At Tricolor Cloud River, the clouds are neighbors who greet you.

🌄 I was awakened in the early morning by a rustling sound on the balcony. I pushed open the glass door, and the clouds of Lugu Lake were perched on the railing, peeking at me as I combed my hair 👀. They were as white as freshly steamed vapor, with soft edges dotted with morning dew from Mount Gemu. A gentle breath made my hair feel damp—it turns out that at Tricolor Cloud River, the clouds aren't just scenery; they're playful neighbors who drop by for a visit ☁️! 🍜 As I went downstairs, I ran into the housekeeper, who was placing a rice noodle set on the dining table. The broth in the bone china bowl was bubbling, topped with mint leaves and a fried egg freshly made by Sister Mosuo. She tapped the edge of the table: "Eat it while it's hot. The broth is made with morning mist, so fresh it can hook the clouds down ✨!" I slurped a mouthful of rice noodles, the chili oil making my nose sweat. I looked up and saw her squatting in the corner, watering the flowerpots. The sunlight shone through the silver ornaments in her hair, scattering tiny stars on the ground, as if she had crushed the clouds and put them on her head ☁️. 📸 The best part of the afternoon is the "Sky Mirror" on the top floor. I took off my shoes and stepped on it, and the cloud shadows immediately covered the back of my feet. Looking down, I could see half a cloud floating in my reflection, as if I was wearing the sky on my feet 👣. A girl in a dress 👗 was lying in the center of the mirror, letting the shadows of seagulls pass over her waist, startling the clouds to come and join the fun, weaving flowing lace patterns on her skirt ☁️. A photographer in a straw hat squatted in the corner, chuckling: "Don't move, you look like you're being carried by the clouds ✈️!" 🚣♀️ In the evening, I followed the boatman to row a pig trough boat. The wooden oars pushed through not only the lake water but also layers of cloud floc 🌊. "Look to the left!" the boatman suddenly whispered. I saw the golden sunset 🌅 edging the clouds, half a cloud falling into the lake, dyeing the water a warm orange color, even the swimming fish turned into glowing cloud elves 🐟. The boatman casually scooped up a handful of water, and tiny cloud fragments lay in her palm—cloud floc that had been crushed by the wind during the day, now obediently dancing in her palm 💦! 🌌 At night, lying in bed, I heard a "fluttering" sound from the balcony. I tiptoed to open the window, and three seagulls 🦜 were tilting their heads, pecking at the bread crumbs on the railing, with a cloud river studded with stars behind them 🌠. The brightest star fell into the lake, and the ripples shook the reflection of the clouds into crushed diamonds 💎. Even the bonfire songs of the Mosuo people in the distance 🔥 sounded like they were leaking from the folds of the clouds 🎵. 🌸 On the day of departure, I pointed to the crabapple branches in the housekeeper's arms, my eyes shining: "These flowers are so beautiful!" He immediately smiled and handed the flower branches forward, his fingertips still stained with fresh tree sap. Three crimson crabapples trembled, shaking off the morning dew, like they had just stolen a drink of rouge water from the clouds 🌺. "I climbed half a mountain this morning to 'borrow' them back." I pinned the flowers on my bag, the petals gently brushing against my palm, like a kiss with a floral fragrance left by the clouds 💋. 🏡 Looking back as I got into the car, the houses of Tricolor Cloud River were being wrapped in new clouds and mist, like a freshly unwrapped cotton candy ☁️. I suddenly realized that the clouds here are never just a backdrop. They steal kisses from your hair, jump into your reflection, hide in the housekeeper's "secrets," and even quietly sneak into your luggage—what you take away is never just the scenery, but a time of being loved by the clouds ✨!