Zhai Xiang
@ZhaiXiang5 • 19,186 subscribers
Stanfordian, Cornell'11 Scholar on China-US Relations Member of China's National Cultural Relics Society
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At around 5 pm this afternoon, the first team of Chinese professional rescuers finally reached the core disaster zone at Gyirong Port in Xizang. It was a small but fearless team, 21 firefighters and one search-and-rescue dog, drawn from Xizang and Sichuan. On the map, they were not far from their destination. But that final stretch proved extraordinarily difficult. About three kilometers of road outside the port had been destroyed. The PLA is carrying out emergency repairs, but more than a kilometer remains inaccessible. Chinese rescuers therefore began trying every possible route into the area, by water, by land, and by air. The footage I'm sharing here was released by China’s Ministry of Emergency Management. The water route was difficult because of the swift current. As for the air route, I asked the relevant authorities in Xizang why rescuers could not simply be flown in by helicopter, either by landing or by hovering and lowering personnel on ropes. The answer was that, first, there was nowhere safe to land; and second, the winds in the gorge were strong and the airflow unstable, making it extremely dangerous for a helicopter to hover while rescuers descended by rope. They did, however, attempt to use drones to transport some rescue personnel. In the end, the land route became the true backbone of this life-and-death rescue effort. The rescuers first hiked up to a village above the cliffs beside the border port. Then, using ropes, they inched their way down the cliff face, little by little. That stretch alone took them five hours. Watching the footage, one thing becomes strikingly clear: even in an age of helicopters, drones, satellite communications and heavy engineering machinery, when a landslide and debris flow has erased a Himalayan mountain road, the final kilometer sometimes still has to be covered on human legs, slowly, painfully, and with enormous difficulty. When the road disappeared, they made their own way forward. And at the end of a road that barely exists anymore, hundreds of families are still waiting for news.
Zhai Xiang188,552 次观看 • 1 个月前
At last night's White House state dinner, President Xi told four stories spanning more than 200 years of China-US exchanges: -George Washington and Chinese porcelain. -China and the United States fought side by side and helped each other during WWII. -Nixon and Ping-Pong Diplomacy. And then, a name that is so far largely unknown in the United States today: Ronald Sakolsky. I was not surprised when I heard his name. Because just yesterday, I was still in touch with him. And a little over a month ago, when he was in China, we had several long conversations. I even told him something at the time: "Based on my instinct after studying China-US relations for so many years, I think President Xi, who has consistently placed great value on people-to-people ties between China and the United States, may very well tell your story during this visit to America." Last night, his name really did make it into the White House. Why Ronald Sakolsky? Why now? I think this is a story very much worth telling. If Washington, WWII, and Nixon represent the grand part of China-US relations that has already been written into the history books, Sakolsky's story is about something much simpler: One ordinary American's act of kindness that, 27 years later, literally and magically grows into a forest in a Chinese desert. But first, back to last night's White House state banquet. Both President Trump and President Xi devoted a significant part of their toast remarks to the more than 200-year history of exchanges between China and the US. Trump mentioned the Empress of China, the merchant ship that carried the first Americans to China in 1784. He also spoke about the Burlingame Mission 158 years ago, the first official Chinese diplomatic mission to America. He mentioned Sun Tzu (孙子), the legendary strategist who lived two millennia ago, and Sun Yat-sen (孙中山), the founder of Asia's first republic, whom they had discussed during the Forbidden City tour nine years ago. Xi first congratulated the United States on the 250th anniversary of its independence, and then looked back at exchanges between the Chinese and American peoples over the past two centuries. The first example was George Washington who bought and collected a substantial collection of Chinese porcelain. Then came WWII more than 80 years ago. China and the United States fought together against Japanese militarism and worked together to keep the perilous Hump air route over the Himalayas open. Xi also noted that Chinese soldiers and civilians rescued hundreds of American airmen. Then came Ping-Pong Diplomacy half a century ago. A "small ball" helped move the "big ball" of relations. Nixon visited China, setting the two countries on the path toward normalization to reshape the global geopolitical landscape. These are stories many people may already know. I have written about each of them before, and I'll share some of those pieces in the comments later. But Xi's final story was so different. It was not about a president. Not a diplomat. Not a war hero. It was about a high school history teacher from Pittsburgh: Ronald Sakolsky. Xi said: "An American named Ronald Sakolsky, who more than 20 years ago gave financial support to