Dalian is always the most romantic in winter.

In winter, Dalian always leaves the clearest wind for Silver Beach. The sea and sky have shed the hustle and bustle of summer, and the waves crash against the shore with a chill, shattering into tiny pieces of ice on the rocks. Seagulls skim over the gray-blue water, shaking off a few grains of salty salt crystals from their wingtips, which are then kneaded into the salty mist by the north wind. The morning beach is covered with frost, like a layer of glass sugar frosting on a caramel pudding. On the mudflats after the tide has receded, shells and ice crystals overlap to form transparent patterns, and each footprint becomes a crystal amber. The whistle of a fishing boat in the distance is frozen into intermittent threads, drawing the eyes of tourists to the horizon, where a few islands blurred by snow and fog float. The midday sun slants across the sea, turning the frozen foam into a thousand tiny diamonds. The rocks are covered with snow, like a group of stranded ice whales, with crystal ice ridges hanging between their scales. Occasionally, a winter swimmer jumps into the sea, stirring up a pool of silver and stirring up the frozen time.