"It's a big marlin that is at least five meters long."

Kitahara and Feng had just arrived on the deck with breakfast sandwiches and sandwich salt bread from the cabin. They heard the news that the two people told him with great enthusiasm. After thinking for a while, they showed a surprised expression.

Five meters, many people have no idea about this, but back to the most familiar comparison unit: one floor is about three meters high, so a five-meter-long fish stands up like a little shorter than two-story building - it is certain that the average family's dining table cannot accommodate this fish at all.

The fish in "The Old Man and the Sea" is more than five meters long, and its length has exceeded that of a small fishing boat.

"Yes, it's amazing?"

The fish had not been caught yet, and the person holding the fishing rod was not himself. But Fitzgerald was as proud as the fish was his credit. He leaned on the railing and hugged his hands and made a happy laugh: "Believe me, this record is enough for any angler to brag about for the rest of his life. This is a five-meter-long marlin! The only thing worth discussing is whether this amazing fish can be ranked on the Guinness World Record."

"I remember someone once caught a dark horselin with more than 1,500 pounds."

Kitahara and Feng walked to the side of the boat, put the things on the plate aside, looked up at the fishing line that was sinking into the sea, and their orange-gold eyes reflected the rippling waves from the ocean, and then smiled:

"Let's talk about it when it gets on board."

"It will come on this ship."

Hemingway said that he had not had breakfast yet and had no time to get the sandwich that looked good on the plate. His iron-gray eyes looked like steel and stared at the sea without shaking. The previous fish's beating declared something to him.

He didn't know what he announced, but he had to figure it out. However, the collateral effect of not sleeping for a night was the severe headache, which made him almost know what he was thinking.

OK, you are betraying me too. Hemingway thought so, and wanted to shoot himself in the head. But he just made it difficult to move his fingers, and it was still trembling stiffly. Fitzgerald's help seemed to have not played much.

He began to tentatively continue to recycle the line, and the straight line began to gradually become loose as the ship advances. The fish began to swim very slowly, so slowly that he could retract the line little by little.

I need to sleep, and the fish needs to sleep, and it seems that it really has no strength after jumping up. So I really don't understand why it jumps up, but I should thank it. Now we finally figure out what kind of guy our opponents are.

Hemingway thought randomly, and the line quickly retracted, and then the fish seemed to understand something, suddenly struggled violently, and then circled around the sea in an S-shaped shape, forcing him to compromise to release a little line again, so as not to break the line with a sharp turn. After all, this ship is far less flexible than the fish.

A smart fish, because it is so smart, I don’t tie the thread to the railing and have a sleep.

Hemingway used his hand to hold the fishing rod and hold the fishing line with one hand, and reached for the food with the other stiff hand. He almost flicked the food to the ground, which made him frown his eyebrows in disgust.

He felt that he looked a little too stupid, like a poor old bastard who couldn't even speak clearly in the nursing home, messing everything up.

When a person becomes unlucky, he deserves to die. He mutters in his heart, as if he is going to cut it off if the hand drags his back.

Finally, he stuffed the food into his mouth and chewed it very carefully with his teeth. The fish in the sandwich was slightly processed and drizzled with vinegar sauce. It tasted very good and nutritious.

He knew it was the meat of the flying fish. Hemingway glanced at Kitahara, Feng and Fitzgerald, and found that they were looking at how big the largest marlin they had caught was on their phone. This made him feel a little relieved and tried to straighten his spine.

"The longest marlin can reach six meters...Who catches this fish?"

Fizgera

De frowned and poked the screen of his phone: "I still think this fish looks a little bigger."

"No matter how big or not, I suggest you take safety measures."

The traveler held his own coffee cup, opened the lid and took a sip of espresso, and then smiled and said, "I'm very worried that this fish will excitefully poke a hole for each of you with its sharp long beak."

Fitzgerald turned his head and looked at the traveler who was huddled in his windbreaker and drinking coffee. Then he looked around the entire deck. He felt that there was no second person without attack. So his eyes gradually turned into "Are you sure?"

Kitahara and Feng seemed to notice Fitzgerald's gaze with doubt, so they sniffed in the white mist that was steaming from the coffee cup, narrowed the pair of orange-gold eyes, and replied in a soft and smiling tone:

"So far, I have no precedent for any active attack by animals, Mr. Fitzgerald."

After saying that, the traveler took a sip of hot coffee and his eyes lit up slightly.

It is worthy of being the coffee beans specially bought by Fitzgerald. They taste really good after being ground into coffee.

Fitzgerald prefers tea and wine than coffee. Just looking at the drinks in the cup, it is basically impossible to tell which one is from East Asian.

Hemingway swallowed all the food, and he was not used to talking while eating it. It was not until he finished that he looked forward with his cold and hard-toned eyes.

His voice, which had become hoarse and trembling with illusion, was still sounding calm and calm:

“It’s going to start struggling.”

Hemingway suddenly understood the meaning of the fish jumping out of the water. There were still many thoughts in his head, but he could only see the fishing line that was sank into the water in his eyes.

The temple was swollen and painful, and the bones in each place were rubbing sharply. The muscles had squeezed to drip out liquid, but his heart was still beating smoothly and quickly.

I was very comfortable and I would have enough determination to defeat the fish. He told himself that even though he was not comfortable or happy at all now, he decided to make himself "comfortable".

The fish began to struggle violently, and it was a momentum that only struggled desperately. Hemingway held the fishing line that spread out with one hand tightly with his hand. His stiff hand finally moved a little under the drive of his brain. The sharp fishing line quickly cut bloody marks on his hand, slidding forward with slippery blood. It was as tight as a knife.

