The "Mermaid" of the Nandu River

The "Mermaid" of the Nandu River

　　The "Mermaid" of the Nandu River

　　The Nandu River is a river that flows between two large mountains. In winter, its waters are not very abundant, quietly meandering southward. Spanning the Nandu River is an arched bridge that connects the highway, which we often have to cross. On both sides of the bridge sit several small farmhouses. The "mermaid" of the Nandu River I want to talk about was discovered here.

　　You must be wondering, is the "mermaid" of the Nandu River a person or an object? Or perhaps some kind of monster that lives in the Nandu River? Hehe.

　　Well, they do indeed live in the Nandu River, but they are not monsters. They are small fish caught by the locals in the river. But why do I call them "mermaids"? There’s a reason for that.

　　The "mermaids" of the Nandu River are about 10 centimeters long, pitch black in color, with slender, gracefully curved bodies and agile movements. Catching them takes some effort. You might say, “What’s so special about that? They’re just like ordinary fish.” Hmm, well, let me tell you—the beauty of the Nandu River "mermaids" isn’t in their appearance, but in the rich, aromatic fish soup made from them, and in the beautiful scenery of the Nandu River itself.

　　On the west side of the Nandu River Bridge is a restaurant, right by the roadside. As soon as we got out of the car and walked in, the restaurant owner warmly welcomed us. She served us tea, poured water, and showed us to our seats. Since we were regulars,

　　the owner already knew what we wanted—of course, it was this "mermaid" fish soup. After seating us, she busied herself in the kitchen. Often during this waiting time, I’d stand by the window with a cup of tea, admiring the beautiful scenery of the Nandu River. Water flows downhill, and people strive upward. So I often think the waters of the Nandu River must flow southward into larger rivers, eventually reaching sea level and merging with the ocean. The area around the Nandu River is surrounded by towering, rugged mountains.

　　The setting is quite dramatic, and the bridge spanning the highway looks like a graceful swallow ready to take flight. If it were summer, I’d definitely be tempted to climb down under the bridge,

　　scoop up a handful of the clear river water, watch the lively fish darting about, and sing a cheerful Tujia folk song. Just as I’m lost in thought, the restaurant owner would already be calling us to take our seats. And every time, everyone would eagerly gather around the steaming hot stove.

　　At first, I didn’t think much of the fish. I figured what kind of decent dish could come out of a simple farmhouse? When I first saw the pot of fish soup, I didn’t pay it much attention. About a dozen black fish were neatly piled in the pot, all heads facing inward in a circle. Surrounding them was a soup with a texture almost like milk, but slightly yellowish. Before the rice was even served, our friend Luo Ge said to the owner, “Give me an extra bowl and spoon!” I found that strange, and Luo Ge explained, “The fish soup here is really good.” That’s when I started to take a closer look at the pot of soup. Though it wasn’t the creamy white color many chefs boast about, it looked natural, as if it were meant to be just that. The fish had been simmered until tender and soft, almost melting into the soup, giving it a rich, hearty feel. Tentatively, I scooped up a spoonful with a small spoon and put it in my mouth—and I was immediately won over by the flavor. The soup carried the fresh, savory taste of the fish. With one sip, it felt smooth and delicate, the aroma lingering between my lips and teeth, filling me with warmth and comfort. As I slowly swallowed it, a faint bitterness lingered on my palate. That bitterness made the soup even more memorable. And, as you can probably guess, I followed Luo Ge’s lead and asked for an extra bowl too—because I just had to drink my fill.

　　After a satisfying meal, it was time to hit the road again. We got back in the car, and the restaurant owner stood at the doorway to see us off. She remained standing there, waving, until our car turned a corner and she was out of sight.

　　People often say that the truly great remain hidden in plain sight. In places often overlooked, unexpected surprises await. True beauty isn’t found only in flashy, bustling areas. Even in this mountain-surrounded spot, there are feelings that linger long after you’ve gone.

　　Do you think the "mermaid" of the Nandu River is beautiful? If you have the time and happen to pass by the Nandu River, do stop by and experience her beauty for yourself. Trust me—you won’t regret it.