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Between Jiaobiao Road and Xiu Zhou Road, there is a road called Dingjiaobiao Road, which was a small path along the riverbank of Jiaobiao River 35 years ago.

At that time, the affectionate river quietly slipped out of the mysterious North Gate City River, converged in the spacious river mouth, reflecting the high Ma Tou Wall on both banks, the river squeezed into the narrow Jiaobiao Dong, flowed across the wide river, joyfully kissing the neat river and bank, passed through Anleqiao and entered Xie Yaoyang's embrace.

Jiaobiao River runs through the people's road, Jiaobiao, Yangliu Neng, Chunshui Neng and Anleqiao area, hugging the riverside houses, small bridges and rivers, black tiles and white walls, unchanged for hundreds of years.

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The southern bank of Jiaobiao River is Chunshui Neng's courtyard kitchens and backyards, all with eaves shading the river, mostly one-way, some with small doors coming from both sides, facing each other. The small road on the north bank has a poetic name, called Jiaobiao River Under, commonly known as the bank, the road surface is slightly inclined towards the river, and the rainwater naturally flows into the river.

There are prominent rivers on the bank, used for washing and mooring. Regardless of winter or summer, the rivers are always the busiest. Washing and cooking big aunt, girl, some sighed bitterly, some pulled their throats to chat about family affairs, often attracting passersby to slow down.

The roadside houses are one after another, three households in one house downstairs, and wood-framed windows upstairs. The unevenly arranged Ma Tou Wall has upturned corners and stretches towards the blue sky. The middle section of the bank is Yangliu Neng's mouth, very spacious, the east of the Neng is a tall Wu Yun Bin Mansion. At that time, my home was located at number 3 of Yangliu Neng, about 10 meters south, was Jiaobiao River Under.

When I was a child, I walked along the quiet stone road and the ancient Jiaobiao, washed in the river, played on the bank, and swam in Jiaobiao River in the summer.

In the morning, the river was always shrouded in a thin mist, the bank was filled with children buying tofu, big aunt buying vegetables, and people carrying hot water bottles.

When the river flowed, it was always accompanied by rain, the river surface overflowed with water flowers. Washing people jumped onto the bank to hide under the eaves, staring blankly at the eaves dripping on the stone steps, flowing into the river. On the opposite bank, the eaves river was still washed by girls, playing with the eaves water.

At this time, a child holding an umbrella came from Yangliu Neng, a girl washing clothes came out of the rain-sheltered eaves, crowded into the umbrella, walked towards the river, faced the water flowers. Sister washed clothes, brother held an oilcloth umbrella, in the water curtain, vaguely like a watercolor painting with added color.

In late October 1970, my father borrowed a motor from the collective production team to help me, and dispatched me on a cargo mission. In the morning, I and the old peasant Lao Amin walked together under the starlight, rowed a small boat, from Xiaoshuili Village along Sixli Changjing, passed through Taiping Bridge, from Jinjia Tan, Fenquan, Wangwuqiao and entered North Gate City River.

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The small boat sailed through the warm riverside houses, and the bank stretched out a silver chain, and when looking up, two rows of eaves brought a line of blue sky. Standing on the swaying boat, shouting, attracted intermittent sound from the open windows, some looked in one glance big aunt, some crouched on the windowsill curiously looked at children.

The small boat turned, passed through Jiaobiao River, slowly floated in Jiaobiao River. The bank companions saw me rowing a boat, exclaimed in surprise, the washing people on the river raised their heads and greeted me. I stopped the boat at the large river in Yangliu Neng, pulled up Lao Amin, and took his homegrown vegetables home.

I rushed back to the river again, jumped onto the boat, pulled the oar, carried the companions, passed through Anleqiao and entered Xie Yaoyang.

We ate a simple meal, and I and Lao Amin rowed the boat, passed through the City River, passed through the Grand Canal, passed through North Li Bridge, Da Yang Bridge, Ran Jian Bridge, Fenleqiao and arrived at Yuehe, turned into Ma Jia Port River, on the north farm machinery factory river, lifted the motor onto the boat. Then, rowed the boat back to Jiaobiao River, the setting sun was already red across the west.

When I got home, my mother had prepared oil tofu roasted meat, fried some of my grown vegetables. My father broke the rule and bought yellow wine to drink with Lao Amin, and after a few cups, Lao Amin's black face turned red, he smiled, and kept praising my working performance. My parents smiled and watched, listening to the story.

As night fell, the river in Yangliu Neng's mouth, I and Lao Amin boarded the boat, the oar moved, and the boat scattered the moon in the river. The boat went through the river, my parents walked along the bank, giving instructions. The boat passed through Jiaobiao River, I turned back, my parents stood on the bridge, stretched out the bridge railing to look at.

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The faint light, the bright moonlight, stretched across the bridge, the parents leaned against each other, waving at me. The boat slowly turned to the North Gate City River, and my mother's voice still echoed in the quiet waterway.

The moonlight was covered by the city river buildings, the lights of the windows on both sides of the waterway, swayed in the night, the oar sound drifted, just like listening to my mother's lullaby, like a dream, floated in the City River. The boat drifted through Wangwuqiao, looked out at the Grand Canal, opened up.

With the rapid development of urban construction, the curved City River lost its life song of water supply, washing, and transportation, and the old nature faded away.

In 1980, when the North Gate City River, Jiaobiao River and Xie Yaoyang River were successively submerged, the bank, rivers and rivers did not move, they were buried deep in their hearts like colorful memories. Whenever I looked at the frozen picture of riverside houses in Yuehe Street, I listened to the two-stringed solo performance of the Moonlight River Pipes, it was like clicking the hidden notes in my heart.

Therefore, the misty Yangliu Neng mouth, Jiaobiao River and the boat parents, and the colorful dream boat, drifted away from the quiet waterway.

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