brow. "To dig clams?"
"Not just clams," Zhao Xu said, standing up. He walked over to the small jar of salt he had purchased yesterday. He took a scoop, wrapping it carefully in a broad leaf. "Bring the baskets. And bring the buckets. Today, we hunt."
***
The beach was a vast expanse of grey-brown mud and wet sand, stretching out towards the retreating horizon. The air was crisp, biting at their skin. Villagers were already scattered across the tidal flats, mostly women and children digging for common clams with small hand rakes.
Zhao Xu led his children past the crowded areas, heading towards a rocky outcrop that jutted out near the edge of the mangrove forest. The ground here was treacherous, covered in sharp oyster shells and slippery algae.
"Careful," Zhao Xu warned. "Dalang, Erlang, watch your sisters."
He stopped at a section of the beach that looked unremarkable—just a patch of sand dotted with small, coin-sized holes. To the untrained eye, it was barren. But Zhao Xu knew better. These were the burrows of Razor Clams (*Solen strictus*), a delicacy in the modern world, often ignored by locals here who didn't know how to catch them efficiently.
"Watch closely," Zhao Xu said, kneeling.
He took the packet of salt he had brought. He scooped a small amount and poured it into one of the holes.
"Father, why are you wasting salt?" Erlang asked, horrified. Salt was money. Throwing it into the sand seemed like madness.
"Just watch," Zhao Xu murmured.
Seconds later, the water inside the hole bubbled. A slimy, pinkish-brown protrusion shot up from the sand, sensing the change in salinity. It tried to escape the irritation.
*Slash!*
Zhao Xu's hand was a blur. He grabbed the protrusion and pulled. A long, slender clam, easily six inches in length, slid out of the sand, wriggling in his grip.
"A Razor Clam!" Dalang gasped. "Those are hard to catch! They dig faster than we can dig!"
"Salt forces them up," Zhao Xu explained, dropping the clam into a bucket. "They dislike the high salinity. It burns them, so they try to escape. That is the moment you strike."
He handed the salt packet to Erlang. "You try. Be gentle with the salt, and fast with your hand."
For the next two hours, the Zhao family worked like a well-oiled machine. Erlang poured the salt; Dalang and Zhao Xu snatched the clams. The younger children gathered the clams that fell back into the buckets. It was tedious work, requiring focus and speed, but the yield was incredible.
By the time the tide began to turn, they had filled two large buckets with Razor Clams, along with a few large Rock Crabs they found hiding under the algae.
"Enough," Zhao Xu said, wiping mud from his forehead. "The tide is coming back. We leave."
As they trudged back towards the village, their heavy buckets swinging between them, they attracted attention.
"Look at that," a neighbor, Auntie Wang, whispered to her companion. "The gambler's brood... they caught that many clams? And look at those shells... Razor Clams? How did they dig those out so whole?"
"They say Dazhu hit his head and woke up a different man," the companion replied, eyeing the buckets with envy. "Maybe he knocked some sense in, or maybe he's possessed by a river god."
Zhao Xu ignored the whispers. He was calculating. Razor Clams sold for a good price in the town restaurants. They were sweet, tender, and required little preparation.
Just as they reached the village path, a figure stepped out from behind a large banyan tree.
It was Zhao Sanhu, the Third Brother.
Sanhu was a thin, wiry man with a perpetually anxious expression. He held a small, broken fishing net in his hands. He looked at Zhao Xu's buckets, then at his own net, his face twisting into a look of helpless envy.
"Big Brother," Sanhu greeted him, his voice low. "You... you had a good harvest."
Zhao Xu looked at this brother. In the original memories, Sanhu was a good man, beaten down by life. He had three daughters and one son, and because he hadn't produced a male heir early on (until recently), he was mocked by the main family. His wife was sickly, and he struggled to feed his children.
"Third Brother," Zhao Xu nodded. "Where are you going?"
"The net tore again," Sanhu sighed, looking at the ground. "I was hoping to catch some fish for lunch, but... Mother says I waste my time fishing and should be farming the rented plot." He kicked the dirt. "But the crops are months away. My daughters are hungry today."
Zhao Xu paused. This was the moment. He needed allies. The main family, led by the Second Brother and the biased parents, was a sinking ship. He needed to detach his decent siblings from the rot.
"Sanhu," Zhao Xu said, stepping closer and lowering his voice. "Farming is hard, but the sea is generous if you know where to look."
He pointed to the buckets. "We used salt to catch these. It's a trick I learned... in a dream."
Sanhu blinked. "Salt?"
"It works for clams and crabs. Tomorrow, take your daughters to the rocky outcrop by the mangroves during low tide. Use cheap salt. Don't dig. Just pour and grab."
Sanhu's eyes widened. "Really? But... if I go there, Mother will scold me for not farming."
