Last week on my way home, flights were delayed by nearly four hours due to a heavy storm — by the time I got home it was already close to four.
The last time I had a long delay at Daxing was back in 2022, when I first joined my company for the 318 self-drive road trip. We didn’t reach Chengdu until past four in the afternoon, and at six-thirty we set off again toward Panda Avenue. It cost me a lot of brain cells, but the impression was incredibly vivid. Most of the colleagues who came along have since left the company — some by choice, others not.
The weekend followed a similar rhythm: we set off early Saturday morning, driving to Changsha. My wife drove while I caught up on sleep. Dr. Di hosted us for a meal — we ate well.
On Sunday we climbed Yuelu Mountain. On my previous trips to Changsha I had only ever made it to Orange Isle. The weather was brutally hot, but my wife pushed through to the top — worth applauding. At the foot of the mountain we had boiled fish: the milky-white broth turned out to be spicy, so addictive that I ended up gulping down bowl after bowl.
