Fuyang was formerly known as Fu Chun. In the 26th year of King Zheng of Qin (221 BC), Fu Chun County was established. On January 18, 1994, the county was abolished and the area was transformed into a city. Over the past 2,000 years, the rich and elegant Fuchun River has nurtured a series of outstanding figures, including the ancient Wu Dynasty Emperor Sun Quan, modern literary giant Yu Dafu, late Tang Dynasty poet Luo Yin, Yuan Dynasty great painter Huang Gongwang, Qing Dynasty father-son prime ministers Dong Bangda and Dong Gao, and many others. The footsteps of literary figures such as Li Bai, Wu Jun, Bai Juyi, Lu You, Su Dongpo, and Ji Xiaolan can be found throughout the area. The cultural and historical heritage is deeply rooted. With the longing and yearning for this thousand-year-old town, our EK team embarked on a two-day trip to Fuyang, Hangzhou on April 11, 2015. First, we drove to Shangshanzhu Village in Xin Deng Town, which is located in the southwest of Fuyang City and in the southeast of Xin Deng Town. At the home of the hospitable Fu Yi Comrade, we enjoyed a delicious meal prepared by Fu Mama herself: braised carp, steamed prawns, salted chicken, chestnut chicken stewed with chicken, braised pork ribs, stir-fried intestines, crispy spicy chicken kidneys, fried peanuts, fresh bamboo shoots stir-fried with snow peas, sour and spicy potato strips, and韭菜炒鸡蛋 (chives stir-fried with eggs). What's worth mentioning is that we also had the long-lost， authentic， and fragrant crispy rice crackers， which everyone ate and felt sweet in their hearts. This all demonstrated the highly skilled and hospitable cooking skills of Fu Mama. We carried a sense of deep excitement and sincere gratitude in our hearts.

After lunch, led by Director Fu, we hoisted our hoes and headed up the mountain to dig for bamboo shoots... As we walked along the country paths, the fresh fragrance of wheat wafted toward us. The wheat fields were lush and verdant, swaying gently in the breeze—just like a lake of emerald-green water. Entering the village entrance, we saw a huge stone bearing two large characters: “Up the Mountain.” Along a row of whitewashed walls, ancient sayings such as “Among all virtues, filial piety comes first” were painted in vivid colors. At the village’s head, a crystal-clear stream flowed slowly beneath the winding bridge. Willow trees along the banks had already sprouted tender green buds, and peach blossoms, urged on by the gentle spring breeze, were blooming joyfully. The stream itself was a delicate shade of green, and birds chirped cheerfully, sometimes perching on tree branches and at other times flitting back and forth among the pavilions along the bank—as if savoring the breathtaking scenery. Not far away, dense groves of tall bamboo and lush forests nestled around the village homes. Led by Director Fu, we began our climb up the hillside. As we walked and admired the surroundings, we found ourselves unexpectedly immersed in a bamboo forest. Looking out into the distance, we saw small bridges, flowing water, and quaint houses—all evoking an image of a secluded paradise, utterly removed from the hustle and bustle of the city. Here, there was nothing but tranquility and serenity—a place where the soul could be cleansed and refreshed. All the beautiful feelings one experiences here can be summed up in just two words: simplicity!

Arriving at Director Fu’s privately-owned bamboo grove, we were all eagerly anticipating a bountiful harvest today. Following the method Director Fu had taught us, we began carefully searching through the rugged, uneven, and pitted bamboo forest. Yet, the bamboo shoots seemed like mischievous little children playing hide-and-seek with us—each one elusive and hard to find. Working in pairs or small groups of three, everyone was bursting with excitement, eager to dig for the shoots themselves. Before long, we’d unearthed a variety of bamboo shoots, each uniquely shaped and sized: some were “miniature,” others short and stout, still others tall and slender, and even a few “giant” specimens. The faces of our comrades were brimming with sheer happiness! After finishing up our digging, we scrambled breathlessly to the very top of the mountain. As we looked out over the landscape, the faint morning mist, still lingering but beginning to dissipate, shimmered subtly in the sunlight. The surrounding mountains were enveloped in this ethereal haze—a haze that seemed like a playful child, winding its way along the mountainside, clinging persistently upward, or else resembling a white ribbon, meandering gracefully into the distance.

Due to our busy schedule, we reluctantly said goodbye to Shangshan Village and drove back to Hangzhou. Along the beautiful shores of West Lake, people came and went—some were dancing Latin, others were singing heartily, and still others were practicing Tai Chi. The scene was bustling with life and energy. In the distance, on the mirror-like surface of West Lake, several small boats gently swayed in the breeze. The tiny ripples stirred by the oars seemed like shimmering fish scales, spreading outward with the cool breeze... West Lake is a poem, a natural masterpiece, and a place of breathtaking beauty. Whether you’ve lived here for years or are just passing through briefly, everyone is captivated by its unparalleled splendor. Soon, we’ll be saying goodbye to West Lake and heading home. As the sun set, we turned around with lingering reluctance, gazing longingly at the West Lake left behind. From the bottom of our hearts, we wish West Lake an even bluer sky, greener grass, clearer waters, and more visitors!