Autumn Visit to Yinmen Mountain
Autumn Visit to Yinmen Mountain Shi Shaohe I never had the chance to visit the Shameful Woman Mountain described by Ye Meng, but on a crisp autumn day, together with several friends, I paid homage to Yinmen Mountain by the Lishui River. Boarding a motorized junk at Renchao Creek dock and heading downstream for half an hour brings you to Yinmen Mountain. Because the Jiangya Reservoir downstream has closed its gates to store water, the Lishui has lost its former untamable nature, and a maiden-still emerald green spreads across the river channel. The motorized junk gives off a monotonous chugging roar, moving very steadily over the green…
An Autumn Visit to Yinmen Mountain
Shi Shaohe
I have never had the chance to visit the Shameful Woman Mountain described by Ye Meng, but on a crisp autumn day, together with a few friends, I paid homage to Yinmen Mountain by the banks of the Lishui River.
We boarded a motorized junk at Renchao Creek dock and headed downstream for half an hour, arriving at Yinmen Mountain. Because the Jiangya Reservoir downstream had closed its gates to store water, the Lishui River had lost its former untamed nature, and a maiden-like emerald green spread across the riverbed. The motorized junk emitted a monotonous "put-put" roar, gliding steadily over the green satin. The helmsman was a weather-beaten yet cheerful old man. While steadily steering, he introduced us to the scenery along the way and told some hilarious jokes.
When the motorized junk reached a river bend, the engine stopped. The helmsman stepped out of the wheelhouse and said to us with a smile, "Everyone, take a look—what does the mountain opposite resemble?" Then he pointed across with his hand. We looked in the direction he pointed and saw a mountain about 500 meters high standing abruptly before us. I craned my neck and looked for quite a while but still couldn't make out what it was. One companion squinted for a moment and blurted out, "It looks like a woman's genitalia." With that reminder, I looked more carefully, and indeed it did. I guessed this was what the locals called Yinmen Mountain. When I asked the helmsman, sure enough, he said, "Take your time looking," then picked up a plastic bucket to add water to the diesel engine's water tank.
In the middle of Yinmen Mountain are two recessed gullies, about 200 meters long, one deep and one shallow, one full and one hollow. Above the gullies is a dense fir forest, dark and gloomy, easily evoking mysterious coverings. The edges of the gullies are lush with reeds and silvergrass, just putting forth silvery plumes. When the autumn wind rises, the silvery plumes sway left and right, and the gully edges appear and disappear. A spring gushes out from deep within the gullies, tinkling as it flows straight into the Lou River.
After filling the water, the helmsman stood beside me and pointed to where the spring fell. That place is called Jade Fluid Gorge, with a deep, emerald pool, piled blossoms and splashing jade. The trees, flowers, and grasses on the banks, nourished year-round by the spring's spray, have a peculiar fragrance. Men and women alike, as long as they bathe in or drink this spring water and smell this fragrance, will be enchanted and intoxicated, their hearts surging with all kinds of desires and impulses. Hearing this, several companions were eager to try, wanting to row over and douse themselves, but I persuaded them not to—after all, the weather was quite chilly, and we hadn't brought a change of clothes.
Because of the mountain's spiritual essence and the water's nourishment, the village below Yinmen Mountain is called "Beauty's Nest," producing beauties for generations. During the Daoguang reign, somehow Emperor Xuanzong learned that the Yinmen Mountain area had a mild climate and pleasant soil and water, a place that produced beauties. So he broke the custom of selecting beauties from the Wu-Yue region and sent palace eunuchs from north to south, crossing the Yangtze River, wading through Dongting Lake, and tracing the Lishui River upstream to select beauties here. This place truly had beauties as numerous as clouds. The palace eunuchs were overjoyed. After strict selection, a young girl named Qiu'e was chosen. Beauties are ill-fated; Qiu'e, exhausted from the journey by boat and cart, and unaccustomed to the climate, died before even reaching the capital. The palace eunuchs, unwilling to endure such hardship again, selected a girl nearby and took her to the palace to report completion of the task. After that, the imperial court never sent anyone to select beauties again. Yet the women here remained beautiful and vivacious, each like a fairy, year after year, flowers blooming and fading. I asked the helmsman if the beauty selection really happened. The helmsman showed deep regret and said philosophically, "What is destined will come; what is not, do not force. Qiu'e entered the palace—didn't everyone here become connected to the imperial relatives? It's a pity the child had such poor fate; she died before even seeing the walls of the imperial city."
Standing before Yinmen Mountain, I suddenly recalled a photograph I had seen years ago at the Dali Prefecture Ethnic Museum. The photo showed a female genital stone carving enshrined together with Buddha statues in the Shizhongshan Grottoes. The local Bai people call it "Ayangbai," meaning the place of a baby's birth. When I first saw this photo, I found it rather peculiar and asked the guide. The guide said it was a door. Looking again, I suddenly understood—it is indeed a special door, through which everyone comes into the world. In the sacred and solemn Buddhist grottoes, the sculptor actually created such a stone carving, openly exposed, receiving the homage of thousands, without the slightest intent to blaspheme the gods. Yinmen Mountain and the female genital stone carving—one natural, one man-made—both symbolize the door of life, the sacred door!
Recently, browsing ancient texts, I came across several records similar to Yinmen Mountain. I might as well transcribe them here.
