Exploring Baishiling: Six Centuries in Southern Anhui's Last Untouched Ancient Village
As dawn breaks, a gauzy mist lingers. Standing on the winding mountain road at the foot of Guniu Peak in Shitai County, I gaze down at the valley below—whitewashed walls and black-tiled roofs nestle among the mountains, while a silvery stream winds through the village, its murmurs echoing through the valley. This is Baishiling, an ancient village settled here since the fourth year of the Hongwu era (1371) in the Ming Dynasty. Six hundred and forty-four years have quietly brushed past its horse-head gables, yet its unadorned beauty remains, like "a lotus rising from clear water, naturally free of artifice."
Two towering ancient trees stand like guardians at the village entrance. The six-hundred-year-old oak requires four or five people to encircle its trunk, its branches forming a dense canopy overhead. Nearby, a two-hundred-year-old nanmu tree already exudes a glossy, upright dignity. The stone plaques on their trunks, issued by the Shitai County government, are like medals bestowed by time. Granny Shu leans against the tree and smiles: "Our ancestors planted these when they migrated from Xi'an—seventy-two generations ago!" The deep roots mirror the Shu family’s enduring presence here.
Descending the stone-paved path beside the trees, a stone arch bridge spans the clear stream. The water is so transparent that the pebbles below appear polished like jade, while dark green waterweeds sway between the cracks. Crossing the bridge, a living Huizhou-style ink painting unfolds: faded walls, wild grass sprouting from tile seams, winding stone steps worn smooth by time and footsteps, and velvety moss carpeting the gaps. Most of the sixty-odd Ming and Qing-era houses now stand empty, yet wildflowers bloom defiantly amid crumbling walls—a poignant symbiosis of life and decay.
Wandering the labyrinthine alleys, I stumble upon a deserted courtyard. On a half-collapsed wall, neglected potted plants stubbornly sprout new green; in the cracked stone pavement, a wild orchid quietly blooms. Touched by this resilience, I crouch to caress them—Baishiling’s six-century breath never falters, speaking through its flora the secret of perpetual vitality.
On the western slope stands the village’s best-preserved relic: the Shu Family Ancestral Hall. Its three-courtyard layout hints at past grandeur. Though the rear stage has crumbled, standing in the front courtyard, one can almost hear the lingering melodies of Huangmei opera. "Village operas thrived here, and after Liberation, we even formed a touring Huangmei troupe," an elder reminisces, running his hand over the weathered pillars. Dust may obscure the hall’s carvings—phoenixes amid peonies, the "Three Friends of Winter"—but the artisans’ devotion still shines through.
Baishiling’s origins are legendary. It began not as a village but as a mountain stronghold against bandits. The Shu ancestors, drawn by the white cliffs and rugged terrain, relocated here for its auspicious feng shui. They built watchtowers into the slopes for defense. Traces of prosperity linger in the walls, while unique customs like the "Dancing Horse Lantern" festival still animate major celebrations today, their drums dissolving six centuries in an instant.
At the village’s eastern edge, I meet Uncle Shu returning from herb-gathering. Though he’s built a new house downhill, he climbs up daily. "Convenience below, peace above," he says, stroking his old doorframe like greeting an old friend. Only four households remain—elders like him, rooted to the land. At dawn, they push creaky wooden doors open, wash clothes by the stream, till terraced fields, and smoke pipes on their thresholds at dusk. A yellow dog curls at their feet as chimney smoke ribbons between horse-head gables, sketching the last silhouettes of China’s agrarian civilization.
At the entrance, grandmothers sell fresh tea and dried bamboo shoots. Buying tea unlocks memories: "How lively it was! Bridal palanquins paraded down these flagstones, matchmakers louder than gongs..." Their eyes sparkle, illuminating wedding customs long past. While cities race toward efficiency, Baishiling’s elders still live by the sun’s rhythm, etching "slowness" into life’s every fold.
This "hidden gem" has finally been discovered. In 2016, it became a photography and sketching base; in 2022, it joined China’s Traditional Villages list, prompting restoration. By 2023, upscale lodgings like "Origin Lodge" arrived—outwardly preserving antiquity, inwardly modern. Canadian visitor Julie marveled: "Here, you touch the soul of rural China." Cafés, bookshops, and revived intangible heritage performances now gently awaken the village.
As dusk falls, I depart. Behind me, golden twilight gilds the village. The stream still sings its Ming-era song, while warm light from lodge windows softly illuminates new hopes.
**Baishiling Travel Tips**
*Transport*: 1.5-hour bus from Shitai County or drive to "Xinlian Village, Dayan Township, Shitai County"
*Experiences*: Spring rapeseed terrace photography, autumn sketching, "Dancing Horse Lantern" festivals, selenium-rich mountain spring water
*Dining/Lodging*: No commercial facilities; arrange farm meals in advance. Stay at "Origin Lodge" (renovated heritage houses) or rent a home (~¥1000/year)
*Nearby*: Combine with Guniu Peak Scenic Area and Lotus Mountain’s Hundred Waterfalls