eurekapd Chapter 110: Journey: Echoes of the Jinsha River
Chapter 110: Journey: Echoes of the Jinsha River
On the streets of Batang, gently bathed in the morning light, Zhang Bei's pickup truck started up first. The roar of its engine shattered the morning's stillness, like a clarion call, heralding the start of a new day. Xiao Xing sat in the passenger seat, her face brimming with excitement. Her carefully braided pigtails swayed slightly with the car's vibrations, her eyes sparkling with anticipation for the journey ahead. "Abao, sit tight!" she smiled, instructing the eager panda dog beside her, its tongue lolling out, looking like an elf about to embark on a fantastical adventure.
Following closely behind was the RV driven by Li Fugui and Xiao Taojie. Its massive size yet steady progress made it a cozy, moving fortress. Zhang Tingjian sat on the sofa inside the car, his fingers gently stroking a yellowed, old book containing ancient legends of the Sichuan-Tibet Highway. He would sometimes look out the window at the fleeting scenery, sometimes lower his head in deep thought, as if seeking a hidden connection between the lines of text and the real mountains and rivers. Zhang Nan, wearing headphones, leaned against the window, swaying softly to the music. The slight curl of his lips betrayed his deep curiosity about the destination he was about to reach.
Winding westward along National Highway 318, it's like stepping into a majestic, slowly unfolding landscape. The sky resembles a meticulously polished giant sapphire, crystal clear without a trace of impurities. A few wisps of white clouds, as thin as cicada wings, drift leisurely, like the effortless brushstrokes of an immortal, casually dotting the boundless blue. In the distance, snow-capped mountains tower into the clouds, their continuous peaks like the raised silver spine of the earth god. The perpetual snow, gently caressed by the sunlight, gleams with a holy and dazzling light, like fine silver flakes sprinkled by a deity, its brilliance almost dizzying. On the mountainside, the swirling clouds are like a soft veil, floating slowly and entwining, sometimes half-covering the snow-capped mountains, outlining a dreamy and mysterious outline, and sometimes slowly dispersing, revealing the hard and cold lines of the mountains, showing the wonders of nature's uncanny craftsmanship.
Outside the car window, on one side, a steep, precipitous cliff face loomed. Layers of brown and yellow rock, etched with the vicissitudes of time and wind, they resembled a "history book" carved by nature with the knife of time. Every crack and protrusion told the story of past geological changes and vicissitudes. Occasionally, a tenacious pine tree grew on the cliff face, rooted in the barren crevices of the rock. Its branches were twisted and strong, its needles lush and verdant, like a resolute frontier warrior, standing proudly, fearless of the wind and frost, demonstrating life's tenacity and indomitable spirit. On the other side, a deep river valley seemed bottomless, and the roaring river roared like a galloping horse, its sound resonating throughout the land. The river, laden with mud and sand, roared like an angry brown bear, its yellow waves crashing and breaking, splashing layers of white foam and creating a deafening roar, as if roaring out stories of thousands of years to the world.
"Zhangbei, what do you think Mangkang is like? Is that Jinsha River Bridge really as impressive as the legends say?" Xiao Xing turned, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Zhangbei, filled with longing. Zhangbei smiled, his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead. His voice was steady and powerful, "It's definitely good. It's a vital thoroughfare on the Sichuan-Tibet Highway and has witnessed countless stories. We'll see it for ourselves soon."
Soon, the outline of Mangkam gradually became clear in the distance. This county town, nestled in the mountains, exudes a quaint and mellow atmosphere. As the car entered the city, the streets were lined with uniquely Tibetan buildings, white walls and red eaves, painted with colorful, mysterious and solemn religious patterns, as if silently speaking of the faith and heritage of this land. Prayer flags fluttered in the breeze, their colorful strips emblazoned with scriptures, like secret messages from heaven to the human world, conveying blessings and wishes.
They found a place to park and rest, then headed towards the Jinsha River Bridge. The road, crisscrossed with mountains and valleys, was a bit bumpy, but their hearts were already drawn to the bridge that held so much history. Near the river, the mighty Jinsha River surged past, carrying silt and sand like an angry brown bear, roaring and surging. The yellow waves crashed and shattered, splashing layers of white foam and creating a deafening roar, as if roaring out centuries of stories to the world.
The Jinsha River Bridge, like a giant dragon forged of steel, spans the two banks, connecting Sichuan and Tibet. Its surface bears the marks of time, streaks of rust like medals of past trials and tribulations, telling of its vicissitudes and glories. Standing at the bridgehead, Li Fugui took a deep breath and exclaimed, "Wow, this bridge looks impressive. It must have withstood countless storms and carried countless travelers." Sister Tao tightened her shawl around her and snuggled up to him, her eyes filled with awe. "Yes, it feels like stepping onto this bridge is like encountering the spirits of those old-time gold miners."
