The long-planned trip to Yangshuo eventually came to a halt. The dry and cold weather turned out to be just a false alarm, as the weekend saw a warm sun high in the sky. In order to make time, I pulled two all-nighters in a row to get things done early. By the time we set off, I was already quite tired. During the two-hour car ride, I kept dozing off. We arrived at noon, at a Northeastern dumpling restaurant on West Street. After stuffing ourselves, we admired the beautiful scenery. When traveling, the scenery is secondary; what matters most is slowing down, letting both body and mind relax.
For this short trip, we only visited Fuping Ancient Town and West Street, watched "Impression Liu Sanjie". Most of the rest of the time was spent eating, drinking, and wandering through small shops.
The biggest impression was that the snacks were indeed very good, there were a lot of handsome men on West Street, but the landscape wasn't much different from home. The title "the best landscape under heaven" might apply more to people from the north, but for me, a girl born in the mountains, it didn't have much impact. Looking at the picturesque landscape, I couldn't help but think of my hometown. Before the age of six, I ran around in the countryside, and it's been 11 years since I moved away, yet those mountains, waters, and trees are still vivid in my memory. Suddenly, I missed home, yearning for the carefree times of my childhood.
In spring, wildflowers could be seen everywhere. I often wore them pinned to my ear. On clear days, I would go up the mountain with my grandmother to pick honeysuckle. She was very skilled, and without spending much time, she could carry back a large amount. Spread out in the courtyard, the fragrant scent of the honeysuckle would fill the yard. One of the ancestral graves was located in a place called "a branch of cotton flowers falls." The stream flowed clearly over pebbles, and it was tempting to scoop up some water to refresh myself. Another grave was located behind Huang Mountain on a small hill. We had to cross two mountains, climb over stone cliffs, and push through dense bushes to reach it. But every time, we treated it like a family outing, and my mother always prepared plenty of food. After paying respects, the whole family would eat together on the mountain, enjoying the sunset.
In summer, when the sun wasn't too scorching, we would head to the pond. There were huge trees by the pond providing natural shade. Those who weren't good swimmers would splash around in the pond showing off. As for timid ones like me, we would hold onto the tree trunks and dip our feet in the deep area, practicing holding our breath. Oh yes, if you're not lucky while holding your breath, leeches might bite you. (⊙_⊙) The slimy feeling...I shivered involuntarily. By the way, the pond was actually formed by blocking the main river, so the stagnant water was very clean. As for bamboo rafts, isn't that something we've been doing since we were kids? Do we really need to spend hundreds of yuan to experience it on the Li River? Back when my father used to fish, our family had a boat. To visit my grandfather's house, we would take the boat. The water remains as clear as ever, but the mountains have become sharper. To clarify, my hometown is a small mountain village surrounded by a big river, connected to other villages only in part. There are short bamboo groves along the riverbank, and you can hear the rustling of the wind through the bamboo all year round. So, mountains, water, and bamboo are things I grew up with...
In autumn, the rice fields are harvested and stacked in piles on the drying grounds. Wow, what a natural playground! Crawling in and out of the rice straw stacks, getting itchy all over...not uncommon for country children. I remember being six years old and being reluctant to leave our hometown, so I would return on weekends and during winter breaks to play with my friends. I would bring back their favorite coconut candy, and we would gather around chewing on it, laughing with pure joy. But then life took us to different paths. Life's pace quickened, and there were fewer opportunities to return. Some of them stopped going to school and started businesses, others went to Guangzhou or Shenzhen to work. A few years ago, when we met again, we conversed in our local dialect, but the familiar feeling was gone. You know, some things, once lost, cannot be retrieved. Sigh...
In winter, we would sit by the fire. Empty cans of Eight Treasures Porridge, punched with a few holes and strung with wire, became essential winter items when filled with charcoal. Around the fireplace, we roasted sweet potatoes, broad beans, peanuts, built earth ovens to roast sweet potatoes, creating various delicious flavors...
But the good times of childhood are long gone. This year, when I returned for the Spring Festival, the vegetable fields by the river were still there, as were the wild mulberries by the fields, but they tasted less sweet than before. Was it bad timing? Digging up four-leaf clover roots yielded only a few scrawny crystal radishes. Is the soil less fertile now? A favorite wild rose bush still stood, but it no longer bloomed. The crooked words we carved into the old sword yucca plants by the roadside were also gone. Sometimes, I feel that time is a terrifying thing; some things, once lost, can never be found again.
The time and people we miss can only be mourned.
As a child, my desire was simply to have someone I liked, to do work I enjoyed, and to see places I loved. Now that I finally have a job I love and the means to travel to places I enjoy, I realize the spot for someone I like is empty. My heart feels hollow. After walking many roads, seeing many sights, and passing by many people, I finally understand: all I want is someone I like, to be by their side, growing old slowly together. That's all.
Weekend nights on Yangshuo's West Street were lively, with people scattered about. It was hard to take even a small step amidst the crowd. Jokingly, it was said that if it took hundreds of years of cultivation to exchange for a mere glance or a shoulder brush in this life, how much harder must it be for teachers to encounter so many fleeting moments? At 9 PM, a loud bang signaled fireworks exploding in the East Street sky. It turned out to be the annual candlelight festival. The dazzling fireworks lit up the night sky, exuding seductive charm. Many people around me gasped in awe at the beautiful scene. Yet, I stood quietly with my hands in my pockets, calm and composed.
Having seen such grand displays before, this one seemed rather tame in comparison. Fireworks cool quickly, their beauty fleeting. If in the past I marveled at such resolute beauty, now I prefer warmth and lasting affection. On a late night after working overtime, I walked back and joked with colleagues that fireworks were tools designed to please lovers. They agreed, saying, "Nonsense, this stuff is cheap. Not giving in would be a disservice to the crew." And we laughed our heads off in the freezing night.
When the heart-shaped fireworks exploded brilliantly in the night sky, my chest felt hollow. Because now, there's an emptiness inside. Before the trip, everyone teased me about going to bars to find casual encounters. Walking carefully down West Street, I noticed there were indeed many handsome men—suave, rugged, fashionable, effeminate, sunny, hesitant, Western, Eastern, and many more... But! They all had someone on their arm! No chance for casual encounters. Bars? Seeing the prices at three to four hundred per drink made my face flush red. Forget bars. Alright, as a girl allergic to alcohol, I should strive to develop into a wise and virtuous housewife instead. The success rate is higher, I wiped my tears...
The time and people we miss can only be mourned.
Chatting with a friend on WeChat, I said that on West Street, it was hard to walk with so many people, yet not one of them belonged to me, making me feel lonely. She said, "Now you understand?" I replied, "This was my first strong impression." I don't know if it was due to the warm air or the fireworks, but she suggested I find someone to keep me company. I shook my head, thinking it would only make me lonelier. Why bother?
Today, I read a sentence online: "If you don't want to talk about love and hate, then go travel." "Give you a world, don't let anyone control your joys and sorrows." I began to like traveling because it helps me see myself more clearly. Besides love, this world is rich and colorful, and time is precious. Learning more is the right path. To my well-meaning friends who worry about me finding a partner, please don't rush. For the next couple of years, I'm not considering dating.
The past is like water, moonlight, and flowers reflected in a mirror. Just look and move forward positively.
Every trip is like a spiritual training, bringing me closer to the real me. Hey, stay vibrant and add fuel to the journey.