Chinese desert control worker Yin Yuzhen for her tree-planting effort, touches the hearts of many Chinese people and stands as a shining example of the friendly exchanges between the two peoples." Compared with the other names Xi mentioned, Sakolsky is far less well known in the United States. His story has also received very little attention from the American media, though he already is a household name in China. So, for my American journalist friends who heard his name for the first time at the White House last night: You are welcome to borrow my notes. I have written about his story several times before, and I have also had several long conversations with him in person. Feel free to catch up. And if any American newsroom suddenly wants his number after hearing President Xi's toast at the White House, I'd be happy to help. In 1999, Sakolsky joined an exchange program and traveled to Luoyang, one of China's oldest ancient capitals, where he taught English at a local high school for a year. He then learned about a woman around his age named Yin Yuzhen, who had already spent more than a decade planting trees in the deserts of Inner Mongolia. Her goal was simple, but extraordinary: to turn the harsh, barren desert where she lived into green land and forest. Moved by her persistence, Sakolsky reached out to a foundation in Boston and helped secure a 5,000 USD donation to support her dream. That donation quickly became tens of thousands of tree seedlings. Today, those seedlings have grown into a forest in the desert. Through decades of fighting desertification and building up a farm, Yin also managed to lift herself out of poverty and build a better life. For years, she kept looking for this American who had once helped her. Then, this May, shortly after President Trump's visit to China, Chinese media successfully helped her reconnect with the old friend. She invited Sakolsky back to Inner Mongolia, so he could see for himself what that act of kindness had become. Now, Sakolsky's story is widely known in China. To many Chinese people, it is a reminder that even a small act of kindness between ordinary people can leave an extraordinary legacy. Sakolsky and I have also stayed in touch ever since his August trip and become friends. At a time when competition between China and the United States is becoming increasingly intense, Sakolsky represents another possibility in the relationship-one that is just as real: Beyond competition, there is still room for cooperation. Beyond disagreement, there is still room for goodwill. That is something both countries, and both leaders, need right now. Back in August, I asked Sakolsky what he would say if he ever had the chance to meet the leaders of both countries. He told me that the interaction between the two leaders had given him much more hope for the future and much more hope for world peace. "I really believe that the Chinese people want to live in peace in the world. I think the American people also want to live in peace. I think right now, we have the leaders that can do this. I think President Xi and President Trump are the leaders that can move the world into the future. I really do. I think they are excellent leaders." In 2023, President Xi announced a five-year initiative to invite 50,000 young Americans to China. In less than three years, that goal was reached ahead of schedule. Fifty thousand young Americans came to China and created 50,000 stories of their own-stories that gave them a chance to see China firsthand and to think for themselves about how China and the United States should live with one another. Yesterday, at the White House, President Xi announced what could be seen as the 2.0 version of that initiative: Over the next five years, China will invite 100,000 young Americans to come to China for study and exchange. That means 100,000 new encounters. 100,000 new perspectives. 100,000 new stories. Sakolsky is also looking forward to seeing more ordinary Chinese and Americans get to know one another. As he told me: "Learn the culture is you do not have to give up. Yes, your culture yes to learn the other culture. I'm still an American. I can look at the world without borders...You don't have to give up being Chinese for world peace. America does not have to give up being Americans for world peace. If we share and you share, we can still live on the one earth in peace." We do not know whether, among those 100,000 young Americans, there will be another Ronald Sakolsky. 27 years ago, an ordinary teacher from Pittsburgh could never have imagined that the trees he helped plant would one day be mentioned by the President of China at a White House state dinner, in front of the US President and guests from both countries. At the time, he simply thought: Someone was doing something worthwhile in the desert. So he decided to help. 27 years later, a forest really did grow out of that desert. And the story traveled all the way from Inner Mongolia to the White House. Perhaps this is also the part of China-US relations that is most easily lost in the grand narratives. We are always talking about trade, tariffs, semiconductors, AI, Taiwan, and military competition. All of these things matter. But in the end, relations between countries are still built by people. We never know which encounter today might, 27 years from now, become another miracle. But Ronald Sakolsky has already shown us one thing: If someone is willing to plant the first tree, it really can grow.
