Father was pulling the cart in front, and I was following behind it.

It was a small flatbed cart. There were no fences on either side of the cart body, and it was so open that it almost touched the shops along the neighboring streets, making the street seem narrower. From my vantage point, among the four or five vertical cart bottom boards, the black gaps were not straight, like ink lines drawn casually with a writing brush. On the silvery cart board, the medicine box was emitting a dull red glow, becoming the only shiny object on that plane. The drooping straps coiled around the medicine box like snakes, outlining a dim black shadow. There were numerous drawers in this medicine box with many hidden compartments. I had only seen a very small part of it. All of Father's secrets regarding our livelihood were sealed inside, and I wasn't allowed to go anywhere near it.

Father's huge back was swaying on the shafts. The edge of his shadow was still far from the medicine box, which made the several thick and thin ropes hanging at the root of the shafts look particularly conspicuous. They seemed carefree and casual, yet also extremely proud. When Father took them down from the wall of the side room, I saw that they were covered with white spider webs. He just shook them a few times without paying much attention. In those days, spiders were still weaving webs carefully, but they had disappeared completely since winter set in. I knew that the thick ropes were mostly used to tie firewood. When the firewood piled up like a small mountain on the cart, Father would pull the rope tightly, and the "mountain" would shrink by half. Whenever pigs were slaughtered at the end of the year, the thin ropes were often used to tie the pig's legs. The tough and thin ropes would cut into the pig's fur. The pigs would squeal and kick frantically, but the ropes wouldn't loosen at all. Once the dead pig was on the chopping board, with its unchangeable fate, everything depended on the cooperation of the ropes. I didn't know why Father had come out to pull the cart this time or why he had brought those bundles of ropes. In the past, when he went out on a medical visit, he would only carry the medicine box and select a few turtle shells from the urn in the corner of the side room, quietly murmuring the words on them, as if the different words on them were different prescriptions. In the last few times, he had no choice left, as the turtle shells in the urn had been used up.

The street was long and gradually widened. The plane of the flatbed cart's board began to shrink, forming a small rectangle. The silvery river slanted to our left. The road surface under our feet was a mixture of soil and stones, and our feet no longer slipped. Father's walking pace began to become firm. In front, the faint silhouette of distant mountains appeared. On both sides were black earthen cliffs, and the sparse branches on the cliffs pointed towards the sky. All of these seriously threatened the direction and fate of the street. The shops were no longer connected. Only three or five shops would appear at long intervals, like fragments of a dream. Finally, there wasn't even a single shop left, only the silvery river tightly sandwiched between the earthen cliffs on both sides.

Father stopped and said, "This is the place." Then he casually took the ropes from the shafts. The head of the shafts was stuck in the sandy soil, and the medicine box on the cart board slid down but was stopped by the straps. I didn't understand what Father meant and numbly followed his footprints and walked towards the river channel.

Father must have been familiar with the thickness of the ice layer. He effortlessly stepped on it, and the ice surface broke with a cracking sound. The bird's nest on the tree branch made some restless noises. The deep blue sky was like a silent mirror, which suddenly burst into fine cracks. The river water gushed out like a spring, with countless small "eyes" in the big "eyes", brighter than the stars in the sky. Father spread his hands like the wings of a wild goose and danced without rhythm, dodging and jumping around the edge of the spring. The rapidly expanding water surface gradually calmed down, and all the starlight in the sky was crushed into it, colliding with each other awkwardly. Father was waiting, but I didn't know what he was waiting for.

The night was getting colder, and I couldn't stop shivering, clenching my teeth tightly. I usually would snuggle up in his arms, but now the cold water vapor on his body was so icy that it was intimidating. At this moment, Father wasn't warm at all. He didn't even look at me. His eyes were fixed on the not-so-round ice hole, not blinking at all. On such a profound night, there weren't many sounds to be heard. The previous uneasiness and restlessness on the tree branch had long become a thing of the past. The birds in the nest folded their wings and closed their eyes, sleepy and drowsy. All that was left was the smell. Beyond the cold fishy smell of the river, one could smell the leftovers and the mixed smell of feces and urine. The smells produced all year round by the restaurants and inns in the distance behind us flowed down the river and were thickly lingering around the ice hole. I said, "Dad, I'm hungry." He raised his left arm, and the tobacco pouch hanging on his pipe swayed, signaling me to keep quiet.

