2021: Hidden Gems of Zhejiang – Boutique Stays, Authentic Flavors, and Unbeatable Scenery
D1-11.2: Self-drive Shanghai–Tonglu, via Luci Bay to Qinglongwu, visit Qinglongwu Yanyouji Capsule Hostel Bookstore, stay at Qizhu Qinglongwu Boutique B&B.
D2-11.3: Self-drive Tonglu–Songyang, walk Shimenwei Covered Bridge, stroll Songyang Old Street, explore Chenjiapu Village, stay at Yuan She Lan Shu in Songyang.
D3-11.4: Seek out Yangjiatang Village, self-drive Songyang–Taishun, via Zhuli She Village and Hongyan Twin Waterfalls, visit Wenxing Bridge, Xuaodi Ancient Village, stay at Lianyun Valley Hot Spring to enjoy Taishun’s radon springs.
D4-11.5: Check in at Taishun’s “Sister Bridges” in Sixi, self-drive Taishun–Yandang Mountain, tour Lingyan, stay at Jingfanju B&B in Yandang Mountain.
D5-11.6: Tour Lingfeng, self-drive Yandang Mountain–Linhai, savour Taizhou cuisine, visit Taizhou Prefectural City, stay at San Fu Yi Zhai B&B in Linhai.
D6-11.7: Morning hike on the Jiangnan Great Wall, afternoon return journey, self-drive Linhai–Shanghai.
Total self-drive distance: 1,400 km.
The pandemic halted my footsteps all over Japan, so in these two years I’ve been exploring my homeland in depth, from Hulunbuir on the northeastern frontier to Ejin Banner in the northwest, plus my ever-beloved southwest. Yet I seemed to have overlooked the scenery right around me. My bestie kept recommending Zhejiang’s mountains and waters, so I gathered a few old friends from past Japan trips and set off from Shanghai on a Zhejiang road trip. From Tonglu to Lishui, Wenzhou to Taizhou, let’s uncover the scenic gems deeply hidden in “Zhe” here! Zhejiang’s B&B scene is arguably the best in China, with many exquisite stays along the way — definitely something to relish. Plus, Zhejiang cuisine is a palate I adore, especially Taizhou seafood, which I always crave. My mouth waters just talking about it — let’s hit the road!
Friends gathered in Shanghai a day early and stayed at the JW Marriott Marquis Hotel Shanghai Pudong. The hotel commands an unbeatable Huangpu River view, its architectural design very stylish — already a popular Instagram spot in Shanghai. The round bathtub in the room, where you can soak while drinking in the window scenery, is an absolute treat. November’s sweet osmanthus is in full fragrant bloom, and ginkgo leaves are starting to turn gold; Jiangnan is entering autumn’s most colourful season.
Shanghai–Tonglu (300 km, approx. 4 hours)
Speeding along, we arrived in Tonglu at noon. Tonglu’s beauty is entirely natural — the graceful Fuchun River flows through the town, its wide waters splitting it in two. Mountains and water within the town, the town amid mountains and water, like a thousand-year-old scroll painting, a modern-day Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains. Ancient worthies came here in admiration and left reams of poetry: Su Shi praised, “After all the landscapes of the Three Wu, Tonglu still strikes as more serene and beautiful.” Verdant peaks upon peaks, crystal-clear streams, ancient villages and towns with Jiangnan’s signature tenderness and grace.
Alas, fewer tourists due to the pandemic. The lunch spot, Little Village Town · Tonglu Heritage Country Cooking, though ranked No.1 farmhouse restaurant, was nearly empty — but we feasted royally. The secret-recipe flower-braised chicken fell off the bone, the supreme fresh tofu was delicate, the sweet potato starch cakes soft and chewy, snails plump and clean, and local dried bamboo shoots wonderfully flavourful. Every dish won applause, to the point we could barely rise from the table.
After the meal, we drove to nearby Luci Bay for a digestive stroll. This is China’s first “slow life” experience zone, facing Yan Ziling Fishing Platform across the Fuchun River. Green mountains, clear waters, babbling streams, crisp air; the valley’s suspension bridge swayed gently in the breeze. The owner of a farmhouse had planted all sorts of succulents on the upper and lower floors — a perfect spot for summer splashing and heat escape, we heard.
Qinglongwu: a quaint, rustic hamlet nestled halfway up the Tonglu hills, about twenty households quietly set among mountains and waters, in a green valley with rammed-earth houses, enjoying its own seclusion. The mountain road was narrow… That reclusive vibe — like many Japanese villages — made you utterly forget the city. Today it’s China’s first art and design B&B village.
Our stay tonight: Qizhu Qinglongwu. It was originally the private clubhouse of Wu Guoping, founder of the restaurant chain Grandma’s Home, not open to the public, later taken over by the Qizhu brand owner and officially opened. Unlike B&Bs right by the road, to find Qizhu you must follow a path uphill, a stone-slab trail accompanied by a babbling brook, wildflowers and green grass on both sides, and an azure swimming pool that catches your eye — no hint of autumn bleakness. After calling ahead, the butler met us at the junction, directed us to park by the road, then led us with our suitcases — best to pack light. From the outside, it’s not luxurious or flashy; mud walls and grey tiles reveal rustic charm, a raw, primal beauty: rammed-earth walls, bamboo fences, a thatched pavilion in the yard, bamboo stools… Mountain mist hung heavy, tiers of bamboo forest, faint clouds draping the hillside, the stone path damp, velvet moss in the cracks. Air so invigorating you couldn’t help deep breaths.
