HLM – Chapter 956 A Stir at the Dock

When Wang Bo and the others’ boat returned to the dock, it immediately caused a stir.

“Whoa, what did you guys catch, Wang Bo?”

“An ocean chicken! That’s huge!”

“And four of them! My goodness, I haven’t seen fish this big in years!”

Their fishing boat didn’t return to the small village dock but went to the city’s main pier. Father Bo intended to sell the fish in the county to get a good price. Wang Bo, however, knew the old man really just wanted to show off.

He understood. His father had worked hard his whole life as an ordinary fisherman, battling wind and waves, never in the spotlight or enjoying being the center of attention. This time, catching four big fish at once, of course he wanted to flaunt it.

Wang Bo, on the other hand, always kept a low profile when he came home, trying to remain inconspicuous. Not everyone shared his mindset.

So Wang Bo decided that if they were going to a county town, they might as well go straight to Linhai City. If the provincial capital had a dock, he would have gone there instead.

The four fish were carried onto the dock and laid out by size. Immediately, a crowd gathered. Many pulled out their phones to take pictures and post on social media—these were rare sights.

A middle-aged man with a beer belly squeezed through the crowd. Squatting down, he carefully examined the four fish, then stood up and chuckled: “Bro, are these your fish?”

He pulled out a pack of Huanghelou cigarettes and handed one to Father Bo. Father Bo lit it and proudly said, “Not just mine—my son and his mates caught them too. We added them together, one family.”

“Are you interested in selling them? How much?” the man asked.

Another person chimed in, “Yeah, how much for these fish? Old Zheng, which one do you want? If the price is right, I’ll take one too.”

Yellowfin tuna isn’t as valuable as bigeye tuna. In major fishing countries like Canada, Northern Europe, and Australia, the price isn’t high. But in Wang Bo’s hometown, these fish were precious. The tuna market was almost monopolized by buyers from Japan, Korea, Malaysia, and Singapore, making foreign fish rare.

Besides, with the Lunar New Year approaching, restaurants wanted a centerpiece for their menu or a conversation starter. These fish fit perfectly.

Father Bo puffed on his cigarette happily. “What price can you offer? I haven’t sold fish in a while, so I’m not up to date on market rates.”

The beer-bellied man handed over a business card. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Zheng, Zheng Gongcheng—kinda like our national hero Zheng Chenggong, haha—but don’t get me wrong, I’m no big shot. I run a street food stall, haha.”

“Oh, Mr. Zheng! Pleasure to meet you!” Father Bo replied, clasping his fists.

“Street food needs fish like this?” Zhong Dabao, thinking out loud without much filter, asked. Wang Bo gave him a subtle look, signaling him to zip it. He didn’t care if this man ran a street stall or a five-star hotel; as long as he could pay, it was fine.

Zheng Gongcheng didn’t mind, laughing: “Well, it’s almost New Year. I want a good omen. Let’s make it simple—give me the smallest one, ten thousand yuan. Deal?”

Wang Bo nearly laughed. Yellowfin tuna wasn’t cheap, but ten thousand for the whole fish? It was a bit comical.

All four fish were sizable, the smallest weighing around 140–150 jin (≈70–75 kg). That came to less than 100 yuan per jin—not much.

A man leaning on a cane immediately spoke: “Old Zheng, you really think you’re smart? Been a shady dealer too long, huh? Buy these fish for ten thousand, then flip them to some buyer for a hundred thousand?”

Zheng Gongcheng frowned. “Lin the Cripple, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking nonsense? Alright, if the fish cost ten thousand, how many do you have? I want as many as you’ve got,” the man said.

Zheng’s frown deepened. “I’m not buying because I have them. If I had them, I’d sell to you. This is yellowfin, not bluefin. Ten thousand isn’t cheap!”

Father Bo shook his head. “Impossible. You can’t get these fish for ten thousand.”

Except in famous seafood markets, tuna is sold by cut, not whole. Depending on the cut, prices range from 400–1,200 yuan per kilogram.

“I was just throwing out a number. How about you quote a price?” Zheng said with a grin.

Father Bo looked at Zhong Dabao and Wang Bo. “You two, how much do you think these fish are worth?”

Zhong Dabao tapped the fish’s head. “Ten thousand is actually fine…”

Zheng Gongcheng’s face lit up. Zhong Dabao continued, “…but in New Zealand dollars!”

“NZD? How much is ten thousand NZD?” Zheng asked, dumbfounded.

“NZD is New Zealand currency. About forty to fifty thousand yuan.”

Zheng gasped. “Impossible! Bluefin tuna goes for this much, yellowfin never!”

“Yes, that price is for bluefin. But let’s be honest, worldwide, how many bluefin are there each year? This is yellowfin—a rookie fish!” Father Bo said.

More people came over, including a man driving a Mercedes S-Class, who asked about the largest fish: “How much for this one?”

Mother Bo waved her hand: “The largest isn’t for sale.” She patted Eva’s hand and Dale’s head. “The biggest one is for our daughter-in-law—fish dumplings, whole fish banquet!”

Eva smiled. “Thanks, but maybe sell it anyway. Dale and I aren’t big on tuna.”

“You just haven’t had our cooking. You’d love it,” Mother Bo said.

Father Bo asked, “Really not selling it?”

Mother Bo shot him a glare. “How much could you sell it for? You get more childish with age. How many gifts does our daughter-in-law bring each time? What did we give her? This time, the big fish is for her.”

Father Bo nodded. “Right, the biggest one stays, for the family.”

The man in the Mercedes nodded. “Two hundred thousand yuan for the biggest one. Will you sell?”

“Two hundred thousand? That’s more than I’ve made all year fishing!”

“One fish is almost enough for a house down payment!”

“Wow, this is lucky! Where did you catch it? Maybe we should try our luck too!”

Two hundred thousand yuan is a high price. The biggest fish weighed nearly 200 jin (≈100 kg), roughly over a thousand yuan per jin—high for yellowfin tuna. Without the New Year coming or having a whole fish, it wouldn’t sell for that much.

Mother Bo decisively said: “The big one isn’t for sale. The other three? Pick any you like!”