Wuben Village is located in Juzhen Town, Midu County, Dali Bai Autonomous Prefecture, Yunnan Province, China. Originally named 'Awubai', it means 'place with many tadpoles' in the Yi language. Due to its unique geographical location, the village is often shrouded in clouds and mist, with lush vegetation, making it appear and disappear, hence the name 'Wuben Village' (Mist Village). Wuben Village is renowned for its beautiful natural scenery and rich ecological resources, and is hailed as a 'Peach Blossom Spring'.
'Suddenly encountering a peach blossom forest, stretching for hundreds of steps along the banks, with no other trees, fragrant grass, and falling blossoms.' Over the past two decades, the villagers of Wuben have planted nearly a thousand acres of winter peaches on the surrounding hillsides. Every year when the peach blossoms bloom, the nearly thousand acres of peach trees burst into bloom, turning the village into a 'Peach Blossom Spring', attracting tourists in droves.
Before entering Wuben Village, we stood by a clear pond called 'Peach Blossom Pool' and gazed at the entire village surrounded by peach trees in the distance. If you visit in spring, standing here you can take in the entire hillside covered in peach blossoms—what a stirring sight it would be! Beside the pond, a narrow cement road leads to the secluded village, lined with tall, lush jacaranda trees. Villagers returning home along this picturesque path truly make outsiders envious.
'Level land, well-arranged houses, with fertile fields, beautiful ponds, mulberry and bamboo. Paths crisscross, and the sounds of chickens and dogs are heard. Men and women come and go, planting and harvesting, dressed like outsiders. The elderly and children are all content and happy.' Here, lines from Tao Yuanming's famous essay 'The Peach Blossom Spring' are brought to life. We arrived in this secluded village, like a peach blossom paradise, in autumn, missing the pink bloom season. The peach orchard no longer had blossoms, only branches laden with peaches hidden under dense leaves. It was the Mid-Autumn Festival, and the villagers were leisurely preparing for the evening's sumptuous reunion dinner.
Walking through this small village of only about thirty households, a faint fruity scent wafted from the roadside orchards, as if entering a fairyland. A light rain moistened the entire mountain, washing away the dust from all living things. The roses in front of the houses became more delicate after the autumn rain, as if waiting for the once-a-year bright moon at night. Perhaps the moon and the roses had a secret rendezvous, and the autumn rain, overhearing, came to help them freshen up.
While brewing tea in a pavilion behind the village, we saw villagers returning from afar for the Mid-Autumn Festival, loading bags of lucky peaches into their cars. We caught a glimpse of the large, red, tempting peaches and asked where we could pick some. One of them told us to drive along a gravel road until we saw a white house, where there were still ripe peaches. Following the direction, we indeed saw a two-story white building standing alone in the peach orchard, like a lighthouse on an island.
The hostess, having been informed in advance, was waiting at the door. She led us into the orchard beside the house, full of ripe lucky peaches, and told us to pick only the red ones. She said the village is most beautiful in March when the peach blossoms bloom, and on March 8th, many tourists come to enjoy the flowers. She also mentioned that different peach varieties have different blossoms, and the ones we were picking had the most beautiful flowers. After hearing her description, we began to long for next March.
The plump, juicy peaches hung firmly on the branches, their sweet fragrance seemingly bursting through the skin, truly tempting. We quickly filled a bucket. If not for our limited funds, we could have stayed for hours, even happily working for free.
On the road, we met two villagers who had found mushrooms in the mountains behind the village, adding a delicacy to the evening reunion dinner.
While we were picking peaches, the host was shaking bee pupae out of a hive to fry them—a local delicacy that we dared not try.
Outside, a wood fire was burning brightly, and the host had prepared all the ingredients. One could imagine how sumptuous the dinner would be. As daylight faded into dusk and darkness gradually took over the quiet peach orchard valley, the family would sit under the eaves, listening to the chirping of crickets from all around. As the cool night air slowly rose, the once-a-year bright moon would soothe everyone's hearts.
