Above the Clouds: Unlocking Another Side of Yunnan Through My Lens

Personal WeChat Official Account: 行走中的锦字 | Weibo: 沉默寡言的锦字 | WeChat: zhang769394

Opening: A Belated Record, But a Love That Never Missed

This travelogue was supposed to meet you back in October 2014. But work came crashing in like a tidal wave, and I kept putting it off—until it finally dragged into 2015. During the New Year holiday, I finally had a chance to catch my breath at home and decided to "fish" this memory out of my hard drive and lay it out in words.

Videos and photos come naturally to me—it's the writing that's my Achilles' heel. I can't do what my mother does, casually churning out thousands of words in an hour. So what you're getting here is just a very "travelogue-ish" record. Don't expect much from the text. I'll try to keep it brief, so you can skim through and focus on the pictures and videos instead.

Many of you know me from my articles Chasing China's Most Beautiful Starry Skies and later Searching for the Land of Colorful Clouds. This time, I don't just want to show you Yunnan's starry skies—I'm bringing along my new obsession, a drone, and that ever-silent companion "A Leng." I want you to see a Yunnan from above that you've never seen before.

Here's the same old line: You can skip every word and every picture here. But please, open that video—even if there's a 30-second ad, wait for it. Because it's worth it.

Video: Gateways to Two Worlds

Impression of Yunnan — Drone Footage of Yunnan

Just like my previous featured travelogues, the opening video is a must. I strongly recommend turning off the background music and watching in HD or original quality. It's stunning—truly stunning.

Farewell 2014 — Year-End Blockbuster

Coincidentally, by the time I'm writing this, my Farewell 2014 has already been released. Since 2011, every year-end, I make a video and release it at midnight on New Year's Eve to say goodbye to the year.

For me, Farewell 2014 is the most important video of the year. It captures everything from my year—it's my year-end summary, my work. It means a lot, at least to me.

If you've watched both videos, the text and images that follow are really optional. Now, please start with my year-end blockbuster, Farewell 2014.

About This Trip: Why Yunnan Again?

Yunnan—so many people have been here. I've visited three times myself, yet I can't quite articulate my feelings for this land. In 2014, I came twice—which is rare for me unless it's for work.

The first half of the year was all business trips. I thought the second half would slow down, but it got busier—three cities in one month. But by late September, just before the National Day holiday, I had eight days off with no work pending. Finally, I talked it over with my mom and decided to take her and my aunt out for a trip.

I thought long and hard. With them in tow, I couldn't go anywhere too remote—it had to be relaxing and easygoing. After much deliberation, only Yunnan fit the bill. They'd never been here either, so I booked a few tickets and picked some places I hadn't visited before. That way, everyone got something out of it, and I still had a sense of novelty.

Self-Drive Route

• Day 1: Kunming → Erhai Lake
• Day 2: Erhai Lake
• Day 3: Erhai Lake → Tengchong
• Day 4: Tengchong
• Day 5: Tengchong → Lijiang
• Day 6: Lijiang
• Day 7: Lijiang
• Day 8: Lijiang → Kunming → Beijing

The Cast: Our "RP Squad"

Along the way, we brainstormed a name for our group. We settled on "RP Squad"—short for "Ren Pin" (character/luck), or maybe "Yu Pu" (jade mat)…

• Jin Zi (Me): I earned a nickname on this trip. My aunt said I looked like "fresh meat" (young and tender), and it stuck—turning into "Rou Rou" (meat). Tears were shed.
• Moses (Old Cat): My colleague and roommate. We survived a car accident together, so we've been through life and death. In my mom's words, this guy has turned himself into a "posing master." Reason: the moment my drone fell into the water, all he could do was strike a pose—completely useless.
• Hong Xiao Mo (My Mom): Fragile on the outside, iron-willed on the inside. Editor-in-chief of a magazine, author of countless articles. I never mess with her lightly—the consequences are terrifying. She could write about you, and worse, write you out of existence. Never offend a writer.
• Fourth Aunt: Her job has made her incredibly adaptable, always ready to step in and help. Once, a disgusting guy got pinned down and slapped by her—pure boss energy!
• A Leng: Male, age unknown. Loves stargazing. Showed up by my side one day, and ever since, wherever I go, he follows.

Day 1: Beijing → Kunming → Erhai Lake — First Sight, Already Captivated

We took an early morning flight from Beijing. Lucky us—no delays, great weather. Every time I travel without work obligations, I feel this wild sense of freedom—I don't care where I'm going, as long as I'm out.

