A man wearing a red, short-sleeved shirt caught my eye as he stepped into a rural cafe in the western suburbs of Shanghai one Sunday afternoon, where I was sipping a cup of hot Americano to ward off the latest round of winter cold.

Alarmed by the day’s weather forecast warning of a nosedive in temperature, I had put on a high-neck knit sweater in addition to a thick hooded jacket before I left my suburban home for a rural ramble in Fangxia Village, Qingpu District. The village, which borders Songjiang District, is my favorite choice for a walk in nature.

When I first discovered this pristine village a few years ago during a field study of its farm irrigation system, it was largely inaccessible and unattractive to most outsiders, given its narrow muddy roads winding through or along vast rice fields and dense forests. In a sense, it was a rustic world unto itself, “aloof” from nearby town residents. I was perhaps one of the very few fans of nature who would ever ramble in this hermit village, trying to get a feel of what a slower life means.

But this Sunday was different. A newly opened rural fair & cafe, shaded by clusters of tall trees and surrounded by well-paved pedestrian and cyclist paths, had surprisingly become a meeting point for enthusiastic runners, cyclists and motorcycle riders from near and far, who can stop to have a rest, drink a cup of coffee or buy some local food like packed rice and mushrooms.

The man in the short-sleeved shirt turned out to be a runner.

“Are you not cold?” I asked him as he paused by a glass door. He looked at me but didn’t reply. Then I realized he was wearing a pair of wireless earplugs.

No sooner had he removed his earplugs than a young woman in sportswear appeared and said to me: “Not cold at all. We’ve just run 10 kilometers from our home in nearby Xujing Town. After a rest here, we’ll run back home.”

She had obviously overheard my question to the young man, who is her husband.

“Did you mean you both ran westward along the Huqingping Highway? Didn’t you mind the heavy traffic and car emissions?” I asked her, assuming they had run along no other path than the often congested highway which I knew so well.

I thought it was the only way to get here from Xujing, a prosperous town on the easternmost edge of Qingpu, which is about 25 kilometers from People’s Square in downtown Shanghai.

“No, we didn’t run along the highway. We ran through different villages all the way,” she replied, explaining in great detail how I could find the rural running route if I was keen to exercise like them someday.

“We’ve been running for many years, even before this rural fair & cafe existed,” she said merrily, noting that the rural fair & cafe is a plus for runners, as it enables them to get refreshed and connected.

After seeing them off, I saw another young woman in sportswear in the distance, a pair of brightly colored bikes beside her. As a superfan of cycling, I went up and struck a conversation.

“How far have you been riding?” I asked.

“We started from our home near Shanghai Zoo in Changning District,” she said. “And after a break here we’ll ride toward University Town in Songjiang District. From there we’ll return home.”

“So, how far is your round trip?”

“About 60 kilometers,” she replied.

As we chatted, a young man dressed like a pro cyclist came along, giving me a friendly nod. He and the woman soon hit the road again, their colorful clothes flickering behind the mosaic leaves of different trees lining the countryside’s cycling route on both sides.

These runners and cyclists were among the many fans of nature who had come to “patronize” the rural fair & cafe. As I looked around, I found many rural ramblers either walking their dogs or sitting in a tent to enjoy stove-boiled tea and yams, as well as various fruits — all provided by the rural cafe.

I went into one such tent and asked a young man there: “Don’t you feel cold in such an open tent in this cold weather?”

“Not at all. You can sit and feel for yourself!” he said enthusiastically.

I came to realize that about six people — from two families — had ordered a set of stove-boiled tea and food accessories to be served in an open tent. I sat down and brought myself closer to the stove on which a teapot was beginning to boil on a charcoal grill. It was warm indeed. And a teenage boy from one of the families could not wait for the formal tea party to begin. He already began to pick and taste the food from the grill.

“We formally opened about two months ago, and even motorcyclists have marked us as one of their favorite stops,” a young clerk at the Yes!Coffee told me. The cafe is located within the rural fair called Xihong Nongfu Shiji (Tomato Farmers’ Fair).

This was beyond my expectation. I knew Fangxia Village had revamped its rural roads and created pedestrian and cyclist paths by the end of last year, and the rural fair & cafe was still under construction early this year. I had interviewed nearby town residents who came for a leisurely walk, but had never expected a rural cafe, situated in a rural food fair, would become a popular destination for town residents and exercisers. It reminded me of a recent article by a scholar from the Netherlands, titled “A Walk Through China’s New Model Countryside,” in the Sixth Tone, an English-language news portal headquartered in Shanghai.

“Walking is an enriching experience, one that can help connect outsiders with locals on a deeper level... Walking means taking the time to slow down and think,” wrote Harry den Hartog, an urban designer who is also a researcher at TU Delft (the Netherlands) and a faculty member at Shanghai’s Tongji University.

His article was based on his recent field study of the countryside in neighboring Zhejiang Province.

While he said Zhejiang’s rural experience may not be copied elsewhere, much of his reflection on rural development can nevertheless be useful for other rural regions.

“As opposed to the Dutch countryside, where supermarket chains have killed off small-scale local shops, in Zhejiang, even in the smallest hamlet, you can find small shops or local eateries. Small-scale sport and health care facilities are also available,” he observed.

And that’s somehow similar in many villages in Shanghai. Not just Fangxia, but nearby Hemu Village has also become a popular go-to place for urban visitors and residents because of its bustling small shops, local eateries and streetside vegetable markets.

After leaving Fangxia Village, I went to Hemu Village — only to find even more local cafes and teahouses beside vast rice fields. Just as busy as these cafes and teahouses were the streetside vendors of various snacks and fresh local vegetables. I bought two bags of pak choi and three bundles of scallions. They were not just much cheaper than those sold on online delivery platforms, but also much fresher and tastier.

It doesn’t have to take a huge crowd of urban visitors who come in cars to revive a rural region. An accessible rural rambling route plus a well-preserved rural landscape and community would go a long way toward realizing the common prosperity of the city and the countryside.

I was so attracted by Fangxia Village’s walking trails and a sense of remoteness from the mundane crowd that I went there again the next day. Part of this article was written in the village’s Tomato Farmers’ Fair, where I had a happy encounter with a 3-year-old toddler under the care of his grandparents.

As dusk drew near, they were ready to return home. Seeing that the grandfather was pushing an empty baby carriage, I asked: “Where’s your grandson?”

He pointed to the forest path and said: “He’s walking with his grandma, and he likes to walk through the forest all the way back home.”