Kaijiang Rende Bridge

Kaijiang Rende Bridge

Rende Bridge is a Sichuan Province cultural relics protection unit.

Rende Bridge is the earliest built and largest single-arch stone bridge in Kaijiang County (Meijia Township, Kaijiang County), with an internal span diameter of 30 meters, a height of 15 meters, and a width of 7.70 meters. It has a total of 74 stone steps. It has been listed as a county-level cultural relics protection unit.

Built in the second year of the Daoguang era (1822 AD), Kaijiang Rende Bridge is the largest single-arch stone bridge in the county. Located in the middle section of Meijia Township, 27 kilometers east of the county seat, it has stood intact over the past 200 years on the Shuicheng River.

In early winter, we stepped up the stone stairs one by one toward the bridge deck. The once sharp edges of the thick stones had long worn down, and their smooth surfaces glimmered with faint white light. The deck was wide and flat, easily accommodating hundreds of people. Standing by the railing and running my hand over the sturdy stone slabs, I admired the pomegranate trees growing in the crevices along the railing. Locals said these trees were planted when the bridge was built—almost two hundred years ago—which explained their aged appearance. Though they seemed to fruit every year, they never really grew much thicker. One tree on the south side had reportedly been chopped down and even set ablaze at the stump. Yet within months new shoots sprouted from the stump—but the man who did it died mysteriously shortly after.

An elderly man with white hair strolling on the bridge told us that the two pomegranate trees together looked like a flying dragon. Pointing to the southern one, he added, “See how the upward-curving trunk at the stump resembles the gaping upper jaw of a dragon? Shame the lower part was destroyed—that would’ve been the chin.” Squinting as he spoke, I could indeed see the resemblance—the gnarled trunk looked like the open mouth of a dragon, its bushy branches like bristling whiskers. He then gestured to the northern tree, calling it the dragon’s tail. As a gentle breeze swept through, the branches rustled. For a moment, it felt as though both trees and the stone slabs beneath our feet were swaying, as if the dragon were dancing and soaring over the waters of Shuicheng River.

The old man told us that there used to be no bridge over the Shuicheng River—all around grew plum trees. Densely packed, they leaned toward the river, lush and leafy, completely shading its surface. Summer often brought torrential rains, and the rising floodwaters cut off access between the two riverbanks. Those in urgent need of crossing, watching the waters rise relentlessly, grew desperate. Eventually, some brave souls began to cross by clinging to the plum trees. The scene must have been harrowing—raging waves roared like a bloodthirsty dragon, lunging at the plum trees on either shore. Each tree seemed seized by the beast, its branches yanked suddenly into the murky current before straining upward to endure the next wave. The young men hanging on were like swings in a gale, sometimes plunging low, other times jerking upward, their hands gripping the branches like iron clamps. Tragedies occurred frequently along the river because of this, and locals dreamed ceaselessly of a bridge being built over the Shuicheng.

At that time, the prominent Luo family of Meijiaba, residing on the eastern bank of the Shuicheng River, had invited a feng shui master to seek greater prosperity for their clan. The master turned out to be highly skilled and discovered that a natural stone dragon upstream in the river was about to drift downstream. This stone dragon had been guarding the upper reaches, ensuring the Luo family’s growth and wealth. But if the dragon were to leave, decline would soon follow. The master revealed this secret to the head of the Luo family. The three Luo brothers—Luo Diancheng, Luo Kuncheng, and Luo Yucheng—were philanthropic local gentry who had long considered building a bridge over the river. Hearing the feng shui master’s warning, they decided immediately to construct a stone arch bridge: first, to anchor the stone dragon and ensure enduring family fortune, and second, to provide convenience for local residents.

The Luo family’s initiative was welcomed by the locals, and skilled craftsmen from surrounding areas volunteered to help. To truly bind the stone dragon, a sword meant to slay dragons was hung precisely at the center beneath the arch upon completion. The sword was forged from raw iron and has long since corroded and fallen away. However, during dry seasons, visitors can still faintly see the hole in the stone where it was suspended. The Luos also designed the arch bridge in the shape of a sedan chair canopy, symbolizing hopes that more scholars would ride in style out of Meijia and into the county seat. Listing luminaries who’d come from Meijia since the bridge’s construction, the old man tapped his fingers with pride.

Listening to him, we stared in astonishment—could Rende Bridge really have such a legendary history? We studied the polished, clean stone slabs of the bridge deck, the moss-speckled horizontal stones lining the railing, then descended to the riverbank for a better view. The curved stone arch resembled a gigantic round gate embedded firmly between the banks. Layer upon layer of masonry rose from top to bottom, from the center outwards—no piers, not even a single mortise and tenon joint. Weathered by wind and rain, the stones had faded to a greyish-white, some patches tinged with rust, as if smoke had scorched them. Yet the joints between each block fit perfectly—and over two centuries, not a single crack had formed.

Back on the bridge, we marveled at the arch’s elegance and sturdiness—and at the wisdom and craftsmanship of ancient builders. The old man chuckled and credited it all to a mysterious stone pig trough, launching into another tale.

When construction neared its end, the final keystone atop the arch stumped the workers. No matter how often they measured, the chosen stones were always too big, too small, too wide, or too narrow. After days of discussion under the bridge with no solution in sight, the masons prepared to call it a day—just as a ragged old stonemason, carrying a wicker basket, approached. He looked the bridge over and asked to stay the night. The foreman frowned and waved him off. Disappointed, the old man trudged away toward town—until the sky darkened beyond a mile-marker. There, beside a lone mud house, a kind old woman took pity on him and invited him in for supper. Grateful, he inquired after her pigs, which she complained weren’t growing. Promising to craft a feeding trough that would make them eat and grow faster, he stood to leave. Surprised, she said there was no stone outside—but before she finished, he returned with a foot-long slab. By lamplight, the old man chiseled away and soon shaped the trough. Before leaving the next dawn, he told her the stone trough could serve as a keystone for the bridge—if anyone tried to buy it, she should demand exactly 20 taels of silver, no more, no less. The grateful woman thanked him profusely. When news of the magical trough reached the workers, they rushed to buy it and fitted it into the gap with trepidation. The moment it slid in, it snapped tightly into place—perfectly aligned, as if born to be there…

Spellbound by his story, we marveled at how one small stone arch bridge carried so many legends. These tales reflected the heartfelt wishes of ancient people; layer by layer, they enriched the bridge’s timeless charm. Rende Bridge stands like a frozen rainbow above the Shuicheng River—or a drawn bow, its curve resting on both banks. There it remains, bearing the footsteps of passersby on its arched back, the beat of rain and wind on its smooth surface, and the slow crinkle of years on its weathered face.

Protected area: 5 meters outward from both the east and west ends of the bridge, 20 meters outward from the central axis on the north and south.

Construction control zone: 6 meters outward from the protected area.

Further reading:

· Eighth Batch of Sichuan Provincial Cultural Relics Protection Units