If You Haven’t Visited Yandu Ancient City, You Haven’t Truly Experienced Yi County
The poetry imprinted in footsteps is entirely different from that penned between the lines. The beauty of the latter lies in imagination, painting a magnificent tapestry of colors between black words on white paper; the former, however, sets that brilliance right before your eyes, offering a tangible experience. In a way, the two are interconnected and give rise to each other. For instance, one might plan a journey inspired by a passage, or seek out books because of a certain scene. People are never confined to a single way of seeking poetry—they only care about the result, the final feeling. But for those who love to touch the real world, they’d rather go in search of places that spark exquisite words, to immerse themselves in that vivid, firsthand sensation. And Yandu Ancient City is precisely such a magical place. It makes you want to follow the threads of words all the way from imagination to reality.
Color is perhaps the most direct way to feel something. On sunny days, the azure sky rolls with wisps of cloud, clarity mingling with brightness, revealing the city's splendor to the fullest. Sapphire, turquoise, vermilion, olive green, ivory—deep and light shades interweave into a gorgeous spectacle that dazzles the eyes. On overcast, rainy days, though everything is cast in a gloomy veil, the ancient city’s charm shines even brighter in the misty drizzle. Grey tiles and white walls, understated yet full of grace; strolling through with an oil-paper umbrella, you feel as if you’ve stepped into ancient Jiangnan—truly a scene of 'apricot blossoms shivering in the misty rain.'
At dawn, the first cockcrow awakens the early morning, and light spills across the horizon, illuminating the sleeping city. Barks, shouts, car horns scatter and blend, spreading silently into every lane and alley, gradually becoming the everyday morning. As dusk falls and faint light gleams like gold, the bustle of homecoming arrives with time: children’s laughter as they run and play, the sizzle of night-market barbecues, crowds gathering from all directions—a lively clamor that forms the sound of the ancient city at night.
Walking along the streets, an unnamed floral fragrance clings to you, rich and evocative; sitting idly by the Yishui River, you’re enveloped in a unique watery scent, so memorable it’s hard to forget; sheltering under the eaves as rain falls, you breathe in the crisp, earthy aroma, refreshing and invigorating. Passing a food stall, spices artfully mingle, sizzling over ingredients to release mouthwatering scents; sitting in a teahouse, tea leaves meet water at the perfect temperature, filling the room with a subtle, lingering fragrance. And when savoring a meal, you can detect the natural breath of deep mountains in every bite.
The ancient city is beautiful—there’s the craftsmanship of artisans, the lush beauty of nature. Even a casual snapshot is a masterpiece. But to truly taste it and capture that stirring feeling, you have to set foot here yourself.
