The Western Xia Imperial Tombs lie quietly at the eastern foot of Helan Mountain. Those rammed earth mounds are like silent seals of the land. When I visited at dusk, the setting sun gilded the mounds with a layer of golden red. The wind blew through the gaps between the tombs, carrying the dry smell of sand. Without carved beams or bustling crowds, the weight of history felt even more distinct. Standing here, it seemed I could touch the lingering warmth of the Dangxiang Dynasty. These weathered mounds have whispered for millennia under the starry sky.
Sand Lake is a miracle of half desert and half lake—hard to find a replica anywhere in the world. Taking a boat in, the lake is dotted with reeds, water birds flit about, and a cool breeze carrying moist vapor brushes your face. Turning around to go ashore, you step onto soft, fine sand. Walking barefoot, it's warm and tender. No deliberately carved landscapes or noisy entertainment projects, which only highlights nature's uncanny craftsmanship. Standing at the top of the sand dune, watching the blue water meet the yellow sand, it feels like seeing a whimsical stroke from the creator.
Zhenbeipu Western Film Studio is a movie museum standing on the loess slope. Walking into those rammed earth city walls and old streets, the sun stretches shadows long, and the wind blows through the banners with a whooshing sound. No luxurious sets or high-tech special effects—instead, it's full of rough, real-life texture. Touching the mottled earth walls, cold and rough, you can almost see the swordsmen from the silver screen galloping past on horses. Local elders sit at the foot of the wall sunbathing, chatting about old crew stories. History and daily life blend perfectly here.
Helan Mountain Rock Carvings are hidden on the stone walls of mountain valleys—codes left by prehistoric ancestors to the world. Walking slowly along the mountain path, the rock carvings flicker in the sunlight: sun gods, hunting scenes, their lines simple and vivid. No glass enclosures or dazzling lights, making it closer to the breath of thousands of years ago. Running your fingers over the cold rock surface, you can almost feel the focus and piety when they were carved. Only the sound of wind and birds fills the mountain; time slows down here.
At the Yellow River Ancient Ferry, old boats are moored quietly by the turbid river. A wooden plank path extends to the water; on the other side, sand dunes rise and fall, and the water flows gently and calmly. No roaring cruise ships or internet-famous check-in spots—instead, it's full of the relaxed charm of daily life. Old men fish, children play, women wash clothes by the river, the sound of wooden mallets crisp. Standing here, looking up at the long river and setting sun, looking down at the flowing water, it seems you can see the figures of camel caravans stopping here to rest in the past.
When I left, my bag was stuffed with goji berries bought from the market, and my clothes still carried the faint fishy smell of the Yellow River. This city has orderly urban construction that gives people peace of mind, wild mountains and waters that stir the heart, and profound culture that makes people think. It doesn't compete for attention, but with its unique wonders, it quietly adds to the pride of Chinese people. In today's noisy era of internet traffic, this original, down-to-earth beauty is even more precious. Yinchuan's charm is worth experiencing in person—walking slowly, savoring carefully.
