"Hehe! Just a fluke, just a fluke! I still need a signature for the regular fish catch, right? Please, could I borrow a pen?" Zhang Yang chuckled as he looked at the referee who had been standing by silently.
"You did well catching those fish!" The chubby, round-faced referee nodded and handed over a carbon pen.
Zhang Yang neatly signed his name after the score, handed it back, then greeted the anglers on either side, slung his fishing box over his back, picked up his gear, and headed for the exit.
Once Zhang Yang was far away, the young man weighing the fish finally said to his master, "Master, I told you he's got great fishing skills! You didn't believe me, but he caught nearly one hundred and ten pounds in just an hour of mixed fishing! Honestly, I spent money on the black pit and never caught results like that!"
"Yes, he really did a great job fishing! This time you've got a good eye for talent!"
"Hehe!"
