Panlong Ancient Road: A Journey of Loss, Rediscovery, and Rebirth

Over the years, I’ve always traveled alone. Once a year, no matter how busy work gets or how chaotic life becomes, I insist on setting out by myself. It’s not because I enjoy solitude, but because I know that only when I’m alone on the road can I truly connect with myself and make peace with the past. This time, I chose Xinjiang for my journey. Not for the popular tourist spots, not for the photo ops, but for the Panlong Ancient Road—a winding path that mirrors the twists and turns of life itself. Starting from Taiwan, I transited through Shanghai to Kashgar, then headed westward into the Pamir Plateau, passing through Tashkurgan, White Sand Lake, and Karakul Lake. My final destination, however, was the true purpose of this trip: the Panlong Ancient Road. Why do I always travel alone? Because I don’t want to leave any regrets. Since 2020, we’ve witnessed too much impermanence in life. A pandemic widened the distance between people in an instant. Some left us suddenly, and some words were left forever unsaid. The person closest to me, the one I loved most, quietly departed during that chaotic time. No goodbyes, no hugs, not even one last proper look at her. She was so young, yet she never got the chance to see the world. For a long time, I couldn’t pull myself out of the sorrow. One day, I decided to pack my bags and set off on a journey—to see, with my own eyes, the sights she never had the chance to witness. I told myself: as long as I’m still here, I won’t let life be filled with regrets. Even if I’m alone, even if the road is long, I’ll keep walking. Panlong Ancient Road: A Winding Path That Reflects My Life On the return journey, the car ascended a highland road. The driver said, "This is the Panlong Ancient Road, the section leading to Tageman. It’s not a place tour groups visit, but you’ve come to the right place." Outside the window were rolling clouds, steep mountains, and bottomless valleys. As the car spiraled upward, I felt as though I was walking through the past few years of my life. Each bend was like a question I once couldn’t answer; each turn, a loss, a breakdown, a moment of despair. I had asked myself more than once, "How much longer can I endure days like this?" But today, as I walked this winding road, I neither turned back nor stopped. I just kept going, round and round, until I saw the light. At the Mountain’s Peak, I Saw the World’s Beauty for Her When the car reached the viewing platform, I got out. The wind was so strong it could almost knock a person over. Standing at the edge of the cliff, I looked back at the Panlong Ancient Road. It lay like a giant dragon sprawled across the chest of the Pamir Plateau, winding and coiling, with no straight sections and no easy paths. But it was precisely because of this that it was so magnificent, so real. My eyes welled up as I softly said to the distance, "I saw it for you. It’s truly beautiful." She can no longer see it, but I’m still here. As long as I can keep walking, I’ll see the desert sunsets, the plateau clouds, the reflections of snow-capped mountains, and the bends of the Panlong Ancient Road for her. I no longer travel for myself, but to see for her, to walk for love. The stone tablet on the viewing platform read: "Having walked all the winding roads today, may the rest of life be smooth." I finally understood. This wasn’t a promise, but a blessing; not an end, but a beginning. Life is never smooth sailing, but we can choose to keep going—no matter how hard, no matter how lonely. I’m not afraid of winding roads because I know that behind every bend, there’s always a view waiting for me. Just like at the end of this journey, when I thought I was utterly exhausted, the Panlong Ancient Road gave me its deepest embrace. It didn’t speak, but it understood me. This journey was a pilgrimage for myself and a tribute to her. This year, I walked another long road alone. Some say I’m brave; others say I’m lonely. But only I know, I’m not alone. Behind me is her shadow; in my eyes are the sights she never saw; in my heart are the memories she left behind. Travel is not an escape but a form of remembrance, a way to keep moving forward. I will keep walking, seeing all the sights worth seeing in this world—for her and for myself, to live more fully. If there’s a heaven, it must look like the snow-capped mountains of Pamir. And I’m willing to walk step by step along the Panlong Ancient Road, toward the light in my heart.