Stream Valley, Boulders, Yellow Butterflies: The Shueidiping of Zhong Lihe's Writings

Text / Photos: Qiu Jinghui

Around the Dragon Boat Festival is the season when yellow butterflies (yellow pierid butterflies) emerge en masse. Whenever the morning sun warms their wings, the yellow blades begin to flutter, adding a pleasant yellow-green ribbon to the hot summer days. Yellow butterflies are always the most vivid memory of the emerald valley, leading people to mistakenly believe that as long as the butterfly's host plant, the Siamese senna (Senna siamea, also known as the iron-wood tree), is well cared for, Meinong's pride can continue to be displayed - while neglecting that the Shuangxi waters are the true mother that nurtures all things.

The Meinong Yellow Butterfly Emerald Valley, which the people of Meinong call Shuangxi (Double Creek), actually contains more than just two streams. Shuangxi is a "jia river" - the Hakka term for the confluence of two streams is "jia." Upstream of Shuangxi, the Liuxiukeng, Fashikeng, and Xiannikeng streams also converge. The other two independent streams are the Dongshikeng Stream in front of the Butterfly Earth God shrine, and the Shueidiping below Pingmei Bridge at the entrance to the Zhong Lihe Memorial Hall, in front of Chaoyuan Temple.

Shueidiping is the "Modao River" (Knife-Sharpening River) of Zhong Lihe's writings. A small tributary of Shueidiping connects with Liuxiukeng, forming the Teak Path. In "The Poor Couple," it is described how Pingmei, to make a living, followed the villagers in risking a trip into the mountains to illegally cut teak. To evade the investigation of the Forestry Bureau, they abandoned the gentle Liuxiukeng Stream and chose instead to climb the steep mountain ridge on the other side, tracing the stream down from Shueidiping. From the 1950s to the present, Shueidiping has still maintained the landscape of a stone gate. The novel "Lishan Farm" describes the stone gate as follows:

This place is deep and secluded, with two great boulders standing tall facing each other on either bank of the river, like a gate. The gate is very narrow and very steep, the water rushing down like a cascade. Once out of the gate, the river channel widens, and so the water slows down. Large rocks lie crisscrossed in the river, like a herd of cattle that has burst out of the pen, jostling shoulder to shoulder. The tall trees on both banks arch over like a canopy, with a cool breeze swirling below. The vines are long and thick, shaped like dragons, hanging all the way to the ground. — "Lishan Farm," Chapter 2

This year, in March, April, and May, once each, we for the first time walked into this literary stream valley by wading upstream on foot.

In March, the old blood vine (Ventilago elegans) stems reaching toward the sky bore cup-shaped purple-red flowers; because the flowering period is rarely seen and very short, our companions exclaimed how lucky we were. By June it was already the fruiting stage, yet beside it a wax flower (Hoya) had quietly bloomed. April is the driest season across all of Taiwan, yet Shueidiping unexpectedly had many small pools. A crab that had waited a long time finally caught a stream fish with its large claws as breakfast. The fish and shrimp in the pools continued to wait for rain, connecting their separate habitats. We chose a large rock to stop and prepare lunch, and asked a young child to read aloud a passage from the novel:

Qiongmei sat on a rock overhanging the pool, looking down at the pool water. The pool was blue-green, utterly clear, and the swimming fish in the water could be counted distinctly. White minnows the size of a little finger kept surfacing, unexpectedly doing a somersault, then another somersault. Shrimp crouched at the bottom of the pool, their two large legs clumsily stirring in front. Some - always the big ones - hid under rock crevices, sticking out only their heads, with two black dots - those were their eyes - suspiciously peering at the trembling fragments of sunlight settling at the bottom of the pool, as if posing a question to themselves: what is that bright thing? — "Lishan Farm," Chapter 8

In Lishan Farm, there is the mountain spirit Rao Xinhua, who not only knows how to catch eels but also knows how to sniff leaves and feel tree bark to identify directions in the mountains. This is also the mountain forest where villagers gather mountain palm leaves to make brooms and use the golden gourd vine to wash clothing, and it is even the stream valley where they hunt wild animals. Here all things live off the mountain and take what they need, each receiving nourishment.

They passed through aquatic swamps; through gloomy and dark great forests drifting with the smell of decay; past standing thorny bamboo groves, and the source of the Modao River gushing with rust-colored brackish water. They saw monkeys, squirrels, and serows fleeing in terror from beside them or from the treetops. Sometimes these animals did not show themselves, and you could only hear the crashing sounds they made in the forest as they fled in panic. — "Lishan Farm," Chapter 14

Tracing upstream along Shueidiping, time seems to return to the Modao River of Zhong Lihe's writings in the 1950s.

The Zhong Lihe Memorial Hall was built alongside Lishan and by the banks of the Modao River. The poets Zeng Guihai and Zhong Yongfeng, and the singer Lin Shengxiang, last year used the literary music album "Earth Study" to remember this farmer and writer of the land. Following the light and shadow of the papaya trees, the writer moved his desk - a wooden board; along Shueidiping, we imagine the former prosperity of Lishan Farm, continuing to construct the modern meaning of literary Lishan and landscape preservation.