I stayed in Hongcun for two nights, and this hostel was the most gentle haven amidst the misty rain.
The plum rain season washed every leaf until it glistened, and the air was filled with the fresh scent of earth and grass. I stayed in a wooden cabin, and the rain pattered on the eaves all night, a simple white noise from nature. Falling asleep to the sound of rain felt like returning to childhood, a long-lost tranquility.
In the evening, the owner played and sang folk songs for us on the ukulele, their melodies blending into the sound of the rain. Outside, a fine drizzle wove through the air; inside, the lights were dim and warm. I held a cup of hot milk tea in my hands (it was made with real milk, rich and sweet, not a perfunctory powder mix – truly delicious 😋). A small cat sat under the eaves listening to the rain, while I worked on crafts, the rustle of needle and thread accompanying the lingering music. Rain, hot milk tea, folk songs, a little cat, and handmade crafts – these beautiful words layered together unexpectedly created a nearly luxurious stretch of time.
Even luckier, I met several pure-hearted girls here. The plum rain didn't trap us; instead, it brought us together. We chatted, shared stories, and exchanged smiles. Though we were strangers meeting by chance, we shared a brief and wonderful time.
Scenery tends to fade, and photos will yellow, but those moments filled with warmth will not disappear. They settle deep in our memories, resurfacing suddenly on a weary evening in the future, reminding you: this world is worth repeatedly venturing into.
Travel isn't about escaping life, but about making life broader. To encounter mountains, rivers, and seas; to meet gentle people; to meet the light and authentic self hidden by daily routines.
Resting by the water, listening to the misty rain,
Dreaming of Huizhou.
Original TextTranslation provided by AI
