When the River Glowed at Midnight

Moonbeams danced on the Fox River's surface as my waders whispered through knee-deep water. I'd promised myself this would be the last cast - the 夜光软饵 glowed like alien bait in the darkness, its chartreuse tail disappearing into the obsidian current for the twentieth time.

'Just one more,' I muttered, feeling the carbon fiber rod twitch in my cold hands. The lie tasted familiar. Below me, smallmouth bass shadows rippled across moonlit sandbars, teasing like spectral dancers.

My wrist froze mid-cast when twin splashes erupted downstream. Bat rays? Too far north. Musky? Heart pounding, I fumbled for my 头灯, the beam catching silver scales breaching in perfect unison. Walleye! They were chasing my lure's glowing twin.

The strike came as moonlight vanished behind clouds. Line screamed off the reel, burning my index finger as I braced against current. 'Not the snag zone,' I pleaded, tasting river mist with each head shake. When the 24-incher finally surfaced, its golden eye reflected the reemerging moon - and my stupid grin.

Walking back past sleeping farmhouses, I chuckled at the fireflies blinking around my tackle box. The river keeps its best secrets between midnight and dawn.