Searching for Her in Zhejiang a Thousand Times: Wuzhen the Most Enchanting, Hangzhou the Best (Hangzhou Chapter)

Second Stop: Hangzhou

Cloudy weather, at 9:30 we checked out and set off. Our plan for today: Wuzhen – China Academy of Art Xiangshan Campus – Ya Zhi·Mengxi Villa; in the afternoon, Jiuxi Eighteen Gullies, "Longjing Tea Inquiry," and the Three Temples of Tianzhu. Overnight at Ya Zhi·Mengxi Villa.

Arriving at China Academy of Art Xiangshan Campus.

Tip: According to Baidu Baike, the Xiangshan Campus of the China Academy of Art is located in Zhuantang Town, Hangzhou, surrounded by green hills and clear waters. The campus master plan places great emphasis on creating an overall atmosphere and protecting the ecological environment, drawing on Chinese and Western university development models to create a campus layout that integrates architecture, space, landscaping, and nature into a harmonious whole—a true garden-style, open campus environment ideal for educational tourism. The layout follows the terrain and environment, adheres to principles of simplicity and efficiency, with clear zoning, and fully considers future flexibility and integrity.

How wonderful, absolutely stunning, heart-stirring, soul-captivating!

11:00. The China Academy of Art Xiangshan Campus is a self-contained fortress and not open to visitors. As wonderful as it is, it’s also disappointing; our passionate visit as uninvited guests was met with a cold shoulder, making us feel that we had overreached and flattered ourselves. Not being welcomed, we could only self-correct. Apologies where due, reflections where needed, we reached a conclusion: on this trip to Hangzhou, we’d cut through complexity and bypass the China Academy of Art Xiangshan Campus. Upon hearing fault, we change; heart stirs, the action follows—yeah, awesome! We’re self-hyped!

We arrived at Ya Zhi·Mengxi Villa.

The photo above shows a spot we passed: Songcheng, not our cup of tea.

At high noon (11:30), we checked in at Ya Zhi·Mengxi Villa, and immediately our earlier gloom vanished. Mengxi Villa can be called a scenic spot where mountain and stream converge; the mind creates the scene, and our hearts opened wide. A gentle breeze, warm spring sunshine—this is a place of quiet elegance, embraced by green shade, a blessed land for self-cultivation and seeking the Way, and our cozy nest for three days and two nights in Hangzhou.

This is what I desire. The villa’s gate opens onto a private garden lifestyle of secluded mountain living. The simple guest house champions minimalism, expressing richness through ancient simplicity, conveying deep flavor through plainness, with a touch of Zen and a hint of Japanese style, making you as gentle as jade and me soft with a glow. Our friends on social media were envious and unstinting in praise: — A manual thumbs-up; — A new life of such joy you forget to return; — Traveling with such grand entourage and bustle; — Ha dia! (Awesome!)

Getting to the point: a so-called villa estate must blend with mountains and waters; the beauty of nature has been celebrated since ancient times, and it requires a trek to truly appreciate. Looking up from where we parked, three main buildings stood amid dappled shadows and sparse light. A staff member led us up stone steps to the highest Building 3. The two top-floor guest suites were ours: Ting and Zhang had one called 'Changgexing' (The Long Journey), while Ping and I stayed in 'Moshangsang' (Mulberries by the Path).

Good mountains, good waters, good lodgings—first, let’s get familiar.

The Jacuzzi on the terrace offers a 'unity of man and nature' bathing experience—like a lotus emerging from clear water, naturally beautiful without adornment. If you are gentle, the ambiance could be warm springs, eating lychee, lying in Mengxi, gazing at the starry sky. If you are resolute, it might resemble Marat of the Jacobins, or Samson the warrior, who even while bathing would write furiously, fighting until death.

Following the terrace stairs, we went down to the next level, where a viewing platform hidden among lush greenery offered various dining tables and seats, indoors and out; even outdoors there were highly private tented alcoves. The four of us, without any hidden agenda, preferred to 'sun more for health' and chose an open six-seater table, naturally setting up a parasol. Our midday tea break began at 13:20.

The tea leaves tasted a bit stale; we tossed them and switched to our own Zheng Shan Xiao Zhong. Snacks were simple but sufficient; if not, we had our own supplies.

During tea break, a few guests from lower floors arrived, fussing over where to sit, and eventually settled at a distance from us, in twos and threes, but their voices were never late—those voices periodically invaded our ears.

We said goodbye and headed down. By the outdoor pool at Building 2, we saw no swimmers, only the hotel’s world-weary dachshund sprawled by the poolside. We called 'Hot Dog!'—no lazy reply.

Step out of the hotel and you’re on Jiuxi Road. Left or right? Two years ago we walked Jiuxi from top to bottom, starting at Yangmeiling along the stream down to the Qiantang River; this time we’d trace it upstream: Mengxi Villa – Jiuxi Yanshu (Misty Trees) – Longjing.

Starting from the small bridge on Jiuxi Road that crosses Jiuxi, we began our walk at a relatively high point. Time noted: 14:30, and visitors were already swarming.

We set out along the stream, with tea gardens on the left and the creek on the right. Tea bushes lush, water babbling, birds flying in from the mountains and into the wooded ravine, back and forth endlessly. We embraced it all, and before long passed the graves of Chen Sanli and his son Chen Hengke, then the Linhai Pavilion. Linhai Pavilion is just a roadside rest pavilion, hardly worth mentioning, but the grave of Chen Sanli and Chen Hengke is a sacred place of homage. Coming from Fenghuang in western Hunan, the Chen family—including Chen Baozhen (Sanli’s father)—were unparalleled patriots, each a pillar of the nation. We sadly missed it.

After passing the graves, we crossed a small bridge and Jiuxi returned to our left. Talking about the scene then: the surroundings and tourist activities made everything vividly alive. Our own walk was along easy, broad paths, but many other visitors went down to the stream, into the tea gardens, seeking the ultimate green experience. We were too macro; our vision was far less detailed than the nitpickers'. I won’t be the one picking up lost treasures, but your soul might get lost.

The photo shows two paths: the water route and the mountain route. Water flows to the lowlands, Jiuxi water heading for the Qiantang; people climb high, where the destination is Yunxi Bamboo Path—a great love of true hermits, not afraid of clouds blocking the view, because they are at the highest level.

