The summer sun blazes, the swelter lingers on

The heatwave affecting XITers has not faded.

Internship, travel, recording, and self-reflection

They move forward in their respective journeys.

Every step they take is steady and confident.

Between captured photos and written moments

Let's go take a look at this holiday!

Their busyness and brilliance

Yao Yue, Class 2301, International Economics and Trade: I Work as a Live Stream Host at Yiwu Industrial College

This summer vacation, I visited Yiwu Industrial College in Zhejiang Province as a live stream host to participate in the Lynk & Co 900 hands-on training program.

Before my first live broadcast, I recorded myself on my phone twenty times practicing my script—paying meticulous attention to every detail: speaking speed, gestures, and smile. But the moment I actually sat before the camera, the lights suddenly flashed on; I felt completely frozen, my palms sweating, my gaze wandering, my tongue stuck in my throat, and even my self-introduction came out in broken fragments. After the broadcast, when I reviewed the footage, I wished I could turn off the screen—so awkward that I gripped the floor with my toes. Yet, the practical training program doesn't wait for you to be ready. One session after another, day after day—I just had to push through.

In the daily routine of live streaming, I no longer shy away from the camera. My verbal expression has become smoother, and I can now respond to the questions in the bullet chats. Every interaction with my audience is full of vivid energy—evolving from initial stiffness to later ease; this transformation was achieved little by little through gradual practice. That sense of surprise at "I actually made it!" is more genuine than any form of praise.

The project is still ongoing. During this holiday break, I want to work with my teammates to complete this project and deliver a satisfactory result.

Ouyang Yi, Class 2405,Law – I'm on an Exchange Visiting Program at the University of Macau

During this holiday, I visited the University of Macau for an  exchange program.

Throughout this academic journey, everything quietly overturned my preconceived notions of the city of Macau.

In one of the university's classrooms, the professor presented a case study and then stopped lecturing. The room fell silent for several seconds—no one spoke. A classmate nearby broke the silence; then, the second and third students followed, their perspectives emerging one after another. After holding back for quite some time, I finally managed to squeeze out a few words that weren't particularly fluent. The professor nodded and said, "An interesting perspective." At that moment, I suddenly realized that expressing oneself does not need to be perfect; simply speaking is already participation.

The impact of the Business Communication course was particularly profound. When the professor discussed cultural differences in cross-border cooperation, he cited numerous real-world cases—where negotiations collapsed, where contracts stalled, and where trust was broken; each case sent a jolt through my heart. Suddenly, I realized that behind many practical issues lie conflicting rules from different jurisdictions. During those few days, I kept wondering: if I were to pursue a career in international law in the future, what areas would I need to strengthen now—whether it be language skills, mindset, or the understanding of another institutional logic?

Only by stepping beyond the classroom do you truly realize that "internationalization" is not merely a slogan posted on the wall—rather, it means students from different backgrounds discussing issues in small groups, hearing diverse languages, and witnessing the collision of different ways of thinking.

After returning, I started looking up materials on international law and searching for legal English courses. This decision was not a momentary impulse; it was something I gradually built up through my experiences in Macau—whether in classrooms, on the streets, or during conversations with others.

I want to say something sincerely to my younger peers: Don't let our school's well-built platforms go to waste. When we head out, bring questions with us; do not just rely solely on our eyes. Dare to speak up, dare to make mistakes, and dare to embrace those moments of discomfort in unfamiliar settings. They are not here to make things hard for us—they are here to help us push our boundaries a little further. Venture into a broader world, and discover that more confident version of ourselves.

Zhu Min, Class 2402,Chinese Language and Literature: I Gained Confidence in a Hotpot Restaurant

The rising steam from the Perilla Frutescens soup and the laughter of diners chatting together are the most familiar scenes in my part-time work each day. The restaurant is always packed with friends and family visiting together; chopsticks dance in the soup, while conversations and laughter blend together, creating a lively atmosphere—this is the most familiar background sound of my summer vacation.

When I first started, I stood by the door, clutching the menu in my hand and opening my mouth several times—yet I couldn't utter a single complete phrase like "Welcome!" A senior staff member looked up at me, smiled and said, "New here? Take it easy." But the more he said this, the more nervous I became. While delivering dishes, my hands trembled so badly that I almost spilled some soup; when a customer asked for recommendations, I stammered for a long time before being able to explain anything clearly.Fortunately,a  senior colleague taught me everything hands-on: she taught me how to identify the base flavors of the dishes, helped me memorize the accompaniments, and walked me through everything—from memorizing the menu and delivering dishes to eventually managing the seating area independently. Although I didn't learn very quickly, practicing a little more every day gradually made my speech more fluent and my movements steadier.

The restaurant is tucked away in an underground commercial district—there's no way to tell whether it's day or night, only a constant stream of pedestrians passing by. After standing there for ten hours, my feet feel sore and swollen. The exhaustion is real, yet every night before sleep, I can feel myself becoming stronger. It's not just my legs and feet—it's also that inner self, which always held back and dared not take a step forward, that is gradually beginning to stretch open.

This summer, I didn't travel far. Instead, I stayed in this little shop filled with the scent of perilla hot pot, where I went from stumbling through the process to completing it smoothly and effortlessly. There wasn't anything earth-shattering about it, but I knew that I've grown capable of taking on responsibilities.

