Before the first spring thunder rolls across the loess hills, Liu Xiuhua is already thinking about pears.
The 67-year-old retiree in Lyuliang, Shanxi province, has purchased several fresh ones in preparation for jing zhe, or Awakening of Insects, the solar term that signals the stirring of life after the long stillness of winter.
On Thursday, the day of jing zhe this year, Liu plans to simmer pears with rock sugar and tremella mushrooms for her family, filling the kitchen with a light, honeyed fragrance.
"Eating pears can prevent people from getting internally overheated and help ward off illness in advance," Liu said.
Her pot of pear soup is simple, but it carries centuries of Chinese seasonal wisdom.
Jing zhe marks the time when hibernating creatures begin to emerge. For farming communities, it signals renewed vigilance. Eating pears becomes a symbolic gesture of driving away pests and protecting the year's harvest.
The custom is rooted in the traditional principle that emphasizes alignment between humanity and the rhythms of heaven and earth.
Over centuries, the practice of eating pears at jing zhe has been woven into household life, particularly in agrarian communities.
At its symbolic core lies a linguistic play on words. In Chinese, the word for pear, li, sounds identical to the word for separation, also li. According to folklorist Xiao Fang, eating pears during Awakening of Insects in parts of northern and southern China carries layered meanings. It expresses a wish for insects to "separate" from crops as they awaken in early spring and, by extension, for illness and misfortune to keep their distance.
Shanxi is one of northern China's major pear-producing provinces. Across the Loess Plateau, wide temperature swings, ample sunshine and well-drained soil create favorable conditions for fruit cultivation. Counties such as Qixian and Xixian have long been known for their orchards, and their crisp, thin-skinned pears are a familiar presence in local markets each spring.
In Qixian, the custom extends beyond agriculture into family rituals. Local lore tells of merchants setting out on long journeys on jing zhe. Before departure, they would eat a pear — both a blessing for safety and a reminder not to forget their ancestral roots. The fruit thus came to signify not only parting but also constancy.
The ways pears are prepared across China reflect regional tastes and climates. In northern provinces like Shanxi, the approach is straightforward. Families eat the local varieties fresh in the morning. A popular saying goes: "If you eat pears in jing zhe, you won't cough all year."
Steamed pears are also common, especially for children and the elderly. First, a pear is hollowed out and filled with rock sugar and fritillaria bulbs. Then, it is gently steamed until tender. The result is a mild and warming dish that is both a remedy and a gesture of familial care.
In Xixian and Qixian, the older generation soaks pear slices overnight and sprinkles the infused water around doors and windows the next day — a symbolic act of repelling insects in keeping with jing zhe.
Farther south, culinary adaptations become more intricate. In Guangdong province, where the spring air is humid, pears are often paired with aged tangerine peel. Steamed together, the aromatic peel tempers the fruit's cooling nature while enhancing its digestive properties. Other southern variations include slow-cooked pear soups with other local ingredients.
Outside, the first thunder of the Awakening of Insects rolls across Shanxi's hills. Inside, steam curls above Liu's pear soup as her family lifts their bowls. In the sweetness, there is warmth.
In the ritual, there is reassurance. Spring, once again, has begun.
