Chapter Twenty-Four: Do Fish Really Recognize People?

Upon arriving at their destination, everyone quickly dispersed to enjoy themselves as they pleased. If there was one thing you simply had to do at a country retreat, it was fishing—nothing else compared. Qin Xuan was no exception; whenever he returned to his hometown, he loved going to the river near his house to fish with his father. But now the pollution had grown severe, and last year he’d barely caught anything.

Clutching a rented fishing rod, Qin Xuan eyed the reasonably deep pond before him and thought hopefully that today might yield better luck. He found a shaded spot, scattered some bait, then settled onto a small stool and reclined nearby. Yet after more than ten minutes, there wasn’t a single bite.

Just as Qin Xuan was growing frustrated, Liu Ruoxi messaged him, asking where he’d gone. Perhaps she and Qin Lin’er were bored of playing together. Qin Xuan sent his location, and before long, Liu Ruoxi appeared with Qin Lin’er, the two of them arm in arm, laughing like sisters—how affectionate they were now.

They crouched on either side of Qin Xuan, and to his surprise, the previously still bobber suddenly sank beneath the surface. Qin Xuan hurriedly reeled in the line and, seeing the three-finger-sized fish in the bucket, fell into contemplation. So, you like pretty girls too?

He glanced from Liu Ruoxi to Qin Lin’er, then stood and gave up his seat, pushing Qin Lin’er onto the chair while he crouched to the side. Qin Lin’er eyed him with confusion.

“I think these fish can recognize people,” Qin Xuan explained with conviction.

“Then why not let me sit?” Liu Ruoxi asked, dissatisfied.

“You’re just not as young as Lin’er,” Qin Xuan replied offhandedly. But Liu Ruoxi took offense.

“So, you think I’m old? Typical man!” she huffed.

Qin Xuan was nonplussed. “Why are you getting worked up? That’s not what I meant.”

“Hey, stop arguing. I think there’s a fish!” Qin Lin’er exclaimed, noticing the bobber twitch.

Qin Xuan’s attention snapped back to the pond—the bobber had vanished. Sure enough, he reeled in another fish, slightly smaller than the first.

He had to admit defeat this time, but Liu Ruoxi wasn’t ready to give in. She shoved Qin Lin’er off the chair and took her place, leaving Lin’er to sit on the ground, cheeks puffed in indignation. But in the face of Ruoxi’s fierce glare, she quickly surrendered.

The funniest part was that after Liu Ruoxi sat in the coveted spot for twenty whole minutes, nothing happened—not a single nibble. Furious, she hurled a stone into the pond and stormed off in a huff, leaving Qin Lin’er and Qin Xuan exchanging helpless glances.

Unable to contain herself, Qin Lin’er burst into laughter—safely, since Liu Ruoxi was already out of earshot.

The two exchanged a look, and Qin Lin’er naturally reclaimed the chair, stretching out comfortably. Before long, another fish was on the hook—truly unbelievable.

As noon approached, Qin Xuan and Qin Lin’er returned with more than half a bucket of fish, earning the envy of their classmates. In the end, Qin Xuan handed the fish over to the kitchen of the guesthouse, leaving the preparation up to them.

Their class packed four tables for lunch, and after eating and drinking their fill, everyone agreed to go hiking. Just hearing the suggestion made Qin Lin’er recall her exhausting National Day experience, and her legs nearly gave out beneath her.

Thankfully, these were only low hills, not a proper scenic area, and the landscape by the water and mountains was pleasant. Their destination was a temple halfway up the mountain, famous for granting prayers for love and success—everyone who came here sought a fortune slip.

Li Liping, the class monitor, led the way. She looked petite but was surprisingly fit—much more so than Qin Lin’er.

Qin Xuan and his two companions started out at the front, but Qin Lin’er quickly tired, and the trio soon lagged behind. No, in fact, the very last were Li Wentao and another classmate, whom Qin Xuan saw run off into the woods, their intentions obvious.

An hour later, the group finally reached the temple. It sat on the mountainside, and the summit was another half hour’s climb—judging by everyone’s exhausted faces, no one was keen to go further.

Qin Xuan, Liu Ruoxi, and Qin Lin’er entered the temple, admiring the calligraphy above the gate: “Ancient Buddha Temple”—full of character.

Inside the main hall, a few other worshippers lingered. After offering their prayers, the three were about to leave when a monk draped in a kasaya stopped them.

“Amitabha. My monastic name is Jingyuan,” the monk said, palms pressed together. “I sense the three of you have matters weighing on your hearts. Would you care to draw a fortune slip?”

“Does it cost anything?” Liu Ruoxi asked cautiously.

“Buddha seeks only fate, not payment.”

Qin Xuan was surprised—fortune slips here were free?

Without hesitation, the three each drew one. Qin Xuan studied the characters on his bamboo slip, pondering their meaning.

“Twin stars accompany the moon by nature; do not let the road ahead lead only to empty cups.”

He glanced at Qin Lin’er, whose cheeks were flushed, and at the bewildered Liu Ruoxi. He began to understand.

He tried to peek at Qin Lin’er’s slip, but she shielded it against her chest. Liu Ruoxi was equally guarded. At that moment, Monk Jingyuan spoke again.

“Would you like your fortune explained? Out of Buddha’s compassion, only two hundred.”

Qin Xuan, Qin Lin’er, and Liu Ruoxi: So that’s what this was all about!

But Liu Ruoxi truly couldn’t decipher her slip and, unwilling to show it to the others, reluctantly paid the monk and shooed Qin Xuan and Qin Lin’er outside before the explanation.

Left outside, their curiosity only grew.

“Lin’er, what did yours say?” Qin Xuan finally couldn’t resist asking.

“I… I absolutely can’t tell you,” Qin Lin’er hesitated, ultimately deciding to keep it secret. Well, maybe she’d share it with Ruoxi and make her jealous!

Qin Xuan could only sigh—he’d find out eventually, he supposed.

Ten minutes later, Liu Ruoxi bounced out, clearly pleased, so it must have been a good fortune. Still, Qin Xuan knew she wouldn’t say a word, so he didn’t bother asking. Instead, Liu Ruoxi shot Qin Lin’er a triumphant look, which Lin’er returned in kind.

With hours left before their five o’clock departure, the three strolled about and eventually decided, despite Qin Lin’er’s protests, to climb to the summit and enjoy the view.

Halfway up, Qin Lin’er couldn’t go on and demanded that Qin Xuan carry her. In the end, she got her way—at the price of a few playful smacks on her backside.

Qin Lin’er was light, and Qin Xuan carried her easily. Liu Ruoxi, walking behind, chided her by giving her another playful slap, leaving Lin’er with an expression of utter resignation.

Joking and laughing, the three soon reached the summit, where a viewing platform and pavilion awaited. The breeze was strong and refreshing—especially welcome in the summer heat.

There, they ran into Liu Qin, surprised to find she’d made it to the top as well. The three greeted her.

“Sister Qin, you’re here too?”

Liu Qin turned, saw it was Qin Xuan and his friends, and smiled, her worries hidden behind her cheerful expression.

“How did you all make it up here? Seems you’re the first of our classmates to arrive.”

“It’s all Qin Xuan and Liu Ruoxi’s fault! I’m exhausted,” Qin Lin’er complained.

“How are you tired? You got carried up!” Liu Ruoxi exposed her without hesitation.

“It’s still tiring! None of your business!” Qin Lin’er retorted, emboldened by the crowd—forgetting what awaited her that evening.