A Rényú-Hunter’s Guide to Playing Go Fish by Adeline Wong

Materials

You will need:

• A standard 52-card playing card deck.
• Two jokers, separated.
• Fishing tackle, assorted. Don’t worry too much about the contents, just make sure you have a nice box. It’s mostly for show, anyway.
• One net, any size.
• Ten days’ rations. If you’re feeling particularly careful, fifteen.
• A boat. It belongs to your parents, technically, but who’s counting?
• 2 – 4 friends.

You will need to realize:

• You don’t have 2 – 4 friends. At least, not 2 – 4 friends who would accompany you on such a precarious endeavor. Pick one, and be glad you’ve got that many.
• There’s only one person you want to do this with anyway.
• Her name is Chloe Zhu.
• In approximately two and a half months, after spring semester is over, the two of you are going to graduate college and leave San Francisco, never to see each other again.
• You cannot decide whether or not you’re desperately in love with her.

Time to Play: Now

Setup

1. Sneak out to your family’s private berth at Marina Bay, shrouded by mist; let the fog settle as a blanket over the water and blot out the horizon. Early morning is best for this, but let’s be honest—this is San Francisco. Midafternoon will probably work just as well.
2. Set sail into the Pacific. Your initial heading will be 309°, to the northwest. It may not seem like it, but this is actually the most direct route to Hong Kong.
   1. Wish you’d paid more attention in high school geography.
   2. Wonder if you’re too far away, if there’s too much distance between you and your ancestors, for it to matter anyway.
   3. Ignore that thought, just like you’ve been doing for the past twenty-one and a half years.
3. Place the fishing tackle in its customary place near the helm. Shuffle the cards.
4. There are only two players here, but deal out three hands anyway. Give each player seven cards.
5. Announce your names to the water. You should go first, since you’re the one responsible for the voyage; to do otherwise would be disrespectful.
6. The syllables of “Jess Yifei” echo out over the water. They last longer than they should.
   1. A moment later, they are followed by your hasty correction of “Jessica.”
7. As if in imitation of you, Chloe says, “Zūk Gwai Fāa,” and a moment later, “Chloe”.
8. You’ve never heard her Cantonese name before, but now is not the time to discuss it. Pick up your hands of cards, and begin play.

Stage One

1. You will drift on the open ocean for hours, perhaps days. The fog will not lift; this is normal.
2. Play Go Fish as usual, but if a player is told to fish, don’t. Instead, play until you know the contents of each others’ hands.
3. Somewhere in the middle, Chloe will collect all four of the eights. You will wonder how low the odds are, to have all four eights dealt in a total of fourteen cards.
   1. “I’m not sure,” Chloe will say. “It’s been forever since I took combinatorics.”
   2. “We took it together, didn’t we?” you’ll ask. “Sophomore year.”
   3. “Oh, yeah. We did.”
4. Sit in silence for a while. You’ll know when to break it.

Stage Two

1. Enter this stage when you feel ready to break the silence. The fog will not have lifted, but the sea will feel brighter somehow. Remember not to touch the third hand of cards.
2. Express your disbelief that Chloe actually agreed to come.
   1. “Well,” Chloe will say, “you promised me mermaids—rényú, whatever. And a spring break with you. How could I have said no?”
   2. “That’s … sweet of you,” you should say, and stare out at the waves lapping up against the boat. It’s easier than looking at her.
   3. “Hey, you’re the one with the fancy fishing gear and the yacht. This is so much cooler than small-boat club.”
3. Resume your earlier silence. Wait until Chloe speaks—the burden of advancing these directions is not always yours.
   1. “So what is a rényú, anyway?” she’ll ask.
   2. Search for the right words. “Uh, it’s kind of this … fish-person-thing?” Fail to find them.
   3. “What?”
   4. Try again.
   5. “Okay, literally, it translates to ‘person-fish’—that’s what Google told me, anyway. My grandfather used to tell us stories about them. They’re a four-legged catfish-like thing. Apparently they scream like babies.”
   6. Chloe will nod. “All right, sure. And why are we trying to catch one?”
4. Pause.
   1. “Well,” you should say, after a moment of thought that lasts far too long, “I mean—my parents always like talking about their rényú. And their parents’ rényú, and their parents’ parents’ rényú. Maybe I just want to see if I could do it, too.”
   2. Inform Chloe that the oil of the rényú is ever-burning. Once lit, it will shed light forever until the bearer snuffs it out. Admit that, yes, maybe it is a metaphor for something.
   3. Watch her purse her lips in consideration, and wonder if the fact that you like watching her means you’re in love with her.
5. Note, in your hand of cards: two fours (clubs and diamonds), the ten of hearts, and the queen of spades.
   1. This isn’t actually important; it’s merely a distraction. A defense mechanism.
6. Allow yourself to be further distracted by the fact that the third hand of cards is floating in the air in front of you.