Ahead lay Jiuxi Yanshu (Misty Trees). I rushed ahead to check in; Ping, Ting, and Zhang followed one by one in a scattered line and also checked in. Late spring, early summer, the rockery at Jiuxi Yanshu welcomed us with green hills and red leaves, though the red here was far from the peak autumn splendor.

Ping, Ting, and Zhang, carefree and focused, started walking along Qianlong Road toward Yangmeiling. I called back such path-blank: 'Please, we’re heading to Longjing.' The way to Longjing isn’t the natural extension of Jiuxi Road; you need to take the side path on the left, the Xishan (West Mountain) Hiking Trail. So, their enthusiastic wrong turn was understandable.

The entire stretch from Jiuxi Yanshu to Longjing was a trail of stepping stones and rough paths, with water overflowing the trail, gullies everywhere. You could see cooking smoke rising without the noise of carriages. We had to take photos.

Familiar lines from 'Guan Ju' (The Crying Ospreys): 'Guan guan cry the ospreys, on the islet in the river. A fair maiden gentle and graceful, a fit mate for a gentleman.'

And softly humming 'Feng Qiu Huang' (Phoenix Seeks Its Mate): 'Phoenix, oh phoenix, returning home, roaming the four seas to find his mate. If time does not allow, I have nowhere to go; who knew today I’d ascend this hall!' We won’t debate the anonymous poet; among named ones, we’re most convinced by Zhuo Wenjun and Sima Xiangru. In today’s era of omnipresent time-travel, Zhuo and Sima in Han-style robes could easily have a modern, real-life version.

Father and son: this is both a bond and companionship. Growth of all kinds happens on level ground, and even more so on stepping stones. The child in the photo, under his father’s gaze, resolutely took the first step, second, … fifth, all the way to the enchanting other shore.

On the stepping stones, besides father and son, there were many lovely young men and women.

A corgi, with short legs unable to handle the stones, had to lower its body and wade across the stream, yet seemed tireless and happy.

Another one, also a corgi. It strode along the main road, full of high spirits and fighting spirit, a trendsetting dog—thumbs up!

Jiuxi Eighteen Gullies: high mountains and deep forests, overcast sky, islets and ridges, scenery stretching left and right. From Jiuxi Yanshu to Longjing, it was mostly an uphill path, long and arduous. To one side, Jiuxi would occasionally flood the path, and the authorities had built stepping stones for travelers.

A place called Jiuhong Pavilion, symbolizing Jiuxi, was built on the sunny side of the stream. Many visitors rested inside; we didn’t pause but continued over hills and through water. We forsook the easy route for a thorny trail, enduring countless hardships. Awesome, my Ping, my Ting, my Zhang, and my me.

The magnificent scenery, like a bright mirror, awaited beauty-loving us, but we toiled with our bodies and missed the fleeting moments—a small regret.

At mid-afternoon (16:00), we arrived at Longjing Village. Finally at Longjing! I wanted tea! Our planned 'Longjing Tea Inquiry' was about to begin. Ting searched nearby tea houses online; Yuyang Pavilion ranked high.

We climbed higher to the second-highest open-air terrace of Yuyang Pavilion. How to drink tea? Sitting properly, Lu Yu advocated pure infusion, so Zhang had to work a bit, adjusting the water temperature from the thermos to just right for drinking and savoring. Tea has no noble or common, only what pleases the palate is precious. Sitting around, we sipped Longjing tea, said to be premium pre-Qingming with the fragrance of new tea. But the appearance in the glass cup showed both buds and leaves—leaves not small, so I felt it couldn’t be the top special grade like 'Lotus Heart' or 'Flag and Spear'. We savored tea in the pavilion, capturing the scenery in our cups, and not long after, from careful tasting to gulping, only half an hour passed.

At the Shili Langdang entrance/exit of Longjing, our Jiuxi walk ended. We were to go to another place: the Three Temples of Tianzhu.

From Longjing to Upper Tianzhu Fuxi Temple, we booked a ride-hail car. Many people, few cars, and even with constant tips and fare increases, we waited a full 20 minutes. While waiting, we unexpectedly encountered a bus: No. 1314, a little romantic. Hangzhou’s public transit knows how to play; they linked Liulang Wenying (Orioles Singing in the Willows), Nanping Wanzhong (Evening Bell at Nanping), Yuhu Bay, Maojiabu, Lingyin Temple, Sansheng Stone, Yunxi Bamboo Path, and Songcheng with number 1314, redefining '1314' (sounds like 'forever' in Chinese) as happiness.

Near dusk (18:00), we arrived at Faxi Temple in Upper Tianzhu, said to be the most effective sacred site of Guanyin among the people. We didn’t enter the temple gate, just took one photo.

The path from Faxi Temple to Lingyin Temple is nearly 3,000 meters of the Bodhi Way. We walked it. The first 1,200 meters, from Faxi Temple to Fajing Chan Temple, was a stretch of the Upper Tianzhu Incense Market: distant, subtle, clean and otherworldly. Our vision was filled with shops and tea houses everywhere. Windows like picture frames held only exquisite treasures. If you showed interest in the cultural creative goods, shopkeepers would explain them one by one—truly each shop a scene. Then we walked the hiking trail, a quest for the subtle and secluded amid a bustling city, sometimes alongside gurgling waters, sometimes facing ancient, solemn trees, reciting a little poem by Wang Guozhen: 'Dappled shadows intoxicate horse walls, rustling leaves whisper of the past, blue stones still remember those days, this question no longer has the young man.' How many springs and autumns in life, cold kisses and hot love, when we look back again, life is also scenery at every step.

Dusk deepened, hunger gnawed. We left a photo collage to feed ourselves.

Ahead was Fajing Chan Temple. At first glance, the temple gates were shut; we took a panorama from the small bridge across the stream.

The 500-meter path from Fajing Chan Temple to Fajing Temple felt like a long-awaited meeting. A chance encounter and the mental leap that followed turned our hearts into deep longing.

Shops operating: You Ran Clothier, Xin Xiang Shi Cheng Light Eatery, San Gong Li Wellness Club, Full Joy Coffee Bar—we wanted to stroll through every shop, but we only glanced at each. Where did time go? It just passed from late afternoon toward dusk.

