"We do not live on land; we live in time. Fields, streets, rivers, and houses are our companions in time."
The midday sun in Shenzhen was as intense as ever. Passing through the corridor of intertwining light and shadow at the South Gate, we made final preparations and boarded the bus. After four hours of a steady high-speed journey from Shenzhen North Station, mountains began to appear, starkly framing the horizon at the end of the road. The early sky was clear and azure, dotted with light, buttery-yellow clouds in the sunlight. As the announcements played, the train whistled into the station—Guilin West had arrived.
Gray clouds covered the sky, and fallen leaves blanketed the streets, as our second day began in a steady rain. Boarding a boat on the Li River heading to Yangshuo, the landscape—hazy with mist and crowned with lush mountains—drew us into a dreamlike state.
Veils of mist clung to the mountains, their forms softened by the rain. Sitting in the boat, gazing out at the verdant hills, we caught glimpses of sunlight piercing through clouds, casting silvery threads upon bamboo fronds. Silent and green, the river embraced the surrounding landscape in stillness—sandpipers darted across the gray sky, disappearing into the deep bamboo groves, our breath caught in awe.
Climbing to the third deck, we took in layers of distant peaks and jade-green water, a soft blue touched with mist, which brought to life the timeless charm of Chinese ink paintings—rich and balanced, with light and shadow interwoven. The misty rain veiled everything in a serene tranquility, drawing us into a gentle watercolor world.
The sights we once learned about in class now stood before us: ridged rock walls, sheer cliff faces, square stones on the river’s edge, and towering mountains in the distance. Guilin’s mountains, sculpted by nature’s hands, exhibit a unique blend of rugged majesty and delicate beauty, as vibrant foliage clings to multi-colored cliffs under the veil of moist air, leaving an impression of softness and mystery.
In the afternoon, we ventured to the Silver Cave, immersing ourselves in the surreal world of karst formations. Towering stalagmites, stalactites, and stone pillars unfolded before us, each illuminated in vibrant colors. The air was humid and warm, with the occasional drop of calcium-rich water falling coolly onto our heads. Neon lights played across the ancient formations, as if blurring time, while a green glow cast shadows over an underground river. How many falls has this river seen come and go?
The words “towering peaks” only begin to capture the strange beauty of this cave. Moving through it revealed one marvel after another: stone pillars hanging like sharp swords, stalagmites reaching out like sea dragons, and towering stalactites stretching endlessly skyward.
Night fell, and Yangshuo’s West Street, aglow with lights, took on a unique charm. Amidst the bustling crowds and cheerful calls of vendors, local specialties like beer fish steamed warmly on tables, while nearby shops brimmed with souvenirs, bright and welcoming.
The walk back to our hotel took us along winding corridors and arched bridges, with red lanterns casting a warm glow on the vermillion bridge railings. The lake rippled in golden waves as we walked under the moonlight.
The river is cold and still, the green hills vast, as we carry the moonlight home.
Near noon, we finally reached the entrance to the Longji Rice Terraces, surrounded by mountains. From the visitor center at the foot, we transferred to a scenic bus winding up the mountain. With the early autumn breeze carrying a hint of rice fragrance, the landscape unfurled outside the window—crisp grasses and gentle hillsides told of autumn’s splendor.
The rice terraces themselves were breathtaking. Soft sunlight cast golden hues across the land, while a fine mist lingered over the green hills. Looking down, we saw orderly patches of golden fields, the heads of rice heavy and drooping in the autumn wind.
The terraces represent a genius of human innovation, perfectly suited to the landscape. They reveal a harmonious coexistence between humans and nature, with terraced fields embracing the land’s natural curves to preserve soil and water, allowing life to flourish across generations. The opposite mountainside was dotted with fruit trees, each making optimal use of light and rainfall, tirelessly cultivated by local hands.
After listening to our teachers’ explanations, we divided into groups to interview local residents and visitors, discussing the changes and challenges brought by tourism. Slowing our steps, we observed the small beauties of the mountain: a child’s tricycle toppled under a banyan tree, an abandoned train car overgrown with vines, dandelions spinning in the breeze, and an elderly farmer with a load on his shoulders, journeying from one field to another. The most delightful find was a bamboo house at a turn in the path, framed by plantain trees and a gurgling stream flowing through bamboo pipes—a scene that would echo in our dreams long after we left.
Guilin’s landscapes, beautiful yet fierce, remain captivating but not always gentle. Enclosed and sheltered, its remoteness both guards it from the mundane and preserves a certain purity. Yet this isolation has brought poverty alongside rare beauty; its refusal of exchange yields treasures untainted by time. Complex and contradictory, it has long been isolated from the world—mountains and rivers, all at once the beginning of life and memory, both beautiful and perilous.
"We do not live on land; we live in time. Fields, streets, rivers, and houses are our companions in time."
Geography, in this sense, is a discipline encompassing all aspects of time. It explains the shifts of mountains and seas across eons, the cyclical seasons from harvest to bloom, and how people come and go, how buildings rise and fall, reborn in each era’s fervor. Human and physical geography work hand in hand, and as we live in time, we become explorers of its reasons and meanings.
Through light and shadow, mountains and rivers, villages and cities, these landscapes will forever reside in our hearts.
Article｜Dalros Wang
Pictures｜Aimee, Alice, Saisi
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