"Mother scolds you regardless," Zhao Xu said sharply. "Does she feed you when you farm? No. The Second Brother eats the grain, and you get the husks. Feed your children first, Sanhu. A man who cannot feed his family has no face to lose."
Sanhu stood frozen, the words hitting him like a physical blow. He had been submissive for so long, enduring the insults for the sake of "filial piety."
"Take this," Zhao Xu said, grabbing a handful of Razor Clams—about two catties' worth—and dumping them into Sanhu's broken net. "For your daughters. Go home now before the Old Madame sees."
Sanhu looked at the clams, then up at Zhao Xu. His eyes reddened. "Brother... why? I am useless, everyone says so."
"You are not useless," Zhao Xu said, turning back to his children to signal their departure. "You are just blind to the trap you are in. Open your eyes, Third Brother."
***
Back at the shack, the mood was celebratory. The clams were cleaned and soaked in water to spit out the sand. Zhao Xu kept a portion for dinner—a spicy stir-fry with garlic and the last of the pork fat—and prepared the rest for sale.
"Father," Yiniang said, coming to his side as he sorted the catch. "The twins... they found something."
"Found something?"
She pointed to the corner of the yard. The twins were squatting over a small hole, poking at it with sticks.
Zhao Xu walked over. "What is it?"
Silang looked up, grinning. "Fish! Fish!"
Zhao Xu peered into the hole. It was a small puddle in the yard, barely a few inches deep. In it, flopping weakly, was a small, silver fish—likely dropped by a bird or washed up by a freak wave during a storm.
It was a *Mudskipper*.
Zhao Xu chuckled. "It's a mudskipper, son. Too small to eat."
"No eat," Wulang said stubbornly. "Pet. Friend."
Zhao Xu stared at his son. The boy had never had a toy, never had a pet. The only interaction with animals he knew was killing them for food.
*A pet,* Zhao Xu thought. *In my old life, I had a goldfish. It was relaxing.*
He smiled, a genuine, soft smile. "Alright. Put it in a clay jar with water. But you have to feed it. Catching bugs is your job."
The twins cheered, their earlier lethargy completely gone.
Zhao Xu stood up, looking at his bustling yard. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the rundown shack. It was still a shack, full of cracks and drafts. But for the first time, it felt like a home.
"Erlang," Zhao Xu called out. "Tomorrow, we don't go to the beach."
"We don't?" Erlang asked, disappointed. "But the clams..."
"The tide will be high in the morning," Zhao Xu said. "We have enough clams to sell. Tomorrow, we go to the town. We need to buy needles, thread, and rope. And..."
He looked at the vast ocean in the distance.
"...And I need to see the price of wood. Even a few planks. If we are to survive the winter, we need to repair this house, and we need to build a raft. A real one."
"A raft?" Dalang asked, excitement rising. "To go into the water?"
"To go where the fish are plentiful," Zhao Xu confirmed.
He turned back to the buckets of clams. "But first, tonight, we sell. Yiniang, get the baskets. We are going to the fishmonger."
As they prepared to leave for the evening market, a shadow fell across the gate. It wasn't a relative this time. It was a stranger—a man in a blue robe, looking travel-worn, holding a fancy fan that seemed out of place in this poor village.
He looked at Zhao Xu, then at the buckets of seafood.
"You are Zhao Dazhu?" the man asked, his voice smooth but arrogant. "My master heard you have fresh Razor Clams. He wishes to buy them. Name your price."
Zhao Xu narrowed his eyes. A direct buyer? In this village?
"Who is your master?" Zhao Xu asked cautiously.
The man smiled, a sharp, fox-like smile. "My master is the Steward of the Liu Family. The biggest restaurant in town, *The Drunken Immortal*, belongs to them."
Zhao Xu's heart skipped a beat. *The Liu Family.* Powerful nobles. If he could establish a connection there, he wouldn't have to haggle with petty fishmongers anymore.
"I have about thirty catties," Zhao Xu said calmly, hiding his internal excitement. "Fresh, purged in clean water."
"Excellent," the servant said. "My master offers 3 copper coins per catty." (Market price was usually 2).
"5 copper coins," Zhao Xu countered without blinking. "They are hand-caught, undamaged, and large. You won't find quality like this in the market."
The servant stared at him, surprised by the bargaining power of a village peasant. Finally, he chuckled. "4 coins. Take it or leave it."
Zhao Xu nodded. "Deal."
He handed over the buckets. In return, he received a heavy pouch of 120 copper coins. It was the most money the original Zhao Dazhu had held in five years.
As the servant left, Zhao Xu weighed the pouch in his hand. It wasn't just money. It was a bridge.
"Father," Dalang whispered, staring at the coins. "That is... so much."
"It is a start," Zhao Xu said, tying the pouch securely. "A start to a boat, a house, and a future."
He looked up at the darkening sky. The stars were beginning to appear, brighter than any city light.
"Come inside," he said to his children. "It's time to plan. The world is big, and we are just getting started."