Another Qinglongwu draw: the country’s first “book & bed” concept, Yanyouji Capsule Bookstore, winner of a 2020 architecture “Oscar.” Nearly 300 sqm, 25,000 books, transformed from the village chief’s old house, with a brilliant name — Fangyukong (“Release Words into Space”). One side a transparent double-height glass curtain wall, pulling the green mountains and bamboo forest indoors; at dusk, indoor lights glow out, warming the village’s quiet night. The other side keeps the village’s common rammed-earth walls, with mottled marks and faint slogans showing the overlap of old and new.
Inside, lattice bookshelves rise to the ceiling; décor simple and cosy, atmosphere hushed. A handful of visitors came and went quickly; soon only my friend and I were left, soaking in this ambience — never enough. On the hour, a staff member invited us upstairs to see the secret space: 20 capsule rooms hidden among two-storey book stacks. Split-level platforms linked by slender yet sturdy metal stairs, like a winding mountain path. Each capsule has its own name drawn from the sea of books; every word and phrase is the little room’s soul. Though small, they have all you need; comfort not matching a star hotel, but curling up alone brings a primal sense of security, like infancy. Rooms are divided into “Flowers” (women) and “Youth” (men), connected by a net that symbolises the tangled, confusing emotions of youth — soft but so strong that even a 200-pound person can safely cross.
Night fell. The butler took us to a pre-booked dinner at “Hua Lu.” The owner, we heard, was formerly the head chef at Grandma’s Home in Hangzhou; his wife adores cats and gardening. A winding path leads to a secluded spot, a meditation hut amid deep flowers and trees. The garden overflows with blossoms, hydrangeas everywhere. The couple grow flowers, dote on cats, cook, sip tea, host guests, far from the clamour — creating this poetic dwelling. Apart from B&B guests, they only receive pre-booked visitors for flower viewing, tea and fine food. Fragrant matsutake chicken soup, glossy braised pork with handcrafted rainbow buns, authentic Liangtouwu sausage, meltingly tender grouper, special Guanyin tofu and tofu wontons, sweet potato leaves… a feast. We were the only table that evening; the owner chatted warmly throughout, even brought out a homemade craft wine to share. A memory to savour.
Morning walk along Qinglongwu’s main road, seeking other artworks in the Fangyukong cultural complex: the Kizuna Hall, Watchtower, Cloud Stage, among others. A world-class art festival — the Setouchi Triennale director Fram Kitagawa’s “Earth Art Festival” — will soon land here. Hong Kong architect’s work, the Watchtower: materials from a dismantled old house in Zhaotong County, Yunnan, redesigned and rebuilt for the 16th Venice Architecture Biennale, now standing in a flower field here, radiating new life.
Japanese architect’s Cloud Stage: myriad thin bamboo poles woven into a roof canopy, like clouds undulating along the mountain, with light and shadow shifting through the walkway as day turns to night, blending into nature.
Renowned Chinese architect Yu Ting’s Kizuna Hall: China’s first all-carbon-fibre structure. The main body was woven by a single 7,200-metre continuous carbon-fibre thread over 90 hours with the help of a giant robotic arm, inspired by “red threads bonding communities.” Love and marriage are the themes it prompts; it’s like a flame you can step into, the carbon fibre being the matchmaker’s red thread.
Qizhu’s service was incredibly attentive: exquisite flower tea on arrival, a sweet evening treat, a portable foot-soaking bucket in the room (you can even bag it and take home). Breakfast was a rich spread, especially that soul-warming scallion-oil noodles — utterly irresistible. The housekeeper thoughtfully reheated our leftover sausage and wontons from yesterday. We lingered lazily, attracting a troop of stray cats who stared eagerly, waiting for a handout.
Qizhu has two separate but adjacent courtyards; we stayed in Courtyard 2, but Courtyard 1 is even more luxurious with more private space. The butler kindly showed us around. The simple signboard hung on a rough stone wall; turning a corner into the front yard, the view suddenly opens — stone slabs, pebbles, lawns spread before the little courtyard, sunlight casually casting beams on the wooden door. The two-storey rammed-earth building was draped in creepers. The back yard: a wide lawn, a mini-golf course, and a few stray kittens popping by to sniff flowers and chase butterflies, stretching lazily. On one side, a cantilevered swimming pool whose highlight is a transparent window in the pool wall — easy to snap dreamy underwater photos.
Tonglu–Songyang (200 km, approx. 2.5 hours)
A thousand-year-old county, idyllic Songyang. Since its founding in the Eastern Han, Songyang has over 1,800 years of history. Set in the mountains of southwestern Zhejiang, it’s a “living specimen of classical Chinese county” — 80% mountains, one water, one field, yet still home to over a hundred well-preserved traditional villages, perched on mountaintops, hidden in deep valleys, resting by clear streams, or tucked in bamboo forests. China National Geographic named it “the last hidden paradise of Jiangnan.” These 100-plus villages are not tourist attractions but breathing homelands; over 100 intangible cultural heritages are not in museums but in daily life, every hour.
