冬季恋歌

惠英红为什么愿意来喝一碗四果汤？_我的网站

一 |     8月19日下午4点多，滨江西兴街道固陵路 64 号的西兴菜市场照常热闹。“萱萱冰爽屋”摊位前排起小队，66岁的演员惠英红一身风衣，端着一碗闽南风味的四果汤，跟刚拍完婚纱照的小两口有说有笑。    

    Visitors at the Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea scenic area in Yantai, Shandong Province Photo: VCG
I first watched the movie All Wishes Come True on a sweltering evening in Beijing, the kind of night when the city's heat presses against the windows and the air-conditioning struggles. 
The comedy, widely considered one of the best-reviewed Chinese animated features of the 2026 summer season, unspooled its turquoise landscapes and bureaucratic immortals with a lightness that belied the depth of its source material. By the time the credits rolled, I found myself less interested in the characters' KPI struggles than in the place they called home: Penglai - the northern tip of the Shandong Peninsula in East China, where myth and shoreline have shared the same address for more than 1,000 years.
By one Saturday morning, I was on a high-speed train heading east from Beijing, the film still playing in my head. "Don't ask where they came from," the movie's quiet refrain goes, "only where they are going; don't ask about gains or losses, only about right or wrong." It felt like decent travel advice.
    A colorful 3D relief depicts the classic Chinese mythological legend 'The Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea' at the Penglai Pavilion scenic area Photo: Xu Liuliu/GT
Fairyland of the mortal world
Stepping off the train, Penglai announced itself gradually. The air cooled. The sea appeared, first with shimmering light, then as a broad, restless presence. The average temperature here sits at around 12.5 degrees Celsius for the whole year; winters refuse to freeze the spirit, summers decline to scorch it. Locals call the place "the fairyland of the mortal world," and for once the slogan does not feel like municipal overreach.
I began, as most pilgrims do, at Penglai Pavilion. The Song-dynasty (960-1279) complex rises from a cliff as if the rock itself had decided to become architecture. It is the only seaside member of China's four great ancient towers, and the only one that smells of salt. From its highest platform the Yellow and Bohai Seas meet in a visible seam of color, two blues arguing politely about territory. Legend insists the Eight Immortals gathered here, drank too well, and then crossed the water by their various supernatural means. Standing in the same spot, I could almost hear the clink of chalices.
The pavilion is not a museum of relics so much as a working stage for memory. The hall of Lü Dongbin, one of the Eight Immortals, still receives incense. Stone tablets carved with poems by generations of visitors lean against one another like old friends. In the afternoons, costumed performers - local "NPCs" of the Eight Immortals - wander the stone paths, joking with tourists, offering blessings, occasionally breaking into song. Children chase a character carrying a flower basket; adults pose solemnly beside Tieguai Li. The boundary between screen and shore softens.
One of the locals, who grew up within sight of the pavilion, told me this was the season for haishi - the mirages that have made Penglai famous for centuries. Sea mirages, sea mists, and horizontal fog form the three maritime wonders here, appearing without schedule and vanishing just as quickly. I waited an hour and alas saw only ordinary clouds. Still, the sense of possibility felt sufficiently satisfying. 
Across the water lies the Eight Immortals Cross the Sea scenic area, laid out in the shape of a giant gourd - Tieguai Li's preferred vessel. From the highest pavilion the gardens, pavilions, and sculpted figures form a coherent narrative of ascent and departure. Wandering in the area, you will see that the water is calm, the sky the exact shade of celadon used by the animators. It was easy to understand why story-tellers kept returning to this stretch of coast: the landscape itself seems to invite transformation.
Penglai is not only myth. The old water city, China's best-preserved ancient naval base, still holds the outlines of docks where warships once waited. Nearby stand the memorials to Qi Jiguang, the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) general who defended these shores against Japanese pirates. 
The same peninsula that dreams of immortals also remembers the hard work of keeping the sea lanes open. The film's protagonists, for all their comic incompetence, share a stubborn sense of duty toward the human world. Standing among the fortifications, I felt the two strains of the place - celestial and martial - settle into balance.
    The iconic memorial archway 'Penglai on Earth' at the Penglai Pavilion Scenic Area in Yantai, Shandong Province Photo: Xu Liuliu/GT
Banquet from sea
Food here is another kind of story-telling. At a small restaurant in the city I ordered Penglai noodles, thin and springy, swimming in a broth that tasted of the morning's catch. Later came an "Eight Immortals banquet," each dish inspired by one of the legendary figures: a crisp fish for the crossing, a fragrant wine for the celebration afterward. The wines themselves deserve attention. Penglai sits on the same latitude as some of the world's great vineyards. 
In the late afternoon light, the grapes looked almost black, and the air smelled of sea and oak. A glass of local wine, tasted on a terrace overlooking the water, carried a mineral edge that felt like the peninsula distilled.
Evenings belong to the streets. On Xianjie or Immortal Street, lights come on early. Vendors sell souvenirs of the Eight Immortals' magic instruments, small wooden crutches, fans, flower baskets. Musicians play, children run between stalls, and the smell of grilled seafood mixes with the cooler night air. It is ordinary Chinese night-market life, elevated by the knowledge that the stories being sold have been circulating for a millennium.
I spent my last morning climbing Laobeishan or Tianheng Mountain to the precise point where the two seas divide. The water on one side was a deeper yellow, on the other a clearer blue. Tourists took photographs, capturing the magical sight of the water's two different colors. 
Penglai is much more than what is portrayed in the movie. The cliffs, the pavilion, the mirages, and the slow accumulation of legend were here long before any animator arrived. Yet the film has done what good popular art sometimes does: it has given a new generation a reason to look again. Walking back down the mountain that morning, I kept thinking of the line about not asking about origins, only about destinations. 
Penglai's destiny, it seems, is simply to remain itself - half myth, half working harbor - while the rest of us keep arriving, notebooks open, cameras ready, half expecting to see haishi.
。这个画面被网友拍下后迅速传开，评论区点赞数最多的一条是“端四果汤的影后，比红毯上的好看”。

