Chapter 049: Red Shale

Zhang Tan originally wanted to go home with his parents to guide them on how to assemble the computer, install games, and manage the rules. However, his parents, Tan Mingxia and Zhang Quanshun, were firmly opposed. They already felt guilty for making Zhang Tan spend an entire morning buying a computer and absolutely refused to let him waste more time away from his studies.

“Mom, do you really think I still need to worry about my grades?” Zhang Tan began to instill his ideas into his parents.

“Of course you do. Your most important task right now is studying, understand? Writing novels is for your spare time. Do you plan to write novels for your whole life?”

“Why not? The response to my novels has been great. The magazine has already called to urge me for more chapters. Whatever I write, they accept. Once I have enough published, there’ll definitely be opportunities for a book deal. With writing, I could be set for life!”

Tan Mingxia shook her head repeatedly. “It’s not the same. School is a must. Writing novels is great, but it’s not a stable job. Once you’re in university and graduate, if you truly want to write, I won’t stop you. But for now, listen to me and focus on your studies.”

Zhang Tan wanted to argue further, but Zhang Quanshun stopped him. “Yangyang, listen to your mother. You’re still young, don’t worry about earning money yet. That’s for us to consider.”

There was no point in arguing further. Zhang Tan sighed and asked, “Mom, Dad, have you ever heard of Han Jingming?”

“No.”

“Never mind, then.”

Seeing his parents off, Zhang Tan felt helpless.

Studying and getting into university has become ingrained in the Chinese psyche, as if university is the ultimate measure of success or failure. Despite his serialized novel and helping the family open an internet café, he still couldn’t change his parents’ minds or earn his freedom.

Since he couldn’t change them, Zhang Tan decided to give up for now. If his parents wanted him to stay in school and study diligently, he would do just that—blend in, and perhaps change their minds later, or simply get into a university to please them. He had already promised himself to fulfill his filial duty as best he could.

This led to a new dilemma.

“Should I aim for Tsinghua, or settle for Lanxiang?”

Returning to school, Zhang Tan didn’t attend class. He had taken the whole day off and didn’t intend to waste it. He had planned to surf the internet at the café and check out the latest trends, but the café was full. Not wanting to stand around, he headed back to his rented room. Slinging his guitar over his shoulder, he set out across the road.

He was about to embark on a late summer excursion.

Shuangdun Middle School is situated in the countryside, surrounded by beautiful mountains and clear waters—a perfect place for leisure. Otherwise, Yuan Yi Golf Course wouldn’t have chosen this location. Across the road lies a stretch of farmland, followed by the He-Beng passenger railway, with twin tracks running parallel. When Zhang Tan was in his first year of high school in his previous life, a fatal incident occurred on those tracks.

A student was reading on the rails, so engrossed that he didn’t notice the train approaching. He was struck and thrown, his body torn apart, and when the family came to collect his remains, they had to search far and wide to assemble them all.

It was a tragedy.

Unfortunately, Zhang Tan hadn’t paid attention to who that student was at the time. Now, even if he wanted to intervene, he couldn’t find the person. He couldn’t go around warning each student not to walk on the tracks, to avoid getting hit. Every high-schooler knows the risks, but few can restrain themselves—including Zhang Tan, who was now eagerly heading over to walk the rails. Even after a death in his previous life, students continued to wander the tracks.

Advice had little effect.

Besides, who knows if such a fatal accident would happen again in this life.

…

On the other side of the tracks was a river, its banks high, but the water shallow. There was no bridge, only a dirt road crossing the river, with two large culverts below to allow the water to flow. After crossing the river and moving forward, there was more farmland, clustered around several ponds. One, waist-deep, was where Zhang Tan once learned to swim.

It was mid-October, and the rice had been harvested, leaving bare stubble.

A few crows were searching the fields for leftover grain. Seeing Zhang Tan approach, they cawed loudly, flapped their wings, and flew to another field.

The golden stubble and soaring crows stirred Zhang Tan’s musical spirit. Holding his guitar, he strummed aimlessly and sang, “Do you remember, you said home was the only castle, following the scent of rice as the river flows on. With a faint smile, childhood dreams, I know…”

After a spontaneous performance, he felt satisfied.

Zhang Tan slung his guitar and returned to the railway, walking along the tracks, past an underpass, through a small grove, until he reached a grassy hill—his destination for the excursion.

Climbing the hill, he could see its far side.

There lay a small valley, known as Lovers’ Valley.

At its center was a lake, embraced on three sides by trees, called Lovers’ Lake.

As the name suggests, this was the top rendezvous spot for young couples from Shuangdun Middle School. Legend had it that many pairs of lovebirds, unable to afford a hotel, would come to the lakeside—earth as mattress, sky as blanket—for their secret trysts. To verify the rumor, Zhang Tan and several bored classmates once came to investigate.

Regrettably, they never found any of the stimulating evidence—no blood-stained sanitary pads, no foamy condoms, no heaps of red-and-white tissues.

It was a crystal-clear lake where small fish could be seen swimming—typical rural species like whiskered catfish, grass carp, and little oil-striped fish.

The so-called whiskered catfish were a type of catfish, scientifically known as Huzi catfish, scaleless, with two whiskers on their mouth. The “mixers” referred to the most common grass carp in Chinese rivers and lakes, one of the four major domesticated fish. In some places, it also means black carp, but here it meant grass carp, as locals called grass carp “grass mixers.”

Why grass carp and black carp were called mixers, Zhang Tan didn’t know. He just knew that the local rascals were also called “mixers.”

The last kind, little oil-striped fish, was a dialect term—pronounced “little oil cān zi”—referring to oil-striped minnow.

These fish are found everywhere—rivers, lakes, ponds, ditches, streams—wherever there’s water, there are oil-striped minnows, about a finger’s length, silvery and slender. Though small, they’re carnivorous and can bite. When Zhang Tan played in the lake as a child, adults would warn, “Protect your little puppy, don’t let the oil-striped fish bite it off.”

What is the little puppy?

Zhang Tan smiled and said nothing.

…

Lovers’ Lake was surrounded by trees on three sides, but the side facing the hill was flat.

Because it was actually a large slab of rock.

Though the hill appeared grassy on the approach, its far side was composed of red shale, forming a cliff-like outcrop. The red shale base was a single piece, slanting into Lovers’ Lake, and the lake itself formed atop this rock.

The stone was clean; lying on it, with the red shale cliff on one side and the rippling lake on the other, was an experience with its own unique flavor.

It was no wonder the place was famed for young couples conceiving children—it really was perfect for wilderness romance.

“I wonder if I’ll ever get the chance to recline here with a beautiful girl?”

Cradling his guitar, Zhang Tan mused.