Yang Xinjia: They Say Spring Is Here

Several years ago, spring seemed to be held at a distance, as if quarantined somewhere far away. Yet within the residential compound, life continued almost unchanged. People took their daily walks. Others practiced tai chi in slow, measured movements. In the open spaces, groups gathered for their evening dances. Children played as they always had. Blossoms fell quietly from the flame trees. Sparrows lingered on the lawns, searching for food. Turtles and fish moved through the river’s slow current. The wind continued to blow. The rain continued to fall. Two or three years later, people began to say that spring might be coming. No one was certain. Still, within the compound, daily rhythms remained much the same. Walkers kept walking. Tai chi practitioners continued their practice. Dancers gathered in the square. Children continued their games. Blossoms kept falling from the flame trees. Birds paused on the grass to forage. Turtles and fish passed through the river. The wind blew. The rain fell. Another two or three years have passed. Now, in this moment of 2026, has spring truly arrived? The answer feels even less certain. And yet, within the compound, life continues in its quiet repetitions: people walking, practicing, dancing; children playing; blossoms falling; birds searching the grass; turtles and fish moving through the river. The wind blows. The rain falls...