Chapter 141: Fishing Final (Part 1)

What's wrong with me? I want my appearance to be decent, my looks to be exotic, my IQ to be... hemorrhoids? My talk is just spitting phlegm—am I not better than him?

Brother, your shameless vigor really is stronger than his. Xiao Hu pursed his lips and gave a thumbs up.

Get lost, quickly say I'm more handsome than him, or else when I go back I'll password-protect the computer.

Upon hearing the password, Xiao Hu panicked, quickly put on a smile: "Brother, you're more handsome than him; he's ugly as a freak—there's no way you're not handsome, you're the best-looking man in the world."

No sooner had the words fallen than a teasing, frivolous voice came from behind: "Yo, who's the best-looking man in the world?"

Ye Cheng turned around, only to see Zhao Zhiming walking over.

This is a bit awkward.

"Well, Xiao Hu, he insists I'm the most handsome; I've told him several times to be modest, but he won't listen, and I can't do anything about it."

"Brother Zhao, don't mind him; I still need to thank you for last time, otherwise I'd be in jail."

Zhao Zhiming listened to Ye Cheng's nonsense, then looked at Xiao Hu's face as if he wanted to eat shit, and of course didn't believe it.

"Alright, whether you're the most handsome is debatable, but later you have to go up and receive an award."

"Receive an award? What award? Even 30th place gets a prize?"

Ye Cheng asked curiously, as he had only heard that the top three receive awards; when did 30th place also get one?

"Oh, it's not about fishing—you didn't catch a wanted criminal, did you?" Zhao Zhiming reminded him.

"Brother Long? What does that have to do with the Fishing Association?"

"Of course there is—you're now our member, and our members caught a wanted criminal; understand, our association gains face." Zhao Zhiming gestured excitedly, as if he himself had caught the criminal.

"Er..."

Ye Cheng looked speechless; this could still be connected somehow.

Before he could speak, Zhao Zhiming extended five fingers in front of him, gesturing: "5000, a reward of 5000 bucks—how about that?"

Ye Cheng had been indifferent, but upon hearing there was money, his eyes lit up instantly—money, don't be a bastard.

"Brother Zhao, I'm the association's member in life and its ghost in death—you can rest assured." Ye Cheng said firmly.

"Tch!" Xiao Hu gave a side-eye.

Indeed, when everyone had gathered, President Jiang Weiyang stood up, tapped the microphone twice, and began to read.

It was a long passage; I don't know who wrote it for him, but the gist was that fishing is a beneficial exercise for body and mind, not only strengthening the body but also cultivating one's temperament.

All along, the fishing old-timers, as a special force, have been devoted to world peace, helping Uncle Hat do many things.

This time, Ye Cheng caught a criminal gang, one of whom was a wanted fugitive, so the association decided to reward him with 5000 yuan.

Applause thundered; when Ye Cheng went up to receive the award, he felt somewhat surreal.

Holy crap, I joined the Fishing Association, right? It's not some cult, is it?

Fortunately, the Fishing Association is fairly pragmatic; they gave Ye Cheng a thick red envelope, cashing out the 5000 yuan directly.

Ye Cheng stood on stage, deliberately glanced down at Cui Shuran, who basically ignored him completely.

It seemed like 5000 yuan was just a drizzle.

On the contrary, Old Lin and Old Chen from last time were especially excited, standing below waving their fishing rods nonstop.

After this little interlude, the fishing competition officially began.

The association originally planned to go sea fishing, but the recent sea weather wasn't great, and with so many people heading out to sea it'd be a bit risky, so they temporarily moved to this peninsula, trying to replicate sea fishing as much as possible.

But sea fishing is sea fishing—that's deep sea, whereas this is the shore, so the competition is, to some extent, advantageous for Ye Cheng.

Because Ye Cheng has never gone sea fishing at all.

Positions were still as before—draw lots, with 30 spots around half the island.

Ye Cheng drew number 27, a relatively peripheral spot, while Cui Shuran got number 14, nearer the center.

The familiar Old Chen and Old Lin were also on the other side, all strangers to him.

However, this time each spot was far apart, so there wasn't much to chat about.

At spot 27, Ye Cheng had Xiao Hu help carry his stuff; going up the mountain path, it's a slightly indented small bay—you can fish inside the bay or cast out to sea.

Ye Cheng decisively chose the open sea.

Now that I can cast the rod, fishing right at my feet would be boring.

According to the rules, Xiao Hu can't help unless there's an emergency, so he naturally leaned against the slope, cigarette in mouth, leisurely like a cowherd boy.

Ye Cheng nervously readied his gear, then turned to Xiao Hu and said, "Later when I catch something, help me pack it—remember to be quick."

"Brother, you're the one who can show off." Xiao Hu lazily rolled over, still saying be quick—why rush? As if you could catch a lot anyway.

This competition still lasts six hours, longer than a marathon, so fishing is the world's most grueling sport.

At 9 o'clock, the competition started on schedule; after every few groups there was a referee, supposedly to prevent violations, but mainly just to time things—fishing can't be cheated anyway.

With the referee's whistle, the competition officially began, and the thirty contestants all surged forward to cast their rods.

Ye Cheng took a deep breath; it was time to show his true skill.

Raise the rod, cast!

Handsome!

The fishing line landed accurately ten meters out on the sea.

"Damn, bro, awesome—'after three days apart, look at him with new eyes'!" Xiao Hu teased from behind.

"Get lost! A dog's mouth can't spit out ivory."

Ye Cheng finished casting, sat down quietly, calming himself—he had to stay calm.

Before his seat even warmed up, he saw the float plunge sharply downward.

No, is it that eager?

If they all bite like that, my first three days of practice weren't for nothing.

Despite the complaints, he didn't hold back—Ye Cheng lifted the rod and hooked the fish, feeling a satisfying pull.

The fishing rod in his hand bent down quickly, the line pulled taut.

"Damn, bro, already got a bite?" Xiao Hu had barely taken two puffs of his cigarette.

Ye Cheng ignored him; after practicing three days, he ought to show some result. He felt the force coming through the line—not too big, not too small—guessing it was a 2-4 catty fish.

Such a fish also requires a bit of strength to deal with.

Ye Cheng skillfully began to let out and reel in, slowly playing the fish.

While Ye Cheng was hooking a fish, it was visible to the naked eye that the people beside him also started getting bites; Ye Cheng's heart tightened—this final is different, it feels much stronger than the preliminaries.

The line in his hand slackened a bit, the fish ran out of strength; Ye Cheng quickly pulled back, and finally through the seawater he saw what this little treasure looked like.