Finding the water eye, setting up the water raft, and opening the path with the yin song.
Zong Hang was completely confused, and Yi Sa only half understood. After all, they were from different surnames. Although they understood the procedure, they couldn’t fully grasp what it meant until they saw it with their own eyes.
She pulled Zong Hang aside and whispered: “When we get in the water, don’t worry about anything else, just hold onto Ding Yudie first.”
Zong Hang understood immediately.
This Jin Tang Cave must have an automatic selection mechanism that only accepts qualified people: they must be from the three surnames and must be water ghosts.
Both he and Yi Sa weren’t quite qualified, which was why they were thrown into the clam hole at the Old Temple last time and almost became food for the shells. This time, they had to be smarter.
It was nearly midnight.
At least four to five hundred sheep bladder light balls had been blown up, clustered together in large bunches. The translucent bladders contained green dots that gathered and dispersed, creating an eerie yet magnificent sight. Ding Panling assigned several people to take half of the light balls to the opposite bank of the channel, facing this side. He then had Ding Xi lead people to move the sheepskin raft to the water’s edge.
This sheepskin raft had twelve seats, though “seats” didn’t refer to passenger capacity but rather to the number of “huntuo”: “hun” meaning “whole” and “tuo” meaning “skinned.” Skilled butchers could remove a sheep’s internal organs while keeping the skin completely intact. After treating the skin, they would inflate it until it maintained the sheep’s shape – this was called a “huntuo,” and each huntuo counted as one “seat.”
A twelve-seat sheepskin raft consisted of twelve inflated hollow sheep carcasses tied into a square shape, with a wooden frame on top for squatting or lying down. The raft was old, and the inflated sheepskins had turned a dark soy sauce color, appearing ghostly when illuminated by the lights, with an oily sheen.
When the elderly man who had been resting with closed eyes suddenly opened them, Zong Hang felt his blood surge inexplicably, sensing that the unlocking of Jin Tang was about to begin.
Indeed, it started with offering incense to the water. Incense sticks were lit, and their bases quickly secured to the railings along the shore with heated and softened wax. The two parallel lines of incense extended forty to fifty meters on both sides of the channel, with smoke rising in thin wisps, becoming turbulent when hit by the water’s vapor.
Next, light balls were released simultaneously from both sides.
Hundreds of light balls scattered above the dragon channel, some falling, some rising, some tumbling continuously in the large waves. People on both sides watched intently, searching for something, occasionally breaking into excited shouts: “Here! No, no, over there, that one looks right!”
Yi Sa grabbed Ding Yudie and asked: “Is this how your Ding family finds the water eye?”
“Yes.”
“How do you find it?”
Ding Yudie was too excited, his eyes fixed on the countless floating fireflies, lacking the patience to explain: “Oh, just watch and you’ll see!”
Bullshit, Yi Sa thought angrily, wanting to kick him into the water.
Hearing this, Ding Panling explained from the side: “A water eye is a stable point in turbulent water. Think of it this way: a tornado destroys everything in its path, but its center has less destructive force. When you have a tangled mess of thread, it seems impossible to unravel, but if you can find the crucial end, one pull will solve everything.”
“Similarly, the founding master believed that the more chaotic the water, the more likely there is a fulcrum point where one can stand or anchor a boat. This point is called the water eye…”
Before he could finish, shouts erupted again, with Ding Yudie yelling the loudest: “That one! That one! That one!”
Yi Sa looked in that direction.
She saw it. Of the light balls released so far, more than half had been swept away by the water, while others burst in mid-air, their fireflies barely having time to fly before being struck down by the waves. Only a few dozen remained, barely surviving, floating high and low, swaying back and forth.
But one stood out – it had landed on the water and kept swaying without leaving its position. Even when external forces flattened and stretched it, it remained in place, like a flower bud on a branch, swaying left and right in wind and rain but never moving from its spot.
Ding Panling’s body tensed as he shouted: “That’s it! Ding Xi!”
