The Li River at Xingping, in the Guangxi region of southern China, is the bend of water and pointed limestone peaks that the country printed on the back of its 20-yuan note, and it is drifted through on bamboo rafts in the still hour after dawn, when mist gathers at the foot of the karst and the river lies flat enough to mirror the hills, past the last of the cormorant fishermen. The peaks are fenglin karst, limestone towers that rise alone from a flat plain rather than in linked clusters, hundreds of them along the river between Guilin and Yangshuo in pointed cones and humps with trees on top, and Xingping sits on the finest stretch; the rafts, motorised now and made of plastic pipes in the shape of the old bamboo ones, leave from the town and run upriver past the peaks and back, and at the bend north of town the hills on the back of the banknote line up exactly with the hills across the water, so that almost every Chinese visitor holds a note up and takes the same photograph. The flawless reflection comes from one spot, the Yellow Cloth Shoal, named for a broad yellowish rock lying flat beneath the water like a sheet of cloth.
A few kilometres upriver a cliff of 400 metres called Nine-Horse Fresco Hill carries stains and hollows that locals read as nine horses in different poses, and counting all nine is said to mark a scholar. Xingping's straw-hatted fishermen once sent trained cormorants diving for the catch, a snare at the throat keeping the birds from swallowing the fish, and a few old men still go out on rafts with their birds and lanterns at dusk, for the photographers now rather than the fish. The town itself was settled more than 1,700 years ago, in the Three Kingdoms era, and its stone lanes and old houses lead down to the river. The Li at Xingping is the view on the money, and the river at dawn is better than the note.