This time, I brought my little drone along on the plane to Yunnan.

After arriving in Kunming at noon, I picked up the pre-booked SUV at the Shenzhou Car Rental near the airport. Loaded the luggage, then drove into Kunming to have lunch with an old colleague. I recruited this kid to Beijing years ago. My editor-in-chief said she was the best editor they'd encountered in years. She lasted half a year in Beijing before her mom convinced her to return to Kunming.

At noon, the kid took us for hand-grabbed rice (手抓饭, a traditional Dai-style meal eaten with hands). First time trying it—pretty fun and tasty.

After a quick meal, we said goodbye and headed straight for Cangshan Mountain and Erhai Lake. I was the sole driver the entire way.

We arrived at the guesthouse around dusk. I'd booked two standard rooms, facing the lake with blooming flowers—absolutely perfect. After settling in, I couldn't resist grabbing my camera, the drone, and A Leng to shoot the sunset. The video you saw at the beginning was captured by that little drone.

A Leng's favorite thing is to act cute—always wanting a hug. Occasionally, he'd engage in performance art. That suitcase wasn't for luggage—it was for the drone.

I fell in love with everything about Erhai Lake at that moment. I can't describe its beauty in words; I could only freeze it with my camera.

As darkness fell, A Leng's eyes would glow, looking quite eerie.

In late September, Yunnan doesn't get dark too early. I shot some time-lapse footage there, and before I knew it, night had fallen. The entrance to the guesthouse looked really charming at night—it was actually this picture that drew me to book this place. Plus, it was easy to park by the roadside without walking too far. The only downside was being close to the road—occasional car noises at night.

After dinner, it was past 10 PM. My usual habit is to go shoot the starry sky. But after a full day of driving, I didn't feel like going far. I just went up to the rooftop and captured some very satisfying time-lapse videos.

The brightest spot in the distance was Dali Ancient Town. It still affected the starry sky shooting a bit, but I could still see the whole sky. I kept changing angles, and finally found the Milky Way beyond the mountains. However, with the moonlight and city lights, it wasn't very prominent.

At some point, A Leng had climbed onto the railing, head down. I couldn't guess what he was thinking, but that silhouette looked so melancholy. Maybe he was thinking about the other half of the Northern Hemisphere.

Sometimes, wanting something you can't have might be more painful. Arms open wide, no response. In the end, you have to learn to let go—maybe guarding from afar is better. He leaned against the roof tiles, watching the stars shift through the night, until he drifted off to sleep. Maybe in his dreams, he could see the person he longed to see.

Day 2: Erhai Lake — Facing the Sea, Heart Unburdened

The greatest luxury in travel is waking up naturally. When you open the window to find Cangshan Mountain, Erhai Lake, blue skies, and white clouds—I felt like I was in a dream. Everything was too beautiful to be real. Words felt powerless at moments like this; only my lens could capture it all.

Under the blue sky, Erhai Lake was so deeply indigo that it calmed your heart. All worldly worries seemed to dissolve. Now I understand why so many people leave big cities and choose to spend their remaining years in this land.

I did nothing—just sat there quietly, gazing into the distance. My mind was blank. Everything was empty. If I could, I'd stay in this emptiness forever.

Of course, we're not immortals—just ordinary people who need to eat. By 1 PM, everyone was hungry. Without the car, we walked along the lakeside to find food.

Fourth Aunt had gone crazy under this beautiful scenery. Only my mom and fourth aunt would tolerate Old Cat letting him have an arm around each.

After lunch, I suggested driving around Erhai Lake. But Old Cat wanted to stay in the room to read and sleep—a true oddball. I gave up on him and took my mom and fourth aunt toward Dali. About 15 kilometers ahead, we found a spot where we could get into the water—perfect for photos.

I really love this shot of my mom. Fourth Aunt's is great too. Posing is definitely not my strong suit. I look a bit like a martial arts villainess.

I forgot what happened, but we drove back to the guesthouse. The afternoon light was perfect. After shooting so many landscapes, I prefer photographing people. Since this trip was all about relaxing and taking pretty pictures for them, we spent the time just shooting. Honestly, places like this are made for photography.

Last night, my mom told me she wanted to write another novel. I said, "Write it now." She said writing a novel drains her spirit, and with too many distractions, she'd wait. I said, "When the distractions are gone, I'll rent you a house by Erhai Lake, facing the sea with blooming flowers, so you can finish your next novel."