Stage Three

1. Scream.

Stage Four

1. You can take a few minutes here, but eventually, you’re going to have to get it together.
2. Get it together.
3. Tell yourself, in no uncertain terms, to get it together, possibly with more profanity than necessary.
   1. When Chloe demands, “What the fuck is that?”, offer a weak “I don’t know.”
4. The voice of a crying child will ask you if you have any nines.
5. You don’t have any nines, but you should check anyway.
   1. “Um,” you will say to the crying child. “Go fish?” But of course, it’s not really a crying child.
6. A card will float off the top of the deck to join the rényú’s hand. Now play can begin for real.

Stage Five

Note: Read this next section carefully, as you may not be able to reference it at the time of play. Rényú are not known for being patient creatures.

1. The most important thing to note when playing Go Fish is that it is a matter of life and death.
   1. Yéyé warned you about this. Not in so many words, but his stories were always fraught with flawed protagonists and mortal peril. His talk of the rényú was no different.
2. As the leader of the expedition, you will take the turn after the rényú. Ask Chloe if she has any threes. She will hand you a card; take it, and recall the memory.
3. You will experience it as an interloper, as if you exist outside your own body.
   1. Do not be alarmed. This is a completely normal reaction.

Interlude One – sāam

Time to Play: Minus 3 Years

1. Recall your first meeting with Chloe.
   1. The two of you met halfway through freshman year, two days after the screaming fight that resulted in your ill-timed finals week breakup with Indira.
   2. Assert, even in the privacy of your own mind, that you were not in the campus center at three in the morning because you were wallowing.
   3. Remember the shitty cookie she offered you from the campus center food court. The whole thing was dry and powdery, and the chocolate chips dug into your tongue.
   4. Consider the fact that she was expositing so animatedly about her Calc IV review session that you didn’t even taste it.

Stage Five – Cont.

Note: None of the cards that Chloe asks the rényú for will matter for the purposes of this guide. Rest assured, they are important—every card is important—but this guide is for you. Trust Chloe to have read her own.

4. Return to the present moment.
5. Chloe will ask the rényú if it has any sixes. The rényú will hand her a card, or possibly two. You may not be able to tell.
6. This next part is very important.
7. The rényú will ask you if you have any fours, which you do. However, it is vitally important that you pretend you do not.
8. Tell the rényú to go fish.
   1. No matter how suspicious it acts, do not break.
   2. None of your ancestors broke, after all.
   3. There must be no room in your heart for doubt. If the rényú takes the fours from you, the game will end.
   4. If the game ends, Chloe will leave.
   5. Do not let the game end.
9. After the rényú has fished, ask Chloe if she has any fives. She will hand you two cards.
10. Take them.

Interlude Two – ńg

Time to Play: Minus 2 Years

1. Recall the conversation you had with your therapist the night before your midterm in Social Implications of Robotics.
   1. Continue (even two years later) to wrestle with the idea that you may in some way be afraid of expressing your emotions.
   2. Remember complaining to Chloe that your therapist must be wrong. Remember how she laid her head on your shoulder, pulled your notebook out of your hands, and began, very hesitantly, “Well, maybe—”
   3. Do not think about the grade you got on that exam.

Stage Five – Cont.

Note: As you play, the boat will move deeper into the Pacific. You will not know how to navigate the waters, much less keep the boat on its proper course. Allow the currents to drag you, instead. If you attempt to steer, you will find yourself inexplicably pointed back toward the Americas.

11. The rényú will ask you for fours again. Continue lying to it, but don’t get complacent. Complacency is the killer. Complacency is how it tricks you into saying yes.
12. Ask Chloe if she has any sevens. She will tell you to go fish; do so.
13. You will draw another four.
14. Lock eyes with Chloe, and attempt to convey your distress. She will frown, then set her jaw and return her gaze to her cards—a reminder that you should, too. That you both have this under control.
15. Wonder if this easy communication means you’re in love with her.
16. Once again, do not let the rényú know you have fours when it asks.
    1. “You’re lying!” it will cry, “You must have fours! I know you must!” It will do this in the most pitiful baby’s wail you have ever had the misfortune of hearing.
    2. The sound will rend your soul. You will believe, above all else, that this baby needs fours. That you can help, you alone can help, if only you give in—
    3. You cannot give in.
17. Lie to it.
    1. Lie to the baby, or this all comes crashing down.
18. Ask Chloe if she has any nines. She will.

