The ancient Hun people built the Tongwan city from around 400AD in a pastureland, now part of the Maowusu desert.

It was hard to imagine the old glories that happened here in that bitterly cold winter day. The white walls stood out eerily in the greyish yellow desert surroundings. It is said that they were made from a mixture of boiled rice starch, limestone powder, and sands. They were so hard at the time soldiers used them to sharpen their knives. True or not, they are still here, bearing witness to the rise and fall of a civilization that spanned hundreds of years. From the deafening roars of the soldiers who used to train on the drill field, songs from the king’s palace, the drum beats calling out to a battle, to the cries of the defeat that left pieces of shattered potteries still visibly around, to the symphony of the sandstorms, varying from violently loud to silent. Most of the cities are no more. The sand is the ruler now.

I walked the foot-wide walls to the highest point of the ruin. Pigeons and flicker-like birds now build their houses even higher than that for the king. Is it true that in the long run, nature always find a proper way?