Follow the songs and embark on a dreamlike journey through Quanzhou.

Twelve Hours in Quanzhou: A Poetic Journey Through Time At dawn, the Luoyang Bridge is shrouded in mist. As the tide recedes, the tidal flats shimmer. The moonlight from 800 years ago seems to still flow between the oyster-reinforced bridge piers. This stone bridge has stood the test of time, using the sea breeze as its pen to write the epic of the Song and Yuan maritime history. The story of Quanzhou unfolds slowly between dawn and dusk. In the early morning, sunlight spills onto the dome of the Qingjing Mosque on Tumen Street, and the prayer hall seems to hold the echoes of camel bells from Persian caravans. Incense curls from the Guan Di Temple on the street corner, where Taoist eaves stand next to the Islamic dome. Pigeons fly over Kaiyuan Temple, where Hindu stone pillars and flying musicians whisper beneath Tang Dynasty brackets. Different faiths intertwine here. In the afternoon, diamond-shaped spots of light dance on the colonnades of the arcade houses on West Street, and the signs of century-old shops sway gently. In front of a noodle stall, a grandmother ladles shrimp-shell broth into bowls, where oysters and vinegar-marinated pork unfold like a painting. The aroma of coffee drifts from Goldfish Alley, craftsmen repair the gargoyles, and the sounds of Nanyin pipa music intertwine with the swirls of latte art. In the late afternoon, the sea breeze in Xunpu Fishing Village whips through the stray hairs around the flower-studded hairpins, and the oyster-shell walls shimmer. Fisherwomen weave gold-foil headdresses, expressing their hopes for a safe return. At the ancient ferry crossing of Zhenwu Temple, the tide washes over the ruins of the Maritime Trade Bureau, where fragments of Dehua white porcelain appear and disappear like a secret code of the Maritime Silk Road. In the evening, the lanterns of the Tianhou Palace night market light up, and bowls of agar-agar jelly resemble the starry sky, while ginger duck tumbles in clay pots. Beneath the walls of Linzhang Gate, marionettes reenact Zheng He's voyages to the West. Longan trees bear fruit in the crevices of the city walls, and the moonlight casts the Ming Dynasty nautical charts onto the ripples of the Jinjiang River. At midnight, the bell tolls fade away beside the Laojun Rock on Qingyuan Mountain, but the "Museum of World Religions" remains awake. Twenty-four heritage sites twinkle like stars. Quanzhou teaches travelers to blend the rhythms of different civilizations into the cadence of life.