Two days later.
The boat pitched violently as a four-metre wave slammed against it. As soon as the water slammed against the bow, it sent a jet spray of ice water against Han Ruochen and Tong Zhaodi's faces. The open ocean past the four-mile marker had turned into an abyss of churning ink. With waves rising and falling, their boat was tossing around like a little ping-pong ball.
"Sister Ruochen, are you crazy? Were you really going to come here on your own?" Tong Zhaodi screamed as she wrapped her arms around the pole outside the cabin. "This is not a trip to hunt fish but a suicide run. With such deep currents, even the fish must have gone to the deep sea to escape the pressure. There is no point in fishing here. Fishing here is nothing but a death warrant!"
