Chapter 80: Stone Path, Stone Bridge, Stone House, Old Woman

Around nine o’clock in the morning, Lin Shenlu set out with Su Bao’er. Meanwhile, Hailan Whale, with her backpack, headed in another direction. Was it for a survey, or to choose a site? Although she had only ever run a hotel, Hailan Whale knew exactly what she wanted.

Lin Shenlu, on the other hand, was bound for Yanxia Village with Su Bao’er. In his backpack, besides his Leica camera and the vlog camera clipped to the strap, he carried a drone gifted to him by An Muxi before his arrival. Such a mysterious and unique village would surely be stunning when filmed from above.

Originally, Lin Shenlu had intended to come alone, but he felt uneasy leaving Su Bao’er at home by herself. It was better to bring her along, even if just as a companion. Apart from eating a bit, she could also help with some tasks—like carrying the equipment in the backpack.

Today, Su Bao’er looked particularly lovely. Before heading out, she had changed into Hailan Whale’s clothes. As Hailan Whale had put it, “Since we’ve picked her up, she can’t keep wearing such shabby things—aside from washing her hair, she needs a proper outfit.” Lin Shenlu wanted to buy Su Bao’er some new clothes, but hadn’t found anything suitable these past couple of days.

At the moment, Su Bao’er was dressed in a brown outfit belonging to Hailan Whale, with a white t-shirt underneath—originally intended for Hailan Whale’s morning runs. After learning about Lin Shenlu’s running habit, Hailan Whale had prepared a set for herself, but village life wasn’t really suited to morning jogs, so she simply gave it to Su Bao’er.

Lin Shenlu also placed his baseball cap on Su Bao’er’s head. With the backpack, Su Bao’er no longer looked like a stray child.

It wasn’t long before Lin Shenlu and Su Bao’er reached the entrance to Yanxia Village.

There was a small town in Jingyun called Hanging Pot, and Yanxia Village was located right there. Standing at the entrance, Lin Shenlu couldn’t help but start taking photos. The grand village gate was built entirely from stones. He had never seen a city wall gate like this—irregular and uneven, stones of various colors and shapes piled together, a blend of order and chaos.

Most of the houses in the village were built of stone, arranged in a charming disorder. The roads were paved with stone, the bridges over the river were stone bridges, and every visible house was made of stone.

It seemed the villagers had simply used the materials at hand to build their settlement. Lin Shenlu thought “Stone Village” would be a more fitting name than Yanxia Village.

Stepping out of a stone house, Lin Shenlu realized that the village houses were constructed with wood interiors and stone exteriors, the stones stacked without any cutting. There was neither the grandeur of the Great Wall, nor the astonishing beauty of Lijiang Ancient Town, nor the natural elegance of the West Lake, but through the wisdom of ancestors and careful inheritance by their descendants, the village possessed a raw, authentic charm—a naturally born, ecological landscape.

“Bao’er, look, that’s the famous Fengxi Bridge ahead!” Lin Shenlu pointed to a stone bridge not far away.

Su Bao’er craned her neck to see. Across the green water stood an arched stone bridge covered in moss, forming a lovely contrast with the turbulent stream beneath. Beside the bridge was an ancient tree. Stone bridge, old tree, and flowing stream formed a rustic, peaceful scene.

Lin Shenlu mused that the scenery must change with each season, especially in autumn and winter. If one could capture photos of the stone arch bridge from the same spot in different seasons, it would certainly be a delight.

With a click, Lin Shenlu preserved the beautiful scene. The common stone bridges were a distinctive feature of this place; their bases had no supports, relying solely on stones stacked together, enduring wind and rain for centuries without issue.

Crossing the bridge, they soon reached Putong Ridge Ancient Road. At first, Lin Shenlu thought the name was a typo. But when he saw two small red lanterns hanging from the side of a stone house, and a yellow banner suspended in the middle, he realized he hadn’t misread it. The characters truly spelled “Putong Ridge.”

This stone road, running through the village, was a thousand-year-old path. It was said to be about thirty kilometers long, with over a hundred years of history, serving as a vital ancient route linking Wuzhou, Chuzhou, and Taizhou.

As they walked, a large yellow dog ran by, followed by an elderly man—likely a native villager.

“Uncle, why is this place called Putong Ridge?” Lin Shenlu asked, offering the man a cigarette.

“It was first built during the Putong era of Emperor Wu of Liang in the Southern Dynasties, so it’s called Putong Ridge,” the old man replied, puffing on his cigarette.

Lin Shenlu finally understood—Putong was an era name. He’d learned something new.

Strolling around, Lin Shenlu discovered there were five stone bridges in the village.

Aside from the Fengxi Bridge at the entrance, the most picturesque was the Pujie Bridge, probably at the village center. Standing on it, Lin Shenlu and Su Bao’er could take in all the sights of Yanxia Village. Looking up, they saw Baizhang Rock in the distance, its trees lush and green, shaped like a mighty lion.

It was now the season of abundant rain. Lin Shenlu watched a waterfall leap from the cliff, a breathtaking spectacle—truly grand and magnificent.

“Bao’er, take out the drone from the backpack. We’re right in front of the Ming Hall; I want to do some aerial filming,” Lin Shenlu said.

The Ming Hall was an ancient courtyard in the village, likely built during the Qing dynasty. Its walls, like the rest of the village, were constructed from mountain stones, meticulously laid out, with a unique architectural style.

The yellow dog was now sniffing around the entrance of the Ming Hall, which was still inhabited. Old-fashioned items had not disappeared with the changing times. On a giant stone at the entrance sat an elderly woman, her hair snowy white, and not a tooth left in her mouth. Beside her was a cane.

She smiled, her lips shriveled like a walnut, as she watched Lin Shenlu. “Child, taking photos?” she asked, even striking a graceful pose.

Lin Shenlu felt she looked familiar, as if he’d seen her somewhere before. But since she wanted her photo taken, he obliged.

“Grandma, do you often have your photo taken?” Lin Shenlu asked, curious.

“Yes, I’m a hundred years old now. I’ve met thousands of photographers like you. Some photos of me have even won awards!” she replied with a cheerful, though somewhat whistling, smile.

Lin Shenlu realized he truly had seen such photos before. Over the years, countless photographers had come to capture her portrait. Time had taken many, but not the old woman’s life.

He gently pressed the shutter, capturing her pure and sincere smile.

Do not laugh at the one with white hair and flowers; time never defeats beauty. If poetry and books dwell in the heart, then the essence of youth shines forth as truth.

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