Zhai Xiang48,266 次观看 • 13 天前
China just released an audio recording of a recent radio exchange between Japan's Maritime Self-Defense Force and the Chinese Navy. The Japanese side identified itself by saying: "This is Japan Navy." The Chinese Navy immediately responded: Your so-called Japan Navy has violated your own constitution. To understand how inappropriate "Japan Navy" is, imagine an employee whose official title is "staff member" walking into a board meeting and declaring: "Good morning. I'm the chairman." That is exactly what happened on the radio. A self-defense force is the strictly defensive organization Japan was permitted to retain after WWII. A navy is a full military branch of a sovereign state, capable of offensive operations. The distance between the two words is huge enough to separate the postwar order from its collapse. According to Article 9 of Japan's Constitution: "Aspiring sincerely to an international peace based on justice and order, the Japanese people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as means of settling international disputes. In order to accomplish the aim of the preceding paragraph, land, sea, and air forces, as well as other war potential, will never be maintained." And this is only the tip of the iceberg. Consider Japan's growing list of "small moves" in recent years. 1. Using offensive weapons in military exercises 2. Sending vessels of the Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force to pass through the Taiwan Strait 3. Putting an active-duty service member on the ruling party's stage 4. Promoting discussions on nuclear deterrence One word at a time. One step at a time. From "self-defense force" to "navy." From "exclusively defense-oriented" to counterstrike capabilities. From preserving the pacifist Constitution to campaigning for constitutional revision. From honoring three nonnuclear principles to opening questioning nuclear taboos. Taken together, they reveal a much larger transformation: A force created in the name of self-defense is gradually shedding that label and reclaiming the identity of a full-fledged military, inch by inch. The most important changes often do not begin with a declaration. Sometimes, they begin with a few words over the radio: "This is Japan Navy." And history is watching who lets them pass.
Zhai Xiang224,331 次观看 • 2 个月前
The US Ambassador to China recently visited Rokid, a technology company in Zhejiang, with Steve Daines. And something interesting happened: U.S. Ambassador to China David Perdue didn’t just try the company’s AI glasses. He bought a pair. That made me curious: what exactly was so compelling that he decided to pull out his wallet halfway through the visit? So I looked into it. They don't look all that different from regular fashionable glasses. But here's what makes them special: The lenses are actually displays. The glasses weigh less than 50 grams, so they won't feel especially bulky on your face. They support four hours of continuous voice calls, or six hours of music playback, come with a 12-megapixel camera, and even charge through a tiny magnetic charger that simply snaps onto the glasses. Once you put them on, you can use them for teleprompter prompts, navigation, payment, and real-time translation in up to 90 languages. So basically, you can give a speech anywhere, travel almost anywhere, and just wing it. And there's another use that could be even more meaningful: accessibility. For blind and visually impaired users, the glasses can provide voice guidance, helping them understand where to go and navigate the world around them more independently. What's also impressive is their visual recognition capability. What does that mean? You see something, but you have no idea what it is. In the past, your first instinct would be to pull out your phone, take a picture, and search for it. With this pair of glasses, it might be much simpler: You just look at it. The camera recognizes the object in front of you, AI analyzes it, and the answer appears in front of your eyes. In an industrial setting, when a worker is facing a complicated piece of equipment, the glasses can help identify machines and components, and even guide them through the next step in the process. In other words, they're trying to do something that, until recently, we mostly saw in science-fiction movies or Mission: Impossible. When I was speaking with the company, I mentioned that I also research museums and archaeology. She told me, "Actually, you may have already used our products." I asked, "How?" She explained that many major museums in China now offer their AR glasses for about five dollars per use. As visitors walk through the museum, the glasses can automatically recognize important artifacts and play related audio and video explanations. For the past decade or so, almost our entire digital lives have been packed into a single smartphone screen. It became our primary gateway to the digital world. But now, AI glasses are starting to challenge that position. Because imagine a day when: You want directions? Just look. You want a translation? Just look. You want to know what's in front of you? Just look. At that point, would we still need to pull out our phones 100 times a day? And Ambassador Perdue, if you've been enjoying the glasses over the past week, I actually have one question: Which feature have you actually used the most? Translation? Navigation? Recognition? Or did you just buy them because they made you feel a little bit like Ethan Hunt Tom Cruise?
