AIAI-assisted translation·Read the source version
On the second day of the last month of summer, I left Guiyang and travelled west to Qianxi. The drive took a little over an hour. From there I continued along distant mountain roads for another hour before reaching Zhijin. Guizhou is a country of mountains and crossing valleys, its roads winding upon themselves; places close on a map may still demand a long journey.
At Zhijin I rode to the foot of the mountain, walked a little over a hundred paces, and changed vehicles once more to reach the mountainside and the cave entrance. The opening was broad and crowded with visitors. Even before entering, cold air pressed against the body. Though the entrance lay among the mountains, voices mingled without cease: this was no secluded place.
Inside the passage, the rock walls were damp and the cold deepened. The path twisted into darkness, leading towards another hidden realm. After several dozen paces the space suddenly opened; looking upwards, I seemed to stand inside an immense hall. It brought to mind the Daoist notion of a grotto-heaven and blessed land, unlike any ordinary landscape.
Daylight from outside disappeared entirely, and strange rocks stood in the gloom. Stone columns rose like towers; others hung like bells and drums. Their forms were too numerous to describe. Great boulders lay across the space, oddly shaped, still carrying the marks of nature’s carving after millions of years of water against stone.
Stalactites descended from the roof, accumulated over ages like curtains of jade. Stalagmites rose from the ground in irregular ranks, traces left by ancient seas and the transformations of the earth. Only by looking up at their height and down across their breadth could I understand that such a vast world was concealed inside the mountain.
The cave extends for several li, turning back upon itself, and walking through it resembles climbing a mountain. Visitors followed one another without interruption. It was rarely possible to stop and observe. No sooner had I begun to examine one sight than the flow of people carried me onward. I saw its magnificence, yet could not escape the regret of viewing flowers from horseback.
The cave lighting was largely blue and red. It made the rocks appear more fantastic, but diminished their natural character: rich in spectacle, lacking in restraint. To me it resembled an underworld illusion and obscured the original beauty of the stone. A faint light that allowed the rock’s own colour to emerge might have come closer to the intention of nature.
Only after two and a half hours did the route end. Leaving the cave and looking back, I saw the same vegetation upon the outer mountains, yet felt as though I had passed through another lifetime. A single cave divided two realms. The world is immense, and nature hides its wonders in obscure places. Without entering it oneself, one cannot know the depth of Guizhou’s mountains or the ingenuity of the natural world.