According to the ferryman, the confluence of the Fen River and the Qing River lay just ahead. Here, the current of the Qing River slowed significantly, and the canyon widened considerably, yet the sheer cliffs on either side became even more formidable and bizarrely shaped, leaning outward like a distorted 'eight'—narrower at the top and wider at the base—where the river had carved its path for millennia, perhaps eons.

High up on the cliff faces, there were numerous long, narrow stone caves. Since we were at the bottom of the gorge and far away, it was impossible to tell if these elongated openings were natural formations or man-made. However, these caves, whether short or long, were clearly not deep. From our vantage point, we could faintly make out the corners of disordered coffins peeking out from within. Due to relentless exposure to sun and wind over time, the visible parts of the coffins had turned a grayish-white, resembling the ash left behind after charcoal burns down. Because some of the cavities were quite long, they contained a relatively large number of coffins. From a distance, it looked oddly like a derailed train traversing the cliff face!

In addition to the coffins scattered within the strip-like caves, there were others resting horizontally on protrusions of rock jutting out from the cliffsides. These swayed precariously under the assault of the river wind but stubbornly refused to fall, presenting a spectacle both breathtakingly terrifying and supremely magnificent. In the areas where the rock did not jut out, numerous stone pillars were jammed into crevices. Some pillars were starkly empty, leaving only a sparse scattering of crooked stumps solemnly gazing upon the millennia of transformation; others still supported horizontal coffins, also bearing that dull, ashen-gray hue. Looking up from below, we couldn't discern if any pale, bleached remains still lay inside.

In yet other caves, where the edges had weathered into smooth, rounded shapes, the coffins were arranged in an even more unconventional manner. Instead of lying horizontally, they stood vertically within the openings, with no discernible orientation as to head or foot. Some coffins were visibly damaged, empty inside, and when the sunlight slanted down from above to illuminate them, it created an intensely unsettling feeling. Each of these stone holes resembled the gaping maw of an octogenarian crone, and the upright coffins looked like the sole incisor remaining in that mouth.

These myriad, strangely arranged hanging coffins involuntarily quickened our heartbeats. Especially when, after our necks ached from looking up, we occasionally glanced down to see the wavering reflections in the water, it easily conjured the sensation of having entered a colossal necropolis.

The ferryman made no move to interrupt our quiet contemplation, allowing the rubber dinghy to drift slowly across the water's surface.

By this time, we were hardly strangers to suspended coffins. Our first encounter was in Anle Cave, though regrettably, we saw not the slightest trace. The second time, of course, was sitting in a hanging coffin in Tenglong Cave—a truly intimate contact. However, fear and the desperate need to escape meant we hadn't fully absorbed the sheer shock value of the experience then. But here and now, witnessing so many suspended coffins bathed in sunlight, silently narrating their history, an involuntary, chilling thought surfaced: aren't the bones within these coffins watching us?

This feeling was profoundly contradictory: a deep desire to examine these hanging coffins that held an eternal mystery for the world, coupled with a fear of engaging too closely with the souls resting on the precipice, lest it expose the fragility of our own minds.

I pulled out a few cigarettes and passed them to the ferryman and Man Niao Niao, lighting one for myself and taking a deep drag, forcing down the churning speculation in my chest. Feigning ease, I asked the ferryman, "Old brother, how do you think the ancients managed to hoist these coffins up to such dizzying heights?" Although I knew the possible reasons from the murals in Tenglong Cave, someone who frequented the Hanging Coffin Cliff surely harbored local legends that might offer a better explanation.

The ferryman's explanations matched the experts' theories, sticking to the same few conjectures. This only made me more convinced that the content of the murals held a high degree of probability.

"Well... has anyone ever actually climbed up to check?" I changed my line of questioning.

"Ha, why wouldn't they? I climbed up myself when I was seventeen or eighteen... Oh, that year I nearly got scared into falling from that cave—yes, that cave," the ferryman said, pointing to a long, narrow opening that held the most coffins. "...You know what I saw in there when I almost slipped?"

"What was it?" We were intensely curious.

"A liuzi (a type of snake)!"

"Pfft, what's so amazing about that? It's just a snake. We saw a python not long ago, thicker than you!" Man Niao Niao declared dismissively, his lip curled.

"Snakes aren't a big deal? But brother, I ask you, how did that snake climb into that hole?" The ferryman chuckled, unoffended.

"That's easy to say! Some bird must have stolen a snake egg and dropped it in there!" Man Niao Niao offered what seemed the most plausible hypothesis.

The ferryman paused. "That's possible. But isn't it strange? The moment my head poked out of the cave entrance, that snake—I don't know where it came from—stared straight at me. I'm not afraid of the creature, but that sudden shock nearly made me lose my footing and plunge down the cliff. Fortunately, I held on tight and hastily drew my head back, saving my skin. But when I muttered a few lines of 'Amitabha' and cautiously dared to look up again, that thick liuzi was gone."

"Nonsense, it must have slithered back into the coffin," Man Niao Niao remained unimpressed.