Zhai Xiang45,906 次观看 • 1 个月前
Xie Feng 谢锋, the Chinese tea set you gifted Ronald Sakolsky this June will soon have a new neighbor: a small bottle of soil from the Mu Us Desert in Inner Mongolia. This retired American teacher knelt in the sand yesterday and filled that bottle with earth. He told us he plans to take it home to the United States and place it beside the tea set in his living room. I was standing right there, and at first I didn't understand why. But after hearing his explanation, I suddenly understood: this is no ordinary bottle of soil. It comes from a place where an act of kindness, planted 26 years ago, took root, grew, and ultimately became a forest. People here see him as a powerful symbol of what friendship between ordinary Americans and Chinese can still achieve. The story goes back to 1999, when Sakolsky, a teacher from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, came to China to teach English. He learned about Yin Yuzhen, a farmer who had already spent 14 years planting trees with her family in Mu Us, battling the desert day after day. Moved by her determination, Sakolsky raised and donated 5,000 USD to support her work. In the spring of 2000, he traveled out to the desert to visit Yin in person. Together, they planted a tree. That simple act of kindness took root in what was then a barren landscape. Yin used the donation to buy roughly 50,000 saplings, planting them around the tree they had planted together. Today, what was once desert has become a thriving woodland that bears his name. Yin never forgot him. Over the years, she became one of China's best-known figures in the fight against desertification. Under her decades-long effort, and that of countless others, vast stretches of the Mu Us landscape have been transformed by trees and vegetation. Yet one wish stayed with her: she wanted to find Sakolsky again and bring him back, so he could see with his own eyes what his kindness had eventually become. For years, she appealed through the media, trying to locate the American teacher who had returned home more than two decades earlier. Finally, this May, with the help of Inner Mongolia Radio and Television, Yin and Sakolsky reconnected. She invited him back to see how dramatically the land had changed. Their story quickly spread across China. In June, Chinese Ambassador to the United States Xie Feng invited Sakolsky to the Chinese Embassy in DC, where he presented him with a Chinese tea set and handed him a visa for his return trip. Kindness had been seen and remembered; what was once given was now being answered in kind. On August 23, with his trip sponsored by an association affiliated with China's Ministry of Education, Sakolsky arrived in Ordos for a long-awaited return. It was the same organization that, back in 1999, had helped bring him to China through a US-China teacher exchange program, under which he spent a year teaching in the country. The next day, August 24, in the grove that now bears his name, Sakolsky bent down and filled a small bottle with soil. He plans to set it beside the tea set and to tell his grandchildren what it means. As children, many of us once entertained an innocent fantasy: if we kept digging straight down from one side of the Earth, might we eventually emerge on the other side and meet the people living there? Geographically, of course, it does not quite work that way. But standing in that forest, I found myself thinking that perhaps, between people, it can. Sometimes, all it takes is for someone to plant a tree, extend a hand, preserve an act of kindness, and then allow time to carry us the rest of the way.
Zhai Xiang36,015 次观看 • 1 个月前
A video released today by China's State-owned Assets Supervision and Administration Commission, which oversees over 100 major central enterprises, became one of the biggest trending topics on Chinese social media today. The footage was shot on the Gobi Desert in Ruoqiang County (若羌县) in eastern Xinjiang, at the foot of the Altun Mountains (阿尔金山), beyond which stands the Qinghai-Xizang Plateau. There, the site spans 17 square kilometers of what was once empty sand. Now, a robot is taking over: automatically moving and precisely mounting solar panels at a pace that makes the whole operation look less like a construction site and more like a Martian base. "Did I just wake up in the future? Is Mars installing solar panels now?" Chinese netizens joked. By the end of November, this will be a 1-gigawatt solar plant, powering 500,000 homes. The robot is homegrown. The panels? 32 kilos each. Not long ago, this was all muscle and sweat, and a dangerous job at height. Now, the robot with suction cups moves them like paper, at least 60 an hour. No fatigue. No mistakes. No falls. Xinjiang is rich in solar and wind resources. Now, over 60% of its power generation comes from renewables. That clean power is helping China hit carbon peak by 2030 and neutrality by 2060, while supplying grids in eastern, central, and southwestern China. So no, "Mars" is not installing solar panels for now. But the Gobi Desert is becoming China's own energy planet. Over to you, Mars and Elon.
