The sizzling sound filled the air, and the fish, still bubbling with oil, released a mouthwatering aroma. John Chou rubbed lard and salt onto the fish, which was now roasted to a golden brown. He took it off the fire and began sharing it with Zane Zhuang.
Zane Zhuang always wanted to be strict with this young master, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Somehow, John Chou’s endless, unheard-of theories always managed to convince him.
“Young Master, this tastes amazing. So fragrant—I’ve never eaten fish this delicious before.”
John Chou laughed and took out a small jar of lard and some salt.
"Zane, you know, lard is used in winter to keep out the cold, and in summer to prevent dryness. Hardly anyone eats it, but honestly, it tastes great—so fragrant! If something smells this good, putting it on fish has to make it even better."
“Alright, Young Master, can we go back now? The sun’s already out.”
John Chou finished the last bite of fish, then buried the bones in the snow. He clapped his hands together, putting on a prayerful expression.
“Sorry, little fish. For the sake of my stomach, I had to eat you.”
Zane Zhuang blinked.
“What are you doing, Young Master? It’s normal for people to eat fish.”
"Who decided that?"
Zane Zhuang couldn't answer for a moment, but he was still frustrated—after all, the other party was just a five-year-old child.
"Of course, Heaven did."
As he spoke, Zane Zhuang pointed up at the sky and continued.
"Man is the head of all things, so..."
John Chou burst out laughing, running and jumping away. Zane Zhuang hurried after him, but couldn't help feeling a little unhappy. He knew John Chou could easily have rebutted him, but chose not to—and somehow, that made Zane Zhuang even more annoyed.
He remembered that night when John Chou was three and a half. If Victor Fan hadn’t scared John Chou with a toothless venomous snake, John would never have revealed that he could talk and walk. At such a young age, he’d learned so much—especially reading, which surprised Zane Zhuang. Even John Youchen had only barely learned to read at five.
After that, John Chou made it clear he didn’t want to inherit the family business, claiming he’d just keep acting foolish. But Victor Fan spoke directly to him about the Henderson Family’s situation: if John Chou didn’t inherit, then after Henry Henderson passed, life for him and his mother would be very hard.
Zane Zhuang had thought John Chou wouldn’t grasp such complicated matters, but to his surprise, John understood immediately—and even bargained with Victor Fan. In the end, Victor agreed to let John Chou choose for himself: he would walk at four, and speak at five.
Privately, Victor Fan was delighted when teaching John Chou, as if he’d seen something that excited him to the core. Zane Zhuang didn’t need to be told—John’s intelligence far exceeded Victor’s expectations. He only needed to be taught once to understand, and after a few days, could extrapolate and apply what he’d learned. Sometimes, John’s questions even stumped Victor, who had to think long and hard before answering.
John Chou, so that his mother and he wouldn’t fall into hardship after Henry Henderson’s death, began to gradually reveal certain things. Though only a little at a time, Henry Henderson was thrilled and poured everything into the family, determined to raise John Chou as the Hendersons’ future master.
After climbing down from the wall again, Zane Zhuang widened his eyes—Victor Fan seemed to have been waiting for them for a long time.
"Heh heh, Victor Fan, how did you guess I’d be here?"
Victor Fan smiled.
"When you do things, remember to clean up after yourself. Don’t always make others do it for you, John. You’re clever, but the room left evidence. You read a fishing manual before, so you wanted to try it out. So, after you tried, what did you learn?"
John Chou repeated what he’d told Zane Zhuang before: the most important step in fishing. He looked at Victor Fan, very pleased with himself.
"Not bad, John. You figured that out yourself. But besides this step, timing and location matter too. Sometimes, even if you have the best rod and bait, the fish just won’t bite."
"Why?"
Victor Fan slowed his steps as he walked, and John Chou’s curiosity was immediately piqued.
"Tell me quickly, Teacher."
At this, Victor Fan turned to glance at Zane Zhuang.
"What do you think, Zane? Why is it sometimes you just can’t catch any fish?"
Zane Zhuang slapped his forehead, then smiled and replied.
"I once heard an old fisherman say that fishing is all about the fish’s mood. And what determines the fish’s mood is the weather and the water. If the fish is in a bad mood, it’ll stay at the bottom, and no matter how good your bait is, it won’t see it and won’t bite."
