The Wellness‑Retreat Base for So‑Called Extraordinary Talents

 

Mountains stretch everywhere across Yanchi Town. We had cycled here once before. The ride from our home in West Third‑Ring Haidian covers roughly 70 kilometres and takes around four hours. The round‑trip journey is physically draining. Exhausted and gasping for breath upon arrival last time, we never mustered the courage to cycle there again.

 

Still, Yanchi boasts breathtaking scenery that I adore. Lush green hills and clear streams feed the Yongding River. Beijing’s environmental protection work has yielded remarkable results, leaving the mountain brooks crystal‑clear. The town also hosts a grand canyon. Deep mountains, gorges, running streams and waterfalls combine to hold powerful appeal for us.

 

More remote than Miaofengshan Town, Yanchi is home to many untouched mountain villages free of industrial traces. I have long taken a liking to this place and once toyed with the idea of settling in seclusion here, or further away in Qingshui Town. I even short‑listed several ideal spots.

 

Yet my dream of mountain retreat remains out of reach for the time being, as I still have life‑long responsibilities to fulfil. Every trip into the hills merely serves as a small indulgence.

 

This time, near the road leading to Nanshiyang Grand Canyon, we stumbled upon a scenic halfway‑up‑the‑hill site dotted with antique‑style buildings. We parked the car downhill and wandered uphill on foot.

 

We soon learned that a native of Fujian had leased this land and developed it into a residential compound with around thirty exquisitely‑built northern‑style courtyard houses of modest scale.

 

Besides the courtyards, he had put up a combined fitness and recreational centre furnished with a score of calligraphy desks for scripture copying and workout gear. Two partitioned side rooms served as a tea house and a chess‑and‑card chamber. Additional communal facilities included a shared kitchen. The owner told me he planned to source authentic fine‑flavoured ingredients from across the country for residents to enjoy home‑cooked meals.

 

Born in 1980, the middle‑aged landlord is merely one year younger than I am, yet he looks at least ten years older. He runs considerable properties around Beijing, and by his own account this is far from his only venture — clear proof of his sharp business acumen. He greeted us warm‑heartedly, offered me tea and struck up a conversation, even though we were unplanned drop‑in visitors.

 

I gathered during our chat that the courtyard houses are available for long‑term 20‑year leases, with annual rent ranging from 30,000 to 60,000 yuan. Several units were already occupied by middle‑class locals from Beijing, either retired or nearing retirement.

 

When he found out I worked in medicine, his interest in me grew, and he pressed hard for me to rent one courtyard. I was briefly tempted, yet his subsequent remarks made me abandon the thought.

 

To win me over, he painted a rosy picture. He intended to build a premium wellness base, invite a Taoist priest to teach the Marrow‑Washing Classic and Tendon‑Changing Classic fitness routines, and run medicinal‑diet programmes. Several courtyards would be reserved for recuperating patients charged a 100,000‑yuan entry fee, plus nightly accommodation fees of 1,400 to 1,500 yuan. His goal was to create the ultimate recovery haven for the unwell.

 

The more I listened, the more sceptical I grew, as he rambled on with his ambitious plans. Drawing on my professional experience, I told him plainly that his build and facial features strongly suggested chronic conditions such as high blood‑lipids.

 

He was remarkably candid and admitted he suffered not only from elevated blood lipids but also high blood sugar, hypertension and impaired liver and kidney function. People in poor health naturally seek out doctors, hence his frankness toward me.

 

I bit back several impolite retorts. I wanted to ask how someone with his array of illnesses could presume to design healthy lifestyles for others rather than running a scam. How could he risk disgruntled patients after they spent huge sums on entry fees? If he gathered delicacies nationwide, would that not worsen his metabolic ailments? Might long‑term medicinal‑diet therapies end up damaging his liver and kidneys?

 

His understanding of health preservation was plainly superficial, typical of the mainstream wellness mindset widespread across modern‑day society. Fueled by online wellness influencers, countless people blindly accept these sensationalised methods. I have little doubt his business scheme will succeed commercially, yet I hold no fondness for his venture.

 

Three households had already moved in. One group of severely overweight middle‑aged and elderly residents were barbecuing in their courtyard. Another quiet ageing man relaxed in a recliner, smoking cigarettes. The third tenant was a female western‑medicine physician. She chatted with us and warmly invited my wife and me to stay for a fish stew cooked in an iron pot. Plump‑bodied, she remained utterly fond of rich food. I could not help wondering how such residents could possibly pursue wholesome living in this community.

 

As we drove away, I told my wife I would never revisit the compound. She laughed and asked whether I sought to safeguard my reputation and stay clear of the landlord’s schemes.

 

That formed part of my reasoning, yet two weightier reasons stood out. First, I could never bear to see my patients burdened with such exorbitant costs. Second, I fundamentally reject the wellness philosophy promoted by such mountain retreats.

My ideal life, once I finish my studies, is to work as a village doctor at a township health‑centre or rural clinic. Alongside my medical practice, I would run cross‑border e‑commerce, tend farmland and conduct quiet research in my spare time. I wish to avoid mental and physical strain for myself, and spare my patients inflated medical expenses.

 

I have trained under a master as a traditional Chinese medicine disciple for years and now pursue full‑time western‑medicine studies at university. To my mind, competent healthcare prioritises patient safety, treatment effectiveness and affordable costs. Doctors who overlook these principles will constantly face doctor‑patient disputes.

 

These commercial wellness bases fall short on safety, efficacy and affordability, while relying heavily on overblown publicity. Getting entangled in such operations risks serious medical accidents.

 

Having witnessed the inner workings of this fashionable wellness retreat, I sincerely advise readers not to fall for flashy marketing and wellness myths. For lasting good health, nothing beats authoritative popular‑science reading, reduced intake of high‑sugar, high‑fat and heavy‑protein food, moderate labour or exercise, and a balanced state of mind. Never place blind faith in commercially packaged wellness gurus and their miraculous health cures.