Chapter Twenty-Nine: Crossing the River

The speaker was a young man with a dark complexion, thick glasses perched on his nose. Despite his frail build, he had a coarse rope slung over his shoulder, pulling a handcart behind him. The mountain path was rugged and full of potholes, making his task arduous. Sweat poured from his brow as he finally drew near us and asked, “Are you the ones heading to Shanxia Village?”

He spoke in Mandarin, and his manner suggested he’d had some schooling, so I asked, “Can you ferry us across the river?”

The young man was about to reply when the mule-driver interrupted, “College boy, shouldn’t you be home looking after your mother? What are you doing here getting mixed up in this?”

The young man ignored him, his gaze fixed on me. “Can you pay me six hundred?”

“If you can truly get us across the river, never mind six hundred—I'll pay you a thousand,” Jin Yitiao chimed in. “But I’m not sitting in that handcart. It sinks too fast; we might as well swim across.”

“Who said anything about riding in the cart?” The young man flushed. “I have a boat. But you’ll need to pay me double up front; then I’ll take you across. Once we’re ashore, I’ll return the rest.”

Jin Yitiao, his Beijing accent thick, retorted, “What kind of business is this? When you’ve got us ashore, you could run off with the money, and who would we complain to?”

The young man grew agitated. “The money isn’t for me anyway. Take it or leave it, but don’t insult me!”

The sun was nearly setting. If we didn’t cross now, the mule cart would drag us back to the county, forcing us to stay overnight and return tomorrow. After this long journey, my body couldn’t take another round of torment. So I tried to smooth things over: “Paying you is fine, but you must tell us what’s involved so we can feel reassured, right?”

He shook his head. “I can’t say before we cross. If I tell you, it won’t work.”

I glanced at Jin Yitiao, silently suggesting that since he’d brought us here, he should decide. Jin Yitiao sucked his teeth, clearly flustered. He hadn’t expected that after all their ritual bows, the last hurdle would be fraught with trouble. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he muttered, “It’s not really about the money, but I don’t think you’re a decent guy.”

“You’re not decent either! If you’ve got the guts, swim across yourself. I won’t ferry you anymore!”

I noticed the young man repeatedly used the word “pull” instead of “ferry,” as if there were some hidden meaning. Before I could puzzle it out, Tong Xiaomeng spoke up, “Deal. Twelve hundred, right? I’ll pay you now.”

Seeing Tong Xiaomeng pulling cash from her pocket, Jin Yitiao quickly stopped her, “Are you really going to pay?”

Tong Xiaomeng replied, “I trust him. If you don’t want to pay, I will.” The men couldn’t just let her pay alone; I signaled Jin Yitiao, and though reluctant, he counted out six hundred from his wallet and handed it to the young man. “When can we cross?”

The young man said, “Wait for me at the river’s mouth. I’ll take the cart over and come back for you.”

As the young man and his cart faded from sight, the mule-driver said, “I don’t know if you’re doing the right thing, but he won’t cheat you. Don’t worry.”

Curious, I asked, “You called him a college student earlier—do you know him?”

The driver smiled, “He should have been in college, but when he got his acceptance letter, his mother fell ill. The hospital diagnosed late-stage liver cancer and said only a transplant would buy more time. Orphaned, no father, just the two of them—where could he get the money?”

He urged the mule cart toward the river mouth. The three of us sat silently until we reached the riverbank, where I settled the fare and handed him a cigarette. “Since you know who he is, why not tell us earlier?”

He lit the cigarette and squinted through the haze. “He won’t let me. Says earning his keep through labor isn’t shameful. He’s got some skill, but his temperament is odd. The river’s big—give him some space on the boat. Just cross safely; don’t fuss over details.”

“So you’re saying he can really ferry us across?” I asked.

He chuckled, “For the past two months, he’s the only one daring to take the river route to Shanxia Village. If he wasn’t capable, no one would attempt it.”

The driver’s evasiveness prompted me to hand him a fresh pack of Yuxi cigarettes. “Is there something strange about this river? Why are there so many boatmen, yet only he dares cross?”

The driver grinned, tucking the cigarettes away. He glanced around, then lowered his voice, “You’re no ordinary folks. To be honest, in the past month, I’ve ferried more than one group of outsiders to Shanxia Village, but none have returned. I tried to dissuade you out of kindness. Since you insist on going, let me warn you: the Yellow River is full of rare things. Curiosity is fine, but don’t try to take anything—some things belong to someone!”

After he left, Jin Yitiao smacked his lips, “This feels like a setup to me.”

No one knew where the young man took the cart. The three of us waited at the river mouth until dusk, not seeing a soul. All the other boatmen had left. Even I began to suspect we’d walked right into a trap—a scam in the middle of nowhere.

Yet Tong Xiaomeng was unwavering in her intuition. She said she could see something different in the young man’s eyes—not exactly honesty, but certainly not deceit.

Jin Yitiao admired her discernment. With lenses that thick, he couldn’t even see the young man’s eyes, and wondered how she could spot purity.

Thankfully, after another twenty minutes, we saw a boat gliding downstream. As it drew near, we recognized the young man at the bow. Tong Xiaomeng told Jin Yitiao, “We must look at the world with kindness. When someone steps in dog shit, some believe it’s lucky and secretly rejoice, thinking they’ll get rich. Others see it as dirty, feel unlucky, and mope. Happiness isn’t determined by the dog shit, but by how you view it.”

Hearing her words, I wasn’t bothered by dog shit’s filth; instead, I felt she’d lent this mess a certain charm.

The young man used a long pole to steady the boat at the shore, apologizing and explaining that the boat had been moored upstream, but someone had thrown a rock and punched a hole in it. He’d spent ages patching it, and now he could take us across.

I glanced at Jin Yitiao, whose face was pale as a ghost. I laughed, “See, someone stepped in dog shit.”

I asked the young man his name. He said he was Chen Tao, in the same year as Tong Xiaomeng, and had been doing this for four years, since his mother was diagnosed with liver cancer. Had he gone to college, he’d have graduated by now.

Tong Xiaomeng asked if he’d ever considered returning to university. I thought it was a foolish question, and Chen Tao merely shook his head in silence.

Chen Tao said that though we were from the capital, even Emperor Qianlong, when crossing the Yellow River, had to follow the rituals—burning paper and kneeling. On the river, your life belongs to the river king. If you don’t follow the old customs, you’ll end up feeding the river turtles!

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. With so many boatmen, only Chen Tao was willing to take us to Shanxia Village; it couldn’t be without reason. Jin Yitiao and I, both familiar with the Yellow River’s uncanny ways, readily agreed.

Chen Tao had already prepared the paper and candles for the river ritual. He planted two lit red candles in the riverbank’s mud, handed each of us a stack of yellow paper, and instructed us to kneel behind him, burning the paper and bowing to the river.

The scene struck me as absurd, but remembering what we’d experienced in Hezi Village, I couldn’t help feeling a sense of reverence toward this great river. Glancing sideways at Tong Xiaomeng, I saw her eyes closed, her face serene and devout as she bowed, and knew that, judging by our first ride together, she was thinking the same as I was.