Chapter 80: Fine Scales Gleaming, Shaped Like Blades

A journalist revealed that the concept of new consumption is becoming increasingly important, and society has now entered an era of mass consumerism. There is a growing focus on shifts in consumer attitudes and behaviors. In the past, people were concerned with how to obtain things; now, the pursuit is for how to have more taste.

Robin Li volunteered a story, saying that while the industry leaders were still discussing autonomous driving, people suggested to him that Baidu should make an advertisement showing someone drinking in a car—since with autonomous vehicles, drunk driving would become a thing of the past.

Johnson was most interested in one person: Neil Shen of Sequoia Capital. As a top venture capitalist, even Pony Ma had nothing but praise for his investment acumen. In recent years he had captured many unicorns in China’s internet sector, investing in companies like JD, Didi, Qihoo 360, Meituan Dianping, and Toutiao.

An endless stream of profits,
Raking in money hand over fist.

Compared to others’ high profile, Alibaba’s founder had always remained low-key. For four consecutive years, he attended the Wuzhen Summit: arriving by boat in 2014; keeping his head down and saying nothing to reporters in 2015; pulling his cap low and hurrying by in 2016.

Last year, he disappeared swiftly after the first day of meetings, attending no social events, bringing his own midnight snack—truly content to be alone.

The next day, he checked out, aiming for Qiandao Lake, chartered a small yacht for 20,000 yuan a day, and set out to cruise the lake.

As the boat slowly reached the center, the water revealed an extraordinary shade of green, dotted with islands of various shapes and sizes, as if entering a beautiful ink painting.

“That is Plum Peak Island—the highest in elevation. Climb it, and you can overlook the entire Thousand Island Lake,” Qianqian said, pointing.

Following her finger, they gazed into the distance. As the clouds and mist cleared, the magical hue of the water gradually appeared—not quite green, not quite blue, but somewhere in between. Just as Bai Juyi wrote in his poem “The Beauty of the South,” “In spring, the river water is as green as blue.”

The lake stretched wide, a vast expanse of jade, with islands scattered like chess pieces. The large ones rose like mountains, the small ones floated like boats, each lush and dripping with emerald, resembling pieces of jade half-submerged in the water.

The hillsides and islands were covered in dense vegetation—no bare earth, no exposed stone—just verdant mountains and emerald islets teeming with life. The islands were numerous, the channels crisscrossing. Each yacht sailed its own route, undisturbed by others, as if a single boat traversed ten thousand acres, providing endless pleasure for the eye and soul.

“It’s said that many mountain springs converge here, and Nongfu Spring has always claimed to draw its water from seventy meters deep in Qiandao Lake.”

“Look over there—that’s the famous Monkey Island, originally called Yunmeng Archipelago, made up of more than a dozen verdant islands. There’s a monkey king up there, full of wild charm…”

“To the west is Peacock Island, thick with forest and fresh air, where you can watch peacocks spread their tails, see flocks in flight, observe them foraging, listen to their calls, and even take photos with them…”

“There’s also Deer Island, with gentle slopes and luxuriant woods, perfect for raising and sheltering sika deer. Soon we can stroll among the trees, and the lively, adorable deer will come to greet us. Buy a bundle of tender leaves to feed them, and the cute little deer will nuzzle for food—so charming you can hardly stand it!”

Surrounded by the lake’s scenery, one felt utterly refreshed. At last, they arrived at Plum Peak Island, where the captain strongly recommended a private kitchen run by a chef surnamed Liu, known for his skill—a must-try.

They moved to the largest private dining room, sat down, and found the menu was simple: only three set meals. They ordered the most expensive, priced at 8,888 yuan, curious to see what made it special.

Soon, the server brought out a pot of soup and placed it on the table. As the lid was slowly lifted, a fragrant aroma wafted out, rich with freshness.

“What is this?” In the milky-white broth floated finger-length, snow-white fish that looked plain and unremarkable—was this really the appetizer?

Johnson straightened up, a thought flashing through his mind. With curiosity, he asked, “Could this be a local specialty—counter-current fish?”

Just then, Chef Liu entered, delighted to find someone so knowledgeable. He explained enthusiastically, “The clear waters of Qiandao Lake are home to this small fish. It may look like any ordinary stream fish, but there's more than meets the eye. Just have a taste and you'll see!”

The soup was ladled out for everyone. Johnson raised his bowl; the milky broth exuded a sweet fragrance, the result of superior pork bones simmered to perfection. One taste left a lingering richness on the palate.

He picked up a counter-current fish, popped it in his mouth, and bit down. To his surprise, it was wonderfully chewy. Suddenly, it was as if something burst forth, a marvelous flavor flooding his mouth.

