I remember the day I arrived in Zhuhai—Beijing was buried in snow, and the morning rush hour made it impossible to hail a cab. I ended up taking the bus, barely making it to the high-speed train with five minutes to spare. The plan was to arrive by 9 p.m., but heavy snowfall north of Henan delayed the train repeatedly. By the time I reached Zhuhai, it was already 2 or 3 a.m. A truly unlucky day.
Compared to the profound memories of Tibet, my time in Zhuhai was far more mundane. Cultivating algae, counting algae, collecting reservoir samples, preserving and testing them—then downloading useful data from Brother Bin’s database. The water quality monitoring center was well-equipped, capable of testing over 130 indicators, making the process much smoother than back at the institute. I’m also deeply grateful to the team at the center for their unwavering support. The only downside was the local cuisine—roast meats, duck, goose, and pork knuckle rice didn’t suit my palate, leaving me stumped at every meal.
Zhuhai’s climate, however, was a dream. With minimal seasonal variation, winters hovered around 17–18°C, allowing the same wardrobe year-round—no need for a down jacket. Summers were particularly stunning: the sky a clear sapphire, clouds like cotton candy drifting overhead. Even at 9 p.m., the sky retained enough brilliance for photos, a testament to its reputation as a livable city.
The coastal Lover’s Road was a highlight. At sunset, cycling along the breeze, the air pristine and refreshing, the scene was straight out of a movie—golden light, sandy beaches, banana trees, and the sea, all framed by couples whispering sweet nothings. Despite the fading light, the atmosphere brimmed with youthful vitality.
Further along the road lay the Love Post Office, the Zhuhai Fisher Girl statue, and the Shell Theater. The post office housed love letters to the future, padlock mementos, and message walls, all bearing witness to young romance. The 8.7-meter-tall Fisher Girl statue, holding a pearl, stood as a symbol of Zhuhai’s maritime culture, weathering storms and time alike. The Shell Theater, with its twin-shell design evoking the sun and moon, took on a futuristic glow at night. Its resemblance to the Sydney Opera House made me feel like I’d “been to Sydney.” Zhuhai’s archipelago, dubbed the “Thousand-Island City,” also held gems like Wailingding Island, where the national hero Wen Tianxiang once fought valiantly, later penning his immortal line in prison: “Since ancient times, no one has escaped death—let my loyalty illuminate history.” Though I haven’t visited yet, the island’s rich history has already captured my imagination.
In November 2024, I attended the Zhuhai Airshow and witnessed the debut of the J-35, making China the second country after the U.S. to possess two fifth-generation stealth fighters. The roar of the J-20 and J-35 overhead filled me with pride—a feeling that lingers to this day. I still remember the 2016 South China Sea standoff, when China’s navy faced down two U.S. carrier strike groups with sheer determination. Now, with three carrier battle groups, carrier-capable J-35s, and sixth-gen fighters like the J-36 and J-50 leading the world, the tables have turned. It’s only a matter of time before Taiwan is reunited, America is surpassed, and the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation is realized.