Mist over the ancient town of Fenghuang

Post:YutakaImage:Ms. Giang

In early spring, we took a long train journey north into China, still cold due to the late melting snow, to find our way to Fenghuang Ancient Town. By the time the car reached the ancient town, it was late at night. The air was damp and freezing. Rows of quiet houses reflected their shadows in the rushing river. Our accommodation was on this side of the ancient town, the more modern side with more high-rise buildings. From the window of our room, we could see the entire ancient town on the other side of the river.

The ancient town awakens very early. At 6 a.m., while the sun is still asleep, the sound of washing clothes can be heard from across the river. The Tujia women of this land still maintain the habit of washing clothes in the Da Jiang River every morning, regardless of the weather, whether it's winter or summer, spring or autumn. The sound of washing clothes each morning is like the crowing of roosters calling the sun, waking the entire ancient town to welcome a new day. And soon after, there are the footsteps of early morning vendors, the sound of shops opening, the sweeping of courtyards, the calls of children going to school, and the soft singing from a crackling loudspeaker behind a slightly open window.

In the ancient streets winding along the river, everything unfolds smoothly and according to an unspoken order, day after day. Standing amidst these ancient streets, I feel as if I've returned to an old town from several hundred years ago—simple, tranquil, and unhurried.

Fenghuang Ancient Town is located in western Hunan Province, China. Originally, it was just a small, charming town on one side of the Tuojiang River. Over time, locals gradually moved to live on both sides of the river. The bridges connecting the two banks are a distinctive feature of this town. There are dozens of bridges spanning the small river, made of various materials, along a stretch of less than a kilometer. Most notable are the stone bridges, some as old as the ancient town itself, the zigzag wooden pedestrian bridges, and the large iron and concrete bridges for vehicles. The two sides of the river present two contrasting images of the town. On one side of the river is the ancient town, steeped in history and nearly 1300 years old, while on the other side is the modern town with its newly built high-rise buildings and rows of restaurants lining the riverbank. If you want to wake up in the fresh air of the old town, don't hesitate to choose a guesthouse in one of the winding streets; and if you want to admire the Da Giang River and the entire town, choose a room on the other side of the river.

Despite being a famous tourist city in China, the ancient town seems unaffected by the outside world. Wandering around the town all day, I didn't encounter a single foreign tourist besides us. Unlike the bustling and noisy ancient town of Lijiang, Fenghuang Ancient Town has a quiet and contemplative atmosphere, like a young woman gazing at her reflection in the Tuojiang River.

Life in the ancient town was just as peaceful. There was no noise, no arguments. The impact of tourism did not affect the daily lives of the townspeople. They still sold traditional goods, everyday necessities, noodle shops in the mornings, and bicycles clattering along carrying steamed buns and tofu pudding. Occasionally, at the end of a crossroads, a few women of the Tujia ethnic group, with colorful flower garlands on their heads, cheerfully offered their simply woven garlands.

Following the giggles, I found myself lost deep within the ancient town. The houses, with their tiled courtyards, had darkened with time. Navigating through the narrow alleys, I ventured deeper into the town. The yin-yang tiled roofs were overgrown with weeds. Children walked hand in hand, playing and joking, their cheeks flushed and chapped from the cold. Many people dread traveling on rainy days, but in these spring rains, I truly saw the beauty of the ancient town revealed. Moss-covered walls flourished, and flowers drenched in the gentle rain. The curved tiled roofs and dark brick walls were captivating. A warbler chirped melodiously under the eaves. Clang… clang… a bicycle behind me chimed, its bell breaking the quiet of the street. The landlady, shuffling in her sandals, came out to open the door, receiving a handwritten letter from the old postman. In this rapidly changing age of the internet and media, handwritten letters still arrive daily in every home in the ancient town, despite the information explosion. In this entire town, you'd be hard-pressed to find a computer or electronics store unless you cross the bridge to the new neighborhood.

From atop the city wall, you can see the entire ancient town. The road runs along the city wall, with the river winding outside. This street is also the main thoroughfare of Fenghuang Ancient Town. The street sells all kinds of goods for locals and tourists. It's a pedestrian and bicycle-only area, quiet and without any aggressive touting. You can stop at any shop, sample delicious traditional food, or buy fun souvenirs. Some leather goods shops, dried beef shops, and craft shops are popular choices.

Most interesting of all are the walks across the stone bridge over the river. Every day, many tourists and locals cross this bridge. It's also an ideal spot for taking photos of Fenghuang Ancient Town. Many tourists also choose to take a boat ride on the river to admire the shimmering ancient town reflected in the water and weave through the romantic bridges spanning the river.

As night falls, the entire town shimmers in the colorful light of lanterns. A few shops are closing. The river connecting the old town reflects the lanterns, and the entire stretch of river glows brightly. Hongqiao Bridge, the most beautiful old bridge in the ancient city, is lavishly decorated. Candles are sold along the river, their blossoming candlelight creating a magical effect. I sit in a teahouse, enjoying a warm, fragrant cup of tea, watching the stream of people gradually thin out.

At 11 PM, the lights in the houses on both banks of the river were gradually fading. I wandered across the small bridge spanning the river, hastily pulling my hood up to keep my ears warm and wrapping my woolen scarf around my neck, my hands tucked deeper into my coat pockets. A light drizzle was falling. The night was thick with the incessant sound of flowing water. A few passersby turned to let me cross first. The streets were dimly lit. The road was wet, the houses were wet, even the lanterns outside the windows were wet. Only a few houses still had their lights on. A late-night noodle shop was still open, inviting my rumbling stomach. I stopped at the small, simply decorated shop and slurped down a steaming bowl of hot noodles. The spicy soy sauce and the hot broth warmed me up. The shopkeeper was chatting softly with a late-night customer, occasionally smiling at me when she caught my eye. Her hands moved swiftly, twisting and pulling the noodles, pulling and pulling. Each bowl of noodles was meticulously prepared, from the noodles themselves to the slices of char siu pork in the clear broth.

As I left the shop, the owner was packing up, closing, and resting. The street was quiet, with only a few people passing by. Under the bridge, a candlelight flickered, and an old street artist was playing the last notes of his unfinished music. A couple of people, like me, still lingered, enjoying the music, not in a hurry to leave. It was very late. All the lights were off. Silence, profoundness, and peace prevailed.

The Thanh