At 8:30 am on March 9th, 20 people in 12 cars gathered at the entrance of the Niulanshan Distillery in Shunyi. Having to get up early on a weekend feels a bit painful emotionally, but “military orders are like mountains”—we had no choice but to follow them. We were all scared of being late without a good reason and getting told “next time we won’t take you.” Our seasoned brother Success was thoughtful enough to print out the name list and put up a Green Field little flag. While waiting, I noticed that they were building a building behind the wall. At this time last year when we went to Bitai for the “Ezon Sports Watch Promotion,” we also gathered here. Back then it was overgrown with weeds and deserted—we even sneaked in and used their facilities in a rather uncivilized way. Now it’s all high-rises with nowhere to hide. “Things change fast” is the perfect way to describe it.
But enough chit-chat—back to the main story. There were still 50 kilometers to go from here to Yaji Mountain. The whole way there were withered grasses, barren mountains, and yellow sand as far as the eye could see. The monitoring instruments at the US Embassy must’ve gone crazy. Same yellow sky—such is fate. Yesterday on WeChat everyone was discussing “I heard there’s going to be a sandstorm tomorrow—go or not?” Zhiweng and Xiangxiang declared firmly “We’re going even if it’s raining knives,” and I wanted to chime in and show my determination too, but the truth is “I’d already bought roast chicken and made assorted vegetables. It’d be a waste of my cooking skills if I didn’t go—I’d have nowhere to show off.” Beijing really isn’t suitable for living now—it lacks water and electricity, and is full of garbage and sewage, with so many people crammed into such a small space. I read some foreign evaluation material on longevity and the environment: “For every extra million people living in your city, your lifespan decreases by one year. Why? You can imagine it with your feet—too many people, too many cars, too much stress, air pollution, water pollution…” Beijing now has over 20 million people. If you were supposed to live to 100, now you’re just barely scraping by to 80. Consider yourself lucky.100Wanshoumingjianyinian,Weimane?Yongjiaodounengxiangxiang‘Renduo,Cheduo,Yalida,Kongqiwuran,Shuiwuran……’.Beijing now has a population of over 20 million. Originally, people could expect to live to 100, but now they’re just scraping by to 80 — you could say heaven isn’t treating you too badly.
We arrived in Pinggu around 10 amYaji Mountain. Looking at the towering “attraction” in the distance, my legs started to shake a bit. But I didn’t say anything—I’m sure there were others worse off than me. Sure enough, someone in the group exclaimed “It’s so high, how are we supposed to climb up?” Those who had been here before said “There seems to be a road that goes halfway up the mountain.” Heh, “Which dear person is being so considerate?” We drove up along the narrow cement road into the village, full of sharp turns that would be quite a challenge for anyone with heart issues. The daring ones happily headed straight for the mountaintop, while the steadier ones took it slow in first gear. Suddenly two men up ahead stopped our cars, saying “This is a fire prevention road—no vehicles allowed.” The first five cars had managed to sneak through okay. “Lucky people don’t have to try hard, unlucky people run themselves ragged”—that’s exactly what they meant. The older and less physically fit among us had no choice but to get out and walk. I’d heard that people who drive a lot will even drive to buy soy sauce from the store nearby—but this time their disadvantage showed: “It’s just a matter of pressing the gas pedal, but walking still takes some effort.” I don’t drive and usually walk more, so at a normal pace I left the rest of the group far behind. “A little smugness on my part.”
By the time us “grandpas and grandmas” had climbed halfway up the mountain, we were already almost exhausted like grandkids. Then someone asked “Do we need tickets?” Everyone gasped “Oh no, we left them in the car!” Then they cautiously asked “How much is one?” Successful brother said “45 yuan.” “Pfft”—those without tickets just sat down “Can’t walk another step.”
We thought of lots of ways to sneak in, but none worked at the Yaji Mountain gate—the staff were idly checking photos one by one. This attraction is pretty harsh—“as soon as you enter, you’re facing stairs going up.” Already feeling dizzy with exhaustion, seeing the stairs made our blood pressure rise. Forget about needing tickets—even if it were free, we wouldn’t have gone up. We sat around chatting on the stools at the little shop by the gate, then took a couple of photos for “proof of visit.” I walked down the mountain—after all, the tickets were so expensive, we couldn’t just see the “5-yuan-worthy” mountaintop. There were 525 steps from bottom to top—not too tiring. Next time I come, I won’t even need the car.
We’d originally brought lunch to eat on the mountain, but the forecasted yellow sand arrived right on time, so we quickly drove straight to our prearranged lodging spot. The owner was an acquaintance, so everything was convenient. Even though we didn’t eat there, he provided tables and hot water. “Whoosh”—in just a moment, delicious food covered two tables “everyone was starving.” Each family showed off their homemakers’ culinary skills—it was a feast for the eyes. Rushing to eat is the best—Jintao said by the time he got there, only pickles and chili sauce were left on the table. The chili sauce that Cheng’s wife brought for making fish head with chopped peppers was really tasty with rice. I had Wuyou’s fried rice again because it’s always well-stocked. The lettuce with sauce that Xiangxiang brought was the most popular—it was always gone in a flash. Anyone putting on polite airs or trying to change the subject politely was just left watching—this refreshing dish probably would’ve needed a sackful.
After eating and drinking our fill, I and Successful brother assigned rooms—that’s the “assistant’s” duty. Standard rooms were “100 yuan” each, with bathrooms, air conditioning, and LCD TVs. This place was great—I strongly recommend it because it has a huge entertainment hall that can fit three tables of mahjong and one table of cards. I hadn’t even “settled in” yet when “whoosh”—the games began, lasting “until 1 am.”
In the afternoon we’d originally wanted to go out for a walk and see socialist new countryside, but outside the yellow sand was everywhere, visibility was only a few meters. Forget about “PM2.5”—the news said the roof of Terminal 3 had been blown off. Everyone figured “our heaviest stuff here isn’t as heavy as the terminal building—we’d be asking for death if we fought nature!” Better to stay safe inside playing mahjong. Three tables of mahjong and one table of “Three-player Game,” no one was idle. The host only had two sets of mahjong tiles—this small problem didn’t stump the seasoned mahjong players. “We brought our own.”
Around 4 pm, Success, Brother Hei, and others went to order dinner. Such hardworking role models—if I heard right, someone also did the “three rolls and one thing”? Not very nice!
During the evening drinking session, the young and middle-aged men and women sat at one table, and the non-drinking elderly, weak, women, and children sat at another. Over there, toasts kept coming and “cheers” reached one climax after another. The elder brother contributed five bottles of good alcohol—all for state banquets. One condition was “You all drink your fill, I’m not drinking”—he’s truly a good Samaritan too. Our table fully supported them by bringing over the “leftovers mixed with everyone’s saliva,” and the executor was Cheng’s wife. “We paid for it ourselves, throwing it away would be a waste.”
The next morning at 8:30 breakfast was served. Breakfast cost 10 yuan per person. I started collecting money—“The total cost for two days was 93 yuan per person.” On the way back we passed by Laoquankou Park, which “was closed during fire prevention season.” But nothing can stymie us common folks—we didn’t enter the attraction but just strolled along the mountain path in the sun for free. The sky was so blue it made you dizzy. Seems like Beijing’s air quality depends on the heavens—a strong wind blows and all is well. After descending the mountain, everyone went home to their own moms. I got home smoothly without a hitch.