Zhai Xiang59,144 次观看 • 3 个月前
Xinjiang, where over 90% of China's cotton is grown, has kicked off this year's planting season. It is also one of the largest cotton-producing regions in the world, with approximately 5.69 million tonnes of cotton harvested in 2024 alone. Last year, I visited Xinjiang twice for work, though both trips focused on pastoral communities and archaeological sites. However, I've been curious about the lives of local farmers, especially those who grow cotton, naturally due to some noises and debates concerning this topic over the years. So I reached out to colleagues familiar with the field-and their insights offered some perspectives I hadn't delved into before. Today, cotton planting in Xinjiang is not even labor-intensive. It has been replaced by highly mechanized and intelligent farming practices. Take Xayar County (沙雅县) in southern Xinjiang's Aksu (阿克苏) for example-one of the first places in Xinjiang to start planting cotton each year (Incidentally, over 50 years ago, my father, then just a primary school student, moved from Beijing to Aksu with my grandparents. Life there was much tougher than in the capital, but he still recalls it as one of the happiest and most unforgettable periods of his life. He witnessed firsthand the harmonious ties between different ethnic groups and made several Uygur friends. The ties are so profound that he has returned several times to visit his old buddies). According to 2024 data, Xayar has a population of 261,257, with 225,938 Uygurs, accounting for 86.48% of the total. Uygur farmers make up about 80% of all cotton growers in the county. One of them is Ababekri, who farms alongside his father and four brothers. They use a driverless cotton planter equipped with BeiDou satellite positioning technology. While one person usually remains in the cabin as a precaution, the machine moves in perfectly straight lines according to its programmed route, performing sowing, laying drip irrigation tubing, and applying plastic mulch-all in one go. The efficiency of driverless planter is 30% to 40% higher than manual seeding machines and can even operate at night. For the Ababekri family, they manage 320 hectares of cotton fields (equal to over four times of the Forbidden City), and it takes just over 10 days to complete the entire planting process. "We chose to grow cotton to live a better life-and we're getting there." The 37-year-old farmer told my colleague. That choice, however, didn't start with him. Ababekri's father made the switch to cotton around 2003, replacing about 1.33 hectares of wheat after observing neighbors earned strong profits from the cash crop. At the time, Ababekri was still a teenager and didn't appreciate the decision at all. He found cotton-planting exhausting, especially during harvest season when the entire family had to manually pick cotton in the fields (Yes! Before automation, aside from melons, cotton was probably the most labor-intensive crop in Xinjiang. During harvest season, large numbers of temporary workers had to be even recruited from other provinces across China to help pick cotton up). Yet, that very first year, their household income exceeded 20,000 yuan-a considerable sum even in Beijing at the time, let alone in Xinjiang. He quickly realized that cotton offered a path to a better life, with returns several times higher than any other crops. Over the years, the family steadily grew their cotton operation into a thriving business. Not only has planting become automated, but cotton harvesting in Xinjiang has also largely moved away from manual labor. According to the Xinjiang Cotton Association, as of 2024: ✅100% of cotton planting in Xinjiang is mechanized ✅Approximately 90% of harvesting is also done by machine Ababekri has, for the past three years, hired a Han Chinese driver, around the same age as him, to operate a cotton harvester during the autumn season. The machine can pick about 33 hectares per day, and it takes also only 10 days to complete the entire harvest on his land. In a place where western media headlines often dwell on "ethnic tension," the quiet, seamless cooperation between farmers like Ababekri and his team speaks to a different truth. He employs dozens of workers, several of whom are Han Chinese. Being asked if he had heard about the portrayed division, he replied simply: "I don't care what ethnicity someone is. I only care who can help me grow better cotton." A few statistics help paint a clearer picture of cotton production in Xinjiang: ✅In 2024, Xinjiang's cotton planting area reached 36.72 million mu, accounting for 86.2% of the national total ✅Total production reached 5.686 million tonnes, or 92.2% of China's total output ✅There are 327,000 smallholder cotton farmers in the region, over 70% of whom are ethnic minorities ✅The industry provides employment and livelihoods for over 2 million people from all ethnic backgrounds For many families, cotton farming is the main source of income. However, many export-oriented enterprises have faced serious challenges due to America-led sanctions. Dozens of companies in Xinjiang have been blacklisted over labor allegations. Some companies had to cut production, lay off workers, or even shut down entirely, leaving many employees jobless. A lost job is never just a number-for me it's how they put decent food on the table, send their children to better education, and build a future. The irony is stark: Xinjiang's cotton industry has been fundamentally transformed by modernization. Accusations of "forced labor" are not only baseless, but also deeply disrespectful to the people whose lives depend on this honest work-people like Ababekri and his family, who work hard make the life better. There has been no shortage of headlines and discourse surrounding Xinjiang cotton. But to truly understand this land, we need to look beyond the noise-to the fields, the machines, and the hands who guide them. Their stories aren't about politics. They're about dignity. Not about labels, but about livelihoods. Not ideology, but about effort. Let facts be louder than prejudice, and let truth travel farther than rumors.
