A Perfect Day
2026-03-28
This post is a submission to the BlogBlog Club, theme: “A Perfect Day.” Thanks to Alex for hosting ✨
In high school, ten of us were crammed into a single dorm room. Bunk beds everywhere. Every night felt like living in a nation that never sleeps.
Back then, there was only one thing I longed for: a room of my own, with a door I could lock.
Click — and the world went quiet.
Morning · A Room of One’s Own
In my mind, a perfect day begins with a room that belongs to me. Ideally with what Stefanie Sun sings about — “big floor-to-ceiling windows.”
It sounds dramatic, but in high school I actually fought through layers of bureaucracy to make it happen. In most boarding schools in mainland China, getting permission to live off-campus is nearly impossible. But I pushed through, one hurdle at a time, and eventually rented a small place near the school. That’s when I finally felt settled.
In college, the rooms got bigger. Ten people became four or six — sounds like an upgrade, right? But communal living always comes with friction. Different sleep schedules; you want to hop on a video call, but your roommate’s gaming next to you; you want to record a video, but someone’s studying. My skin has gotten thick enough that I can run meetings with people around now, but honestly, having your own room just hits different.
Every time I go home, I can’t help but think: having my own room is the best.
Not because it’s a luxury, but because — the moment you lock that door, you’ve separated yourself from the world. You step into your own thoughts, your own rhythm, your own universe.
A perfect morning is for focus.
If I could design it freely, I’d spend this solitary time creating some value for others — a bit of research, a piece of content to share, a bit of learning. Or simply, freely building whatever I want to build. Like, I’ve been wanting to make a robot lately, so I’d have time to study mechanical structures and soldering. Or if I saw a really cool animation effect in a video, I could spend time figuring out how it was made.
This feeling of “I can freely dive deep into something” — it’s precious.
Not assigned, not for homework, but driven by curiosity. A morning carried by curiosity is itself part of the perfection. I’ve always been a loyal fan of Anne (from Anne of Green Gables) — she finds everything fresh, curious about anything and everything. I want my mornings to be like that.
Noon · The Anywhere Door and the Courtyard
At noon, I wish there were a place like this —
A long corridor wrapping around a courtyard. It could be the traditional sìmǎ-tuōchē skywell of an old house, or a modern greenhouse garden. Low steps all around where everyone can sit down casually.
Then, my family and friends, from all corners of the world, step through a Doraemon Anywhere Door — push it open, and they’re here.
They might have just paused their work, set down a book, or walked over holding a child’s hand. But for this stretch of time, everyone gathers in this courtyard, each picking up chopsticks to fill their bowls with rice or just gnawing on a sweet potato, sitting around the skywell, chattering away.
Not a deliberate gathering, but a spontaneous assembly of living, breathing people.
Noisy? Fine. Laughing? Fine. Pouring their hearts out? That’s fine too.
To be honest, I’ve had plenty of online meetings and quite a few coffee chats. The person on the other side of the screen is real, and the conversation is real, but something always feels missing. Maybe it’s the bowl of rice with steam rising from it, maybe it’s the sound of a kid running by laughing, or maybe it’s simply the fact that “you’re sitting right next to me.” No matter how convenient online communication is, you can’t smell the courtyard, can’t feel that tangible sense of energy flowing between people.
Face-to-face versus through a screen — the difference really is that big.
So in a perfect day, lunch isn’t just lunch. It’s the point where everyone’s trajectories intersect — even though each person has their own work, studies, and life, for this brief window, everyone converges in the same courtyard, under the same slant of sunlight.
Afternoon · The Crooked Kick
After lunch, a perfect day shouldn’t be spent sprawled on a couch scrolling through your phone all afternoon.
I’m someone who doesn’t watch short-form videos and basically only uses social media as a search engine — but I do get lost in the world of manga. Manga is a wonderful medium, but if you spend an entire day immersed in it, your mental energy is actually drained. It may be a valuable, relaxing day, but it’s not really the kind of “perfect day” I’m after.
A perfect afternoon should involve movement. Maybe humans simply need time to have a conversation with their own bodies, and doing it in a community makes it lighter.
Going hiking with friends, training together in the martial arts room, even just practicing the basics.
Speaking of Tai Chi — whether it’s regular group training or a casual evening session, I always feel something from standing meditation and form practice. It’s hard to put into words, but it’s a warm current flowing from mind to body, a feeling of serene tranquility. Not the “wow I’m so pumped” kind of intensity, but like water flowing over a riverbed — quiet, but you know it’s moving.
Of course, a perfect day always comes with imperfect elements.
Like, why did that kick go crooked? Why do the shoulders keep rising during arm supports? Why isn’t the cartwheel elegant enough? Why does the entire form set look so stiff — because there’s not yet enough muscle strength to support those movements?
But as the moon waxes, it must wane. There’s no such thing as 100 percent perfection.
Night · Conversations in the Corridor
At night, the dinner chatter carries on, spilling into the corridor.
There’s actually something I really miss about high school. Dorm life wasn’t exactly pleasant — squeezing ten people together is never a great idea — but there was a feeling that’s been hard to replicate since: a group of people gathered in one place, living life together, with a bond that was remarkably tight.
In that kind of environment, you didn’t need to scroll through the never-ending stream of social media notifications, and you didn’t need to rack your brain thinking “how do I take the first step to reach out to someone.” You were already in a circle of conversation. Walk two steps, and you could casually start chatting with anyone. Sometimes the chatting would turn into standing up and comparing a couple of martial arts moves — teaching a newcomer a technique, or correcting each other’s stances — all very natural connections.
What you talk about can be things you’re both familiar with, or things you know but they don’t, or things they know but you’ve never heard of. All fine. What matters most is — having that space.
As the perfect day draws to a close, I also want to save a small window of time for myself.
Reading a blog post, checking if a favorite creator posted something new, seeing what people outside my own circles are thinking about. (Because as a human being, there’s still that involuntary spark of joy when acquiring new knowledge, haha.)
A Perfect Day Goes Like This
Morning — door locked, world quiet, just me and my curiosity.
Noon — the Anywhere Door opens, everyone’s paths cross in the same courtyard.
Afternoon — crooked kicks and clumsy cartwheels, reminding me I’m alive and still practicing.
Night — effortless conversations in the corridor, warmer than any social media app.
Then it gets late, and I lock the door again.
Click.
A perfect day is probably one spent freely and effortlessly, somewhere between closing the door and opening it again.