Chapter 89: and translation of chapter title

In less than half an hour, Ye Cheng caught another four or five sea bream.

From a distance came two chattering voices—Xiao Hu and Uncle Chen Jinshui returning together.

"Xiao Hu, in a moment I'll show you Uncle Chen Jinshui's skill—this fishing rod of mine has been through countless battles, I've hauled up countless catches with it, it's absolutely a treasure."

"Uncle, you're just bragging—I heard you used to go to junior high, studied physics and know a bit of history; when did you become a fishing expert?"

"You don't get it—learning knowledge and fishing aren't mutually exclusive; in a moment I'll let this kid Ye Cheng see what a proper cast is."

Ye Cheng swung his headlamp around, the bright beam hitting both of their faces, and he shouted, "Uncle, let me see what a cast is."

Chen Jinshui waved his hand proudly, making himself feel like a star.

"Well, wait a minute, let Uncle get the line ready." Chen Jinshui lowered his head, took out the fishing rod, and began assembling it.

On the other side, Xiao Hu filled the water tank, brought it up, glanced at it, and exclaimed, "Brother, another catch? And so many?"

Hearing there was another catch, Uncle Chen Jinshui poked his head over to look, his mouth twitching hard.

"Ah!", a pained cry rang out—the fishhook had stabbed straight into his flesh.

"Uncle, what are you doing, a blood sacrifice?" Ye Cheng teased.

Chen Jinshui gave Ye Cheng a big eye-roll, stuck his finger in his mouth to suck on it, and mumbled,

"Listen, A Cheng, that kind of luck won't last; you must solidify the basics and hone your technique to keep getting bites, understand?"

Xiao Hu, squatting while sorting the fish, turned his head, stuck out his butt toward Uncle Chen Jinshui, and said, "Uncle, your technique is so good—why haven't I seen you catch any big fish? You're just picking up spicy snails here."

Uncle Chen Jinshui's face darkened, he turned and glared at Xiao Hu, "This kid, you need patience, you must put in long-term effort—success doesn't come that easily."

"Alright, Uncle, go ahead and show us a demonstration." Ye Cheng held his fishing rod, not yet lowering it, waiting to watch Uncle Chen Jinshui perform.

After tidying up, Uncle Chen Jinshui finally stood up, then somehow produced a baseball cap, wearing it backwards on his head, making him look rather the part.

"Come on, Uncle will demonstrate a cast for you—point and shoot; see that little reef over there? I'll drop the line there."

Ye Cheng looked; the little reef Uncle Chen Jinshui mentioned was seven or eight meters away—there's no way he could cast that far.

Uncle Chen Jinshui adjusted the line length a bit, leaving about 1.5 meters of the tip exposed, then raised the rod overhead with the tip pointing backward.

Seeing that stance, Ye Cheng's eyes lit up—'Damn, that feels so cool,' regardless of whether it catches fish, he had to learn it.

Looking stylish is the ultimate truth.

Having set his stance, Uncle Chen Jinshui turned up the corners of his mouth, matching his backwards baseball cap, flashing a smile he thought was charming, then effortlessly flicked the rod forward.

Ye Cheng saw the bobber fly into the air, arcing a long distance, landing exactly where that little reef had been.

"Awesome! Impressive!" Ye Cheng couldn't help clapping—it was indeed cool and accurate.

Uncle Chen Jinshui raised his eyebrows proudly, "This is something I've practiced for years—I've baited the hook with grouper bait; in a moment you'll see, it'll definitely get a bite."

After the teacher's demonstration, Ye Cheng imitated and cast his line.

"Crack!"—the rod struck the reef, making Uncle Chen Jinshui jump.

Ye Cheng also jumped—'Damn,' the line had flown out, but he'd yanked too hard and nearly snapped the rod.

"A Cheng, casting isn't about smashing the rod; it's about using waist and abdominal strength plus the rod's own flexibility." Uncle Chen Jinshui reminded him a few times.

Ye Cheng roughly understood; he reeled the line back in, adjusted the length, then gave it another powerful cast.

Whoosh!

Squeak!

"Whoosh" is the sound of line coming out; "squeak" means the line got stuck because I forgot to release it.

Uncle Chen Jinshui and Xiao Hu, standing nearby, simultaneously shook their heads and let out a big sigh, "Ah!"

That look of exasperated disappointment made even thick-skinned Ye Cheng feel a bit hard-pressed.

He casually waved his hand to mask the embarrassment, "Oh well, casting isn't fishing; as long as you catch something, it's fine."

"Ah—"

"Ah————"

Two long sighs!

Before he could even voice his feelings, Ye Cheng's bobber moved again—this time Uncle Chen Jinshui grew uneasy, "Damn, why is mine still not moving?"

When Ye Cheng hauled it up and looked, it was another coral trout.

"Uncle, your grouper bait has ended up on my line again." Ye Cheng teased.

Uncle Chen Jinshui muttered something, then hastily reeled in his line and cast again—this time landing exactly where Ye Cheng had been fishing.

He refused to believe it—his bait, made from over a decade of culinary skill, surely the fish would love it.

Ye Cheng watched Uncle Chen Jinshui take over that spot, but he didn't mind—his success didn't rely on the spot, but on his exclusive bait.

When he came out, he'd swapped in twenty baits; the fish were biting a lot, but it consumed bait heavily—after at most two uses he had to reload.

Ye Cheng moved to another spot, gestured for a while, then cast his line—this time a bit better, reaching about five meters and landing beside a rock.

The bobber bobbed up and down in the seawater; Ye Cheng tugged the line slowly, pulling and jerking, lifting and releasing, making the bait come alive.

Soon Ye Cheng hooked another fish—a flat, round-bodied creature that flipped its belly in the water; that broad, flat belly told him it was a pomfret even before pulling it up.

Pomfrets aren't big or strong, so there's no need to spike them; Ye Cheng gave a gentle tug, slowly reeled in the line, and landed a white pomfret over a pound, its silvery body flashing brightly—quite a sight.

Ye Cheng had always liked pomfret—mainly because it has few bones, and being flat, the bones don't embed in the flesh, making it friendly for someone clumsy like him.

Uncle Chen Jinshui was both envious and anxious, fretfully eyeing his own bobber, "Come on, move already."

Ye Cheng glanced at his bait—eight pieces left, enough for at least eight more fish, hoping to land something big.

This time Ye Cheng still only cast about five meters out, but his stance was much smoother than before, and he'd just tried controlling the landing point.

Hmm, basically nothing.

"Brother, I've got a catch."

An excited voice came over—Xiao Hu's side was also underway.

This guy, while excited, carefully reeled in his catch bit by bit—a Yellowfoot fish, only about seven or eight taels in size.

Yellowfoot is also of this sea bream hexagram; steamed is very tasty, but Xiao Hu's is a bit small, still not enough for Ye Cheng himself.

Ye Cheng always had goods; Xiao Hu also opened for business; Uncle Jinshui was so anxious he couldn't stand it, and started walking around with a fishing line.