Fajing Temple of Three Tianzhu arrived. We skipped Fayun Ancient Village. Among us, only I checked in at Sanshengshi Tea House (Three-Life Stone Tea House). The predestined bond of past, present, and future lives intuitively surpasses the romance of bus 1314. I was a bit stunned, then hurried off to the next section.

The next section should be the last leg of today’s Three Tianzhu walk: Fajing Temple to Qingchun Pumen, a distance of 1,200 meters. Ping and I walked ahead, Ting and Zhang lagged behind. When a little distance opened, the resulting aesthetic would instantly prompt Ting and Zhang to speed up.

We passed: Qingzhu Tangka, Yinian Tea House, Fuluoyuan, Yingzhu Restaurant, Wendao Xiaoguan, Yudian Coffee, Zhuli Banban, Zhizhu Vegetarian House, Yebai Coffee Bar, Yishi Tea House. What’s past is past; ahead, Qingchun Pumen arrived—time 19:00!

Along this Bodhi Way of Three Tianzhu, with so many dining options, why did we specifically choose Qingchun Pumen? No secret, all open strategy; the mystery would reveal itself. It was the final link in the closed loop from 'planting grass' (getting interested) to 'pulling grass' (fulfilling the desire). Once we entered, it was complete.

After freshening up, we settled at a window-side table. Ordering: Food is heaven for the people. Ping and Zhang went for staple dishes: classic black truffle fried rice, pan-fried buns, dry-tossed wontons, Chongqing spicy fragrant noodles. Ting wanted meat, but a Sichuan-style vegetarian restaurant wouldn’t offer it; so she settled for quinoa numbing tofu and golden-thread bamboo shoot stewed winter melon. I ordered sweet-and-sour West Lake lotus root and fragrant dried mushroom. A beetroot warm salad, a completely unheard-of new item, was recommended by the shop. This extremely elegant vegetarian meal was ritualistic; Ting and I loved it, a perfect fit for the palate. However, Ping detected an unwelcome spiciness, and Zhang found the noodles somewhat off, but minor flaws don’t obscure the virtues—we all embraced it!

After dinner, night had fallen. A ride-hail car took us four from West Lake back to Ya Zhi·Mengxi Villa. Fifteen bridges of West Lake at night, starlight doesn’t ask the traveler’s haste.

Above photo: 21:00, a ray of starlight cast by Ya Zhi·Mengxi Villa, enough to accompany us to sleep and dream!

A few more hours passed, night gradually paled, became murky. Birds chirped, ancient trees on the shady side of the hill took shape. Later, the sun sluggishly emerged.

A new day began!

Ya Zhi·Mengxi Villa where we stayed was once the official residence of Chen Bulei, a figure from the Republic of China era. In the crevices of time, you might unexpectedly encounter old things, antiques, suddenly appearing before a desk. We must listen attentively, feel deeply.

Fine weather, we took a morning walk, unable to avoid Mr. Chen Bulei’s grave. At 7:30, Ping, Ting, Zhang, and I stood solemnly before the tomb to pay respects. A commoner, a literary genius—death that transcends life isn’t frightening; what’s frightening is the continuation. His beloved youngest daughter Lian’er also went the same way, truly pitiful, lamentable, tragic, and terrifying!

We couldn’t bear too much historical truth. It took a long time for our hearts to calm, then we returned to the hotel for breakfast.

A friend who had stayed before commented: Checking in is stunning, but the hotel breakfast is even more distinctive! Alright, let’s seek out those unique features!

The dining room we’d seen yesterday. The four of us sat at an indoor table. The hotel offered a buffet: porridge, milk, tea, coffee, and accompanying side dishes. There were also special items, perhaps what makes it distinctive. On the plates: meat and veggie pairing—yes; coarse and fine pairing—yes; dry and liquid pairing—yes; color pairing—even more so! Color, aroma, taste in a pyramid—a whole set of healthy eating guidelines for us to practice. See photo:

After breakfast, we took another stroll around Mengxi Villa. By Building 3 we found an inconspicuous uphill path. An elderly white-haired man claimed it takes about an hour to reach the top, where you can overlook the Qiantang River. We didn’t try.

Moss on the steps green, grass color through the curtain blue, chatting with great scholars, no uneducated guests—the humble house of Liu Yuxi embodies immortal style, low-key luxury. We could feel the pursuit of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism in the bones of Mengxi Villa: when poor, cultivate oneself; when successful, benefit the world. On a clear day, look not at the poor but at the successful, like the great roc rising with the wind, soaring ninety thousand miles.

We continued, beneath sky and cloud shadows, among lush bamboo groves, encountered Building 1 with four walls jaggedly arranged. We could only see a side gate. The stone steps in front were quite lavish, a foot wide. On the platform above, wooden doors flanked by stone guardian lions; under the eaves supported by pillars, fallen leaves not swept, ivy already old. No one had been in this building for a long time; only us idle fellows occasionally came, as evidenced by Tang-style lanterns and nearby stone benches.

Time: 9:00. We stopped. Today’s plan: more walking, mixing old and new. Yanggong Causeway (Guo’s Villa, Quyuan Fenghe Lotus in the Breeze), Baisha Causeway as old grounds; Qianjiang New City or Tianmuli as new explorations.

Walking Yanggong Causeway: Guo’s Villa

Our outing routine was set: at 10:00, the ride-hail car completed our trip to Guo’s Villa. After thanking, we took a photo—Guo’s Villa.

Tip: Guo’s Villa is one of Hangzhou’s private gardens, located beside the Wulong Bridge on Yanggong Causeway of West Lake, north of Quyuan Fenghe (Lotus in the Breeze). Together with Liu’s Villa, Wang’s Villa, and Jiang’s Villa, it’s one of the Four Great Gardens of West Lake. Originally named “Duanyou Villa,” it was built in the 33rd year of Guangxu Emperor (1907). The first owner was silk merchant Song Duanfu from Hangzhou, so it was commonly called Song Villa. During the Republic of China era, it was sold to a man surnamed Guo from Fenyang, thus renamed “Fenyang Villa,” commonly known as Guo’s Villa. The entire garden is divided into “Jingbi Ju” (Quiet Residence) and “Yijing Tiankai” (A Mirror Opening to the Sky). Jingbi Ju is the residential part, where the owner lived and received guests, with exquisite, antique furnishings. Yijing Tiankai is the garden section, a delicate water-themed garden.

