Chapter Fifty-Nine: Qian Weining Buys Free-Range Chickens and Goes Fishing (Featured Tomorrow, Please Support)

After making a round, Qian Weining set his gaze on the pen of the native chickens. In his eyes, the place as a whole was quite nice—a perfect spot for leisure.

“The chicken bones you used to bait the fish before, they came from this native chicken!” Qian Weining pointed at the little chicken.

Ever since witnessing Zhong Di and the others feeding the fish, Qian Weining had remembered the event. Only today had he found Zhong Di’s orchard and intended to buy some native chickens, hoping to relive that scene.

“Yes, those bones were from these native chickens,” Zhong Di replied, not surprised. He had already guessed Qian Weining’s reason for coming over; this was merely a confirmation.

“Then pack me ten. How much are they?” As he spoke, Qian Weining had already taken out his phone, opened Zhong Di’s payment app, and was ready to transfer the money at any moment.

“Well… wait a moment. You might not know the price of our chickens. With our natural rearing methods and the addition of herbal feed, the price is three hundred yuan per kilo. If that’s acceptable to you, then we can talk further.”

Zhong Di always did things this way for customers who didn’t ask the price—he stated it clearly up front, making the transaction fair and above board. If you’re still willing to buy after hearing the price, then it’s a consensual and reasonable deal. If he didn’t mention the price until payment, that would be taking advantage.

“Three hundred? Alright, weigh them up!”

Qian Weining was stunned for a moment at the price but quickly recovered. Although expensive, it was still within his acceptable range.

He suspected, though, that perhaps this young man was trying to make a quick buck off him, thinking him wealthy after their previous encounter. But even at six hundred per chicken, ten would only be six thousand. To him, it was inconsequential—he could make many times that with a casual investment.

“Very well, but there’s another condition: each customer is limited to two chickens.”

Seeing Qian Weining accept the price, Zhong Di revealed the purchasing limit. This was something he’d decided early on—without limits, the native chickens would be sold out immediately. Just in Dongyang alone, they’d eat through the entire stock.

“Oh? Interesting. Can you cook one to eat on-site?”

This took Qian Weining by surprise. Since he’d accepted the price, wouldn’t selling more be better for them? Why limit the quantity? What a strange business strategy.

“We can, but our setup is quite basic—that’s a shortcoming here. Next time you come, it’ll probably be improved.”

Qian Weining wanted to eat the chicken freshly cooked in the orchard—this was a first. There had been one other time, with Master Ma, but that was a business matter. Qian Weining was a regular customer, which made it different. At the very least, there should be simple facilities: grills, an outdoor clay stove, tables and chairs for shade.

“We’ll just make a simple roast chicken.”

With that, Qian Weining rolled up his sleeves and got started. The orchard had plenty of dry wood ready to collect, enough to build a campfire easily.

Roasting food is best enjoyed in the evening, but even in the heat of the day, the craving could not be denied.

Plucking, cleaning, preparing the ingredients—when the chicken was finally mounted on the spit above the flames, it was destined to be an unforgettable taste.

“Hm? This aroma…it’s so familiar, so very familiar.” As Qian Weining brushed oil and sprinkled spices, he murmured softly—the fragrance truly stirred memories.

“I remember now—in Dongyang, a new high-end restaurant opened in Kulun City. They serve a roast native chicken. Though the aroma isn’t quite the same, it’s very similar. Incredible.”

“This chicken was worth buying. Why the purchase limit? In Dongyang, a roast native chicken costs two thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight, and even then, it’s hard to get a reservation.”

His tone was full of complaints—it was hard to tell whether he was griping about Dongyang or Zhong Di.

“As long as you enjoy it, that’s enough,” Zhong Di replied simply. Shao Hong seemed about to say something, but Zhong Di stopped him with a look. If the customer didn’t ask, there was no need to explain—no sense inviting trouble and endless annoyance.

Soon the roast chicken was done. Zhong Di and Shao Hong opted to stir-fry some river shrimp, and by the end of the meal, the shrimp was nearly gone.

The roast chicken was delicious—tender and rich, with a lingering fragrance that stayed long after the meal. These native chickens were just as good as Dongyang’s, and the price was more reasonable: just six hundred per chicken, and each weighed more than a kilo.

In Dongyang, each chicken was only six hundred and sixty grams, not a gram more, and they were weighed with the utmost precision.

The comparison was obvious—this was clearly the better deal. He decided he should come by regularly and take a couple home each time. Price aside, at least he could actually buy them here, whereas in Dongyang, even booking far in advance was futile.

“I actually managed to keep that Five-Stripe Black alive, you know?” After the meal, Qian Weining began to chat with Zhong Di and Shao Hong.