The Qing dynasty writer Yuan Mei, in Zi Bu Yu (What Confucius Did Not Speak Of), in the piece "Keeping Vigil on New Year's Eve at Niubei Mountain," said:
In Liuzhou, Guangxi, there is Mou Mountain, shaped like female genitalia. The Cantonese call "yin" as "bei," hence it is called "Niubei Mountain." Every night, ten men and women must keep vigil until dawn; if vigilance slackens and someone props it with a bamboo or wooden pole, then that year the women of the county will all elope. A certain county magistrate detested this. He ordered the local constable to fill it with clods of earth. That year, the women of the county suffered from urinary blockage, unable to urinate, and some even died.
The Qing dynasty Daoist Qingliang, in Ting Yu Xuan Bi Ji (Notes from the Rain-Listening Studio), wrote:
From Wuzhou to Nanning, sailing west, passing by Zhenban Pond, I saw from afar on the south bank several strange stone peaks... About two zhang in front of the stones, a stream runs horizontally, flowing from south to north, and where the stream mouth meets the river, a huge rock blocks it, as high as the bank... A crack runs through the middle, closely resembling a woman's private parts. Moisture seeps from the crack into the river. Above it are several small houses overlooking the stream mouth. The boatman said: This is called Liuren Cave. About a li up from here is Xiangsi Village, where the stream water originates. If someone blocks the cave mouth, then the women of the entire village will suffer abdominal swelling and be unable to urinate. Hence this inspection post was set up, with villagers taking turns to watch, a longstanding custom.
I do not know whether blocking the cave mouth of Yinmen Mountain causes women to suffer abdominal swelling and inability to urinate. After returning, I checked the new edition of the Sangzhi County Gazetteer, and surprisingly there was not a single word about Yinmen Mountain. I couldn't help but feel some regret.
Regardless of whether it is recorded in gazetteers, the locals worship Yinmen Mountain as a deity. Legend has it that for infertile women, as long as the couple goes together to Yinmen Mountain to burn incense and kneel in worship, they will be granted a child. The unruly loggers, upon reaching Yinmen Mountain, would restrain their wildness, moor their rafts to the bank, and face Yinmen Mountain with utmost piety, burning incense and kneeling on the riverbank, praying for the gods' protection and safety. Although the Lou River is treacherous, with this deity's protection, the loggers could always turn misfortune into fortune and escape death. If some hothead did not believe in evil and passed by Yinmen Mountain without stopping, speeding over the rapids, in the end he would either die or be crippled.
The helmsman told us: About four li from Yinmen Mountain, on the opposite bank, there is another mountain, in which a huge rock juts out horizontally, exactly like a virile, sturdy male genitalia, pointing remotely at Yinmen Mountain. Locals say that every day at dawn, thin mist wraps around the mountains, and a wisp of drifting fog connects the two mountains, like lotus roots severed but still joined by threads, lingering and tender, deep in affection, never interrupted. Influenced by the two mountains, the men and women of the villages below often express love through leaves and respond with mountain songs, enacting romantic stories—some poignantly beautiful and coldly alluring, some fiery and bold, some wild and unrestrained. The men below Yinmen Mountain could not bear this, so on a dark and windy night, they took fire blunderbusses, rowed small boats, came to the huge rock resembling a phallus, and blasted off its front part. The phallus rock, wounded, bled incessantly, dyeing half the river red; the blood flowed for three full years. Later, an immortal passed by, saw the phallus rock's painful appearance, and out of great compassion healed its wound. After gaining immortal energy, the phallus rock grew even thicker and harder than before. In the morning, the river mist still entwines the two mountains.
After hearing this story, I felt that if mountains and rocks are like this, human nature is even less to be suppressed. "A modest, retiring maiden is a gentleman's good mate"—this is human nature; the romantic stories on both sides of the river are not surprising.
A group of people developing tourism resources one day suddenly discovered the gorge scenery of the Lou River, explored these two mysterious scenic spots, and felt they truly had development potential. They wrote articles, took videos, and photographs, and Yinmen Mountain became hot for a while. But these people, deeply influenced by traditional Chinese culture, disliked the name Yinmen Mountain as vulgar and explicit, not poetic at all, not subtle at all, so they took it upon themselves to change Yinmen Mountain, which had been called for hundreds and thousands of years, to Yunü Mountain (Jade Woman Mountain). As for the name Yunü Mountain, I actually disapprove; it may not be as primitive, as wild, as sacred as Yinmen Mountain. Nature can openly display its most secret places for people to see—why should highly civilized humans have so many taboos, so much concealment? Yinmen Mountain—what a natural name, what a frank and sincere name.
The motorized junk roared "put-put" again, and we slowly left the river bend, left Yinmen Mountain. Soon, we saw stilted houses among green trees and red leaves, and milky white cooking smoke. By the river, several middle-aged women were washing clothes. Wooden clubs struck the washing stones with a muffled "peng peng," the sound traveling far and wide along the water. Seeing the washing women, the helmsman suddenly perked up and belted out a mountain song:
I call out to you, sister, I shout to you, sister,
Last night I suffered because of you,
Going uphill was like a ghost pulling my legs,
Going downhill was like a dazed chicken,
My soul is lost to you, sister.
After singing, the helmsman let out a wave of laughter and glanced sideways at the bank to see the reaction.
The washing women on the bank were not to be outdone. One stood up, cleared her throat, and responded:
White cloth clothes have many buttons,
Unbutton them and let you touch,
Last year when you touched, you had few bones,
This year when you touch, you have many bones,
Who are you whoring around with outside?
A burst of laughter carried over with the green waves. The helmsman, having gained no advantage, fell silent and focused on steering the boat. Watching the helmsman's feigned seriousness, I thought: in his youth, he must have been a romantic on the Lou River.
The motorized junk sailed farther and farther, and Yinmen Mountain blurred before our eyes.