Chapter 11: Your Turtle Is Really Big

After a while, Meng Shiqiao came back with his head down, looking like a sick chicken.

Meng Ling guessed her dad definitely didn’t agree. It would be strange if he did—just recently they barely had enough food, and the leftover money had to be saved for grain.

“Sis, why don’t we just take some more honey from that hive and sell it?” Meng Shiqiao said.

She replied, “Are you stupid? If we take it now, there won’t be any next year. If we leave it, we can still harvest honey next year, even the year after.”

Meng Shiqiao thought that made sense, so he wanted to ask if his sister had any ideas. “Sis, then what should we do?”

Meng Ling said, “I do have one way.”

Hearing that, Meng Shiqiao immediately brightened up.

“What way?”

Meng Ling said, “Catch some turtles.”

This was an idea she only thought of after returning from the county. When selling honey, she saw people carrying turtles pass by and that gave her the thought.

“How do you catch turtles?” Meng Shiqiao had never seen anyone catch turtles before. Usually, you could only get turtles when the river flooded.

Turtles were quite valuable in Qingping County. People liked to eat turtles here, and there was a famous local dish called Dragon-Phoenix Stew — a genuine local specialty.

Every year people tried all sorts of methods to catch turtles, especially those who liked turtle eggs, which made turtles scarce in the river. But Meng Ling believed catching a few turtles by fishing would be easy enough.

She remembered when she was a child following her grandfather. When the river rose, turtles were easy to find and no one really ate them. She didn’t expect it would be so hard to find river turtles here.

“Follow me!” Meng Ling beckoned him.

The two carried hoes and buckets to a ditch beside the rice fields.

The rice would be harvested in about half a month. The water in the fields was drained, and the irrigation canals blocked off, so the ditch was almost dry.

They blocked off a section of the canal, scooped out the little water left, and used hoes to dig for loaches in the mud.

“There’s one!” Meng Shiqiao shouted.

The loach struggled wildly on the mud, like it was in hot oil. Meng Ling grabbed it and quickly threw it into the bucket.

Loaches were very slippery, so if she was slow it would slip away.

Soon they dug out over half a pound — enough to fish for turtles. The rest could be cooked as dry-fried loach.

Back home, Meng Ling found some thick sewing needles and sharpened both ends.

She tied a string in the middle with hemp rope, then threaded the needle through the loach, hiding the needle point inside its belly. This made a turtle fishing hook.

“Erwa, you handle this method first. I’ll make some bigger net shuttles,” Meng Ling said.

Net shuttles are tools for weaving nets, something she often saw her grandfather use. They helped with winding threads neatly.

“Sis, can we really catch turtles like this?”

Although he didn’t know how to fish, he had seen that fishhooks were usually curved.

Would turtles be that dumb?

Meng Ling said, “Of course. If you don’t believe me, try eating it yourself and see if you get hooked.”

He wasn’t dumb enough to try.

In the evening, the two went to the river with lanterns. Meng Ling walked ahead, holding a stick.

“Sis, maybe we should go back. I’m scared of snakes,” Meng Shiqiao said nervously.

Meng Ling snapped, “With your courage, you’ll probably need your wife to accompany you to the bathroom at night.”

He thought to himself, that would have to wait until he had a wife.

He obediently followed behind. Soon they reached the spot where they had thrown the hooks.

“This is it. Pull it up and see!”

Meng Shiqiao pulled out the net shuttle stuck in the ground, but felt no weight when reeling in.

He was a little disappointed. “Looks like nothing’s there.”

The line was empty and the loach gone. Meng Ling told him to reload the loach and throw it in again.

At the third hook, Meng Shiqiao felt a tug as soon as he pulled the line.

“Something’s moving!”

He quickly reeled it in, moving his hands fast to prevent the turtle from escaping.

“It’s heavy, a big one,” Meng Shiqiao said, feeling the strong pull through the hemp rope, speeding up his pulling.

“Slow down, you might break the needle,” Meng Ling warned.

Newbies always got too impatient.

Meng Shiqiao slowed down, but when he pulled it out, “Not right, it’s not a turtle, it’s a bighead carp.”

The bighead carp weighed around three pounds. After some tugs, he found the hook had been swallowed into its stomach.

Meng Ling said, “Really. Let it go, if we bring it back now, it’ll probably stink by morning.”

He threw the carp back into the river.

After three failed attempts at catching turtles, Meng Ling began to doubt if there were any turtles left in the river.

