In the deep mountains of southern Zhejiang, find a place forgotten by time, cool and refreshing
Shunxi: In the deep mountains of southern Zhejiang, find a place forgotten by time, cool and refreshing
As the car turns onto the mountain road, the noise outside gradually fades away. The winding mountain road climbs upward, layers of green pressing in from all sides. Opening the car window, the breeze is cool, carrying the scent of grass, trees, and earth. I know Shunxi is near.
This is an ancient town hidden deep in the mountains of Pingyang, Wenzhou. There are no entrance fees, no crowded crowds—only a clear stream flowing through the town, dyeing the summer a refreshing shade of turquoise.
Walking into Shunxi, the first thing you see is the water. The water of Shunxi is clear and gently green. A stepping-stone bridge spans the stream, its stone piers smoothed by time. Water flows through the cracks between the stones, splashing white foam. Elderly villagers steadily carry their loads across; young women in Hanfu carefully lift their skirts on the stone piers. The moment the shutter clicks, time seems to overlap—on some evening a hundred years ago, was there also a woman pausing here?
The soul of the ancient town is hidden in the tall white walls and black tiles. The Chen Family’s Fourth Branch Mansion is the best-preserved Qing Dynasty residence in southern Zhejiang. Pushing open the creaking wooden door feels like stepping into the past. The moss in the courtyard shines bright green, sunlight pours down from above, casting mottled shadows on the exquisite wooden carved window frames. What moved me most was the “Yizhi Higher Girls’ School”—over a hundred years ago, girls from the mountains came here to learn to read and write. Standing before the empty wooden window, I almost hear the crisp, determined voices of students from long ago.
The old street is short, just 500 meters of bluestone pavement, still preserving the truest scenes of daily life. In the goldsmith’s shop, an old craftsman wearing glasses hammers away; outside the grocery store, bamboo baskets and straw hats are displayed; a calico cat curls up on the doorstep, dozing. When someone passes by, it lazily lifts its eyelids, then goes back to sleep. There are no mass-produced tourist souvenirs here, only the way locals live their lives.
If you think Shunxi is only about old houses and the old street, you’re mistaken. Further into the mountains lies a secret place called Zhiyin Stream. Walking upstream along the creek, you’re shaded by trees, sunlight filtering through leaves in dappled patterns. When tired, suddenly you hear the rumbling of water—Baiyun Waterfall plunges from over 170 meters high, cascading in three tiers. Mist sprays your face, and a rainbow arches in the sunlight. Below the waterfall is a jade-green pool, crystal clear to the bottom. Unable to resist, I took off my shoes and dipped my feet in; the coolness surged up from my soles, refreshing my whole body.
Even more surprising, next to the mountain waterfall is a café. Sitting by the stream, listening to the water, sipping a milk tea made with Pingyang’s yellow soup, watching sunlight dance through the leaves. At this moment, there’s nothing to think about—just feeling one with the mountains and water.
Speaking of Shunxi, you can’t miss the Huang Rice Cake. This rice cake, dyed yellow with gardenia plants, carries a faint aroma of grass and ash. Locals say the water in Shunxi is good, so the rice cakes taste better. Whether stir-fried or boiled in soup, the soft yet chewy texture is unforgettable. Also, freshly caught small fish from the stream, braised until even the bones are crispy; Pingyang fried rice noodles paired with cured meat and dried shrimp, the more you chew, the more fragrant it gets.
At dusk, sitting on the stone steps by the stream, watching the sun slowly sink behind the mountains. The clouds at the horizon turn orange-red, reflecting in the water, bathing the whole ancient town in gentle light. Some camp by the stream, pitching tents and lighting bonfires; others play with children in the shallow water, their laughter carried far by the flowing creek.
At this moment, I suddenly understand: the beauty of Shunxi isn’t in any specific attraction, but in this slow-flowing way of life.
If you want to find a place to shed your fatigue and slow down your days—come to Shunxi.
Here, there is crystal-clear water, mottled old walls, ancient wooden doors, and mountain waterfalls. Most importantly, no one rushes you. You can sit on the stepping-stone bridge and daydream all afternoon, or follow the stream slowly, going wherever it leads.
Shunxi is a place where you can waste time with peace of mind.