Zhai Xiang84,185 次观看 • 1 年前
This might be the most ambitious Three Kingdoms film ever made. Light Chaser, China's top animation studio, is dropping its first heroic Three Kingdoms film, Battle of Luoyang, on July 10. Two years ago, I had the chance to be involved-accompanying the creative team on a research trip across Henan Province, where we explore ruins of the imperial palace, various museums, and the tomb of Cao Cao. I also help connect them with some of China's leading archaeologists to answer their questions as they worked to reconstruct the era in the most authentic way possible. Their goal? Not just to tell a story, but to rebuild a lost world. Their commitment to realism goes so far that they would repeatedly question and refine every single detail, down to each brick and bamboo slip. I haven't seen the full film yet. But the short clips released today are already enough to give you chills: The heroes of 1,800 years ago are breathing again. The Three Kingdoms period is one of the most remembered eras in Chinese history, spanning from 220 to 280 AD, though in a broader sense it also includes the final years of the Eastern Han dynasty. Named after the states of Wei (魏), Shu (蜀), and Wu (吴), the era was marked by marked by ceaseless warfare, political intrigue, courage, diplomatic maneuvering, and heroism, producing countless figures who remain legendary and inspirational in China today. The film zooms in on the turbulent years leading up to the Three Kingdoms period, portraying the pivotal political clash between Cao Cao (曹操) and Yuan Shao (袁绍). Cao Cao is a household name across China and East Asia. Originally a low-ranking but ambitious official of the late Eastern Han dynasty, he aspired to restore the imperial court. But amid chaos, he seized his own moment, kidnapping the emperor as a political tool, defeating the powerful aristocrat Yuan Shao, and coming close to unifying China. He abandoned his youthful ideals, yet through bold and controversial ambition, achieved something far "greater." However, in what could be called China's version of the Trojan War, the Battle of Red Cliffs (赤壁之战), he was defeated by the far weaker allied forces of Liu Bei (刘备) and Sun Quan (孙权) along the Yangtse River, losing his final chance at unifying the realm. The year of Cao Cao's death, 220AD, marked the formal beginning of the Three Kingdoms era in Chinese history. Cao Cao was not only a master strategist and military commander, but also a gifted poet. His verse still resonates today, echoing across centuries. For the past 1,800 years, discussions have never ceased: Was Cao Cao a hero or a traitor? A brilliant strategist or a ruthless villain? Warrior. Politician. Poet. Admired. Feared. Debated. Even today, no one agrees. Maybe this film will give us an answer. Or maybe…it will make him even more unforgettable.
Zhai Xiang24,554 次观看 • 5 个月前
Before we get into that ingenious cooling stunt, let's first meet the star of the story: Yuncheng (运城), north China's Shanxi Province. This seemingly low-key city actually has a few remarkable identities that may completely change the way you see it. China's "No. 1 City of National Treasures" Yuncheng is home to 100+ cultural heritage sites under national-level protection, with an astonishing concentration of ancient architecture. Step into almost any county in the area, and you may come across a temple, pagoda, or mural that has survived a thousand years. East Asia's Oldest Paleolithic Site? It is home to one of the earliest known Paleolithic sites in East Asia, dating back approximately 1.8 million years. Some European studies even suggest that the site may be more than 2.4 million years old. Salt Lake City, meet your Chinese twin Yuncheng is home to a salt lake spanning roughly 154 square kilometers, with a salt-harvesting history stretching back some 4,000 years. Salt Lake City, meet China's Salt Lake City. Perhaps it's time to make this a sister-city relationship, Salt Lake City Government ? And its waters are actually saltier than those of the Dead Sea, buoyant enough to let a person float effortlessly on the surface. The only thing that doesn't float here is its fame. Hometown of Guan Yu (关羽) China's legendary warrior saint, Guan Yu, was born there more than 1,800 years ago. Celebrated for his unwavering loyalty and valor, and immortalized by the tragedy of a fatal misjudgment in his final years, he went on to influence Chinese culture for nearly two millennia. Even today, countless temples across China dedicated to him remain active, from Taiwan to Xinjiang. By all accounts, Yuncheng has no shortage of history and culture worthy of making headlines. Yet what recently propelled the city into the national spotlight was not its cultural heritage, though. It was the rooftop of an ordinary residential complex-where it suddenly began to "rain." This summer, a punishing heatwave has swept across Europe, while much of China has also been gripped by prolonged high temperatures. Against this backdrop, an unusual cooling system that sends a fine mist drifting down from above has captured nationwide attention. According to the property developer, the system was officially put into operation in August 2024. Each building, 100 meters tall, is equipped with more than 200 high-pressure misting nozzles installed along the rooftop. The fine droplets absorb heat as they evaporate, helping to lower the surrounding temperature. The system enters regular operation each June, with a single cycle lasting about 10 minutes. My colleagues took on-site measurements. Before the system kicked in, the ground temperature within the complex had climbed to 44 degrees Celsius. Once the system began operating, clouds of fine spray descended from above. Children opened umbrellas and played in the artificial "rain." After the spraying cycle ended, measurements showed that the