I Build a Top-tier Fishing Destination

Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Grandfather and Grandson Go Fishing

That night, Chen Yuan lay in bed scrolling through his phone. He’d added a few more friends, and just like the ones from earlier that evening, none of them believed the Chen Yuan Fishing Ground actually had a hundred-pound Fish King.

Chen Yuan wasn’t worried.

As long as anglers showed up, he could use his ability to make the Fish King bite. Once its existence was confirmed firsthand, he’d like to see those same guys try to keep their cool.

Anglers always ran in tight circles — swapping tips on good spots, sharing techniques, hyping each other up over big catches.

Once word of the Fish King spread through those circles, the place would blow up. That much was obvious.

The one thing that still nagged at him was this:

”Is Qin Fen actually the high-value customer the system picked out?”

Qin Fen was his first — and so far only — customer, but Chen Yuan had never once heard the guy mention anything about fishing. What was the system playing at?

Whatever. Not worth overthinking.

Even if Qin Fen was completely useless, as long as he showed up, Chen Yuan had everything he needed.

He plugged in his phone, rolled over, and was out within minutes.

The fishing ground was open nine to five — easy hours, zero stress. But it wasn’t even eight in the morning when Qin Fen’s call came through.

”Hey, you miserable wretch, I’m at the entrance to Yu City Village. How do I get to your pond?”

”Did you drive, or take the suburban bus?” Chen Yuan groaned and sat up, still half-asleep, pulling on his clothes as he talked.

”Drove.”

”Then follow the village road and turn right. Take two bends and you’ll see my place. Come here first and I’ll walk you over.” Chen Yuan finished dressing, gave his face a quick wash, and bolted out the front door — just in time to spot a small car rolling slowly up the village road.

”Over here, son!”

Chen Yuan waved and hollered. Behind the wheel, Qin Fen’s face immediately went stiff. He fake-coughed twice and shot a sideways glance at the man in the passenger seat — an elderly gentleman, looked to be around sixty.

As the car pulled up, Chen Yuan spotted the old man too, and felt a pang of awkwardness himself.

That kind of ribbing was fine between close mates, but with someone’s elder sitting right there, it wasn’t exactly appropriate.

Fortunately, ten years in sales had given Chen Yuan skin thick enough to handle anything. He walked up to Qin Fen without missing a beat and pulled him into a hug.

”Damn, man, you’ve lost weight — I can actually get my arms all the way around you.”

”Get lost.”

Qin Fen thumped him in the chest. The guy was five-foot-seven and tipped the scales at nearly two hundred pounds.

The old man stepped out of the passenger side. He wore a traditional Chinese-style linen shirt, the kind that carried a quiet sense of cultural refinement. One look and you could tell he was educated, well-mannered.

”This is my grandfather.”

Qin Fen said, then turned to the old man: ”Grandpa, this is my classmate Chen Yuan — my best mate from university.”

”Good to meet you, Mr. Qin.”

Chen Yuan greeted him warmly and naturally, already reaching into his pocket for a cigarette.

”Put those away — my grandpa doesn’t smoke. Just take us to the pond. We’re here to take on that Fish King of yours.”

Qin Fen waved him off and headed around to the trunk. Mr. Qin gave Chen Yuan a courteous nod and said with a smile, ”Sorry to put you out, Chen.”

”Not at all.”

Chen Yuan smiled, tucked the cigarettes back in his pocket, and followed Qin Fen to the trunk, ready to help carry the gear.

Anglers typically hauled a mountain of equipment. Two full setups between two people would be heavy as hell. But before Chen Yuan even reached the trunk, Qin Fen had already slammed it shut with a thud.

All he was holding was two rods, a few rigs, a small bucket, and a bit of bait.

”That’s it?” Chen Yuan stared.

”You don’t get it.”

Qin Fen grinned. ”A master needs one rod. A rookie sets up a stall. One rod per man and the fish pile up like a mountain. Grandpa and me, one rod each — your pond doesn’t stand a chance. Go ahead and cry.”

Chen Yuan shot him a withering look.

Mr. Qin might be the real deal. Qin Fen absolutely was not.

Maybe Mr. Qin was the high-value customer the system had in mind all along, and Qin Fen was just the chauffeur.

”This way, Mr. Qin.”

Chen Yuan led the way. Mr. Qin hesitated, glancing down at his watch — it was just hitting eight o’clock, and the fishing ground technically wasn’t open yet. The message was clear.

”Come on, Grandpa, let’s go.”

Qin Fen laughed. No need to stand on ceremony with this guy.

”Don’t worry about it, Mr. Qin. You’re already here — cast a line whenever you’re ready. Treat it like your own pond.”

Chen Yuan had read the situation. He thought to himself: this one’s got principles.

”Really, I feel bad about this.”

