Rainy Day at the Old Summer Palace: A Whisper Between History and Nature

Waking up to the sound of rain pattering against the window, I noticed it was heavier than the weather forecast had predicted. Staring at the weather app on my phone, my excitement dimmed slightly—the icon for heavy rain turning to light rain hovered like a gray droplet over June 14. But then, a thought struck me, and I felt a tinge of delight: such weather would surely mean fewer tourists, making it the perfect time for a tranquil rendezvous in the rain. 1. The Ruins of the Western Mansions: Poetic Desolation in the Mist The moment the reservation page displayed "Reservation Successful," it felt like I had received a ticket to travel through time. At 9 a.m., the rain eased slightly, and I wrapped myself in my coat, stepping into the fine drizzle. The stone columns of the Western Mansions stood silently amidst the damp mist, as if the sighs from the calamity a century ago still lingered. The ruins of the Dashuifa fountain glistened coldly under the rain, and seeing them again after my last visit at 18, I found the broken walls and sculptures even more solemn in the rain than under the sun. Raindrops traced the carvings like tears of history, while the cobblestone paths beneath my feet turned into mirrors reflecting fragments of the sky and ruins. 2. The Maze and Fuhai Lake: A Harmony of Motion and Stillness Passing through the Western Mansions, the rain intensified, but it didn’t deter the children’s laughter. A few little figures in raincoats darted through the low walls of the maze, their rain boots splashing water with a crisp, bell-like sound. Their laughter echoed along the empty stone paths, adding a touch of vitality to the gloomy weather. Standing under my umbrella, I gazed at Fuhai Lake, where ripples spread across the surface. A few ducks paddled leisurely, shaking off water droplets from their feathers like strings of transparent pearls. The koi by the shore were impressively plump, perhaps due to the lack of tourists feeding them. They lazed under the lotus leaves, occasionally flicking their tails to shatter the reflections in the water. 3. Puddles and Lotus Flowers: A Mix of Regret and Anticipation The rainy Old Summer Palace wasn’t all gentle charm. Puddles along the paths mirrored fragmented skies, and the low-lying areas were almost ankle-deep in water, leaving my shoes and socks thoroughly soaked. A cleaner, broom in hand, sighed under the eaves, "This drainage system must still have the same old problems from back then." Reaching the lotus patches, the rain grew heavier. Squatting down to search for the lotus buds I remembered, I only found layers of green umbrellas spread across the water. Occasionally, a couple of shy buds hid under the leaves, like bashful girls clenching their fists. Seeing my disappointment, the cleaner chuckled, "Come back next week, and I guarantee the pond will be full of ‘boundless green lotus leaves touching the sky.’" 4. The Journey Home: Fulfillment in the Rain Two hours later, the stone paths near the south gate were dotted with puddles. As I hailed a cab, the driver glanced at the overcast sky and remarked, "Visiting the park in this weather? You’ve got quite the refined taste!" I laughed as I climbed into the car, the warm air mixed with the scent of leather seats enveloping me. A hot shower washed away the chill, and biting into a steaming slice of pizza, the cheese stretching as I pulled, even the raindrops on the window seemed endearing. This rainy-day stroll felt like opening a damp history book. The fragmented reflections in the puddles, the children’s laughter in the maze, the ducks’ calm demeanor on Fuhai Lake, and the raindrops clinging to the stone columns of the Dashuifa fountain all reminded me: some landscapes can only be truly appreciated in specific seasons and moods. Perhaps, like the unopened lotus buds, some beauty requires patience, while certain moments bloom quietly, only in the rain.