At Hanshan Yayuan, embark on a Zen-inspired rendezvous with a thousand-year-old temple

🥰🥰🥰 As the car turned onto the flagstone path of Hanshan Cultural Tourism Scenic Area, the gray-tiled Hanshan Yayuan came into view. Nestled east of Yongquan Temple, this courtyard features a rustic wooden plaque inscribed with "Hanshan Yayuan" in clerical script above its gate, flanked by two lush old elms whose shade covers half the entrance. Just steps away from the ancient temple, its upturned eaves and glazed tiles shimmer under the sunset, enveloping visitors in Zen ambiance before even stepping inside. 😘😘😘 During check-in, the front desk staff handed me a warm cup of jujube tea: "If you rise early tomorrow, you’ll hear Yongquan Temple’s morning bell." While accepting the tea, I noticed an old wooden shelf in the corner neatly stacked with booklets about Hanshan’s history. Flipping through a few pages felt like a prelude to the experience. The guestroom blends classical elegance with a predominantly Chinese aesthetic—sun-dried bedding, fluffy and soft to the touch. A small table by the window held a delicate tea set, and outside, the temple stood within view. Leaves cast dancing shadows on the white walls as the breeze passed, creating a living painting. The bathroom was stocked with unique toiletries that left my skin refreshed, washing away travel fatigue. 🥳🥳🥳 In the afternoon, I tried Hanfu styling at the scenic area’s service center. The robe, embroidered with subtle pine motifs, fit perfectly. Strolling along Yongquan Temple’s red walls, I spotted clusters of violets at their base, occasionally visited by butterflies. Sunlight filtered through vermilion lattice windows, dappling my sleeves. Running my fingers over the weathered bricks, I could almost touch centuries of history. 😋😋😋 Meals were homely and authentic. Breakfast was served on the courtyard’s stone table: coarse porcelain bowls of corn porridge topped with a layer of rice oil, paired with crispy pickled mustard greens and steaming millet buns—comforting warmth in every bite. At dinner, I shared a table with an elderly couple from Taiyuan. The husband pointed at the oat noodles and remarked, "These taste best freshly hand-rolled; store-bought ones can’t compare." Tossed with tomato sauce, the slippery noodles paired perfectly with stir-fried cabbage and braised potatoes with beans—simple yet deeply satisfying. 😍😍😍 On my last morning, I rose early for Yongquan Temple’s dawn service. Standing in Yayuan’s courtyard, I listened as the bell’s resonance startled sparrows into flight around an old locust tree. At checkout, the front desk girl handed me a bottle of their homemade wild jujube juice: "For the road, to ease fatigue." Its sweet-tart tang, with a hint of astringency, seemed to bottle up the Zen spirit of my stay. As I drove away, the courtyard gate remained slightly ajar, wind chimes swaying gently. From afar, Yongquan Temple’s bell rang again, mingling with the scent of grass and leaves—not a farewell, but a "see you later."