<p class="ql-block">August 30, 8:00AM</p><p class="ql-block">On March 29th, I arrived in Beijing for the first time. Exactly five months later, on August 29th, the United Airlines flight I was on landed punctually at Capital International Airport. Beijing had bid farewell to its vibrant spring blooms; midsummer had quietly drawn to a close, giving way to the lush foliage of early autumn. Returning to Daxing once more, I checked into the same hotel and stayed in the exact room I had reserved when I left.</p><p class="ql-block">When I left, a fleeting thought crossed my mind: perhaps I might never return. Yet, after all the twists and turns of life, I found myself back on this familiar soil, filled with renewed anticipation.</p><p class="ql-block">When I last left, I took all my belongings with me. Coming back this time, it occurred to me that I didn’t need to haul everything back and forth, so I simply bought what I needed locally. A week before returning to Beijing, I ordered four items online from my home in the US: a pickleball paddle, knee braces, tennis shoes, and wristbands. Before I even arrived, the packages had already been delivered to the hotel, safely held by the front desk staff. The efficiency and convenience of domestic courier services—capable of precise delivery to a designated hotel even when ordered from overseas—is truly impressive.</p><p class="ql-block">My first night was spent battling jet lag—night here corresponds to daytime in the US. After a light sleep following dinner, I woke up and got straight out of bed to catch up on work. Reflecting on when I first joined the team this February, taking on an oncology project from scratch, I repeatedly revised the clinical trial protocol, making major adjustments based on past experience. Just this past week, the protocol was approved and patients officially began enrollment, sparking a quiet sense of accomplishment. I included this milestone in my weekly report, hoping the company can see the value I am generating here.</p><p class="ql-block">Late at night, I video-called my wife back home in Princeton twice to check on her. Left alone at home with a foot injury, she is still unable to move around freely, though she has made significant progress in her recovery. I hope she heals completely very soon.</p><p class="ql-block">I got up at five in the morning. In spring, the sky was already fully bright by this hour, but at five o'clock now, the sky remains shrouded in darkness, making the seasonal shift acutely tangible. The air already carries the crisp, refreshing breath of autumn.</p> <p class="ql-block">Heading out for a walk, I thought I might pick up some snacks along the way. I instinctively slipped my wallet into my pocket, only to realize a second later that it would be entirely useless. During my months in Beijing, I haven't touched cash once; I still haven't set up a local credit card and haven't used one either. All transactions, large and small, are handled entirely through my phone. No cash, no bank cards—everything can be paid for with a single device in hand. It’s a striking, intuitive contrast between Chinese and American daily habits. Much like the efficient express delivery, it makes you feel as though you are living in two completely different worlds.</p><p class="ql-block">Standing at the hotel entrance, I hesitated over which way to go. To the south lay the main expanse of Yongxing Wetland Park; to the north was just a quarter of the park, beyond which flowed the Yongxing River. A colleague had mentioned last night that the lotuses were still blooming. I decided to head north to see the riverbank lotuses and grab some food at CapitaMall on my way back.</p><p class="ql-block">Walking into the northern section of Yongxing River Wetland Park, I found the trees lush and green, the paths deserted, and the surroundings completely quiet save for the chorus of birdsong. The poplars stood tall and straight, free from the annoying flying willow catkins of spring. Many of these poplars were over a decade old with thick trunks; those growing densely in groves along the river had trunks about the width of a bowl. Because they were planted close together, their main stems stretched straight upward without spreading outward, capturing precisely the unique posture of the poplar praised by Mao Dun in Ode to the Poplar.</p><p class="ql-block">The banks of the Yongxing River were thick with vegetation, and reeds choked the water, obscuring this stretch of the riverbed. The water level here was shallow, relying on upstream water released from Niantan Park for replenishment. When water came from upstream, there was a river; given the higher elevation, whenever the supply was cut off, the riverbed nearly dried up. This contrasted sharply with the deeper northern stretches of water, where lotuses and sagittaria flourished and anglers frequently fished along the banks.