It started with a dare.

A casual lunch with a friend had turned into a heated discussion about what it meant to understand love—truly, deeply, in all its messy variations. A journalist friend half-jokingly said to me, “You write about relationships like you’ve lived a thousand years, but have you ever camped outside a temple to meet couples on a matchmaking pilgrimage? No? Then, maybe your stories aren’t risky enough.”

Challenge accepted.

Love and Lanterns: The Night I Camped Out for a Story

For context, I was researching a piece on modern matchmaking traditions. In China, one of the more peculiar still-practiced customs involves visiting temples with a reputation for blessing romantic unions. For singletons, it's like making a vision board, but with more incense smoke and significantly higher stakes. I’d read about one such place in Hangzhou—an ancient temple where couples tie red ribbons on trees for eternal love, and singles try their luck under the watchful eye of Yue Lao, the mythical "Old Man of the Moon," said to bind destinies with his red string of fate.

I decided the best way to understand this tradition was to live it. For one long, very uncomfortable night, I became one of the pilgrims. My tent wasn’t fancy—think budget camping gear hastily bought online—and I was naïve enough to believe that my years of listening to traditional love stories made me some kind of authority on this experience. In reality, the night was a strange cocktail of awkward encounters, unexpected wisdom, and no small amount of secondhand embarrassment.

Striking Up Conversations at 3 A.M. Should Be a Sport

Try introducing yourself to a group of strangers when you’re carrying a notebook, sporting dark circles under your eyes, and clearly not there for the same reasons as everyone else. The couples I met assumed I was either an eccentric love researcher or a voyeur (spoiler: not the vibe you want to give off). The singletons, meanwhile, were split between cautious optimism and resigned defeat.

Around 3 a.m., I stumbled into a heated debate with a group of strangers about whether Yue Lao’s red string could withstand the modern complexity of long-distance relationships. Would it fray under stress? Could it stretch across oceans? One woman told me her ex had been “string material” until she discovered he thought Monday night hotpot counted as foreplay (her words, not mine). Another man told me that Yue Lao was “more reliable than any dating app” because at least the gods don’t ghost you. Fair point.

These conversations oscillated between profound and laughably bizarre. Nevertheless, I scribbled everything down because journalism, like love, is often about finding meaning in the absurd.

The Old Man of the Moon: A Reluctant Matchmaker?

Somewhere in the archives of Chinese folklore, Yue Lao is likely shaking his head at how humans have turned his red strings into both a comfort blanket and an excuse. Originally, the idea of the red string was a poetic way to explain connection—that magnetic pull we feel when someone, for no logical reason at all, just clicks for us. But in that temple under the stars, I realized how easily we pass responsibility for love onto something—or someone—else.

I met a woman who had traveled over 600 miles just to plead her case to Yue Lao. She was desperate for a sign, tired of waiting for love to happen to her. “These temple visits are cheaper than therapy,” she joked, though her eyes betrayed a deep loneliness. I wanted to tell her that love isn’t passive, that it involves effort and vulnerability. But I stopped myself. Who was I to dismiss her faith in Yue Lao when every romantic has their own version of the red string? Some people pin hopes on matchmaking gods, others on opening lines like “Who’s your favorite Marvel character?” on first dates. It’s all belief, packaged differently.

What I Learned About Love: The Weirdness Is the Point

Around dawn, as vendors opened stalls selling tea and handmade talismans, I finally understood why I was there. Love—and our pursuit of it—is intrinsically weird. It asks you to sit in a tent, inhale too much incense, and look for signs in the moonlight. It asks for leaps of faith, bouts of irrational optimism, and occasionally, the willingness to embarrass yourself at karaoke night.

The weirdness isn’t an obstacle; it’s the whole experience. Falling in love—whether with a person or even just with the idea of love itself—requires a certain surrender. And let me tell you, during that long night of storytelling and questionable snacks purchased from temple stalls, there was a moment I felt it. A kind of magic. A reminder that while the “how” of love looks different for everyone, the “why” is universal.

Lessons from a Temple Night

So, what can you take from my arguably ridiculous night out for a story? Here are a few insights:

  • Love Requires Your Active Participation: Whether you’re tying a ribbon to a tree, swiping left or right, or simply opening yourself up to new possibilities, love doesn’t just happen to you. You happen to it, too.

  • Never Underestimate the Power of Ritual: Whether it’s visiting a temple, writing down your goals, or even a pre-date pep talk in the mirror, rituals are grounding. They remind us what we’re striving for and why it matters.

  • Find Your Own “Red String”: Maybe your version of Yue Lao isn’t a god or a temple. Maybe it’s your favorite uncle who always says, “When you know, you know,” or the trusted friend who screens your texts to potential crushes. The point is: Find your tether, your reminder that connection is possible.

  • Weird Is Wonderful: If you take nothing else from this, remember that love’s peculiarities—its idiosyncrasies, risks, and even its occasional flops—are what make it so thrilling. Embrace the weird.

Closing Thoughts

After my night at the temple, I didn’t walk away with a divine revelation or even remotely comfortable feet (bad sandals, rookie mistake). But I did leave with a new appreciation for the variety of ways people seek connection. Whether it's through an app, a friend’s setup, or yes, even a matchmaking pilgrimage, the search for love is as ancient as Yue Lao himself. And if the red string theory is true, then maybe all this messy, strange, glorious effort isn’t about finding someone at all. Maybe it’s about the courage to believe that when it’s time, they’ll find you, too.