Climbing Mount Lu again

　　On January 27, 2016—a day of heavy snowfall—a rare glimpse of crossing seasons.

　　I strapped on my crampons and set off toward Mount Lu, dozens of miles away. I trudged through knee-deep, sparkling white snow along the way, climbed the icy steps of Haohan Slope—countless staircases that seemed to freeze one’s very bones—and navigated the long, desolate, winding mountain paths. Amidst the solitary blossoms of several cold plum trees clinging to the cliffside, I finally reached Hanpo Mouth—a breathtaking, unpopulated realm of unparalleled beauty.

　　The biting, bone-chilling cold wind swept over the ridge and hit my face; even the phone I’d raised to take a photo instantly froze solid. It truly felt like: trees had turned into popsicles, and people had turned into dogs! Yet, that wasn’t anything special. I chose to walk the hardest path precisely to see the most breathtaking scenery. That was my very own icy and snowy world.

　　The forests of trees, stretching across the mountains and fields, are enveloped in snowflakes—crystal-clear and dazzlingly beautiful, like something straight out of a fairy tale. Lying in the snow-covered landscape atop the mountain, which resembles a crystal palace, I look up at the azure sky above. Coral-like pine trees support a crimson sun. In this world frozen in ice, it feels as though I’ve caught a glimpse of poetry and distant horizons...

　　That scene, that breathtaking spectacle—both real and dreamlike—leaves an unforgettable impression. How can I describe it? It’s as if spring were blooming in the depths of winter: the red sun warms the branches, and gentle snowflakes set off the fragrance of plum blossoms. Though winter has reached its peak, spring still lingers nearby—as if an old friend were about to arrive.