Huangguoshu Waterfall

     What kind of tree is Huangguoshu? The tour guide, focused solely on her sales commission, didn't mention it at all. But I know. I've known it since I was little. As soon as I approached Huangguoshu Waterfall and heard its roar, I thought of someone—my cousin from the countryside. It's a strange thing; my thoughts, both past and present, intertwined in front of this largest waterfall in Asia.

    The reason I thought of my cousin is that I first learned about Huangguoshu Waterfall from a picture book I read as a child, and she was the one who took me there and explained it to me; I was probably just old enough to understand things then, definitely not in elementary school yet. I'm sure of this because my cousin attended elementary school in Xiamen and then returned to her hometown in Zhangpu. My long-held memory of my cousin is of her helping with housework while crying and calling "Mommy...".

    Perhaps because my aunt had many children in the countryside, or perhaps because the three of us kids needed help, my cousin came to Xiamen to attend elementary school while helping with housework. People today might wonder what kind of help an elementary school student could do, but back then, my cousin did a lot of chores like washing clothes and mopping floors.

    Back then, Xiamen had many comic book shops; a book cost one cent and you could only sit and read it inside. Looking back, I realize my cousin at that age actually loved comic books and asked her grandmother for a cent under the pretense of taking me with her. I remember only reading folk tales, myths, and legends. The story of Huangguoshu Waterfall is one of those I read.

    It's amazing that a single comic book could stay with me from preschool to old age. Therefore, visiting Huangguoshu Waterfall in Guiyang has been a long-held wish of mine.

    Although Huangguoshu Waterfall isn't among the world's most famous waterfalls, it's considered one of the world's most wondrous. It allows you to view it from six sides: above, below, left, right, front, and back. So, viewing this waterfall requires constant walking. Because the moment you stop, someone will bump into you from behind. When you've seen it from all sides and reached the bottom of the valley, you understand why the Japanese tourists were screaming with amazement all the way down. The five words, "Water comes from the sky," perfectly describe the scene. You have to speak loudly or the other person won't hear you. The water, like the Yellow River hanging upside down, "pours" down from a height of seventy or eighty meters. Everything is a white blur, only the rising mist and the rainbows painted by the sunlight remind you that you're still in the human world.

    Thinking back to when the car passed the Baishui River upstream of the waterfall, its surface as smooth as silk, I can hardly believe that nature can create such a dramatic and awe-inspiring contrast with such a seemingly insignificant movement! The cascading water is white, different from the emerald green I saw in the river earlier. Suddenly, I think of Li Bai's poem: "My white hair is three thousand feet long, because my sorrow is so long. I wonder in the mirror, where did this autumn frost come from?

    " Is the Baishui River also sorrowful? Perhaps it simply wanted to flow quietly, unwilling to perform this spectacular leap that would attract countless onlookers? I don't know. Just as I don't know what impact it would have had on my cousin's life if she hadn't insisted on returning to her rural hometown. I remember my cousin, after she grew up and went to high school, saying to me, "Sigh, if only I hadn't gone back to the countryside..." But I know she definitely would have gone back. That was her home. Her parents were there.

   Not long ago, I went back to my hometown in Zhangpu and saw my cousin. She was now an old woman with a full head of gray hair. But she had raised both of her sons to university, making up for her regret of not being able to go to university because of the Cultural Revolution after graduating from high school. My cousin is a village doctor, always cheerful, busy with her work, without a trace of worry.

   Leaving Huangguoshu Waterfall, I noticed that most people were walking quickly, with no intention of lingering. Perhaps the thunderous roar was uncomfortable for their senses, or perhaps the nearly one-hour walk around had caused aesthetic fatigue. In short, the scenery of the waterfall is different from other beautiful and picturesque landscapes; the waterfall is hitting you, not nourishing you like other beautiful scenery...

   because, in essence, a waterfall is just a broken river.