Chapter 74: Sails on the Ou River, Fishermen Singing at Dusk

Lin Shenlu savored the flavor of the Jinyun baked flatbread, while Su Bao’er had already devoured one whole in just a few big bites.

“Deer girl… I’m still hungry…” Su Bao’er hadn’t had nearly enough.

Of course—she’d woken up with an empty stomach, then walked such a long way with Lin Shenlu. She was truly famished.

“Boss, two more, please!” Lin Shenlu nodded.

The flatbread was indeed delicious; one would hardly suffice.

“We’re out. You’ll have to wait for the next batch!” The shopkeeper was skillfully kneading dough as he spoke.

“Don’t worry, it’s quick—three to five minutes and they’ll be done!”

After speaking, the boss folded the filling—finely chopped preserved vegetables and fresh pork—into the dough. He pinched the edges closed, pressed it flat, and in moments, a perfect round cake was formed.

He brushed a little malt syrup on top, scattered sesame seeds, and stuck the cakes onto the hot inner wall of the charcoal oven.

In just three or four minutes, the cakes turned golden, sending out a mouthwatering aroma.

The boss used iron tongs to hand the freshly baked Jinyun flatbreads to Lin Shenlu.

The fragrance was simply irresistible.

“Two more, please, boss!”

“Alright… mmm… I could eat more…” Su Bao’er mumbled.

…

Sated, the two strolled leisurely around.

This was a place whose charm could only be truly felt by those who cherished the beauty of nature and longed for the simplicity of rustic villages.

Lishui was not a well-trodden tourist spot, yet it exceeded every expectation.

Terraced fields layered across the mountains, the millennium-old Tongji Weir and the artistic painting village, rows of horse-head gable walls and blue flagstone paths, stone bridges and fishermen in the fine rain, oil paintings under the banyan tree and wood carvings within ancestral halls, tunnels cut through the ridges and lush woods along the stream—all was tranquil and comfortable.

In Lin Shenlu’s eyes, the distant green mountains were veiled in emerald, clear rivers glistened, and a stone bridge spanned the water from west to east.

Time seemed to slip backwards by centuries, settling into silence.

An old man led a glossy ox slowly across the bridge.

On the riverbank stood old houses, a green ox, and a farmer at ease.

Morning mist draped the landscape in a gauzy veil, softening the world’s commotion.

Such was the direction of time.

…

Dagangtou Town.

The Ancient Weir Painting Village.

This was perhaps one of the very reasons Lin Shenlu had longed to come here.

The “ancient weir” referred to Tongji Weir in Yantou Village on the northern bank; the “painting village” was Dagangtou Town on the southern shore.

Having spent a night here, Lin Shenlu was ready to seek out the painting village of her dreams.

Along the riverside street, full of studios, cafes, and artsy little shops—whether by the docks or beneath the great camphor tree, even children were painting with oils.

Over a decade ago, Lishui’s painters found inspiration in the Barbizon School, using oil painting to capture local customs and scenery.

Now, the town’s reputation as a painting village was firmly established.

As one walked the streets, countless plein-air painters could be found—depicting the lush mountains, flourishing trees, and the soul of the land.

Here, every artist’s dream was cradled.

Oujuang’s sails, fishing boats at dusk, green mountains and clear waters, blue tiles and white walls…

Such are the impressions left by artists’ brushes and photographers’ lenses.

It is the beauty of this southern town and the simplicity of its people—spread to the world through the hands of painters and the eyes of photographers—that draws so many.

Canvas after canvas, photograph after photograph, each unique and beautiful, bring Lishui before the world.

The Ancient Weir Painting Village… the hometown of photography… the last secret realm of the south.

People come from afar, all for the sake of art.

Lin Shenlu remembered a photograph she had seen years ago.

It was perhaps three or four years before—a picture titled “Fairyland” that had brought this place into the spotlight.

It was then Lin Shenlu first learned of Lishui.

The photograph, taken by the master Wu Pinhe over a decade before, planted the seed of Lishui in Lin Shenlu’s heart.

Later, the Russian photographer Proshin Vladimir stunned her again with his “Oujuang Sails.”

And so—Lishui—the beauty of southern Zhejiang.

Thousands of elegant peaks, countless steep valleys, pure springs and grand waterfalls hidden within, and the 800-li Oujuang with its unique natural wonders.

Oujuang’s sails, fishing boats at dusk, Yunhe’s terraced fields, Nanjian’s sea of clouds, Xiandu’s morning mist, Situ’s charm…

Each of these called to Lin Shenlu, a photographer of rare dedication.

…

Here, Lin Shenlu nursed a small dream.

…

She took many photographs and sent them to An Muxi.

But An Muxi was likely at work, and didn’t reply.

Lin Shenlu, having walked all morning, was truly tired.

As always, she thought, if only there were some means of transportation.

Unfortunately, in this place, that was a real challenge.

“Deer girl… why aren’t you moving…” Su Bao’er whispered in her ear.

“I’m tired… I want to see those mountains over there, but I don’t want to walk. Maybe we’ll just go home later. I’ll ask one of the locals if we can borrow a motorbike.” Lin Shenlu sighed.

“Hmm… a vehicle… wait for me…” Su Bao’er turned and hunched off into the crowd.

Lin Shenlu was puzzled.

What was this girl up to?

Don’t get lost now…

Just as she was about to follow, Lin Shenlu’s phone rang.

Who could it be?

The caller was a number she didn’t recognize—from Dali, no less.

Strange. She had no friends in Dali who would have her number.

Puzzled, Lin Shenlu answered.

“Hello?”

“Guess who I am…” A young woman’s voice came through.

Lin Shenlu recognized it instantly.

This girl… how childish.

“Hailanjing… why are you calling me?” Lin Shenlu asked with a laugh.

If Hailanjing was calling, she could understand; after all, she’d registered her details at the hotel.

But really, they had little to do with each other now.

Since parting in Dali, their paths had diverged completely.

Why was she calling now?

“You’re no fun! You guessed it right away.” Hailanjing huffed.

“So… can you guess where I am?” she asked, a note of mystery in her voice.

“Where else could you be? Either at the hotel or on your way there… I heard you haven’t been streaming lately? Are you sick again?” Lin Shenlu teased.

“Ugh, Lin Shenlu, can’t you wish me something good for once? But you’re right, I am on the way to the hotel—except… I’m opening a hotel!”

Hailanjing laughed.

“Oh? Opening a new branch? Let me guess, is it in Xizhou, or… Lijiang?” Lin Shenlu was curious.

This girl had plenty of funds; opening a new place was hardly surprising.

“Neither… not Xizhou, not Lijiang… It’s in Lishui!” Hailanjing’s laughter rang through the phone.

“What?” Lin Shenlu was still reeling from the news when, not far away, a deep blue electric tricycle was speeding toward her—

And the frantic driver was… Su Bao’er?

Heavens! Was she about to run her down?

Help!