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Beijing

71 - 100 of 100
59 Beijing, Beijing, China
Seeking: Male 50 - 70
Nelly
26 Beijing, Beijing, China
Seeking: Male 20 - 60
lan
49 Beijing, Beijing, China
Seeking: Male 43 - 55
Jasmine
32 Beijing, Beijing, China
Seeking: Male 29 - 48
秋水伊云
31 Beijing, Beijing, China
Seeking: Male 45 - 58
hua
50 Beijing, Beijing, China
Seeking: Male 55 - 65
cuijing
26 Beijing, Beijing, China
Seeking: Male 22 - 40
A Good Woman
49 Beijing, Beijing, China
Seeking: Male 41 - 60
Luyun
42 Beijing, Beijing, China
Seeking: Male 40 - 55
if seasons had a voice I would be the quiet rustle of early-autumn leaves in Beijing—still warm, still full of green promise, but touched by the gentle gold of experience. I am 42, and the map of my life so far is drawn in soft pencil rather than indelible ink: eight years of marriage that taught me the architecture of compromise, followed by six years of chosen single-motherhood that taught me the art of rebuilding with grace instead of gravel. I am the mother of two passports and two heartbeats. My first-born, a 13-year-old boy whose laugh used to echo through our hutong courtyard, now stretches his wings in school, already a proud U.S. citizen. We calculate time-zones together—he at 7 a.m. Eastern, me at 7 p.m. Beijing—so that geometry homework and maternal encouragement can travel the world in a single Skype call. My second heartbeat is eight, a ribbon-twirling, question-asking whirlwind who still fits beneath my chin when we hug. She and I each clutch a U.S. green card, a tiny rectangle that feels like a promise: that education, opportunity and open skies can belong to us, yet we still return to the aroma of jasmine tea and the symphony of Beijing cicadas. Professionally, I stand at the intersection of science and self-confidence. I work for a medical-aesthetic company, guiding women and men who wish to meet their reflections with kindness rather than criticism. My days are spent translating collagen data into gentle poetry, explaining laser wavelengths in the same calm voice I once used to read bedtime stories about talking trains. The operating theatre lights remind me that improvement is possible—on skin, on hearts, on horizons—if one is willing to trust expert hands. My own recipe for radiance is simpler: lace up at dawn, jog until the Temple of Heaven’s cypress paths smell of crushed pine and possibility, then lift weights while the city yawns itself awake. When the weekend arrives I trade treadmill for tarmac and run along the Chaobai River, phone tucked away, mind unraveling like silk. Travel is the other vitamin I never skip. I have learned to pack a week’s wardrobe into a carry-on, to bargain in Spanish at Barcelona markets, to blush in French over Lyon coffees, and to high-five sunrise over the Angkor Wat lotus pond. Each boarding pass is a breadcrumb leading me back to myself—only a slightly expanded version. Family and friends call me the “quiet magnet”—the one who remembers birthdays, who stocks spare toothbrushes for impromptu guests, who refuses to let a dinner table end the night without a toast to something, anything, worth celebrating. We host hot-pot Sundays where phones sleep in a basket and laughter seasons the broth better than chili oil ever could.
王雪
28 Beijing, Beijing, China
Seeking: Male 25 - 35

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