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Leaving Shanping Town and walking two miles eastward, you will reach Benlongtan. The Pingshui River meandered through three states and five counties. It could no longer endure the low and gentle rhythm, so it concentrated its strength and split the Qingzhu Ridge, breaking out a steep gorge several miles long and rushing down. Suddenly the whitecaps rolled and the sound of the water was like thunder; meteorites rained down on the large and small rocks on the beach, adding a third degree of mystery and a certain degree of danger to the waterway. It made the trackers going up have aching muscles and bones, and the boatmen going down were frightened. Therefore, there were brave men who were familiar with the water conditions of the beach road. They replaced the helmsmen and rafters in the launching boats in this section of the river. They held up a long steel-tipped pole to prop up the roadblocks in the river, and took advantage of the rapids like a rushing dragon to sail the wooden boat through the dangerous shoals. The river Han who eats this bowl of rice is called "Tanke".

The South China Sea in 1943. Early spring in February. A wooden boat was carried by the dark blue waves and sailed hard to an unnamed island far away from the land. Six strong, dark-skinned men were squatting on the boat. They were a group of Cai people who were making a living on the cliffs of the island. Cave swallow? Snowwollen people. The white-haired old man in the middle, Boss Lin, is their leader. At this moment, he is holding an empty pipe and looking at the approaching island with a melancholy expression. A wisp of light smoke rose from under the blue-gray cliff. "Afu has arrived early!" The Malay Bim said happily, lowered the main sail, picked up a wooden oar and rowed hard. The boat slowly drilled through the rocks and rowed to the bottom of the cliff.