The yacht sailed on the water, and the fishing machine was like its big tail, following slowly behind.
It was noon, and the temperature was just right as it was autumn. The lake was covered with water vapor; one felt exceptionally comfortable when the autumn breeze blew the vapor around and it brushed softly around them.
The seats of the fishing machine were broad and big. They could be pulled to be made into recliners.
Hans pulled his seat to make it into a recliner and laid on it lazily. "D*mn, this feels so good!" he exclaimed. "I'm going to buy some beer and stay here all afternoon."
The treasure hunters on the yacht were dissatisfied. "Big Li, will you both hurry up? Do we take turns to have a go at the fishing machine? D*mn, I'm going to be squeezed into a sandwich!"
Dickens laughed in a teasing manner. "Thomson, pal, blame yourself for being so fat. If you were like me, you'd definitely feel better."
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