Nanzhao and the Dali Kingdom: A Borderland With Its Own Center
Day 3 of a seven-part Dali, Yunnan family learning journey.

## 1. Reading The Place Before The Map

Today in Dali, as you look out across the landscape, you are standing in a natural corridor that has shaped the human geography of Asia for thousands of years. To your west, the Cangshan, the Azure Mountains, rise like a massive, jagged green wall, their nineteen peaks often crowned with clouds and capped with snow. To your east lies Erhai, the Ear-shaped Sea, a vast, brilliant blue freshwater lake that stretches over forty kilometers from north to south. This narrow strip of fertile land between the high peaks and the deep water is the heart of the Dali Bai Autonomous Prefecture, a region in northwestern Yunnan Province in southwestern China. The Bai, the indigenous ethnic group who have farmed this basin, fished these waters, and built these towns for millennia, have long understood that this landscape is not a remote edge of the world, but a vital center of its own.

When we travel, we often carry maps that divide the world into neat, brightly colored nation-states, each with a clear capital and defined borders. But to understand the deep history of Dali, we must temporarily set those modern maps aside and learn to read the landscape as the ancients did. Before there were paved highways or national borders, there were rivers, mountain passes, and fertile valleys. If you look closely at the geography of southwest China, you will see that Dali occupies a unique ecological and cultural hinge. It is the place where the high, cold Tibetan Plateau begins to step down into the subtropical hills of Southeast Asia, and where the mountain ranges of the Hengduan system run north to south, creating natural pathways for people, ideas, and goods.

For a family traveling together, this landscape offers an invitation to become landscape detectives. As you move through the Dali basin, look at how the towns and villages are nestled against the foot of the Cangshan mountains, just high enough to avoid the seasonal flooding of the Erhai lake, but low enough to access the rich alluvial soil washed down by the eighteen mountain streams. This is not an accidental arrangement. It is a spatial pattern worked out over thousands of years of human adaptation. The Bai people designed their homes, their fields, and their irrigation systems to work in harmony with this vertical landscape, where water flows from the high snows, through the terraced fields, and finally into the great lake.

In this episode, we will journey back in time to explore the two great medieval states that ruled this basin: the Nanzhao Kingdom, which flourished from the eighth to the tenth centuries, and its successor, the Dali Kingdom, which ruled from the tenth to the thirteenth centuries. We will discover how these kingdoms were not merely provincial outposts of the Chinese empire, but sophisticated, independent powers that negotiated, fought, and traded on equal terms with the Tang and Song dynasties of China, the powerful Tibetan Empire to the north, and the kingdoms of Southeast Asia to the south. By looking at the monuments they left behind, the trade routes they controlled, and the unique form of Buddhism they practiced, we will see how Dali functioned as a brilliant, cosmopolitan center in its own right, connecting different worlds across the rugged terrain of southwest Asia.

## 2. The Great Collision and the Three Parallel Rivers

To understand why Dali became such a crucial crossroads, we must go back much further than human history, deep into geological time. About fifty million years ago, a massive tectonic event transformed the face of our planet. The Indian plate, moving northward, collided with the massive Eurasian plate. This slow-motion collision, which is still happening today, crumpled the earth’s crust, pushing up the Himalayas and creating the Tibetan Plateau. But as the plates squeezed together, the rock of the eastern edge of the collision zone was forced to bend, fracture, and slide southward, creating a series of high, parallel mountain ranges separated by incredibly deep river gorges.

This geological phenomenon is what UNESCO identifies as the Three Parallel Rivers of Yunnan Protected Areas, a vast and dramatic landscape just to the north and west of Dali. Here, three of Asia’s greatest rivers—the Jinsha, which is the upper reach of the Yangtze; the Lancang, which flows south to become the Mekong; and the Nujiang, which becomes the Salween—run roughly parallel to one another, separated by towering mountain ranges with glaciated peaks over six thousand meters high. In some places, these mighty rivers flow within tens of kilometers of each other, yet they are divided by impassable walls of rock, and their waters will eventually empty into three different seas: the East China Sea, the South China Sea, and the Andaman Sea.

