Damn, Spring is here—The Coast and Glory of 2026

Waves roll in with salty winds, sweeping over golden beaches and also over the beginning of 2026. When the white horse steps onto the sand, its green skirt fluttering in the wind; when the black horse stands firmly by the tide, its figure tall and resilient like a pine—this scene of horseback riding along the coast is the most vivid illustration of “prince and princess,” and also hides our hottest expectations for the Year of the Horse in Bingwu—I'm here on horseback, ready for a promise with beauty, passion, and new beginnings.

In fairy tales, princes and princesses are always accompanied by castles and roses, but in reality, we build castles in our hearts and plant roses along our paths. This coast is not a fictional secret realm; it’s the wilderness of life. The steed beneath us is not a magical gift but a symbol of unwavering courage. The white horse, like snow, carries gentle hopes, crushing yesterday’s trivialities with every step; the black horse, like ink, bears steadfast faith, with each breath in sync with the waves. They stand side by side, gazing at the distant tides, just like each of us heading toward 2026—accompanied by loved ones, holding onto ourselves, ready to spur our horses and crack the whip on the shores of time.

“I’m here on horseback,” this cry is the most straightforward declaration for 2026. In the days gone by, perhaps we polished our temperaments amid trivial routines, learned to cherish through minor health setbacks, and accumulated strength in ordinary moments. Those mornings when we carefully washed up, the warm milk soothing our stomachs, every small habit adjusted for comfort—all these are the confidence we’ve built for this “ride on horseback.” In the Year of the Horse in Bingwu, the fiery horse welcomes spring, just like the burning passion in our hearts—no more hesitation, no more wandering—only riding the swift horse of time, rushing toward mountains and seas, toward the ideal land in our hearts.

The “prince and princess” on this coast are never about status or coronation, but about a state of being. It’s about having the ability to remain gentle and steadfast after years; about facing storms with the silent understanding of walking together; about daring in the new year to meet every challenge with the stance of “coming on horseback.” The waves crashing ashore are the beat of destiny; the neighing of the steed is the horn of dreams. The wind of 2026 has already blown to the coast, ruffling the green skirts, tousling the manes of black horses, and reaching deep into our hearts, longing to break through.

There’s no need to worry about fairy-tale endings, because in 2026, we are all the protagonists of our own stories. The white horse carries health and smooth sailing; the black horse bears career and dreams. The end of the coast is not a destination but a new beginning. We come on horseback, with reverence for daily life, cherishing health, and guarding each other. On the wilderness of the Year of the Horse, we gallop toward our own glory.

Waves continue to surge, and the steed is already poised. In 2026, I’m here on horseback— with the resolve of a prince, the tenderness of a princess, and the courage of a hero—rushing toward every sunny day, every hopeful encounter. May this steed of time carry us across mountains and seas, through confusion, and write all the beauty into the journey of the Year of the Horse.