This photo gives off rich-kid vibes. Too bad our family fortune declined years ago—otherwise, I could've been a trust-fund kid, driving luxury cars without a care in the world, hahaha.

"Galsang flower" (格桑花)—botanically known as cosmos. I only learned the name during my trip to Tibet years ago. I planted them at home for two years, but Beijing's climate wasn't suitable, so I stopped last year. Still, I've always loved them.

This pose looks like someone about to become a monk.

After grabbing our stuff, we drove back to the lakeside. Every step was a new scene. When she saw this edited photo, she said, "From now on, call me 'Extinction Old Ma' (a ruthless martial arts master)." I asked, "Where's Miss Zhiruo (a character from a wuxia novel)?" She replied, "I killed her long ago." Me: "…………"

You don't need to go abroad—China has plenty of scenery like this. King Kong pose… This is pure self-entertainment. No idea what I was so excited about.

The sunset over Erhai Lake was incredibly beautiful. If you've never been, pick a time that's not May Day or National Day—it'll be wonderfully quiet.

I wonder if A Leng snuck down to the lake again last night, drinking through the night.

For the pictures below, just let the images speak. Feel free to write your own story.

Sometimes, we're the ones rejecting true love. We're afraid—even terrified—deep down believing we're unworthy of being loved, because we've rarely loved others without selfish motives. We refuse to give, refuse to commit, until we've tested the other person's fiery passion countless times before daring to love. But often, by then, the one who loved you has already turned away.

My favorite light of the day is sunset. The light is softest then—whether for landscapes or portraits, everything looks comfortable. More importantly, that blue between twilight and full darkness is intoxicating.

Beyond the sea are mountains, still holding the last rays of sunset, while darkness has already fallen at their feet. Most of us are like that lone boat—drifting through wind and rain, for better or worse.

On the way back, I spotted a patch of galsang flowers by the roadside. I stopped immediately, set up my camera, and shot some time-lapse footage. One of the clips in the opening video was captured here.

Have you ever seen anything this beautiful?

The evening activity, of course, was driving alone to find a spot for star photography. This photo was taken from an observation deck on the mountaintop above Erhai Lake. Among all the time-lapse shots from this Yunnan trip, this is my favorite.

How a person interprets a photo mostly comes from their own feelings. And those feelings come from their experiences—maybe a scene from a movie they once saw, a game from childhood, or a past relationship.

Looking back at my photos, most are in cool tones—which shows I'm a pessimist at heart.

Once the moon had moved behind the mountain and I finished shooting at the observation deck, I drove down the same road from the afternoon, searching for a good angle. Most results were just okay.

A Leng stood there holding a wind-broken flower, waiting for who knows how long. But maybe she would never appear again.

Day 3: Erhai Lake → Baoshan → Tengchong — Surprises on the Road

The third day was mostly about driving.

To get to Tengchong, we had to pass through Baoshan. A relative lives there, and when she heard we were passing through, she insisted on meeting. We arrived in Baoshan before noon, had lunch, and then sat in her tea house chatting over tea. My younger sister personally brewed tea for us—her tea art had improved a lot, though still a ways from her mother's level. But she's become quite beautiful.

I absolutely loved these apricot fruits! Sweet and fragrant with a light aroma. I ate over two pounds that afternoon.

Since we were there, I had to take some photos of Aunt Rong and Qiu'er—they're practically carbon copies of each other.

Around 4 PM, we said goodbye to Aunt Rong and Qiuqiu and headed for Tengchong. Although it was only about a hundred kilometers, the road was full of twists and turns. By the time we reached Heshun Ancient Town in Tengchong, it was already dark. Cars aren't allowed inside the ancient town, so we had to park in the lot. I called the guesthouse owner, and the service was excellent—they sent a driver to pick us up.

After a quick check-in, everyone was exhausted and went straight to bed without dinner. I grabbed my camera and snuck out alone to see the ancient town at night. I never expected to capture the starry sky inside this ancient town—a pleasant surprise.

This was taken by the small river. Standing there, listening to the flowing water and watching the reflections—how could one word "beautiful" ever capture that scene?

Back at the guesthouse, I went up to the terrace and discovered that the lights had transformed it into something magical.

Day 4: Tengchong — A Symphony of History and Nature

I woke up at noon. Stepping out of my room, I found that guy reading again. My mom and fourth aunt were still asleep. The weather was nice, so I grabbed my camera and flew the drone around Heshun from the terrace.

That lazy cat couldn't do anything but sit there grinning.

