【Fuyuan City, Heilongjiang ~ Night Mooring in Fuyuan】

The waters of the Heilongjiang River, even at the edge of Fuyuan City, remain just as dark. Some say the water is ink-black, and this must be what they mean. Standing by the riverbank, gazing at the water, I couldn't help but feel it wasn’t flowing—it was more like a solidified slab of black jade, swallowing the reflections of sky and clouds. As night deepened, lights along the river flickered on—neither too bright nor too numerous, scattered sparsely like careless handfuls of shattered gold. Willow branches drooped by the shore, swaying gently in the breeze, their shadows cast onto the river only to be devoured whole by the dark water, without so much as a ripple. Few visitors wandered about, speaking in hushed tones. An old man squatted on the stone steps, smoking; the glow of his cigarette pulsed dimly in the darkness, its reflection in the water like twin stars. Occasionally, a distant ship’s horn sounded, muffled and drawn-out, like a sigh rising from the riverbed. Across the river lay Russian territory, a pitch-black expanse with only faint pinpricks of light, even sparser than on this side. A single boundary river, two nations—yet the water shared the same darkness, the night the same stillness. Leaning against the stone railing, I suddenly spotted a waterbird skimming the surface, its wings beating faintly before vanishing in an instant. This night, this river—it seemed as though they had been this way for millennia, unmoved by the comings and goings of people. Late into the night, the wind carried a damp chill. I rose to leave, the Heilongjiang River flowing silently behind me, swallowing all light and sound into its fathomless dark.