Chapter 181 - 78: Earthquake
The mind is restless, and fishing doesn't relax it.
Kneeling by the water, casting the line into the lake, mindlessly waiting for more than ten minutes, the float never moved. Only then did Chen Zhou suddenly realize that he hadn't put bait on the hook.
He reeled it in to put on some bait, sat for a few more minutes, repeatedly looking back at the mountain, without any intention of watching the fishing rod.
Knowing that he certainly wouldn't catch any fish if he continued like this, with no gains, he packed up his fishing gear, ready to visit the "family of three" on the sunny slope.
Last time he added salt for the goats, he noticed signs of estrus in the female goat.
The big male goat's injury was no longer a problem, and he figured it had already paired up with the female goat.
In a little over five months, this family of three would become four or even five, marking the first milestone of his animal husbandry.
...
Putting the fishing gear back in the cabin, he brought Lai Fu to the grassy field where the goats were tied.
Goats are evidently much smarter than sheep.
The big male goat was not far from the female goat, affectionately close, while the little lamb nearby seemed like an outsider.
Upon seeing Chen Zhou approach from afar, the big male goat lowered its head, retreating timidly, its eyelids drooping, not daring to look directly.
A goat never forgets the pain it suffered even if it was beaten a long time ago.
It's different with sheep.
In his northern hometown, Chen Zhou had seen a few fat-tailed sheep without tails.
He learned from asking the elderly that those sheep had their tails eaten by pigs.
Back then, the family's sheep pen wasn't built yet. It was winter, and the family put the sheep in the vegetable garden. The pig pen was also in the garden, right next to the sheep.
That year, the pen housed a breeding pig, which was let out daily for walks to exercise.
The pig was greedy. Seeing the sheep lying on the ground, it went to bite the sheep's tail - the fat-tailed sheep, as the name suggests, had large tails storing a lot of fat.
If there were goats in the garden, they wouldn't let an 800-pound breeding pig get close; they'd run away early.
Even if they failed to escape, they'd bleat loudly when bitten and run off.
Only sheep are such oblivious animals; they are not bright. When bitten, they lay on the ground silently. As a result, several sheep's tails were gnawed off by pigs, and without timely treatment, their lives might have been in danger.
Over time interacting with sheep, Chen Zhou realized that the obstinate nature of sheep was not unique.
The roaming sheep on the mountain wouldn't run into the woods when caught in a downpour, standing numbly in the rain. Sheep succumbing to illness or hypothermia after getting soaked are seen everywhere.
Through domestication, sheep seemed to have lost the alertness of wild herds long ago, their intelligence declining to a contemptible level.
If the island's herds were sheep rather than goats, Chen Zhou wouldn't have to struggle so much to catch them.
Of course, sheep farming wouldn't be as worry-free either; during the rainy season, unattended sheep herds would definitely suffer losses, unlike goats that could migrate on their own.
He was very satisfied with the performance of the male goat.
As he got closer, Chen Zhou patted its neck. Seeing its head injury had healed, he untied the rope and led it to another patch of grass further away from the peak.
The grass here was somewhat sparse, not particularly liked by sheep, as the leaves had grown too coarse and dry, not quite suiting the goats' taste.
But the location was further from the rocky cliff, reducing the risk of being hit by falling rocks, which made Chen Zhou choose this spot.
The big male goat wasn't fully familiar yet; its freedom couldn't be completely unrestricted for now. This method was merely a temporary measure.
Though a bit troublesome, it was safer.
...
After relocating the goat to a safer position, by the time Chen Zhou returned to the cabin, the sun was already setting.
Without the mood to cook, Chen Zhou sometimes glanced at the puddles in the meadow or looked at the sky, trying to discern anomalies before an earthquake.
The small town where he grew up was located in the deep mainland, slightly touching the edges of seismic zones.
From childhood to adulthood, he only experienced one small earthquake, which occurred when he was four or five, so his memories of earthquakes were not vivid.
Revisiting the past, he vaguely remembers being on the kang (a traditional heated platform) at his grandmother's house with his sister, mother, aunt, and grandpa when suddenly the whole world began to shake slightly, akin to being dizzy after spinning in place for too long.
Adults inside hurriedly picked up the children and ran outside.
Grandmother's house was a small bungalow, within seconds he was carried into the courtyard, and he cannot recall what happened afterward.
He only remembers that the night after the earthquake, nobody in the village dared to sleep indoors, and they all camped outside in the open.
It was summer then, and a light rain began to fall.
Grandpa's house had a diesel three-wheeler; the family laid wooden boards and plastic sheets over the truck bed to create a temporary shelter, and everyone squeezed inside.
The adults' panic didn't affect the children; Chen Zhou only found the situation novel and lively, feeling like everyone was playing house with him.
The truck bed was lined with bedding, feeling very firm underfoot.
There was no light, only the weak glow of a candle.
The rain outside wasn't heavy, but it fell on the yellow soil, soaking the donkey manure left by the donkey cart, the stench mixed with an earthy smell invading the truck bed.
He and his sister built walls with pillows, playing until late in the narrow truck bed before falling asleep - a night engraved vividly in his memory.
Looking back later, Chen Zhou thought the small earthquake might have only been magnitude one or two.
Because afterward, there was no news of people dying or houses collapsing due to the earthquake in the village, many children of his age even lost memory of the event.
After starting school, the only earthquake he couldn't forget was the massive disaster in 2008 that shocked the world.
On the old big-head television, the evening news was filled with scenes of ruins, seemingly like the apocalypse.
On the school playground, teachers led the children of the class in line, clutching five or ten yuan bills each, placing them into the donation box to the tune of "Grateful Heart" played over the speakers, leaving a profound impression.
It was also through this terrifying 8.0-magnitude earthquake that Chen Zhou understood the horror of natural disasters.
In the face of nature's power, humanity is like grass.
As a child, with family watching over and in a state of ignorance, he didn't know what fear was.
Now, about to face a natural disaster alone, Chen Zhou felt like the animals frantically fleeing before an earthquake, filled with a nameless dread.
This fear even spawned all sorts of irrational thoughts, causing him to lose his composure.
He reminded himself multiple times to stay calm and returned to the cabin to start a fire and cook.
By the firelight, he reread Robinson Crusoe three times, using the original descriptions to reassure himself—
This earthquake might only be around magnitude three, and as long as he didn't put himself in dangerous situations, it wouldn't threaten his life.
Thus, through repeated self-appeasement, Chen Zhou pretended to calmly finish his meal and took care of the two cats, one mouse, and one dog at home.
That night, the stars were brilliant, and everything was silent—an excellent night for resting peacefully.
Yet he lay staring at the ceiling, not knowing how long he suffered insomnia before finally dozing off.