The garden master Chen Congzhou, pseudonym Zi Weng, fully participated in the restoration of Guo’s Villa, leaving behind “Record of Restoring Fenyang Villa.” In return, Guo’s Villa built Zi Weng Pavilion as a public memorial.

At the main gate, we could see the engraved characters 'Fenyang Villa,' but to go further, some silver was required—not much, a flat fee of 10 yuan.

Truly worthy of a famous West Lake garden. First we entered Jingbi Ju, the main part of Guo’s Villa. From the corridor on the north side of the main house, we looked out on the lotus pond (also called Huanchi). Spring scene bright and pleasing, the most eye-catching parts were Jingsu Pavilion and Liangyi Xuan. After winding along the walkway and curved corridor again, we reached the main living room, with a horizontal plaque reading “Xiangxue Fenchun” (Fragrant Snow Divides Spring).

It was in Xiangxue Fenchun Hall that our four got separated in the bustling crowd of Guo’s Villa.

I went to Chengfeng Yaoyue Xuan (Riding the Wind and Inviting the Moon Pavilion), which is like a pavilion, an open room facing the lake, directly opposite Yati Bridge, one of the Six Bridges of Su Causeway. Truly, having seen all spring splendor on earth, I sat on a lakeside chair. Just then Ping also moved there. About to enjoy the lake and mountain view, a waiter politely reminded us that sitting there required ordering tea. Ping and I, struck by the implication, felt our hearts turn cold.

Guo’s Villa clings to West Lake so tightly that the garden’s creator built many bamboo fences, low walls, moon gates, and sparse windows. On one hand, this created a separation and detachment from the lake, preserving the villa’s unique character; on the other, it left plenty of room to embrace the 'Spring Dawn at Su Causeway'—one of West Lake’s Ten Scenes—into view, and from the side, to listen to the sound of rain on withered lotus in Quyuan Fenghe. Such a masterful command of scenery, neither too tight nor too loose, could only be done by a grand master.

When we met up with Ting and Zhang again, it was on the Wobo Bridge in Yijing Tiankai.

Then we circled the Mirror Pond, passing by such spots as Rufeng Ruochun Pavilion (now Yingfeng Yingyue Pavilion), Cuimi Corridor, Zi Weng Pavilion, Tingbu (stepping stones), and Ningxiang Pavilion. Only at the half-pavilion Zi Weng Pavilion did we pause briefly. Seeing the plaque 'Yingfeng Yingyue' (Welcoming Wind and Reflecting Moon) inside, a thought suddenly arose: if not for Old Zi Weng, would there be this second spring of Guo’s Villa today? Pondering, we retraced our steps and left the villa.

Walking Yanggong Causeway: Quyuan Fenghe

Leaving Guo’s Villa, still on Yanggong Causeway, we started walking from Wulong Bridge at 10:40. Leaving behind a long stretch of whitewashed wall of Guo’s Villa, we entered the green willow shade along Yanggong Causeway.

The green willow shade by West Lake is a wetland ecosystem. Far from city noise, we let nature carry us along. Straight-standing metasequoias, willows dancing gracefully; not many flowers, but eternal green shade.

Deep in the woods, a winding stream traces a long history, flowing from Maojiabu and Zhaogong Causeway. Beneath a small bridge we encountered, it silently, slowly merged into West Lake. We saw the ebb, not the flow. If it were the plum rain season, the swollen stream might offer a different scene. Stream clouds beginning to rise, fish swimming as if through air, we saw many water birds, but frogs croaking were scarce.

We pointed our lenses at the long pavilions and short stations, at Su Causeway and West Lake.

What actually came into frame were Xixiang Ting and Zhanbi Lou, dining places by West Lake. Still on Yanggong Causeway, but already within the bounds of Quyuan Fenghe.

Tip: Quyuan Fenghe—Quyuan originally was 'Qu Yard' (meaning yeast yard). Located where Jinsha Brook (the largest natural water source of West Lake) flows into the lake, during the Southern Song Dynasty a palace wine workshop was established here, and lotuses were planted on the lake. In summer, when the breeze blows, the fragrance of lotus and wine drifts everywhere, leaving visitors refreshed and intoxicated without drinking. Thus Quyuan Fenghe became one of the 'Ten Scenes of West Lake'.

Our perspective: boats on West Lake, with Leifeng Pagoda faintly behind; in the green willow shade, facing late-spring-to-early-summer maples and acers blazing red against the sky.

Ahead was a building, the Southern Song Imperial Wine Culture Workshop, flying the flag of wine culture amidst many tea masters. What we saw wasn’t high-end Moutai, but Huangjiu (yellow wine) rich in Jiangsu-Zhejiang regional culture. The brewing process seemed familiar: Huadiao (wine jar) – steaming rice – spreading rice – placing in vat – turning the ferment – pressing – simmering wine – jarring. Finally, an advertisement: Guonian 1959, success!

We verified: the 'Qu' in Quyuan Fenghe is the 'qu' of jiuqu (wine yeast), deeply intertwined with wine for a long time. Since Gaozong’s southern crossing, Quyuan was the site of the official imperial wine workshop, and the quality base wine produced there was exclusively for imperial supply.

Walking along, we passed the former Can Xue Guan (Silkworm Study Institute) site. That tricky character '蠺' (silkworm) immediately stumped us all. We guessed desperately, wildly, saying all sorts of things, but none thought of 'silkworm.' So uncultured, shameful!

We were indeed sweating. On a hot day, Ping, Ting, and I rested at Louwailou on Beishan Street. —Where’s Zhang? —He was just here, where could he be? Just then, Zhang emerged from a nearby supermarket, approached, and shared wonderfully cool drinks with us.

A few more photos: the lush lotus leaves of Quyuan Fenghe, the Jade Belt Bridge of Quyuan Fenghe.

Time: 11:40, lunchtime. Louwailou was only my choice, but for Ping, Ting, and Zhang it was a no-go. Reason: they disdain it, don’t like the sour face of state-run restaurants. Seeing it rise high, seeing it host banquets, seeing it collapse—what great hatred to hold such a grudge!

