There are many wharves along the banks of the Fu River, especially those for transporting tea. Each of these ancient piers has its own story.

The pier was hidden in the valley, some with flat banks, some steep, and some hidden at the edge of the forest. From time to time, mountain streams flowed along the peaks of the grassy valleys, and then disappeared.

Sandwiched between two mountains, a river runs through the steep mountains.

Halfway up the mountainside, smoke crawled towards the mountain, and a few houses were scattered. A wooden boat plunged into the river, empty of the boat. Today, the ancient ferry boat is difficult.

The banks of the river are empty and leisurely, the beach is full of rocks, and a dog lies on the bank. The sunlight was thin, allowing the mountain fog to take advantage of the loopholes, and a layer of fog drifted up in the river valley. Nong Tianyi made a lot of effort to find the original site of the ancient ferry, which was lonely, leaning under the huge umbrella leaves of an old banyan tree, as if it was sleeping, not caring about the world.

The ferry boat is like a leaf floating in the river, not carrying the changing wind and clouds, but more just shuttling through the waves in the legend.

On the surface of the river, several waterfowl were foraging, and after a while, they were crying happily into the clouds. The clear water of the river reflects the verdant woods, and the ferry is like a scar, clinging to the stone-walled river.

The slightly dry river is filled with the smell of ferries plowing the waves. As soon as you bend down and feel the icy water, you will realize that the ferry pays infinite respect to the collision of the rapids.

Today, the ancient ferry port is far from the center of the incident and returns to its original state, and the distant fireworks often swallow up the fragments of memory and leave a burning birthmark.

Looking deep into the grass and trees, only the faint sound of the stream was heard, intermittently, and the slow singing came from the murmur of the fragrance of wild flowers. A trickle of water descends all the way down the mountain, tactful, soothing, like a long and elegant thread of water......

Sometimes splashing between steep rock walls and circulating on smooth stone islands; Sometimes balance the equisector line between the mountains, and feel comfortable and smiling; Sometimes they draw boundaries and separate each other, as if they are full of principles. The stream at the high place hangs on the Bifeng, crisp and dripping, like a fairy music praying for blessings, and the flow speed is cheerful and bright; And the stream that enters the crack, as if the content of the texture is surging, surging in the cramped road, falling into the foot of the mountain, and disappearing in the water.

Occasionally, the water accumulates into a pool, and the depth is bottomless, or it flows and moves, converging into a beach, changing the direction of action. Occasionally, it fell on the solemn stone tablet, and over time, it smashed out a deep brown pit. From a distance, it is like a slender and slender string of water in exile, pulling out the runway of life.

Mountain streams, crossing ditches and stepping on hurdles, crossing lofty mountains and mountains, locking the goal of the long journey within one step and one inch, calmly and unhurriedly, gradually approaching the vast weather of the sea. Do not tire of its small stream, do not complain about the long distance, in the calm drop, continuous line, without interruption, with a cup of water waves for a long time to wash the waterway, into the deep blue surrounded by the world.

In fact, this is a battle path of life running and fighting, a changing channel that is constantly evolving in the battle with nature, engraved with the profound memory of a drop of water and a stream biting.

Like scattered jade, the river rushes out of the deep mountains with green and faint water waves. A few ancient willows are becoming more and more vigorous under the backdrop of the ferry. The riverbed has been hit by the rapids for many years, knocking out an arc-shaped bend, and the water in the bend is deep and rapid, cutting off the two banks.

The wooden boat rested on the shore, and the thick cable was tied to the waist of a boulder, and it made a mark of different shades on the stone. If you don't see it with your own eyes, you really can't imagine it.

The ferry boat is usually tethered to the right side of the river, and villagers need to walk down the river bank through more than a dozen stone steps to reach the river ferry. The stone steps have long lost their former roughness, and only the old footprints have stepped on the brilliance.

The river bank on the left side is relatively gentle, and some scattered gravel is paved with the bank, white, black, gray, spotted, or golden and buttery stones, scattered on the scattered path, which is very beautiful. The villages on both sides of the river are about two miles apart, and the topography and scenery on the right and left banks are divided by the river. It's all a creation of nature.

The river always walks along the foot of one side of the mountain here, lacking the momentum of two mountains facing each other. The small plains deposited by the river, the rice grass is green, the rape is golden, the peach and apricot orchards are full of orchards, and the tea gardens are full of slopes, and these rich grains also enrich the ordinary days of the people in this countryside.

The trees and mountains by the river are verdant, and the animals and plants are abundant, and these natural gifts are invisibly more fun. Catching fish and turtles, and fishing with nets are at your fingertips. The people on the shore are full of smoke. If you take the ferry as the origin and the ferry as the boat, it is to cross to the other side and shoot into the distance.

The boatman is like a lonely shadow floating in the river, this water, this crossing between the banks, they know very well the nature of the water in the four seasons of the year, whether deep or shallow, these are quietly integrated into its blood, and rush with it......

