Chapter 4: Wet Jacket

The next Saturday, a truck with PAN'S FRESH on the door came up the lane with its horn going.

Lu Qing was on the dam bank with a bucket of feed.

He stood there, which was against his own rule two.

Meng Yuhe was already in the chair on the east bank, hidden from the truck by the reeds.

The rival fish seller got down from the cab.

He was forty-one, wide in the neck, with a gold chain and an unlit cigarette behind his ear.

"Little Lu," he said. "How's business?"

"Quiet, brother," said Lu Qing.

"I heard. I heard you had a visitor with a fancy jacket."

The fish seller walked along the dam and kicked a clod into the water.

"I've got an offer from a friend," said the fish seller. "A resort kitchen is opening in spring."

"Sell your fish to them, at half the market price, and they won't ask about your paperwork."

"My paperwork is fine."

"Is it?" the fish seller said. "Funny. I heard it wasn't."

"Who did you hear that from?" asked Lu Qing.

"Everybody." The fish seller leaned in and smiled with his gold tooth.

"It's a nice pond. It would be a pity if the fish started to taste of something."

He put one thick finger against Lu Qing's chest and pushed.

It was not a hard push.

Lu Qing took one step back, onto the dam's wet edge, and the clay slid.

He went in on his back with his arms out.

The pond was cold enough to stop his breath.

His boots filled at once.

He went down feet first into the green dark by the weir, where the water was deeper than his head.

He kicked and the left boot would not come.

A cramp took his calf.

He opened his mouth to shout, and the pond came in.

Then something hit the water beside him, hard, and an arm closed round his chest.

He was hauled up in one long steady pull, and the surface broke in his face.

"Breathe," said a voice at his ear.

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