When people mention “China’s Florida,” many immediately think of Tianjin. However, there is another more “wild” city—Wuhan.
It is relaxed, wild, and free, with a city temperament that is no less than that of Tianjin: In Wuhan, traffic lights are like “installation art,” underpasses hide secret codes of the underworld, quarrels come with a triple-speed BGM, and even eating hot dry noodles is performed in various styles. There is no carefully crafted “persona” here; Wuhan people use the phrase “suan niao suan niao” (forget it, forget it) to dissolve the sharpness of life… Meanwhile, this city also connects the secular life with the technological future with driverless cars and “aerial rail.”
Jianghu (rivers and lakes), humor, and relaxation are intertwined. If freedom has a shape, it must be the appearance of Wuhan.
Wuhan is probably the only city that has “Please give way to vehicles” written on the road.
Bus drivers “love drifting,” taxi drivers can change lanes and overtake with one hand, and cyclists can eat hot dry noodles while riding. The moment the green light comes on at the crossroads, drivers will tacitly step on the gas and play a variation of “Fast and Furious” with their horns—two short and one long means “give way,” and three consecutive beeps mean “hurry up.”
No wonder someone joked that driving in Wuhan is like “red light go, green light go, yellow light speed and passion.” When a traffic accident causes a roadblock, Wuhan people often calmly say, “Mao de shi (never mind), anyway, you can still have a bowl of rice noodles when you are stuck in traffic.”
To better remind vehicles and pedestrians, at the beginning of this year, a “carpet-style traffic light” was specially set up at the intersection of Linjiang Avenue and Minzhu Road in Wuhan—laser projection devices were added on the zebra crossing, and the super-large “green light go” and “red light stop” were projected on the ground, complementing the magnificent Yangtze River Bridge and Tortoise Mountain TV Tower in the background, adding a sense of cyberpunk to the already romantic and dreamy riverside scenery.
In addition to the “taking off” road traffic, the “wildness” of this city is hidden in various unexpected details: clothes are hung on clothes racks derived from utility poles, parks have “grown” pants on trees, and cured meat is dried on streetlights… No one understands the wisdom of “making the best use of everything” better than Wuhan residents.
In summer, the Yangtze River becomes Wuhan people’s “swimming pool,” with people of all ages, from the elderly in their sixties to children, floating on the river in their own ways. The riverbank’s stone railing is lined with elderly people preparing to jump, with several onlookers holding up their phones to record. The golden afterglow of the setting sun is reflected on the shimmering water surface, and it also gives a golden halo to those standing in the light, creating a “highlights of ordinary life.”
The city is wild enough, and so are the people of Wuhan.
Last year, the riverside fireworks show returned after a 13-year hiatus, which inspired the unlimited potential of Wuhan people. It doesn’t matter if you can’t get to the front row; Wuhan people can climb overpasses, climb trees, swim in the river, or even paddle in kayaks to “join the fun”…
And despite the large crowds and the variety of behaviors, everything is orderly, even climbing trees is done in an orderly queue.
There was also the recent heavy rain in Wuhan, with Luojia Mountain turning into “Luojia Lake” in an instant, and the main gate of Wuhan University being flooded. The school urgently notified students: “Don’t force your way through the main gate, use other entrances!” As a result, Wuhan students began “creative ways of entering school”: some used bicycles as “water motors,” some floated with lifebuoys, and the most hardcore ones even carried kayaks to class…
It is also because of Wuhan’s “unrestrained” urban characteristics that it can accept the freshest things.
When other cities were still debating the safety of driverless cars, Wuhan had already let “Ape Express” run on the streets of Dongkou for three years. After passengers get in the car, they will find that the AI driver announces in Wuhan dialect: “You jia (you) sit steady, don’t play with your phone!”
Even more cyberpunk is the Optics Valley—China’s first suspended monorail train, like a silver dragon weaving between skyscrapers. At night when the lights are on, the carriages turn into flowing light bands, and passengers seem to be in the set of “Blade Runner,” but when they look down, they can still see the烟火气of night market vendors waving their shovels to stir-fry clams.
Wuhan’s avant-garde lies in its willingness to let any element happen.
Located in Hongshan District of Wuhan, Optics Valley Square has a resounding name—Optics Valley International Space Station. This is Asia’s largest urban underground complex, with a depth of about 34 meters and 11 floors. As soon as you come out of the subway station, you will be stunned speechless by the signs of more than 10 exits.
