Walking through the lush pathways of Jili Park this morning, I couldn’t help but reflect on how certain places—much like certain stories in video games—reveal themselves differently depending on when and how you experience them. I’ve been coming here for years, and every visit uncovers something new, a hidden trail or a quiet bench with a perfect view. It reminds me of the way Death Stranding, released back in 2019, eerily foreshadowed the isolation and longing for connection that defined the COVID-19 pandemic. In the game, characters live in isolated bunkers, struggling to reach out—much like many of us did during lockdowns. Jili Park, in its own way, became a kind of sanctuary during that time, a place where people could safely gather, breathe fresh air, and feel a little less alone. Now, with restrictions lifted, the park has transformed again. It’s busier, livelier, but still holds pockets of tranquility that feel almost secret, almost sacred.
If you’re planning a trip to Jili Park, let me share some of the must-see spots and hidden gems I’ve come to love. Start with the Lotus Pond near the north entrance—it’s easy to miss if you’re not looking carefully, but it’s one of the most serene areas in the entire park. Early in the morning, around 6:30 AM, the light hits the water in a way that turns the whole scene golden. I’ve spent countless hours there, just sitting and thinking, much like the introspective moments in Death Stranding where the landscape itself feels like a character. From there, head over to the Bamboo Grove Walk. It’s less frequented than the main trails, and the density of the bamboo creates a natural sound barrier, muffling the noise from the city. On weekends, you might stumble upon small groups practicing tai chi or friends having picnics, but even then, it never feels crowded. I’d estimate that around 70% of first-time visitors overlook this area, which is a shame because it’s one of the park’s most atmospheric zones.
Then there’s the Sunset Pavilion, perched on a small hill with a panoramic view of the park. It’s especially popular at dusk, and for good reason—the way the sky changes colors over the canopy is breathtaking. But here’s a tip: most people leave right after the sun sets. If you stick around for another twenty minutes, you’ll get to see the park lights flicker on, casting soft, dramatic shadows across the paths. It’s a completely different experience, quieter and more intimate. I’ve always felt that the best parts of any journey are those unscripted moments—the ones you can’t really plan for. That’s something Death Stranding 2 seems to emphasize, too. Unlike its predecessor, which had a clear, almost prophetic message about connection and isolation, the sequel appears to juggle multiple themes at once: climate change, automation, even the role of firearms in society. It’s messier, less focused, but in a way that encourages you to find your own meaning. Similarly, Jili Park doesn’t force a single narrative on you. You can come for the famous rose garden—which, by the way, boasts over 200 varieties—or you can wander off and discover your own favorite corner.
Another underrated spot is the Stone Bridge near the western edge. It’s not marked on most park maps, and you’ll likely have to ask a regular to find it. But once you do, you’ll understand why it’s worth the search. The bridge arches over a narrow stream, and beneath it, the water flows gently over smooth, gray stones. I’ve seen kingfishers there more than once, a flash of blue against the green backdrop. It’s the kind of place that makes you pause and appreciate the smaller details—the way the wind rustles the leaves or the distant laughter of children playing somewhere unseen. This reminds me of Sloclap’s upcoming game, Rematch, which aims to capture the chaotic, joyful spirit of informal football matches. Just as that game tries to recreate the feeling of using jumpers as goalposts and scoring unexpected goals, Jili Park has spaces that evoke a similar nostalgia. There’s a small, grassy field tucked away behind the administration building where local kids often play football after school. I’ve watched them sometimes, and their sheer, unfiltered excitement takes me back to my own childhood, running around with friends without a care in the world.
Of course, no visit to Jili Park would be complete without exploring the main attractions. The Central Fountain show, which runs every hour from 10 AM to 8 PM, draws large crowds—especially on Saturdays, when attendance can reach up to 5,000 visitors. The water dances to music, and at night, colored lights make it a spectacle. But if you ask me, it’s a bit too polished, too predictable. I prefer the quieter, more organic experiences. Like the Heritage Wall along the southern path, which features engraved poetry from local writers. It’s not as flashy, but it tells a story—one about the community and its history. Or the Butterfly Garden, which is home to roughly 50 species during peak season between April and June. It’s a vibrant, living exhibit that changes daily, and I’ve probably taken hundreds of photos there over the years.
In many ways, Jili Park is a microcosm of the themes we see in contemporary storytelling, whether in games like Death Stranding 2 or in our own lives. It’s a space that balances order and chaos, the curated and the wild. It invites you to reflect, to connect, and sometimes, to just get lost for a while. As I left the park today, I thought about how both the park and these narratives ask us to consider our relationship with the world and with each other. Maybe that’s the real hidden gem—not just a place or a moment, but the way it makes you feel long after you’ve left. So next time you’re here, take a detour. Skip the crowded spots for an hour and see what you find. I promise, it’ll be worth it.