The Fish I Catch Can Level Up-Chapter 49: A Fishing Lesson

"A Cheng, you're the real expert. You've already landed a sea bass! That one's probably worth eighty yuan," Zhao Jun exclaimed, eager to get his own line in the water.
He was a complete rookie. While Chu Mingcheng was already fishing, Zhao Jun was still clumsily trying to tie his line and hook, his movements slow and uncertain.
"It's not skill," Chu Mingcheng said with a laugh, tossing his minnow lure back next to the pier. "This spot is just loaded with fish. You could probably catch something on a bare hook."
Although he'd just caught a sea bass, he didn't feel like he had a complete picture of what was happening beneath the surface. This time, he opened the bail and let the minnow sink for a full twenty seconds, probing deeper water.
While sea bass preferred the upper layers, a common rule in fishing is that within the same species, the bigger fish usually lurk deeper down. If there were large ones in the depths and the bite was good, he would definitely choose to fish the middle and lower water columns.
He used the same retrieve as before, but his luck wasn't as good this time. Just as he was lifting the minnow toward the surface, intending to let it drop again, a small sea bass intercepted it. This one was even smaller than the last—maybe just over half a jin. He released it back into the water.
Zhao Jun was astonished. "A Cheng, why'd you let it go?"
"I don't have the same financial pressures," Chu Mingcheng explained. "That fish is too small. Better to let it grow bigger. You just fish your way, Brother Zhao Jun. Don't mind me."
It was a personal choice, and Chu Mingcheng knew it wasn't fair to expect others to do the same. Zhao Jun had a family to support—it was perfectly understandable for him to keep everything he caught. Now that he'd seen Chu Mingcheng do it, the choice was his. If he decided to release the smaller ones, great. If not, no one had the right to judge.
The fishing at the pier was genuinely fantastic. If the two of them could dive down, they would see schools of fish weaving between the abandoned structure and the main bridge above. Deeper still, even larger fish patrolled in groups. The local fishermen rarely caught big ones, probably because they were all hiding here.
Using a red shrimp he had caught previously and kept in his freezer, Zhao Jun dropped his line. It wasn't long before he hooked a three-jin sea bass.
One hundred and twenty yuan for a single fish! A wide grin spread across Zhao Jun's face.
Meanwhile, Chu Mingcheng was still testing the deeper water. After five or six minutes, his rod was suddenly yanked down with tremendous force, nearly wrenching it from his hand.
That strength!
Chu Mingcheng sharply raised his rod. The brand-new jigging rod immediately bent into a deep C-curve, looking like it might snap at any moment. The rod shuddered as the line peeled off the spool, the drag screaming.
He wasn't in a hurry to reel in. He held the rod high, watching the handle spin slowly on its own. He had already set the drag, and every second the fish pulled line, it was rapidly draining its own energy. He even adjusted his position slightly, letting his head-cam get a close-up shot of the line flying off the spool.
After three or four minutes, the line stopped moving. Only then did Chu Mingcheng grab the handle and begin to pump the rod and reel. The fish was clearly tired. He had intentionally let it run, and it hadn't gone far—only about thirty meters. Now it was resting, and if he didn't act, it might actually get away.
But the moment he started reeling, the pressure seemed to re-energize the fish. It took off again, faster and more aggressively than before. A moment ago, Chu Mingcheng had been controlling the rod with one hand; now, he needed both to keep it steady.
He was using the Sufix 832 line the shop owner had recommended, in the 0.8 diameter size. Today's fishing would be the ultimate test of whether it was as good as the owner claimed.
The fish below was powerful. While it was no match for the grouper or the monster that had snapped his line during his last rock fishing trip, it was easily the third-strongest fish he'd hooked while sea fishing.
With the light jigging rod, he couldn't just muscle the fish in. He had to play it, letting it run and tiring it out. After another seven or eight minutes, the fish finally surfaced, rolling onto its side in exhaustion.
It was a huge sea bass, well over half a meter long.
Chu Mingcheng guided it next to the boat, clamped a fish gripper onto its lower lip, and lifted it aboard.
Flap, flap, flap!
The sea bass thrashed its tail wildly, flinging seawater all over him, but that was just part of the experience for an angler. Chu Mingcheng didn't mind at all.
He glanced at the scale on the fish gripper. It read just over three kilograms—a nice catch of more than six jin, worth over two hundred yuan. Sea bass were best caught in fall when they were at their fattest and most delicious. If he could land just six or seven more of this size, he'd have paid for the entire trip.
He now had a good feel for the water column. Since the minnow lure was working, there was no need to switch to live bait. In the next half hour, Chu Mingcheng landed two more sea bass, one weighing three jin and the other seven.
While the bite was hot for him, Zhao Jun was running into trouble. He had lost three fish in a row, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
"Brother Zhao Jun, you having some trouble over there?" Chu Mingcheng asked.
He had noticed his friend losing fish. The first time, he figured it was just inexperience—it's normal for beginners to lose fish. The next two times, he was busy fighting his seven-jin and couldn't pay much attention.
"Yeah, something's wrong," Zhao Jun said, reeling in his line as Chu Mingcheng came over. "Is my hook too small? The fish bite, but the hook pulls out before I can even reel it in a few turns." He held up his hook for inspection.
Chu Mingcheng looked at it. It was a size 5 Chinu hook, perfectly fine for sea bass. The problem had to be with the technique.
"Let me give it a try," he said, taking the rod.
Zhao Jun stepped aside, watching him intently.
"Your rod is fine, Brother Zhao Jun," Chu Mingcheng noted. Zhao Jun had tied a small lead sinker to the end of his main line. "You should try fishing a bit deeper. The fish in the shallows might be smaller and not take the hook properly."
He opened the bail and observed the speed at which the line was sinking. It was faster than his minnow lure. He got a feel for it, mentally counted to ten, then flipped the bail closed.
After a short wait, the rod tip dipped. Chu Mingcheng immediately snapped the rod upward. With a swoosh, the line went taut.
Zhao Jun's eyes lit up. "A Cheng, what's that move?"
"That's called setting the hook," Chu Mingcheng explained.
“Sea fish usually bite aggressively and swallow the whole hook. But at that moment, the hook point isn't actually dug in very deep. When we lift the rod like that, we drive the hook in securely so the fish can't easily shake it out.”
He continued, "Of course, you have to keep pressure on the fish at all times. When it makes its first powerful run, you don't need to fight it head-on. Just keep the line tight and let the rod do the work of tiring it out. When you feel through the rod that the fish has stopped to rest, that's your chance to lift the rod, gain some line, and reel it closer."
"It's like that old fishing wisdom: let 'em run, wear 'em down, then bring 'em in. That's for the big ones, of course. For small fish, you just reel them straight up."
As he explained, his hands stayed busy. The fish on the line was not small—it felt heavy. Since he was using Zhao Jun's rod and not his own, he played it safe, taking his time to tire the fish out to avoid any equipment failure.
It took him a good ten minutes to bring the fish to the surface. The moment he saw it, Chu Mingcheng was taken aback. He never expected to find a sea bream this big in these waters.