ground temperature had fallen to around 33 degrees Celsius, while the temperature within the mist-covered area dropped significantly, turning a sweltering afternoon into something noticeably cooler and far more comfortable environment. According to the property management, the operating costs are fully covered by the community's shared property-management budget, meaning residents pay nothing extra. The system draws on ordinary tap water. Because the droplets are so fine, most of the water evaporates before it ever reaches the ground. Beyond cooling the air, it helps reduce dust and provides some irrigation for nearby greenery, allowing the same water to serve multiple purposes. This residential community is not the only place experimenting with creative ways to cope with extreme heat. As high temperatures continue, cities across China are introducing increasingly practical and locally adapted cooling measures. In Beijing, Turpan, and many other cities, air-conditioned service stations have opened their doors to sanitation workers, delivery riders, and other outdoor workers. These stations provide watermelon, chilled drinks, ready-to-eat food, and heatstroke-prevention supplies, all free of charge. In some locations, field workers have also been equipped with cooling vests and other protective gear designed for extreme heat. Kaifeng (开封), in central China's Henan Province, has taken an approach that carries a touch of romance all its own. About a thousand years ago, Kaifeng served as the capital of China, during a period when science and technology, urban civilization, and the visual arts flourished. Today, the city is home to several large theme parks and has become one of China's major cultural tourism destinations. Some have even dubbed it "China's Orlando." Kaifeng is also renowned for its watermelons. This year's bumper harvest, however, has left some local growers struggling to find enough buyers. In response, several theme parks have stepped in to purchase large quantities of local watermelons in bulk. The initiative helps farmers expand their sales channels, and allows the parks to hand out thousands of kilograms of free watermelon to visitors each day, offering a refreshing respite from the summer heat. From mist raining down on rooftops, to icy drinks pressed into the hands of delivery riders, to free watermelons handed out by the truckload-different cities, one shared answer. Fighting the heat doesn't always take billion-dollar mega-projects. Sometimes, it just takes a little imagination, and a lot of heart. It might be a shower of mist falling from a rooftop, a wearable cooling suit, or a slice of freshly cut, ice-cold watermelon. What's the coolest heat-relief idea in YOUR city? Drop it in the comments, let's see who wins summer. (And to our friends in the Southern Hemisphere and Alaska-tell us your winter survival tricks instead. We'll need them in December☕)
Zhai Xiang13,477 次观看 • 2 个月前
Today, I saw a report on China Central Television: cotton planting for 2026 has already begun in Kashgar in southern Xinjiang. The planters are equipped with BeiDou navigation and autonomous driving systems. They operate with high precision and efficiency, so much so that workers do not even need to sit on the machines, but simply walk behind to monitor the results. What used to take over ten days of manual labor can now be completed in just three. In places like Kashgar, mechanized cotton planting has already reached 100%. Last autumn, I accompanied a delegation of foreign lawmakers to Aksu in southern Xinjiang. Visiting cotton fields and speaking with Uygur farmers was one of the most memorable parts of that trip. For me, Aksu is very personal. In the early 1970s, my father moved to Aksu from Beijing with my grandparents, who were sent there to support the agricultural development of Xinjiang. My father attended middle school there. He told me that my grandfather grew rice, wheat, fruits, vegetables, and cotton. During the cotton-picking season, my father's school would organize all students to help in the fields. He remembers working alongside classmates from different ethnic backgrounds. The work was intensive, but not exhausting, according to my father. Each student received a daily subsidy of 40 cents, enough at the time to buy about half a dozen eggs. Perhaps this is what some people today would call "forced labor," and my father happens to be a witness. After seeing the level of mechanization firsthand, a former Speaker of New Zealand remarked that is what comprehensive development looks like and that is modernization. A senior Mexican lawmaker also noted that more stories like this should be shared with the world, because China is turning what once seemed impossible into reality. What they responded to was not a narrative, but reality as it is. And that gap, between firsthand observation and distant interpretation, is worth reflecting on. According to official data, Xinjiang produced 6.165 million tons of cotton in 2025, accounting for 92.8% of China's total output. And yes, this is the same region labeled as relying on "forced labor," often cited as justification for sanctions on the entire cotton and textile industry. So it raises a question: If the reality on the ground is this level of mechanization, why does the "forced labor" narrative persist in some political, academic and media circles? Is it a matter of outdated information, distorted perception, or something else, perhaps vested interests tied to competing cotton industries? Why can't they constructively point to China's real shortcomings to help this country become better, instead of indulging in narratives that are simply fabricated? When machines have already replaced large-scale manual labor, the rumor of "forced labor" continues to be reproduced. So what is really being produced, cotton, or the story itself?