Back to the point: Hangzhou truly is a walkable city. We love walking. We walked Jiuxi, walked the Three Temples of Tianzhu, walked Yanggong Causeway—all places good for walking. The ideal pace: diligent, lazy, free, or wandering. Under sunlight, in the warm breeze, alone or together, perceiving the real and the virtual, enjoying the present and the past. While walking, you perceive, often small, trivial things. While walking, you also think; I think therefore I am. The radiance of the soul sprouts within in a flash—at that moment, walking becomes mind walking, enlightening the mind, activating thought. On one hand, you walk in this world; on the other hand, you are detached from it. Even if someday sight leaves us, hearing betrays us, we’d still love to walk!

We passed Su Causeway, passed the tomb of Su Xiaoxiao. From the moment we crossed Xiling Bridge, our walk on Baisha Causeway began.

“North of Gushan Temple, west of Jiating Pavilion, the water surface is just level with the clouds low. A few early orioles vie for warm trees; whose new swallows peck at spring mud? Scattered flowers gradually dazzle the eye; shallow grass barely covers the horse’s hooves. Most beautiful is walking east of the lake, in the green willow shade of Baisha Causeway.” This was Bai Juyi’s poem after Baisha Causeway was built, dedicated to Gushan, to Baisha Causeway, to later generations, and to himself. Originally, Gushan resembled Penglai Palace in the middle of water, standing aloof from the world. With the flanking of Baisha Causeway and Xiling Bridge, it gradually transformed from a local landscape into a magnet for fame and fortune. From Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming, Qing to the Republic of China, each dynasty produced eminent figures and gathered historical sites, as we saw and heard during our walk: ancient like Lin Bu’s Crane-Letting Pavilion of the Northern Song, more recent like the tomb of the Republican-era Su Manshu. Named spots number no fewer than a hundred. Truly, Gushan is not solitary at all!

Lin Bu wrote two poems on the small plum trees in his mountain garden. Among them: 'Sparse shadows slant across clear shallow water, secret fragrance wafts in the moonlit dusk.' This captures all charm without revealing itself—truly the posture of plum blossoms. No wonder Lin Bu regarded the plum as his wife. Su Manshu, a remarkable figure of the Republic of China, wrote ten poems of talent. I recall: 'In spring rain at the tower’s top, the shakuhachi sighs; when shall I return to see the Zhejiang tide? Straw sandals, broken bowl, no one recognizes; how many bridges have I crossed beneath cherry blossoms?' A lone goose with broken wings, a life full of ups and downs, yet never abandoning his lofty aspirations.

Our path was along the southern foot of Gushan: from Qiu Jin’s tomb, Yu Yue’s Yu Building, Xiling Seal Society, Louwailou, Wenlan Pavilion, Zhejiang Provincial Museum, West Lake Art Museum, to Pinghu Qiuyue (Autumn Moon over the Calm Lake). We only entered Xiling Seal Society and Louwailou’s main branch.

My first acquaintance with Xiling Seal Society began with Sha Menghai. Back then in the calligraphy world, Ren Zheng was always mentioned for inscriptions, Sha Menghai for teaching. When I visited Hangzhou years ago, I always skimmed past Xiling Seal Society. Now, Ping and I entered the gate. We passed the lotus pond, then the Cypress Hall. The path we took was only the front part of Gushan, not entering the front hill, let alone climbing to the top. Ting and Zhang stayed outside all along, feasting their eyes on the beauty of West Lake.

With just one gate separating us, the photo above: Ting and Zhang’s realm; below: Ping and my heights.

Attractive faces think of marriage; interesting souls form societies. In 1904, Ye Weiming, Wu Yin, Ding Fuzhi, and Wang Fu’an founded Xiling Seal Society, known as the Four Founding Talents. 'At first, Ye Ziming, Wu Ziyin, Ding Ziren, and Wang Shouqi gathered by the lakeside, lamenting that seal studies were about to be lost. They planned to acquire a plot beside Xiling's Shufeng Pavilion, cleared some land, and built a few thatched cottages. In wind and rain, they delighted in music, auspicious stones, and ancient bronzes. They sought only seals, and thus formed a society. The society took its name from the location, so it became Xiling.' In 1913, the tenth anniversary. According to Zhang Jingxing's 'Preface to the Xiling Seal Society Membership Record': 'This spring, we again held a grand Lantern Gathering commemorative event at the original site, displaying exquisite calligraphy and paintings, promoting elegance, joy for both Chinese and foreign guests, attended by several hundred. How splendid! Tracing back to the society’s founding, it has already been ten years.' Wu Changshuo was jointly elected as president. As stated in the 'Proclamation of Xiling Seal Society': 'The president shall be elected as Chang Lao.' Hu Zongcheng wrote the 'Record of Xiling Seal Society,' personally penned by the first president Wu Changshuo.

Subsequent presidents of Xiling Seal Society were Ma Heng, Zhang Zongxiang, Sha Menghai, Zhao Puchu, Qi Gong, and Rao Zongyi. After Rao’s passing, only an executive president is appointed; the current executive president is Liu Jiang.

Ping and I, interested, moved toward the Gushan mountain gate. Ping suddenly stopped—urgent business, needed a restroom. He searched all over the front area, then went to the nearby Louwailou main branch.

Louwailou’s main branch is in a bustling center, teeming with tourists. Time: 12:20. Louwailou was no longer an option for lunch. After regrouping with Ping, the four of us headed toward Baisha Causeway east of the lake. The photos we took were only of Zhejiang Provincial Museum, West Lake Art Museum, and Baochu Pagoda—just a few sparse scenes.

After the long bridge came the broken bridge. The broken bridge didn’t break our lunch mood. After discussion, a ride-hail car took us to Hangzhou Three Sisters in Wulinmen, rated top online. But too many diners; the shop had long hung up the “no more seats” sign. We had to randomly eat some Hangzhou-style noodles nearby—friends had recommended, but it wasn’t what we’d wanted.

After the meal we hailed a ride-hail car to the internet-famous Starbucks at Xihu Tiandi. At 14:00, we were sipping Americanos. Ping, Ting, and I sat inside, enjoying the air conditioning, chitchatting. After the initial heat subsided, it felt cool, so we shifted seats. Zhang walked outdoors, becoming a figure we quietly observed among passersby.

You cannot take the blush from my face, it flourishes like a river flooding; you cannot take my vibrant soul, it drives you crazy like a feather. Reading a stanza by Tsvetaeva feels like a fiery streak passing through, like stars, like roses, slowly nurturing poetic light!

