Chapter 76: Apology

After more than five minutes of struggling with Jiang Zheng, the fish finally revealed its true form.

Jiang’s father managed to pull it up with difficulty, and even with a landing net, the fish thrashed so violently that he nearly lost his grip and let it fall back into the water.

It was a giant catfish.

This type of freshwater fish is known for its ferocity and tremendous strength. Its most distinctive features are its wide mouth and the two whiskers at the corners of its lips.

People who raise fish generally avoid keeping catfish: they’re aggressive, have huge appetites, eat indiscriminately, and live a long time. If you raise even one or two of them in a pond, it’s hard for the other fish to thrive.

Judging by its size, this catfish weighed over ten pounds.

Landing this fish meant the contest was already decided. There was no need to tally the smaller fish Jiang Zheng had caught earlier—this single catch outweighed all the fish the other side had caught put together.

The three men standing to the side stared in disbelief. None of them could have imagined that, in the final minutes, the other side would land such a monster.

“What do we do now? They just pulled up a fish that big.”

“Time’s not up yet. The outcome’s not certain. We could still be the dark horse. Let’s see what Feng can do.”

“The outcome’s set. We’re just cattle now,” the one called Feng said.

“Feng, you really won’t try one last time?”

“Don’t give up, Feng, there are still three minutes left.”

Feng’s face darkened. “If you think three minutes is enough, why don’t you try? What’s the point?”

The other two knew too that it was unrealistic to hope for a five- or six-pound fish in three minutes. Even if a fish bit instantly, it would take longer than that just to reel it in.

They understood, but it was still hard to accept.

Fishing was their pride and joy; around here, the three of them were considered top anglers. Yet in the thing they were best at, the thing they most prided themselves on, they’d been defeated.

Such a huge fish drew a crowd. Some took out their phones to snap pictures, some circled around the catch.

Jiang’s father hurriedly took out his phone and, cradling the fish, posed for a photo.

In the wild, a fish of over ten pounds is a rare prize, well worth boasting about if you manage to catch one.

After a time, the spectators drifted away.

Jiang Zheng noticed the three men still standing awkwardly nearby.

“I’m surprised you didn’t run,” Jiang Zheng said.

The three didn’t reply, standing there like schoolboys caught misbehaving.

Jiang Zheng actually looked at them with a bit more respect; the fact that they hadn’t run off at this moment showed a bit of character.

“Apologize,” Jiang Zheng said.

Respect or not, what needed to be done, needed to be done.

The three hesitated, but still shuffled over to Jiang’s father, together saying, “Uncle, we’re sorry!”

Jiang’s father said nothing, only looked to Jiang Zheng.

“In the future, watch your mouths. Just because you’ve got some skill doesn’t mean you can look down on everyone else. There are plenty of skilled people in this world,” Jiang Zheng lectured.

The three listened with heads bowed, offering no rebuttal.

They didn’t have the guts to start a fight, and they’d just been out-fished, so what could they say?

“All right, I won’t make things harder for you,” Jiang Zheng waved them off.

The three looked as if they’d been granted amnesty and hurried away.

“Dad, do you want to keep fishing, or head back?” Jiang Zheng asked.

Only then did he remember he’d come to get fish from his father for grilling, not realizing how much time had slipped by.

Now, even if they brought the fish over, there likely wouldn’t be time to grill it.

“I’m done fishing, let’s go,” his father said, no longer in the mood.

If not for Jiang Zheng’s competition, he’d have left long ago.

“Let’s head back, then,” Jiang Zheng said.

They released the smallest fish back into the river. Fish that small weren’t worth eating; better to let them grow.

The rest, they took with them.

Whoever came to claim this spot next was not their concern.

Returning to camp, they were met by Jiang’s mother, her face cold.

“So you finally remembered to come back?” she said.

“Mom, something came up,” Jiang Zheng replied with a smile.

Looking at him, she found it hard to stay angry, but she still snapped, “Where are the fish?”

Jiang’s father hurried over with the bucket. “Here they are, right here.”

Jiang’s mother peeked in: plenty of fish, and a catfish over ten pounds. She couldn’t help exclaiming, “You caught this much today?”

“Our son caught them all,” Jiang’s father said proudly.

Hearing this, Jiang’s mother looked at Jiang Zheng in surprise. “Hmm, better than your dad.”

Jiang’s father could only sigh—his son really was better than him.

His mother’s irritation faded quickly.

With Jiang’s father done fishing, the family could finally enjoy their camping trip: grilling skewers, eating snacks and drinks they’d brought.

The grilled fish never happened—the disposable grill burned too low for that.

Time passed, and by five in the afternoon, the family began to pack up and prepare for the trip home.

Before they left, Jiang Zheng made sure to take all their garbage with them. When camping, you have to pack out your trash; if every camper left a little behind, this place would soon be a dump, not a haven.

They drove back to the county town, stopped home first, and then Jiang Zheng returned the car.

When he got back, he found his mother cleaning the big catfish.

With such a large fish, the three of them couldn’t finish it all, so his mother cut off a portion to freeze. The rest of the crucian carp his father fried until crisp—crunchy, fragrant, and delicious.

Catfish has few bones and tender flesh—an excellent ingredient.

After his mother’s cooking, the aroma filled the house.

Meanwhile, Jiang Zheng hurried to his room to write, determined to finish today’s thirty thousand characters for his updates.

At dinner, the table was covered in fish, and nothing else.

With so much fish caught, none could go to waste. Wild fish like these taste far better than farmed ones.

That massive catfish could have fetched a good price, but they’d chosen to eat it themselves. Even when others offered a high price, they refused to sell.

After dinner, Jiang Zheng volunteered to wash the dishes, then watched TV and chatted with his parents for a while before returning to his room.

He realized that, this summer break, he really hadn’t spent much time with his parents.

Once back in his room, Jiang Zheng took a moment to compose himself, then dove back into his writing.

It wasn’t until after eleven at night that he finally stopped, looking with satisfaction at the twenty thousand characters he’d just written.

With one or two thousand words in reserve each day, in half a month he could do another bonus update.

With no debts hanging over him, Jiang Zheng no longer felt pressured to force out so many updates each day.

This took a great weight off his shoulders.