This is a century-long chronicle of life along the river bend.
It begins with Great-Grandpa clutching a river stone as he stands before a breach in the levee, continues with Grandma carving river songs onto bamboo slips, then follows Grandpa as he measures the passing years with half a heart token. At last, Shuisheng and Qinghe take up the oar, still warm with the touch of three generations, on the shallows where silver fish swim.
There are no grand legends here, only the cares hidden in the reed beds, the grit lodged in the cracks between stones, and the river wind whispering again and again about "keeping" and "passing things on."
Every drop of water here remembers: the pain of the sand dredgers' arrival, the warmth of the silver fish returning, and the children's soft, sigh-like "goodbye" as they set fallen leaves afloat on the river.
When all is said and done, it's just a clear bend in the river, a group of people who watch over it, and a life endlessly brushed by the river wind, forever fresh and vivid.