Nong Tianyi occasionally stood on the hillside on the opposite bank, looking at the ferry. In the summer, he would swim from the upper reaches of the river to the ferries a short distance downstream. The ancient willow branches stretched out on the shore, as if to hold the flowing river. The white waves tear at the rocky banks, and the river comes alive, rocking the crescent-shaped reflection of the wooden boat.

Nong Tianyi played freely in the river with his friends, and the sky was as blue as a pure cotton cloth like printing and dyeing. In his spare time, the boatman would pick up his beloved dry tobacco pouch, add some yellowed tobacco leaves to the copper tobacco pot, and take a few deep puffs. He looked into the water, without the slightest expression, and his heart was probably all unfazed.

Under the steep crossing, the people on the ferry gathered in twos and threes, and under the traction of the oars stirred by the boatman, they reached the other shore again and again......

Going up along the ferry, you will step into a primeval forest, surrounded by green vines, which is wonderful.

In the mountains and forests, the sunlight has been covered with wide leaves, and the grass grows wildly underfoot. The mountain roads are gloomy and cool; The rocky slopes of the mountains are craggy and steep, and they are often desperate. Qing Teng held his own direction, broke out of the encirclement, and crawled towards the heavenly realm. Exclamation, in that moment was clearly superfluous vocalizations.

The roots of the green vine are very resolute, and they are stubbornly entangled in the center of a tree, climbing upwards, extending the dream, arching out of the sky. Stout or slender, the paths of life enrich the forest with green and dignified colors, and balance the natural ecological system.

There is no power like the green vine, which grows to grow, responds to the multiplicity, and sounds the horn of nature with the same green long tune.

Occasionally pass by the bluestone, and attach a rattan or a few leaves; Occasionally rise from the edge of the cliff and stretch out; Occasionally, it comes out in a straight line, and it is conditioned by other branches, and it is played on the topic. No matter what form it takes, Qingteng's survival ability is based on the premise of a certain chance, birth, or death, entangled in a pair of secondary bodies, entangled in the roots of trees.

Don't measure its pace with worldly sunglasses, and don't intimidate its lifeblood with clinging dependence. It is a unique species phenomenon of the existence of the heavenly principle - the vine entangles the vine and the vine entangles the tree.

As soon as Nong Tianyi came out of the dense forest, the green vines had climbed to the higher clouds. This is the top of the mountain where green tea comes out.

According to folklore, on the top of the green tea, there lived an old Taoist priest and a small Taoist priest. One day, the old Taoist priest sent the little Taoist priest down the mountain to purchase daily necessities. After the little Taoist priest finished his work, he saw that it was still early, so he walked around the market. Suddenly, I smelled an enticing aroma, and I saw that it was a beef seller. The little Taoist priest was so greedy that he couldn't help but buy a few catties.

On the way back to the mountain, the little Taoist priest went over the mountains and mountains, and he was hungry, and he was afraid that the master would find out and be punished, so he took out the beef and devoured it. When he slept at night, the little Taoist priest felt unbearable bloating and moaned.

The old Taoist priest came in and asked for the reason and left the house.

After a while, he brought a bowl of green and fragrant soup, and after the little Taoist priest drank it, he felt a gurgling sound in his stomach, and the bloating feeling disappeared magically.

The little Taoist priest turned over and knelt down to thank the master, and asked what he had just drunk.

The old Taoist priest smiled and said, "This is green tea." ”

Since then, the legend that there is a divine tea on the top of green tea has also been handed down.

The Danxia stone wall stands at the water's edge, and the reflection is clear, like a piece of orange juice poured down, which is very attractive. The green vines crawled deep vine marks on the stone wall. There are black muddy rubbings that print thick and thin paths, and irregular lines of different shades are drawn.

Looking at the cliff from a distance, it is full of bullet holes, separated by a layer of waterway, adding a natural heaviness.

At the back of the mountain, the berries are yellowish, light red, and sometimes dark green, distributed in a cascade shape, and are a wild orchard. The scattered bullet holes, fading on the mottled stone walls of history, are more like a non-luminous planet, gray and submerged.

The vermilion brown and heavy volume floated on the surface of the water, as if the endless smoke of gunpowder was diffused in the air, and a few drops of pungent smell rushed into Nong Tianyi's body.

Lin Mang, who was embraced by the Shibi clan in the deep mountains, seemed to see the gods descending from the sky, and the warriors who exorcised demons attacked from all directions. The night was dark and the wind was tight, and the mountain peaks swooped out like beasts, and this natural barrier, together with the brave warriors, fought a beautiful battle of annihilation.

They rowed a small boat and walked slowly along the bullet wall. Careful analysis shows that the bullet holes are either deep or shallow, some are densely packed, some are sparsely divided, and some are covered with several bullets fired on one bullet hole. When I touched it with my hand, it seemed that the flame of revenge was still surging, and it was hot and hot.

Some white stones, occasionally falling in between, resemble visiting stone eye beads. The erosion of wind and rain for many years has caused the stone wall to shed its shawl and lack a protective coat. Bullet holes are bullet holes after bullet holes, horizontal, vertical, crossed, and juxtaposed, like a map of enemy and enemy battles.

Looking back at this beautiful landscape, Nong Tianyi's heart felt an inexplicable sense of pain......