Studying at Western University starts with a knife-forging competition

Chapter 90

"The specimen of that three-foot bigmouth bass from last time is ready." He placed the cardboard box on the grass and opened the lid. Inside the foam lining, the enormous bass lay quietly.

The scales gleamed a deep olive-green in the sunlight, its back was broad, its tail fin spread out, and its posture was fixed as if it had just emerged from the water. The eyes were made of highly realistic glass prosthetics, and the gill covers were slightly open, making the entire specimen incredibly lifelike.

"I had Old Tom, the taxidermist in town, do it. He's quite skilled. It took almost two weeks to get it." Frank took the specimen out of the box and handed it to Lin Yuan. "Here's your fish."

Lin Yuan took the specimen and examined it in his hands. The length and weight of the fish were about the same as he remembered. The specimen had been preserved and coated with a protective varnish, making it smooth and hard to the touch. He held it up to the light and looked at it, a smile unconsciously creeping onto his lips.

"Thanks. How much? I'll pay you."

Frank waved his hand: "Consider it a gift from me. You're a Chinese person who came all the way to America and caught such a big fish in a river. Make it into a specimen and take it back to show your dad. That's much better than buying any souvenir."

Lin Yuan did not refuse. He carefully put the specimen back into the cardboard box, closed the lid, and carried it to Robert's trunk.

"The barbecue grill is in the car, who's going to move it?" Peter dusted off his hands.

Lin Yuan and the man in the gray jacket went to the parking lot and carried the barbecue grill and insulated box down. The charcoal had been prepared at home in advance and brought over; it was packed in an aluminum foil bag, poured onto the grill tray, and spread out. The grayish-white charcoal pieces shimmered with an even orange-red hue in the sunlight.

Peter was in charge of grilling the meat. He arranged the pre-marinated beef ribs and chicken legs on the grill; the meat sizzled as it touched the hot iron grill, releasing an immediate aroma. Frank took a few cans of beer from the cooler and tossed them to everyone. Lin Yuan caught one, pulled the tab, and took a sip.

A few people sat around the grill, eating and chatting. Frank mentioned a small bass fishing competition in town next weekend, organized by the local fishing club. It wasn't a large event, and the registration fee wasn't high, but the participants were all seasoned anglers who had been fishing in this area for decades. He asked Lin Yuan if he wanted to sign up and give it a try.

"Didn't you say you wanted to check if it was just luck last time?" Frank pointed at Lin Yuan with his fork. "We checked it today, and it wasn't luck. If you want to go to that competition next weekend, I'll register you. The registration fee isn't expensive; just think of it as going for fun."

Lin Yuan thought for a moment and didn't agree immediately. "Let me check the order progress for next week first. We still need to rush those two knives from Nelson and Jason. If I can manage the time, I'll go."

Robert, who was listening nearby, chimed in, "What day of the week is the game?"

"Sunday. From 6:30 a.m. to 12:00 p.m., five and a half hours."

Robert turned to look at Lin Yuan. "Your workshop isn't open on Sundays, so timing shouldn't be a problem. It's worth a try; losing isn't shameful, and winning is an experience."

Peter flipped a batch of chicken legs off the grill and poked a few holes in the skin with a roasting fork. "I'll ask about the registration for you. I know someone at the club; you just need to fill out a form. You don't need a lure fishing boat; shore fishing is fine. They have a separate award for shore fishing."

"Okay. I'll go back and confirm the time, and I'll get back to you on Monday."

After finishing their barbecue, the group began packing up their gear. Lin Yuan pulled the fish basket out of the water; twelve fish were swimming huddled together inside. He rolled it up and hung it outside his tackle bag. The man in the gray jacket helped empty the charcoal ash from the grill into a foil bag and sealed it. He then wiped the grill grill grates with damp sand from the riverbank. The group then packed up their lines, removed the reels, put them in their bags, and folded their fishing chairs, tucking them under their arms.

Lin Yuan put the fishing chair and tackle bag into Robert's trunk, placing them side by side with the cardboard box containing the fish specimens.

He opened the car door and got into the passenger seat. The professor started the car and drove onto the gravel-paved sidewalk. In the rearview mirror, Peter and Frank were still standing by the river, probably discussing next week's game.

After the car turned onto the country road, Lin Yuan leaned back in his chair, watching the hickory trees recede into the distance outside the window. The car was quiet for a moment, save for the low hum of the tires rolling over the road and the soft whirring of the air conditioning vents.

The car parked downstairs at the dormitory building. Lin Yuan first took the cardboard box containing the fish specimens out of the trunk and carefully carried it upstairs. Matt wasn't in the living room; his bedroom door was closed, and the sound of typing could be heard from inside—he was probably still editing a video.

Lin Yuan placed the cardboard box on his desk in his room, opened the lid, and glanced at the large fish again. The specimen was indeed well-preserved; the colors of the scales were beautifully retained, and the details of the gill covers and fins were still accurate. He closed the lid, pushed the box against the wall on his desk, intending to take it to the blacksmith's workshop tomorrow to hang it on the wall.

He came out of his room, washed his hands, and went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. Matt's door opened a crack, and half a head peeked out, his hair disheveled, with dark circles under his eyes.

"You're back? Did you catch anything?"

"Got one. Twelve of them."

Matt walked out of the room and leaned against the kitchen doorframe, clutching a lens-cleaning cloth in his hand. "Twelve?"

The last time was about the same number. You've really mastered the technique.

Lin Yuan leaned against the kitchen counter, took a sip of water. "There's a fishing competition next weekend, organized by a local club. I've decided to go."

"What competition?"

"A bass fishing competition, in the waters south of the city. Shore fishing, five and a half hours."

Matt thought for a moment, then switched the velvet cloth to his other hand. "Are the fish over there edible? I heard Peter say that the water quality in the area south of the city is good, and the fish caught there are safe to eat."

"It should be possible."

"If you win, at least bring one back for me to try." Matt pointed at him with the velvet cloth. "I've never had fish cooked by you. Last time you caught so many, and you didn't bring back a single one."

Lin Yuan smiled. "Okay. I'll make it for you if I win."

"It's settled." Matt turned and went back to his room. The door wasn't closed properly, and the sound of keyboards clicking away soon resumed.

Lin Yuan finished drinking the water in the kitchen, washed the cup, and put it back on the shelf.

He returned to his room and took out five high-quality baits and the titanium alloy leader from his system storage to examine them.

The bait is made of soft rubber, and the feel is not much different from ordinary lures, but the color and shape are indeed different. It is a semi-transparent light green with a very thin fork at the end, which should make it move naturally in the water.

Titanium alloy leader lines are much stiffer than ordinary nylon lines, making them more bite-resistant and wear-resistant, and suitable for use on fish species with sharp teeth.

He put his things back in the storage compartment, turned off the light, and lay down on the bed.

The streetlights outside the window cast a small patch of orange light on the floor through the curtains. The sound of Matt typing on a keyboard came from the corridor, the rhythm even, similar to the frequency of his hammering when forging in the workshop.