24/05/2025
It was 4 a.m. when we stood at the base of Xiang Gong Shan. The world was silent, wrapped in darkness. Most people were still asleep—but not us. We were chasing something more than just a view. We were chasing a moment, a memory, a spark of light to remind us why we keep moving forward.
The climb began. Step after step, through the shadows, we followed the rhythm of determination. Our legs burned, hearts pounded, but no one complained. The mountain tested us, and we answered with quiet strength. We weren’t alone—others climbed with us, strangers united by a shared dream.
When we reached the top, we were greeted not by peace, but by a crowd. The best spots were already taken. Cameras were lined like soldiers, drones ready to take flight. It was chaotic, loud, even frustrating. But we had made it. And we still had hope.
We waited in the cold. Minutes felt like hours. The sky slowly changed—black softened into deep blue, then hints of pink. The mountain began to breathe.
Then, the light broke through.
The sun rose, slowly, powerfully. A golden beam spilled across the peaks like a blessing. The mist curled between the mountains, glowing with magic. People gasped, some with tears in their eyes. Others fell silent, overcome by the beauty. In that moment, we weren’t just watching the sunrise—we were witnessing a promise.
A promise that after every dark climb, light will come.
I stood there, no longer thinking about the crowd or the pain in my legs. Just grateful. Grateful to be alive. Grateful to be reminded that every new day is a chance to begin again.
And that sometimes, the most beautiful things in life… are the ones you wake up early and fight to see.
