Into Taikoo Li’s whirlpool of fashion
The hotel was very close to Chunxi Road and Taikoo Li. How close? Close enough that every day I could step out to buy a steamed bun and plunge headfirst into a whirlpool of fashion.
Speaking of Taikoo Li, you probably remember the online excitement about its ‘catwalk’ a couple of years ago. One extraordinary outfit followed another: some people seemed to have travelled from the Tang dynasty, others to have just run out of an anime convention. With some looks, I stared for ages and still could not work out how they stayed attached to a body. In short, a hundred flowers bloomed, each more dazzling than the last. Watching through a screen, I thought: these people have some nerve.
Later I slowly came to understand. It was not nerve but an expression of personality, the rebelliousness youth ought to have. More deeply, it meant stepping outside accepted ‘rules’, doing only what you liked and ignoring other people’s gaze. For that alone, Taikoo Li deserved its place among trending topics.
At around four that afternoon, I stood in this ‘controversial spot’. It really was crowded: I did not walk in so much as get ‘transported’ inside by the human tide.
A city that lets people be themselves
Crowded though it was, the atmosphere was surprisingly good. Everywhere were handsome young men and beautiful young women, in every kind of outfit and all sorts of attractive looks. I loved the atmosphere: they were ‘doing as they pleased’, free to dress as they wanted, in twos and threes, laughing without restraint in the crowd. Their laughter carried — not the subdued smile of a café, but an open, wholehearted ‘hahaha’ that the whole street could hear. Standing nearby, I found myself smiling too. No posing, no pretence, laughing when you wanted and wearing what you liked: this was how young people ought to be.
Chengdu really was an accepting city. During my stroll I saw different combinations of genders — women together, men together, and women with men — holding hands, shoulder to shoulder, entirely at ease. Here, it seemed, love in every form was allowed, without strange looks. I sincerely agreed: respect every love that is lawful and has a moral baseline; each deserves a blessing. Love should never have a template. Who said it must be ‘man on the left, woman on the right’, or ‘one man and one woman’?
I took a few casual photographs, proof that I had been there. In the frame were surging crowds, the slanting evening sun and me with a slightly silly smile — yes, visit certified.
Tea at Heming in People’s Park
After a while I grew tired. My stamina is unremarkable: I am the sort who needs three hours of recharging after two hours of shopping. It was still early and my mouth was dry, so I decided: time for tea.
The same old place: Heming Teahouse in People’s Park. I have a habit of sticking to one place once I have settled on it. Heming is my ‘first love of tea’. Hot tea in winter, cool tea in summer: however I drink it, it feels good.
When I arrived, there were still empty bamboo chairs, so I quickly claimed one. I ordered a pot of iced black tea and a pot of iced green tea, leaned back in the bamboo chair — that was the feeling. When bored, I turned to chat with the next table, talking about anything and everything: ‘Where are you from?’, ‘Where is the best chuanchuan in Chengdu?’, then ‘Why is your tea darker than mine?’ When my mouth became dry, I returned to my own cup. No rush, no fuss, barely looking at my phone, just emptying my mind as much as possible. That feeling of ‘flopping down’ was wonderfully pleasant. What is happiness? Perhaps having nothing to think about except whether to add more water once the tea has cooled.
Fish, baijiu and a conversation with my cousin
While slumped there, I suddenly remembered that an older cousin I had played with since childhood was also in Chengdu. After growing up we had gone our separate ways, each busy with our own life; it had been a long time since we last met. I pulled out my phone and sent him a WeChat message: ‘Cousin, I’m in Chengdu. Want to come out for something to eat?’ Within two minutes, he sent back an address and added: ‘Come over quickly. I’ll take you for fish.’
I almost sprang out of the bamboo chair. Fish? Let’s go.
When I arrived, a steaming pot of fish was already on the table. My cousin sat opposite, smiling as he poured me a drink. After a cup of baijiu, the conversation opened up: work, marriage, personal growth… We talked about so much. As we talked, I realised that everything had changed, yet somehow nothing had.
What moved me most was what he said about his marriage. From beginning to end he neither sighed nor complained; there was not even loneliness in his eyes. Instead, he seemed relieved, as though he had put down a burden. Smiling, he said: ‘You know how our relatives see me, don’t you? They must think my marriage failed.’ I nodded, not daring to respond. He went on: ‘But only the person wearing the shoes knows whether they fit. I’m quite happy now. From now on I just want to treat myself a little better.’
There was light in his eyes as he said it.
At that moment I felt that my cousin was still the same cousin: always clear-headed, always knowing what he wanted. Cup after cup of baijiu, and it was as though both of us had flipped a switch. Suddenly he looked at me and said: ‘Actually, I envy you — the life you have now, being able to love yourself so much and live so freely.’
I paused. So everyone envies the road they did not choose. After thinking, I told him seriously: ‘Cousin, I want my marriage to be for love, not just marriage for its own sake. Right now I only want to raise myself all over again — raise myself better, give myself the best care within my means.’
He raised his cup and gently clinked mine: ‘Then here’s to you raising yourself nice and plump.’
‘And here’s to you treating yourself well for the rest of your life.’
Learning to slow down
We had drunk enough, said a lot and gained a few insights… Suddenly I realised this sounded like a diary entry. Dear readers, take it as a bit of entertainment. This Chengdu trip — from Taikoo Li’s clamour to Heming’s ease and the heartfelt conversation over drinks with my cousin — was worth it.
Who am I? Just a student still learning the lesson of ‘loving myself’, progressing slowly but never missing class.
Follow me, and see you next time.
(Author: 嗷嗷小胖虎)