Mr. Qin said, a little sheepish — though his feet were already moving. Clearly, he was a man who genuinely loved to fish.

It was only a few hundred metres. They were there in three to five minutes.

”Whoa, the pond looks decent enough. But these fishing spots? Pretty bare-bones, don’t you think?”

No pleasantries among close friends — Qin Fen went straight in with the criticism.

”Fish or don’t. Your call.” Chen Yuan wasn’t about to coddle him. No embarrassment whatsoever — if anything, he looked completely unbothered.

”What kind of way is that to talk to a customer?”

”My customer is Mr. Qin.”

Chen Yuan wasn’t going to baby him, simple as that.

”Chen, is there really a hundred-pound Daqing in this pond?”

Mr. Qin stood at the water’s edge, face lit up with a grin. An angler sizing up an unfamiliar stretch of water is like a young man spotting a beautiful girl — the mood lifts instantly, and the imagination starts running wild with possibilities.

”There really is.” Chen Yuan said it without hesitation.

Mr. Qin’s grin widened. His eyes were practically sparkling.

”Then I’m getting started. Grandson, go settle the fishing fee with Chen first.”

Chen Yuan laughed. ”No rush at all, Mr. Qin. Get your line in the water first. Who knows — if you land the Fish King, I might be the one paying you.”

”Fair enough. Let’s fish.”

Seeing that Chen Yuan meant it sincerely, Mr. Qin let out a hearty laugh and got busy setting up his gear. Chen Yuan drifted over to Qin Fen and bummed a cigarette.

”You eat breakfast yet?”

”Yeah. My grandpa was up at five. If it weren’t for your opening hours, he probably would’ve dragged us here at six.”

Qin Fen took the cigarette, lit it, and sucked in a deep drag before he looked even remotely awake.

”You never used to talk about fishing back in the day. What gives — you just here to keep your grandpa company?” Chen Yuan exhaled a lungful of smoke and asked.

”What choice do I have? My grandpa has the final say in the family. Some things just aren’t happening without his blessing.”

Qin Feng had dropped casually into a seat at one of the fishing spots. Sure enough — fishing was an afterthought. Keeping Mr. Qin happy was the whole point of this trip.

”What kind of things?” Chen Yuan asked.

With anyone else, Chen Yuan wouldn’t have pried. But Qin Fen was one of his closest brothers. Nothing was off-limits between them.

Qin Fen didn’t hold back. His expression clouded over.

”You know how I was always into making funny skits and comedy bits back in uni? Well, now that I’ve graduated, I want to try going somewhere with it. But the family’s dead against it — saying I’m wasting my time, that I need to take over the family business.”

Chen Yuan went quiet for a moment.

In his past life, the two of them had ended up at opposite ends of the country, and the contact between them had slowly withered away. He’d been too busy drowning in his own mess to keep up with anyone else.

All he knew was that Qin Fen had ended up in a job arranged by his family. The life was stable, predictable — but it had ground him down. The cheerful, spirited guy he’d known had gradually gone silent, hollowed out.

It was as if he were just going through the motions, counting down the days until it was all over.

Then the internet exploded. Short-video platforms blew up overnight, and countless people turned their lives around through them. Whatever regret Qin Fen had been quietly carrying only grew heavier with each passing year.

The last thing Chen Yuan had heard about him — he’d been diagnosed with depression.

Chen Yuan’s own ending had been worse. A terminal illness.

”It’s your life. If you’ve got a dream, go after it. Don’t let yourself end up with regrets.”

Chen Yuan snapped back to the present and clapped Qin Fen on the shoulder. The sudden burst of heartfelt sincerity caught Qin Fen completely off guard — he visibly shuddered, goosebumps breaking out across his skin.

He swatted Chen Yuan’s hand away, then leaned in with a sly, shameless grin.

”Alright then, bro — figure out a way to get my grandpa to land the Fish King. Maybe if he’s in a good enough mood, he’ll get on board with my plans.”

Chen Yuan stared at him like he was an idiot.

”What’s with that look?”

”You think I’m some kind of god? Like I can just make the Fish King jump onto your grandpa’s hook on command? Why don’t you jump in the pond yourself and hook it onto his line while you’re at it?”

”You’re the pond owner.”

”So what?”

”So as the pond owner, shouldn’t you have some kind of trick up your sleeve? Like a remote control or something to make the fish bite? Otherwise, how are you not going broke?”

”Get lost.”

Chen Yuan flicked away his cigarette butt and stood up. This guy really could talk out of his ass — though, if he was being honest, Qin Fen had accidentally landed pretty close to the truth.

Because he did, in fact, have a remote control of sorts.

Never mind doing his brother a favour — even just for the sake of the fishing ground, the Fish King had to make an appearance today.