Logically, the larger the fish, the higher the unit price should be. However, this resort took an unconventional approach: regardless of the individual weight, all fish were uniformly priced at fifteen yuan per jin. There was a rationale behind this: what the pond sold was not just the fish, but also the service. A live grass carp weighing around two and a half jin would typically cost about twelve yuan per jin at the local market. Yet, the fish Wang Zhuo and his party caught were mostly undersized—too small to serve whole on a plate, too lean even for shredded fish in a boiling broth. But they were still billed at fifteen yuan per jin. That extra charge was the "service fee." The petty or uninformed might argue about it, but Wang Zhuo, though new to this, understood immediately. Were the gazebos, the poolside umbrellas, and all the supporting facilities provided for free? Was the live fish stocked in the pond delivered at no cost? The high price was justified. The only thing that left both him and Qin Jingzhong feeling slightly shortchanged was the scarcity of fish over two jin. The resort stocked many medium-sized fry to boost overall catch volume—opting for quantity over trophy size.

The settlement was handled by the driver, Xiao *Ping. Meanwhile, the women selected the two largest fish from the baskets. Weighed on the scale, Wang Zhuo’s was three jin and two liang, long and stout. Qin Jingzhong’s was shorter and fatter, seemingly less impressive, yet it outweighed Wang Zhuo's by a full half-jin, tipping the scales at three jin and seven liang. In terms of number, Qin Jingzhong was soundly defeated; in total weight, including all the small ones under a jin, they were nearly even; but in individual size, Wang Zhuo was slightly behind.

This offered the elder Mr. Qin some measure of restored dignity. He chuckled and instructed Zhen Jin to place the two largest specimens into a single basket and send them to the resort kitchen to be prepared as a spicy boiled fish dish that evening. "Let's weigh this fellow too," Wang Zhuo said, bringing over the giant soft-shelled turtle.

Guan Yingying and Qin Siqing leaned in curiously. The great turtle’s carapace was covered in pale green algae, and where it had rubbed off, the natural grayish-black color showed through. Its belly was gray, marked by five distinct, darker spots. "These are the Five Golden Blossoms," Qin Jingzhong pointed to the underside. "Artificially raised ones don't have these markings, and their bellies are light yellow or blackish-yellow, not gray." "Do the markings appear on its back too?" Qin Siqing inquired. Wang Zhuo looked and nodded. "Indeed, there are five stripes there as well." "Its claws are really sharp. Wang Zhuo, be careful not to scratch yourself," Guan Yingying warned.

The large turtle, perhaps realizing resistance was futile, or maybe feigning dullness to bide its time, remained docile in Wang Zhuo’s hands. Its four claws were slightly retracted, its head tucked into its shell, revealing only a small portion, but its small eyes were sharp and alert. When placed on the electronic scale, it registered an astonishing seven point nine kilograms—almost sixteen jin. Spectator anglers gathered around praised it lavishly, estimating the giant tuanyü would fetch at least ten thousand yuan. However, among these onlookers were no seasoned gourmands familiar with market prices. A wild turtle of this weight was exceedingly rare. Forget ten thousand; for a wealthy, discerning epicure, even one hundred thousand wouldn't seem excessive. "I was bitten by one of these when I was little," Wang Zhuo laughed. "I was only four. My dad bought one and put it in a washbasin, planning to stew it that night. I thought it was fascinating swimming around, so I reached out to touch its head." "Quite the daredevil kid," Qin Jingzhong roared with laughter. "And then what?" Qin Siqing urged Wang Zhuo to continue. "It wouldn't let go. I was crying while holding the creature up, and only after I found my mother could I get it off," Wang Zhuo said, holding up his right hand to show a few faint teeth marks on his thumb. "A turtle's strike is incredibly fast," Qin Jingzhong chuckled. "Never mind that you were only four; even now, if you poke it, you’ll get bitten." "Let me try," Qin Siqing exclaimed cheerfully. She picked up a small spool used for winding fishing line from her feet and cautiously poked the turtle’s head.

The turtle’s head darted out. Before anyone could see clearly, it had clamped down on the small stick, gave a forceful shake of its head, and snatched it away from Qin Siqing’s grasp. "So fast!" Qin Siqing gasped in astonishment. The others shared her sentiment. Even Wang Zhuo felt a jolt of surprise. He had seen the turtle’s entire motion, but its attack speed was blindingly quick; though his mind registered the action, his reflexes couldn't quite keep up. Putting himself in that position, Wang Zhuo realized that if the stick had been his hand, he likely couldn't have dodged it.

The large turtle vibrated its head vividly, spat out the small stick as if disdainful, and then slowly retracted its head. The turtle’s neck was covered in thick, wrinkled skin that acted like a sheath, enveloping its head to guard against external threats as it retreated. Watching this arrogant creature slowly draw back its head, not just the younger generation like Wang Zhuo, Guan Yingying, and Qin Siqing, but even the nonagenarian Mr. Qin, couldn't help but smile wryly at the image—it strikingly resembled the male genitalia...