</p><p class="ql-block">By the time I walked all the way to the vicinity of CapitaMall, the sun had climbed high into the sky. Planning to browse the mall on my return trip, I continued walking along the path skirting the edge of the park.</p><p class="ql-block">I had previously looked up the background of Yongxing Wetland Park. "One generation plants the trees under whose shade another man rests"—it is truly rare and wonderful that this place has now become such a fine sanctuary for a morning stroll and relaxation.</p><p class="ql-block">Inside the park were several flat-roofed, open pavilions resembling yurts, featuring wide ventilation windows on all sides. Without the roof canopy, they would be completely open-air; sitting inside, the air was breezy and fresh, though they offered little shelter against wind or rain. On ordinary days, people practiced musical instruments here, and internet influencers came to film videos. However, one pavilion had become a night shelter for a homeless person. Before leaving in the spring, I had already seen someone set up camp here, and today I spotted someone else soundly asleep under a cyan quilt in another pavilion. Inwardly, I silently hoped that, if circumstances permitted, this was merely a carefree outdoor camping trip rather than a desperate lack of shelter due to hardship. I only wished that when the harsh winter arrives, these "campers" would find a secure place to stay.</p><p class="ql-block">The contrast in how American and Chinese societies treat the homeless is stark. Unhoused people can be seen everywhere on American streets, while they are rarely spotted on domestic streets. If these two "campers" were reported, one wonders if they could continue sleeping here undisturbed. There is no simple question of which is better or worse; it is simply a matter of differing social realities, each with its own pros and cons.</p> <p class="ql-block">Crossing Weiyong Road, I stepped onto the walking path along the Yongxing River bank. A vast expanse of lotus leaves suddenly burst into view. The peak blooming season had passed, with only a few straggling blossoms lingering here and there. The morning sun rose from the east side of the river; standing on the west bank, I watched the flowers face away from the light, standing gracefully above layers of broad lotus leaves.</p><p class="ql-block">Many fishing enthusiasts had gathered by the river. Fishing was not just about catching fresh fish from the water, but a form of self-cultivation. Weeping willows lined the riverbank, their slender branches swaying gently, accompanied by the drone of cicadas and insects. The pond full of lotus leaves and flowers painted a vibrant, down-to-earth picture of a Beijing morning. This was also a popular internet check-in spot, and footage of it frequently popped up on WeChat Channels.</p><p class="ql-block">Following the terrain, this section of the river flowed from north to south. To retain water levels, stone weir dams sectioned off and stored water like a series of small reservoirs. During the dry season, I used to cross the river by stepping on the exposed stones; now, with the water level risen, most of the stones were submerged, making it inconvenient to wade across.</p><p class="ql-block">Upstream of the dam, sprawling patches of lotus leaves grew wild and unbridled. By now, the leaves had long shed the tender appearance they wore when first emerging from the water in spring; they were massive like umbrellas, packed closely together as they vied for sunlight. Year after year, born in spring, flourishing in summer, and withering in autumn, the cycle repeated endlessly.</p><p class="ql-block">Day after day, the anglers kept vigil by the river, never tiring of it. Generation after generation, the fish in the river multiplied, foraging and growing in the water; a portion would take the bait and be hauled ashore, while countless others continued to thrive endlessly beneath the surface.</p><p class="ql-block">For thousands of years, the Yongxing River has surged southward. Though its riverbed has shifted through the ages, it remains an integral part of this land's natural landscape. Strolling along the riverbank, I couldn't help feeling a sense of awe at how limited human life and time are. Like the lotus leaves and the trees along the bank, we possess only a brief span of time in this world before we quietly fade away.</p><p class="ql-block">After all life's detours, I have returned once more to Beijing, blending back into the ordinary rhythm of life, doing down-to-earth work within my grasp. On one side is my homeland; on the other, my beloved family across the ocean. The years drift quietly forward amidst this constant gazing and journeying.</p>