Chapter 6: The Space Begins to Reveal Its Power

“Be careful when you go into the water. Stay close to the shore, don’t go into the deep. Last year, Uncle Deng’s son Gou Dan drowned.” Xiao Tieniu admonished with concern.

“All right, I have to get to work now. You and Grandma just stay at home, tidy up a bit, and settle in.” With that, Xiao Tieniu headed out to work.

Xiao Weiguo entered the west room and found that one side was piled with odds and ends, while the other held a single wooden bed with a bamboo mat on top. He placed his clothes on the bed, spoke a word to his grandmother, then took a towel and a hemp rope and made straight for the river.

The river that ran through Xiao Family Village was called the Little Qu River. It wound its way gently along, not particularly deep or wide, but it was enough to nurture all the villages on its banks. Most of the village’s drinking water and irrigation depended on it, followed by the wells scattered around.

Reaching the riverbank, Xiao Weiguo indulged in a refreshing bath. When he finished, he felt like a new man, his body clean and invigorated. He found a calm spot in the water, bent over, and studied his own reflection. Staring back at him was a young man with thick brows and large eyes, a square jaw softened at the chin, a high, straight nose, and tousled yet handsome black hair cropped short—a strikingly handsome lad.

He made for a secluded spot, glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and in a flash, slipped into his private space. Inside, after some thought, he used his mind to dig a water pit along the edge: three meters long, two meters wide, and one meter deep. He wanted to see if he could channel river water into his space, which would make his future fishing endeavors much easier.

Once the pit was ready, Xiao Weiguo exited the space, waded into the river, and tried to move water with his will—but nothing happened. Panic fluttered in his chest. If he couldn’t move things with his mind, what then?

In desperation, he slapped his left palm—where the jade token was embedded—against the water. In an instant, a stream of river water was drawn through the mark into his space. Xiao Weiguo quickly used his mind to direct the water into the pit and was relieved to find that the ground held it well.

So, it seemed, only items passing through the mark could enter or exit for now.

He dipped his left hand into the river and silently absorbed water until the pit was nearly full. Having grown up by the riverside, Xiao Weiguo was a strong swimmer. With a neat somersault, he dove into the water, letting his whole body sink before swimming toward the deeper section.

Big fish never linger in the shallows; if he wanted a good catch, he had to venture into deeper water. As for safety, he had no worries. His swimming skills were more than adequate, and if danger threatened, he could escape into his space with a single thought.

As he swam, he spotted a ten-centimeter carp to his right. He aimed his left palm at it and silently willed it to be collected. Nothing happened—perhaps it was too far. Undeterred, Xiao Weiguo continued to approach the larger fish, using each attempt to gauge the effective range of his ability.

When he was within a meter, the big fish suddenly vanished from the river and appeared in his space. He quickly directed it into the pit.

“Only one meter? That’s a bit close. Hopefully as the space expands, the range improves,” he thought to himself.

He continued to swim through the deeper water, catching only the bigger fish. By midday, he was utterly exhausted. He scrambled ashore, lay on the grass, closed his eyes, and basked in the sun to warm himself.

His mind slipped into the space to take inventory: twenty-eight big fish in all—eight carp, twelve crucian carp, six grass carp, and two snakehead fish. There were also a handful of smaller fish and shrimp.

A bountiful harvest indeed!

He decided to cook one fish for lunch and planned to secretly sell the rest that afternoon.

Once he’d warmed up, he stood, went back to the river, and gathered some large floating duckweed, tossing it into the pit to feed the fish so they wouldn’t starve.

He took out a snakehead fish from his space, threaded it with a grass rope through the gills, and carried it home for lunch. The snakehead was about thirty centimeters long, weighing roughly four pounds. The other snakehead in his space was even longer, about forty centimeters, with teeth that looked fearsome.

As he walked home, he pondered how best to prepare the fish for lunch. Needing an excuse to go out and sell the rest later, he willed a large carp into his empty hand, which promptly fell to the ground. He quickly strung it up, now holding a fish in each hand as he made his way home.

Villagers he passed eyed the fish with astonishment and envy.

“Weiguo, you’re lucky! Where’d you catch these two whoppers? Combined, they must weigh nearly ten pounds!” one villager exclaimed.

“Uncle, it was pure dumb luck. I caught them on the south side of Lower River Bend,” Xiao Weiguo replied.

“I never have that kind of luck. I’ll have to try that spot myself,” the man said, heading toward the spot Xiao Weiguo mentioned.

But even the best luck would be wasted, for Xiao Weiguo had already fished the area clean of big catches; he’d be better off trying elsewhere.

As for the ownership of river resources, in those days, everything belonged to the village collective. If you fished for your own table or quietly sold a few, no one made a fuss. But mass fishing and selling were forbidden. Officially, private sales were not allowed—fish had to be sold to the state-run supply and marketing cooperative, or it was considered profiteering. However, households could barter small amounts of surplus goods, but never in large quantities. So, when the time came, Xiao Weiguo knew he couldn’t say he was selling fish—it had to be trading fish.

Of course, selling to the cooperative was not only approved but also encouraged by the authorities.

That was why he dared bring back two big fish so openly.

Nearing the village entrance, he was suddenly surrounded by a group of children, among them his younger brother, Xiao Weijun.

Weijun trotted up, his eyes bright with excitement as he gazed at the two fish, practically drooling.

“Brother, these fish are huge! Can we eat them?” he asked.

“Go find your big sister and second sister. Come to Grandpa’s house, and we’ll cook one for lunch,” Xiao Weiguo replied.

“Big sister and second sister are out cutting pigweed. I’ll go get them on the mountain,” Weijun called as he dashed off.

Children in these times began working for the family as soon as they could remember, each one a little laborer. The two pigs at home survived thanks to the sisters’ daily trips to the hills to cut pigweed—without that, they’d have no feed, since even people barely had enough to eat.

In those days, a village pig raised for a year would only reach a little over a hundred pounds; more was impossible. At year’s end, every household had to hand in their quota pigs.

With a trail of children behind him, Xiao Weiguo returned to his grandparents’ house, already mulling over how to prepare that snakehead fish for lunch.