Interlude Three – gáu

Time to Play: Minus 5 Months

1. Recall your final Thanksgiving of university.
   1. Do not be ashamed of the assignments you feigned to avoid returning home. Your grandparents were undoubtedly grateful that they could talk to everyone in the house without needing an interpreter.
      1. You may, if you’d like, be a little ashamed of lying to Chloe about your reasons for staying.
      2. Chloe most likely did not need the company. Her family, though far away, would never celebrate such an American holiday as Thanksgiving. But remember that you volunteered anyway.
   2. Hear Chloe’s voice as the microwave full of turkey drones in the background: “Anyway, I’m glad you stayed—like, this could be our last chance to do something like this. Who knows where we’ll be next year?”
   3. Feel, now as well as then, the curdling in your chest that bubbled when she spoke. Realize that you don’t want your future to be uncertain. Not where Chloe is concerned.
   4. Recall thinking about a memory from even longer ago: a cousin, whispering in your ear a hurried translation of one of Yéyé’s many stories as Yéyé himself tells it to the room at large. The words are soft in your ear, clear amidst the melodic tones you still can’t understand.
      1. When we finally caught it, we knew the flame would burn forever.
   5. When you go home for Christmas, a month after Thanksgiving, smuggle the spare boathouse key out of your parents’ bedroom.

Stage Five – Cont.

Note: When this is all over, you should keep the key. Your parents don’t even use the boat these days, anyway.

19. “Do you have any queens?” the rényú will ask. You will get halfway through your yes, but you must not complete the word. “I mean, fours?”
20. Tell it no. Keep telling it no. It has resorted to trickery, now—it knows you have been lying.
21. It’s okay. Everyone lies about this; you’re not alone.
22. Ask Chloe if she has any eights. When she tells you to go fish, do so.
23. Draw a four from the top of the deck. You have all of them, now. You can no longer put off what is coming.
    1. Delay for one final moment by taking in, for the first time, the full volume of the rényú’s sobs.
24. Wonder how crying sounds so much like laughter.
25. It’s time. Reveal the set.
26. Listen to the rényú wail.

Stage Six

1. Let Chloe take your hand. It doesn’t matter that she’ll see the cards, not anymore. But keep the fours.
   1. Let her take your hand in the other sense, too.
2. “Liar!” the rényú will screech. “Liar! You’ve tried to trick me!”
3. Do not argue. There isn’t any point, and neither do you have the time to spare. Pick up the net and, while the rényú is distracted, cast it over the empty space behind the floating cards.
4. You will know you’ve entangled the rényú if the wailing stops. If it doesn’t, try again.
   1. Remain calm.
   2. Don’t panic.
   3. Feel Chloe’s heartbeat against your wrist. Allow the rhythm of it to ground you.
      1. Wonder if this means you’re in love with her.
   4. Panic.

Stage Seven

1. The net will crumple to the deck. The rényú will appear before you, floating, baring its hideous catfish eyes and its horribly stumpy legs.
2. It will wail at you, in a terrible voice you’re embarrassed to admit you ever confused for a human baby, “Do you have any fours?”
3. You weren’t prepared for this. No one is ever prepared for this.
   1. No, not even your grandfather.
4. Tell the rényú yes. Hand it the fours.

Interlude(?) Four – sei

Time to Play: ???

This is not a game. This was never a game.

You were always going to lose her.

Stage Eight

1. But you knew that already, didn’t you?
   1. You weren’t prepared for this, but you still knew it was coming.
2. One of you is going to leave. That’s just how this works. One of you is going to leave—
   1. But it doesn’t have to be now.
3. Talk to her, Jess. Before you lose her anyway.

Stage Nine

1. The thing is that no one has ever caught a rényú. The thing is that everyone who’s ever thought they did was deceived, or let themselves be deceived. The thing is that, at some indeterminate point along the way, there was never going to be a rényú left to catch.
2. The creature in your too-small net, flopping around on the unstable deck of your boat, lured to you by your lackluster tackle, is nothing more than an ordinary fish. It cannot continue to harm you.
   1. None of the fish you’ve caught can continue to harm you. You should stop letting them.
3. The most it can do is drip seawater onto your deck of crisp new playing cards.
   1. Lucky we told you to remove the jokers, yes? They’ll stay nice and dry.

Cleanup

1. What you and Chloe do with your fish is your decision. It is, after all, a fish. Its oil will burn in a lamp for some indeterminate amount of time, just like the oil of any other fish. You can choose to light it, or not. Just like the oil of any other fish.
   1. Maybe, if you’re lucky, it would burn long enough to outlast you. But you cannot know for certain.
2. In the meantime, while you’re discussing that, the fog will lift. Collect the soggy playing cards from the deck and dispose of them. Keep one of the jokers, as a memory. Chloe will keep the other.
3. Steer the boat back to shore, consuming the rest of your rations as necessary. Continue to discuss what to do with the fish. Take Chloe’s hand. Marvel at the glint of the sun on the water.
4. It’s very pretty, isn’t it?

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Adeline Wong (she/her) has an enduring sense of wonder and a penchant for hiding stories in places they have no business being found. You can find her deep within the woods, looking up at the stars. (Or on the blogotubes at adelinewongwriting.com).