Not forgetting our original intent, letting our whims loose. By 16:00, it was time to gather our wits. The last sip of coffee, drank, and we called a taxi back to Ya Zhi·Mengxi Villa.

After an hour’s rest, we decided to make up for the lunch disappointment. Ting forwarded a local’s recommendation: Brother Hu’s Private Kitchen on Tiaozhou Bay near Nanxing Bridge. Without a second word, we closed the door, hailed a car, and left.

18:00, the car arrived at Brother Hu’s. We sat in the ground-floor lobby. The menu was written on a blackboard, with traces of changes. We ordered raucously: Malantou (Indian aster), wild bamboo shoots, edamame with stinky tofu, fish maw braised pork. And the fish? The landlady recommended: dried vegetable with yellowhead catfish. Plus a five-year-aged Kuaijishan yellow wine.

—Malantou was refreshingly crisp. —Wild bamboo shoots still had a slight astringency; adding some pickled vegetables removed it, that’s fine. —Edamame and stinky tofu: only salty and umami remained, the 'stink'? We immediately renamed the dish: Edamame with Tofu. —Fish maw braised pork tasted just like the version from the former Yellow River Road Tycoon Restaurant; this dish was cleaned out first.

The landlady’s recommended dried vegetable yellowhead catfish: such a large catfish, Ping detected a muddy taste. As for the dried vegetable, Zhang felt it was just olive vegetable in a different guise—no doubt!

The five-year Kuaijishan was smooth; we didn’t need to lean against the wall (drunk).

Night tour of Qianjiang New City, with reflections

Stuffed and satisfied, our next stop: Qianjiang New City. The ride-hail car quickly arrived at the Citizen Center in Qianjiang New City. Time: 20:00. We stopped at Hangzhou Raffles Plaza on Xinye Road. First impression upon stepping out: this might be the iconic architecture rewriting Hangzhou’s skyline.

This is Qianjiang New City, and this is also Hangzhou, but what we saw was utterly different from the West Lake area. Perhaps this is the requirement of a central city’s inclusiveness, complementarity, and diversity. The architecture has abandoned the former low-key, loose pastoral style, embracing intensive, high-end modern design: large-scale shopping malls, intelligent office buildings, high-star urban hotels, one-stop public service centers. Transportation extends late into the night, and dining and bars can be 24-hour.

We walked south along Xinye Road, passing China Life Building, Civic Center, Raffles Plaza, Deca International Center, Marriott Hotel, Hangzhou Grand Theatre, Sasseur Outlets, Hangzhou International Conference Center—all high-spec, large-scale, fully intelligent buildings. This aesthetic style is consciously or unconsciously reshaping Hangzhou’s urban construction today and tomorrow; we can wait and see.

Xinye Road ends at Zhijiang Road. We stood on the embankment beyond, the Qiantang River surging in the night. On the opposite shore, another new riverside city glittered with lights; the most dazzling structure was the Olympic Sports Center.

With so many new cities, Hangzhou is expanding its territory, enlarging urban scale. While preserving the leisure and livability of West Lake, it’s accelerating radiation to the periphery. Emerging new cities further prove that the concept 'city, make life better' is operational. Hangzhou seeks maximum benefit between development and balance. Of course, Hangzhou is also making choices: the core West Lake area is doing subtraction, so-called counter-urbanization. We are delighted to discover the changes happening in Hangzhou.

From the East, the Hangzhou you like might be a charming, strollable backyard garden; from the West, what you like might be the grand, Westernized gestures of a metropolis.

We continued west along the river embankment, from the waterside platform to the City Balcony. Few fellow walkers; occasionally we saw a few people struggling with kites. Ping liked the wide open space here; I liked the cultural and art venues; Ting and Zhang liked the quiet walkways, hand in hand, gazing into the distance with blushing faces.

The Chinese rose had fallen in love with the riverside night breeze—too lonely, too surging. And the four of us all loved the 20:30 fireworks and light show—too dazzling, too fleeting!

After the night tour of Qianjiang New City, on the taxi back to Mengxi Villa, we had an interesting chat with the driver. Over these days we’d taken many ride-hail cars, but this driver was different—an instant connection, hard to come by.

— 'Sir, thanks for your hard work. We’re going to Mengxi Villa at Jiuxi.' (We emphasized Jiuxi).

— 'Shanghai guests, all right, Jiuxi, Mengxi Villa.' (The driver’s signature response). We fastened our seatbelts; the car had gone far and soon got on the elevated road.

— 'All ride-hail cars use GPS, you don’t?' (Worried the driver might not know the way).

— 'Those ride-hail drivers are all out-of-towners working together; of course they need GPS.' (He’s a local Hangzhou driver.)

— 'Business good?'

— 'A few days ago during May Day holidays it was better, these days it’s slow again.'

— 'At least the lockdown is over.'

— 'During lockdown, taxis were okay, the company provided a safety net. Just surviving is fine.'

— 'Hangzhou has developed so impressively these past few years. Zhejiang’s leaders have achieved great success, many moved to Shanghai then to the central government. Really formidable. And that Ma Yun who crushed the banks.'

— 'Hangzhou is Shanghai’s backyard garden; we’re relatives, the leaders say so.' (He glanced at us while talking.) 'Compared to Shanghai’s big industry and commerce, Hangzhou has the internet.'

— 'Can they be compared? One is old-fashioned, the other trendy. We’re too low.' (Shanghai’s state-run tradition, supposedly the nation’s best, but the internet lags far behind. Our food delivery app Pinduoduo barely counts as one.)

— 'Ma Yun also had it hard. State vs. private, private vs. state-owned, policies are hard to control. In previous years his shares rose, but in the end the Jade Emperor took them back. So bitter.' In a flash, we saw Baita Park and Six Harmonies Pagoda.

— 'Sir, can you tell us your license plate number?'

— 'No need, at this hour the hotel can let any car in!'

— 'Impressive! A Hangzhou driver is a living map of Hangzhou, really awesome!'

As we talked, the car stopped at Ya Zhi·Mengxi Villa, a little past; the driver backed up a short distance.

— 'Thank you, sir.'

— 'Did you leave anything? Good, bye!'

Arriving at Mengxi Villa, it was already 21:30. We didn’t rush to our rooms but instead remembered the hotel’s late-night bowl of noodles. In the dining room of Building 3, we each had a small bowl of hot tomato-and-egg noodles.

