No one can tell a complete river in one article, just as no one can see a complete river. When we stand on the edge of a big river, we can only see a small part of this big river forever, but we can still sigh with passion, ah! This is the Yangtze River! Ah, this is the Yellow River! Ah, this is...... Yes, what I am going to write about now is a big river that once suddenly appeared in front of me: the Lancang River.
That was the first time I had seen this river, which seemed to exist only in legends. At that time, I was an undergraduate, and when I returned to my hometown during the summer vacation, I took a forty or fifty-hour train ride from Shanghai to Kunming, and then a seven or eight hour bus ride back to Shidian. The day bus I took that time arrived in Baoshan at dusk. The dusk sunlight penetrates through the window, and the water waves flow like waves, making the people and objects in the sleeper car seem real and illusory. However, the smell of sweat, fox odor, foot odor, and bad breath are mixed, which makes people faint when they breathe, and suffocate if they don't breathe. I was lying on the last upper bunk of the carriage, not sleeping, not waking up, at this time, I heard someone shouting in front of me: Lancang River! Hurriedly raised his body and looked out, through the glass window, a colorful cliff wall, red, purple, yellow, bright colors, like a long palette, lying under the green mountains on the opposite side. Further down, a murky river meanders and flows. It's just that it's far away, and through the glass, you can't hear the sound of the waves of the river. But this glimpse alone was enough to save me from the filth of reality, and I exhaled a big breath, as if the air around me was cleared by this great river.
My first impression was that the Lancang River was as its name suggested, colorful, vicissitudes, gentle and long.
Many years later, goodbye to the Lancang River, it is still almost the same season.
At that time, my understanding of Baoshan was much deeper than before. For example, I know that "the rolling Yangtze River is passing away, and the waves are sweeping away the heroes", this sentence that has been sung repeatedly has a lot to do with Baoshan.
Some people have verified that this "Linjiang Immortal" was written by Yang Shen when he passed through Jiangling, Hubei Province on the way to distribution. However, some local literati in Baoshan believe that this poem should be written in the Zhuangyuan Building at the foot of Taibao Mountain. The so-called champion building, naturally, is the name of later generations, specifically to commemorate the champion Yang Shen. Yang Shen lived in this inconspicuous small building for 36 years, which took up most of his life. In the autumn of the third year of Jiajing (1524), the thirty-six-year-old Yang Shen went through three court canes, left relatives and friends, was driven by the errands, set out from the capital, went south along the Grand Canal, traced the Yangtze River to the west, to Jiangling, entered Guizhou, and in February of the following year, entered Yunnan from Pu'an, Guizhou. After arriving in Kunming, Yang Shen's body of the staff of the wound has not healed, after a short stay, through Anning, Chuxiong, all the way to the west, to Dali Yongping, and then into Baoshan (then called Yongchang). It's hard to imagine that with the traffic of that era, wearing shackles and locks, and traveling thousands of miles, how dusty and hard it was, it was "the cool breeze of Shangqiu, blowing me out of Beijing." The ochre clothes are wrapped in the sick body, and the red dust covers the car" (Yang Shen's "Grace and Dispatch to Yunnan").
Entering Baoshan from Dali, Yang Shen's first stop was the Jihong Bridge on the Lancang River.
Five hundred years later, on the last day of August 2019, I traveled from Shidian to Pingpo Village, Wayao Town, Longyang District. A large bell hangs under a luxuriant big-leaved banyan tree in the village square, and the inscription is read, which was cast in March of the fifth year of Qianlong. After the meal, walk down the Yongchang Ancient Road of the Southern Silk Road, and under your feet is a stone road with deep hoof prints. About half an hour later, I came to a large river, and a huge cliff carved stone appeared on the riverbank. I know that this is a replica, because of the construction of the Xiaowan power station, the real cliff carvings have sunk under the surging river. Li Guangbiao, the secretary of Banpo Village, who has been with us, said that when he was a child, he often went to play with the cliff carvings, and there were replicas that were five times the size. Everyone felt a pity, but there was nothing to be done. There is a ropeway above our heads, but it is not running, and how to fly from one shore to the other can only be purely imagined. Take a walk on the Jihong Bridge - oh, after 500 years of wind and rain, the old bridge is long gone, this bridge is newly built - it only takes a few minutes to walk from Baoshan to Dali. Walking on the bridge, there is a big car coming on, the bridge shakes violently, as if it is about to collapse, and there is a small car heading on, and the passengers on the car walk down, holding the bridge railing carefully. Suddenly, a pile of wooden planks fell from the sky, swept a few feet away, fell into the center of the river, scattered, and made a huge popping sound. Looking down at the railing, the river is far-reaching and dizzying. These planks are supposed to come from the Tai Zhu Shan Tunnel Project not far overhead. Li Zhishu said that several people in this engineering team have died. Later, I saw CCTV news, and an engineer told the story of the construction of this tunnel for more than ten years with tears in his eyes, and I couldn't help but be moved. Thinking back to ancient times, it would be more difficult for people to build Jihong Bridges on both sides of the river, right?
