<p class="ql-block">June 10, 7:30AM</p><p class="ql-block">Just past four in the morning, the first faint light of dawn quietly crept into my hotel room. In the height of summer, daybreak arrives exceptionally early in Beijing. Changing into a lightweight athletic shirt and putting on my sunglasses, I stepped out for a leisurely stroll through the streets of Daxing. At this hour, the avenues were empty and serene. The occasional passing car only seemed to deepen the profound morning stillness. The air was comfortably cool, free of any oppressive heat or humidity; walking through it, a sense of peace settled over my mind.</p><p class="ql-block">My home is far away in the United States, separated from this place by vast oceans and countless mountains. It sits in a quiet, elegant neighborhood, though at this moment, the house stands empty. My wife, who usually holds down the fort alone, happens to be in China as well, traveling through Zhejiang Province. It is currently the plum rain season there. The relentless, grey downpours and sticky humidity have been difficult for her to tolerate, prompting her to call and ask me to book her return flight as soon as possible. As the years accumulate, my understanding of "home" has gradually shifted. Our three children have all carved out their own lives; two are happily married with established careers, and while the youngest remains single, they have built an independent life that is orderly and secure, leaving us with nothing to worry about. Independent and focused on their respective lives and careers, they only return home for occasional reunions. We have grown accustomed to our separate routines, keeping in touch via phone and the internet during our leisure time. The traditional notion of an extended family living under one roof no longer applies to us; instead, the invisible tether of blood and affection has become the warmest definition of home. Because of this, during my days in Daxing, I haven’t felt much homesickness. Instead, a sense of curiosity has bloomed within me—a desire to step closer, to understand today's Beijing, and to truly know this land. Compared to the stifling humidity of the South, Beijing’s climate is just right—neither too dry nor plagued by lingering dampness. It is no wonder my wife is eager to return here.</p> <p class="ql-block">The Daxing Biomedical Base, where I am currently staying, is a fascinating place. Running alongside it is the Yongxing River. At first, I mistakenly thought it was the famous Yongding River, only to learn later that it is actually a tributary. Though they share a deep lineage and a common source, their temperaments are entirely different. The Yongxing River is gentle and placid. The wetland park along its banks offers delightful scenery; right now, it is the season of ripening fruit, with mulberries and apricots weighing down the branches, and visitors occasionally wandering in to pick them. Come spring, this place becomes a tapestry of wild blossoms, filling the air with fragrance. The area is sparsely populated and thrumming with natural vitality—a quality I find immensely endearing.</p><p class="ql-block">Always curious about what the true Yongding River looked like, I traced its path on a map and discovered it wasn’t far from where I work. Yesterday after clocking off, I followed the route and drove out to find it. My first glimpse of the Yongding River revealed a completely different grandeur: a wide channel and a rushing, turbulent current. Perhaps due to ecological preservation and safety concerns, barriers lined the riverside roads, leaving few paths leading directly to the water's edge. I drove along the perimeter for a long time until I finally encountered a bridge spanning the river. Peering over the edge, I saw that despite it being the dry season, the water—though not particularly deep—rushed forward with fierce velocity, the roar of the torrent clearly audible. Beneath the bridge piers, a few anglers braved the swift current to fish. I stood there watching for a long while, capturing numerous photos and videos.</p><p class="ql-block">The Yongding River is a crucial water source for Beijing, nestled right against the heart of the imperial city—truly a river born at the feet of emperors. In ancient times, monarchs bestowed upon it the name *Yongding*—meaning "Eternal Peace"—hoping it would remain dutiful, gentle, and cease to stir up trouble. Yet, this river possesses a stubborn pride, never conforming to human will. Throughout history, its catastrophic floods repeatedly shattered the expectations of the world, fiercely guarding its innate wildness. Its channel twists and turns, the vegetation on both banks growing wildly with minimal artificial landscaping. Occasionally, one can spot locals casting nets to catch fish, painting a picture of raw, pristine nature. Shaped by its geography, the fierce spirit in its bones has never waned. In its current dry state, it resembles a wild horse that has temporarily hidden its edge, allowing a glimpse of docility. Yet, it is not hard to imagine the terrifying majesty of 2023, when Beijing was battered by torrential rains and this river transformed into a raging mountain torrent, swallowing everything in its path.</p> <p class="ql-block">Comparing it to other rivers makes the experience even more intriguing. It stands in stark contrast to the tidal canal of my hometown that flows into the sea. The waters of my youth drifted lazily; as a boy, I often gathered shells where the river met the ocean. That gentle, leisurely rhythm is worlds apart from the unbridled wildness of the Yongding. Looking abroad, the Hudson in New York, the Charles in Boston, the Seine in Paris, and the Thames in London are all characterized by placid currents and meticulously manicured, elegant riverbanks. Then there is the Chicago River, which connects to the great Lake Michigan; framed by towering skyscrapers, it embodies urban prosperity. Its riverwalks are exquisitely designed, and at dawn, tourists and locals alike jog along the banks. Human life and the river coexist in a vibrant, bustling harmony.</p><p class="ql-block">Even when looking at domestic rivers, the contrasts are striking. The Yangtze and Yellow Rivers possess a staggering grandeur with which the Yongding cannot compete in volume. The Xin'an and Fuchun Rivers in my wife’s hometown are cradled by green mountains and crystal-clear waters, epitomizing the delicate, poetic beauty of southern Chinese landscapes. Nanjing's Qinhuai River carries the romance and cultural echoes of a thousand years, while Chengdu's Jinjiang River (also known as the South River) cuts through the heart of the city, nestled amidst bustling urban life where residents stroll daily and waterbirds preen their feathers—a picture of relaxed, everyday warmth.</p><p class="ql-block">These other rivers either dissolve into urban sophistication or are steeped in southern tenderness, gently wrapped in human habitation and daily life. The Yongding River, however, does not cut through the city center; it maintains its distance from the urban core, allowing it to preserve its untamed spirit entirely. Its rebellious, untethered wildness seems almost incompatible with the heavy, imperial dignity of Beijing. Even though they spring from the same root, its tributary, the Yongxing River, lacks this bold, piercing aura entirely. The stretch of the Yongding I witnessed was crystal clear yet rushing with shallow, fierce energy, possessing the distinct, unyielding backbone of northern rivers.</p><p class="ql-block">I have never harbored much enthusiasm for towering city skylines; my heart belongs solely to flowing rivers. This dedicated journey to seek out the Yongding River, to witness its raw and authentic form with my own eyes, has finally fulfilled a long-held wish. Walking through the wetland park along the Yongxing River this morning, the images of my first encounter with the Yongding yesterday kept echoing in my mind. Though I have traveled across countless mountains and seas, rivers remain my ultimate devotion. Every drop of flowing water stirs a myriad of emotions deep within me. Water is the origin of life, water is the final destination of life, and water is where my soul truly resides.</p>