The moon was bright and the stars were sparse.
Langtou Village was quiet, with an occasional dog bark.
In front of the village.
The sea stretched out boundlessly.
At the small Wharf.
About ten small fishing boats were moored.
From time to time, the sound of fish leaping and splashing back into the water could be heard from the sea.
Next to the small Wharf was a beach, as white as snow, extending one or two kilometers to the east, followed by layers of Reefs, some as small as a fist, others as large as small mountains, tens of meters high, covered with razor-sharp oyster shells and wet, slippery seaweed.
Waves crashed, water splashed, and the sounds, from a gentle lapping to a thunderous roar, carried far.
On the beach next to the Reef, a person lay prostrate, half submerged in the sea.
Zhao Dahai suddenly sat up, a wave of nausea rushing to his throat.
"Ugh!"
Zhao Dahai knelt, supporting himself with his hands, first spitting out mouthfuls of seawater, then bile, and finally dry retching, throwing up until he was dizzy. He didn't know how long it lasted before he stopped.
The night sky was high and distant.
Rebirth?
Had he been reborn?
Zhao Dahai lay on the cold beach, eyes wide, his chest heaving violently as he gasped for air, tears welling up in his eyes. At this moment, he had just passed his eighteenth birthday. Two years ago, on his sixteenth birthday, his parents went fishing and encountered a strong wind. Their bodies were never found, dead or alive. After this immense change, he lacked discipline, engaging in petty theft, fighting, and drinking, becoming a complete hooligan. One night, he drank two catties of cheap, watered-down liquor, went to the seaside, climbed onto a Reef, missed his footing, fell into the sea, and swallowed a bellyful of seawater, thinking he had died. Unexpectedly, when he opened his eyes again, he was back at eighteen.
Was God blind?
Why wasn't he reborn two years earlier? That way, he could have stopped his parents from going fishing and changed their fate.
What did this mean now?
Was he to suffer again?
Another life as a hooligan?
Marry a rich, beautiful woman and reach the pinnacle of life?
A hooligan from a Fishing Village, how could he have such ability?
What was the meaning of living such a life again?
Might as well just die!
Zhao Dahai got up and rushed towards the Reef. Rebirth?
I don't care for it!
My life is mine to control. If I want to die, no one can stop me.
Zhao Dahai gritted his teeth, using his hands and feet to climb the highest Reef. Just as he was about to stand up and jump, he suddenly saw the solitary two-room tiled house at the eastern end of the village, its light on, and he was struck as if by lightning.
"Oh my God!"
"Might as well die!?"
"How could I have such a thought!?"
...
"It's better to live poorly than to die well!"
...
"I'm not human!"
"Even a hooligan can burn paper and pour two cups of wine for his parents every year!"
"If I die, it's over, and I'll be at peace!"
"Who will take care of Grandma Zhong Cuihua in her old age and bury her!?"
...
Zhao Dahai slapped himself frantically. Past memories and future experiences flooded his mind, and he cried out in pain. He didn't know how long it lasted, but then he stumbled towards the village.
At the easternmost end of the village.
Two tiled houses, one large and one small.
Zhao Dahai took a deep breath. The courtyard gate was unlocked and opened with a push. He walked in. A familiar yet strange feeling surged through him. This was the place where he had grown up, every inch of it intimately familiar. He looked towards the main hall; the door was open, a kerosene lamp sat on the table, and next to it, an old woman with white hair and a wrinkled face sat on a low stool, a torn fishing net stretched out in front of her, a netting needle in her hand, mending it.
Zhao Dahai's nose tingled. Two years ago, after his parents passed away, he became a lazy, good-for-nothing scoundrel. His Grandma Zhong Cuihua, over seventy years old, relied on weaving fishing nets to earn money, desperately supporting the family.
Zhao Dahai was filled with a lingering fear. A white-haired person burying a black-haired person was the most painful thing in the world. Grandma Zhong Cuihua had already experienced it once. If he had truly jumped off the Reef, and she had to go through it again, she definitely wouldn't be able to bear it.
Zhao Dahai took several deep breaths, composed himself, and strode into the house.
"Grandma Zhong Cuihua!"
"What time is it already!"
"Stop mending the net!"
"Go to sleep!"
Zhao Dahai walked up to Zhong Cuihua.
"Huh?"
"When did you get back?"
Zhong Cuihua looked up, habitually smoothing her hair with the netting needle in her hand.
"Just got back!"
"Come on, come on!"
"Time to sleep!"
Zhao Dahai knew Grandma Zhong Cuihua was a bit hard of hearing due to her age and hadn't heard him when he pushed the gate open and entered the courtyard.
"Oh!"
"Why sleep?"
