Wang Chao's Fishing Talk

The sea of Wangchao Village is often turbulent.

Two fishermen have lived in the village for many years, one named A-Yong and the other A-Nuo.

A-Yong was dealt a bad hand from the start. His home was bare, his wooden hut drafty, the stove often cold, and the fishing net in his hands was full of holes, looking as if it could be torn apart by the waves at any moment. Everyone thought he had no way out, that his life was as fragile as duckweed, and they all advised him to stay in his place and live cautiously.

But A-Yong refused.

The whole village adhered to common sense: don't go out when the wind rises, don't sail when it rains, rest when the sky is overcast, and bring the boats in when you hear the wind. Everyone was waiting for a perfect weather condition where everything was ready, for an absolutely safe opportunity to go to sea.

Only A-Yong went against the grain.

The more the days were filled with dark clouds pressing down on the sea and waves crashing against the shore, the more the village's hundred boats returned to port and every household closed its doors, the more he would untie the ropes, raise the sails, and venture out to sea alone.

Amidst towering muddy waves, his small boat tossed and turned in the vast, stormy sea, the tattered fishing net flapping loudly in the wind. Standing on the swaying bow, A-Yong focused his mind and steadied his breath, using his inner strength to stabilize the rocking boat, singing "Sinking River" loudly amidst the raging storm.

His singing voice pierced through the curtain of rain, overpowering the roar of the waves—frank, sharp, resolute, and arrogant. So what if he was a fisherman? Chen Youliang almost conquered the world.

Some laughed at him for being foolish, for being crazy, for gambling his life with a broken net, mocking him for not knowing how to avoid risks, for not understanding the need to plan before acting, and for being doomed to be buried at sea sooner or later.

Faced with rumors, A-Yong remained calm. Gazing at the churning sea, he uttered a clear truth:
"Everyone avoids the storm, so there's no competition within it. Everyone waits for calm seas, but in times of peace and prosperity, it has always been a thousand people fighting for one net, ten thousand people scrambling for one fish.
I started with a bad hand, with nothing. Staying at home mending a broken net, idly dreaming of the future, will only keep me stuck in place, eating away at what little I have. Safe comfort is a cage; only by striking against the trend is there boundless vitality."

Daring to venture in desperate situations, daring to compete where no one else does—this was the way of gambling etched into A-Yong's bones.

The stormy seas never fail the brave.

One day, a sudden gale arose at sea, and huge waves capsized boats. A wealthy merchant passing through the area found his vessel in distress, damaged and in dire straits. Coincidentally, A-Yong had just gone out fishing that day and happened to be there. After several bouts of struggle and tossing, he finally managed to rescue the drowning merchant safely back to shore.

Grateful for the life-saving grace, the merchant helped with all his might, paving a brand new path for A-Yong.

A lowly fisherman with a broken net thus turned his fate around against the wind, riding the waves to the top, rewriting his destiny of poverty and hardship, and lived to become the most legendary life in Wangchao Village.

In contrast, A-Nuo, the clever man praised by everyone in the village, lived to become the most standard, correct template in the eyes of the world.

He came from a wealthy family, his fishing net was intact, his fishing gear exquisite and complete, never lacking food or money. He believed in planning before acting and thinking thrice before moving throughout his life, engraving the word "caution" into his day-to-day existence.

If the sunny sky had a slight cloud, he wouldn't go out; if the sea surface had a light breeze, he wouldn't sail; hearing that it was raining in the distance or predicting a change in the tide, he would immediately close his door and rest.

Day after day, he stayed in his wooden hut, meticulously mending his net, wiping his fishing gear, studying the tides, and observing the sky. He was always waiting for an absolutely perfect, foolproof window to go to sea, unwilling to take the slightest risk or endure the smallest hardship.

In five days, he would dare, at most, to find one day of perfect, windless, rainless weather to go to sea with peace of mind.

But the most ironic thing is: the safest sunny days never belong to the few.

Calm seas and cloudless skies are the golden moments recognized by all the fishermen in the village. A thousand boats set out, ten thousand people cast their nets, the entire sea area becomes unbearably crowded, and the fish in the water have long been divided up by the crowd.

A-Nuo's carefully mended good net, his repeatedly studied tides, his patiently awaited sunny days—in the end, they couldn't bring him a full hold of fish. Cautious for half a lifetime, safe for half a lifetime, preparing for half a lifetime, he exhausted his time polishing his equipment and watching the weather, only to end up catching a few small fish, year after year mediocre, with no progress.

He spent his life avoiding storms, rejecting variables, fearing trial and error, thinking that mending nets was improvement, that watching and waiting was foresight, not realizing:
Excessive caution is the deadliest form of laziness; the ultimate pursuit of safety is the most silent form of sinking. In the end, the net grew old, the years turned to dust, and he gained a lifetime of wasted time.

The sea of Wangchao Village tells the most authentic truth of the human world:
So-called opportune timing and favorable conditions are never something you wait for.
Mending a net a hundred times is not as good as riding the waves once.
Watching quietly for a thousand mornings is not as good as journeying against the wind once.
What kind of life will you choose?