First stop off the highway: Shimenwei Covered Bridge, a former concrete bridge nearly abandoned, now transformed into a wooden covered bridge spanning the Songyin River. It won a global lighting design “Oscar” — an Award of Excellence from the International Association of Lighting Designers. Slowly crossing, we saw the bridge roof open at the arches, light and shadow interplaying, the quiet of mountain scenery and water screens. Across the open water, the thousand-year-old Wuyang Weir lay quietly — 246m long, water arrested here, cascading in layers, a magnificent sight.
Songyang Old Street, also called Nanzhi Street, still retains over a hundred Ming and Qing dynasty houses: living upstairs, doing business downstairs. The street folk lead a leisurely, contented life, praised as a “living Along the River During the Qingming Festival.” Walking down the long, narrow street, you find many nearly extinct traditional workshops — sparks flying from a blacksmith’s shop, the fragrance of herbal medicines, a tailor making clothes by measure, steelyard makers, barbers, cotton fluffers, palm-bed weavers… all still quietly and methodically plying their trades. Many shopfronts display plaques “Idyllic Songyang, Intangible Cultural Heritage Shop.” These stalwarts of heritage crafts bear the glory of the old city; time seems to slow only here. Just wandering makes you feel transported to another era, afraid to disturb a thousand years of peace.
Almost every Songyang travel guide mentions that you must try the hand-pulled noodles at Baixian Noodle House on Songyang Old Street. It’s even been on CCTV. “One town, one family, one bowl of soul.” Husband and wife fire a wood stove to make noodles, a secret recipe passed down, selling a thousand bowls a day for a century. Four generations still insist on wood-stove cooking. Chewy hand-pulled noodles, soft but with bite. Toppings are just a few: pig intestine, pork chop, large pork cutlet, or egg. The wine-fermented marinated intestine is soft, clean, free of any off smell. Preserved mustard green omelette, crispy and fragrant. The owner, used to the constant stream of customers, worked away with busy hands while chatting with us. We helped feed the stove. When we asked if the next generation would take over, the elderly man heaved a sigh: young people aren’t willing. Someday, when the old couple can no longer work, this wildly popular noodle shop might exist only in memory.
Leaving the county, a stunning mountain road winds to the hilltop, arriving at Chenjiapu Village — a cliff-dwelling hamlet founded in the late Yuan, early Ming, over 600 years ago. Perched on three rolling ridges at about 850m altitude, the rocky cliffs are embraced by terraced fields, bamboo groves, ancient trees, and mountains. Ancestors cleverly used the terrain, building stone platforms to lift the houses; hundreds of dwellings step up the slope with a 200m elevation difference, forming a dramatic stepped traditional village. Being in a valley and cut off from the world, it’s independent and isolated. For more than 200 days a year, cloud and mist wrap the peaks: hovering clouds, half-veiling the waist; from afar like a sea of mist, up close like fairyland.
The Avant-Garde Bookstore, Chenjiapu Civilians’ Bookstore, is famous. Its building is the former Chenjiapu cultural hall, at the village’s core — a pearl on the cliff, a utopia at its peak. Passing the towering bookshelves in the centre, you reach the wide staircase on the west side, the store’s “finishing touch.” Beside the shelves is the real staircase to the second floor, as if proclaiming “books are the ladder to wisdom.” The other half is a cascade of platforms scattered with rush cushions, where you can sit, bathe in sunlight, and thumb through a book. Several huge glass windows become a highlight: looking out, the scenery is framed; looking at people, they seem part of a living painting. Whether holding a good book, sipping fragrant coffee, meditating dreamily, or gazing at distant hills embracing the breeze… whatever way, choose the one you like, leisurely, savouring a moment of your own space. A line on the second-floor terrace doorframe — “Please bow for knowledge” — made us chuckle.
Past tea fields and a reservoir, crossing a thousand-year-old stone bridge, completing a seemingly ritualistic path to cultivation, you reach our accommodation: Yuan She Lan Shu. Its predecessor was Langshu Ancient Village, once home to 181 households, later a desolate hollowed-out village, until Yuan She Lan Shu relit the lights among the forest, building a mountain-utopia. It was named one of the “World’s Top 10 Must-Sleep B&Bs of 2019.” The B&B follows the terrain in layered tiers; mountains and cloud seas, terraces and cottages, rammed earth and grey tiles, no extra ornament needed to create an exquisitely Zen mountain space. Nearly 100 metres of vertical drop means almost all rooms have sweeping mountain views. The mountain mist is ever-changing, impossible to guess its next form. Open the window and clouds slip in; floor-to-ceiling windows frame a borderless wild mountain scroll — it feels like sleeping in a top-tier sea of clouds, ethereal. Lan Shu’s neighbours: not just clouds and forests, but over 20 ancient trees two to three hundred years old, with stout trunks and majestic canopies — witnesses of time.
