2025 Summary
This content is based on Simplified Chinese and has been processed with AI-assisted translation. There may be some errors or expression inaccuracies. The original Simplified Chinese version shall prevail for final interpretation.
As I sit down to write this summary, the tree branches outside my window rustle in the cold wind. Winter has arrived once again, quietly and unobtrusively, like a familiar guest bringing its unique chill and tranquility.
Looking back on 2025, it may simply be an ordinary stretch in the river of my life—devoid of earth‑shattering turning points or dramatic, tumultuous stories. It resembles more a quietly flowing stream, where amid the routines of day after day lie memories worth collecting.
The end of the graduate school entrance exam marked both the beginning and the conclusion of this year's long journey. Interestingly, as I prepare to write these words, it happens to be just after this year's exam ends. Time seems to have tied itself in a knot, leaving me momentarily disoriented.
After the exam, my roommate and I discussed where to relax. We initially considered Tibet, but the transportation costs were prohibitive. Later, we thought about Gansu, but worried about the cold weather. In the end, we decided to visit Beijing, with brief stops planned in Xi'an and Wuhan along the way.
About a week later, we boarded a train to Beijing. Upon arrival, we visited the area around Tiananmen Square. For lunch, we had a bowl of zhajiangmian (noodles with soybean paste) at Fangzhuan Factory Zhajiangmian—the sesame paste flavor was rich but didn't quite suit my taste. However, the plum juice was perfectly balanced between sweet and sour, becoming the most memorable part of that meal. In the afternoon, we went to the Temple of Heaven Park and finally saw the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests that I'd previously only seen on television.
The next day, we visited the Forbidden City and the National Museum. The red walls and yellow tiles of the Forbidden City appeared especially solemn under the winter sun, and the place was so vast that it took us most of the morning to explore it thoroughly. The museum contained countless exhibits, but I was already feeling tired, so we left without seeing everything. That evening, we bought some beef buns from Ziguangyuan—well, they were probably beef buns; anyway, they were those meat-filled, dumpling-like items. They tasted good, and we also bought a whole chicken to take back.
Afterward, we visited the Old Summer Palace (Yuanmingyuan) and the Summer Palace (Yiheyuan). At lunchtime, not wanting to wait in long lines at crowded restaurants, we simply walked into a KFC. In an unfamiliar city, the familiar fast-food chain became a comforting presence. For dinner, we had hotpot, which was delicious, though the dipping sauce was still sesame paste. Everything else was fine, and by the way, the plum juice was excellent. It seems Beijing cuisine always comes with sesame paste—hotpot with sesame paste, cold dishes with sesame paste—which was somewhat challenging for someone like me who isn't accustomed to this flavor. Our itinerary was quite packed during these days, with constant walking that gradually made our steps heavier. Eventually, we had to cancel our plans for Xi'an and Wuhan.
This trip didn't cost much and was quite enjoyable overall. However, we couldn't visit some attractions, which we'll have to save for another time. Beijing's winter is dry and cold, but the profound sense of historical depth left a deep impression on me. Unfortunately, it didn't snow during those days, so I missed seeing Beijing after a snowfall.
Here are some photos I took in Beijing.
Afterward came the Spring Festival. My family and I went to my grandmother's house for the New Year celebrations, and we set off fireworks with the children from our extended family. Watching the colorful sparks bloom in the night sky and quickly fade away, their laughter and joy became one of the warmest memories of the year.
Shortly after the new semester began, graduate school entrance exam results were about to be announced. I remember Zhejiang Province's results were released sometime in the afternoon or evening of that day. While my roommates and classmates had already checked their scores, I was still anxiously waiting. When I finally saw my results, although my score wasn't particularly high, it should be sufficient to qualify for the interview based on previous years' standards. At that moment, my heart, which had been hanging in suspense, finally relaxed a bit. Afterward came preparing for and attending the interview.
After the interview concluded, time seemed to suddenly loosen its grip. Days became soft and slow, like a tightly wound string transforming into a gentle stream. Then came graduation thesis work and the graduation ceremony. Four years of undergraduate life slipped away quietly, too quickly to properly say goodbye.
During summer vacation back home, time seemed to be put on mute. Each day felt relaxed yet flew by rapidly. I knew such leisurely times would likely be rare in the future.
On the day I returned to Hangzhou for the September semester, my parents accompanied me. We strolled slowly through West Lake's autumn light, the lake shimmering gently while willow branches brushed softly against us, as if bidding farewell to my new chapter.
Graduate school life gradually became familiar—attending classes, reading papers, participating in group meetings. Time quietly slipped away amidst this daily routine. In my free time, I occasionally played games or read novels to pass the time. Additionally, Hangzhou's food seemed rather mild compared to my hometown's preference for stronger flavors, and the general lack of spiciness in most local dishes was somewhat difficult to adjust to.
The year 2025 did not award me any grand honors. Each day felt ordinary, even repetitive. I took things day by day, without any remarkable achievements—sometimes even the desire to strive seemed faint. I’ve come to accept that the world won’t turn upside down just because you make an effort. Some changes need time; others, answers that must be waited for.
For 2026, I don't wish for it to be "more exciting." I only hope to make small yet genuine changes, gradually improve myself, and learn to peacefully coexist with who I am. Those seemingly ordinary days might actually be fate's most generous gift—they teach us to find meaning in the mundane and discover beauty within repetition.
May everyone cherish each ordinary yet authentic day in the new year.
Changelog
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