Rising early, Zhou You looked at his slightly pale reflection in the bathroom, and a terrifying thought surged into his mind: *In youth, you don’t know the value of a mirror; in old age, you stare at the wall and weep in vain.* Startled, he quickly did a set of Baduanjin exercises.
Lately, he’d been slacking off, doing Baduanjin less often. He’d have to keep it up from now on.
For Zhou You, the main benefits of Baduanjin were stretching his body and easing his mind.
The movements had to be very slow and fluid, like flowing clouds and water, keeping the heart calm and unhurried. So it wasn’t just good for the body—it was good for the psyche too, soothing both body and mind.
Before, Zhou You practiced it once in the morning and once at noon, but never in the evening. Doing it at night made him too excited and kept him from sleeping.
He’d originally taken it up because of the mask mandates, which limited outdoor exercise, so he practiced at home instead.
Starting by following videos, he later looked up the principles and movement patterns of each posture online. Once he understood the underlying logic, it became much easier to perform.
In particular, the move “Two Hands Hold the Feet to Strengthen the Kidneys and Lower Back” had progressed from barely reaching his knees to slowly touching the ground after months of persistence.
For Zhou You, seeing daily progress and getting feedback at every stage was what he loved most. That was also why he could stick with it.
He bought some fruit from the shop downstairs and strolled leisurely over to Wang Fangfang’s place.
*Bang, bang.* He knocked on the door.
The door opened from inside, and a head poked out. “The landlord needs to knock to come in?” Wang Fangfang teased.
Zhou You thought to himself, *If you were alone, I definitely wouldn’t knock. But with two of you, I’d be embarrassed not to—what if I saw something I shouldn’t?*
The main thing was, he didn’t have a key anymore. To show sincerity, he’d given all the keys to Wang Fangfang and kept no spare.
“You’re here, and you even brought us fruit. Take a seat and rest—the food isn’t ready yet,” Wang Fangfang said, taking the fruit.
She continued to introduce him, “This is Jingjing’s boyfriend. You can chat with him for a bit.”
The girl living with Wang Fangfang was named Li Jingjing. She was decent-looking, and this was the first time Zhou You had seen her boyfriend.
“Hi, I’m Zhou You. I work as a teacher at a school.” “Hi, I’m Huang Yu. I’m in sales at a company.”
Huang Yu was short, a bit chubby, with dark skin.
Zhou You joked, “I thought you might be into swimming too, with skin like Wang Ping’s.” “Haha, with this build of mine, I can’t even swim. I usually like fishing, so that’s why I’m a bit tanned,” Huang Yu said cheerfully.
Mentioning fishing, Zhou You suddenly felt a twinge of discomfort he hadn’t been able to place. Now he knew why.
As a former hardcore fishing enthusiast, he used to want to cast a line whenever he saw a river.
As the internet saying goes, a fishing fanatic would want to drop a line even at the Bridge of Helplessness.
Fishing was addictive, and that addiction was etched into the bones. In real life, there were successful cases of overcoming drug addiction by replacing it with fishing.
That comparison showed just how strong the fishing addiction was and how terrifying fishing fanatics could be.
During the worst of the mask mandates, Zhou You had no choice but to buy a small fishing setup—specifically for tiny rivers and ditches, targeting small fish like minnows, whitebait, and bitterlings. The key was simplicity and convenience, while still satisfying the thrill of reeling in a catch. The rod had to be soft.
With all the busyness lately, he’d completely forgotten about it. The best way to break an addiction was to change your environment.
Gamblers always had gambling buddies, but moving to a different city made it hard to find them, which could be very effective.
Fishing was the same. Suddenly switching environments or getting very busy for a while made you forget about it, and once it passed, the addiction faded.
Fishing enthusiasts were all brothers under the sun. Seeing one, Zhou You felt an inexplicable warmth.
“Where do you usually fish? Got any good spots? Let’s go together sometime—I haven’t fished in ages,” Zhou You said, feeling the itch.
“Sure! I prefer wild fishing, not those pay-to-fish ponds. No fixed spot—I’ve fished by rivers and lakes,” Huang Yu said, pulling out his phone to show Zhou You pictures.
One of a fishing enthusiast’s greatest joys was showing off their catches to fellow anglers. If they caught a big fish, they’d definitely take a detour, wandering around for a few rounds before heading home.
Wang Fangfang had initially worried Zhou You might get bored, but seeing them chatting so enthusiastically, she now felt a slight concern—his range of interests was too broad.
“Look, this is a carp I caught two days ago, over five pounds. This little one, I just yanked it straight up,” Huang Yu bragged.
“And this is a catfish from a while back. It almost broke my rod, but luckily another angler gave me a hand,” or else I’d have lost both the fish and the rod.
Modern people had few recreational activities. Hunting was ingrained in men’s bones, but with China’s massive population, wildlife numbers had plummeted. In the past, you could even hunt sparrows, but now they were a protected species.
The only remaining hunting activity that still brought a thrill was fishing.
But gradually, as ponds and lakes were privatized, the options for fishing shrank. Eventually, it got to the point where if you knew a spot had fish, there were more anglers than fish.
Especially in big cities, there was virtually no space for wild fishing nearby. That led to the rise of “black pits”—ponds where the owner stocked fish, and you paid to fish. Want big fish? They’d stock big ones. Want small fish? They’d stock small ones.
In the end, to maximize the thrill, these black pits were filled with big carp, black carp, and catfish. When you reeled in, the rod would creak and groan under pressure, constantly pumping your adrenaline.
Later, it even evolved into gambling-style fishing: 500 yuan for half a day, catch a certain amount, and the owner would buy them back. If you caught enough, you might even make a profit.
Some would attach tags to fish, and whoever caught the tagged fish won the grand prize.
Slowly, slowly, it drifted away from the pure joy of fishing.
And into the trap of gambling.
So fishing and gambling were connected—the thrill they brought to the body was the same.
When the two combined, the excitement was even greater.
The two of them chatted and discussed, already setting a time for their next fishing trip.
“You two, stop chatting and come eat,” Li Jingjing said, setting plates on the table. “Huang Yu, don’t lead Zhou You astray, always going fishing. Look how dark you’ve gotten from the sun.”
Huang Yu chuckled without arguing. He couldn’t argue anyway—he *did* go fishing all the time, didn’t he? He wasn’t spending time with his girlfriend, so he had to let her have her say.
Seeing fish on the table, Zhou You picked up a piece with his chopsticks and tasted it. “This fish is really well-made. Which of you cooked it?”
Huang Yu also took a bite and said, “It must be Jingjing. I come home from fishing every day—sure, I get skunked sometimes, but I give her plenty of practice. That’s how she’s gotten so good at cooking fish.”
Li Jingjing burst out angrily, “You’ve got some nerve saying that! You catch the fish but won’t clean them—I do all the work.”
Huang Yu shut his mouth and could only give a sheepish grin.
A fishing enthusiast has no rights and shouldn’t talk.
*New author, new book—please recommend, please bookmark.*