John Chou curled his lips and glanced at Zane Zhuang, then let out a cold snort.
"John, your thinking is agile and your mind jumps quickly, but sometimes reality is far more complicated than you imagine. If your bait isn’t working, you need to prepare more. To accomplish something, you need both insight and foresight. Ultimately, what determines success or failure is preparation. One hand alone isn’t enough—everything in this world is as unpredictable as the weather."
Victor Fan pointed at the sky. John Chou glanced at him, puzzled.
"Today won’t stay clear all day. By noon, it’ll snow."
"You’re tricking me, Teacher. It’s such nice weather right now."
"Then let’s make a bet, John. If I win, you have to listen to Zane Zhuang these next few days—no running off."
John Chou’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Deal!"
But by noon, the weather suddenly shifted. The temperature dropped, and snow began to fall. John Chou couldn’t figure out how Victor Fan had predicted the change, but he seemed deep in thought, pondering his teacher’s abilities.
"It’s the wind, John. Wind is the most unstable thing—it can bring rain and nourish all life, or it can bring frost and disaster. But wind is something you can see."
"So that’s it. You mean you need several kinds of preparation, right, Teacher? Is that what you wanted to tell me?"
Victor Fan looked at John Chou with a hint of surprise, then sighed and shook his head.
"Sigh, John, do you really not want to look beyond your own world?"
"No, what’s the point? The world is just people, and people are the world. I won’t sacrifice everything for these things. I just want to be happy."
Zane Zhuang smiled and nodded—he agreed with this perspective.
"Alright, John, I’ll go prepare. Remember to come to the study early and make a list for the Henderson Family."
"Got it, Teacher."
After Victor Fan left, John Chou sat in the courtyard, resting and planning to go over in the afternoon.
"By the way, Zane, cabbage might get expensive soon, and as for pork, you’d better not mess with it. If you can, start with cabbage and greens, maybe even lamb. You used to like working with pork, but that’s the most obvious—if Grandpa finds out, he’ll be mad."
Zane Zhuang responded with an "oh," blinking in disbelief at John Chou, as if he was seeing something unusual. He walked over, following John’s gaze, but saw nothing.
"Young Master, what are you looking at?"
"What will tomorrow be like? A lot of people say keeping your feet on the ground is best, but isn’t that just basic? No matter what you do, if you don’t keep your feet on the ground, you’ll fall. But if you never look up and see the distance, all you’ll see is the ground, not the sky, not the sunset, not the sun. So I think it’s good to look up now and then and see what’s far away. Even falling down might be a worthwhile experience."
Zane Zhuang blinked, then stood up.
"Young Master, I have things to do. Remember to go to the study later—don’t be late."
Suddenly, there was a light crunch of footsteps. John Chou turned, and—smack—a snowball hit him in the face.
"Sis, you ambushed me!"
His sister weighed the snowball in her hand as John Chou laughed with delight. The two started a snowball fight, mother and son playing together in joy.
At noon, Henry Henderson came to the study. John Chou acted as if he understood nothing, while Victor Fan repeated lessons he’d given before. Most of the children had already grasped the material, but John Chou kept playing dumb, sitting there blankly.
"John, come here."
John Chou approached timidly.
"Grandpa will test you."
Henry Henderson coughed, his eyes kind and gentle as he looked at John Chou. But after a moment, anger flickered across his face.
Smack—a palm landed. John Chou stubbornly stared at Henry Henderson, his eyes showing a hint of defiance.
"Why don’t you know such a simple thing? Is your brain just for decoration?"
Facing Henry Henderson’s anger, Victor Fan rushed over to mediate, saying a few words that finally eased the atmosphere. After Henry left, it was time for private lessons.
"John, you only need to answer a few questions. Why won’t you answer?"
John Chou just smiled.
"Isn’t this better? If I answered, I’m afraid life would get much harder for me in the future."
Victor Fan looked at John Chou in confusion, but quickly understood. In the past, when John answered questions, the older children would sometimes bully him—changing the rules just to make things harder for him.
"Sigh, John, you’ll have to find a way. Otherwise, after your grandfather passes, life for you and your mother will be hard."
John Chou lowered his head in displeasure.
"Being human is truly difficult. Maybe being a ghost would be easier."