Four Years Later, Reunited with You: Lijiang, We Meet Again

Prologue: A Promise Long Overdue

Some places linger in your mind long after you've left. Some regrets ferment over time, becoming the very reason to set out again.

In the summer of 2014, fresh out of middle school, I rushed through Yunnan on a guided tour. Seven days, six nights—a bus dragged us from Kunming to Dali, then to Lijiang, ticking off sights without pause. When I flipped through the photos back home, my memory was a blur: Jade Dragon Snow Mountain swathed in thick fog, Lugu Lake flashing past the bus window, not even time to properly tread the ancient town's cobblestones. That hollow feeling of "having been there but not really" stuck like a thorn, and I silently vowed: one day, I'd return on my own terms, at my own pace.

Four years later, in winter, that promise finally came true. My roommate and I snagged budget plane tickets, survived the ordeal of final exams, dragged our small suitcases, and boarded a flight to Lijiang.

Setting Off: The Romance of a Complicated Journey

At five in the morning, the dorm building still had no power. We stumbled out of bed in the dark, took the high-speed rail from Beijing South Station to Tianjin, and then flew from Tianjin to Lijiang. Why the hassle? Simple answer—broke students, saving money is the only priority. Capital Airlines' service left much to be desired, but at least the flight wasn't delayed—that alone was the best New Year's gift.

This was my first time flying without my parents. Honestly, I didn't even know the boarding process—I relied entirely on my roommate to guide me through. Yes, I was still the "baby" being taken care of.

After landing, a bus and then a local public bus brought us to the north gate of Dayan Ancient Town. The landlady of our guesthouse came to pick us up, and we clattered along the cobblestone paths, our suitcase wheels groaning like a welcome song for the old town. The room was cozier than I'd imagined, perfectly satisfying the girlish hearts of two "post-90s aunties" like my roommate and me. The hosts had prepared fruit, snacks, and freshly made congee. At that moment, the exhaustion of the journey melted away.

Our only mistake was booking a room without heating. Lijiang's winter cold seeps into your bones. Taking a shower was an experience in "refreshing agony."

First Encounters: Slow Time in the Ancient Town

The Feline Overlord and Backlit Portraits

The landlady had a haughty cat that spent most of its time lounging in a hammock chair in the courtyard, lazily soaking up the sun. Watching it act like the whole world belonged to it, my roommate and I couldn't help but sigh: what a life to be a cat.

Sunset in Lijiang comes much later than in Beijing. In the late afternoon, sunlight slanted across the cobblestones, warm and just right. I pulled my roommate over to be my model, attempting backlit portraits for the first time—the results were surprisingly good. My composition was still amateur, but that soft halo of light gave the photos a built-in filter, as if time itself had slowed down.

The ancient town was full of bougainvillea, lush and green, with none of the bleakness of a northern winter. Every few steps, there was a shop selling hand drums, their catchy tunes looping endlessly. My roommate was soon hooked, humming along unconsciously as we walked.

The Surprise of Flower Cakes

To be honest, I didn't have high hopes for flower cakes. My dad often traveled to Yunnan for work, and the ones he brought home were always underwhelming. But that day, we bought a freshly baked purple sweet potato flower cake. The crust was still warm, and when I bit into it, the milky fragrance burst out—sweet but not cloying. From then on, buying one flower cake a day became our ritual.

For dinner, we chose a Yunnan restaurant. It wasn't big, but we could sit on the second floor, eating while watching the street below. Drums echoed from downstairs, while upstairs, the bayberry wine was sweet and tangy. The owner warmly reminded us, "The grilled meat won't taste as good once it's cold." In that moment, I suddenly understood: perhaps the true meaning of travel lies in these unexpected moments of warmth.

Lashi Lake: Boating, Reeds, and Disappointments

The next day, we got up early and had a bowl of chicken soup rice noodles, paired with local pickled vegetables—so savory it made you want to lick the bowl. When we took a taxi to Lashi Lake, the off-season meant hardly any tourists—perfect for taking photos without interruption.

The water was a deep, jewel-like blue. Yellow reeds swayed in the wind, creating a scene too beautiful to be real. We walked along the boardwalk, and flocks of birds occasionally flew over the lake, their calls rising and falling, breaking the stillness.

We booked a boating activity on Ctrip, put on life jackets, and got into a small boat. The elderly boatman warned us, "If you run out of energy, call for the rescue boat." The boat was easier to row than expected, but it was hard to keep a straight course—most of our time was spent adjusting direction. The water was so clear we could see the aquatic plants at the bottom. When we got tired, we just lay back and let the wind drift us along. The sky was a blinding blue, sunlight sparkling on the water's surface.

We wanted to get close to the waterbirds for photos, but soon realized—they were quietly moving away from us. Without a telephoto lens, our bird photography plans were a complete bust.

After getting back to shore, we searched for the photo spot mentioned in travel guides, only to be stopped by an old man at the entrance: "Only people taking wedding photos can go in." Even though many travelogues said regular tourists could enter, we were turned away. Defeated, we snapped a couple of shots at the gate, just to say we'd been there.

Shuhe Ancient Town: Tofu, Grilled Fish, and a Stray Dog

Shuhe offered a half-price student ticket, but the shops inside were much the same as in Dayan. Feeling hungry, we bought some stuffed tofu—soft, salty, and fragrant, gone in a few bites. At an open-air restaurant, the Naxi grilled fish had a simple presentation but an unexpectedly delicious flavor.