After parking, we messaged the butler, and someone helped with luggage. Even empty-handed, climbing the layers of steps was a little tiring. The cobbled path was damp and slippery; we tread carefully. A huge open-air infinity heated pool faced the vast mountain scenery; when water mist mingled with mountain mist, it felt like stepping into a fairyland, indistinct whether in water or clouds. As night fell, mountain mist slowly dispersed, and terraced tall buildings halfway up the hill shone with bright lights. Candlelight and tree shadows stood silent; only the murmuring of insects echoed, making it even more serene — exactly like the secret realm from Spirited Away!
I woke in the morning to bird song, pulled back the curtain to a wall of green mountains and drifting clouds. Clouds surged from the valley below, shifting and slowly dispersing. A day at Lan Shu starts the moment sunlight pours into the room, as if unfurling a stirring scroll: the eyes lit up by endless green. Push open the glass door and breathe in the fresh, pure air. Public amenities are abundant: viewing platforms everywhere allow no-dead-angle photo ops; Yun Duo Paradise is full of childish fun; the Streamside Bookstore looks like a glass box dropped off a cliff; the top floor has a mini-golf simulator… Though hidden deep in the mountains, the scenery and facilities are such that you could enjoy a leisurely yet engaging vacation without ever stepping out.
Yangjiatang Village, founded around 1655, has about 365 years of history. Nestled in a circular mountain hollow, embraced by ridges on both sides, facing west, with excellent feng shui. Though secluded, it’s a representative farming-and-reading culture village, where the tradition of tilling by day and studying by night has persisted since the village was built. At around 4pm, sunlight strikes the tiered, staggered houses with their mud walls, bathing the village in gold, dazzlingly so. National Geographic dubbed it the “Golden Potala Palace,” drawing flocks of photographers. Within the village, rows of Qing-era Qianlong period ancient buildings and layer upon layer of upward-reaching horse-head walls. The houses are all built of yellow mud; the original white lime coating has barely survived wind and rain, with only a few mottled patches left. Not many villagers remain, mostly elderly; the young have likely gone to the cities. A few plump yellow dogs idly lie by the roadside, faithfully accompanying their owners. When we arrived, the persimmons of Yangjiatang were just turning yellow and red; red-and-yellow fruit hung upside down from tall persimmon trees, swaying gently on slender branches.
Entering Yangjiatang, we were greeted by two ancient camphor trees with luxuriant foliage, over 1,200 years old, their roots intertwined, canopy reaching for the sky. Sturdy branches spread towards the village, like a giant umbrella sheltering all. Locals call them the “Husband and Wife Tree,” and together with another camphor at the slope entrance, the three camphors echo each other — through a thousand years of wind and frost, standing tall, silently guarding this land, the very soul of the ancient village. Often seen on Douyin: dappled sunlight, a farmer in a straw rain cape leading a plough ox, a local dog following, walking under the ancient camphors in the mist — a dream fabricated for city dwellers, illusory yet real, and it’s easy to fall under its spell.
Songyang–Taishun (160 km, approx. 3 hours)
Taishun is tucked away in the deep mountain valleys of southern Zhejiang, yet renowned for its radon hot springs and covered bridges — a piece of scattered dreamland strewn over the covered bridges, and a warm radon spring to wash away worldly din.
Zhuli She Village is a patch of green hidden in the Taishun mountains: rolling farmland, murmuring brooks, cottages full of She ethnic flavour. Tucked in bamboo groves is Taishun’s only Platinum-level B&B, Zhuli Yunxi, whose restaurant reputation is excellent, so we stopped for lunch. Originally planned an overnight stay, but during the pandemic Taishun doesn’t accept guests from outside the province, so we had to pass. The simple, elegant four-storey building, white walls with dancing bamboo shadows, thick bluestone platforms and a waterscape along the walls. I loved the yard: a large lawn, reclining on a deckchair under the sun, bamboo, clouds, stream, rice paddies. A thatched pavilion with gauze curtains for enjoying the view and tea in the cool. Unexpectedly, we arrived too late — the chef was out on business, so the aunties had to cook a few simple dishes themselves. Already dejected and expecting nothing, we were surprised by delicious food: lovely presentation of black rice, a super large plate of fried rice noodles, and amazing local taro and bamboo shoots — everything so good we had to clean the plates.
Taishun is known as the “Hometown of Covered Bridges in China,” with historical, artistic, and scientific value unmatched in Chinese bridge history. It has 33 ancient covered bridges, 15 of which, along with the “Shishui Stepping Stones,” are national-level protected cultural relics, the highest number in the country. In 2009, “traditional Chinese wooden arch bridge craftsmanship” was added to UNESCO’s List of Intangible Cultural Heritage in Need of Urgent Safeguarding. Taishun’s bridges have an unadorned beauty, with complex and changeable roof structures, flying, fluid lines, and light, agile upturned eaves — a unique aesthetic.
