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Those ascending the mountain encounter the deity descending.
This is the morning of the gods.
Big Raccoon, Big Orange, Cow… all are tough street bosses guarding the mountain.
This is what’s especially good about Beijing: 🐈 has devotees providing for them everywhere. They are also often worshipped as totems in the hutongs.
Wild and untamable, carefree and unruly, treating life and death with indifference, ready to fight anyone who refuses to submit—extremely alluring.

At Xihai’s low hill, I went to take a look at Huitong Shrine.
It was first built by Yao Guangxiao and called Zhenshui Guanyin Nunnery, also known as Fahua Temple. It was rebuilt during the Qianlong period and renamed Huitong Shrine. After the founding of the People’s Republic of China, it was demolished during subway construction. In 1988, earth was piled up to form a hill, and the shrine was rebuilt on it. It is now home to the Guo Shoujing Memorial Hall. The scenery is among the finest in the inner city.
Guo Shoujing was a great master of astronomy and hydraulic engineering. He headed the Im

I visited Guo Moruo’s former residence.
When we are young, we always look down on the world, especially on writers—thinking this one is no good, that one has flaws, and that they can be replaced.
In fact, in an age of great contention, to live to a natural death without losing one’s honor is already to be the finest among the outstanding.
Rain kept us there, so I spent a long time in the rear courtyard reading Premier Guo’s books; their earnest prose suddenly filled me with profound grief.
In the courtyard, snake beans—vermilion red and deep emerald—have flourished for fifty years.

Baiyun Temple was built by Taoist priest Yin Zhiping. The national temple.
I have always felt that Jin Yong was uninteresting because he smuggled in too much personal agenda.
When one's abilities are insufficient, one may think that smuggling in personal agenda is a kind of ability. But after reaching a certain level, one will only feel that these things not only do not count as ability, but are also filthy.
The greatest workmanship and ingenuity ultimately appear simple and unadorned. Great enlightenment is nothing more than having no desires.
Longevity is a great virtue among people.

After finishing a morning card game, I passed Xiaoyun Road on my way home and saw a large swath of exceptionally lovely morning glories. They have a wonderfully beautiful name: “morning face.” Because they bloom a little too early, I rarely come across them in full bloom. When I do, I’m very happy.
This summer was spent with my card-playing friends. In fact, I spent this spring with them too.
Summer has finally passed, and Beijing has returned to its cool weather.

It truly feels like a cycle has come to an end.
Economic cycles are not particularly astonishing; the cycle of power is the real cycle. Everything we have experienced has been nothing more than a small stroke of power.
That day, we talked about liking to walk through hutongs, and about the beauty of Beijing and the Second Ring Road. My card-playing companion said that every old building has its own story.
I said, yes, but not every old building has a story about power.
The green hills remain as before; how many times has the evening sun reddened?

My mahjong friends from all over have come to Beijing. One round of mahjong after another.
Last year, everyone with a brick-and-mortar business was losing money, but all the skilled professionals were making money. The young girls from back then have grown up too, and are now all major agents, producers, and directors shouldering the responsibility.
I played with my longtime mahjong partner “Hugging the Nest to Lose”—two old folks, and I couldn’t beat either of them. Hahaha, but I was so happy—the kind of warmth and ease that comes from looking around and seeing nothing but family, enjoying th

The wind and rain are bleak and chilling; the cocks crow loud and steady.
Now that I have seen the gentleman, how could I be so uneasy?
The wind and rain keep pouring; the cocks crow, loud and clear.
Now that I have seen the gentleman, how could I not be comforted?
The wind and rain darken the day; the cocks crow without ceasing.
Now that I have seen the gentleman, how could I still be unwilling to be glad?