"That's what I thought too. The few mates with me laughed, saying my eyes were playing tricks. But after we climbed inside and searched that small cave thoroughly, we couldn't find any snake hole. Of course, there couldn't be a snake hole in there anyway, because the ground was only a thin layer of dry yellow sand, and beneath that was solid rock. Even the most tenacious liuzi couldn't burrow through rock, right?"

"Could there be a tiny rock hole somewhere in the stone?" Man Niao Niao persisted.

"There were some shallow pockmarks in the rock, you could see the bottom at a glance. How could one fit a big liuzi in there? We even poked at them one by one with our machetes; no sign of a snake."

"Then it must have gone into the coffin," Man Niao Niao slapped his thigh.

"No," the ferryman stated firmly. "Later, we used an axe to split open that nearly rotten coffin board, and found only a few pieces of dry bone inside—not even a small insect, let alone a liuzi."

"So you're saying... that snake appeared out of nowhere and vanished just as mysteriously?" Man Niao Niao still sounded skeptical.

"Yes... and that wasn't the strangest or most frightening thing," the ferryman said, and I noticed him furtively glance toward the stone cave he had entered, his expression shifting slightly.

"Hmm?" I exhaled smoke, eyeing the ferryman with suspicion.

"We practically turned that stone cave upside down looking for the liuzi without success. We didn't dare touch the coffin or the remains. One by one, we cautiously climbed back up. But the moment we stood on the flat-bottomed boat, we saw thick clouds of yellow smoke pouring out of that stone cave..."

"Yellow smoke?" I felt a jolt. "Did one of you accidentally start a fire inside while smoking?"

"Nonsense! The old crew had strictly forbidden smoking or fires in the caves. Besides, even if the coffin caught fire, it wouldn't produce yellow smoke! Moreover, after those great billows of yellow smoke dissipated, we saw that uncovered coffin still sitting there perfectly intact! No sign of fire damage whatsoever!"

"What happened next?"

"What happened next? Hmph, we went home. But the trouble wasn't over. Two of the mates who went with me started screaming and raving like madmen every night afterwards, even trying to run toward this Hanging Coffin Cliff. It threw the whole village—old folks and women—into a panic. They hired a Daoist master who performed rituals several times—burning incense, paper offerings, making them drink talisman water. It took a long time before those two mates finally stopped 'flipping out' (causing a commotion)! To this day, neither of those two dares to come near the Hanging Coffin Cliff!"

I was momentarily stunned. This situation seemed strangely similar to the 'possession' Man Niao Niao experienced in Anle Cave. Man Niao Niao, naturally sensing my thoughts, glanced at me. His previous look of disdain was gone, replaced by a heavy expression laced with a strange unease.

Seeing Man Niao Niao's blank look and no longer arguing, the ferryman grinned. "See, brother, have you ever encountered such a 'grisly affair' (a bad incident)?"

I laughed heartily, perhaps partly to comfort myself. "He's done more than that; now he’s 'scared' of those ethereal things..." Just as I was about to recount the story of Man Niao Niao and the white-bearded old man to the ferryman, I caught Man Niao Niao's murderous glare and had to stop, laughing again. (: afraid)

The ferryman quickly tried to soothe Man Niao Niao. "Don't be scared, don't be scared! What's there to fear in broad daylight? How could those things come out now? Besides, although I saw something so bizarre, I travel up and down this Qing River Grand Canyon constantly and haven't had a single problem. No need to fear!"

Man Niao Niao managed an embarrassed smile in response.

It suddenly occurred to me to ask about the three-dimensional mural in Anle Cave, so I quickly questioned the ferryman: "Do Will-o'-the-wisps appear on these cliffs at night?"

"Will-o'-the-wisps? Those are extremely common! At night, especially on hot, muggy nights, streaks of them appear along both cliffs. Those who don't know might think someone is setting off fireworks. We see them so often we've become accustomed to it, but the first time you see them, it’s certainly frightening. I wonder if they’ll show up tonight?" The ferryman looked up at the cliffs as if discussing the most mundane matter.

Whether or not Will-o'-the-wisps would appear that night wasn't our primary concern; having witnessed the unique ghostly lights in the world already, we were rather unmoved.

Indeed, Tan Ping'er, who had been quietly observing the hanging coffins, finally spoke. "Big Brother, since you travel these waters all the time, do you know if there are any unusually large ancient trees around here, or if there ever were?"

"That..." The ferryman pondered for a moment. "I remember hearing my 'Gaga' (maternal grandfather) when I was a child that a long, long time ago, the Qing River banks in this Grand Canyon used to have many very tall, massive ancient trees. Pity they were all chopped down... Why do you ask?"

Tan Ping'er didn't answer the ferryman directly but posed another question: "Then do you know if there are any sizable tree hollows near the Hanging Coffin Cliff?"

"I definitely saw those when I was herding cattle before. Smaller trees even grew out of those large hollows. We used to hide in them to play hide-and-seek!"

I knew, of course, that Tan Ping'er was trying to verify the truth of the details depicted in the Tenglong Cave murals. Hearing the ferryman's reply, I grew increasingly certain that the origin of the suspended coffins was precisely as the murals described.