Peng Yongkang, Class 2403,Software Engineering: I Head North All the Way, Selling Books While Traveling

During this holiday, I set off northward from Zhuzhou to Beijing, with a one-month journey. I have allocated 2,000 yuan as contingency funds and will sell my original book “Five and a Half Years of Life” along the way, using the proceeds from these sales to subsidize my travel expenses. Traveling alone, I will take trains, high-speed rail, and buses, staying at hostels, moving from place to place at various stops.

For a college student with cerebral palsy, making such a long journey alone takes more than physical strength — it takes perseverance. My legs ache after walking too long, and when I'm in a hurry to catch a ride, my steps may stumble. But I've never thought about stopping. Every day, I cut the road I've traveled into Vlogs and post them on Bilibili. The footage is shaky and the editing rough, but every time I hit upload, I feel a deep sense of fulfillment.

In Shaoxing, Zhejiang, I visited Lu Xun Native Place and saw the Hundred-Grass Garden and the Three-Taste School. Standing before a desk engraved with the character "zao"(early), it feels as though I can see the young Lu Xun. On an ebony-plank boat, the boatman rowed with his feet; white walls and black tiles swept past on either side, while stone bridges one after another passed overhead. The boatman hummed a few lines of Yue Opera—his voice was hoarse yet melodious. At Shen Garden, Lu You and Tang Wan's poem "Phoenix Hairpin" is still carved onto the wall; more than eight hundred years have passed—lotuses have bloomed and faded, yet only these two poems continue to guard this lingering sorrow for them. Before this trip, I thought Jiangnan was centered around Hangzhou; only upon arrival did I realize that the most authentic essence of Jiangnan lies hidden in Shaoxing.

Now I am in Huangshan, Anhui. I happened to catch a lantern festival; when a giant fish-shaped lantern emerged from the alley entrance, I stood frozen in place. It wasn't a traditional lantern—it was a luminous fish swimming at night, swaying gently, as if it were alive. The crowd was buzzing with excitement, and I held my mobile phone to record for a long time; this was my first time witnessing it firsthand, and it left me utterly awestruck.

Throughout this journey, all I've had is a phone, a backpack, and two legs that don't always obey. Slow as I am, every step I take is steady. If you're also hesitating about whether to set out — then just go. It doesn't matter if you walk slowly; what matters is that you arrive.

Cao Chenxi,Class 2401,Advertising: I Take a Boat Ride and Cycle at Night by the West Lake in Hangzhou

I've always longed for Jiangnan. I'd been reading about Hangzhou in my textbooks for over a decade, and this summer vacation, I finally set off for it.

Only when standing by West Lake did I realize that none of the poetic verses could compare to a gentle evening breeze. On the afternoon before the typhoon arrived, the sky was low and clouded, yet the wind was tender. I boarded a hand-cranked boat, watching the fish swim and the clouds drift; time seemed to stand still. There was nothing to think about—just sitting there, letting the wind blow through me while lost in thought. After nightfall, I rode my bike around the lake with friends for over an hour, as the cool evening breeze brushed against my face. The streetlights stretched our shadows long, and the sounds of wind, laughter, and spinning wheels blended together. As we passed Broken Bridge, I glimpsed the lights of Baoshi Mountain scattered like shattered stars across the water. Stepping onto the soil and smelling the scent of fresh grass, scenes felt as vivid as yesterday. It turns out that utopia is not a fiction—it simply awaits your arrival, where you can step into the mud and take a breath of the wind.

This journey through Hangzhou offered both the romance of West Lake and the freedom of night cycling.Yet, what is most precious about traveling at twenty is never the scenery you see—it is simply that you have actually set off. Courage isn't about being fully prepared before you begin; it's about hitting the road even when your heart isn't quite sure.

Zhou Jiayu, Class 2407, Chinese Language and Literature: I'm in the Suzhou Classical Gardens, Where Every Step Unfolds a New Painting

When I first read Mr.Ye Shengtao's essay "The Suzhou Gardens" in middle school, I was captivated by the line: "Stand anywhere, and you will find yourself before a perfect picture"; this time, I finally set off for this ancient city that I had long heard about.

Stepping into the Lingering Garden felt like walking straight into the pages of that essay—flower-patterned windows frame the light of an entire afternoon, shadows stretch slowly along the corridors, and at every turn, a new painting unfolds before your eyes. When I arrived at Huqiu Mountain, scenes from “The Journey to the West”—which I had watched over and over as a child—suddenly surged back from memory, stirring an inexplicable sense of emotion. The Saiyuan Temple is exceptionally quiet—so quiet that even the sound of wind rustling through bamboo leaves can be heard clearly;

I sat down for a bowl of plain vegetarian noodles, took my time finishing it, and then wandered on. Yet most of the time, I simply followed the canals, walking until I grew tired, then resting on the stone balustrades of a bridge, watching rowboats drift lazily past. The city is woven with crisscrossing alleys, where whitewashed walls meet flowing water and figures move slowly through the lanes—time itself seemed to slow its pace here.

When I was reading the textbook before, I assumed that "the perfect picture" referred to the scenery. Only after arriving did I gradually come to realize that the most beautiful picture is not meant for mere viewing, but for stepping inside.

Different choices, the same devotion

This holiday

There are also many other XITers.

Turn their journeys across the map into unique memories.

They follow their own rhythm.

Transforming an ordinary break into a continuous process.