Ping and I usually don’t sleep in. We woke at 6:20, already bright outside. After washing up, Ping thought about returning to Shanghai in the afternoon, so he busied himself packing. I closed the door and waited outside the hotel. During that time I ran into Zhang, greeted him. In the time it takes to smoke a pipe, Zhang had already taken a long stroll—an early bird, he had now returned to his room in Changgexing.

Then it was my turn to stroll. A dog, a new guest from last night, trotting behind its mistress.

— 'What a beautiful dog, what’s its name?'

— The mistress replied with a name, very feminine. A princess dog, but I just couldn’t remember the name, a bit maddening. Lately I’ve had forgetfulness; I truly suspect it’s a COVID aftereffect.

After leaving the hotel, ahead I saw a peasant woman holding a large round sieve, heading toward Jiuxi stream. Beside the water, she put the sieve in the rapid current and rinsed it for a long time. I took a photo.

Around 7:00, I finally waited for Ping, and the two of us took a walk nearby.

Under the sunlight, by the stream, the winding mountain path had a layer of misty brightness. Ahead was a vast tea plantation, lush green and dripping with moisture everywhere. The tea plants, neatly trimmed like horticulture, were very orderly. This was an owned tea garden, a blessed piece of land, equally nourished by rain and dew, so vivid and moist—no wonder Longjing tea is only superb when produced in areas like Shilong, Yun, Hu, Mei—truly the industry’s exquisite. We followed the field paths deeper into the tea garden, brushing shoulders with tea gentlemen, whispering tenderly. This scene was touching; our character burst forth, walking the path of discovering miracles.

Of course, where there’s a tea garden, there must be tea houses—supply end directly connected to the consumer end. What we saw: some right in the tea garden, under the shade of parasols, customers gathered in twos or threes, or sat alone. Tea, especially good tea, was never lacking. Others had built tea houses on open space by the stream, with large signs writing 'Tea.' On a larger scale, they often combined guesthouse dining, with tea drinking taking a secondary role. We noted: Camphor Forest Tea Garden, Nine Dragons Camphor Courtyard, Fengyi Tea House, Manshe Xiyuan.

I left a message on my social media: 'Tea gardens for tea farmers, tea houses for tea drinkers—we’re a two-way journey, accommodating preferences from pre-Qingming to pre-Grain Rain, from bud tea to leaf tea.'

On the way back to Mengxi Villa, I received a call from Ting: 'Already having breakfast in the hotel dining room.' — 'Give us a little time, we’ll be right there.'

No need to elaborate on the phenomenal breakfast again. After breakfast it was 9:00. Today’s plan: morning at Zhejiang University Zhijiang Campus – Six Harmonies Pagoda – Baita Park – Yanggong Causeway, lunch at Weizhuang, afternoon at Tianmuli, then return to Shanghai. But with the scorching sun at its peak today, we’d definitely be sunburned.

From Mengxi Villa to Zhejiang University Zhijiang Campus, we walked the section where Jiuxi flows into the Qiantang. To avoid the sun, we stuck to the forest.

Zhejiang University Zhijiang Campus arrived

Tip: Reservation process for Zhejiang University Zhijiang Campus: Must be made at least one day in advance; each reservation only allows access to a specific time slot at one campus. Available slots: weekdays 19:00–22:00, weekends and holidays 6:30–22:00. After a successful reservation, present your ID or 'Zheda Tong' QR code to enter through the pedestrian gate or by vehicle during the reserved time, and cooperate with on-site security inspection and instructions.

We walked a short distance along the slope of Shunyu Road. At the end stood a barrier like a horse block, with a guard at the gate, who waved us away politely. On this trip to Hangzhou, we were destined to be denied university campuses. We’d been rejected twice: once by the amazing China Academy of Art, and again by the amazing Zhejiang University. What a huge embarrassment. Our planning wasn’t solid; we were fuming inwardly, but outwardly remained calm.

The Way of Great Learning lies in illuminating bright virtue, in loving the people, and in resting in the highest good. … After things are investigated, knowledge becomes complete; knowledge complete, thoughts become sincere; thoughts sincere, hearts are rectified; hearts rectified, persons are cultivated; persons cultivated, families are regulated; families regulated, states are rightly governed; states rightly governed, the whole world is peaceful. From the Son of Heaven down to the common people, all must regard self-cultivation as the root. This is the opening sentence of 'The Great Learning' in the Confucian classics, profound in meaning. If one is to live or die for the country, why avoid troubles and misfortunes? Do today’s universities still have endless Chinese learning? Do they still possess such sentiments and realms?

Walking in Baita Park

After passing Six Harmonies Pagoda and Qiantang River Bridge, Baita Park was right in front of us.

Compared to other attractions in Hangzhou’s central city, Baita Park is relatively niche. It is the endpoint of the Beijing-Hangzhou Grand Canal cultural heritage and also the starting station of Hangzhou’s first railway over a century ago.

Once the Jiangshu Railway was under construction, once it opened, outside the old Hangzhou city wall, trains ran between five stations: Zhakou, Nanxing, Qingtai, Genshan, and Gongchen. The southern starting point Zhakou Station is now inside Baita Park.

We walked on the railway line, waited beside a green train. During that time, many past years gradually emerged from dusty memories.

Do you remember? After school, walking several kilometers just to see the green trains speeding on the tracks. It could be a steam locomotive, or a diesel locomotive, but not an electric one, because in Shanghai back then, there weren’t any!

Recalling the past: my first trip, first train ride, I even deliberately bought an ultra-slow ticket from Shanghai to Suzhou, which would slowly stop at every station and take 4 hours. Strange, right? It even had to stop at the Nanxiang marshalling yard for freight trains and tank cars. Why? Just to spend more time on the train.

Time passes like this; such feelings can remain as memories, but we must return to the present! Now, leaving the green train, we walked on the standard-gauge railway line. Past the sluice gate, past the signal light, past the station platform, past the rail junction. Ahead, a white pagoda, unremarkable, but it was the architectural relic of the Five Dynasties’ Wuyue Kingdom identified by Liang Sicheng and Lin Huiyin back then.

The Baita exhibition room displayed a 1:10 scale model of the pagoda and more textual introductions. I learned shallowly; Ping, Ting, and Zhang spent a lot of time studying deeply.