Think back then, when Yang Shen saddled his horse and tired, with a weak body and a heart that was beating hard, he didn't know how he felt in his heart? When he wrote at the foot of Taibao Mountain, "The rolling Yangtze River is passing away, and the waves are sweeping away the heroes", it must be not only the Yangtze River that is churning in his heart, but also the Lancang River that welcomes the second half of his life.
Five hundred years later, I stepped on the new Jihong Bridge, walked from Baoshan to Dali, and then walked back to Baoshan from Dali, and then went down from the cliff by the bridge to the river to get on the boat, sat in the front seat, and went all the way upstream. The river water was rust-colored, the water splashed, and I drank two handfuls, but unexpectedly did not taste the smell of mud and sand, and the children behind me also shouted to drink when they saw it. On the west bank, there are green hills, and houses can be seen from time to time, and on the east bank, I have only seen a deserted village on the hillside, but from time to time I see black goats grazing on the steep slopes, and I also saw five or six monkeys, and they must have seen us too, and one of the monkeys ran uphill as if he was showing off, and climbed a thin and tall dead tree, and the branches were shaking, and the monkey fell? I didn't see it, the ship had already sailed. The boat sailed all the way to Wayao Wharf. There is a meadow here, and between the meadow and the river is a pleasure boat, which is empty, as if waiting for tourists. We climbed up to have a look, then came down, turned to the old camp, and ate donkey meat.
Sitting in the afternoon car, as if still sitting on the boat, the green mountains on both sides of the river, accelerated retreat, and disappeared into the halo of dusk. A small part of the water of the Lancang River ripples in my body.
Then to the Lancang River, it was the beginning of November last year. Not to go to the Lancang River, but to go to the Taoist Mountain. To go to Daoren Mountain, you must first drive to the tile kiln. We plan to spend the night at Wayao Pier, singing, eating barbecue, and staying in tents. Maybe there is starlight in the sky, the starlight is reflected in the river, the sky and the earth, the starlight is brilliant. It's beautiful enough to think about.
We drove from Baoshan City, and several cars came to Wayao Town one after another to converge, and then drove all the way down to the Lancang River. We parked in front of a restaurant on the side of the road. The restaurant is built in the middle of the hillside, and I heard that there is only one dish, yellow stewed chicken. On the way here, I listened to Brother Lei talk about how authentic the yellow stewed chicken in this house is. Before that, I had heard many times about the yellow stewed chicken in the tile kiln, which was as famous as the donkey meat in the old camp. Gearing up, thinking that tonight we can finally have a good meal.
I ordered food, and I didn't want to wait. I turned the corner and headed for the river. All the way downhill, soon came to the familiar meadow by the river. The boat I saw the year before last is gone, maybe it's floating on the river? The river was still as muddy as it had been last seen, flowing slowly, without waves, without sound. The green hills on the other side are silent, and there are many green plants on this shore that I can't name. Not far away, a few young people were barbecuing on the lawn by the river, almost touching the water, and nearby, a dozen cows and horses were grazing and walking around with their heads bowed. The sunlight is like gold, shining on the surface of the river one by one. The surface of the Maroon River, as well as the Qingdai Mountains on the opposite side, were shrouded in a layer of bright mist. This canyon, like a giant funnel, filters time and something I can't tell.
Many times, words are powerless, such as when they are not.
Back at the restaurant, the dish was not ready. Set up tables and chairs in the small courtyard, play cards, drink, look at the kitchen from time to time, and look at the Lancang River from time to time. The river is unusually quiet. Occasionally, a large truck passes by on the road in front of me. By the time a large plate of braised chicken was served, we had already drunk almost a bottle of white wine. Take a piece of chicken into your mouth and chew it carefully, it's so fragrant, I've never eaten such fragrant chicken. What's more, as long as you look up, the Lancang River is flowing there. The flow of the river in the dusk seems to enhance the taste of chicken.