He listened attentively and said, "It's coming," then quickly stood up.

Suddenly, the water in the ice hole boiled, with waves splashing everywhere. Every water droplet flew up and transformed into countless fireflies. The fireflies held the sky lanterns and slowly drifted above my father and me, making the surroundings brighter than in the daytime. Two birds flew out of the nest in surprise, sounding like crows. They disappeared along with the stars in the sky.

I hugged Father's waist, both scared and excited. I wanted to say something but couldn't make a sound. However, Father wasn't surprised at all. His face was very calm, only with the corners of his mouth slightly downturned. Father stood as still as an earthen cliff, his eyes bulging as he continued to stare at the water surface.

I saw a huge monster, round and even bigger than a pot lid, slowly emerging from the water. The water flowed in all directions on the monster's back, flashing with faint blue spots. Then, I saw the snake-like turtle's head slowly poking out from under the carapace, its two eyes emitting blood-red beams of light, carefully scanning the surrounding movements as it stretched and retracted. Seeming to sense that there wasn't much danger, it put its front paws on the edge of the ice hole and began to climb ashore.

Father still didn't move. His eyeballs were almost popping out of their sockets like balls.

I hugged Father tightly, trembling all over, and muttered "bastard" in a low voice. Father heard it this time. He pressed my head with his thick palm and corrected me in a deep and serious voice, "No, it's a turtle!" The turtle's hind paws also climbed onto the ice surface. It was shrouded in steaming white fog, but one could still tell how huge it was. The time had come. Father pushed me aside and quickly stepped forward. He clasped the turtle's skirt edge with both hands from the side and with a "hey", lifted the turtle up. The turtle was so heavy that when it formed a large angle with the ground, Father clearly panicked. He felt that the strength in his feet and waist wasn't enough to flip over this huge creature. He looked back at me, and I immediately understood what he meant. I rushed forward and hit his buttocks with my shoulder. Father took advantage of the force and flipped the turtle over with a loud "boom", and it spun on the ground. I had never seen the turtle's plastron before. It was shining with a golden luster, with clear patterns, like the wheat fields in the countryside in summer, with one strip after another. Its front and back paws were kicking wildly towards the sky, and its head was stretching and retracting, with the red light beams in its eyes sweeping across the night sky.

Father told me to fetch the medicine box on the flatbed cart. He himself used thin ropes to tie the turtle's four paws. The medicine box was very heavy, and there was the sound of metal hitting inside. Such trust was rare. I wanted to imitate Father's posture of carrying it on his shoulder, but unfortunately, the straps were too long, so I had to hold it with both hands and hand it to him. Father had already skillfully tied the turtle's four paws. The four paws were pulled by the thin ropes and all pointed towards the dead knot in the center of the plastron. Father tied it so tightly that the ropes almost disappeared into the flesh, and a stinking mucus oozed out. Father opened the lid of the medicine box, took out the seven-inch-long knife from the largest square drawer on the upper layer. With a flash of cold light, the red light in the turtle's eyes went out, and crystal-clear teardrops flowed out. The black blood spurted upwards in all directions like a spray, extinguishing the persistent sky lanterns of the fireflies. Even the stars in the sky disappeared completely, and darkness instantly swallowed everything. Father cut off the turtle's head and casually threw it into the ice hole. The water surface had already formed ice as thin as rice paper, and the turtle's head didn't make a splash when it entered the water. Father put the knife away and put his hands together, muttering something to the night sky.

I asked Father why he killed the turtle right away. He said that only in this way would the medicinal properties be better.

The huge body of the turtle filled the entire flatbed cart. Father groped in the darkness and used thick ropes to tie the turtle onto the cart. When he pulled the ropes tightly, the turtle's back was as firm as an iron mountain without any collapse.

We walked through the dark and narrow street. We didn't meet a single person, nor did we see the light of a single lamp. I knew that on the shelves behind the shop doors and windows, there were blue and white porcelain vases, copper compasses with dense small characters on them, bright red firecrackers and small string firecrackers like braids piled on the top layer, afraid of candles.

To this day, I still haven't figured out what kind of tacit understanding there was between Father and the turtle. Why Father chose such a time and place to wait for the turtle's arrival, and why the turtle took the initiative to come ashore and allow Father to catch it.

Many things are like dreams. Once you figure them out, they're no longer dreams.