As we continued exploring, we noticed a dog staring at our food with an expression that screamed, "Share some with me." We teased it for a while before finally giving it a piece. In Shuhe, time seemed stretched—even the dogs lived more comfortably than people.

Jade Dragon Snow Mountain: Pushing Limits and Surpassing Myself

Jade Dragon Snow Mountain was the biggest reason I wanted to return to Lijiang. Four years ago, in summer, the mountain was so shrouded in fog that you couldn't even see the peak. Going up on the mid-level cable car felt like a wasted trip. But what you long for, you'll eventually find—this time, in winter, I finally saw it.

We joined a one-day tour. In the morning, we had a bowl of cross-bridge rice noodles (the ingredients were already mixed in, lacking some ceremony) and set off. The guide said the timing for going up the mountain depended on the scenic area's schedule. Luckily, the day was sunny and windless, and we were scheduled to go up at noon. This meant we could only visit Blue Moon Valley in the morning, with limited time—so we had to take the electric cart for a quick look.

The water in Blue Moon Valley was crystal clear, shifting from greenish hues to a turquoise blue at White Water River. There were too many people; taking photos meant squeezing into any gap we could find. We took many shots of each other. The backlit one didn't turn out well—I over-adjusted it in post-processing, and I hope my roommate won't hit me when she sees it.

We found a spot with a view of the snow mountain, took two photos, and suddenly a crowd swarmed in. We tried to switch places for more shots, but people kept cutting in—we waited forever to get another chance. Later, we discovered the next scenic spot was even better, with Tiffany-blue water so beautiful it made you want to cry.

The Challenge of 4,680 Meters

Before boarding the main cable car, the guide said, "If you feel unwell, come down immediately." I thought to myself, I didn't get altitude sickness when I went to Shangri-La before, so today should be fine—big mistake.

As soon as I got off the cable car, something felt wrong. My heart was pounding like it wanted to jump out of my chest. I grabbed the oxygen canister, took a couple of puffs, and finally settled my racing heart. My roommate had never been at high altitude before, but she handled it better than I did—she kept waiting for me to catch up. Two twenty-year-old girls suddenly turned into eighty-year-old grandmothers, crawling up the steps, taking two breaths for every two steps.

After what felt like forever, we finally reached 4,680 meters. The summit was packed with people—I almost wondered if we'd come during a fake off-season. The five-star red flag fluttered in the wind. At that moment, all the exhaustion was worth it. Every time I go to high altitudes, I challenge my limits, and this time I broke my own record. I'll go to Tibet someday to see even more beautiful scenery (another jinx—this time, it completely shattered my confidence about high altitudes).

After coming down, I had a headache that didn't ease until we got back to the guesthouse that evening. The guide said local people would mock you for getting colorful braids woven into your hair—the reason might ruin your travel mood—but I got them anyway, who cares!

That evening, we tried the locally recommended salmon, also known as rainbow trout. The meat was firm and chewy, good raw, but the fried fish skin was dry and fishy, and the fish bone hot pot was just okay. But hey, when you're trying new things, you're bound to hit a few duds.

Wandering the Ancient Town: Erkuai, Rice Noodles, and Slow Living

On the fourth day, we finally slept in until we naturally woke up. When we went out, there were hardly any people, and most shops were still closed—we were early by local standards. Lijiang really is made for vacation: wake up naturally, then wander around doing nothing.

Whenever we spotted a pretty alley, we ducked into it. My roommate became my personal model. If we saw flowers, we had to take photos—the entire ancient town was ours. The post office was so artsy that we spent ages shooting there.

I finally got to try erkuai (a rice cake), which I'd been craving for ages—soft, chewy, and paired with sauce, it was incredibly delicious. The waiter enthusiastically explained how it was made and even gave us a small bottle of chicken peas. We also found the rice noodles we'd been looking for—the broth was savory and flavorful, even better than the morning's.

Full and satisfied, we headed toward Mu Palace. The path was lined with flowers, and the sunlight was perfect. We passed the entrance of Mu Palace, thought about it, and decided not to go in—apparently, it was rebuilt later, and we weren't that interested. From the observation deck on Lion Hill, you could see the entire Lijiang ancient town, with Jade Dragon Snow Mountain in the distance. I ordered the cheapest drink on the menu, 48 yuan, but it tasted like instant milk tea—still, you're paying for the view.

Epilogue: Goodbye, Lijiang

Four days—neither too long nor too short. We didn't go to bars, didn't rush through attractions. We just walked slowly, ate, took photos, and daydreamed. Lijiang in winter: warm sunshine, lazy cats and dogs, even time itself moving at a slower pace.

Some people say Lijiang is too commercialized, but I think, as long as it looks good, that's enough. Those flower cakes, erkuai, and rice noodles; those backlit portraits, the feline overlord, and the stray dog; the breathlessness and headaches from climbing the snow mountain; and all those unexpected moments of warmth—these are my Lijiang memories.

Four years later, reunited with you. This time, I have no regrets.

Practical Tips: - Transportation: Beijing → Tianjin → Lijiang, buying tickets in segments can save a lot of money - Accommodation: In the off-season, you can take your time choosing; many guesthouses are very unique - Oxygen Canisters: 20 yuan at the supermarket, 60 yuan at the scenic area, even more expensive on the mountain - Fruits to Avoid: Sea cucumber fruit, green jujubes, and red pears are all not very tasty—buy with caution - Colorful Braids: Locals might mock you for getting them, but it's your choice - Altitude Sickness: Don't jinx yourself—use oxygen when needed, don't push yourself