Growing green in small ways

Tang Shuijuan, who lives in Qingyuan in South China's Guangdong province, begins each morning with stretches in her 8-square-meter balcony garden.

"I check each plant for new flowers or insects, see which ones need watering, feed the birds and fish, sweep up fallen leaves, and then start my day," she said.

After graduating from university, Tang rented a modest rooftop room in Guangzhou, drawn by its sunlit balcony. She soon turned it into a small garden, and the greenery and flowers gave her a sense of home and hope amid the instability of life.

"Even though the house is rented, my life doesn't have to be," she said.

When she later bought her own home in Qingyuan, having a balcony for planting was non-negotiable.

"When I took possession of the apartment in January 2021, the very first thing I did was fill the balcony with plants — even before doing any renovation or buying a single piece of furniture," she said.

Over time, the balcony has become an anchor for Tang amid the pressures of work. Standing among the plants and pausing for a moment, she often feels that "nothing is insurmountable".

Across China, many young people are reconnecting with nature not through distant mountains or forests, but in small, everyday spaces — balcony gardens, moss terrariums, or even the hidden vibrations inside trees.

In Fuzhou, East China's Fujian province, Cai Xiazi builds miniature landscapes inside glass containers.

Trained in fashion design, Cai is the founder of Miss Moss, a local brand specializing in original moss terrarium design. She felt that domestic indoor bonsai styles had long leaned toward traditionally masculine aesthetics, and she struggled to find pieces that aligned with her own refined, romantic taste.

When some male designers dismissed her cute decorative elements as "childish" or "not sophisticated enough", she decided to create a brand for those who shared her aesthetic, refusing to let others define what "sophistication" should mean.

Cai describes herself as "a translator of nature" who transforms hard-to-reach landscapes and plants into three-dimensional desktop paintings.

In the past, she was impatient and drawn to the adrenaline of riding heavy motorcycles. But the slow, meticulous process of crafting terrariums gradually changed her pace and temperament. Working with plants brought her a sense of calm and gentle strength, replacing the thrill she once sought elsewhere.

For Tang and Cai, nature is something to observe and cultivate. For Shanghai-based content creator Yuan Xi, however, it is something to listen to.

Yuan records the hidden sounds inside trees. Wearing headphones, he presses contact probes connected to specialized microphones against tree trunks, capturing vibrations beneath the surface with a sound recorder.

"Every tree is like a musical instrument," he said. "Different weather brings different musicians — wind plays heavy metal, rain plays folk."

His journey began after he resigned from his job, feeling bored and drained. One day, while walking with his young daughter — who loves touching leaves — he helped her identify different plants. During those walks, he came across recordings of tree sounds and became fascinated. Curious to hear them for himself, he started experimenting and posted his first video on Xiaohongshu (RedNote) in July 2025.

Since then, he has spent more time looking up at trees instead of down at his phone — a habit he says has improved his posture. "When I went home for the National Day holiday in October, my mom asked if I had grown taller," he said.

The experience also taught him to embrace uncertainty, a contrast to the strict order that once defined his work in project management. Last summer, after hours of fruitless recording in a park, he tried placing his probe into the hollow trunk of a crape myrtle tree. Ants suddenly poured out, and the unexpected moment later became a popular video.

"I wasn't even trying to record ants — I just happened to poke into an ant nest," he said.

Digital echoes

In 2024, Tang began sharing her balcony garden on social media. At first, many young followers simply asked for planting tips. But over time, she observed a shift in the tone of their messages.

One particular comment stayed with her: "If I fill my home with flowers like this, would my depression get better?"

"Connecting with nature is no longer merely a leisurely pastime, but a form of emotional healing," Tang said.

Cai has witnessed similar emotional connections through her terrariums. One customer in Shanghai, living alone after his mother's passing, began dedicating an entire room in his apartment to miniature landscapes when he no longer felt like going out or socializing. Through livestreams and online chats, Cai gradually noticed him becoming more communicative.

She believes the small green worlds she built offered him a sense of companionship.

That same sense of quiet companionship, she said, is also what many people seek in their daily workspace. More than half of the inquiries she now receives are for desk-sized pieces designed for offices.

"Traditional plants may serve primarily as decoration, but moss terrariums function more like a work companion," she said. When screen fatigue or stress builds up, she added, the tiny green landscapes provide instant visual relief and a brief mental escape.

Yuan has also noticed differences in how younger viewers interact with his content. Followers aged roughly 18 to 25 frequently tag friends in the comments, sometimes mentioning several people in a single post. Those aged 25 to 35 are more likely to leave short reflections such as "so soothing" or "love this".

He believes his recordings offer the kind of freedom many young people long for from rigid nine-to-five routines and unfulfilling jobs. The quiet energy of nature helps them calm their minds and experience a sense of peace that goes beyond simple entertainment.

To Tang, Cai, and Yuan, the plants and trees they tend, craft, and record reflect the experiences of their generation.

Tang compares young people to bougainvillea, which she describes as "down-to-earth and unpretentious". The plant requires relatively little care yet blooms vibrantly, with its colorful "petals" actually being leaves that conceal smaller flowers inside.

In her view, the younger generation similarly values substance over slogans — bringing their own reusable cups to coffee shops or choosing secondhand furniture — because it feels right, both environmentally and economically.

Cai likens youth's resilience to pincushion moss, a staple plant in her terrariums. Lush and bright green when thriving, it fades and enters dormancy when deprived of water but can recover with light and moisture. It simply needs patience, she said — recovery is always possible as long as one does not give up.

Yuan sees the same resilience in the trees he records. He believes the same could be said for many young people today — they may appear calm on the surface, with little visible change in their lives or careers, but they are always growing.

"These sounds you may not have heard, but they have always been there," he said.

Contact the writers at xiongxinyi@i21st.cn