This stretch east of the Yuan Dadu ruins is quite full of charm.
It’s a bit like the Liangma River: on one side there’s a park with blue pines and green cypresses, and on the other there are restaurants with a nice, tasteful vibe.
Everything feels new—the pine trees are all freshly planted.
In the past, we would all go west toward Tucheng, on the part by the Crabapple Flower Stream—then you’d just end up shopping and spending in the Olympic business district.
It feels like this place is more like the Liangma River than North Xiaoqhe. If you want a sense of lively prosperity, you still

Went to the handicrafts and intangible cultural heritage museum to take a look at the Shui Bei gold exhibit.
I’m not really able to appreciate these gold and silver things anymore. I just find them bulky and swollen, cumbersome and oily.
When I see these ancient accessories, I feel that “deeply dressing up according to rank” is an incredibly torturous thing—though it’s also still a test of obedience.
I don’t think they’re beautiful; I just think they’re chains. The “guan” on the head is basically like foot-binding cloth wrapped on your head.
Human progress is reflected in the fact that modern

Sparkling and bright; calm like still water.

On the way, I climbed into the Tianjing at the Olympic Sports Center.
I almost accompanied this cat all the way.
The sports atmosphere around the Olympic Sports Center is still good—mainly because it’s big. When a place is both huge and has mountains, water, and roads, it’s really hard for it not to be wonderful.
When I came down, it was already dark, and sure enough I got lost again—following the navigation makes it easy to end up on a road with no streetlights—of course, getting lost in the park is a normal occurrence for me.

The Xishiku Church ⛪️ is truly beautiful.
A clean, neat Gothic style.
The original site was to the west of Ziguang Pavilion on the west bank of the Zhonghai. It was dismantled once during the Daoguang era, then rebuilt during the Tongzhi era. Cixi dismantled it again, and during the Guangxu era it was moved to this place.
In 58, it was turned over to the state. In 85, it was returned again to the Catholic Church in Beijing—the long-standing flow of history.
This place is not far from Guangji Temple. It closes one hour later than Guangji Temple—so you can head out from Guangji Temple fi

Guangji Temple—what a deluge.
I honestly couldn’t stop laughing. Every time I go to a Buddhist religious event venue, I can almost always end up right there when the rain comes pouring down.
I’m just standing under the eaves of the Hall of Great Heroes, carefully watching—wind and rain add a filter to the ancient monastery.
This place is the location of the Buddhist Association. There are especially many monks and believers. The person next to me can really recite scriptures.
All throughout the entire main hall are ancient Ming-dynasty relics. I feel they’re probably made of rosewood—i

When I was younger, I liked living on Changchun Street for a while. Because back then, a few of my good friends were on the west side. Changchun Street is relatively quiet amid the noise. It was also convenient to go to the Financial Street and Xidan. Basically, I didn’t really like crossing the Second Ring Road.
But when I lived over there, Xuanwu Art Garden wasn’t open yet. It opened after the Olympics. Back then, when you passed by, everything was enclosed—under construction and in renovation.
Xuanwu Art Garden turned out really nice. There are also lots of cats.
I came to Changchun Street

The ducks were also raised with a thriving, lively atmosphere.

There are countless Hibiscus trees along the water’s edge, their blush-tinted petals not yet fully浓.
The politics are like a beauty who is just beginning to get drunk; she strongly holds up the green mirror, wanting to dress herself but seeming languid.
——Wang Anshi
This year, in Beijing, it seems the only place where hibiscus is truly thriving is the strip of it by the backyard wall of Houhai. Elsewhere there are just a few scattered plants, with lilacs just beginning to bloom.
This year’s rainfall has been plentiful; the hibiscus looks even more alluring than the hibiscus herself.

The ten-thousand-character Buddha-figured coffer at Zhihua Temple is quite distinctive. Personally, I even think it’s better-looking than the starry-sky ceiling at the Xiannongtan.
Because the starry-sky ceiling is frankly too overly skilled in its woodworking—too much showy technique stacked with buffs maxed out. Instead of looking impressive, it ends up less elegant than the ten-thousand-character Buddha flower ornamentation, which feels pure and refined.
The main hall and the Wanfo Pavilion also have two large dragon-shaped coffer ceilings, but they were sold off by monks who, back then