In Beijing’s summer, cicadas chirp in tandem with pigeon whistles over gray-tiled roofs, sunlight dappling the ground through locust tree branches. In the hazy glow of dawn-dusk, figures sway paper fans, tracing the veins of “summer” back to the imprints of memory. The pastry artisans at Four Seasons Hotel Beijing have carefully kneaded childhood flavours into existence, using ingenious creativity to reinterpret the local tales and textures of bygone times. Amid relentless cicada song,…
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