Blossom Season Delights: Nanjing, Yangzhou, Xinghua, Wuxi, Yixing

As swallows soar and grass grows tall, spring stirs the heart once more—time to pick up the Xinghua Qianduo rapeseed flower trip, delayed a year. Skipping an overnight in Nanjing was to avoid one more hotel check-in/check-out and shuttling between station and hotel. But with cherry blossoms in season, a quick visit was a must.

Stepping off the plane, hauling luggage was a pain. Since I had to catch an intercity train from Nanjing Station to Yangzhou that evening, I simply stashed my bags at the station and set off light and free.

Pressed for time, I hit a foolproof food court nearby to fill my rumbling stomach. Pity the crabmeat lion’s head meatballs were already sold out.

After eating, I went straight through Xuanwu Gate into Xuanwu Lake Park. On a blossom-season weekend, as my primary school essays used to say, crowds streamed by, shoulder to shoulder. The adorable giant yellow duck on the lake had turned black—give it time, and it could be the mascot for some black duck brand.

I entered the park an hour later than planned, so I had to skip Lovers’ Garden, the Long Causeway, and the city wall section, paring my route to just Liangzhou, Huanzhou, Yingzhou, and Lingzhou islets.

The park brimmed with spring beauty—a hundred flowers vying for attention, with cherry blossoms at their peak.

Cherry blossoms blush on the paths, willow leaves green by the pond.

Amid the swallows’ chirping, longing for another year.

Spring is not yet old, a breeze soft and willows slanting.

I’d heard there was a green cherry blossom in the park, so I kept glancing around, dreading to miss it like my fruitless search all over Wuhan years before. Then, unexpectedly, I turned my head by the Yingzhou corridor and finally set eyes on it. Rare and precious, amid miles of blossoms, one green cherry tree held my heart.

Exiting Jiefang Gate, I faced the Jiming Temple Cherry Blossom Avenue.

To grasp form and emptiness as Buddhist work, they planted fragrant trees where monks dwell.

Looking close, it’s an Avatamsaka verse; the wind opens wisdom flowers with ease.

Leaving Jiming Temple, I dashed to the station for the next stop: Yangzhou.

In Yangzhou, I booked a room at Changle Inn, half hotel, half historic site. That made exploring Shuangdong Historic District a breeze and saved time and effort, with Slender West Lake nearby. My sneaky logic: staying at Changle meant I could skip Geyuan and Heyuan and save the entrance fees. Haha.

Changle Inn was full of old-world charm. My first impression: the threshold was so high I wrestled my suitcase over it. After check-in, a staff member led me and my luggage through winding paths and endlessly bumpy flagstone lanes. The vibrations numbed my hands so badly I almost turned back, but the thought of hauling the suitcase all the way out again made me pray the room would appear soon. After many twists and turns, I finally arrived—and it exceeded expectations. Rooms are in small two-story buildings, two per floor; book two and you get a private little nook. The listing said 25 square meters, which usually means no room to turn around beside the beds, but it felt more like 40 square meters—not a trace of crampedness.

I dropped my bags and headed back to Shuangdong Street to eat. Even in a tourist zone, a set meal deal I found online was a bargain and tasty.

After eating, I showered and hit the sack. Next morning meant an early start for a food quest.

Yechun Garden opens at 6:45 a.m. Online tips said to queue by 6:30 or face a long wait. Try as I might, I only got out the door at 6:45. The street was empty—surely no one would be that early, right?

Turns out, no earliest, only earlier. By 7 a.m., every seat was taken; I had to wait for the first round of diners to finish. I killed time entertaining my empty stomach with creative writing.

I waited a solid hour, then swapped my number slip for a table card to order. Holding that long card, I felt like I was striding onto the Miss Hong Kong stage. Was hunger making me hallucinate?

From observation, one round takes about an hour. Latecomers might consider touring Slender West Lake first, but then the signature dim sum might sell out—so early arrival is still key. I heard you can pre-book set meals, but they aren’t available to order on-site. Those sets include all the must-try classics; if interested, do your homework.

Done eating, I wiped my mouth and went to explore Slender West Lake. Fuchun is just across the street, and there’s another Yechun branch near Slender West Lake and on Shuangdong Street. Yechun Garden has the best ambiance—the Shuangdong Street branch, by contrast, is dim and gloomy inside. If the flavors are the same and everywhere has a queue, my pick is Yechun Garden.

Weeping willows stretch endlessly to fading grass, a red bridge like wild geese forms a picture drawn.

A crucible of melting gold—rightly called Slender West Lake.

Inside the scenic area, I wandered, seeking blossoms and greenery, flirting with every flower. The crowds were even thicker than at Xuanwu Lake the day before.

The south half, with Long Spring Causeway, Xiaojinshan, Fishing Platform, Five-Pavilion Bridge, and Twenty-Four Bridge, was a swarm of heads. I much preferred the north half—Myriad Flowers Garden, Open Grove Breeze Gazing, and the like. I especially loved the exterior wall design of the Yang-style Bonsai Museum, with a distinct Suzhou Museum vibe.

Exiting the north gate, I searched online and scouted on foot: no suitable place to eat nearby. I ended up at Liuheju for lunch, but this so-called vegetarian restaurant, enjoying a monopoly, didn’t live up to its lofty name.

