Witness the vicissitudes of history and inherit the water conservancy civilization

It was raining that day, and I went to Dujiangyan. The Minjiang River in April was stained with the emerald green of Mount Qingcheng. The blank space left by the spring flood in Dujiangyan was more charming than anywhere else. I walked up the mossy steps on the Songmao Ancient Road and saw that the Fish Mouth was dividing the melted water from the snow mountains into two pieces of silk. One piece flowed downstream, passed through the Baopingkou, and moistened the Chengdu Plain; the other piece was running towards the distance, carrying fallen flowers. This exquisite water conservancy texture hides the secret to curing modern people's anxiety. The morning mist has not yet dissipated, but the copper bells on the Anlan Cable Bridge are already swaying gently in the spring breeze. Leaning against the slightly shaking bridge railing and looking into the distance, the water droplets splashing from the Aquarius Mouth wet my eyelashes. In a trance, I saw the figure of Li Bing holding an iron chisel looming in the waves. Those water management mottos of "deepening the riverbed and building low dams" now turn into cool mist that seeps into the pores, replacing the electronic radiation accumulated overtime inch by inch. The flying eaves of the Erwang Temple on the opposite bank pierce through the mist, and the copper bells under the eaves and the river waves play the same morning song that has remained unchanged for thousands of years. In the newly built ditches by farmers, the snow water diverted from the Dujiangyan Irrigation System is depicting the fields with the brushwork of "Notes on the Classic of Waterways". Squatting down and taking a closer look, you can see a few transparent little fish swimming upstream, their scales reflecting colorful spots of light, reminding people of the prayer lanterns floating on the Minjiang River during the Guyan Spring Festival. The old man who set up a tea table in the sea of ​​flowers said with a smile: "The Mingqian tea made from this water can dilute the anxiety in your mobile phones." As dusk casts a shadow over Yulei Mountain, the afterglow of the Water-releasing Festival still lingers on the river. The sacrificial scene I witnessed during the day replayed in my mind: the weir workers shouted ancient slogans to block the flow of the river and build the cofferdam, and when the spring flood came, they opened the waterway. In an instant, the rushing river water turned into thousands of silver scales, leaping towards the rice fields to be irrigated. Standing on the South Bridge and listening to the waves, I suddenly feel that the time in urban life that was cut into pieces by key performance indicators (KPIs) is being stitched back into a complete piece of silk by the eternal rhythm of the river. As the moonlight climbed up the magnolia trees in Lidui Park, the subtle fragrance and the river breeze quietly reconciled beside the Yangong Road. Touching the inscriptions of the heroes who have made great contributions to flood control throughout the ages, I feel the warmth of the bronze from the Warring States Period on my fingertips. It turns out that the water of Dujiangyan not only flows in the canal, but also writes the wisdom of "Tao follows nature" as a footnote of spring in the posture of every blooming flower and in the relaxation of every cup of new tea.