As I left Grandma’s house that second time, I found myself thinking about her life as a rural woman. Like many of her generation, she began with years of uncompensated labor—farming, caregiving, sustaining a household. As China transformed rapidly around her, she struggled to claim a share of its benefits, while at times being treated as a symbol of backwardness and underdevelopment.

And yet, she was also not like many others—because of The Egg.

After some more climbing in the serene Fried Egg Face, I was hungry enough to take a food break. Then Kayla shouted while looking at her phone: “She’s here!!” She shoved her phone in front of my face. It showed a WeChat message from our informant: 她来了!!! (She’s here!!!)

I was anxious to return to The Egg because I had no other way of contacting Grandma Lu. She was among the 19% of the Chinese population who do not carry a smartphone. Without a way to reach her, I found myself imagining that any number of things could have happened—things that might make her disappear from my world: her old age, the cold weather, and the possibility that I might not see this project through. This anxiety deepened during the tedious car ride, compounded by my backache, especially because she had told me she would leave the crag every day after 3 p.m.

Coming home this time, I asked myself many times why The Egg had captivated my attention. Perhaps I couldn’t shake the discomfort of moving through this place with a name that might not have been its own. Perhaps I feared that this place, which had always held my escapes, was more fragile than I was willing to see. Perhaps I sensed that the petite, enigmatic figure I had encountered there had stories yet unheard. Or perhaps I was simply looking for a site, free of contracts and KPIs, where I could live out the kind of co-design I believed in.

In returning to outdoor climbing, I chose to revisit a familiar place: a limestone crag known as the Egg—a standalone formation about 6 km from the center of Yangshuo.

The Egg also came with a person.

“The Grandma of the Egg,” my friend said casually.

“Who is she?” I asked.