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Chapter 34: A Sense of Security
What’s the most important thing when catching fish in the wild?
Some might argue it’s tools—after all, catching fish with bare hands is notoriously difficult. Others might say it’s reflexes; even the best tools are useless if you can’t anticipate the fish’s movements and timing.
But Wang Ping had spent plenty of time in the wild on missions, snaring rabbits and fishing often enough to know better. For veterans like him, the first step before catching fish was always choosing the right spot. Picking the perfect location could make the task twice as effective with half the effort.
Take, for example, where Wang Ping’s claw was currently submerged. Beneath the water plants lay the densest concentration of microorganisms and aquatic insects in the lake—a prime spot for fish to gather. As for tools? What could possibly be sharper than Wang Ping’s claws?
Remaining perfectly still in a pose reminiscent of a monkey scooping the moon, Wang Ping watched as the stirred-up water gradually settled, becoming clear again. Through the surface, he could see sharp claws protruding from the sandy bottom, along with tufts of fur swaying gently with the current.
Fishing, much like angling, required patience. The water had just been disturbed, and Wang Ping’s claws carried scents unfamiliar to the lakebed. Fish wouldn’t approach until they grew accustomed to these changes.
On the opposite bank, the wildebeests finished drinking and ambled westward along the shore toward the grasslands. Fifteen kilometers northwest lay the geographic heart of the Ngorongoro Conservation Area: the crater of Mount Ngorongoro.
As the second-largest volcano in the world, Mount Ngorongoro had erupted only once, two million years ago, before entering a long period of dormancy. Perhaps that eruption had left it hollowed out, but today its rich biodiversity earned it the nickname “African Eden.”
Volcanoes were categorized as either “active” or “extinct,” though ironically, so-called “extinct” volcanoes often became cradles of life, teeming with species. In contrast, “active” volcanoes were barren wastelands where not even grass dared to grow.
Mount Ngorongoro was one such “extinct” volcano. Its crater, over 18 kilometers in diameter, had been smoothed by two million years of erosion, resembling more of a plain than a volcanic caldera. By 1956, the Tanzanian government officially merged it geographically with Serengeti, creating what was now known as the Serengeti Plains. For a volcano to achieve this level of distinction was quite remarkable.
The wildebeests drinking at the lake were clearly creatures of the plains. And last night’s gunshots? They’d come from the direction of the plains too.
“Maybe I should go check it out?” Wang Ping mused, his eyes scanning the water.
Suddenly, a tilapia about the width of a hand flicked its tail and swam into the layer of water above Wang Ping’s claw.
Whoosh!
A silvery splash sparkled under the sunlight as Wang Ping slapped the fish out of the water, sending it flying onto the rocks of the shallow shore behind him.
The poor tilapia didn’t have time to struggle. It hit the rocks hard, shedding scales and knocking itself unconscious.
“Done. Time to head back.”
With the fish clutched in his mouth, Wang Ping returned to the base, feeling rather pleased with himself. Upon arrival, he found Gu Lang standing by the car, changing clothes.
The rear compartment of the off-road vehicle was open, revealing the items Wang Ping had noticed earlier. Gu Lang’s body was wrapped tightly in layers of bandages, especially around his arms and legs, making him look like an unwrapped mummy. The strong smell of medicinal ointment mixed with sweat wafted through the air, nearly causing Wang Ping to drop the fish in disgust.
Stripping off his tattered clothes, Gu Lang rummaged through the backpack in the car, pulling out a pair of hiking pants, a quick-drying T-shirt, and a canvas jacket. But after less than five seconds, he peeled off the jacket and tossed it onto the front seat—it was simply too hot.
Feeling a gaze on his back, Gu Lang instinctively turned around to find Wang Ping staring at him, a fish dangling from his mouth.
“Huh? Where did you catch that fish? Is there a river nearby?”
Gu Lang’s eyes lit up, and he hurriedly asked.
“…”
To be honest, Wang Ping didn’t feel like responding.
If one looked carefully enough to the south, the riverbank was visible through the trees. Even if it wasn’t, the faint sound of flowing water should have been audible. Either Gu Lang was a complete novice who’d never ventured into the wild, or he was just trying to make conversation. The latter seemed more likely.
Sure enough, Gu Lang revealed his true intentions a moment later.
“If there’s a river… could you accompany me to fetch some water?”
Why do you need someone to accompany you just to fetch some water?
Wang Ping shot him a suspicious glare, highly skeptical of Gu Lang’s motives.
What, you think I’ll follow you to the river so you can push me in? Don’t you know otters and honey badgers are cousins in the weasel family? My swimming speed could rival your driving skills!
“What’s with that look? Just nod if you’re willing! I don’t dare go alone…”
Under Wang Ping’s hostile stare, Gu Lang felt both frustrated and helpless.
This trip into nature had given him a crash course in humility, teaching him how small and fragile humans were in the grand scheme of things. While he now harbored a newfound respect for nature, it also left him terrified of being alone in the wilderness. He’d already spotted the shimmering river to the south through the gaps in the trees, but the thought of crossing the forest alone made his heart race. Without Wang Ping by his side, he’d have nowhere to hide if he encountered a wild animal.
Even if nothing happened and he reached the river safely, who knew what dangers lurked there? What if there were crocodiles? Or other dangerous animals? Seeing Wang Ping gave Gu Lang a sense of security and reassurance.
Though it sounded absurd, having Wang Ping around somehow made him feel braver. Though looking at Wang Ping’s scrawny frame, Gu Lang couldn’t help but wonder where this unreliable confidence came from. Maybe it was a symptom of post-traumatic stress…
Wait, seriously? Are you kidding me? Wang Ping was utterly baffled. This guy, who’d fearlessly driven across the savanna alone, was now claiming he was too scared to fetch water from the river?
Do you really expect me to believe that?
By now, Gu Lang had picked up a bucket he’d apparently found earlier in the northern building. Glancing at the fish in Wang Ping’s mouth, he spoke again: “Let’s go, shall we? You need water to clean this fish anyway, right? How else are you going to gut it?”
Oh, right.
Wang Ping realized he should’ve cleaned the fish at the lake. But now that he had free labor, why bother doing it himself?
He tossed the fish into the bucket, turned, and led the way south toward the closer riverbank.
As for whether Gu Lang had any tricks up his sleeve? Please. Wang Ping doubted it.
He was curious to see what Gu Lang was really up to.
Emerging from the forest, Gu Lang surveyed the rocky, weed-covered riverbank. He marveled at the peculiar landscape: dense forests lined both sides of the river, yet not a single tree grew along the banks.
Wang Ping glanced westward toward the small lake.
A new group of animals had gathered to drink. A warthog and a mother-son pair of impalas stood about ten meters apart, sipping water while keeping a wary eye on each other.
Gu Lang approached the shallow river, which was less than a meter deep, and squatted down to retrieve the tilapia from the bucket.
“Let me tell you, I’m an expert at gutting fish…”
Before he could finish, the tilapia, which had regained consciousness but pretended to be dead, flicked its tail and slipped from Gu Lang’s grasp, landing with a plop back into the water.
Gu Lang: “….”
Wang Ping: “….”
So, you dragged me all the way to the river just to throw away my breakfast?
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