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Leo actually wanted to go fishing.
After the morning grind of planting and watering, his stamina bar was empty, but he wasn't tired enough to sleep. Fishing was the only way to kill time productively.
Back in his original world, he would often spend his days off at Luopu Park near his home, casting a few lines into the Luo River. The riverbank was always packed with enthusiasts, their rods lined up like a fortress.
The problem was that Leo was terrible at it.
The density of fishermen on the shore was higher than the density of fish in the water. Leo hadn't learned much about actual technique, but his ability to chat, brag, and act like a pro had improved significantly.
"How about this," Leo said, looking at Ran. "I'll take the commission. When I'm free, I'll go fishing to relax. But I can't guarantee results. I have to eat, too. If I have extra, I'll save a couple for you."
He accepted the commission mainly because he was eyeing the fishing rod strapped to Ran's back. The one he had made from weeds and a stick was fine for whipping rocks, but using it to catch fish was an insult to the fish's intelligence. He wouldn't dare eat anything stupid enough to bite that.
"Then I'll leave it to you."
Ran gave a polite 90-degree bow and handed over the bundle of five or six rods she was carrying.
Due to the technological level of the Human Village (and Gensokyo in general), most were simple bamboo or wooden poles. You couldn't expect a feudal agrarian society to produce high-modulus carbon fiber.
Task complete, Ran bid Leo farewell and vanished. Returning to the Lost Village, she watched Chen playing in the woods and sighed, hoping the human wouldn't disappoint them.
Back at the farm, Leo hadn't chopped a single tree. All his stamina had gone into tilling the new fields for the Gensokyo order. The sooner those crops were in the ground, the sooner he could stop living on a fruit-only diet. His stomach was starting to protest the acidity.
With only a sliver of stamina left, Leo finished his chores, grabbed one of the bamboo rods, and tossed a Wild Horseradish, his Hoe, and a crafted Chest into his backpack.
He left the farm.
The Horseradish wasn't bait; it was breakfast. The Hoe was there just in case he found an "Artifact Spot"—those little wiggling worms. Digging those up didn't cost much stamina, and in Spring, there was a high chance of finding Radish seeds or clay.
Compared to the random garbage he was growing, Radishes could be eaten raw after a quick wash. For a man without a kitchen, that was top-tier cuisine.
"I'll go to the beach today. If I'm lucky, I might find some forage."
According to the map, the ocean lay to the southeast, past the town.
The vast ocean was a resource goldmine. If survival experts like Ed Stafford or Bear Grylls were dropped here, they'd gain weight.
But Leo wasn't them. As a child born inland, the biggest body of water he had ever seen was the Luo River. He didn't swim.
Standing at the edge of the sand, looking at the endless blue horizon, Leo's knees felt weak. The sheer scale of it made him dizzy. It felt too big, too empty.
He tentatively stepped onto the wooden pier extending into the water. It creaked ominously.
"Once I'm rich," Leo swore, gripping the railing, "I'm replacing this with stone. No, metal! Iridium!"
Accompanied by the rhythmic crash of the waves, Leo strolled along the beach. The spring sea breeze was chilly. The beach was pristine—no plastic bottles, no cigarette butts. Just white sand and shells washed up by the tide.
Most were empty, but by the time Leo reached the broken bridge on the eastern side, he had found seven or eight live Scallops and Clams.
Not a feast, but enough to survive.
Bringing the Wild Horseradish was a genius move. This was pure, natural seafood, untouched by pollution. Leo pried open a shell, dipped the raw meat in a bit of crushed horseradish, and took a bite.
"Oh god..."
The flavor of wild horseradish was intense. The spicy heat shot straight up his nose, clearing his sinuses instantly, before settling into a warm burn. Paired with the sweet, tender scallop meat, it was incredible. For a guy who had been eating apples and dried meat, this was a Michelin-star meal.
After finishing his snack, Leo gathered the leftover innards and shell scraps. He walked to the end of the pier and baited his hook.
What humans found disgusting, fish found delicious. Leo once caught a turtle in the Luo River using raw chicken hearts; he had spent the rest of that day walking up and down the bank, showing off his catch to every jealous fisherman he passed.
He checked his phone: 1:00 PM.
It took an hour to walk here. He needed to leave by 5:00 PM to get home before total darkness. Without a Glow Ring, the forest at night was a death trap for his ankles.
Splash.
The hook hit the water. Leo sat on the wooden planks, holding the bamboo rod, and zoned out.
The sudden leisure felt surreal. A few days ago, he was in a cubicle, typing "Hello, dear" and "Please hold, dear" to angry customers. Now, he was sitting on a private beach in another dimension, fishing for his dinner.
The contrast was jarring.
Perhaps the fish here were naive. After only a few minutes, a sharp tug yanked Leo out of his thoughts.
"Whoa!"
He carefully played the line. The bamboo rod bent alarmingly. If he pulled too hard, it would snap.
Leo didn't dare lift the rod tip. Instead, he kept the rod and line straight and simply walked backward. He retreated from the pier, stepping onto the sand, dragging the fish out of the water by sheer distance. It was cowardly, but effective.
A flat, brown fish flapped onto the sand. Both eyes were on the same side of its head.
"A Flounder?"
Leo, a landlocked city boy, couldn't identify a fish unless it was breaded and fried. Thankfully, the Stardew Valley App had a scan function.
Beep.
Flounder A flat fish that lives on the ocean floor. Good eating.
"Nice," Leo grinned. "Similar to Basa fish. No tiny bones. Just one main spine."
He tossed the live fish into his backpack, where it entered stasis. Dinner secured.
He baited the hook again. He had eaten seven shells, so he had seven pieces of bait. Seven chances. If he was lucky, that meant seven fish—enough to last him a few days.
"But I don't have a stove..." Leo frowned as he cast the line again. "Maybe I should propose a joint venture with Miss Ran? I provide the fish, she provides the pot?"
It was a solid plan. Who wants to eat raw sashimi every day when you can have fish soup?
PLS SUPPORT ME AND THROW POWERSTONES .