Ancient ship

Author: Zhang Wei
Publisher:
Publish Date: 1987-08-01
Features: The speed at which time flows always passes much faster than people originally anticipate. It seems like just recently the "Ancient Ship" was completed, and the fervent debates about it also seem to have just subsided. Unfortunately, a decade has passed in the blink of an eye, and indeed, everything was ten years ago. How many "decades" does a person's productive writing period have? It's no longer necessary to revisit the writing of "Ancient Ship" or the disputes surrounding it today. Because everything that needed to be said has already been expressed in the two recorded speeches, one interview response, and one postscript to the overseas edition of the book. What remains for me today are only nostalgia and reflections. The iron-colored brick walls and city ramparts indeed reflect the former glory of Wali Town. The Lüqing River is now shallow and narrow, but in the past, it was vast and turbulent. The stepped old river channel narrates the history of a great river gradually receding. To this day, there is an abandoned dock in the town, faintly proving the former splendor of ships with towering masts. At that time, it was a mandatory stop for passing ships, where they rested and prepared for new long voyages. The town has an old temple where a grand temple fair is held every year. Sailors drifting at sea might fondly recall the bustling scene of the temple fair. Along the old riverbank, there are still dilapidated buildings scattered about, like some ruined ancient fortresses. Under the gloomy sky, the river flows slowly, and the "fortresses" remain silent. At a glance, these "fortresses" are lined up along the riverbank, getting smaller and smaller, almost invisible in the distance. But gradually, the river breeze will carry a sound: a low rumble, growing louder and clearer—it originates from those "fortresses." They once had sounds, they once had life. However, as you walk toward the "fortresses," you can see that most of them have collapsed roofs and blocked entrances. Yet, there are still one or two, maybe three, that remain "alive." If you step inside, you'll be taken aback: enormous stone mills are slowly turning in the center of the "fortresses," patiently grinding time. Two old oxen pull the giant mill, walking slowly along a road with no beginning or end. Where the ox hooves don't reach, moss has grown thickly. An old man sits calmly on a square bench nearby, watching the old mill. Occasionally, he rises and pours a wooden spoon of soaked green beans into the mill's eye. This was once an old millhouse. The low rumble sounds more like rolling thunder in the distance. Along the riverbank, the number of old millhouses corresponds to the number of vermicelli workshops in Wali Town. This was once a famous region for vermicelli production. By the early 20th century, large-scale vermicelli factories had emerged along the river, with the "White Dragon" brand vermicelli gaining worldwide fame. The wide river was filled with sails, and even at midnight, the sound of work songs and the creaking of oars could be heard. Many of these boats were transporting green beans and coal to the vermicelli factories, as well as carrying away the finished vermicelli. Today, only a few old mills remain turning on the riverbank, and only a handful of vermicelli workshops are left in the town. It's puzzling why these dilapidated old millhouses have stood tall through the long years. In the twilight, they stand in contrast to the broken city walls, as if waiting for something, or perhaps whispering something.