If I had to describe Guangxi's winter in one word, I'd choose “sweet.” Not the intense sweetness of bubble tea, but the faint scent of sugarcane lingering in the air: When harvest season arrives, fields of sugarcane seem to have stored sunlight and rain within their fibrous stalks, waiting to be pressed, boiled, and slowly reduced by time into blocks of sugar that will accompany people through their days.

For many, their “sweet memories” begin right here—from the cane fields to the kitchen stove, from a pot of steaming syrup to a simple, traditional yellow sugar block. It's unassuming yet practical: break off a small piece, drop it into the pot to melt slowly, and it perfectly balances the sweetness—clean, smooth, and never cloying.

The History of a Single Sugar Cube: Boiling sugar is how Guangxi people preserve sweetness

Guangxi's sweetness isn't just a product; it's a craft. When older generations talk about boiling sugar, they never say “the sweeter the better.” Instead, they emphasize “heat control” and “consistency”: when to use high heat to bring it to a boil, when to switch to low heat for slow simmering, and when to reduce the syrup to form the final product—a delicate balance where one misstep can lead to burning or a loose consistency.

This obsession with precision feels surprisingly modern today: it naturally aligns with our understanding of health—no excess, no layering, no overindulgence. Sweetness remains, but it's more restrained, more controlled.

Thus, the most captivating aspect of traditional yellow sugar isn't its “rich flavor,” but its ability to make sweetness pure. When you use it to make sweet soups, you'll find it doesn't overpower the ingredients: the gelatinous texture of snow fungus, the crisp fragrance of snow pears, the tender softness of red beans, the nutty aroma of mung beans—all remain distinctly present. Sweetness serves as the backdrop, while the ingredients take center stage.

Sweetness travels along waterways: from Guangxi to Lingnan, sweet soups become life's comfort.

The rivers of Guangxi ultimately merge into larger waterways, flowing eastward to the bustling world of Lingnan. Sweetness flows with them: sugar travels from production sites to markets, from kitchens to streets, from family stoves to city-wide sweet soup shops.

In Guangzhou, sweet soup transcends being merely a “dessert”—it becomes a way of life: a refreshing bowl to satisfy cravings in the heat, a warm bowl to conclude the day in the cold. The reason sweet soups have maintained their foothold in the city isn't just their sweetness, but their meticulous craftsmanship—attention to texture, precise cooking times, and the harmonious interplay of ingredients.

You'll come to understand that the sweet soups people crave time and again aren't necessarily the sweetest, but the smoothest: delicately sweet without being bland, warm and comforting without cloying.

The reassurance of no additives: Simplify ingredients, lighten life.

Many favor traditional yellow sugar for sweet soups for a practical reason: it lends itself to “subtraction.” When prioritizing “no additives” in your diet, what you truly need isn't flashy labels but actionable daily strategies—

Return ingredients to simplicity: Let sugar handle sweetness without extra “theatrics.”

Keep sweetness restrained: Sweet soups are delicious even when subtly sweet.

Take control: Determine the sweetness yourself, not by relying on pre-set takeout recipes.

This is actually a more sustainable approach to “healthy sweetness”: not fighting sugar, but transforming it from ‘indulgence’ into “control.”

Three Kitchen Rules for Clearer, Healthier Sweet Broths

Rule One: Cook ingredients first, add sugar last

Once ingredients are fully cooked, add brown sugar. This allows sweetness to infuse deeply into the broth—avoiding floating crystals or cloying heaviness.

Rule Two: Melt gently over low heat, avoid vigorous boiling

The higher the heat, the harsher the sweetness; slow melting yields a softer, purer sweetness.

Rule Three: Start subtly sweet, then adjust lightly

The key to light sweetness is “reserving space.” Begin with a hint of sweetness, adding more only if needed—a satisfying sweet soup leaves you neither parched nor cloyed.

Three Deliciously Light-Sweetened Dessert Soups

1) Snow Pear & Silver Ear Fungus Dessert Soup: A refreshingly light starter

Method: Soak silver ear fungus, tear into small pieces → Simmer over low heat until gelatinous → Add snow pears and simmer 5–8 minutes → Add a small amount of rock sugar just before turning off the heat.

Key Point: Add sugar last to highlight the pear's natural aroma; the low sweetness level ensures smoothness.

2) Mung Bean Sweet Soup: Refreshing for Sweet Cravings Without the Guilt

Method: Rinse mung beans → Boil until split open, then turn off heat and let sit for 10 minutes → Reheat until tender → Add brown sugar to achieve mild sweetness.

Key Point: Steeping before reheating yields a cleaner bean flavor; chilling prevents cloying sweetness.

3) Red Bean Syrup: A satisfyingly drinkable option even with less sugar

Method: Soak red beans for 2–4 hours → Simmer over low heat until they become sandy and tender → Add brown sugar to taste.

Key points: Adjust sweetness after the beans become “sandy” for a richer texture; you can actually use less sugar.

(For winter warmth, add two ginger slices: simmer to release spiciness, then round out the flavor with brown sugar.)

Subtle sweetness is a preference worth sustaining.

Ancient wisdom speaks of “sweetness like honey”—meaning true delight comes from willingness. Today, we need a deeper understanding: sweetness needn’t be avoided, but savored with restraint.

From the sugarcane fields of Guangxi, through the smoky kitchens where syrup simmers, to the daily bowls of sweet soup in Lingnan—you'll discover that true sophistication in sweetness never means “more is better.” It's about a clean, simple, and satisfying taste; the reassurance of “no additives”; and a long-term approach to wellness: finding contentment in less, enjoying occasional sweetness without guilt.