In southern Xinjiang, China, lies a magical land, nestled like a piece of jade between the Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau and the South China Sea. Free from the hustle and bustle of Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou, it boasts breathtaking karst peaks and forests. Unlike the Jiangnan region, revered by literati and poets, it harbors some of the world's most beautiful pastoral landscapes. Its dialect, difficult to understand and often intimidating to outsiders, fosters a simple and heartwarming human life. Guangxi, a region often fleetingly passed by travelers, is truly China's most underrated secret of mountains and rivers.
Guangxi's beauty lies first and foremost in its very bones—its unparalleled karst landscapes. As the plane touched down at Guilin Liangjiang Airport, peering out the window, countless emerald green shoots suddenly emerged from the folds of the earth, the crystallization of eons of rainwater and limestone. When Xu Xiake visited this area, he wrote in his "Diary of a Journey in Western Guangdong": "Looking around, I see only stone peaks, not a single earthen mountain to mingle." These stone peaks resemble green torches casually planted in the earth by a giant's hand, each with its own unique posture. The peaks and forests along the Li River are reflected in the clear water, forming the world's longest natural ink painting. Even more astonishing is that these stone peaks are not static sculptures—as the boat sails, their contours constantly shift, and the same peak can appear completely different from different angles. The "nine horses" on the Nine Horses Painting Mountain require considerable imagination to count, perhaps a gentle joke from nature.
If the karst landforms are the bones of Guangxi, then the crisscrossing rivers are the blood coursing through its body. The Li River, Liu River, Zuo River, and You River—rivers with poetic names—are like silver threads connecting scattered jade. In Chongzuo's Mingshi countryside, the river's most captivating expression unfolds. Amidst the morning mist, Zhuang women paddle bamboo rafts downstream. Rice paddies on both sides glow with fresh green, and the silhouettes of distant mountains soften in the mist. Time seems to slow down here. Meanwhile, at Beihai Silver Beach, the waters embody Guangxi's tenderness in a different way. The soft white sands gleam silver in the sun, and the ripples left by the receding tide resemble the ocean's fingerprints. Guangxi's waters possess character, ranging from the gentle gentleness of the Li River to the majestic grandeur of Detian Waterfall. This largest transnational waterfall in Asia, thunders with force during the rainy season, its mist drifting hundreds of meters. Standing on the observation deck, you're greeted not only by the mist but also by a soul-stirring awe of nature.
In this magical land, twelve indigenous ethnic groups write their own stories. Entering Sanjiang Dong Village, the first thing that greets you is the wind and rain bridge, built without a single nail. The Dong people's use of mortise and tenon joints not only builds bridges, but also embodies the wisdom of living in harmony with nature. In front of the Drum Tower, elderly people sang polyphonic Dong folk songs, their complex harmonic system astonishing even musicologists. Meanwhile, at the Longji Rice Terraces, the Yao people have carved one of the world's most spectacular agricultural landscapes on a mountain ridge over a thousand meters above sea level. During spring flooding, the terraces resemble countless mirror fragments stitched together on the hillside; in autumn, when the rice harvest arrives, they transform into golden waves cascading down from the mountaintops. These peoples' understanding and reverence for nature constitute the deepest cultural layer of Guangxi. I remember in an unknown Zhuang village in Jingxi, I saw women still weaving Zhuang brocade on ancient looms. They said they learned the patterns from their mothers, and from their mothers' mothers. This intergenerational inheritance of skills is more vibrant than any museum exhibit.
Guangxi's magic lies in its constant supply of unexpected surprises. In the Leye Tiankeng complex, you'll suddenly discover a whole world beneath the surface: virgin forests flourish at the "bottom of the pit," and occasional sunlight filters through the caverns, like a spotlight cast from heaven. On Weizhou Island, the stark contrast between the volcanic rock and the azure sea and sky creates a trance-like feeling, as if one has arrived in the Mediterranean.
As night falls, stand atop the Dragon Elephant Pagoda on Qingxiu Mountain in Nanning and gaze out over the city. In the distance, skyscrapers glow brightly, while nearby, the Yong River flows quietly. Here, modernity and tradition reach a tacit reconciliation. This is perhaps Guangxi's most precious quality—it embraces progress while always maintaining an inherent composure. While tourists who take a fleeting glimpse take away only postcard-worthy scenery, those who truly understand Guangxi will discover a philosophy of life here: as resilient as the karst peaks, as gentle as the Li River, as joyful as Zhuang folk song festivals, and as time-tested as traditional broth.