You will feel pain, fish. I will feel pain, but I can bear it, and if you can't do it, you will feel pain so much that you can't help but jump out.

Hemingway felt that he was tinnitus. His brain strike made him not well control his body for a moment, but he finally reacted well and pressed his body against the edge of the boat.

He knew that the sharp wound must have been cut from the fishing line on his back. For a moment, he felt that his vision was blurred. But he still spoke to the fish in his heart.

They were all equally overwhelmed now. The fish seemed to have jumped out again, and he felt the trembling of the fishing line, but he did not hear the sound of the water, which made him feel uneasy. He didn't know how long it had been, nor did he know if Fitzgerald and Kitahara and Kaede were still there.

It would be great if someone was there.

Hemingway muttered to himself in his heart, he could not see or hear anything. In this deep spacelessness, he suddenly felt a strange and huge emotion, but not sadness and fatigue, perhaps sympathy for the fish.

It tried so hard to live, but I was destined to bring it to the boat. But I wouldn't kill it, after all, I'm not a fisherman anymore. And I don't need to kill it to prove anything.

Humans will not kill the stars or moon in the sky, or the sun in the evening. Hemingway was once very lucky. He felt that humans were really not qualified to kill an object that shines in the sky. However, humans were not qualified to kill such a beautiful and powerful fish, which was nobler than humans.

Killing each other and killing each other is more noble than yourself

Many creatures are a great tragedy, and they are really fed up. Hemingway thought.

He doesn't like this very much.

So he is the seven betrayer. God knows why a person who killed many animals joined the seven betrayer and why he likes cats so much. He killed lions when he was young, and lions are a kind of cats. But he never felt sad about it, only pride.

He remembered that he had killed a beautiful doe. Its glass-like eyes were open gently until death, and the blood was not stained at all. The huge belly was bulging, and the deer in the uterus seemed to have a shape, but he didn't know if the other party was alive or dead. Because it seemed that it had never really lived, it was not considered dead.

Hemingway grabbed the fishing line, and the smell of blood filled his nose. He felt the fish jumped out of the water several times and then flowed away, and they were all tortured. But Hemingway knew he was going to win.

It just seemed that my hands began to feel a little numb because of the pain. Next, it was difficult for me to judge its actions - I should find a way to re-sensitive myself.

Then he felt someone put his hand on him.

“It seems to be going around in circles.”

A voice that belongs to the traveler sounded.

Fitzgerald seemed to have pulled him, and they are standing together now, as if he had been standing with members of the seven betrayers a long time ago. It took Hemingway a while to recognize what the other party was talking about.

"You did a pretty job! Heim!"

The president's voice sounded tall and bright. Hemingway felt that if he was in a better state, he would probably complain that he would speak like a big cock with a loud voice. However, he was not in good condition now, so he swallowed the words.

"Okay, it has started to circle around now, circle counterclockwise! It's a big deal! It's troublesome to circle around this ship!"

yelled Fitzgerald happily.

"I saw that fish."

Lucy opened her eyes wide in a bit of longing and surprise, lay down by the railing, and whispered: "It's so beautiful."

When did people come out?

Hemingway's gaze recovered a little, and there were still a few small spots in his eyes. He looked at the extra people around him in a daze and blank space, and still felt it was an hallucination for a moment.

But this didn't matter anymore. He gave up thinking about the idea. In fact, he felt that his brain was rusting very much now. However, after hearing the word "turning around", his body began to subconsciously use force to pull the fish over, pull it back, and pull it over with the strength of every muscle fiber in his body. His legs seemed to have become numb, and his blood seemed to have cooled down.

Keep it up for me, legs, hands, and brain.

He held his breath, but the fish swam away diagonally and hard in his blurry vision.

It can drag me to death, which means it wins, even if it will torture itself to death.

This thought popped up in Hemingway's mind.

But I won’t lose, I won’t. No matter how hard it struggles, I will struggle for a while longer than it. I just need a little more patience and perseverance than it.

But it doesn't matter if it really wants me to die. It's so amazing. It would be a pretty way to die, more beautiful than all the ways I imagined for myself in the past.

For a moment, the man who was already entering the old age seemed to be about to faint, but he did not. He pulled him tightly and little by little. As the fish struggled again, he felt as if he had grabbed him and pulled the fish over little by little.

"Did I pull it?" Hemingway asked with some uncertainty without any extra space to rub his eyes or wipe off the sweat dripping in his eyes.

His buzzing ears did not catch the answer, but he heard the cheers. This made him smile, and he thought of the cheers on the bullfighting ring, and what it meant was very clear.

"very beautiful."

Kitahara and Feng's voices were very close to him, and he felt that the fish seemed to be away from him.

It was so close. The fishy smell of the sea was sent to his mouth and nose by the wind, and he felt pain and a kind of gentle pride. But he had not yet succeeded completely. He had to endure it, and he continued his movements like a fish.

"It has purple patterns around it, and the fish fins on its back are opened, like a moon sank into the cobalt blue sand sea. Its tail is also like the moon, cutting open the sea water and waves."

It sounds so beautiful.

Hemingway thought, he gasped hard, and he continued to pull hard. He wanted to cough a little. He felt that he was about to collapse in the next second, but he still didn't. Now he himself couldn't understand what he was doing.

I can hold on for another second.

He said this to himself every second. Now he can't see anything.

Try it again. He heard the sound of the waves being cut open, so he said to himself.

He tried it, maybe more than just one. Anyway, his brain could no longer support such a count. He felt that he seemed to have reached his limit and felt Fitzgerald's hand, and the other party held his hand.

"You can touch it now."
To be continued...