When Captain Chen Shanhai, a deep-sea sailor, breathed his last in a hospital bed and opened his eyes again, he was back in the twelfth lunar month of 1975. His father had gone out to sea and never returned, his body still lost in the water. His second uncle showed up with the accountant, bearing a document to claim the boat and guns, and even to send his eight-year-old sister to a neighboring village in exchange for two sacks of dried sweet potatoes. His mother was coughing so badly she could barely stand, and only half a jar of sweet potato flour remained by the stove. A debt of six hundred yuan was crushing the family.
Chen Shanhai wasn't worried. In his previous life, he'd sailed across all three oceans, and the tides were etched into his bones. He'd memorized the hunting trails his grandfather left behind by the time he was eight. The mountains of Kunyu teemed with roe deer, wild boars, and lynxes; Laolong Bay was rich in sea cucumbers, abalone, and schools of Spanish mackerel. While others fretted over their next meal, he worried about where to pile all the mountain and sea bounty.
No city life, no business dealings. He'd hunt in the mountains and forage along the shore, turning his family's life into the envy of the whole village. In this year of famine, the poor bowed their heads, while the rich ate meat.