Waiting for women to get ready is a hassle. So I decided to go with Old Cat to the Western Yunnan Anti-Japanese War Memorial Hall. As we left the ancient town, I saw eight big characters—if you've read my article Chasing China's Most Beautiful Starry Skies, you might remember them. Years ago, seeing those eight shining characters made me decide overnight to join the military.

The Western Yunnan Anti-Japanese War Memorial Hall was built in 1944, located at the foot of Laifeng Mountain in the southwest of Tengchong County. It was built during World War II by the people of Tengchong to honor the fallen soldiers of the Chinese Expeditionary Force's 20th Group Army and the civilians who died in the war.

We're lucky to be born in an era without war. But inside the memorial hall, I felt deeply uncomfortable.

Back then, so many boys aged 16 or 17, after minimal training in basic training camps, were immediately sent to the battlefield. No proper preparation, no experience—most became casualties of war. At that age, they should have been in school, studying, falling in love. Think about how fortunate we are now—no matter how messed up this society can be, at least we have food and clothing, everyone can go to school, travel, and do what they want. They could only choose to protect this country with their lives.

We live in peacetime, but we should never forget them.

I think the must-visit place in Tengchong is the Cemetery of the Fallen Heroes—to pay tribute to the heroic spirits of the Chinese Expeditionary Force. Their loyalty and courage will last forever!

After paying respects, my mom called. We planned to visit the Ginkgo Village today. So I drove back to pick them up and headed 50 kilometers to the village. The weather was great, and my mom was in a good mood.

The village was small, with few visitors. The only downside was the timing—the leaves hadn't turned yellow yet.

That lazy cat immediately started complaining about being hungry. We saw someone selling ginkgo nuts, so we sat under a tree, eating freshly roasted ginkgo nuts and drinking some unknown tea. A gentle breeze passed through—it was quite enjoyable.

The ginkgo trees behind us were just beginning to turn slightly yellow. It must be stunning in November. Also, I have to say—I wish I were really that tall!

When it was time to head back, we took a wild path and stumbled upon a small volcanic lake. Kids were jumping into the water naked, carefree in their childhood. Nearby, there was a Temple of Martial Saint dedicated to Lord Guan (a legendary general), with an incredibly impressive cactus inside.

It was our last night in Heshun Ancient Town. With over 600 years of history, every brick and stone here could tell a poignant story. This was my favorite place on the trip—quiet, peaceful. Goodnight.

Day 5: Lijiang — An Unexpected Return

The next morning, we packed up and headed straight for Lijiang. Originally, Lijiang wasn't on our itinerary—it was a last-minute decision. Three out of four of us had never been to Lijiang. Since we were already in Yunnan, no matter how commercialized it's become, it was worth a visit so they could see it.

After driving over 500 kilometers, we finally returned to Lijiang. A side note: I had a CD by Jianghu Xiaosong playing the whole way. My mom and fourth aunt said, "Why does this guy sing so effeminately?" I replied, "He's not effeminate at all! You'd understand if you heard him live." So as soon as we arrived in Lijiang that evening, we headed straight to the "Jianghu" bar. Lucky for us, Xiaosong was there. His voice was still the same, but he couldn't make me cry anymore like he did four years ago.

Compared to four years ago, he'd gained weight, while I'd lost it.

On the way back to the guesthouse, we ran into a golden retriever showing off its cuteness—clearly an old pro at it.

Day 6: Jade Dragon Snow Mountain — Surprises and Setbacks

In the morning, I saw a Saint Bernard dog in the courtyard. In Lijiang, the happiest creatures aren't people—they're dogs. They roam freely among the crowds, and everyone is used to it—whether it's a mutt or a purebred.

The Alaskan Malamute from the guesthouse across the street was named Zai Zai—a very aloof dog.

I planned to shoot aerial footage on Jade Dragon Snow Mountain and had already bought tickets. But because of the National Day crowds, while waiting in line, I heard people who had been queuing four hours ahead of us still hadn't made it up the mountain and were arguing with staff. After discussion, we decided to refund the tickets and go to Lashihai Lake instead—that's the beauty of not joining a tour group: we could do whatever we wanted.

We ended up playing around at the foot of the mountain, taking photos. Travel doesn't require hitting every attraction—as long as we're happy.

Wide-angle lenses are great—they instantly make you look like you have long legs. Every time I travel with my mom, I end up getting hit (playfully)—whether in Tibet or Yunnan. That goof always jumps a beat too slow, hahaha.

Four months later, I never expected to return to Lashihai Lake. But this time, it was completely flooded with water. That one tree had turned into a tiny solitary island.