He strode toward the raft while rolling up his sleeves. Yi Sa was slightly surprised: this unremarkable-looking Ding Panling had quite a robust physique hidden under his clothes, no less impressive than Ding Xi, who was twenty-some years his junior.
The two men positioned themselves on opposite sides of the sheepskin raft, bent down with great effort to lift it, and began swinging it in an arc before throwing, their eyes fixed on the light ball that could disappear at any moment. Ding Panling commanded in a deep voice: “On my count – one, two, three!”
As soon as “three” was uttered, the raft flew out.
The previously noisy crowd suddenly fell silent. Yi Sa held her breath, staring intensely at the raft’s trajectory, certain it would be overturned by the waves at any second, her scalp tingling with anticipation…
But surprisingly, after being hit by several waves and nearly capsizing, the raft stabilized in the raging current! Though not entirely steady, spinning like a bowl balanced on a needle tip, it neither drifted away nor flipped over!
Cheers erupted instantly, with Ding Yudie leading the applause. Yi Sa breathed a sigh of relief, having to admit it was quite an impressive feat.
Looking back at Zong Hang, he was watching intently with his mouth agape. After a while, he mumbled: “Your family’s skill could qualify as intangible cultural heritage.”
Ding Yudie turned to look at him, appearing as proud as if he had thrown the raft himself: “This is nothing, keep watching!”
Keep watching? They’d found the water eye and secured the raft – next should be “opening the path with the yin song,” right?
Zong Hang looked up at the elderly singer.
He was now standing at the channel’s edge, a folded red paper umbrella under one arm and a lit kerosene lamp in the other hand. The steel cable needed adjustment – the current one was too far from the unstable raft below and needed to align the point and line on the same plane.
While people helped adjust, others assisted the old man in putting on a harness with hooks that could connect to the pulleys on the steel cable.
Zong Hang felt a chill down his spine: wasn’t this like the “zip lines” seen on TV in remote areas? How could someone this old handle such a thing?
As it turned out, that was exactly what they were doing.
While Zong Hang was worried, the old man remained calm. Two young men from the Ding family acted as rope handlers, slowly moving the pulley device connected to the harness to lower the old man along the steel cable.
The old man’s slightly hunched figure soon moved out, swaying like bait on a fishing rod. When he was roughly above the raft, the pulley stopped, and he activated the mechanism on the hook to release the suspension rope, slowly lowering himself down.
Zong Hang looked down. The old man’s figure was barely visible now, only the light from his kerosene lamp could be seen. The Yellow River’s huge waves hidden in the darkness below truly looked like huge rising and falling mouths, ready to swallow that light at any moment.
Just then, Ding Panling said: “You’ll be going down the same way later.”
Zong Hang’s heart jumped: this wasn’t just unlocking Jin Tang – it was risking their lives at every step. Compared to this, the Yangtze River’s ritual was gentler. The northerners and their rivers were indeed more rugged.
But this thought quickly passed as his attention returned to what was happening below.
The old man was almost on the raft.
Damn, how could anyone stay steady on that? The raft was bouncing like it had severe ADHD – although he knew “don’t take on porcelain work without golden skills,” Zong Hang instinctively closed his eyes, like avoiding a gruesome scene in a horror movie, preferring to miss it rather than face it directly.
When he carefully opened his eyes again, the old man was already standing on the raft. Not only that, but he had opened the red umbrella, with the kerosene lamp’s light filtering through from beneath, like a gentle crimson oil floating among the surging waters, swaying unstably.
Ding Yudie clicked his tongue: “Amazing, ‘feet growing roots on the turbulent raft’ – I’m worst at this move. During practice, I’d get thrown off in less than a minute, let alone managing an umbrella in one hand and a lamp in the other.”
Ding Panling said quietly: “He still has to sing the yin song later. That’s why we say everyone has their strengths and specialties – being a water ghost isn’t that extraordinary.”
Just then, footsteps approached from behind.
Looking back, it was Ding Changsheng, who hadn’t been seen all evening, carrying a large long box.
Ding Panling stared at the box: “Did you bring the ancestor tablet?”
“Yes.”
