HDRDTH -Chapter 62 Mr. Yu, You Fish First. I’m Going to Touch Up My Makeup.

“Dad! My real father! Why are you walking so fast!”

Wang Dafu gasped as he stumbled out, dragging two huge woven sacks. They were filled with leftovers he had scavenged from the school cafeteria—spoiled corn kernels and all sorts of rotten scraps.

Qin Yue followed right behind him, high heels clicking wildly as her hair fell into disarray.

The moment they rushed out of the iron gate, they immediately saw the scene on the narrow mountain path.

A woman—barefoot, wearing only a white camisole—stood motionless in front of Yu Xian.

Qin Yue’s eyes slowly moved upward and locked onto the woman’s face.

Clack.

Her Hermès bag dropped straight onto the stone pavement.

Her entire body froze like it had been hit by 100,000 volts. Her pupils shook violently.

“Fi… Sister Fei?!”

Qin Yue’s voice cracked into a sharp squeal.

“W-What are you doing here?! And what is that outfit?! Have you gone insane?!”

Wang Dafu wasn’t a fan, but he recognized that face instantly—she appeared on television every day.

He looked at the barefoot woman, then at the irritated Yu Xian, and broke into a vulgar, deeply impressed grin.

“Dad… you’re insane! You just came off stage ten minutes ago and already dragged a diva into the back mountain woods?”

He gave a thumbs-up.

“Old ginger really is spicier. I’m impressed, Dad!”

“Impressed your ass! Shut up!”

Yu Xian kicked him hard in the knee, nearly sending him into a drainage ditch.

“She insisted on following me to make bait! I couldn’t stop her even if I wanted to!”

“Ma-Make bait?!”

Qin Yue’s legs went weak. She nearly collapsed, thinking her brain had malfunctioned.

A top-tier diva of the Mandarin music industry—Wang Fei—whose annual royalties alone could buy a listed company… barefoot in the middle of the night… going into the mountains to mix fish bait with a fishing lunatic?

“Qin Yue, you know her?” Wang Fei asked calmly, glancing at her coldly.

Then she stepped toward Wang Dafu.

“That bag—is it bait? Give it to me.”

She even reached out her hands, trying to take the stinking woven sack filled with rotten food.

“NO! NO! STOP! OH MY GOD!”

Qin Yue panicked and lunged forward, hugging the sack tightly.

“Sister Fei, that’s rotten garbage! Your hands have played Steinway pianos on national stages—you can’t touch this!”

“Piano playing can’t fix my voice. Let go.”

Wang Fei pulled harder, expression cold and unyielding.

“Enough already!”

Yu Xian snapped, finally irritated.

He stepped forward, grabbed the sack directly from Wang Dafu, and slung it onto his shoulder like a bag of rice. The sour liquid even dripped onto his hoodie.

“If you want to follow, then follow! But don’t blame me if you get bitten by snakes! I’m going fishing no matter what!”

Without looking back, he strode into the dark mountain path.

Wang Fei followed immediately—barefoot stepping onto sharp stones without hesitation.

“Chase them! Hurry!”

Wang Dafu screamed in despair.

“If anything happens to her, our whole company is doomed!”

Half an hour later.

They pushed through waist-high weeds. A cold, damp wind carrying the smell of rot and earth hit them head-on.

Yu Xian stopped.

He parted the final layer of reeds.

Under moonlight, a vast stretch of water appeared—still, black, and eerily silent. Not even a single insect chirped.

“Bang!”

He dropped the woven sack onto the ground.

With one hand, he opened the black wooden case and pulled out his cold-glinting titanium lure rod.

“You want a song, right?”

Yu Xian turned to Wang Fei, who now had scratches all over her feet.

He crouched down, scooped a lump of black mud mixed with rotten corn and food scraps, and kneaded it into a foul-smelling bait ball.

“See that faint whirlpool in the center?”

He suddenly threw the mud ball onto her chest, splattering her white camisole with filth.

“Throw this exact thing into the center of that whirlpool. If you miss by even one inch—you’ll never hear a single note from me in your life.”

Wang Fei held the disgusting bait in both hands.

Qin Yue covered her mouth behind them, crying silently.

But Wang Fei didn’t hesitate.

She walked to the shore, took a deep breath, and threw.

Splash!

The bait landed—ten centimeters off.

“Wrong.”

Yu Xian’s voice was ice-cold.

“Force is off. Do it again.”

Wang Fei gritted her teeth and dove her hands back into the rotten mixture.

Again.

And again.

For three full hours.

At 3 a.m., the air turned cold. Thick fog covered the water surface.

The rod remained motionless. Not a single bite.

“This old bastard Shen Zhi Nian didn’t trick me with a bathtub, did he?”

Yu Xian muttered irritably, cigarette glowing faintly.

He turned his head.

Wang Fei’s appearance was completely ruined.

Her white camisole was now gray-black, covered in rotten food. Her bare legs were swollen with dozens of mosquito bites. Yet she continued mechanically—grabbing mud, mixing bait, throwing it again and again.

No emotion. No complaint. Only emptiness.

“Still no fish… because I didn’t throw enough bait?”

Her voice was hoarse, like sandpaper.

“You’re not fishing,” Yu Xian sighed. “You’re filling the sea.”

From the bushes, Wang Dafu was crying.

“Dad! Please let’s leave! This place is cursed! If paparazzi take photos of a diva doing this, we’re finished!”

Yu Xian ignored him.

He watched as Wang Fei finally hit the exact center of the whirlpool.

“Enough.”

He crushed out his cigarette.

“You spent three hours mixing mud… at least you’ve turned that arrogant diva pride of yours into actual mud.”

Wang Fei froze.

She stared at him.

Then suddenly dropped the remaining bait and straightened up.

“Mr. Yu…”

She said seriously:

“Please fish first. I’m going to touch up my makeup.”

Yu Xian’s vision went black.

He nearly fell straight into the pond.