When I heard the Spring Festival holiday had been extended by another week, I immediately started thinking about where to go.

Music has a way of steering a person’s mood. At the time, my headphones were playing 66°34′ North Latitude by Frosty Eve. Another name for 66°34′ north, of course, is the Arctic Circle. That was enough to set off a whole chain of very cool images in my head. Then the next track came on: Frozen Moon.

So I opened a map and started searching. Between Heilongjiang and Xinjiang, which one is closer to the northernmost edge of China? The answer was Mohe, in Heilongjiang.

That didn’t feel surprising. Quite a few places in Heilongjiang are named after rivers; Suifenhe, which I visited before, is one example, and it also sits on the China–Russia border. From there I started looking up Mohe itself.

Most of what came back, though, was not travel information but another song: Mohe Ballroom, a deeply emotional one.

I had heard of it before, but never paid much attention. In recent years I’ve rarely bothered with new songs that have lyrics. Still, curiosity got the better of me, and eventually I learned the story behind it.

In 2019, a newly opened ballroom appeared in Mohe. For a city with so few people, that was unusual enough; it had apparently gone decades without one. After it opened, an elderly man was often seen dancing there alone. In time, people learned why. His wife had died in the Great Khingan Range wildfire of 1987, and he danced there by himself to remember her, because she had loved dancing.

I quietly filed that story away in my mind.

About eight years ago, I had been to the Greater Khingan Range once, trying to push deeper into the primeval forest. On the forest floor, fallen leaves lay in layers. Every new layer buried the old top layer beneath it, and what got buried began to rot. Rotten leaves make excellent fuel. I had already heard about that devastating fire years before, so the story hit me in a different way.

In truth, whether it’s 66°34′ North Latitude or Mohe Ballroom, both are love stories in their own way, and both are moving.

I do enjoy being single. There is a kind of freedom in it that suits me well. But I also know very clearly that my life is not complete. Ending up in a relationship is easy enough; what is rare is a love that cuts deep and stays with you.

There is a myth that says when the gods created humanity, they split every soul apart. That is why no one in this world is whole anymore. People only become whole again if they find the bond that belongs to their soul.

If a love like that is so hard to come by, then I might as well go to the northernmost point of China and borrow a little luck from the journey.

And if I somehow happen to see that old man dancing alone, I won’t disturb him. His memories belong to him alone.

The route

I’ll first arrive in Harbin on either the 23rd or the 24th.

I plan to spend some time wandering around the city proper, and if time allows, I’ll also head over to Jiangbei.

At that time of year, of course, Jiangbei is basically an empty city.

Then on the night of the 24th or 25th, I’ll board the train to Mohe. After a night and then a rough morning on the train, I should reach Mohe around noon on the 25th or 26th.

From there, I’ll head toward Beihong Village, stopping along the way to take in the winter landscape.

To be fair, as someone from the north, snow scenes don’t exactly feel novel to me anymore.

After spending a night in Beihong Village, I’ll continue on to Arctic Village, already right up against the China–Russia border.

I once tried stepping a foot past the border line in Suifenhe. I intend to try again here.

On the third day, I’ll go to the memorial museum for the great forest fire.

If I can, I’d like to leave a flower there on behalf of that old man.

Fresh flowers may be hard to find in a place like this. I almost wrote that I’d light a candle instead, but at a wildfire memorial museum, that would be a terrible idea.

By the evening of the third day, I’ll take the train and leave.

That should still get me back home before Lunar New Year’s Eve.

Which means my teacher’s father, old Mr. Li, won’t find out about this little adventure of mine.

Perfect.

Hehehe.