Among them, the G, H, J, Q, and R exits are classified according to the “traditional Chinese five elements” theme, with yellow, green, blue, red, and brown corresponding to metal, wood, water, fire, and earth, respectively. And from noon to afternoon, the five exits will be successively illuminated by the sun according to the angle of sunlight.
Many people come here specifically to take photos and check in, to collect all the colors of the rainbow.
Underground is the space station, and above ground is even more like a sci-fi blockbuster—especially at night. Looking down at the circular roundabout of Optics Valley Square, it looks like a planetary engine in a movie, with traffic flowing and car lights weaving into colorful lines under the time-lapse lens.
The pedestrian street further enhances the sense of magic. The German-style street’s mechanical gear wall, combined with the colorful neon signs, can make people think for a moment that they are walking on the streets of Tokyo at night. If you go there on a rainy night, congratulations, you can unlock the “hidden filter” of wet and translucent, with vaporwave and futurism colliding.
However, the most magical thing about Wuhan is that even in such a cyberpunk place, you can still encounter the full hustle and bustle, just by turning a corner. An old man holding a balloon sits on the roadside with his legs crossed, and he will pack up only after the last subway train. A street performance band holds guitars and sings Jay Chou’s “Sunny Day,” and passers-by will also join in the chorus at random; a shop has a sign that says, “Happiness is free, double happiness may require a drink…”
With advanced technology and avant-garde lifestyle attitudes.
Moreover, Wuhan’s avant-garde never puts on airs.
The AR navigation on Jianghan Road Pedestrian Street allows tourists to follow the virtual Yellow Crane to the food street. The breakfast robot on Liangdao Street makes pancakes while complaining in dialect: “Mo ji mo ji (don’t squeeze)! If you squeeze more, the flour nest will be more expensive!”
Technology here is not a cold symbol of the future, but an extension of secular life—as Wuhan people evaluate driverless cars: “This advanced thing is still for sleeping five more minutes and having a full breakfast early in the morning.”
As the saying goes, “local conditions and customs shape the people,” and Wuhan’s free and relaxed temperament also gives Wuhan people a unique sense of humor and chivalry.
The “suan niao suan niao” that has gone viral on social media is precisely the Wuhan people’s catchphrase and their philosophy of life: nothing can’t be solved by a “suan niao”—
If you are late for work and scolded by your boss? “Forget it, get up at six tomorrow to catch the bus.”
If the basement is flooded by heavy rain? “Forget it, it’s like getting a free car wash.”
…
Even quarrels follow the “three-minute principle”: two aunts in the market are shouting at each other in Wuhan dialect over fifty cents, and the onlookers have just raised their phones when they suddenly stop: “Forget it, forget it, if we keep arguing, the soup will dry up!” They turn around, hook their arms, and share the secrets of stewing soup.
In addition, Wuhan people also have a unique sense of relaxation. In the early morning of Changdi Street, a white-collar worker in a suit squats on a plastic stool to eat hot dry noodles, and he doesn’t panic even if the sesame sauce drops on his tie: “Ji Mo Si (What’s the rush)? The boss won’t give me a bonus just because my tie is clean.”
At night in Jiqing Street, the boss of a night snack stall and the customers debate for half an hour over whether the duck neck should be spicy or not, and finally end with “Forget it, forget it, I’ll give you two bottles of beer.”
They live a hurried life, but they often hang “suan niao suan niao” (forget it, forget it) on their lips to comfort themselves.
So Wuhan people may be the most self-consistent group in this competitive era.
No matter how big the problem is in front of you, I have to finish the bowl of hot dry noodles in my hand first.
Some people say Wuhan is punk, using the most vigorous secular atmosphere to fight against refinement; others say Wuhan is romantic, the evening breeze by the Yangtze River is always free, and the lotus flowers in East Lake bloom into pink waterfalls year after year.
But perhaps the most charming thing about Wuhan is the wisdom of “turning life into jokes”: using a bowl of hot dry noodles to tame the morning rush hour, using a “suan niao” to dissolve anxiety, and using aerial rail and driverless cars to prove that secular life and the future can coexist.
Wuhan is like Florida, it doesn’t support idlers, freedom is the highest belief, and everyone can relax and be a free “jianghu person.”
But Wuhan is also unique. Next time if someone asks about the temperament of Wuhan, you might as well point to the Yangtze River and say, “Look at this water, it seems chaotic, but it knows what it’s doing in its heart.”