After being full of wine and food, and then going to the riverside, the squandering of the sunset on the river surface became more and more wasteful.
The young men had withdrawn, and the cattle and horses seemed to have changed, and some of them, driven by middle-aged and elderly men or young boys, came from the distant hillside, descended to the ditch, and climbed up the hillside, and followed the way we came, to the village on the hillside. After many days, I can't remember how these people were dressed at the time, but I remember a sleepwalking look on their faces. It is as if this canyon, this mountain, this river, and this grassy slope are all in a dream. A sweet dream of stillness. The cow and horse snorted as they passed, and their thick bodies staggered the bushes, and the smell of livestock rushed into their nostrils, shattering the dream.
I came out of my dream and leaned over the ground looking for a dead grass. Above the general greenery, the withering of this grass is unusually striking. As long as you hold the roots, gently pluck, hear a crisp sound, and there will be an extra bunch of firewood in your hand. Of course, this firewood is not enough for tonight, so it can only be used as a material for starting a fire, and the real effort has to be the chopping wood prepared in advance. A short time later, on the grassy slope, a bonfire was lit.
To set off the fire, it got dark.
I have a friend who prepares a stereo and charges it. Everyone started singing, but I couldn't sing, so I had to have a barbecue and drink at the same time. By the way, the beer is prepared in advance, the barbecue grill is also prepared in advance, and the pork belly, beef, and chicken used for barbecue are also prepared in advance. I like the flames that burst out of the chopping wood, this plant body that has long lost its life and has gritted its teeth all its life without making a sound, at this moment, makes a sound of crying, complaining, and singing. On the barbecue, covered with marinated meat, soon, the murmur of fat is heard, squeaky and aroma floating.
Gradually, the singers stood up, and the singing voice floated overhead.
I sat on the grass, leaned back slowly, and lay down. The grass withered and green coexisted, and I didn't know what was sticking to my back, bringing a slight tingle, and I was sure that this was still the world. Every now and then, for a moment, I felt the firelight become distant, the singing voice distant, and the faces of the people who were flushed by the firelight distant. When all this is far away, I suddenly feel that the starry sky overhead, the green mountains around me, and the flowing river have become closer, they are clear, calm, eternal, endless. Me and them, gazing at each other, subordinate to each other.
But suddenly I was far away, surrounded by the smell of meat, the singing and the solid ground beneath me, and smiling faces immersed in joy. I'm back in the world.
Someone came on a motorcycle from the direction of the village, and when he got closer, it was a stocky young man in his twenties. The young man said, "There are old people in the village who say, it's too late, you sing too loudly, can you make a little quieter?" We hurriedly agreed. In fact, this young man didn't come, and the stereo was out of power. Because of his appearance, we suddenly realized that in this lonely night, the sound can be transmitted to the distant cottage. Presumably, in the deep mountains and rivers near the left, there are echoes of singing. Suddenly it was quiet, and my ears were a little unaccustomed, like an empty two-hole cave on a cliff waiting to be visited. In this void, many of the voices that had just been drowned out by singing regrew, the shouts of fire, the creaking of roasting meat, and the innumerable chirping of insects as small as the tip of a needle...... We left the young man to sit with us for a while, and he really stayed, and helped with the barbecue very seriously, but he refused to eat a little, saying that he had already eaten. Everyone's voices became softer, and even their movements became sluggish, as if they were tired and satisfied after a long journey.
When I heard the sound of the river, it was as if I saw a smooth silk cloth, shimmering with trivial silver light in the dark night, gliding through the bare meadow shrouded in mist.
At this moment, is there fog? Can't remember.
But I clearly feel that the wind is blowing. The wind blows from the surface of the river, carrying cold water vapor. They were all a little cowering, not to mention that the campfire was getting smaller and darker. The night was already deep.
——At this point, news suddenly came, the Baoshan earthquake, magnitude 5.2, looked at the map, the epicenter was Wayao Town - but half a year ago by the Lancang River, there was no tremor, everything was quiet.
