Three Days in Yiwu: Poplars and Fireworks Collide in Full Embrace

The moment you drive into Yiwu, the Gobi suddenly splits open with a green seam — the Yiwu River, like a green ribbon, gently wraps the county town in the valley. On the first day, head straight to Huan Cai Lake. This lake really knows how to "change faces." In the morning, it’s crystal clear blue; by afternoon, the wind stirs up a pink hue. Local herders say you can tell the weather by the lake’s color, even more accurately than the forecast. Squatting there until sunset brings even more surprises: the evening glow splashes across the lake, green tinged with red like a spilled eyeshadow palette, and a white dress photographed there comes with its own soft light filter. In the evening, diving into the farmers' market is where you find the real flavor. At the entrance, a Uyghur uncle’s steaming lamb head stall sells for 48 yuan each, split open and full of meat, paired with 8 yuan lamb trotters that are a delight to gnaw on. Around the corner, Zuremu’s naan stall smells so tempting it hooks your feet; the scallion naan just out of the oven is snatched up quickly. Her twin sons swing wooden mallets to pound the naan while her daughter chases butterflies nearby. We picked a Sichuan restaurant for a shared table at a street food stall; the spicy, crispy skin was refreshing, and Wusu beer popped open with teeth. The smoky atmosphere mixed with the naan aroma soaked into our clothes. The second day was spent soaking in the poplar forest. The 470,000-acre sea of trees is breathtaking; 9,000-year-old dead trunks twist into all kinds of shapes, looking like alien sculptures. Standing in a red dress under the "Couple Poplars," the wind rustles dry leaves, and you almost hear the sound of time. The scenic area has no signal, which is just right for peace. Following herders, we rode camels through the forest, the sound of hooves on gravel especially clear. At noon, we ate roasted buns in Naomao Lake Town; the moment you bite into the crispy crust, the lamb juice is so hot it makes you stomp your feet, perfectly balanced by kvass to cut the grease. Finally, we went to Yishui Garden to listen to red stories. In front of the military horse sculpture, the guide said it once carried ammunition through a sea of fire, which made everyone’s noses sting. At dusk, sitting by the river, we saw plum trees hanging dark blue fruits and crabapples glowing bright red. A passing uncle handed us an old man melon, sweet and glutinous without needing to bite hard. When leaving, our clothes still carried the scent of fireworks. In the rearview mirror, the poplars faded away, and suddenly we understood the charm of this place: it holds the spirit of a thousand years and hides the warmest humanity.