A Night by the River

28

On a clear night, the sky seemed higher and farther away.

The temperature was even lower in the evening.

Walking through the neighborhood, the cold wind stung my cheeks. I pulled my scarf tighter and switched hands to carry the water bucket.

Before long, we reached the riverbank.

The shore was flat, and the river was wide. The shimmering waves were interspersed with reflections of the stars.

Tonight was so beautiful it looked like a painting—of course, only if we weren't in it to ruin the atmosphere.

Chris stood to the side with a large wooden ladder on his back.

Since no one was at home to assist us, we didn't dare leave the ladder behind, so we had to carry it with us.

Anne and I each carried seven or eight empty plastic water buckets. The buckets clattered noisily with every step we took.

"Helen," Anne put down her bucket and observed the water, "there are fish."

"The little river has fish," Chris repeated nonsensically.

I couldn't tell which of them was trying to make a pun.

Ignoring them, I squatted down.

The duckweed on the river's surface had withered under the onslaught of the cold.

With the light from above, I could see many fish in the water.

They varied in size, most of them staying still. Occasionally, a few would dart through the group, disappearing into the deeper water.

Remembering the fishing gear at home, I swallowed my saliva.

"Chris..." Judging by Anne's expression, she was thinking the same thing.

"How can you just call the captain by his name?" I winked at her.

"Yes, yes." She immediately caught on.

"Captain Carter."

"Mr. Carter."

"It was a complete misunderstanding before, just a stereotype..."

"There's no sport cooler than fishing..."

"Captain Carter brought the fishing gear home to broaden our diet..."

"Mr. Carter brought the fishing gear home to provide us with meat..."

"It's been so long since we had fish..."

"Please catch some fish for us..."

Anne and I sang in unison.

"Well, it's not impossible."

Every time he said that, I knew he was about to bargain.

"It's just that the fishing time will also count towards my work hours."

As expected, Chris was scheming to fish on company time.

I couldn't help but suspect that the whole water-fetching plan was part of his cunning plot.

"Captain Carter, your ideological level is lacking. How can you calculate work hours for things that serve the collective good?" Anne argued logically.

"Exactly," I agreed. "As the captain, you can't set an example by constantly going on strike."

Chris pretended not to hear, smiling all the while.

A smiling tiger, I thought.

"Fine..." I compromised. "But it only counts if you actually catch fish."

While filling a bucket with water, Anne sighed and lamented, "Helen, if you negotiated like this at work, you'd bankrupt your boss sooner or later."

I was about to redeem myself when I looked up and saw a pair of glowing green eyes.

It was a cat.

The cat was entirely black, except for a small white spot on its nose.

It was sleek and well-fed, not emaciated at all.

It stood motionless, half-hidden in the thick underbrush, its head lowered and its gray-green eyes watching us warily.

"It seems this is its territory," Chris noted.

"Kitty," I called softly, "come here to me."

The cat's eyes were large and round. It took two steps back, watching my outstretched hand, then darted into the underbrush.

"Could this river be the cat's pond?" Anne asked, filling another bucket.

"If so, the cat's hard days are coming," I said, reluctantly withdrawing my hand and hoisting the full bucket onto my shoulder. "Not only will we steal its water, but Chris will also steal its fish."

---