Before nightfall.
They finally arrived at the fishing village.
The village stood on an open stretch of land upstream along the river, surrounded by dense jungle.
A stone stele stood at the village entrance, engraved with blurry words. Beneath it lay several withered flowers and some cracked, dried fruit.
Richard could not make out what was written.
When he asked Ah Wang, Ah Wang said that no one could recognize it anymore. They only knew it had been left behind by their ancestors.
Here,
the River God and the ancestors were paramount.
And sometimes, the identities of the River God and the ancestors seemed to overlap.
The village was lively.
It was just evening.
Cooking smoke rose from the rooftops, and the air was filled with the scent of firewood and food. Several children ran about in the village clearing. Seeing an outsider, they stopped and curiously examined Richard.
They wore simple clothes and went barefoot, their faces bearing innocent smiles.
"It looks like a nice village," Richard said to Ah Wang.
Ah Wang nodded but said nothing.
An old man came over from the village and exchanged a few words with Ah Wang in a South Seas dialect.
Ah Wang turned to Richard. "The village chief says you may stay the night here. You can sleep in an empty house at the eastern end of the village. No one has lived there for a long time, but it should be habitable after some tidying."
"Thank you for the trouble," Richard said.
The old man led them through the village to a Wooden House.
The house was small, but fairly clean.
Bamboo mats covered the floor, while a low table and several oil lamps sat in the corner.
After giving a few more instructions, the old man turned and left.