“Say one last farewell, then go our separate ways…” Every year at this time, melancholic songs echo in the minds of every college student facing graduation. These poignant emotions are not limited to soon-to-be graduates—former alumni who’ve entered society also often find themselves reflecting with a sigh. Do you remember those graduation photos we took together back in the day? Do you recall the graduation trips we embarked on? Can you still feel that sense of uncertainty and nostalgia right after graduation?
“She’s truly a crazy girl.” Before even meeting Song Lei, a senior at Qingdao Agricultural University, a friend described her this way. At 23, she has spent nearly two years hitchhiking solo across all but two Chinese provinces—Inner Mongolia and Xinjiang. She never checks travel guides or even weather forecasts before setting off. With very little money, she travels entirely by hitchhiking. As Song Lei puts it, her journey is a process. “There’s a saying: reading ten thousand books isn’t as good as traveling ten thousand miles. Along the way, I’ve seen many sights that can’t be found in books.”
Well-off family background, yet chooses to hitchhike across China
At around 4 p.m. on April 19, the reporter met Song Lei while she was browsing street stalls with a friend. She wore a light blue jacket, cropped jeans, and carried a designer purse that clashed with her casual outfit.
“I’ve always used the best stuff since I was little. When my dad traveled for work, he’d bring me lots of bags and cosmetics, but I just left them piled up at home unused,” Song Lei said nonchalantly. As an only child, she was thoroughly spoiled by her parents, and their affluent background meant she usually got whatever she wanted.
But Song Lei said she never brought those things to school, nor did she wear them regularly. “They’re my parents’ things, not bought with my own money.” When it comes to money, this post-90s girl shows remarkable independence. She only dresses up when going out with her dad and needs to “put on appearances,” otherwise she sticks to plain student attire. “Even the backpack I bought for traveling cost just 150 yuan and was picked up at a Beijing street stall—it’s falling apart now,” she said. Most travelers invest thousands or even tens of thousands in gear, but all her equipment combined cost less than 1,000 yuan.
First hitchhiking attempt: waits an hour for a police car
The evening of November 20, 2012, is a day Song Lei will never forget. That night, she and her companion, Xiao Shen, had less than 1,000 yuan between them. Standing at the entrance of a highway in Shenyang, they stuck out their thumbs and for the first time made the universal hitchhiking gesture to speeding cars. “Xiao Shen is someone I met at Shenyang Railway Station. He’s from Xiamen, and we were headed to Mohe, so we teamed up.”
Song Lei’s first hitchhiking attempt wasn’t lucky—after standing at the highway entrance for an hour, no cars stopped. Then, at 9 p.m., a police car pulled over. After learning their situation, the highway patrol officers gave them a ride to a rest area.
“Well, at least it was our first ride together—and unexpectedly, it was a police car,” Song Lei and Xiao Shen said, both excited. They even recorded the moment as a keepsake. Later, at the rest stop, they successfully flagged down a sedan thanks to the car being driven by someone from Shandong. “He was a fellow northerner, so he gave us a lift,” Song Lei recounted.
Strip-teasing in -20°C at Qiqihar
After a week of travel and having hitched rides on 18 vehicles, Song Lei and Xiao Shen arrived in Qiqihar. By then, their little group had grown to eight people. “You often meet travelers from all over the country along the way. If you hit it off, you travel together. Everyone’s really laid-back,” Song Lei said. Such spontaneous gatherings made the trip much more lively.
During the interview, Song Lei showed the reporter a video she and other travelers filmed on November 27, 2012, in Qiqihar. In the footage, several men stripped to their waists while girls wore shorts and tank tops. Everyone laughed wildly, played around, and danced to “Gangnam Style.” “It was -20°C, and already the middle of the night,” Song Lei recalled, still thrilled by the memory. With some travelers parting ways the next day due to different destinations, the group gathered, drank a bit, and someone suddenly suggested a “strip-tease.” The guys took off their shirts, the girls wore their skimpy outfits, and they ran onto the open ground. “We didn’t even feel cold—we were just so hyped. We all dashed out without hesitation,” she said. Later, she turned the experience into a video as a souvenir.
Camping in a park, enduring a terrifying night
To outsiders, Song Lei’s hitchhiking journey seems smooth and lucky—but luck didn’t always favor her. On March 10, 2012, she and a female friend hitched from Xiamen to Longgang District, Shenzhen. At 10 p.m., they camped in a small park there. “I sleep like a log. Around 3 a.m., I was deep asleep when my friend poked me hard awake. She was trembling,” Song Lei said.
Summoning courage, Song Lei peeked out of her sleeping bag and saw a square “window” burned into their tent by a cigarette butt, letting in a blast of wind. Through the hole, she spotted a man standing outside. “All I could see were his feet. He didn’t make a sound or do anything—he just stood there. At first I wasn’t scared, but then my friend started shaking like a leaf, and I got scared too,” she recalled.
Regaining composure, Song Lei pretended to call her family, saying things like, “This place isn’t fun at all, Dad, come pick me up.” She also tried “chatting” with the man outside, asking, “Who’s out there?” After muttering to herself for a while, the man remained still. Eventually, he disappeared.
Still shaken, Song Lei and her friend quickly packed up and left the park. “We didn’t know where to go, so I called a guy who had given us a ride before. It was 4 a.m., but he was really kind and took us to his place. He even bought us breakfast in the morning,” Song Lei said. When they woke up later, the kind stranger had already left for work, leaving breakfast on the table for them.
Friends and family don’t approve—they see it as self-inflicted hardship
Song Lei’s family doesn’t support her hitchhiking lifestyle. “I usually don’t tell my parents about my trips. If I do, I’m vague. And I never mention the dangers I face,” she said. “When I came back from Lhasa this time, my mom saw how tanned I was and forbade me from going out again.” Speaking of her parents’ reaction, Song Lei sounded a bit exasperated. As an only child, she was always pampered and grew up carefree. To her parents, her hitchhiking adventures are nothing but self-imposed suffering.
Back at school from Lhasa on April 17, Song Lei is busy preparing for graduation. When asked about her future plans, she insisted she’s not the rebellious artsy type people might imagine. “I’ll still graduate properly and find a job. For me, hitchhiking is just one way to see the world—it’s not my whole life.” She added that she’d still travel when possible after starting work, but only if her life is stable.
The journey—not the destination—is what matters most
On November 20, 2011, Song Lei began hitchhiking from Shenyang to Mohe. On February 29, 2012, she started another journey from Xiamen to Dali, then passed through Lijiang, Shangri-La, and northward to Lhasa in Tibet. “My first hitchhiking trip cost me 500 yuan, including 100 yuan for a return train ticket. The second trip cost over 3,000 yuan—half went to a flight back, and I also bought a second-hand motorcycle to ride around Erhai Lake. Less than 1,000 yuan actually went to the journey itself.” Usually, she’d stand by the road thumbing for rides or walk if none came—sometimes covering over 30 kilometers a day.
“When I ran out of money, I painted murals on hotel walls in exchange for a place to stay. In Dali, I even ran a street stall,” Song Lei said. The stall capital came from a loan by her hostel owner. After three days, she earned nearly 200 yuan. “It was just for fun—to meet all kinds of people.” Locals in Dali even gave her free food and plum wine. “Dali is such a warm-hearted city. They just wanted to chat—it felt really nice.”
When asked how she felt upon finally reaching her destination after all the hardships, Song Lei looked somewhat disappointed. “Every time I arrived, I felt let down—like it wasn’t worth it. I didn’t even visit the Potala Palace in Lhasa—I just bought a flight back. For me, the journey itself is what matters, not the destination.”