In Baling Village, in central China's Henan Province, harvesters move through golden wheat fields that have surrounded stone statues carved during the Northern Song Dynasty for nearly a thousand years. These 1,027 surviving relics—guardians of imperial mausoleums—remain embedded in the landscape itself, not locked behind museum glass, creating what experts call an "open-air museum of ancient sculpture." The village's name itself, Baling, means Eight Mausoleums, a literal echo of the history that defines the place.
This unusual coexistence of heritage and everyday rural life reflects something profound about how China is reimagining cultural preservation. Rather than viewing relics as artifacts to be removed and protected, the country is asking whether meaning itself lives in the relationship between an object and its landscape—between stone guardians and golden wheat, between past and present.
When visitors and officials wondered why the statues weren't enclosed in protective casings, Zhu Xingli, head of Gongyi's cultural relics administration, offered a pragmatic answer rooted in centuries of observation: glass enclosures would trap heat and block airflow like a sauna, putting the very relics they aim to protect at risk. Instead, the statues continue to "brave freezing winters and sweltering summers," as they have for generations. For amateur photographer Liu Liheng, this conversation between eras—capturing high-speed trains, ancient stone carvings, and golden wheat in a single frame—captures something essential about contemporary China: the past and present are not opposing forces but interlocutors in ongoing dialogue.
This philosophy extends far beyond rural villages. China's nationwide cultural heritage survey, launched in 2023 and scheduled to conclude this month, has re-examined roughly 767,000 previously recorded sites while identifying more than 130,000 additional heritage locations. The scale of preservation is staggering: the country now operates more than 7,000 registered museums that hosted around 45,000 exhibitions and attracted 1.56 billion visits in 2025 alone. This Saturday marks Cultural and Natural Heritage Day, with cultural authorities and institutions nationwide hosting over 7,000 online and offline events.
In Beijing, the Central Axis—a 7.8-kilometer north-south corridor linking many of the capital's historical landmarks and one of China's 60 World Heritage sites—has become a model for balancing conservation with urban growth. In the Caochang neighborhood near Tian'anmen Square, restoration projects have preserved ancient guild halls and historical buildings while converting vacant courtyard compounds into boutique hotels integrated into the surrounding residential community. Hao Dongxue, deputy general manager of Tianjie Group, which manages the restoration, noted that "we retain the traditional architectural character while introducing modern amenities," and that these projects have improved the wider neighborhood. For longtime resident Jiao Shuqin, the changes feel natural: "These alleys still feel like traditional Beijing. The gray brick walls, the old trees and the courtyards are all still here."
Du Xiaofan, director of the Center for Land and Cultural Resources Research at Fudan University, articulates the philosophy underlying these efforts: heritage protection should sustain "spiritual and cultural ties between humanity and heritage" rather than merely preserve the past—a distinction that reframes conservation as an ongoing conversation across generations. From stone guardians in wheat fields to restored neighborhoods in the capital, China's approach suggests that the most effective preservation is one where heritage remains woven into the fabric of living communities.