The spring of Zhaosu is a love letter from the Creator to the earth.

When the first spring breeze sweeps through Zhaosu, deep within the folds of the Tianshan Mountains, the rustling sound of melting ice and snow awakens the sleeping valley. Snowmelt meanders down the folds of thousand-year-old rock faces, refracting diamond-like shards of light on the quartzite, like the first teardrop shed at the beginning of creation. A mysterious costume change is taking place on the alpine meadows at an altitude of 2,500 meters. The morning mist, still an ink-wash silk, is instantly transformed into flowing emerald satin by the sunlight. Primroses, snowdrops, and wild tulips bloom one after another. When the hooves of herders' horses tread across the streams, the splashing water droplets seem to hold fragments of rainbows. Wisps of smoke rise from the white yurts of the Kazakh herders, intertwining with the mist at the tips of the spruce trees. Sheep graze on dew-kissed new grass, the clear ringing of the bronze bells around their necks startling snow finches from the crevices in the rocks. Old herders, squinting at the distant mountains, have smiles in their wrinkles that are more serene than the rhythm of melting snow—they can read the signs of spring hidden in the rings of the spruce trees and see the yearning for upward growth in every plant. As dusk paints the snow-capped peaks rose gold, the mountain streams begin to chant spring's epic poem in seven tones. The faint fragrance of wild apple blossoms drifts through the valley, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked baursaks, brewing into intoxicating kumis as the crescent moon rises. In such a spring, even time is willing to lose its way. The spring of Zhaosu is a love letter from the Creator to the earth, and you are the reader of this poem. Pack your bags, let the mountain breeze kiss your hair, let the clouds fall into your eyes, and embark on a date with the mountains and rivers, breathing together~🌅✨