Pingtan Island Roaming Diary: Living Life in Slow Motion with the Sea Breeze

In late October, the sunshine in Pingtan is more intense than expected—just after landing in the county town in the morning, dragging my luggage along the street, the salty and humid sea breeze wrapped in warmth rushed over me. After a short walk, I was dazzled by the sun. So I leisurely strolled around the county town, watching steam rise from the breakfast stalls’ steamers, the aroma of oyster pancakes drifting out from the metal stove, and stopped by a convenience store to buy an iced coconut juice, which finally subdued the afternoon heat. When the sun tilted slightly, I rented a pink-and-white electric scooter and headed south. Without checking any guides, I just followed the coastal road. As the wind brushed past my ears, even my hair fluttered. I stopped at an unnamed small bay; there were few people on the beach, only a few small fishing boats moored by the shore. Squatting on the rocks waiting for the sunset, I watched the sun slowly sink, quickly raised my phone to capture the moment, even the shadows were bathed in warm light. At that moment, I felt all the waiting was worth it. The next morning, I got up early and headed straight to the much-anticipated 68 Nautical Miles Scenic Area. Walking on the rocks to the iconic stone tablet, the words "The closest point from Mainland China to Taiwan Island" were especially clear. Standing on the fully transparent viewing platform, gazing out, the distant sea horizon formed a straight line, and the cool sea breeze blew by. Suddenly, I understood the meaning of this "close yet far" sight. In the afternoon, I made a special trip to Changjiang’ao to see the wind turbines. Unfortunately, I was delayed on the way, and by the time I arrived, the sun was already hiding behind the clouds. But missing the sunset didn’t matter—the rows of white wind turbines were spinning under the blue sky, their huge blades reflecting the evening light, like giants guarding the sea. Walking along the trail, listening to the "whooshing" sound of the turbines, even the regret softened, and I thought to myself: there’s always tomorrow. Tomorrow, I plan to go to Beigang Village and Guocai Village beaches to collect shells. I’ve already checked the low tide time and imagine stepping on the soft sand, bending down to pick up those small shells marked by the sea, and maybe even encountering little crabs hiding in the sand. Life in Pingtan seems to be just like this—no need to rush the itinerary, no need to squeeze into crowded spots, just follow the rhythm of the sea breeze, and it feels very comfortable.