May Day memories--Always remember to look up at the stars
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Shenzhen to Hangzhou
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On the evening of April 29th, I set off for home, carrying an old backpack. I couldn't remember how many years I'd had it — I only knew that this trip nearly tore its handle off. Inside were clothes I'd changed out of and hadn't washed yet, plus a change of clothes (a T-shirt, shorts, underwear, and socks), along with an extra pair of shorts, a pair of long pants, and a razor. I also had a small crossbody bag containing an e-ink reader, a power bank, and the keys to my Shenzhen apartment.</p>
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I didn't work late that night. A little past eight, almost nine, I finished dinner, packed up, and left. The plan was to take the bus from Fufeng Road South to the metro station. But I stood there waiting for maybe ten or fifteen minutes before I checked the navigation app and realized: the bus I wanted had already stopped running. I couldn't help but blame myself for not checking the route sooner. I had no choice but to take a taxi — eleven yuan, not too bad. I took the metro to Bao'an Airport Terminal 3. It was my first time there, and I couldn't help feeling a little nervous. I had to ask the staff how to get my boarding pass. Airports are complicated places where people from all kinds of financial backgrounds come together. It made me a bit uncomfortable, but I'd been through this kind of situation a few times before, and after a while, I stopped minding. The security check made me feel insecure and distrusted — when was the last time someone invaded my privacy like this?</p>
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Waiting at the gate was agonizing. My flight was delayed. It was supposed to take off at eleven at night but got pushed past midnight. I had enough energy to read at first, but later, though exhausted, I just couldn't fall asleep. I was afraid I'd miss the flight — I was alone, and no one would think to remind me. Yawn after yawn, I couldn't stop.</p>
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Once I boarded, I found my seat and sat down. I read the safety card in the seat pocket in front of me. I stared out the window, lost in thought. In the distance, the boarding tunnel had a sign that read "AI? Use Alibaba Cloud." Okay then, I thought — I won't. I wasn't interested in the screen in front of me at first, but the woman next to me opened up some kind of flight tracking display. I found it interesting and started fiddling with mine too.</p>
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The plane took off. The two drops right after liftoff made me a bit nervous. Then the plane gradually climbed, adjusting its angle. Watching the massive objects on the ground shrink into tiny points of light, I thought: this is only the second time I've been this far from the earth. The plane slowly drifted through the clouds, rising to cruising altitude. At one moment I saw the altitude read 8,871 meters — already higher than Mount Everest. I still felt dizzy and uncomfortable on the plane. There was this constant beeping sound that annoyed me. But when the plane bumped through turbulence, I wasn't scared. There was a strange calm inside me, as if I knew I wasn't going to die. And even if I did — wouldn't there be compensation? :)</p>
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Hangzhou's cold caught me off guard
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The plane landed at Hangzhou Xiaoshan Airport at 2:40 in the morning. The moment I stepped out into the skywalk, I regretted everything: why didn't I bring a long-sleeved jacket? Watching everyone else bundle themselves up tightly, I looked like an idiot in my Shenzhen outfit. I walked over to an area with benches where people were sleeping — each person curled up on two seats, looking as uncomfortable as could be. I still had a pair of long pants in my bag. I glanced around; people were sleeping, no one was watching me. I pulled out the pants and put them on over my shorts. Finally, a little warmth. I was cold and tired, so I followed their example, curled myself into a ball, and tucked myself into the seat. But I couldn't get comfortable. I drifted in and out of a daze until sometime past five in the morning.</p>
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Then I walked out of the airport onto the road. From the terminal to the metro entrance — at most a hundred meters — but it felt like a kilometer. Every skeletal muscle in my body was shivering, trying to generate heat, but it wasn't enough. I walked while looking for food. Eventually I found a place selling wontons. Forty-nine yuan for a bowl of wontons and a chicken leg — what the hell, that's way too expensive! But then I thought about my shivering body. Expensive or not, I had to eat. Better than freezing to death.</p>
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I took the metro from Xiaoshan to Fengqi Road. It was 7:10 in the morning. I wanted to take a stroll around West Lake. Back in 2022, when I was <a href="/posts/where-have-been-when-delivering/">delivering food</a>, I'd pass by this area sometimes, but I'd never actually gone in. I walked clockwise along the lake. There were lots of people there — some walking, some jogging, some dancing, some practicing with staffs. I just walked, unhurriedly, watching the distant Su Causeway stretch across the view like a wavy line, splitting the scenery into an upper and lower half. The morning sun shone on my body, but it didn't bring any warmth.</p>
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I kept walking, and found a wooden bench by the lake. I sat down to rest. I looked at the surface of the lake, at the sightseeing boats drifting on the water, and my thoughts began to scatter in all directions. I got up from the bench and walked a bit further. Without really knowing why, I felt like leaving. I opened the map to figure out how to get to West Lake Cultural Square. Oh — I'd need to take the metro from Ding'an Road. So I walked. Along the way, I passed plenty of shops selling silk cheongsams and fabrics — they looked beautiful and delicate, and definitely not cheap. I walked past one shop, but then a thought suddenly flashed through my mind: why not buy a gift for Mom? I turned back and asked the shopkeeper how much the scarves were. There were several price ranges. I picked one with a nice pattern that seemed like good value for money. When I got home and gave it to her, Mom was really happy.</p>
