Amelia Wright sat back down.
This time she didn't rush to start, quietly waiting until an elderly person next to her caught a fish.
She watched the other person's actions carefully, observing how the thin fishing line, like a strand of silk, was managed without haste as the fish struggled, until the fish in the water tired, and the elder slowly reeled it in.
Holding up the fish, the elder laughed heartily: "Haha, looks like I'm the first to catch one today. Not bad, right? At least five pounds!"
"Alright, alright, don't get so cocky, keep it down."
"What's there to be proud of, it's just one fish, the real winner laughs last."
Several seniors snorted dismissively, all keeping their eyes on the water, unwilling to admit defeat.
Amelia Wright watched closely, roughly understanding how to reel in the rod.
She felt like the fish on the hook, painfully struggling, but unable to escape destiny and resentment no matter how hard she tried.