As he was speaking, an elderly Tibetan man, over 70, slowly approached. He was dressed in traditional Tibetan robes, his face etched with wrinkles, each one a story of years gone by. Zhang Bei hurried forward and, in a mix of broken Tibetan and Mandarin, asked if he could tell him about the gold rush in the Jinsha River. The man nodded slightly, his gaze fixed on the surging waters, and his voice, hoarse and heavy with time, opened up those forgotten memories.
"Long, long ago, this Jinsha River was our 'Golden Belt' gift from Heaven. Back then, men from the mountains and adventurers from outside gathered here, dreaming of panning for gold." The old man raised his hand and pointed to the riverbank below. "In the beginning, our tools were rudimentary: a wooden basin and a simple sieve. Bending over in the freezing water, we'd spend the entire day panning. But everyone's eyes gleamed, hoping to pull a nugget of gold from the sand."
Xiao Xing listened attentively. She squatted down and gently stroked Tuanzi's head, staring at the old man without blinking. The difficult but passionate scene seemed to emerge in her mind: a group of ragged but energetic gold diggers set up simple tents by the river, worked in the river breeze in the morning, and fell asleep in the golden sand at dusk.
"Later, some small gangs emerged and gradually formed rules. However, how could there be no disputes over such precious things?" The old man frowned, his expression solemn. "In order to fight for the rich mining areas, people often drew their swords against each other. Bandits and bullies also got involved, relying on force to occupy the good land. How many families were broken up and their blood and tears seeped into the sand by the river." Zhang Tingjian nodded frequently and wrote down the key words with his pen. He had a deeper understanding of the complexity and cruelty of this period of history.
"Later on, the state took control and standardized mining. In addition, it became increasingly difficult to find gold in the river, so the large-scale gold rush gradually receded. But the stories left behind are like the river, which never stops flowing." After the old man finished speaking, he took a long breath, his eyes showing both reminiscing about the past and satisfaction with the stable life he has today.
Everyone was lost in the story, speechless for a long moment. Only the waves of the Jinsha River tirelessly pounded against the bridge piers, as if echoing the old man's narration. Zhang Nan, gazing at the river, suddenly spoke, "Although the gold rush is over, does the spirit nurtured by the Jinsha River still influence the people here?" The old man grinned, revealing his few remaining teeth. "You're right, kid. The people here have an innate resilience, unbreakable like the river. We live by the mountains and rivers, and we thrive."
After leaving the bridge, they returned to Mangkam County. Night had quietly fallen, and the town was ablaze with lights, like stars scattered across the night sky. The unique aroma of butter tea and Tibetan incense wafted from the streets, a warm and cozy atmosphere filling the alleys. They found a Tibetan restaurant and gathered around low tables laden with delicious food, savoring authentic Tibetan cuisine. The rich barley wine washed away the day's fatigue and intensified their love for Mangkam and the Jinsha River.
At night, they stayed at a local Tibetan home. The traditional Tibetan dwelling was spacious and comfortable, decorated with exquisite murals. A cow dung fire burned brightly in the stove, illuminating everyone's face. Lying on a soft Tibetan rug, Xiao Xing tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. Her mind was filled with the majestic sight of the Jinsha River Bridge during the day and the twists and turns of the gold rush stories. "Zhang Bei, what do you think would have happened if we were born during the gold rush era?" she asked softly. Zhang Bei reached over and pulled the quilt over her, tucking it in. "Maybe we could have made a name for ourselves, but for now, seeing the sights and hearing the stories along 318 is pretty good too."
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the carved windows, casting a golden hue across the house, reminiscent of the golden sands along the Jinsha River. They bid farewell to the welcoming Tibetans and prepared to embark on their journey again. The car slowly drove out of Mangkang. In the rearview mirror, the county town and the Jinsha River gradually receded. But the sound of the waves and the story were deeply engraved in their hearts, becoming an indelible mark of their journey, inspiring them to continue their journey to the unknown yet captivating scenery of the next stop, to continue writing their own stories on this legendary 318 Road.
The road thereafter is still full of rolling hills and picturesque scenery. Every bend and every meadow seems to be telling a new legend, but the Jinsha River Bridge and gold rush legend in Mangkang always occupy a place in everyone's hearts, like a bright light, illuminating the way forward, making them more aware of cherishing the mountains, rivers and humanities encountered along the way, and cherishing this wonderful journey of close embrace with history and the earth.