Carrying the insulated bucket, Chu Mingcheng came to the cockpit for dinner. When He Zheng saw this, he also put away his fishing rod and came over, "Japan's days are going quite well, huh? You even prepared a midnight snack?"
"Of course, fishing is quite the physical activity." Chu Mingcheng opened the insulated bucket, and a wave of steaming heat arose immediately.
"Oh, is this fish soup?" He Zheng was somewhat surprised upon seeing it; he had thought it would be chicken soup or pork rib soup or something.
"Yes, the day before yesterday I caught a Seven-band Grouper, took it home, and my dad made fish soup out of it."
"..."
He Zheng was silent for a long while before sighing and patting him on the shoulder, "This fishing business, aside from experience and skill, the most important thing is still luck."
"A Seven-band Grouper the day before yesterday, and a sea red spot today—those of us fishing in the near seas, how many people can have such luck?"
