I understood Jiangnan between the high-speed railway and the Wupeng boat

Bund → West Lake→Wuzhen

From the jingling of trams on the Bund to the rustling of oars on West Lake, and then stepping on the morning dew of Wuzhen, this journey is like a Longjing with green plum wine in a cup, with the bones of Jiangnan hidden in its sweetness. The Cong you bing at the subway entrance, the Pianerchuan near the Broken Bridge, and the salted and fresh Xizha B&B, the maps on the tip of the tongue are more vivid than the navigation. The delta interwoven with water networks, even the wind carries the humidity of Wu Nong's soft language, immersing the century old stories of the Bund into the moonlight of West Lake, and turning them into the aroma of yellow wine under the eaves of Wuzhen.

The Bund: Old Stories in the River Wind

In the morning of Shanghai Metro Line 2, the car was filled with the aroma of Xiaolongbao. Get out of Nanjing East Road and turn a corner to see the Huangpu River. The tall buildings on the other side are like building blocks, and the ball of the Oriental Pearl TV Tower is still stained with morning fog. Strolling along the east coast of Zhongshan, stone houses stand one after another, with pointed roofs, domes, and carved balconies, as if walking into an old movie. There is a white haired old lady sitting at the entrance of the Peace Hotel knitting a sweater, with the sound of knitting needles ringing, echoing the bell of the customs building.

At dusk, buy a ticket for a double decker bus. The red bus rumbled up the hill, and the wind on the top floor made people squint their eyes. The lights on the Bund lit up one after another, the international architectural complex turned into golden building blocks, and the cruise ship dragged its neon tail across the river. The driver announced the station in Shanghai dialect, "Jinling East Road Pier!" I jumped out of the car with my camera in hand, leaned lightly against the railing, and let the salty and humid river breeze brush my cheeks. On the other side, the glass curtain wall of Lujiazui was performing a light show, casting layers of waves on the water waves.

West Lake: Slow Life in Ink Painting

The next morning, I took the high-speed train to Hangzhou and arrived in forty minutes. Get out of the East Station and take the subway to Longxiangqiao Station, which leads directly to Hubin. As soon as I stepped onto the white embankment, water vapor rushed onto my face, and clusters of willow trees hooked my footsteps like this. Willow branches hung onto the lake, shattering a pool of morning light. On the Su Causeway, there were three steps, one peach, five steps, and one willow. The peach blossoms were in full bloom, and a girl stood on tiptoe to pick them. The gardener stopped her with a smile and said, "Little mermaid, the flowers need to be left for everyone to see

At noon, I was eating a slice of Sichuan at a small restaurant by the Broken Bridge, with piles of snow, vegetables, and bamboo shoots sticking out. The uncle at the neighboring table said in Hangzhou dialect, "The water of West Lake was transformed from the tears of Xu Xian and Bai Niangzi." After dinner, he rented a bicycle and strolled along Yanggong Causeway. Wild ducks hide in the reed beds of Maojiabu, and the Leifeng Pagoda shines with golden light in the sunset. Coincidentally, I encountered a music fountain where the water column danced to the tune of 'Jasmine Flower', splashing droplets onto my face, creating a cool sensation.

Wuzhen: The Old Times of Water Town

From Hangzhou to Wuzhen, take the high-speed rail to Tongxiang first, and then transfer to a bus. The car window of K282 reflects the green rice fields, and suddenly a white wall and black tiles flash by. The stone road in Xizha still carries morning dew, and the black roofed boat glides across the river. The blue printed cloth scarf of the boatwoman sways in the morning light. The blue cloth curtain of the dyeing workshop hung down to the river, and some tourists reached out to touch it. The shop owner smiled and reminded them, "Sister, this needs to be dried

At noon, I had steamed white water fish at the homestay, and the landlady brought home brewed green plum wine. Taste it, it's sweet and sweet. "The wine entered my throat, reminding me of the Pingtan I heard by West Lake last night. Walking along the Xishi River in the evening, the lanterns light up one after another, reflecting in the water like a string of luminous Tomatoes on sticks. In the old post office, a girl is writing a letter to her future self, and the tip of her pen is rustling.

As the night deepens, find a tea house by the river and sit down. The tea master held a long mouthed copper pot and performed the tea ceremony, boiling water in a silver arc. On the opposite side of the stage came the murmuring singing, and Wu Nong's soft words spun on the water before gently landing on the bluestone board. The water of Jiangnan flows from the Bund to West Lake, and then into the river of Wuzhen, as if carrying a thousand year story, creating ripples in my teacup.