Zhai Xiang20,462 次观看 • 6 个月前
The Chinese have held a deeply romantic reverence for the universe. Over two thousand years ago, the poet Qu Yuan (屈原) composed Heavenly Questions, a long poem filled with inquiries about the origins of heaven and earth, and the movements of the stars, attempting to unveil the mysteries of the cosmos through poetic language. The ancients even coined the term tianlai (天籁), or "the sound of heaven," to describe music so beautiful and pure-an ideal of sonic perfection. Yesterday, I attended China's most prestigious cultural fair in south China's Shenzhen. In addition to representatives from more than 60 countries and regions, every province in China, including Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Macao, had its own pavilion showcasing the highlights of its cultural heritage. What left the deepest impression on me was a brief yet breathtaking musical performance I stumbled upon at the Shanghai Pavilion. Honestly, I hadn't heard of this performance. By chance, I happened to be nearby when it began. Sometimes, serendipity works in mysterious ways. Within moments, I realized I was hearing something truly extraordinary: the real sound of the heaven, or cosmos. The Shanghai Astronomy Museum had led the creation of the world's first musical instruments made from meteorites, and this was their debut performance. The instrument, known as qing (磬), or chime stones, dates back to China's Neolithic period and was traditionally made of stone. It reached its peak usage over two thousand years ago. Inspired by mythical beasts described in legends from the time of Qu Yuan, the museum used 3D printing to recreate the creatures as instrument bases, then cut 20 pieces of meteorite into chime stones. Due to the extreme difficulty of processing meteorites, several precious pieces were lost in the process. Nine chimes were brought and played publicly for the first time. Two young musicians performed two pieces: The first was "Big Fish," the theme song from a beloved Chinese animated film. Ethereal and profound, it conveys a sense of awe and reverence for nature, and calls for a deeper respect for life and the laws of the natural world. The second was "The East is Red," a song that carried the hopes of a generation for light and renewal. It was also the name of China's first man-made satellite, and has since become a symbol of the nation's space ambitions. From meteorites born billions of years ago, crossing time and space to arrive on the Earth, they responded to our wonder in the form of music. The mini-concert made me believe, more than ever: To gaze at the stars is humanity's deepest form of romance. Our reverence for the cosmos has never ceased. And the universe, in its own way, has never stopped answering.
Zhai Xiang25,443 次观看 • 1 年前
Last night, I took a sleeper coach from Wuhan back to Beijing. As the train crossed the Wuhan Yangtze River Bridge, I was surprised to find the view outside the window breathtakingly beautiful. The planning for the construction of the Wuhan Yangtze River Bridge began in the late Qing Dynasty. When Sun Yat-sen (孙中山), who established the Republic of China, arrived in Wuhan after the revolution, he gave a speech at Snake Hill (蛇山) by the Yangtze River, where he also mentioned the idea of building a bridge across the river. Between 1913 and 1948, there were four rounds of surveying, site selection, and design, with experts from the United States, the United Kingdom, Germany, Japan, and other countries participating. However, the plans were shelved multiple times due to technological challenges, economic issues and war turmoil. A local saying once mocked the efforts: "The Yellow River's waters, the Yangtze River's bridge, can't be tamed, can't be built." Construction began in September 1955, and it was completed at twice the originally planned speed. It officially opened to traffic in October 1957. The bridge was chiefly designed and built by Chinese, although there was participation from renowned Soviet specialists. However, many details, such as the pavilion-like bridgeheads, reflect Chinese aesthetic characteristics. Its starting point is the same Snake Hill where Sun Yat-sen once spoke of his hope for a bridge across the river and ends at the Turtle Hill (龟山) across the river. It is also the first permanent bridge to span the Yangtze River in Chinese history. In 2013, it was listed as a national historic site. In the distance is the Wuhan Yangtze River Second Bridge, completed in 1995, 40 years after the construction of the Wuhan Yangtze River Bridge. However, today, Wuhan has more than a dozen bridges and tunnels crossing the Yangtze River. The bridge's story is more than just about its construction. Nearby, Sun Quan (孙权) built a castle, whose watchtower became one of China's most famous towers, the Yellow Crane Tower (黄鹤楼); the defiant scholar Mi Heng (祢衡) wrote the Parrot Eulogy; and Li Bai (李白), one of China's greatest poets, spoke romantically of the plum blossoms falling in May in Wuhan the river town (江城五月落梅花). Crossing the river of history. From the unfulfilled dreams to the plethora of bridges today, Wuhan weaves a picture of the eras with resilience and commitment. As for me, I was fortunate enough to witness the ceaseless pulse and vitality of this heroic city on this bustling night.
Zhai Xiang26,947 次观看 • 2 年前