Finally Arrived at Qiongkushitai

Waited for so many years, we finally arrived at Qiongkushitai. In 2019, we secretly opened our first guesthouse in Zhoushan. We thought we would spend our whole lives gazing at the sea, until one day, a guest showed me their phone after dinner: "Look, I volunteered on the grasslands in Xinjiang." She swiped through the photos—alpine meadows beneath snow-capped mountains, like spilled green paint. I grabbed her phone and exclaimed, "Wow! Where is this?!" She recommended the guesthouse owner's WeChat to me, and from then on, my favorite thing became checking the owner's WeChat Moments. Later, I kept pestering my husband: "How about opening a guesthouse in Qiongkushitai?" But we were temporarily talked out of it. Still, the idea lingered in my mind. Then the pandemic hit. We got married, had a baby, and our lives revolved around diapers and formula. Yet Qiongkushitai was like a hook, pulling at me, and the thought of opening a guesthouse on the grasslands kept popping up. I wanted to be a free bird, a horse running wild, or anything that could live permanently on the grasslands. I wanted to see the mountains, lakes, snow-capped peaks, and grasslands. When our baby turned three months old, my husband suddenly said, "Let’s go. How about we open a guesthouse on the grasslands?" Without hesitation, I agreed. When we told my parents, they hesitated for a moment but ultimately supported us. And so, we drove 4,000 kilometers from Jiangsu to Qiongkushitai in Ili, Xinjiang. This March, standing in Qiongkushitai, the grass was still as vividly green as in her photos. Sadly, the girl who shared those photos became part of the mountain breeze last spring. Now, our guesthouse "An·Jing" has lit its lamps, with eight windows facing the grasslands she loved. "An·Jing" was costly to build because we stubbornly wanted to give you the best. Every piece of wood, every item, carries our heartfelt effort. When we decided to settle here, we committed to doing it to the best of our ability. Sunlight pours down, grass waves roll, swings sway, and camping awaits. We don’t seek fame or fortune. What we want to create isn’t a business—it’s a home. We hope every guest who walks through our door finds that long-lost sense of relaxation and belonging. We’ve made many friends here and hope this place inspires you to want to "come back and stay again." We’re here, in the valley of Qiongkushitai, at An·Jing Guesthouse, waiting for you.