This city feels vast, solemn, ancient —
as if every wall has witnessed the passing of dynasties.

There are afternoons when sunlight falls upon glazed rooftops,
old cypress trees stand still in the wind,
and the sky turns so blue
you almost forget what time it is.

In Beijing,
everything feels immense.

The gates.
The avenues.
The architecture built as though it were meant to outlive centuries.

Yet somewhere within that grandeur,
there are still moments that feel strangely small:
a girl standing quietly beneath the Temple of Heaven,
a corner of the city at golden hour,
a glance turned back beneath the dark green trees.

Beijing does not make people fall in love instantly.

But if you have ever walked through this city on a clear autumn afternoon,
it becomes very difficult to forget the color of its sky.