“So many fish eggs!” He couldn’t help closing his eyes, and in his mind’s eye, a vivid scene appeared: schools of counter-current fish swimming upstream, their tiny bodies leaping tirelessly against the torrent, expending all their strength to struggle upstream.

Sunlight glinted on their snowy scales, casting dazzling sparks in the crystal-clear water.

With a mighty leap, they finally cleared the rapids and reached the gentle riverbed. Exhausted, with a final flick, they scattered golden eggs into the water, sowing the seeds of life.

The fish roe burst forth, specks of gold swirling into a rolling current, instantly engulfing the fish themselves.

“Excellent!” Johnson couldn’t help exclaiming, “The flesh is firm and sweet. Who would have thought such tiny bodies could hold so many eggs—truly remarkable.”

“The roe is densely packed, delicate and sweet, while the fish, stewed in rich broth, is exceptionally delicious. The bones melt in your mouth—a true delicacy.”

Seeing Johnson’s satisfaction, Chef Liu smiled. “These fish love to swim upstream; the swifter the current, the happier they are. The locals have a verse in their praise: ‘When the Plum and Yellow Rivers swell, counter-current fish grow plump, finer than the spring perch—who can tell?’”

“Every year they return upstream to spawn, following only the Tiao River route, and only emerge during the few days of the plum rain, making them exceedingly rare.”

Johnson raised his bowl, sipped the soup, and said contentedly, “Many fish swim upstream to spawn, but these are so small they can’t expel their eggs without help.”

“They must rely on the force of the current to flush the eggs out, which is why the roe is so delicious.”

“And the flesh, after such a long upstream journey, is low in fat, firm and delicate, quite unlike other fish—its flavor unique, its texture superb.”

Chef Liu smiled, clearly delighted to have such discerning diners. With a gentle wave, he presented another dish. “Try this—counter-current fish can be stewed or fried, and I think fried is even better.”

Before them now was a plate of golden fried fish. Johnson picked up a piece, examining it carefully. From fin to tail, a ridge ran down its belly.

Fried in pine-scented oil, the flesh was dry without being scorched, exuding a clean fragrance that whetted the appetite and made the mouth water. The golden roe filled most of the belly; a bite revealed crisp, savory flavors that lingered on the lips.

Even Xia Long couldn’t resist eating four or five pieces. Putting down his chopsticks, he reminisced, “I never imagined such small fish could be so captivating. It reminds me of eating knife fish on a Yangtze fishing boat—caught and cooked fresh in water, no seasoning needed.”

“It cooks in an instant. You can dip it in rice vinegar, or a little garlic and soy sauce. Tear the meat from the backbone by hand, put it in your mouth, and the taste—unforgettable for a lifetime!”

Chef Liu set down his knife with a smile. “Luck favors the timely—our next dish is knife fish!”

Johnson was surprised to find real knife fish on the menu, having heard many stories. Before the Qingming Festival, knife fish gather at the mouth of the Yangtze, where fresh and salt water meet, feeding richly and developing tender flesh. As stocks have dwindled, their value has soared.

Online, the price of Yangtze knife fish is staggering—anywhere from 6,000 to 10,000 yuan. At a charity auction in 2012, a 325-gram Yangtze knife fish fetched a sky-high 60,000 yuan.

“At the head of the Yangtze, snowy waves surge, slender scales flashing, shaped like knives!”

The chef brought out a freshly air-shipped knife fish, grasped its head lightly with two fingers, pinched its neck with chopsticks, gave a firm pull and a shake, and the entire backbone slipped out as if by magic, leaving the snow-white flesh intact on the plate.

Such skill!

Xia Long’s eyes lit up. Applauding, he said, “When I had knife fish on a boat, the fishermen didn’t gut it with a knife either—just pushed a chopstick through the gills, stirred it around, and pulled out the guts, leaving the fish’s shape untouched.”

The chef added, “That’s the hallmark of knife fish—no need to scale them, just like counter-current fish. Steam or fry, add some ginger, yellow wine, and a bit of salt for flavor. Steam over water for ten minutes—enough!”

He quickly finished prepping the fish and placed it in a clear steamer. As they watched the steam rise, the knife fish’s scales gradually turned into tiny beads of oil, the flesh becoming even more translucent.

Johnson hadn’t expected to witness such preparation in person, and breathed in the changing aromas with wide-eyed curiosity. “Steaming perfectly expresses the knife fish’s freshness, and removes its only earthy note. The silver flesh lies in the clear broth, subtle fragrance rising, flavor tugging at the heart—words fail to describe it!”

“Shoulders shudder like thunder, gills red fresh from the water, ginger and pepper add their scent before it’s even cooked. The puffer is shamed by its poison, and the perch of the Yangtze has lost its savor.”