Wenxing Bridge spans the Yuxi River, built in 1857 (Qing Xianfeng 7th year). A stacked-beam wooden arch covered bridge. Legend says it was built by a master and apprentice. Before starting, they agreed not to use a single nail or iron piece, building simultaneously from both sides and meeting at the centre. The master followed the plan; the apprentice, to make his side sturdier, secretly added iron nails, increasing the weight of his side and tilting the bridge towards the side without nails. By completion, the shape was fixed. Thus Wenxing is the most oddly shaped of Taishun’s bridges — like a crooked spine, but this doesn’t detract from its beauty; it gives an inclination aesthetic akin to the Leaning Tower of Pisa — the “Leaning Tower of Covered Bridges.” However, on 15 September 2016, Typhoon Meranti’s floods swept away Wenxing, Xuezhai, and Wenchong bridges, all national treasures. Locals swiftly gathered the original components; after a year of restoration following the principle of “restore old as old,” the three bridges were re-erected. To faithfully record the extraordinary journey of restoration and heritage preservation, a two-storey Covered Bridge Memory Museum was built by Wenxing Bridge, displaying their birth, calamity, rescue, restoration, and rebirth. During our visit, government leaders happened to bring a delegation for a field inspection — a testament to the local government’s emphasis on covered bridges.
Xuaodi Ancient Village is one of Taishun’s best-preserved ancient villages. Its streets and lanes crisscross; cobbled paths run throughout, with ancient houses along both sides in well-ordered layers, interspersed with fields and vegetable patches — a typical mountain-village look of “fields in the village, village in the fields.” Ancient charm lingers, recalling the idyllic scene described by the poet Luo Yin: “mulberry fields thick, smoke from chimneys, chickens and dogs, scenery unique.” Most Xuaodi residents are surnamed Wu, not Xu. Legend says during the Xuanhe era of the Song, Xu Zhen led troops against rebels and died; when his coffin was brought home via Yuxi, his spirit manifested and sweet dew fell, turning the village from perennial drought to bountiful harvests. To commemorate, it was named “Xuao.”
With mountain, water, and deep heritage, Xuaodi’s most worth-seeing are its rich historical relics. There’s the Juren Mansion and Wenyuan Academy, symbolising the village’s “civil and martial” prowess: grand in scale, exquisite in structure, carved beams and painted rafters. Though time has weathered them, they remain well-preserved. Also, the thousand-year-old technique of making Wuyi red-yeast rice. With three celebrity couples filming the popular reality show “Happiness Trio” here, the village exploded in fame overnight. Their bulletin boards are still kept, and the couples’ dwellings have become boutique B&Bs, letting visitors enjoy a rare slow-mo time.
Passing Hongyan Tunnel, we stopped to see Hongyan Twin Waterfalls at the tunnel entrance. A designated parking lot is provided. Danxia red cliffs, with two upstream streams running parallel at the hilltop before leaping over a 60-metre cliff together. The waterfalls pound the boulders below; when water volume is high, the two merge into one. Also called “Husband & Wife Falls,” legend says a She ethnic young couple jumped here for loyal love.
As dusk deepened, we drove to Lianyun Valley Hot Spring. The resort nestles against mountains and valleys, with expansive canyon views. Taishun’s radon springs originate in the streams of the East China Grand Canyon, a rare high-temperature radon mineral spring, hailed as “the finest radon under heaven.” Water temperature stays around 62°C year-round; it’s Zhejiang’s only self-flowing hot spring, yielding over a thousand tons daily, containing over 40 trace elements. It has therapeutic effects on various ailments, especially skin beauty. In 2001, it was listed as a national-grade medical thermal mineral water for bathing. A buggy took us to the hot-spring villa; we changed into yukata and returned to the pools for a romantic night soak. “Immortal water, beauty’s bath” — these essences drawn from the earth are nature’s gift. Sixty-two outdoor themed pools dot the hillside; the trace elements plus beneficial Chinese herbs create genuine hot-spring wellness. Steam shrouded everything, eyes misty, as if in paradise. Strolling along the Japanese-style corridors, you feel transported to Spirited Away… Accompanied by the evening breeze, we picked a favourite pool, submerged fully into the warm water, fully relaxed, then sipped ginger tea. All fatigue swept away; a night of sound sleep was guaranteed.
Morning: sunlight glinted through curtain gaps. Pressing a button, we opened every window of the hot-spring room to a bucolic panorama. The huge floor-to-ceiling windows and glass brought the outdoor beauty in. A spacious courtyard surrounded by greenery, birdsong and flower fragrance. Stepping outside, we realised our villa area is completely linked with last night’s hot-spring pools; a few steps and we re-entered the pool zone. Early morning, not a soul in the pools. Gentle sunlight shimmered on every water surface. Climbing higher to survey — the infinity pool faced the continuous green hills and cliffs. Steam from the valley was slowly rising, the wild surroundings wrapped in clouds. Dew still clung to leaves, even on delicate spider webs, forming sparkling crystal beads, incredibly beautiful. Taking a deep breath of the valley’s fresh air, we enjoyed a hearty breakfast overlooking the whole hot spring — another energetic day.
Sixi’s “Sister Bridges” are the most representative among Taishun’s ancient covered bridges, hailed as “the world’s most beautiful covered bridges.” They are Beijian Bridge and Xidong Bridge, just 100 metres apart in Sixi Town. Xidong Bridge was first built in 1570 (Ming Longqing 4th year); Beijian in 1675 (Qing Kangxi 13th year). Legend says they were built separately by a master and an apprentice, hence very similar in design. The bridge body relies entirely on wood, no steel nails, a craft near extinction. It’s said that during great floods, water once topped the bridge yet the entire structure still stood — awe at ancient artisans’ skill.
