Years passed since Water Goddess Lang punished coastal Hong Wei with a disastrous tsunami because a thief stole a precious artifact. Fong, Lang’s most devoted disciple, was a master fisherman who sat in morning prayer, seeking a successful journey. Every afternoon, he returned to the village with the most fortuitous catch. Fong instinctively attributed his success to Lang, his faith stronger than any fishing net.

Fong’s father passed before his birth, and his mother died in childbirth. His only companion was his frail grandmother, who taught him every nook and cranny of life. He understood all her teachings except compassion. As she aged, Fong’s grandmother dreaded what awaited Fong. Drawing her final breaths, she whispered, “Fong, you must avoid your grandfather’s fate. His greed caused the demise of our village .” She pointed to the dresser: “Read … the diary in … the top drawer…”As he reached to caress her, her hands dropped. She was gone. Sobbing, Fong lamented that the only person who cared for him was gone.

Fong reached for the diary as if it was his grandmother’s last breath. He rummanged through the cabinet until he found a dusty leather-worn and water torn diary.

February 3rd, 1754: 

Inside the cave was a withered statue of a fish with a small ring on its left eyelid. No giant mountain of treasure. On the pedestal is a group of characters, the only one which I could read was “mercy”. Well, if the gods are merciful, I’ll be able to sell this for 5,000 pounds.

The ancient ink on the rest of the pages was undecipherable. Fong fell into an exhausted slumber, ruminating on his grandfather’s journal.

Days later, Fong walked through the market square and overheard chatter about a fishing competition. The prize? A gold ring rumored to have been stolen from the gods. Interest piqued by gossip, Fong skipped and jogged home out of pure excitement. “If sold to the right merchant, I’ll never have to work again”, Fong thought. 

Dark clouds burst into a torrential downpour. People scrambled for shelter under trees and doorways. Alone in the rain, fantasizing about what he would do with the prize; “5,000 Pounds… I’ve heard of people buying priceless artifacts for that much… I’d never have to work again!” 

Explosively loud cracks of thunder and whips of lightning cradled Fong to sleep. He dreamt of a gargantuan tuna fish with a long face, but focused on the large gold ring attached to its left eyelid. As Fong reached to touch it, the fish swerved and swam back into the forever darkness. 

At the fishing competition, Fong noticed formidable competitors. Nevertheless, he was calm like a monk. “The omen was a good one,” he thought.

Boooonnnnggggggg.

The mayor rang the market square bell, signalling eight hours to catch their fish.

A well known elder fisherman sat next to Fong. While waiting for a bite, the young boy saw his competitor’s hook shake. As he turned his head back to focus on his own hook, which also got a bite, he heard the man yell, “Arg! It was a small guppy” and he threw it back into the water. Fong jerked the fishing rod once and started reeling vigorously. The entire dock started shaking.

“Oh Goddess Lang, this fish is so strong!” thought Fong as he gritted his teeth together while using his whole body to reel. His arms burned and his legs froze. Fong was tempted to ask his competitor for help.

Finally, Fong saw it: the long head of his silver-skinned foe. His cheeks burned red. “Somethings wrong…” he said to himself. He felt the rod slipping away. Out of nowhere, the fish swerved, showing its large, shiny body, and started diving back, without leaving a single ripple in the water.

Intuitively, he grabbed his fishing spear and dove into the water, following his fishing rod that was still attached to the fish’s upper lip. Fong swam deeper as the fish dove, so he knew he had to jab the fish. Realizing he needed air, he threw the spear. His mind was slowly turning blank. He heard a blurry thump and stopped moving.

Fong swam a little to see if the fish had been hit.

No response. 

He knew he had won this battle, but the real war was re-surfacing. Noticing his exhaustion, Fong used long kicks to reach the surface, but the load he was carrying was too heavy.

Just as his eyes closed, he felt something grab onto his free arm and everything else was a blur.

Despite being unable to see, sense, or hear reality, Fong could still make out the image of a large carp. “Return … the stolen ring…”

Fong opened his eyes and noticed he reached the shore. He shuffled his limbs around a little more, only to realize that his left hand was clenching the tool that molded his life.   

Fong lifted his torso and moved into a squatting position. At the end of his fishing line was a large tuna, almost half the size of his fishing kayak. 

As the sun set, Fong splashed some seawater onto the fish to clean the sand and seaweed off of it. It was the heaviest fish he had ever held. 

Fong was hailed the winner, with a fish that was twice the size and triple the weight of the runner-up. Feeling like a victor, he traded the fish for the ring in front of dozens of spectators. “I did this all by myself, and now I … ” he stopped in the middle of his thoughts. His brain dove back into the diary and his thoughts began to cloud up. “The thing in the diary… it was also stolen, but …”

Fong waved goodbye with the ring on his index finger. It was a one-day journey back to his home and the sun had set. As he slumbered, Fong received another vision, but this time, he could not clearly see the body of the speaker. “Return the ring and forgiveness shall be bestowed upon your bloodline.” The sweet and loving voice turned crisp and harsh.

Fong woke up to the chirping birds and crashing waves, dismissing the dream as exhaustion. He couldn’t stop thinking about his life after selling his ring.

As the village gates began to appear, Fong saw foreign ships anchored in the harbor since it was one of the days of the month were European traders came and bought spices and restocked supplies. 

Fong walked around looking for a merchant willing to buy his ring. A man with a gold monocle inspecting spices caught the young boy’s attention. Fong let him know he had an artifact, broken English, and asked for his business. “Hm, Yes, allow me to have a look. … It sure looks like real gold and the blue sapphires engraved onto it are really beautiful details. I’ll give sixty-five hundred Pounds for this. What do you say, young lad?”

“165 pounds? No way that’s too low…” stuttered Fong in shock.

“No. 65 hundred.  6-5-0-0.” The merchant picked up a stick and sketched 6-5-0-0 onto the ground.

“Deal!”

As the English merchant counted his coins and Fong removed the ring, it started to fade; gold turned bronze and bronze turned gray. Gray turned black and black turned ash.

“What is the meaning of this?!?” The merchant snatched back the bag of coins in anger and smacked Fong in the head with it. “You’re a thief. I should burn your entire village but I don’t have time.” 

Too stunned to cry, Fong lay motionless. At home, Fong slouched into his bed and started crying, releasing his physical and mental anguish. Fong lamented having not listened to his grandmother.

Fong gazed towards the desk that contained his grandfather’s journal. He saw the large fish that had been appearing in dreams. Now, there were two rings on the lower eyelid. Fong stared at the fish with confusion. The fish stared back emotionless.

“I am the goddess Lang. I appear in this form to move freely in the world of mortals. Your family has stolen from me too many times. Now, you pay the price.” Fong couldn’t escape her presence.

“Because I’m merciful, I’ll allow you to choose your fate: Life or Live. Choose now.”

“L-live!” exclaimed Fong. “Please, I’m sorry I took your ring! I just - ”

Fong felt his hands sizzle and watched them merge into each other like heated silver. As he screamed in pain, he found himself underwater. Without the use of his hands, he kicked to the shore, but couldn’t wipe the sand off his face.

Through his tears, Fong felt the uselessness of regret. His exasperated breaths grew heavier as he fell on his face. His strength waned. He looked one last time to the sunset’s golden rays. He noticed three fledgelings fly out of a nearby nest, while the fourth one plunged into the ground, clinging to life. They closed their eyes together, one last time.