“哎——有船渡么——”“哎——客家姓啥——”“姓伏(浮)——”进周庄的时候,恰是黎明,快日出前,一笔水彩霞光给水的尽头着上一片透明的绯红,渗着隐隐约约的蓝色波光。天空的云仿佛悄悄流淌到水面上,铺在船头前。摇橹的老汉用草帽遮住黝黑的脸,有节奏地摇着。每摇一下,橹搅起的涟漪便像雷达网一样散开,一层层地将水中的云推向更远处。河的两岸,全是江南的民居。古朴美观的青瓦小屋,一间挨着一间,简直是水上楼阁。 “Yeah—Is there a boat ferry?” “Hey--Hakka’s surname ---” “The surname is Fu (Floating)-” When entering Zhouzhuang, it was just dawn. Before the sunrise, a watercolor glow came to the end of the water. With a transparent blush, it oozes faint blue waves. The clouds of the sky seemed to flow quietly over the water, paving in front of the bow. The shook old man covered his dark face with a straw hat and waved rhythmically. Every time he shakes, the squeaking ripples spread like a radar net, pushing clouds in the water layer by layer. On both sides of the river, they are all houses in the south of the Yangtze River. The quaint and beautiful Qingwa huts, one by one, are literally water pavilions.