Beijian Bridge spans the North Stream, like a rainbow. Its wooden arch structure is steeper; the roof ridges extend longer with more curve. The bridge deck was painted red, but time has faded it, leaving only historical mottling. Beside the bridge, ancient trees cast shade: a 1,200-year-old camphor and a 1,000-year-old Chinese tallow tree lean together. The flying eaves and mythical beasts on the roof flicker among swaying branches. The Black Tea House at the bridgehead stands silently, keeping watch over the bridge swaying in wind and rain. A path leads down from the cobbled road via stepping stones to the opposite bank. Stream water tinkles, crystal clear; green trees line the banks and reflect in the water. Emerald water, covered bridge, ancient trees harmonise. Looking back from the stepping stones, the red-painted bridge body contrasts perfectly with green hills and clear water — as if stepping into a Song dynasty painting. At Beijian’s tail end stand three marble statues, the reconstruction initiators who led local folk to build the bridge, over ten feet tall, poised and righteous.
Taishun–Yandang Mountain (80 km, approx. 1.5 hours)
Learning from yesterday’s lunch lesson, today we called the lunch restaurant — Zui Ai — before setting off. Zui Ai is right on the main road in Xianglingtou Village. The boss was very welcoming, assuring us the chef would be on duty. He didn’t disappoint, maintaining the high culinary standard of our trip: stream shrimp, snails, and fish — fresh and tasty; salt-and-pepper baby potatoes crispy and fragrant; and a special hairtail fish fried rice, aromatic but not greasy. Local rice cakes were soft, sweet and chewy.
Known as “Famous Mountain on the Sea, Unrivalled Wonder in the World,” Yandang Mountain is one of the “Three Mountains and Five Great Mountains” of China, historically “the foremost mountain of the Southeast,” a famous World Geopark and filming location for many works like The Return of the Condor Heroes, Nirvana in Fire, and Legend of Fuyao. Formed 120 million years ago, it’s a typical Cretaceous rhyolitic ancient volcano, called a “natural museum” by geologists. A lake on its summit, with vast reed marshes, attracts wild geese in autumn, hence the name “Yandang” (Wild Goose and Reed Marsh). Developed since the Northern and Southern dynasties, it flourished in Tang and Song, revealing its mysterious, beautiful appearance to the world and drawing countless visitors to explore antiquities. Here, handsome peaks compete, waterfalls float gracefully, curious caves are scattered everywhere, deep forests spread far and wide, and emerald pools hide between. The “Three Wonders” — Dalongqiu, Lingfeng, and Lingyan — are world-renowned. Lingfeng’s daytime views are diverse, its night scenery dreamlike — the essence of Yandang. Lingyan is considered Yandang’s “Ming Court,” praised as “Yandang crowns the world, and Lingyan is especially marvel.” Dalongqiu ranks among China’s Four Great Waterfalls (with Huangguoshu, Hukou, and Diaoshuilou), acclaimed “the finest waterfall under heaven.” The scenic area is visitor-friendly: self-drive allowed, no parking fee, free shuttle buses, and tickets are per attraction, not a single general entrance. Unfortunately, the pandemic meant pitifully few tourists, much to the chagrin of local villagers who make a living guiding.
Lingyan (ticket ¥50/person) is the smallest of the “Three Wonders,” yet packed with wonders: bizarre peaks and crags, flying waterfalls and tranquil pools, ancient temples, cliff inscriptions. Every peak stands unique, every waterfall dashes wildly. There’s the descending Xiaolongqiu, the Heartbreak Cliff where Xiaolongnü jumped, and above all, the intangible heritage Lingyan High-Wire Show. At the entrance, cliff inscriptions by renowned figures ages ago, and a statue of Ming traveller Xu Xiake, who visited Yandang three times and praised it endlessly. Under Pingxia Peak lies the thousand-year-old Lingyan Temple, first built in Northern Song, the highest-ranking among Yandang’s temples, the foremost of eighteen temples, called “the foremost temple of the Southeast.” Apricot-yellow walls, grey-green roof ridges, surrounded by peaks and ancient trees, bathed in blue skies and white clouds — an environment of profound serenity, incense smoke adding solemnity.
Wenzhou’s Yueqing is the “Hometown of China’s Dendrobium.” The dendrobium culture has a long history. In the old days, villagers risked their lives scaling cliffs on ropes to harvest the herb. Over time, this skill evolved into a stunt spectacle — the Lingyan High-Wire Show. No need to buy tea seats; you can see it clearly from the lawn in front of the temple or on the way up. First the descent show: a tiny red dot leaps from the 270-metre-high Tianzhu Peak, plummeting by jumps and leaps on two ropes like Spider-Man, collecting herbs, bouncing every few metres like a bird pecking. Minutes later, the traverse show begins from Tianzhu’s peak, crossing 250 metres on a steel wire to Zhanqi Peak. The performer on “the world’s highest stage” does somersaults, sprints, even lies down sleeping on the wire. The most heart-stopping moment: hanging upside down, feet hooked to the rope, and suddenly diving headfirst — spectators gasp and shriek.
