The Strange Bridge of Liao City draws on a real legend about the Qiyi Bridge in Liao City, southern Henan, using half a century of obsession as its lifeblood to paint a waterlogged portrait of the mortal world. On a rainy night, delivery rider Chen Moyu discovers a snake-shaped mark on his neck, a sign that he is destined to inherit the bridge keeper’s red cord. Beneath the bridge lies the body of Wang Jianjun, a steel fixer who drowned in 1968, along with the last words he never got to say. In the whirlpool surrounding the missing dragon carving floats half a skirt belonging to a mysterious girl once encountered by an old vegetable seller. The bite marks found on the necks of those who drown each year are history’s wounds on the present, still unhealed.
The story is haunted by dead souls lifting river lanterns, bridge keepers hiding names in cotton seeds, and a Tang dynasty soldier who becomes a serpent to guard a proclamation. When the demolition crew’s drill pierces the bridge pier, the sleeping dragon carving opens its eyes amid the blood-red light. Forgotten names, Zhang Guilan’s blue cotton jacket, Wang the Lame’s jujube-wood cane, and the fading red of Brother Wang’s motorcycle taillight, join together across the cresting waves to form a bridge.
This is no simple tale of the strange and supernatural. When Chen Mo plants cotton seeds in the ruins of the new bridge, and Niannian carves “Where bloodstains bloom, year after year is the human world” into a stone tablet, they understand: every eerie legend comes from a heart misunderstood, and every supernatural act of protection ultimately points to a simple belief: if the bridge is not straight, the river will not be calm; if the heart is not sincere, the soul cannot rest.
The river of history still flows, carrying cotton seeds, paper ash, and the sighs beneath the bridge piers. Are you ready to cross this bridge?