In the afternoon, I headed to Jianzhen Road’s cherry blossom avenue for more photo ops. The road was packed, and entering from Pingshan North Road meant backlight, bad for photos. Once I reached Xihu Road, the crowd thinned. Faced with such beauty, surely even the great master would not pass up infinite spring splendor.

Day three: Xinghua rapeseed flowers. To dodge crowds, I deliberately chose a weekday. Getting from Yangzhou to Xinghua by public transport was a hassle, so I opted for a one-day tour from Yangzhou—transport headaches solved.

Rivers wind with jade green waters in a thousand bays, every field mound is golden without a single gap.

Once a battlefield against invaders, now a sea of golden blossoms stretching on and on. Thousand-island canola—the most distinctive rapeseed flower landscape anywhere.

Clouds are the soul of rosy clouds; bees, the spirit of flowers.

After lunch, I chose Lizhong Water Forest to keep exploring.

The scenic area is half water, half land. Drifting on a wooden raft across still waters, weaving among towering trees, wild ducks doze by the shore with idle ease, old trees in bloom have no ugly branch. Blue sky, white clouds, green trees, birds in flight, reflections dancing, light and shadow shifting—all weariness melted away, pure bliss. Stepping ashore, a boardwalk twisted into a secluded path. Wooden tables and chairs oozed rustic charm, February orchids bloomed brilliantly everywhere, stone bridges arched over gentle waves, pavilions brushed the clouds. Walking through the forest, all was tranquil; only birdsong echoed, breezes brushed my face and swept away every worry, making me long to fall asleep right there. But too-good things often come with surprises: the many water birds roosting here can turn into bombers at any moment, dropping white “bombs”—see who gets lucky.

Back in Yangzhou at night, I strolled onto Dongguan Street and found a bathhouse. Savored a traditional rubdown by an old Yangzhou master, and days of fatigue melted from body to soul.

After three nights at Changle Inn, I finally got to try the included breakfast.

After eating, I wandered through Jienan Study (Twelve Scenic Spots). The hotel reception is on the Jienan Study side; to reach the guest rooms, you exit through a side gate and pass through a small door into the real Changle Inn. All along, we’d been going directly in and out of Changle Inn—that was handier. Finally, I figured out the route, just in time to leave.

While taking photos, clusters of willow catkins drifted in the wind. Truly:

Waking at sunrise with no particular mood, idly watching children catch willow fluff.

I’d arranged for the front desk to help with luggage. Riding an electric cart, we glided effortlessly to the roadside of Shuangdong District. For this service, for this poetic feel, Changle Inn, I’ll be back.

Last year saw the opening of a high-speed rail from Yangzhou to Wuxi, making travel even smoother.

In Wuxi, my first stop was Yufu Island, hoping to shoot the sunset, but visibility was poor. Disappointed, I circled Lihu Lake, passing Yufu Island, Bogong Island, and Lihu Light. In my letdown, I stumbled on a plant I’d never seen—mountain mulberry. I loved its clusters of red leaves.

One good photo was enough—off to eat!

At Yuantouzhu, the Somei Yoshino and other early cherry varieties were fading, with late bloomers just starting. The right timing should be half a month before Qingming Festival; that’s when night cherry blossom viewing is on too.

Yesterday snow fell like flowers, today flowers fall like snow.

Mountain cherry like a beauty—its rosy face soon fades away.

No snow-blown blossoms to see, only petals fluttering down like snow.

Pluck the flowers when they bloom, don’t wait for blossoms to fall on empty branches.

Seven-masted fishing boats with no sails unfurled just didn’t feel right.

Why did these boats always look like pirate ships to me? Haha, my imagination always runs wild.

Leaving Yuantouzhu, I unearthed a hidden gem—Lihu Central Park—to while away the time. Spring scenery bursting with blossoms, yet I was stubbornly in the mood for some autumnal bleakness. Just indulging my whim.

Dinner, at least, called for something vibrant and lively.

Alright, time to set off for the last stop: Yixing. With time to spare, I took a long-distance bus, swaying leisurely along. Out of the station, as usual I stored my luggage and hunted for food.

A restaurant I found online—what gave me the nerve to trudge two kilometers in a drizzle (I took the wrong way) just to eat there? Surprisingly, the flavors were spot on. The portions were massive; I over-ordered, yet we polished it all off. But right then, please, no sight of anything resembling a scale.

The original plan was to stroll around Tuanjiu. Had I subconsciously known I’d overeat and planned this walk all along?

Fine willows, fine rain, spring lies in the misty haze.

I drove to Bamboo Sea International Conference Center. Die-hard foodies are top of the heap—no sooner had I dropped my bags than I was scouting for eats again. This place became our canteen for the last two days. Their complimentary iron-sheet roasted peanuts were deeply flavorful, though they took some gnawing. After the meal, I haggled playfully with the handsome owner for an extra few packets—just for laughs, really.

Bamboo Sea is probably better visited in summer or autumn. But after days of feasting on meat, if I didn’t soak up some bamboo vibes, I might turn unbearably vulgar.

Clear air moistens the bamboo grove, white light merges with the empty sky.

The bamboo forest holds a gentle breeze, its lingering charm resonates on and on.

The higher I climbed, the thicker the fog—truly “deep in clouds, no knowing where.”

Heading home, I ran into air traffic control. Wandering Wuxi Airport, I discovered that by logging onto an airline’s loyalty site, I could redeem miles for goods. Haha, who knew this journey would end with me snagging a little freebie!