Immortal Paladin

The goldfish stall was pretty empty today. A lone old man sat behind the counter, leisurely eating tanghulu—candied hawthorn skewers. The sight of him enjoying his snack, completely oblivious to the storm that was about to descend upon him, only fueled my determination.

I had seen something fun today, so I was in a good mood. But that didn’t mean I would forgive the particular old man who had embarrassed me last time. No, today was the day of my glorious revenge match.

After sending Gu Jie on an errand to buy tickets for tomorrow’s event, I wasted no time heading straight to the stall.

I stopped right in front of the goldfish tubs, arms crossed. Let’s see if you can mock me again today, old man.

“Do you remember me, old man?” I asked, my tone brimming with challenge.

The old man tilted his head slightly, chewing on his tanghulu before giving me a lazy glance.

“Oh? Who do we have here?” His lips curled into a knowing smirk. “It’s the sucker.”

I twitched.

“I’ll show you who’s the sucker, old man.”

45 Minutes Later...

I hadn’t caught a single goldfish. Not one.

The old man, now fully reclined in his chair, let out a satisfied sigh as he finished the last of his tanghulu.

“Apparently,” he said, watching me struggle, “the sucker was you.”

I stared at my ruined paper scoop, torn apart by the water and my own desperation. My reflection in the water looked like a man who had seen the depths of defeat.

“Oh, come on.”

The old man leaned back, stretching his arms. “Looks like the suckers were the friends we made along the way.”

I gave him a deadpan stare. “What are you babbling about? Are you on mushrooms or something?”

He simply chuckled, clearly having the time of his life.

Despite my humiliating defeat, I refused to cower. With unwavering determination, I slapped down another coin and picked up a fresh paper scoop.

It was frustrating, yes, but strangely fun. Reliving a childhood I never had—experiencing something as simple as a festival game—felt oddly fulfilling. I had never played a game like this before, and in its own way, the novelty made it worth the loss.

Besides, there was always next time.

The old man watched as I dunked another paper scoop into the water, my brows furrowed in concentration. The flimsy paper strained against the weight of the water as I carefully approached a sluggish goldfish near the edge. This time for sure…

Just as I was about to lift it—rip. The scoop tore apart like wet paper.

“Damn it.”

The old man snorted. “Kid, why don’t you just buy a goldfish? They only cost 30 coppers. You look like a rich young master—surely you can afford it.”

I clicked my tongue and gave him a side-eye. “It’s not about the prize. It’s about the journey.” I made a sweeping gesture, as if explaining something profound. “The satisfaction of earning it with my own skills.”

In reality, I was bullshitting. There was no way I’d admit that I just sucked at this game.

The old man faked a cough, covering his mouth with his fist. “Heh. So, you’re just stubborn.”

I shot him a look. He met my gaze with a knowing smirk, as if he saw right through me. Honestly, this old man was too suspicious. If it weren’t for the fact that he was the only one running a goldfish stall here—and that this was the only arcade game I hadn’t beaten yet—I wouldn’t have bothered coming back.

I exhaled, trying to shake off my frustration. Focusing on the water again, I dipped another paper scoop into the tub. This time, I ignored the bigger, faster goldfish and targeted the smallest, slowest one.

My scoop slid under its belly. I lifted it carefully, my breath hitching as the paper held. No way. No way. No way—

The goldfish wriggled, but I kept my hand steady. It was still on the scoop.

A second passed.

Then another.

And then—

“HAH~! HAHAHAHA~~!” I shot up from my seat, my victorious laughter booming across the empty stall. “SUCK IT, OLD MAN!”

The old man simply chuckled. “Took you long enough, sucker.”

The moment of victory lasted exactly two seconds.

Because in my excitement, I moved too suddenly—too recklessly.

RIP.

The paper scoop tore apart.

The goldfish, my hard-earned prize, flopped back into the water with a tiny splash.

I stared.

“No. No. NOOOO~! FISHY!”

The old man clutched his stomach and cackled. “HA! KEKEKE~! KAKAKAKA~! A sucker to the end!”

I turned to glare at him, my jaw clenched. This damn old man. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was actually a demon sent here to test my patience.

