The Pale River has always been a story passed down by word of mouth among boatmen. They were afraid to talk about it on the river, or to take aboard a boat with writings about it. Discussing the secrets of the river in his presence was as dangerous as discussing the girls' temperaments on their own turf. The price of disrespect must be capsized - and what sinks in the pale river will never float again.
However, on the shore, the rules of the river are not so strict. The boatmen would rest behind hillsides or in the woods where the river was not visible, and exchange what they knew with each other.
There is no bottom under the river. said some boatmen. Once I used a very long pole, which was made of everlasting branches collected from the Green Rose Road. I let it grow at home for twenty years. Then I put it into the river and sank without touching anything.
The other boatmen expressed no surprise. There are too many versions of the story about He Shen. Each of them has some true or false story to tell.
The number of bubbles in the river water represents your luck today. said another boatman. This is not a new trick either. It is believed that the size and number of pearl bubbles indicate the extent of bad luck. The stories are endless. But no matter how many bubbles there are, there are always capsized ships.
There is only one story that is rarely discussed among boatmen. It’s not that there is no such thing, it’s just that few people who hear it believe it. No living person can ever know what the filth beneath the river is, or looks like. It is said that a man once put his head in the water and his boat immediately capsized. Someone made an ingenious observation device using luminous stones, lenses and tubes, and only extended its lower end into the river. Pearls began to grow in his eyes until the entire skin was burst. Another man took his child on board the boat but did not watch it carefully. When he lifted up the child's head from the river, the latter's face and hair disappeared without a trace.
There are so many versions of the story that it is difficult to tell whether they are true or false, but in the last story, the boatmen believe it to be true. At the mouth of the river with the gnarled tree, the child who fell into the river is still alive to this day. Its head is like a bumpy egg. It cannot speak and seems to be unable to hear sounds. People don't know how he breathed and ate. In fact, he might just be some other creature that happens to look like a human being, wearing a dirty and ragged woven robe for some reason, but the boatmen all believe that he is the child who fell into the river.
People tried to avoid him as much as possible because he had undoubtedly become some kind of "girls' thing." In some particularly gloomy weather, people would occasionally see him crawling out of the muddy and wet tree holes and wandering aimlessly along the river like a blind man. He's harmless, compared to other weirdos, but if anyone wanted to do anything about him, it would be a foolish idea. The wisest thing to do when faced with a monstrosity that the girls have not acknowledged as belonging to them is to remain respectful while staying away.
Don't spy on rivers where you can't see below the surface. Anyone who has seen the things that live in tree holes will agree with this. Make peace with your dreams until the time is right to join them again. Funerals were often held in rivers. For those who are not favored by the girls, they cannot be buried in places like Green Rose Road or Mi Ranye without permission. Bodies buried in the ground will have various encounters, and nothing is surprising - just being eaten or crawling up is not a big deal. What people are afraid of is the unpredictability. For example, the knotty-eye tree by the river was once called "Dover the Broken Leg," which was probably a hint as to its origin. But since everyone living nearby was dead, no one among the boatmen could tell the story clearly.
Sinking to the bottom of the river is a safer approach, at least on the surface. No matter what the opinions of the dead are, the peace of the living can be guaranteed. They can eat, drink and rest to their heart's content after the funeral, instead of rushing home anxiously to make sure their dead relative is not sitting at the door or at the table. This is so convenient. Therefore, although many people cry and beg their relatives not to throw their bodies into the bottom of the river from which there is no return, river-sinking funerals are always held again and again - life by the river is composed of various deception techniques.
They inevitably imagined that at some point far away from the river, the bodies were slowly sinking under the waves. They may move again, just as they did when buried in the earth. But they can't swim, so they just keep falling. In the process, they will begin to rot, and they may also fight with the fish monsters swimming by. The boatmen imagined them flexing their nails and opening and closing their teeth in the darkness, tearing flesh from the fish monster's dead white, scale-covered belly. The bitter stench will spread in the dark and cold water, as well as the rancid green blood and all the dirt that the flesh can produce. The bitter stench will spread in the dark and cold water, as well as the rancid and blue blood of patients, the deep purple or dark green flesh of the dead, the water bugs that hatched when bones melted, and all the filthy residue that may be produced by the dead remains. From ancient times to the present, they have all been piled up under the river.
That's going to be great. The boatmen all whispered to each other. It will definitely become wonderful, like the scenery on the Green Rose Road at its peak. As long as people take one look at them, they will forget how to return to the wild world, and they will become part of the roadside nourishment from then on. The boatmen discussed the matter with smiles, but their bodies shook with fear. Everyone on the Pale River knows how the world works: the accumulation of grotesques breeds more grotesques, and nothing attracts grotesques more easily than death. Under the river, where the deaths of the past and present have accumulated, no one knows what kind of things have been born there. Fortunately, what was at the bottom of the river never made it to the world above.
The master sat on a stone on the shore and waited. The blue-gray round stone with slender scars was once called the "Heart of Bilaleva Gashiku". The origin of this name is as unknown as the knob-eye tree. But when the old man sat on the stone, he stared at the shadow under the stone and showed a smile that the world could not understand. He silently used his fingers to drop a name on the surface of the stone - Alan Mings.
You deserved this baby, didn't you? he asked happily to the stone beneath him. He should belong to you, but it's a pity that foreigners don't follow the rules. What a disgraceful theft!
Under the pearly waves, the person pulled by the spirit of mist was falling under the river surface. The truth about what he witnessed down the river was actually exactly the opposite of what the boatmen imagined. He sank in the light gray river water, but it felt like he had landed in some empty place. The flow of water is just a form of illusion. A visual container for the grotesque. In the depths of the pale river, where even the fear monsters and fish monsters dare not swim, the answer is nothing. Life and everything else disappears here. Light or perception. self. Everything is extinguished one by one, returning to the mother bed of chaos.
That's just one answer. Regarding the secrets under the river, perhaps only the people in the mountains can see this scene. Halfway to the sea of nightmares, he would fall into a deep, indefinite sleep. That is different from death, when the invisible thread tightens, he will still return from the mirror. Go back to the seaside or the mountains and fill in the gaps. But now, everything is sinking. All things return to nothing.
He should go "there". No one is more suitable than him. After ten vicious levels, the door is still quietly closed. Never look. Never knock. That promise has left him with his life.
But where did that come from? On the river bank. Perhaps there was a loud sound coming from a more distant place. A crisp, thumping sound of hooves. A bright red sparkle blooming on a silver branch. Someone roared like thunder.
"The little ghost--the little ghost--is under the bell! Oh! Wait--no? Yes? No? Yaray! I can't tell--tell me which one he is!"
