Bai Yiqian had just finished speaking when the float on the lake's surface moved slightly—a fish was hooked.
Seeing Song Baiyan roll up his shirt sleeves, remove the crucian carp from the bent hook of the fishing rod, and then throwing it back into the lake, he couldn't help but say, "I see your days are becoming more and more like a semi-retired state, sitting here all afternoon, and even when you do catch fish, you throw them all back. What exactly are you after?"
"Seeking tranquility." Song Baiyan sat back on his low stool, "Once your heart is calm, you can appreciate the joy of sitting here and fishing."
"I haven't found joy, I just see you becoming like a hermit sage, hardly any different from those old men dozing off by the riverbank with their buckets and fishing rods."