Without another word, I slammed another set of coppers onto the counter and grabbed a fresh paper scoop. Alright. Focus. Breathe. One more time.

I calmed my heart like a fasting priest. No unnecessary movements. No sudden outbursts.

Slowly, I dipped the scoop into the water, eyes locked onto my target. I maneuvered under the smallest goldfish again, lifting it with the delicate precision of a master surgeon. The paper held. The goldfish wobbled, but I kept my hand steady.

Three seconds passed. Then four. Alright, good. No sudden movements this time.

I gently transferred the fish into the old man’s waiting hands. He hummed in amusement but didn’t tease me this time. With practiced ease, he placed my hard-earned prize into a small glass bowl filled with water.

“There,” he said, pushing the bowl toward me. “A goldfish, won fair and square.”

I exhaled, finally allowing myself to relax. It’s done. The demon has been defeated.

“…Worth it.”

I peered into the small glass bowl, watching my hard-earned goldfish swim in slow, lazy circles. Victory felt so much sweeter after suffering repeated, humiliating defeats.

Now, there was just one problem.

“So… what do I feed the goldfish?”

The old man shrugged. “I don’t know.”

I blinked. “What?”

“How would I know?”

“…You own the stall.”

He scratched his chin, looking genuinely confused. “And?”

“What do you mean and? You’re literally running a goldfish stall! You sell them to people! How do you not know what they eat?”

The old man thought about it for a second, then nodded sagely. “I don’t know.”

I stared at him.

This. This was the guy I lost to.

“What kind of response even is that?” I demanded. “Isn’t this basic knowledge for you?”

The old man clicked his tongue. “You’re askin’ the wrong questions, kid.”

“…Enlighten me, then.”

He jabbed a finger at the goldfish. “It’s a girl.”

I squinted at him. “The fuck? You can tell me her gender but not what she eats?”

The old man crossed his arms, pleased with himself. “That’s right.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. What can you tell me?”

“Just feed it protein so it grows strong. Pork, maybe?”

I nearly choked. “Pork?!”

“Yeah. Meat’s good for growth. You want a strong fish, don’t you?”

I looked at him. Then I looked at the tiny, fragile creature swimming in my bowl.

“…Even I know how wrong that advice is.”

The old man shrugged again. “Hey, don’t listen to me. I’m just a humble goldfish salesman.”

I desperately wanted to ask him how he even got this job, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t like the answer.

“Maybe beef sounds better,” the old man mused, rubbing his chin. “I don’t know. I am craving beef.”

“Not helping, old man.”

I sighed, shifting my attention back to my goldfish. She swam in slow, looping circles, her delicate fins fluttering like silk ribbons underwater. The golden-orange of her scales shimmered under the lantern light, accentuated by streaks of white that lined the tips of her tail. Her round, beady eyes carried the same kind of innocence as a clueless baby animal.

How could something so small and simple look so damn happy?

I smiled to myself before turning back to the old man. “You know what? How about you make yourself useful and help me name her?”

The old man raised a bushy brow. “Really? Like… seriously?”

“I don’t mind. I suck at giving names.”

Without hesitation, the old man declared, “Ren Jingyi.”

“Whoa~ that’s fast.”

“The character Ren for ‘person’ and Jingyi for ‘respectable.’”

“A respectable person, huh?” I chuckled. “I like it. Imagine a goldfish being a more respectable person than a real person.”

I leaned down, peering at the tiny creature in her bowl. “Do you like it, Ren Jingyi? Jingy’er? Little Goldie?”

She swam in another cheerful loop, her little fins flapping in delight.

I grinned, but after a moment, my excitement dimmed. As happy as she looked, the small glass bowl felt… lacking. If I was going to keep her, I needed to do it right.

“I should find a place that sells a bigger bowl,” I muttered to myself. “Maybe add some sand… a few greens… something to make it more interesting for her.”

The old man gave me a sideways glance before smirking. “What’s this? Planning to build a palace for your little fish?”

“Of course,” I said, nodding seriously. “She’s Ren Jingyi, after all. A respectable fish deserves a respectable home.”