Originally, it was said that I was going to set up a tent by the river, and four tents had been set up at the scene, belonging to two men and two women, Brother Lei asked me if I wanted to squeeze a tent with him, I touched the tent, both inside and outside, there was a layer of mist, and immediately retreated, saying that I should go to the town to live in a hotel. Leaving four people in tents, I and three or four others drove to the town halfway up the hill. It was a guesthouse passing by during the day, in basic condition, but at least the bedding was dry and soft. The wine was half drunk, and soon after he collapsed on the bed, he fell asleep in a wonderful feeling beyond words. I didn't have a dream all night, and when I woke up, I remembered that it was by the Lancang River.
The fog was thick and the streets were foggy. Brother Lei, they came to the door of the hotel early. Speaking of last night's night's stay by the river, I can't help but feel gimmicked. It turned out that the tents where Brother Lei and Abin lived were very thin, with a layer of water in the quilt, and in the middle of the night, Brother Lei had to get out of the tent and run by the river for a while. And what about the other two ladies? All well-equipped and incredibly hot. Laughing back, I knew I had missed a great opportunity to get up close and personal with the Lancang River. I can't help but imagine how magnificent it is to jog by the river in the middle of the night and watch the starry sky reflecting the river.
The Lancang River always gives me the feeling of being separated. Unlike the Nu River, which flows behind the western slope that I can't see every day, but I can't see it today and tomorrow, even the small ditch in front of my yard eventually flows into the Nu River. I have calculated that it will go all the way west from the door of my house to the Shidian River, and the Shidian River will go all the way north and will soon join the Nu River. When I was a child, I urinated in this small ditch many times, and after many years, the urine has long disappeared into the waves of the Nu River, no, it should have been washed into the Indian Ocean with the waves of the Nu River.
But what about the Lancang? I know that she flows every day on the east side of the mountain behind the village, almost parallel to the Nu River, but there is not a small ditch around me that has anything to do with her.
After the Lancang River flows abroad, it is called the Mekong River; After the Nu River flowed into foreign countries, it was called the Salween River. For the people of Southeast Asian countries, the Mekong River is far more famous than the Salween River. But in Baoshan, the Nu River's reputation seems to be greater than that of the Lancang. The Nu River, with fireworks in the world, the Lujiang Dam with a long stream of water, and the rich history of blood and tears in the fight against the Japanese invaders, what about the Lancang River? After passing through the river basin of Baoshan, most of the banks are high mountains, and the villages that are close to each other are also separated by mountains and water. Historically, the Lancang River was once possible to block the front line of the Japanese invaders like the Nu River - in May 1942, after the Japanese invaded western Yunnan after the Japanese invaded Burma, the national army high-level planned to withdraw the expeditionary force to the east of the Lancang River and use the Lancang River as a barrier to block the enemy on the west bank, but Li Gengen, a Tengchong man who was the Yunnan-Guizhou Inspector at the time, believed that if the Lancang River was used as a defense line, more land would be lost, and it would not be able to hold it. After Li Gengen's mediation, the high-level finally ordered the expeditionary force to strictly guard the line of the Nu River, and the Lancang River escaped disaster.
The history has been turned page by page, and the Lancang River has flowed night after night.
When the time came to last month, I went to climb Daoren Mountain with Brother Lei and other friends again. It is still to the confluence of Wayao Town on the side of the Lancang River. It was noon, and the streets of Wayao Town were completely different from those seen at midnight and early in the morning, with cockscomb and mango trees blooming everywhere, papayas crowded and panting, and large trucks carrying unknown materials. We didn't go to the pier, but after a short stop, we drove to Daoren Mountain.
On the way, stop once because of the Lancang River.
The Lancang River is at the bottom of the hillside, about two or three hundred meters apart. Twenty meters above the river, the slope is bare ochre-red, and further up, there is a road like a thin hemp rope and many small pine trees like wooden sticks. We stood halfway up the hillside, looking out at the barely visible flow of clear water forming a large bay between the mountains, and discussing how high the ochre-red cliffs on the other side were—the height that the Lancang River could reach during the rainy season. Now, with the rainy season still on the way, the Lancang River still flows gently and quietly at the bottom of the canyon.
You can only see the surface of the river five or six hundred meters long. I thought, maybe if I stand taller, I will see a bigger river? A few hours later, I climbed up the Daoren Mountain out of breath, looked back into the distance, crossed the treetops of countless rhododendrons, and saw that there was still only a short section of blue flowing through the mountains.
May 3, 2023 2:41:26 AM
[Yunbian Road] is Fu Yuehui's column in the PEN Club