During the visit, a visitor asked, 'The Beijing-Hangzhou Grand Canal starts here, but why does Shaoxing also have such ruins?' — 'Grand Canal in the narrow sense refers to the Beijing-Hangzhou Canal, but broadly it includes the Jiangnan Canal, including Shaoxing’s water transport.' The visitor pondered and understood.

The heat was overwhelming, so Zhang decided on a whim to get us cold drinks from the indoor shop to share.

I forgot the time we left Baita Park, but I remember the ride-hail car took us to Yanggong Causeway at 10:50. We arranged lunch at Weizhuang Yunlin Lake Pavilion. Since it was still early, we walked to Viewing Fish at Flower Pond on Yanggong Causeway.

Zhiweiguan Weizhuang has a large plot of land at Flower Pond, with separate lakeside dining pavilions. Names like Zhiweiguan, Yunlin Lake Pavilion, Zhenhu Ju, Huazhou Meidi Xuan, Mengdie Lou, Hongli Villa—some are heritage, some are new made to look old. The four of us spread out on the lakeside lawn, taking in the nearby greenery and red leaves, the distant lake and mountains, plus some artificially scenic spots with people.

I wrote on my phone: 'Left the hubbub, kept the birdsong, after all it’s West Lake in May, people slept, birds awake.'

At 11:15, we could be seated for lunch, by the window at Yunlin Lake Pavilion. We ordered: Stir-fried hand-pinched veggies with crispy crackling, fermented rice buns with dried Lin’an bamboo shoots, temple-style vegetable medley, shrimp paste cubes, West Lake vinegar fish, gold-medal Longjing tea crisps, plain rice, no alcohol.

Ingenious craftsmanship, timeless flavors—some dishes poetic, some deeply tasty. Master-level cooking, but even Michelin can’t overcome street-market service. The extreme contrast, the weakest link in the barrel, all goodwill eventually came to nothing.

— 'Can’t you just bear with it?'

— 'Bear? Someone has to see for those who can’t see, speak for those who can’t speak!'

We rushed back to Ya Zhi·Mengxi Villa by taxi before 13:00, checked out—we were quick, the staff even quicker. Goodbye to the people and things of Mengxi Villa.

Using the villa’s Wi-Fi, we Baidu’d the navigation route to Tianmuli: Jiuxi Road – Zhijiang Road – Zhipu Road – Zhipu Road – Zijiang Tunnel – Zijingang Road – Tianmushan Road – Zijinhua Road – Gujing Alley – Tianmuli. The Zijiang Tunnel is Hangzhou’s longest tunnel.

Through the long tunnel, we drove at least half an hour, arriving at Tianmuli at 14:00. First, let’s read the introduction to Tianmuli: Designed by renowned architect Renzo Piano, 17 individual buildings form the main body of Tianmuli, centered around a plaza called 'City Living Room,' interspersed with a central garden, Water Mirror Plaza, and tree arrays, cutting off from the outside while maintaining internal connections. The 11 sunken courtyards in the 'City Living Room' were personally designed by Japanese dry landscape master Shunmyo Masuno and his team, with three Zen themes from north to south: Wind, Water, Emptiness.

Free beyond West Lake, roaming Tianmuli. From the underground parking lot, we took the elevator to the ground level. The first scene: Water Mirror Plaza, within the limited space framed by steel structures, spreading outward. Lowering myself, my vision extended infinitely without bounds. If one were to select a theme, city and water—this is a nourishment that has accompanied generations. The water mirror is like a bright mirror, with heaven and earth as witness.

Walking north from Water Mirror Plaza, another empty space paved with gravel, with four or five chairs placed, was a small plaza corresponding to the uneven buildings. Trees grew from the ground up to the sky. Tranquility, Zen-like, minimalistic, low desire—a wabi-sabi wind blew between the buildings.

A trapezoidal stairway led us to the basement level. Walking, in front of Buildings 7 and 8 stood an advertising board for BLOCK, the flagship store of Building 11. On the basement level, we were greeted by Moon and Sixpence Café and JNBY. We headed straight for the Tsutaya Bookstore.

This is the first Chinese store of Tsutaya Bookstore, which entered Tianmuli in October 2020. In Shanghai we often visited Tsutaya, spending entire days there. The bookstore’s layout surpasses many libraries; brand-new books are undamaged, with a wide range of content, plus cultural derivatives and various toys for sale.

Beautiful, aesthetic, snap snap snap, I aimed my lens at the bookshelves, at the wall decorations.

We spent over half an hour in the bookstore, each searching for our ideal bookshelf, browsing. Ping, Ting, and Zhang added travel, design, literature, and history to their selections. As for me, from some shelf I picked up 'The Secret Life of Walter Mitty,' placed it on a desk to keep up appearances, but my phone wasn’t idle. I sent out photos, and a little girl replied: 'I absolutely love Takagi Naoko’s illustrated books!'

On the basement level, there are the three Zen garden themes by Shunmyo Masuno: Wind, Water, Emptiness. From south to north, we saw a garden with one tree and a water cascade on the wall—only two spots. I guessed, allowing for errors: the one tree might be the Wind Garden, where big trees attract wind; the cascading water on the wall should be the Water World Garden.

Muli San Ke Yinghua (a cinema) was also near Tsutaya Bookstore. We passed by. This is an innovator of diversified services in the film industry: cinema by day, bar by night. Waiters can even serve precisely, allowing viewers to eat while watching a movie, catering to the pursuit of greater speed and convenience by the new generation of latecomers.

The future has arrived. Business formats adhere to simplicity yet innovate. Behind them, material desires, emotions, and realms all harbor aesthetic thinking deeply. People say there’s nothing wrong with this place except the crowds. If you must find fault, it’s me—the commercial space must adapt to all kinds of quirky personalities like mine, even if it’s niche.

At 15:00, we were about to say goodbye to the bookstore, to Tianmuli, to Hangzhou. Before leaving, the four of us made up four lines as a memento of the Hangzhou trip:

— On life’s middle path, still a young-hearted lad,

— Sky full of starlight, a maiden’s heart glad.

— Men are boys till the very end,

— By the Water West Bridge, long shadows we send.

Tsutaya Bookstore – Shanghai: 200 km ahead, a 3-hour drive. We set off!

2023-06-18