Yanji, the quiet beauty hidden in the border area

The Tumen River in July was shimmering with muddy yellow waves, like a sleeping dragon winding along the Sino-North Korean border. Standing in front of the No. 86 boundary marker, I truly felt the abstract concept of "national border" for the first time - three steps ahead were the gray-white houses in Nanyang, North Korea, and five steps back were the red slogan wall in Tumen City, China. The wire mesh on the riverside was tied with faded prayer strips, which were rustling in the river breeze. I rented a telescope to look at the other side: North Korean soldiers wearing straw hats were pacing beside the sentry post, and several women were squatting on the stone beach by the river beating clothes. In the distance were neat farmlands and low houses with slogans painted on them. Suddenly, a whistle sounded, and a North Korean train with only five carriages slowly passed the iron bridge. The mottled blue paint on the carriages was particularly dazzling in the sun. The most unforgettable thing was the Nikko Mountain Observation Deck. After the heavy rain, mist rose from the river surface, and the mountains and forests on the other side appeared and disappeared in the clouds. A Korean Azisi (uncle) who was selling roasted corn pointed to the island in the middle of the river and said: "You could go there to pick wild duck eggs before, but now..." He made a "forbidden" gesture and stuffed a handful of freshly picked wild jujubes into my hand. On the way back, I walked along the embankment and found a mottled cement monument on the shore. The words "1965" on it were blurred and difficult to distinguish. Two Korean teenagers in school uniforms were drawing a sand table with branches next to the monument. When they saw me approaching, they suddenly shouted in Chinese: "Do you want to buy North Korean currency?" Then they ran away with laughter, startling a group of river gulls.