Chapter Eight: The Protection Fee Turmoil

When Rousseau came to pick up Little Fish in the evening, he was fully prepared for a storm, since the homeroom teacher had informed him that the parent who had raised concerns wanted to confront Rousseau face to face about the issue of Little Fish collecting protection money in class.

Yet when Rousseau met the middle-aged woman and her son, a hefty boy, the situation unexpectedly changed.

The boy insisted that Little Fish had not collected protection money; she had merely borrowed ten yuan from him, and they had already agreed she would repay him the next day. With borrowing and returning, there's no need to make a fuss.

“Is that true?” the homeroom teacher asked suspiciously.

Little Fish glanced at the hefty boy, who nodded frantically.

“Why would my child lend her money? Isn’t it because your kid threatened mine?” the middle-aged woman protested, still raising her voice.

But anyone could see the truth: the hefty boy stood nearly one meter seventy, while Little Fish barely reached one meter forty. The weaker party was obvious.

“No, no, no,” the boy desperately explained. “Little Fish only borrowed my homework to copy—wait, no, she helped me review my lessons, so I lent her the money as a tutoring fee, not really a loan…”

“Zhao Liangliang, I helped you review your lessons out of friendship between classmates. You lent me money because of that same friendship. Friendship among classmates is a pure relationship, free of any monetary exchange,” Little Fish said sternly.

“Yes, yes, pure friendship,” the boy nodded vigorously.

“Well… then return the money!” the middle-aged woman shouted at Rousseau.

Rousseau handed her the ten yuan.

That ended the discussion.

The woman dragged her son away, muttering loudly enough for both to hear, “Raised without a father or mother, the lot of them!”

Rousseau’s expression changed instantly.

Little Fish quickly grabbed Rousseau’s clenched fist.

His fist hesitated, then relaxed as he turned his hand to hold Little Fish’s.

…

Hand in hand, Rousseau and Little Fish walked along the main road.

Pengcheng, as a window city of the reform era, had entered the fast lane of prosperity by 2004. Luxury cars sped through the streets, skyscrapers soared along the sidewalks, yet none of it touched these siblings.

Little Fish kept her head down, staring at her own feet.

Rousseau looked down too.

He saw Little Fish’s worn white sneakers, carefully washed and wrapped in tissue in hopes they’d turn whiter, but the rubber and canvas edges remained yellowed and aged. She owned little else—her school uniform served for all seasons, no toys, no portable music player, no wall of pop star posters at home. The few pretty hair clips were her only daily adornments.

Yet what girl doesn’t love beauty? Little Fish was a lovely child, anyone who saw her would praise her as a budding beauty.

Even so, she had spent 482 yuan on new sports shoes for Rousseau, a price she’d found at the A.F. specialty store.

“Tomorrow, return this money to your classmates.”

Rousseau pulled several hundred-yuan bills from his pocket and stuffed them into Little Fish’s backpack.

Hmph! Little Fish kicked angrily at the roadside grass, then stole a glance at Rousseau’s face. Seeing nothing unusual, she grumbled, “Zhao Liangliang is a traitor, he tattled! I told him it was a loan, a loan—I’d pay it back. Traitor!”

“A loan must be repaid,” Rousseau said, ruffling her hair.

“And Zhao Liangliang’s mother—hmph!” Little Fish was still fuming. To insult them as ‘raised without father or mother’—just wait!

“No more bullying classmates,” Rousseau told her.

“I didn’t…” Little Fish clung to his hand, acting coy. Then she suddenly sensed something amiss. “Brother, where did you get the money?”

“I borrowed it from the coach,” Rousseau replied. “By the way, Little Fish, I probably can’t join the professional team.”

“Huh? Why?” Little Fish was startled.

“Well…” Rousseau knew he’d have to explain, or Little Fish wouldn’t let it go. “Once you join, you have to live on campus for centralized training.”

Ah… Little Fish was stunned, immediately realizing: if Rousseau stayed on campus, what would happen to her?

“I asked to live off campus, but the coach refused to make an exception. I don’t have any achievements yet, it’s complicated, so I decided not to go,” Rousseau said. He’d tried negotiating for a long time, but as a professional athlete, closed training was standard. This wasn’t like a regular job where you could live at home.

“That’s fine!” Little Fish suddenly said. “I can take care of myself, I can cook, go to school alone, as long as you come back during holidays to visit me. I could even cook a whole meal to welcome you!”

“Don’t be ridiculous—you can’t even reach the stove,” Rousseau shook his head. It was impossible; Little Fish was only twelve, entirely incapable of managing on her own.

“So, I’m giving up this opportunity…” Rousseau said.

“No!” Little Fish declared instantly. “Brother, absolutely not!”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” Rousseau placed his hand on her head, habitually ruffling her hair. “I can train on my own. When you turn eighteen—no, sixteen, that’ll do. Just four more years. Then I’ll join the professional team, and in 2008, right in time for the Olympics, I’ll win a gold medal!”

Little Fish was sulky, clearly unable to accept this.

They kept walking.

Summer sunlight filtered through the canopy of lychee trees, casting dappled splashes of brightness across their faces and bodies.

Suddenly, Little Fish asked quietly, “Brother, am I your burden?”

“Of course not. You’re my treasure,” Rousseau hoisted her onto his shoulders.

Indeed, on that stormy night ten years ago, if it hadn’t been for meeting Little Fish, Rousseau would never have known what reason a child abandoned by his family had to keep living.

…

They returned home.

The landlord was there.

“Old man, weren’t you supposed to collect rent from the other house today?” Rousseau asked as he opened the door.

“I came to see if you made it into the provincial team,” the old man said. “You both look so dejected—failed, didn’t you? Time to pay the rent, right?”

“Who says so? My brother succeeded! He ran the hundred meters in just a bit over eleven seconds!” Little Fish announced. “The coach said he’s a rare talent—could help China win gold at the Asian Games and Olympics.”

“Really?” The old man was surprised.

“It’s true,” Rousseau nodded. “But I’m not planning to go.”

“Why not?” The old man was even more surprised.

“That’s not your concern,” Rousseau refused to elaborate.

“It’s because of me…” Little Fish sighed, sounding like a little adult. “No one’s here to take care of me. If my brother joins the provincial team, he has to train and can’t come home…”

“In that case… I’ll look after Little Fish,” the old man finally said to Rousseau after thinking it over.