This enormous catfish, weakened by the spicy water pepper juice and by my precisely predicted strike, only flipped a few times on the surface before meeting its demise in the Northwest.

If all goes as expected, this big catfish will also become a dish on my menu. I'm carrying this big catfish in my hand, and around my neck hangs a whole bunch of small fish, each weighing about one or two ounces.

Now I feel like a wild man returning home with a full load of food. The joy and satisfaction that comes from men tens of thousands of years ago is etched into their bones and cannot be measured by wages earned in the city.

For a moment, I felt as if I had been brought back to life.

It's still early; the total time spent chasing that big catfish should be only about an hour. If you have a watch, it should be around 1 p.m. now.

I still haven't started the fire, so I've decided to hurry up and get it going to avoid a chaotic mess like yesterday.

I put the fish in a small puddle, and by then many of them had come to their senses and were able to swim.

I went to check on the pine resin that had been drying in the sun for more than three hours. When I opened the shell, the pine resin inside lived up to expectations and fell perfectly onto the blades of the water pipe below.

I picked up this raised resin piece. Because of the smooth nacre layer from the oyster shell, the raised surface felt delicate and smooth to the touch, almost like a mirror.

As for its back side, it's in a worse state. It's still like a cratered lunar surface, not even flat, and the middle is soft enough to be pressed down with your hand.

However, this was within my expectations. After all, it was already quite good that it could be successfully demolded in such a short time. I didn't expect it to become a complete work of art.

If it were a childhood toy, it would obviously have won the favor of most children. However, as a tool for starting fires, its development has only just begun.

I carefully felt the sturdiness of the smooth, convex surface. Fortunately, the three hours in the sun hadn't been wasted. It seemed fine to begin with and should withstand my next steps of processing.

I took out a sharp stone that I had broken that morning and used it as a carving knife. First, I removed the resin from the very center, which was still as soft as maltose.

Next, carefully expand the area of ​​the concave surface outwards from the center where it has already been removed, making it a convex lens that is thicker in the middle and thinner at the edges.

The resin is very brittle, so I was extremely careful. I didn't even dare to wipe away the sweat that got into my eyes, for fear that the slightest mistake would render all my efforts futile.

After painstakingly removing all the soft resin and shaping the edges into a bowl-shaped concave surface, the basic form of the lens was complete, but it was still too early to achieve light transmission.

So I took this precious resin lens and roughly went to the stream. I added some appropriately coarse river sand to the concave bowl, and then added some water.

This mixture of water and sand is the simplest surface polisher, and some factories use this method to polish jade or metal components.

However, I don't have those sophisticated machines with high vibration frequencies; I only have two hands, and what kind of finished product I can make is entirely up to fate.

I carefully held the edge of the resin lens and began to shake it clockwise like panning for gold, stirring the sand inside. The sand began to rotate in circles, constantly washing away the rough scratches inside the resin.

There are no machines to do this, so it really tests a person's patience. Luckily, I had my willow branch sun-protective clothing as a base, otherwise, shaking it for one or two hours would be something most people couldn't handle.

After two hours of rinsing, I could clearly feel the sand becoming less and less resistant inside, and eventually it slid in almost a silky smooth surface.

I felt it was about time, so I emptied the sand out and rinsed it in water. The sand made it much smoother, and a seamless lens appeared before my eyes.

I know that even fine sand can only achieve a frosted effect; it can never allow light to pass through completely like a real lens.

However, I am already very satisfied with having done this much. I am 90% confident that I can get the fire going.

The problem of opacity is easily solved by using a simple physics principle. When a piece of frosted glass comes into contact with water, water molecules fill its diffused frosted surface, temporarily making it transparent and allowing you to see the scene on the other side.

Now my convex surface has achieved an impeccable mirror effect. Next, all I need to do is fill the concave surface with water, and the power of nature will transform it into a true Fresnel lens!

My heart was pounding violently as I poured water into the concave area, filling it two-thirds full. Looking down from above, I could clearly see my fingers magnified to twice their normal size!

The joy I feel is indescribable. This is the first precision tool I have ever made using my own ingenuity over several hours, and it's even a lens for starting a fire.

I couldn't wait to bring over some hay and dried mugwort and place them under the lens. After adjusting the angle of the homemade lens, the sunlight was focused into a beam of white light.

I aimed the white dot at the dried mugwort floss, and soon wisps of blue smoke rose from it. I continued to focus the sunlight while blowing air towards the red sparks.

With some human effort to fan the flames, the smoke gradually thickened. The next second, a flame suddenly ignited the tinder in my hand.

The joy I felt at that moment was indescribable. I was so moved by the flickering flames that I almost cried.

I kiss the earth, for it is its selflessness that has nurtured so many wondrous creatures. If even one thing were missing, I certainly wouldn't be able to light this fire today.

After adding a few handfuls of dry branches that I had collected beforehand, the fire quickly grew into a blazing blaze. Looking at this hard-won campfire, what could be more exhilarating for someone who had arrived in a strange wilderness, facing a cluster of flickering fires?

The sun was about to set, and with an hour or two left in the sunlight, I added a few dry, thick logs to the fire and then went to search the surrounding area again.

I brought back some of the same wild fruits as yesterday, but there weren't many left. I also brought back some firethorn berries, which we call "lifesaving food" because they are a good source of vitamin C.

What surprised me even more was that on the way back, I actually found some wild onions. These wild onions are very fragrant, and they would definitely be a great addition to my fish!

After I cleaned and gutted the fish with stones, I stuffed knotted wild scallions into its belly, just like the scallions used in hot pot duck, except that I can only use fish for this dish right now.