Color Version 50 Travelogues You Should Read in Your Lifetime

Author: Lao She, Goethe
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-01-01
Features: One evening in August 1923, I went boating on the Qinhuai River with Pingbo. Pingbo was a first-timer, while I was a repeat visitor. We hired a "Qibanzi" boat and set off as the sunset faded and the bright moon rose. Then, with the oars splashing—gush, gush—we began to savor the charm of the Qinhuai River, a river swaying with the hues of history. The boats on the Qinhuai River are better than those in Beijing's Wanshengyuan or the Summer Palace, better than those on West Lake, and even better than those on Yangzhou's. The boats in those places either feel clumsy or too simple, cramped—none can evoke the poetic mood of passengers like the Qinhuai River's boats.
The boats on the Qinhuai River can be roughly divided into two types: large boats and small ones, known as "Qibanzi." Large boats have wide cabins that can accommodate twenty or thirty people. Inside, they are furnished with calligraphy and paintings, polished redwood furniture, and tables topped with cool marble. The window lattices are intricately carved, giving a soft, delicate feeling. Red and blue glass is embedded in the lattices, with exquisite patterns that are pleasing to the eye.
"Qibanzi" may be smaller than large boats, but their light blue railings and spacious cabins are enough to stir emotions. The most outstanding feature, however, is the front deck. It has an arched roof supported by sparse railings on both sides. Inside, there are usually two wicker lounge chairs. Lying down, one can chat, gaze into the distance, or enjoy the river houses on both banks. Large boats also have this feature, but on small boats, it feels even more refined.
Below the front deck, lanterns are hung everywhere. The number, brightness, and fineness of the lanterns vary, but they always provide some illumination. These lanterns are truly captivating. As the night sky falls, all the boats are lit up. The light shines through double glass, casting a radiant, golden glow that creates a misty haze. Through this haze, the dark water ripples with faint, shimmering waves. In this mist and ripples, listening to the gentle, intermittent oar strokes, who could not be drawn into their dreams? The only worry is that there are too many dreams—these boats might not be able to carry them all.
At this moment, we were vaguely talking about the romantic tales of the Qinhuai River in the Ming Dynasty, as described in The Peach Blossom Fan and The Miscellaneous Records of Banqiao. We were truly captivated. It felt as if we had witnessed the splendor of the bright lanterns reflecting on the water and the elegant river boats gliding over the waves. Thus, our boat became a vessel of history. We suddenly realized that the boats on the Qinhuai River are more elegant and charming than those elsewhere, with their unique allure, precisely because they carry so many historical images.
The water of the Qinhuai River is a deep, verdant green; it looks thick yet smooth—perhaps condensed from the golden powder of the Six Dynasties? When we first boarded the boat, it was still dusk, and the gentle waves were so tranquil and graceful that we felt both the vastness of the sky and the allure of a world of luxury and excess. By the time the lights came on, the deep green turned to a somber hue: the dim waterlight was like a dream, and the occasional flickering lights were like the eyes of a dream.
Sitting in the front cabin, with the curved roof overhead, we seemed to always be looking forward, as if riding the wind. Watching the boats moored freely, their lively figures like moving lanterns, they appeared far away in the distance, as if seen through mist—hazy and indistinct. By this time, we had passed Lisi Bridge and could see Dongguan. Along the way, we heard intermittent singing: some drifting from the brothels by the river, others coming from boats on the water. We knew these songs were merely conventional words, mechanically sung by unskilled voices. But as they wafted to us on the summer night breeze and were stirred by the water waves, they were no longer just songs but a mixture of whispers between the wind and the river. Thus, we could not help but be drawn in, moved, and swayed by these songs.
Turning at Dongguan, we soon reached Dazhong Bridge. Dazhong Bridge has three arches, all wide and imposing, like three gates. It made us feel that our boat and ourselves inside were truly insignificant as we passed beneath it. The bridge bricks are deep brown, showing their long history, yet they are all intact, leaving us to marvel at the durability and beauty of ancient engineering. The houses on both sides of the bridge are wooden walls, with a street likely running through the middle. These houses are dilapidated, their beauty obscured by years of smoke. I imagined that in the heyday of the Qinhuai River, such a grand bridge would have been adorned with luxurious paint. At night, it would have been brightly lit. Now, however, there is only a dark, somber scene! But the fact that houses were built on the bridge still allows us to imagine the former prosperity, which is some comfort.
After passing Dazhong Bridge, we arrived at the Qinhuai River where lights and moonlight blend, and music and singing fill the night—this is the true face of the Qinhuai River.