They soon reached the spot for the fourth hook.

“Sis, this one’s definitely a turtle,” Meng Shiqiao said.

He could tell it felt different and slowly reeled the line in.

“Look, look! Such a big turtle!”

Meng Shiqiao shouted excitedly as the water splashed; the turtle struggled hard, sliding with all four limbs.

“Pull it up quickly,” Meng Ling shouted.

The turtle crawled quickly back into the river once on shore, but Meng Shiqiao grabbed the rope and lifted it up.

“Give it here!”

Meng Ling stepped on the turtle to hold it, holding the hemp rope to prevent it from pulling its head back. They clearly saw the sewing needle pierced and stuck in its neck.

She used tongs to pull the other end of the needle out, then cut the line, taking the needle out before putting the turtle into the bucket.

Meng Shiqiao shouted, “Sis, this turtle’s not small, maybe two or three pounds!”

“Yeah, about that. We still have two chickens. Tomorrow I’ll make you Dragon-Phoenix Stew.”

“What’s Dragon-Phoenix Stew?”

“Turtle stewed with chicken!”

He immediately understood, looking forward to finally eating the long-missed chicken leg.

“Sis, is turtle stewed with chicken delicious?”

Whenever it came to food, he got excited.

Meng Ling confidently said, “Delicious. Stewed chicken is the best. We’ll kill it and eat it tomorrow.”

He said again, “But I want to buy a bow.”

Meng Ling said, “Then sell the turtle to get money.”

“But I also want to eat turtle stew.”

He wanted both.

“That’s called ‘you can’t have both fish and bear’s paw,’ got it?” Meng Ling said.

“Got it. We just need to catch more and we can have both a bow and turtle stew.”

He was really stubborn.

Meng Ling rolled her eyes and kept walking. This time she pulled the line herself, feeling the pull immediately — this one seemed even bigger.

“Wow, this one’s much bigger than the last! Haha!” Meng Shiqiao laughed wide.

He felt the bow was almost within reach.

Then on the fifth hook, the line broke. Meng Ling guessed it was a big one or the hemp rope wasn’t strong enough.

They worked until midnight and caught four turtles.

The next morning, they went to the river again, each carrying a bucket. The first two hooks were empty, so Meng Ling collected them to put somewhere else.

They pulled out yesterday’s bighead carp, cut the line, planning to remove the hook when they killed it at home.

This time they caught three turtles: one over two pounds, one nearly four pounds, and a small one they released.

On their way back, they met Aunt Wang from the village working in the field. Aunt Wang was known for being a fast talker — whatever she knew, everyone in the village knew.

She said, “Wow, your turtle is really big! Where did you catch it?”

“Aunt Wang, why say it like that? You’re insulting us,” Meng Shiqiao said with a frown, “What do you mean by ‘your turtle is really big’?”

Aunt Wang looked puzzled. “What’s wrong with what I said?”

She had no idea what was wrong with her words.

“Aunt Wang, you’d better keep your mouth shut,” Meng Shiqiao said with a smirk.

Whether Aunt Wang said it on purpose or not, it annoyed them enough to turn and leave.

“Sigh, kids these days!”

…

Back home, Meng Shiqiao carried the bucket while his parents washed in the yard.

They used bamboo pipes to bring water from the mountain, very convenient.

“Mom, Dad, look at the turtles we caught,” Meng Shiqiao showed the bucket.

The couple was puzzled by the kids’ secretive behavior, now realizing they had gone turtle hunting — probably to sell and buy a bow.

Meng Liang nodded, “Really big. They sell for more than ten wen per jin! Today’s market day in town. Maybe you can sell a few there.”

Aunt Zhang from next door overheard, quickly came over and looked at the turtles.

“Wow, you caught turtles! Not small ones either. And a bighead carp.”

“These turtles must be worth quite a bit, huh?”

Aunt Zhang said with envy, “How’d you catch them? Where? Teach your aunt, I want to catch some too.”

“Oh, these kids don’t know much. Just got lucky finding them in the field ditches,” Meng Liang said.

“Which ditch has turtles? Don’t try to fool me,” Aunt Zhang didn’t believe it. It must be that Meng Ling girl causing mischief.

She wondered how that girl was so capable, unlike her own daughter who couldn’t even farm properly and hadn’t had turtle stew in ages.

Mrs. Shen stepped forward, “They just got lucky, that’s all.”

They didn’t want to reveal where exactly they caught them, as it was their source of income. So they just said it was luck in the field ditches.