So this must contain the Ding ancestor tablet. Zong Hang craned his neck, eager to see it, but Ding Panling didn’t open it, just gestured toward the pillar.
Ding Changsheng went directly over, and soon the pulley moved out again, but this time it wasn’t carrying a person – from the outline, Zong Hang could tell it was an ancestor tablet.
The tablet was also positioned just above the raft. In that dim light, the steel cable and suspension line were invisible, leaving only the tablet’s clear outline, as if floating in mid-air.
Then the singing began.
Zong Hang’s first reaction was to cover his ears, thinking it was chaotic, neither musical nor melodic.
But just as he raised his hands, he lowered them again. Not because the singing had become more pleasant, but because he suddenly realized this song didn’t seem like it could be sung by one person.
The beginning part sounded like village spirit dancing, with humming and ha-ing, then the sound became complex, with long bells ringing, drums playing, coquettish female voices, frivolous male voices, old men coughing, and the murmuring of theater audiences. The miscellaneous sounds mixed with the surging water created a boiling sound wave, making people feel dizzy as if their souls had left their bodies and were present in the scene. But with a sudden shiver, they’d realize there was only one raft and one old man below – where did all those sounds come from?
Cold sweat seeped from Zong Hang’s temples, and his arm hair stood on end and wouldn’t go down: he felt the old man’s song had summoned countless spirits from the Yellow River’s bottom, floating and scattering, singing mournfully while clinging to the raft, just invisible to him.
Midway through, the sound suddenly contracted to a single voice line. Though not loud, it was extremely tricky, seeming to twist and weave through the waves, always finding a gap to break through no matter how one tried to suppress or cover it.
It was hard to imagine how the old man’s voice worked – when the sound reached its thinnest and highest point, without any buffer, it instantly transformed into a deep, hoarse tone, like a desperate old man, wailing to heaven and earth in misery.
On both sides of the channel, almost everyone stood motionless, as if entranced by the song.
Only Yi Sa’s mind wandered – she was prone to distraction. Halfway through listening, she began looking around, her gaze sometimes resting on the red umbrella, sticking to the ancestor tablet.
At the bottom of Poyang Lake, Jiang Jun had pushed the water as if entering a code on a combination lock – when the code was correct, the Jin Tang Cave opened.
But what about down here in the dragon channel? Once in the water, they could barely stay steady, let alone “push water,” and why sing the yin song? With all this chaos and the waterfall creating a “hundred-zhang drum” sound…
Yi Sa’s heart suddenly skipped a beat.
Could it be that the combination lock at the bottom of the Yellow River was “voice-activated”?
It was possible. In the Shanxi-Shaanxi region, umbrella yangko was famous, but the umbrella yin song was unique to the Ding family. Singers were trained from childhood, learning only this one song. The song completely defied logic and convention, seeming impossible for humans to sing. Even if someone overheard it, they’d struggle to imitate even one line, let alone remember it from start to finish.
The umbrella in song at the water eye, combined with the hundred-zhang water sound from all sides, plus the suspended ancestor tablet – perhaps the tablet wrapped in this sound formation was the crucial “string” that, once plucked, could transmit some information downward…
Just then, the old man on the raft suddenly looked up.
There was no sound in his ears anymore.
His body was still swaying, his feet still unsteady, but in his ears, there was no sound at all, complete silence.
Then came the sound of dripping on the umbrella, first one or two drops, then gradually becoming chaotic, with endless dripping sounds, as if thousands of rain lines were striking the glowing crimson umbrella surface.
The old man used all his strength to shout: “It’s open!”
At these words, while others remained calm, Ding Yudie rushed like an anxious chicken to the pillar, urging people to hook him up.
Yi Sa sighed and shook her hands before going over. As Zong Hang was about to follow, Ding Panling stepped forward and handed him something sealed in a waterproof bag.
Zong Hang held it up to the light.
A… camera?
Ding Panling seemed to guess what he was thinking: “The most basic film camera, you probably haven’t seen one before, also called an idiot camera – just press one button. I heard electronic devices don’t work down there, so something less advanced might… actually come in handy.”