"Take it, this is the custom." Susan of course didn't stand on ceremony, she picked out a few, but it wasn't for free; she still paid for them.
But at this moment, a very strange phenomenon appeared.
The fishermen who had just been bragging nonstop were now busy talking down their own catch.
"There's a lot of seaweed tied on this one, it's actually not that heavy."
"Mine's not that fresh anymore, make it cheaper."
"This one's too small, not worth much."
Such a scene was really contradictory from front to back, almost absurd, but it had its own special reason.
Offering up one's catch wasn't anything new—in the past, when they came back after all that effort fishing, they'd be squeezed dry in all sorts of ways.
If you caught something good, you'd better pray no one noticed, otherwise someone would definitely come looking for you, but there was no way you'd see a single coin. The lord taking something from you was him doing you an honor.
