It was an autumn evening when my father said he would take me to the Yellow River. I had only ever heard stories about the river as a child but had never truly seen it. I was full of anticipation at the thought of going there with him. We packed some snacks, hopped on a bike, and rode northward until we finally arrived at the riverbank in Jinan.

At dusk, the Yellow River flowed quietly, carrying with it an indescribable power. My father laid out a blanket and motioned for me to sit down. The sky gradually darkened, and soon, only the soft sounds of the river surrounded us. Gazing at the wide river surface, I felt a sense of peace mixed with awe.

“Did you know?” my father said softly. “The water of the Yellow River doesn’t just flow from upstream; it carries with it the stories of the river.” He began sharing his childhood memories with me. Back then, when the river swelled, people would gather by the bank to fish, and the catch would often become an important part of their meals. He recalled how they’d run along the river with their friends, competing to see who could find the most fish. He laughed at the memory, as if those youthful days had resurfaced before his eyes.

As the night deepened, stars began to sparkle in the sky. My father and I lay back on the blanket, gazing at the countless stars above, while he continued sharing the ancient tales of the Yellow River: legends of floods, heroes who tamed the river, and amusing stories from his own childhood. In the stillness of the night, the Yellow River felt less like just a river and more like a place imbued with countless years and memories. I listened quietly to my father’s voice, feeling as if I had truly touched the soul of the river.

Later, accompanied by the starry sky and the gentle sounds of the river, we gradually drifted into sleep. The steady flow of the Yellow River lingered in my ears. That night by the river, I shared a special moment with my father, and it felt as though, in that peace, I had formed a deeper connection with both him and the river. This memory remains deeply cherished in my heart, a precious bond between me, the Yellow River, and my father.