"Yeah."
"Very shallow for many ri out."
"If you say so."
"In such waters it is possible to walk for several ri without one's head being submerged in water."
"That's why the sub has to wait pretty far out while rafts bring in the gold."
"Do not speak to me of gold when a more precious commodity is under discussion," Chiun said, his voice tinged with bitterness.
"What's more precious than gold?"
"Fish. For without fish we cannot live."
"With gold you can buy all the fish you want," Remo countered.
"Not from a hungry man. A hungry man will spurn gold if he possesses but one fish. For one cannot eat gold, only hoard it. Or if necessary, spend it."
"Man cannot live by rice and duck alone," Remo said.
"In the beginning, Masters subsisted on rice and fish exclusively," Chiun went on.
"No duck?"
"Duck was unknown in those early days. Common Koreans do not eat duck."
Remo raised an astonished eyebrow. "I didn't know that."
"You know this now." Chiun walked on in a tight silence.
Up ahead a stooped Vietnamese man came hobbling along. Spotting Chiun, he hastily crossed the street. By that, Remo assumed the Master of Sinanju had been out terrorizing the city's Asian population again.
"In those days the soil had not been exhausted. Certain foods could be grown. And fish were plentiful in the shallow waters by the village. In the winter not as much fish as during the warm season, but for our tiny village there was a sufficiency of fish."
A cold wind brought to Remo's nostrils the heavy smell of nearby Wollaston Beach at low tide in winter. It smelled of dead clams and beached seaweed. The beach at Sinanju smelled like that on good days.
Chiun went on. "Now in those days, as now, the villagers were afflicted with the lassitude of indolence. They fished when their stomachs required them to fish. In the winter they did not fish at all because the waters were inhospitable and the fish, being intelligent, seldom ventured close to the rocks from which my ancestors threw their nets and hooked lines."
"Smart fish," grunted Remo, noticing a Chinese woman duck back into her house at their approach.
"All fish are smart."
"That's why they call it brain food," said Remo.
"That was what Wang the Greater said. Eating fish improves the brain. It is one reason why Masters of Sinanju use their brains fully."
"It's rich in omega-3 fatty acids, too."
"I do not know what white voodoo it is you speak," Chiun said darkly.
"That means it's lower in cholesterol."
"Cholesterol is good for some people."
"Not for us."
Chiun lifted a finger skyward. The light caught his nail protector of imperial jade. "It is good for us if our opponents wallow in it. For then the advantage is ours."
"Good point," said Remo, who was starting to relax.
They passed an apartment building where the words Go Home Gook were scrawled on the asphalt driveway. Remo recognized Chiun's slashing strokes-not that there was any doubt. The words were gouged in the asphalt as if by a very sharp knife.
"You been trying to stampede the local Asians?" Remo asked.
"If they are easily frightened, they should not try to dwell among their betters."
"Tell that to the mayor's Task Force on Racial Harmony."
"As I was saying," Chiun continued, "the fish who dwelled off Sinanju, the carp and the tuna and the corbina, understood that they were food. So they avoided the shore waters, forcing the fishermen to go into the far waters to seek them. In the warm months this was only a bother. But in the winter months it could kill. For it was not possible to stand in bitter ice water waiting for a cunning fish to succumb to a lapse in judgment."
"Fish are smart because they eat other fish, right?"
"Correct. Now Bamboo-hatted Kim was in his dotage when the hunger of the villagers began to vex him. For he had ventured out many times to Japan and Cathay to serve the emperors who held sway over those realms. Kim grew weary of the long journeys that brought the gold that paid for the rice the villages could not grow and the fish they could not catch.
"It occurred to Kim, not yet known as Bamboo-hatted Kim, that there might be a better way. In those days he wore a hat like a great rice bowl of bamboo that was tied to his head by a catgut string so it would not fall off. One day, seeking his own supper, he waded out into the frigid waters of the bay with his line and hook of fish bone-for the best way to catch a fish is with one of its own sharp bones, Remo."
"I'll try to remember that."
Chiun resumed. "Kim was forced to wade out three entire ri because many fish had sought warmer waters. But at last he came to a place where the carp and the corbina swam in promising numbers. There he dropped his hook and waited.
"When a fish larger than the usual snapped at his hook, Kim thought the Dragon King had smiled on him. You know of the Dragon King, who lives under the waters, Remo?"
"Yeah. He was the Korean Neptune."
"The Romans mangled the truth as usual," Chiun sniffed. "No sooner had the carp taken Kim's line than Kim jerked his wrists to snap the fish living out of the water, where he would break its spine and claim it for his dinner."
"But the line snapped, right?"
"How did you know this, Remo?"
"Wild guess."
Chiun touched his tendril of a beard. "The line snapped. And the carp splashed back into the water to escape, leaving Kim with a three-ri walk back to his home and another three-ri wade back to his favorite fishing spot with a new line and still another three-ri trudge back to cook his dinner."
"That's a lot of ri."