"This fishing net needs to be mended. People will come to pick it up tomorrow!"
Zhong Cuihua shook her head.
"I'll mend this fishing net!"
"You go to sleep!"
Zhao Dahai said as he pulled Zhong Cuihua to her feet.
"What are you doing, child?"
"I'm not tired at all. I'm old. I sleep less. I'll sleep after I finish the work."
Zhong Cuihua didn't want to go to sleep.
Zhao Dahai coaxed and pulled, sending Zhong Cuihua back to her room. After she lay down for a while, soft snores began to sound.
Not tired?
Sleeps less because of old age?
How could that be?
Someone who isn't tired, who is old, and sleeps less, yet falls asleep and snores as soon as they lie down?
Zhao Dahai pulled up the quilt, then turned and went back to the main hall. He sat down, picked up the netting needle, and began mending the fishing net. At first, he was a bit rusty, having not done this work for decades, but it was a skill every child, boy or girl, growing up in a Fishing Village learned. In about ten minutes, he became more and more proficient, his fingers flying, and the holes in the fishing net disappeared one by one.
A hint of dawn appeared on the horizon.
The roosters in the village crowed, each louder than the last, stretching their necks.
Zhao Dahai rubbed his tired eyes and looked at the old pendulum clock on the wall. It had only been about two hours, and he was exhausted. He truly didn't know how his seventy-something-year-old Grandma Zhong Cuihua had managed to endure for the past two years.
Zhao Dahai neatly arranged the fishing net, tied it with a rope, and set it aside for someone to pick up later. He went into the kitchen, put rice on, lit the fire, cooked the porridge, let it simmer, then opened the lid to let it cool.
The sky grew brighter and brighter.
The sun rose.
Zhao Dahai left the kitchen and stood in the courtyard. It wasn't very large, about a hundred square meters, with a concrete floor. The wind by the sea was strong, so a thick layer of sand had accumulated. He looked up at the roof and saw a lot of grass growing there. A one-meter-tall banyan tree was very conspicuous in the corner of the wall. He walked into the main hall; various items were piled up haphazardly, covered in half an inch of dust. There were several holes in the roof, letting in light, which surely meant leaks when it rained.
Zhao Dahai gave a bitter smile. This was all his fault. An eighteen-year-old young man, doing no work all day, while his seventy-something-year-old Grandma Zhong Cuihua had to weave and mend fishing nets daily to earn money for food. Where would she find the time to tidy the house or fix the leaky roof? She couldn't climb up, and they had no money to hire someone, so they just had to live with it.
Zhao Dahai heard a sound from the inner room and quickly walked in. A moment later, he helped Zhong Cuihua out into the courtyard.
"Grandma Zhong Cuihua."
"Have some porridge."
"I'll tidy up the house in a bit."
Zhao Dahai set up chairs and stools, filled a bowl with the cooled porridge, and placed it in front of Zhong Cuihua. He quickly drank a bowl of porridge himself and began to get busy. He cleared out the old, broken things and trash from the main hall, inner room, and kitchen, arranged the remaining items neatly, and wiped the dust off tables, chairs, cabinets, and windows. After tidying the house, he started cleaning the courtyard. He picked up a shovel and removed all the sand, then swept it clean. He set up a ladder, climbed onto the roof, pulled out the wild grass that had grown, severed the banyan tree growing in the brick crack of the wall, carefully removed its fine roots, and covered the broken and leaky spots with old tiles left over from building the house. Finally, he fetched water, bucket after bucket, and vigorously rinsed the house and courtyard floors.
Zhong Cuihua sat on the low stool, watching Zhao Dahai work, constantly wiping away tears.
Zhao Dahai didn't say anything. Grandma Zhong Cuihua had been exhausted these past two years, and the main reason was his own foolishness, which had caused her endless worry. Now, seeing him become sensible, she couldn't control herself. This was happiness, and he didn't need to intervene.
Evening.
The sun was setting in the west.
In front of the courtyard.
A small mountain of trash was piled up.
Zhao Dahai struck a match and lit it. The sea breeze blew, a plume of smoke rose, and the fire roared.
"Father!"
"Mother!"
"I won't mess around anymore!"
"I'll work hard to earn money and live a good life."
"I'll let Grandma Zhong Cuihua live a few comfortable days."
Reborn only to die again?
Or continue to live a life of idleness, waiting to die?
He wouldn't have such thoughts or do such things.
Grandma Zhong Cuihua had lost her son in her old age and suffered greatly. He was a man; he had to support the entire family and let her enjoy a few years of comfort.
Marry and have children.
Live a good life.
This was what his parents most wanted to see.
Zhao Dahai looked at the blazing fire, secretly vowing.
