Chapter 113: The Seven-Colored Koi

As the old man's exclamation rang out, Bai Rushuang and I instinctively turned to look in that direction. Soon, the other fishermen around us also began to walk toward the scene.

Before long, incredulous voices drifted over: judging by the splash, that fish must weigh at least several dozen pounds.

Hearing this, Bai Rushuang and I immediately perked up and instinctively moved closer. When we arrived, the old man had already brought the fish to the riverbank.

Someone nearby quickly fetched a large net and scooped the fish up. At the sight of it, many faces were filled with astonishment.

The old man looked puzzled. He said that judging from the splash and the strength it showed, even if the fish wasn’t fifty pounds, it should weigh at least thirty or forty. How could it be so small?

Only then did we notice that the fish the old man caught wasn’t large at all—at most four or five pounds. But its scales were entirely a vivid red, clearly a red carp.

The old man appeared disappointed. He carefully removed the hook from the carp’s mouth. Since it was a barbed hook, another hook was caught in the carp’s eyelid, which was bleeding profusely. It wasn’t clear where all the blood was coming from, but soon the old man’s hand was stained red.

The other fishermen, seeing the fish was small, lost interest and dispersed. The old man muttered to himself, “Well, it’s still four or five pounds. Not bad—I can have a good meal.”

For some reason, looking at the carp in the old man’s hands stirred a strange feeling in my heart, as if a voice was shouting in my mind, “Save her!”

When I looked again, I realized this was no ordinary carp—it was a koi. Moreover, the scales and fins weren’t merely red; on closer inspection, they shimmered with seven distinct colors.

“A seven-colored koi?”

The name instantly surfaced in my mind. The seven-colored koi was a legendary creature, said to be the incarnation of a dragon goddess who brought blessings to the people.

Of course, it was just a legend, not to be taken literally. Yet seeing the koi so drenched in blood, I couldn’t help but feel sympathy. Just as I was about to speak, Bai Rushuang beat me to it.

“Sir, can we buy this fish from you?”

The old man blinked in surprise, then looked at us and asked if we really wanted it.

“Yes, sir. Tell us your price—fish and bucket together,” Bai Rushuang said.

The old man was straightforward, accepting fifty yuan total and handing over the fish and the bucket.

Bai Rushuang seemed anxious, quickly grabbing the bucket and urging me to take it to the car. She wanted to bring the fish home.

I was puzzled. “Are you planning to eat fish again?”

She shot me a sharp look. “You wooden-headed fool, why would I buy this fish just to eat? This seven-colored koi is badly injured. We have to get it home fast and treat it.”

I had heard of healing cats and dogs before, but honestly, this was the first time I’d ever heard of someone treating a fish.

Soon, Bai Rushuang and I drove her Golf to a two-story Victorian-style house outside the art academy—her place, it seemed.

Inside, she immediately cleaned out the large fish tank by her living room coffee table and gently placed the seven-colored koi inside.

Only then did I notice that the koi wasn’t just bleeding from its hooked eye. Its body was covered in countless wounds, so many that the water in the tank quickly turned a deep red.

Seeing this, my brow furrowed involuntarily. I had no idea what this koi had endured in the river to end up like this.

Bai Rushuang busied herself with ordering me to change the water repeatedly, while she gently stroked the koi’s head, seemingly chanting some incantation. A faint white glow emanated from where her palm touched the fish.

I had no idea what Bai Rushuang was doing. Then, frowning deeply, she pulled her hand away and said in disbelief, “How can this be? What kind of koi is this? My healing technique isn’t working at all.”

After saying this, she hurriedly told me to go outside and fetch some medical supplies for stitching wounds, then placed her hand back on the koi’s head.

I was helpless. Where was I supposed to find wound-care supplies at this late hour? And honestly, what kind of sense did it make to treat a fish like this? But seeing Bai Rushuang’s serious and urgent expression, I said nothing and immediately went out.

After wandering for over half an hour, I finally found a small clinic that was still open. I bought some suturing needles and thread, wound ointment, and bandages, then hurried back to Bai Rushuang’s house.

Later, I thought about it—since the patient was a fish, it couldn’t survive out of water, so the bandages might be pointless. Still, I didn’t throw them away and brought everything with me.

When I returned, Bai Rushuang was still holding her hand on the koi’s forehead, her palm glowing faintly white. The koi’s condition had visibly improved, but Bai Rushuang’s face looked pale and strained.

I was startled. Though I didn’t understand what technique Bai Rushuang was using, it was clear that if she continued, it would seriously harm her own body.

I hurried forward to stop her. “Why push yourself so hard?”

She took a deep breath and said, “This koi is strange. My healing magic has no effect. So I have to transfer some of my own life essence into it, or it’ll die soon.”

I gasped. “Even if you’re kind-hearted, you don’t have to risk yourself like this.”

I gently pushed her aside and scooped the koi out of the tank, taking it to the kitchen sink.

While running water, I took out the needles and thread and began stitching the koi’s wounds. The process took nearly three hours. Thinking back on it later, I found it incredible that I had spent so long sewing a fish’s injuries.

Throughout, I was uneasy. Besides the hook wounds, the koi had over thirty wounds densely covering its body.

That explained why the koi had looked so blood-red when the old man pulled it from the river—and why it had stained his hand.

Throughout, the koi behaved almost humanely, remaining still in my hands. Only when the needle pierced its flesh did it twitch its tail in pain.

After finishing all the sutures, I applied a generous amount of wound ointment, and since it had to return to water, I wrapped bandages over the ointment, wrapping it like a tiny mummy before placing it back in the tank.

Exhausted, I felt drained. Bai Rushuang and I had done all we could. Whether the seven-colored koi would survive now depended on fate.

We had taken turns stitching the koi’s wounds with intense concentration for three hours. Afterwards, both of us collapsed exhausted onto the sofa and fell asleep.

When we woke the next morning around nine, I was roused by a call from Dadi. He asked if I was going back to school today, then chuckled, teasing me, “How many times did you make it last night?”

“Over thirty times,” I answered instinctively.

That reply left Dadi dumbfounded. “You’re not joking, right?”

Only then did I realize our minds were on entirely different wavelengths. I quickly explained, “Boss Dadi, what if I told you last night Bai Rushuang and I performed surgery to stitch up a fish’s wounds, working late into the night—would you believe it?”