Nowadays, Nanyang Island is tranquil. But it was once bustling with activity. In the days before the Tianjin-Pukou Railway was built and when hundreds of vessels crowded the Beijing-Hangzhou Grand Canal, every morning and dusk, along the canal that runs through the town, many sailboats bid farewell to it, and many ships found their way into its embrace. It was just a one-day journey from here to Jining, a historic city and commercial hub in southwestern Shandong. Vessels loaded with silk, bamboo products, white rice, delicacies, and fine foods from the southern cities of Suzhou and Hangzhou; as well as boat fleets coming from Tongzhou Prefecture heading north and south, all moored here for the night. The canal within the island was densely packed with masts and sails, clouded with canvas, crammed together like ants or insects. Thanks to the convenience of water transport, it flourished rapidly. The narrow streets of the town were lined with shops, bustling with merchants. Among the throngs of people, the soft tones of Wu dialect, the hard sounds of the local Shandong vernacular, and the refined tones of Beijing speech could be heard. High-quality grains such as sorghum and millet produced in the counties around the lake — Jin, Jia, Yu, Teng, and Zou — were loaded onto ships here, and local specialties from southwestern Shandong were distributed and collected here... Time has passed, sweeping away the masts on the Grand Canal and drying up the canal waters, but it hasn’t taken away the natural beauty bestowed upon Nanyang Island. Though Nanyang Island as a port and commercial hub may no longer exist, Nanyang Island as a delicate water town immersed in the pristine waters of Weishan Lake still attracts people with its charm.
Nanyang Island is indeed beautiful. The vast, misty, clear, and shallow blue waters of Weishan Lake gently embrace it all day long. On the surrounding lake surface, small fishing villages are scattered like stars. Some have just three or five households, others a dozen or so. When spring comes and the wind warms and the willows turn green, these fishing villages are like emerald pearls inlaid around it. When autumn arrives and the wind rises, the lake is covered in golden reeds, and it resembles lying on a piece of golden silk. The townsfolk live either by the river or facing the lake. There are thatched cottages and red-brick houses, all shaded by willows and reeds, with lotus and reeds screening the windows. In front of and behind the houses, there are stretches of blue waves. Stone arch bridges span the canal that runs through the town. Beneath the bridges, the sound of oars paddles; above the bridges, the cries of vendors echo — it’s quite reminiscent of a small town in the south of the Yangtze River.
The people of Nanyang Town make a living through commerce, shipping, and fishing. At dawn, with the lake glistening and rosy clouds weaving brocade, boats set off from the town into the lake. Boats going to the fish traps pick up fish; their double oars flap like wings, lining up in a row and heading straight for the center of the lake. Cargo boats fitted with oars plow through the blue waves, heading toward Baisha Port in the east of the lake. And those boats that go beyond the lake for trade had already disappeared into the dark waters in the middle of the night. The people here are hardworking. In spring, they fish and herd ducks; in summer, they cut grass and set traps; in autumn, they pick lotus seeds and water chestnuts. Laughter and singing, the sound of oars resonate across the contracted lake areas.
There is also a small street on the island, very narrow, with houses on both sides crammed close together. Walking in, you often think you’ve reached a dead end, but then, after turning a corner, suddenly there’s light at the end of the tunnel. The town government, hospital, school, shops, and guesthouses are all located on this small street. There is also a small market here. Before dawn, boats from the fishing villages on the lake come to the market and fill the shore. The silver scales of fish glimmer in the early light, and the cries of geese and ducks echo throughout the town. Nanyang Island also has a unique dish: duck pot.
On the small street, shops spread lotus leaves on their doorsteps — ten, dozens — a sea of green. It’s still early, in the half-light of dawn, and the small street flickers with lamps and human figures, while wild ducks are laid out on the lotus leaves. Beneath the waters of Weishan Lake grows lush wild rice, which wild ducks love to eat. In winter, when the northern cold becomes severe, they migrate south and spend the season here. Duck-hunting rifles and boats are common sights in town. Amid the waves whipped up by the cold wind, hunters in the town — wearing white hats and white clothes — hide among the reeds or silently disappear into the shadows. They crouch in small duck-hunting boats, with the sharp eyes of hunters, listening for the faintest sound of water or the softest cry, searching for wild ducks roosting overnight. Throughout the entire winter, Nanyang Town stays busy. When the sun rises and its bright light shines over half the street, the wild ducks laid out on the lotus leaves — fat, glossy, and glistening with oil — display an enticing meaty hue. At its busiest, Nanyang Island had no fewer than a hundred duck pot restaurants. Here, wild ducks are sold not by weight, but by pairs. A pair is two ducks, a set is four ducks, another set is three ducks, and six ducks — also called lone ducks or "zhang chicken" — make up another set. Prices fluctuate with the market; sellers name a price, and buyers pay. Once paid, a customer picks up a lotus leaf and wraps the glossy wild duck in it, taking away the wafting aroma. The transaction is complete.
Nanyang Town is a water town; Nanyang Island is rich in natural bounty.
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