We followed our friend's car for over an hour, even passing the remote Zijing Township, but still saw no sign of him slowing down to stop. In fact, we didn't know where the destination was or how far it was, only that we were going to climb the highest peak in Weishan County, Purple Mountain. Our friend always mysteriously avoided my questions—how much further, what is your village called—which filled us with anticipation. When we stopped by the roadside to let the carsick boy recover, and saw the rugged mountains bathed in the hazy winter morning light, spreading out before us with their unique grandeur, I guessed that this anticipation must be worth the long and arduous journey.
We arrived at the village of Jinshaping Group 5, where our friend's family lives, close to noon. The village gradually brightened and freshened in the intermittent sunlight, but the distant undulating mountains remained shrouded in mist and moisture. The mountain wind drifted from the mist, bringing a faint chill, which carried a hint of dampness, like tiny dewdrops hanging on the tips of grass, not very secure.
As soon as we got out of the car, we were attracted by a flat field in front of the village. This field was not desolate and lifeless due to the winter season; instead, it showed a joyful vitality. We jumped off the village's concrete road, crossed several vacant lots overgrown with weeds, and found ourselves deep in the green fields. At that time, the clouds in the sky were like a crowd dispersing from a market, each returning to their own peaks, temporarily resting their minds.
We were still immersed in the warm, gentle light of noon, unwilling to leave the fields, when our friend called us for lunch. In the mountains, we always happily enjoy the most original and delicious meals. The chicken sour soup in the brass pot had been simmering since we were still on the road. Needless to say, the pea shoots must have just been picked from the roadside vegetable patch. Auntie single-handedly prepared the entire table of dishes; as soon as we stepped into the courtyard, these dishes were brought to the table one by one. When we returned to the village from Purple Mountain in the evening, Auntie had prepared another big table of delicious food to entertain us.
Our friend said that from the moment we passed the seat of Zijing Township government and turned onto a concrete village road called Zhifu Road, all the villages we encountered were Jinshaping. The village is very scattered, divided into five groups. Our friend's family lives in Jinshaping Group 5, where more than thirty households live, all Han Chinese. It is understood that most of the Han people living in Weishan County migrated from other provinces during the Ming Dynasty, mostly from Yingtian (now Nanjing) and Jiangxi, with many from Sichuan as well. We don't know if the Han people in Jinshaping Village fall into this category; we haven't done in-depth research yet.
I was pleasantly surprised to find several rice paddies in the fields. Our friend said these are upland rice. Since the mountains are high and the waters are far, there are not enough conditions for paddy rice cultivation here. Upland rice is a kind of adaptation to local conditions.
Walking through this remote village that seems detached from the world, we pretended to feel the intentions of the first batch of Han people who chose this land as their new home. Perhaps, when they stood on a nearby hilltop overlooking this landscape, they had already drawn a blueprint in their minds, planning how to turn this unfamiliar yet beautiful land into a replica of their past homeland. They must have spent many years gradually realizing that beautiful wish.
When descending the mountain, looking down at Zijing Township from the village.
In the evening, as we came out of the mountains and returned to the village, the soft light of the setting sun fell on every corner, making the village even more gentle and serene. We sat at the dining table in our friend's courtyard, enjoying the delicious food while watching the orange-red hues of the sunset brush across the sky above the ridge, gradually fading from intense to dark until merging with the night. Here, we witnessed the most complete sunset. Our friend said that besides the sunset, we can often see a sea of clouds. What a magical little courtyard.
Vegetables on the roadside slope were casually sown by our friend, but they grew earnestly. This land provides sufficient vitality for every living thing. As long as they have the impulse to live, they can absorb all the energy needed for life: sunlight, air, water, and an upward pulling force.
On the roadside plum trees, a few white flowers bloomed sporadically, but most of the branches held small, bead-like buds. The buds were plump, surely hiding fragments of spring. When the time comes, they will spit out these fragments and stitch together an entire spring.
The primroses by the roadside were already blooming; perhaps they are reporting to the plum blossoms.
Chickens roost in their coops, the sun sets, and cattle and sheep come down. The setting sun fell on the base of the wall, and the flock of chickens returned home from the surrounding fields in groups. The dog lying in the courtyard, thinking itself a watchdog, barked fiercely at the chickens, which amused us greatly. This dog had actually followed us for six hours on the mountain when we climbed Purple Mountain. After returning to the village, it passed its owner's house without entering and followed us all the way into our friend's courtyard.