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By the time I reached West Lake Cultural Square, the sun had started to warm up. Finally, some real heat. I wandered around the square, but even resting in the shade of the trees, I could still feel a chill. Later I walked over to the Grand Canal, drawn by the sound of elderly men playing the saxophone. That bright, crisp sound stopped me in my tracks. If it weren't for that damn work nagging at me, I probably could have enjoyed it even more. In April and May in Hangzhou, trees along the canal were in bloom, and beneath them an old man was playing a love song with deep emotion. Who was he playing for?</p>
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I walked to Midu Bridge Road, hoping to find the fast-food place I used to eat at back then. It was gone. But Song Sun Bakery was still there. And the Sha County小吃 shop was still there. Time lets the things that can endure keep on enduring.</p>
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Going home, going back to the countryside
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I took the high-speed train home. The moment I walked through the door and saw my parents, it felt both strange and natural. I hadn't set foot in this house for over a year. Like old friends reunited after a long separation, I naturally slipped right back in. During the May Day holiday, I went back to the village to see my grandpa, who's in his nineties now. His hearing isn't what it used to be — you have to speak louder for him to hear. I looked out at the endless wheat fields and felt so much that was fresh and new, filling me with curiosity.</p>
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I took a lot of photos: a single stalk of wheat standing upright like a peacock with its tail not yet fanned out; a bee's slender legs gripping an awn of wheat; a bee working hard to pollinate flowers in a patch of wildflowers; my dad riding his homemade electric tricycle with a canopy, turning a corner; the endless wheat fields captured from just the right angle; glistening green chili seedlings freshly watered; tiny cucumber seedlings that looked like bean sprouts; an unassuming little four-petal flower — one white petal, three gradient blue; the persimmon tree in the courtyard; the big tree next to Grandpa's kitchen; fennel with its clearly defined veins; the harmonious scene of a big tree and a house together; a fava bean pod resting in the palm of my hand.</p>
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I took so many photos. It made me rediscover the beauty of the countryside.</p>
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Meeting my middle school classmate Li
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He and I meet every year — have a meal, catch up on life. I didn't come home for the New Year holiday this year, so I was glad we could make up for it during May Day. We agreed to meet at the gate of our high school (we went to the same high school, though in different classes). We walked and talked — about our plans for the future, about the latest applications of AI technology, about family stuff, about what we'd been reading lately, about how we'd each grown. Life keeps pushing us forward, whether we like it or not. All we can do is face it with the best version of ourselves. Only then can we truly say: I've lived my life fully enough, richly enough.</p>
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Going for a run at the sports field
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On May 1st and May 3rd, I went running at the sports field near our house in the county town. On the 1st, I only managed two kilometers before my knees started aching. On the 3rd — that's today — I ran three intervals, totaling 2.6 kilometers. Some of it was a slow jog, some was pushing myself to find my limits, and some was to feel what they call "the strong wind blowing against you." The wind rushing past my ears, that whooshing sound, the exhilaration of sprinting at full speed — it captivated me.</p>
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When I run, the wind flows along my body. In the moment of running, everything seems to stop. There's only one goal: keep moving forward.</p>
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Always remember to look up at the stars
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On the night of the 1st, I looked up at the sky — no stars yet. But today, the day before I leave, I can see the sky full of stars. That makes me genuinely happy.</p>
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I still remember when I was younger — I could sprint a full four hundred meters at full speed without stopping, and still have energy to keep going. Now I can only manage two-thirds of that. My body isn't what it used to be. As I get older, there are more and more things to deal with, and I've been paying less attention to my physical health. That's not good. If this keeps up, my body will only get slower and duller, and my spirit will grow numb, unable to feel the beauty of life. That kind of decline is like a nightmare to me.</p>
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After my run, I went to buy some street food — some grilled gluten skewers, two pancakes. While eating, I stood a little way off from the roadside and noticed three people on tricycles, planning to sell snacks by the street. Two women and a man — they looked pretty young. I got curious and kept watching. A couple came by to buy something. I noticed the look on their faces as they bought the food — they seemed happy. It suddenly made me think: if you want to win a woman's heart, winning her stomach is a pretty good way to go. I should work on my cooking skills from now on. And then I started wondering: what does romance between two people really look like?</p>
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