Wolong Valley is another Lingyan highlight. The terrain is steep, peaks soar. Endless beauty at the perilous summit. We climbed the cliff walkway, occasional spring water sprinkling overhead. Halfway up, a glass walkway on the cliff face appears; walking on it, you overlook the whole Xiaolongqiu. Compared to the magnificent Dalongqiu, Xiaolongqiu (“Little Dragon’s Pool”) lives up to its name: less grandeur, more grace. On coral-coloured rock, a white silk hangs between lush greenery and mist, a drop of over 50 metres. The waterfall’s shape is airy and agile, splashing like pearls and flying jade, plunging into a crystalline green pool, with rainbow hues in the sunlight. Even more enchanting is “Heartbreak Cliff,” made famous as a filming location for Zhang Jizhong’s The Return of the Condor Heroes. Surrounded by cliffs, this is where Xiaolongnü leaped. Behind it is Longkou Lake, a mysterious blue, with the Goddess of Mercy statue standing in the centre, serenely blessing all beings.
From Lingyan we moved to Lingfeng. Parking at Lingfeng’s car park, the Xiegongling Village on the right was where our B&B lay. The butler, contacted in advance, awaited us there, leading us through a paifang and into the village. Jingfanju, the first Gold-rated B&B in Yandang area and even the whole Yueqing region, offers Lingfeng’s beauty right from its terrace. If staying in the top-floor starry room at night, the starry sky feels within reach. We four had the entire B&B to ourselves. The butler was meticulous; breakfast and the goodnight sweet treat were equally exquisite — preserved vegetable wheat cake, white fungus soup, even the side dishes and dried shrimps felt like home.
The much-praised Lingfeng nightscape is the peak of Yandang’s charm. Under nightfall, peaks transform as you move: a rhinoceros gazing at the moon, an eagle spreading wings, a flying maiden — as if entering a free, mysterious, warm, and beautiful dream. Since I had admired it years ago, tonight we just rested well!
Lingfeng (ticket ¥45/person) is Yandang’s eastern gate. It has all: peaks, crags, streams, waterfalls, temples, pavilions, bridges, memorial archways. Stepping in, you feel like entering a realm of martial arts and chivalry, beautiful with an inherent proud, knight-errant spirit. In the centre is a winding valley called Mingyu Stream, whose most famous moss-covered ancient bridge is Guohe Bridge, built in 1902 (Guangxu 28th year). Under it, Ningbi Pool is crystal clear. By the bridge are Guohe Rock and Guohe Pavilion, the “Three Scenes of Guohe,” frequently featured in Chinese costume dramas. With the turquoise water and arched bridge, creepers twining, and towering stone peaks all around, it looks like a sect’s stronghold, with the momentum of one man holding the pass against ten thousand.
Hezhang Peak is one of Yandang’s iconic spectacles, about a hundred zhang high, encircled by surrounding peaks, like a giant palm thrust into the clouds. Inside the peak are striking cliff inscriptions by notable figures, and the mysterious, incense-wreathed “Top Cave of Yandang” — Guanyin Cave. Guanyin Cave and Beidou Cave are known as the two great caves of Lingfeng, with the serene Baiyun Nunnery to the left. Guanyin Cave was formed naturally by volcanic eruptions and geological processes; 113m high, 76m deep, 14m wide, you climb 403 steps to reach the main hall at the top — Yandang’s biggest cave. Ancient builders cleverly used the cave’s form, erecting a nine-tiered pavilion inside without altering its shape, blending with natural beauty — the top cave of Yandang, a masterful integration of human and natural aesthetics. Looking out from the cave’s top, you see fantastic scenery. Light angles make the overlapping ridges and encircling peaks shift into ever-changing beauty. Every snapshot is breathtaking natural grandeur.
Yandang Mountain–Linhai (80 km, approx. 1.5 hours)
Xin Rong Ji has become well-known in recent years for its multiple Michelin stars, and its name might be bigger than Taizhou’s. It’s impressive that one restaurant could popularise Taizhou cuisine nationwide, letting foodies across the country taste the flavours of the East China Sea. But Xin Rong Ji actually started as a seafood stall in Linhai, and now almost dominates the local dining scene. The Linghu Lake branch in Linhai is its flagship. From the original Xin Rong Ji, to the more accessible Rong Xiao Guan, the manor-style Rong Zhuang, the snack version Rong Jia Xiao Chi — every tier is available. Dining here on the whole Xin Rong Ji series is possible, at a much higher value than in Shanghai. No wonder Shanghai foodies take the high-speed train on a pilgrimage.
Leaving Yandang, we headed straight to Rong Zhuang, a typical manor-style restaurant. Stroll and see greenery, sit and hear birds. Not near the city centre, its entrance: two rows of stone piers, red brick and wood doors; inside, a neat green lawn. A low-key, private Jiangnan courtyard. Many local newlyweds love holding weddings here.
Entering the main hall, the décor resembles Xin Rong Ji, a touch of familiarity. Open-kitchen ordering. A must-try special: Baishuiyang tofu, seemingly plain but incredibly delicious — a faint wood-fire flavour, never mushy no matter how long cooked, full of tenderness. Salted pork and fresh prawns create a savoury broth; the tofu soaked in it lifts your brows in flavour.
