Our family has always been in the business of selling fish. The older generations mostly made a living by selling fish. Of course, someone as useless as me can only inherit the job of slaughtering fish from the previous generation.

Whether it was my grandfather or my father, they always told me that every profession has its own rules, and we fish slaughters have our own set of rules as well.

When I first took over this job, I curiously asked my grandfather about it.

My grandfather told me in a mysterious and cautious manner, repeatedly emphasizing:

"Fish slaughters don't kill tear-shedding fish. Don't kill wailing baby fish. If a fish meets both criteria, it must be set free."

What kind of rule is this? I scoffed and joked:

"Grandpa, have you been reading too many mythological stories? Where can you find fish that shed tears or fish that cry like a baby? If I ever encounter such fish, then I'll believe in ghosts and gods."

I was already an atheist, and I never encountered the fish my grandfather mentioned.

"Boy, don't take what grandpa said as a joke. There will be serious consequences if you kill them," my grandfather earnestly warned me once again. I could only reassure him half-heartedly.

"Alright, alright, I got it."

Seeing that I agreed, my grandfather finally stopped talking about it.

Later, my father mentioned it several times as well, but I simply ignored it as if I hadn't heard anything. I didn't pay much attention to it.

Gradually, my father grew older, and the responsibility of slaughtering fish fell entirely on my shoulders.

Although I didn't become rich and prosperous, I had more than enough to support my family. Sometimes, I would leisurely sit by the stall and play Mahjong with the owners of braised food stalls and supermarkets around me. Life was quite comfortable.

In the end, I completely forgot about what my father and grandfather had told me.

That day, as usual, I sat in front of the stall, welcoming customers and selling fish.

A sturdy man with a large gold chain around his neck, carrying a black leather bag under his armpit and a cigarette in his mouth, approached me.

He simply threw a bag onto the cutting board where I slaughtered fish.

The water in the bag gushed out with a splash. In just two seconds, the water in the bag was gone.

I only saw a fish jumping incessantly inside the bag. It was quite big, easily weighing ten kilograms.

The man blew out a smoke ring before speaking slowly.

"Kill it for me."

I rolled my eyes inwardly. He didn't even buy the fish from me, yet he wanted me to slaughter it. He must not have woken up properly in broad daylight. It was a daydream.

Still, I smiled and explained to him:

"Brother, doing business is not easy. Look..."