Passing Through Your City: Yan'an

On a Sunday morning in December, the streets of Yan'an are shrouded in a mysterious and tranquil veil as the first light of dawn breaks. It's already 7:30, but the sky seems reluctant to part with the night, like a shy girl half-concealing her pipa, not yet fully revealing her enchanting veil, leaving the whole city immersed in a hazy atmosphere. In those rarely visited corners, a light snow that fell earlier covers the bluestone slabs, shimmering with the unique cold brilliance of winter, like diamonds embedded in the earth, crystal clear, with a hint of imperceptible chill. Whenever a breeze blows, these snowflakes seem to dance lightly, blending with the surrounding scenery, creating a captivating winter picture. The cold wind cuts through every inch of space like a knife, and the thermometer's needle firmly points to the minus fifteen-degree mark, as if proclaiming the majesty of winter to the world. The air is filled with a biting chill, and even breathing feels the cold and purity from the depths of nature. In this ancient city with a long history, the dawn outlines moving pictures on the old stone roads. Those ancient buildings, under the morning light, appear more solemn and mysterious, silently waiting for the warmth of the first ray of sunshine, as if telling the vicissitudes and changes of history.