Chapter 200: The Fisherman
When Han Ruzi awoke, daylight had already filled the sky. Though accustomed to having no fixed abode, in that first moment after opening his eyes, he was still startled and unsure of his whereabouts. He sat up abruptly, and only after a moment did he fully regain his bearings as his racing heartbeat gradually returned to normal.
A neat set of new robes lay beside the bed. Han Ruzi put them on and walked out of the room. He had been brought here in the early hours of the morning and hadn’t looked around much before collapsing into bed. Now it was afternoon, and the sunlight reflecting off the snow-covered ground was blindingly bright. Han Ruzi shielded his eyes with his hand, waiting a moment to adjust.
Five buildings were scattered haphazardly along the riverbank with no apparent planning, and there were no courtyard walls. Han Ruzi’s group had crossed the river far downstream the previous night and circled around to this spot. He hadn’t paid attention to the frozen river nearby then, but now found it strange – after traveling so far, they were still by the river. Wouldn’t it be easy for the Southern Army soldiers to find him?
A path had been cleared through the snow leading to the riverbank. As Han Ruzi walked along it, he saw an unfamiliar old man fishing in the distance on the riverbed.
Han Ruzi approached him. The old man, intently watching the hole he had broken in the ice, pointed to a long bamboo pole beside him without looking up and said, “Give me a hand.”
Han Ruzi picked up the pole and gently poked at the oval-shaped hole in the ice a few times, breaking up the floating ice. Then he turned the pole around and used the net on the other end to scoop out the ice chips.
There was a folding stool across from the old man. Han Ruzi sat down and watched him fish for a while, then looked up to study his host. Though the man’s beard was completely white, his skin was smooth, making his age difficult to guess.
Suddenly the old man lifted his rod, grabbing the fishing line with his other hand. A fish over a foot long was hooked on the end. The fish’s movements were not very vigorous – in such cold weather, even death seemed less frightening.
The old man tossed the fish into a wooden bucket beside him and smiled, “You’ve brought good luck – we’ll have fish to eat tonight. I hope you can wait a while.”