Qin Siqing’s cheeks flushed faintly. She mused that this explained why physiology referred to the tip of a man's organ as the glans penis—they truly looked alike. Guan Yingying’s association went deeper. She recalled Wang Zhuo’s 'troublemaking appendage' and compared that sight to the scene before her. "Ahem," Wang Zhuo cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had stretched for several seconds. He smiled. "I'll send this off to the kitchen. We'll have turtle soup tonight." "Tell them to wait until tomorrow morning to kill it," Mr. Qin quickly reminded him. "Killed in the morning, its yang energy is stronger, making it more nourishing."

... Mr. Qin went for his afternoon nap, having stayed up over an hour later than usual due to the fishing competition with Wang Zhuo. Wang Zhuo changed out of the clothes that had gotten damp when he jumped into the pond. Dressed in a dry, tight-fitting tank top, baggy shorts, and flip-flops, he munched on a piece of iced watermelon and headed toward the resort kitchen to check on the giant turtle. He wanted to test whether he was faster, or the turtle was.

As soon as he stepped out, he saw Qin Siqing, a girl just budding into womanhood, standing in the open space before the door. One hand held up a parasol, the other fiddled with her phone. "What are you up to?" Wang Zhuo walked over. Qin Siqing giggled and turned her phone screen toward him. "...The medicinal effects of turtle." Wang Zhuo laughed out loud after reading it, realizing she was researching the exact same question he was. "Brother Wang Zhuo, do you really think turtle meat enhances virility?" Qin Siqing asked quietly. "Why ask that?" Wang Zhuo looked at her, torn between laughter and exasperation. "Oh, just academic discussion," Qin Siqing wrinkled her nose and smiled. "I suspect this might be a misconception; it probably doesn't have that effect." "You have a point," Wang Zhuo nodded thoughtfully. He considered how abalone was rumored to be an aphrodisiac because it resembled female anatomy, and how many traditional Chinese remedies followed the principle of 'like cures like' or 'like nourishes like'—these were often scientifically unsubstantiated. This wasn't to say abalone or turtle lacked aphrodisiac properties, but that their effect wasn't as pronounced as commonly believed—it was merely ordinary. Abalone and other seafood are rich in zinc, a key component of sex hormones and an essential element in female lubrication. Therefore, eating seafood can enhance sexual health, but abalone is no more potent than other seafood. This was why Qin Siqing asked the question; she felt the turtle’s reputation had been vastly inflated merely because of its suggestive appearance, much like abalone. As for Mr. Qin’s instruction—"killed in the morning, its yang energy is stronger, more nourishing"—that sounded even less scientific.

After a moment of thought, Wang Zhuo said solemnly, "I believe the turtle can enhance virility." "Why?" Qin Siqing immediately adopted an attentive posture. "Just by looking the way it does, it can," After saying this, Wang Zhuo burst into laughter and strode toward the kitchen.

What kind of answer was that? Was he being willfully illogical? Annoyed, Qin Siqing stomped her foot and was about to chase after him when suddenly she grasped the underlying logic. "So that's how it is," she realized with sudden clarity. The turtle's appearance alone could create a powerful psychological suggestion in a man. This was precisely the suggestion therapy effect mentioned in medical lore. Imagine a man suffering from impotence looking at the turtle’s image, then being told about its supposed potent effects; he might feel invigorated even after eating a piece of cod, simply because he believed the turtle was capable of performance enhancement. Knowledge exists outside the books... Qin Siqing was instantly convinced.

... The resort's kitchen was a small, square courtyard. One entered through a circular moon gate. To the left was the cooking and dough-making room; to the right, the cold-prep and storage area. Inside the courtyard was a row of large tanks, each marked with a number—these were for holding the anglers' catches until the chefs retrieved them for preparation. There were also some cages for chickens and rabbits. In addition, there was a man-made pool, about one square meter in area and waist-deep, meant to hold well water. This pool was currently commandeered by Wang Zhuo's giant turtle. Staff had drained more than half the water, ensuring the large reptile couldn't escape. As Wang Zhuo entered the yard, several people were gathered by the pool, watching the spectacle, with the kitchen manager standing nearby. Seeing Wang Zhuo enter, the manager immediately said to the onlookers, "He's here, he's here. This is the owner of that turtle."

The group turned and looked. They saw Wang Zhuo wearing a white, close-fitting tank top, a pair of oversized, brightly patterned shorts covered in images of colorful pin-up girls, and black flip-flops. He was tall, well-muscled, with some faint, old scars on his arms, radiating an air of casual disregard. Assessing him this way, the onlookers couldn't place Wang Zhuo's status, assuming he was a young man from the lower social strata. With this perception, their feelings immediately turned to resentment. Such a rare, magnificent turtle—if enjoyed by someone with status and power, it would be one thing. But to let this kid have it? What a waste of nature's treasure!