Seafood goes without saying: home-style braised pomfret with rice cakes is my favourite — the delicate fish, the chewy, flavour-absorbing rice cakes, one bite and satisfied. The classic sand-suan roasted bean vermicelli is a Xin Rong Ji signature, very Taizhou-esque. Many don’t know what sand-suan is; actually it’s a sea creature, sea anemone, combined with bean vermicelli for a fresh, creamy, and chewy delight — not fishy even eaten alone. Plus the appetiser savoury tofu pudding, flavour-packed radish and bamboo shoot skins, seasonal youdong greens, soft and tender noodle fish and twitch-mouth fish, plump snails… So many delicious dishes that we returned for another meal at noon the next day before departure.
Though named Linhai (“Facing the Sea”), it’s not coastal. Founded in the Eastern Jin, with Taizhou Prefecture established in the Tang, the core of Linhai, Taizhou Prefectural City, has over 2,000 years of history. At the foot of Jin Mountain, by the Ling River, Ziyang Street is Linhai’s premier ancient street. Every brick, tile, door, window, wall seems to speak of time.
We stayed at San Fu Yi Zhai B&B, deep in the ancient alley “San Fu Ji” west of Xingshan Gate. It leans on the Taizhou Prefectural City Wall and borders Ziyang Ancient Street. The white-walled, black-tiled Jiangnan building is simple and neat. Thick creepers on the wall complement the bluestone path charmingly. The uniquely designed courtyard exudes a subtle ancient charisma, letting guests touch the Great Wall right outside their doors and sense history. Legend says this was once home to the Wang family, whose four members “achieved jinshi and three became governors” – hence “San Fu Ji” (Three Governors’ Base).
The Taizhou Prefectural City Wall has seven gates, each with a corresponding gatehouse: Lansheng Gate, Chonghe Gate, Zhenning Gate, Wangjiang Gate, Jingyue Gate, Xingshan Gate, Chaotian Gate. Behind each gate lie the ancient city’s thousand autumns and today’s peace and prosperity. Entering from Xingshan Gate, passing through the barbican, you reach Ziyang Ancient Street, 1,080 metres long, named after the founder of the Southern School of Taoism, Ziyang Zhenren Zhang Boduan. Formed in Tang and Song, it was once the most bustling street, home to many century-old time-honoured shops. Buildings and street surface still retain the Song style and Ming-Qing layout, with over a thousand years of lived-in atmosphere. However, Typhoon Lekima in 2019 hit hard — the old city was severely flooded, and you can still find markers on the walls recording the flood line over 1.8 metres. Ziyang Street is lined with shops, plus many ancient residences, buildings, and wells. The former site of the People’s Bank of China is the birthplace of banking in the prefectural city. The “Two-Eyed Well” at the Sigu Lane intersection dates at least to the Qianlong era. Its well wall was built with bricks bearing yin Buddha images, hence “Thousand-Buddha Well,” though time has worn the images smooth.
Longxing Temple stands east of Xingshan Gate, founded in 701 AD (Tang Shenlong 1st year), nearly 1,300 years ago. Master Jianzhen stayed here on his fourth voyage east; Japanese Master Saichō also studied Buddhism here before returning to found the Japanese Tendai sect. Thus Longxing is the ancestral temple of Japanese Tendai Buddhism and a template for Japanese temples. It has been destroyed and rebuilt several times, but the Thousand-Buddha Pagoda inside is an original Yuan structure, one of only two Yuan pagodas remaining in Zhejiang. Seven storeys and six sides, each brick and niche carved with Buddha figures, totalling 1,003 — exquisitely shaped, superb craftsmanship, awe-inspiring.
Leaving Longxing Temple, we climbed steps alongside the city wall to continue exploring Jin Mountain’s stories. Tianning Temple backs onto a cliff, built into the terrain. Jin Mountain, a sacred place of the three teachings, overlooks the Ling River in front and embraces the ancient city below — a uniquely auspicious site. Though less than 100 metres high, it houses eight temples and features four pagodas: twin pagodas on the west slope and twin on the summit, rising and falling, standing together — “Jin Mountain Pagoda Groups,” a symbol of Taizhou’s cultural prosperity.
Taizhou is famously delicious far and wide. It shares some culinary structure similarities with another foodie paradise, Chaozhou: both by mountains and sea, extremely rich in produce. Linhai especially, with over 141 kinds of snacks, is dubbed the “Kingdom of Food”: seaweed cake, wheat shrimp, wheat cake, flat dumplings, black rice mochi, cuttlefish sausage… and the recently viral high-appearance cultural ice cream — just a pity it’s more looks than taste.
Seaweed cake: thin skin stuffed full, crumbly texture, intense seaweed fragrance. At first light, the seaweed cake shop was already a bustle; they seemingly never close. The aroma of freshly baked seaweed travels far. Queues at Wang Tianshun and Jiujiu never cease. Wang Tianshun is a time-honoured brand with over 120 years and four generations, but when CCTV visited, it was closed — thus accidentally making the neighbouring Jiujiu’s reputation. Both are 1.5 yuan each. Fresh from the oven, they’re at their crispiest: a crunch, skin scattering everywhere. First hot bite is amazingly crispy, the filling warm and smooth, with a marine and oil fragrance. Eat enough, then pack: rolled in crude oil paper, sealed with paste, take home, ready to nibble with a cup of hot tea anytime.