“Oh,” Zhong Di replied, unimpressed. If you provided enough oxygen, it wasn’t that hard.

“Well, never mind… Are you interested in fishing later?” Seeing Zhong Di’s indifferent expression, Qian Weining lost interest in explaining further. This wasn’t like chatting with a group of fishing enthusiasts where you could show off your knowledge—Zhong Di simply wasn’t interested.

He could tell that for this young man, whether it was feeding fish or anything else, it was all just a way to relax—nothing more.

Keeping Five-Stripe Black alive out of water was notoriously difficult. Last time, the ordeal had been quite something, hauling them back in an aquaculture truck after untold troubles. He’d thought survival was impossible, but they’d lived. He’d even invited several fellow anglers to witness it, and they’d all been amazed.

“Fishing? It’s too hot today! I think I’ll pass.”

Zhong Di looked at the sky—the sun was blazing, and even in the shade, the heat was oppressive. Fishing meant sitting right under the sun.

“I have all the equipment in my truck—anything we need, no problem. Just say whether you’re coming or not.”

Qian Weining cut through the excuses—there were only two choices: go or don’t go. All the rest was beside the point.

“All right, let’s go.” With things at this stage, Zhong Di couldn’t refuse. It would be a nice way to spend the afternoon.

“Zhong Di, the weeds in the field still aren’t cleared,” Shao Hong muttered. “How can you just keep running off to fish? At this rate, will the orchard ever thrive?”

“Stop nagging—let’s just go.” Since the decision was made, there was no need to fuss over details; they could finish the work after some fun.

“Why don’t you take the electric tricycle? My aquaculture truck has two seats, but if you’re not too picky, there’s some space near the oxygen tanks in the back.”

Qian Weining glanced at his truck. He’d been so intent on inviting them to fish, he hadn’t considered transportation.

The aquaculture truck was a type of cargo vehicle with containers for live fish and oxygenation equipment. With the last experience in mind, he planned to keep the system running at all times.

In the end, Zhong Di and Shao Hong chose to ride the electric tricycle—the aquaculture truck was best left aside.

Upon arrival at the reservoir, they found several people already fishing—all elderly men. Aside from Qian Weining, there wasn’t even a single middle-aged man present.

From a distance, Zhong Di surveyed the whole reservoir; apart from the elderly calmly fishing, there wasn’t even a younger uncle around. By comparison, he and Shao Hong were like fish out of water.

Qian Weining had brought plenty of gear: sun umbrellas, a portable cooling fan, a power bank, and even solar panels.

He really knew how to enjoy himself.

Zhong Di accepted a cold soda from Qian Weining, opened it swiftly, and drank it down in one go—refreshing to the core.

“Regular rod or casting rod?” Qian Weining asked.

“Regular, please.”

Compared to sea fishing, Zhong Di preferred a simple rod. For him, fishing was just a pastime—not a passion like it was for Qian Weining.

“I think I’m better suited to casting a net,” Shao Hong muttered as he reluctantly took a rod. Remembering Shao Hong’s net-casting skills from before, Qian Weining’s mouth twitched—if not for the effectiveness of those chicken bones, they might not have caught a thing.

They found a good spot, set up their equipment, and began to fish.

At first, they didn’t use chicken bones or meat as bait; they tried with the rods first, warming up and getting a feel for the equipment.

Bait is important, but familiarity with the rod is just as crucial. If you know your rod well, you’re more likely to catch something. Sometimes, even when a fish bites, inexperience means you just watch it swim away.

“Try it out—I picked this rod especially for fishing here.”

With practiced ease, Qian Weining cast his line into the reservoir with a sea rod. For him, catching small fish was no longer satisfying—he wanted a big one. No big fish, no fun.

The last time they’d cast the net, that huge dark shadow and the Five-Stripe Black they’d caught had proven there were big ones here. After contracting the reservoir and preparing killer bait, he was ready for the giants lurking in the depths.

“All right, I’ll try it out.” Zhong Di responded and began fiddling with his rod. He knew a little about what Qian Weining was talking about.

Some rods came ready-made, while others were assembled—rod, line, and float all selected separately.

He looked the part, but in truth, he didn’t know much. He casually flicked the line into the water—surprisingly, it went quite smoothly.

“Shao Hong, what are you doing?” Zhong Di had thought he was doing fine himself, but upon seeing Shao Hong’s attempt, he started to question reality—how had Shao Hong managed to hook the back of his own collar?

“Ha, I told you I’m more suited to casting a net, not using a rod. I hooked my shirt instead.”

A little embarrassed at being caught, Shao Hong rallied when he thought of his net-casting prowess. He just wasn’t cut out for rods.

“Maybe you should take a break and just watch from the side,” Zhong Di suggested, resisting the urge to cover his face.