Galsang flowers in the twilight. My mom still looks beautiful. That goof was lost in thought again—note the chrysanthemum flower tucked behind his ear. Fourth Aunt suddenly turned into a wild woman. We caught ourselves being candidly photographed while taking selfies. Same spot, the difference between an uncle and fresh meat was clear.

Little Grey (the drone) hadn't appeared on camera in a while. The opening shot you saw was captured here. This out-of-focus photo still gives off a wandering-the-world vibe. Pure self-entertainment.

I just realized that the four of us didn't have a single group photo together. So in such a picturesque spot, we absolutely had to leave one.

Now, I need to focus on the story behind this photo—it's too poignant.

The sunset was breathtakingly beautiful. I couldn't resist bringing out Little Grey to capture that perfect shot. But the next second after taking this photo, Little Grey lost control and plunged into the water.

We were all stunned on the shore, while the kids nearby burst out laughing. It wasn't the first time it had crashed, but it was the first time it fell into water. My only thought was: I don't care if the drone still works—I just want the video I just shot to be saved. As it turned out—it was gone. That was the most heartbreaking part.

It fell into the water without even leaving a ripple. I had no idea how deep it was. My mom wouldn't let me go in, so she ran off to find help. Even the little dog nearby was watching.

I couldn't wait for my mom any longer. I took off my clothes, slowly tested the water, and waded in to retrieve the drone. Luckily, the water wasn't deep. Relying on memory, I slowly felt around and eventually fished Little Grey back.

The most miraculous thing was—except for the video I just shot, all the previous footage was still there. Otherwise, I would have cried. After drying it out the next day, it came back to life and even took off again! Who knew it was amphibious!

Day 7: Lijiang — The Last Freedom

On our last day in Lijiang, everyone had free time. I got up and wandered around with my camera. This shade of blue—it belongs exclusively to Yunnan.

Without realizing it, I found myself back at Tinglanju (a guesthouse). This time, Sister Lily was there. They were just preparing lunch, so I made myself at home and joined them for a meal.

Four years hadn't seen each other, but her smile was still as warm. Mooching food and drink without ever feeling like an outsider—this must be a skill I've developed over years of traveling. I cleaned every dish on that table. I did almost nothing that day except sit there and chat with them about the changes over the years. They felt as close as family—this is one of the biggest reasons I love traveling: you always meet like-minded people.

I wanted to shoot the starry sky at the foot of Jade Dragon Snow Mountain. During National Day, the area was heavily guarded, and outsiders weren't allowed in. So I had to shoot from a distance, but the results were still decent.

After capturing the last shot, on my way back to the old town, I came across this sea of flowers—a perfect ending to the trip.

Day 8: Return Journey — Goodbye Means Reunion

The last day was all about travel. Since we rented the car in Kunming, we had to return it there before flying back to Beijing.

As the plane pulled away from the jet bridge, this Yunnan trip officially ended. But I know that someday, I'll return—maybe even settle down in some snowy mountain.

Day 9: Postscript in Beijing — The Journey Never Ends

After arriving in Beijing, my younger sister and brother-in-law had just landed too. They'd taken a similar flight from Zhuhai to Beijing and were waiting for me at the airport—just so I could take their wedding photos. I didn't rest at all during the entire National Day holiday, especially that starry sky shot on the Great Wall—it nearly killed me.

Dear sister, happy wedding.

Final Thoughts: Yunnan — A Story That Never Ends

Eight days, two thousand kilometers—from the dawn light over Erhai Lake to the sunset in Tengchong, from the bustle of Lijiang to the tranquility of Heshun. What I captured through my lens wasn't just scenery—it was a way of life.

Many people ask me: Why do you always go to the same place? I think the answer lies in every takeoff of my little drone, in A Leng's silhouette gazing at the stars, in the laughter of my mom and fourth aunt.

Yunnan is like a book that can never be finished. Every time I open it, there's a new chapter. And I'm just a lucky reader, occasionally fortunate enough to become its author.

If you want to go to Yunnan, I have only one piece of advice: choose a time that's not a peak holiday. Walk slowly. Look carefully. You'll find that the real Yunnan isn't in travel guides or check-in lists—it's around every unexpected corner, in every moment you look up at the starry sky.

Seeing Yunnan from above is a perspective. But seeing Yunnan from the heart is a state of being.

I hope that one day, you'll find your own piece of sky.

Copyright © Jin Zi. All rights reserved. Reproduction in any form requires the author's permission.