二 | 这家店是福建漳州老板开的，摊位上薏米、红豆、芋圆、仙草、石花膏一字排开二十多种小料，自己挑料自己挑汤底。老板回忆称，惠英红请身边顾客帮忙推荐口味，尝了一口竖大拇指说“好吃”，又主动给新婚夫妇送上祝福和拥抱。一家菜市能吸引著名演员排队，这件事本身就说明杭州菜市已经成了年轻人和游客愿意专程跑一趟的地方。

三 | 杭州菜市的这种走红并非孤例。

四 | 今年3月26日，央视CCTV-1《三餐四季》第三季、综艺《风华合伙人》先后把镜头对准西湖区的文二菜市，演员严屹宽与主持人王嘉宁钻进摊位间寻找美食。

五 | 这家由明星设计师沈雷操刀改造的菜市，至今累计接待748万人次、日均客流超1万人次。在东山弄菜场，棉与鸢尾书店被塞进菜市的摊位之间，《一株荷的旅程》展览、读书会、花艺课轮番开展；在余杭农贸市场二楼，开出了一家免费的月老办事处，登记、相亲、办活动都在这里；即将于11月亮相的江枫渔市官宣将在二楼设沿江现捕江鲜区，三楼四楼做特色餐饮和文创展览，此外还将为外围机动车提供首小时免费停的优惠。杭州菜市走红的背后，是菜市作为经济流通枢纽与民生保障基石的双重重塑。它一头连着田间地头、江河湖海，一头连着千家万户、烟火人间，通过连接生产与消费、稳定物价、促进就业、传承文化等多重功能，深刻影响着百姓的生活质量与城市的可持续运行。

六 | 这种升级，是民本情怀、海纳格局、进步眼光、市场主体共同发力的结果，折射出杭州“有为政府、有效市场”相结合的治理智慧。冬暖夏凉、整洁光亮早已成为杭州众多菜市的标配，更多菜市开始根据自身所处场景加入更多的文化元素。在西溪菜市，一楼成为众多主理人的主场，包括米其林餐厅在内的诸多餐饮店把生意做得火热；菜场则放在菜市的二楼，入口嵌一座转角博物馆，各种西溪湿地的生活、生物与物质记忆都被摆放进一个又一个藏在转角的玻璃柜里。除此之外，商场那套抽奖、返利促销、定时活动也被搬进西溪菜市，消费者通过手机或者菜市内的展示屏就能获取当日优惠信息。管理是藏在最不起眼角落的那一笔。在西溪菜市采访的三天里，记者发现这里的保洁时常在拖地，菜市里孩子们在干净凉爽的地砖上席地而坐，晚饭后居民们相约在菜市闲逛聊天，这里不仅是菜市，更是社区生活的延伸。归根结底，菜市是一门民生工程。不少杭州菜市坚持多年不涨租金，西溪菜市和文二菜市同属西湖城投下面的二级子公司，文二菜市 100 多家商户、日均营业额20万到30万元，两年没动过租金。

七 | 商户稳得住，老百姓的菜篮子才稳得住；菜篮子稳得住，城市的烟火气才能旺起来。城市的高度，不仅在于地标建筑和科技实力，还在于烟火菜市和小巷人家。

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Published on:02:03:30