This extreme topography created what scientists call a biogeographic convergence zone. Because of the steep elevation gradients, which can range from subtropical valley floors to alpine tundra within a single day’s climb, and the influence of both the Indian Ocean and Pacific Ocean monsoons, northwest Yunnan became one of the richest biodiversity regions in the world. It is a sanctuary for thousands of species of plants, birds, and animals, many of which survived the ice ages in these deep, sheltered valleys. For early human communities, this biodiversity was a treasure trove of medicinal plants, timber, wild game, and varied agricultural niches.

However, this same geography also presented a formidable challenge to human movement. If you want to travel east to west across this region, you must climb up over a high, freezing mountain pass, descend thousands of meters into a roaring river gorge, cross a turbulent river, and then climb up the other side, repeating this process again and again. But if you travel north to south, the valleys and river systems become natural highways. The Dali basin, situated just to the east of these deep gorges, served as the ultimate gathering point. It was the place where the rugged mountain trails consolidated into a wide, hospitable plain where travelers could rest, trade, and find shelter. As a family, when you look up at the Cangshan mountains, try to imagine them not as a static backdrop, but as the easternmost rib of this great tectonic collision, a physical reminder of the colossal forces that shaped the pathways of human history.

## 3. The Rise of Nanzhao: Six Chieftains and One Kingdom

In the early eighth century, the Erhai basin was not a single unified kingdom, but a patchwork of localized principalities. The historical texts of the Chinese Tang Dynasty refer to these local leaders as "zhao," a word that likely meant prince, king, or chieftain in the ancient regional languages. There were six major zhao in the region, constantly competing for land, resources, and control of the trade routes that passed through the valley. The southernmost of these principalities was known as Nanzhao, which literally translates to "Southern Prince" or "Southern State."

The leader of Nanzhao, a brilliant and ambitious chieftain named Piluoge, realized that to survive in this competitive environment, he needed to play a sophisticated game of regional diplomacy. To the east lay the Tang Dynasty, one of the most powerful empires in Chinese history, which was eager to secure its southwestern frontier. To the north and west lay the Tibetan Empire, a fierce and expanding military power that threatened both the Tang and the local kingdoms of Yunnan. Piluoge saw an opportunity. He approached the Tang emperor, offering to unite the six zhao under his rule and act as a buffer state against the Tibetans in exchange for Tang military and financial support.

The Tang court, believing they could use Piluoge as a loyal vassal, agreed to the alliance. With Tang backing, Piluoge successfully subdued or absorbed the other five principalities, and in the year 738, he was officially recognized by the Tang emperor as the King of Yunnan. He established his capital near the southern end of the Erhai lake, laying the foundations of the Nanzhao Kingdom. But Piluoge and his successors had no intention of being mere puppets of the Chinese court. They understood that their strength lay in their ability to navigate between the two great empires of their day: the Tang and the Tibetan.

Within a few decades, relations between Nanzhao and the Tang Dynasty soured. Tang frontier officials became increasingly arrogant and demanding, treating the Nanzhao kings with disrespect and attempting to interfere in their internal affairs. In response, the Nanzhao king, Geluofeng, made a dramatic geopolitical pivot. He broke his alliance with the Tang and swore allegiance to the Tibetan Empire, which welcomed Nanzhao as a powerful ally against China. When the Tang sent a massive army of over eighty thousand soldiers to punish Nanzhao in the mid-eighth century, the Nanzhao forces, utilizing their intimate knowledge of the mountainous terrain and assisted by Tibetan troops, utterly destroyed the Chinese army in a series of battles near modern-day Xiaguan.

For historians, this conflict is recorded on a remarkable artifact known as the Nanzhao Stele, a massive stone monument erected in the year 766 that still stands near the ancient Nanzhao capital of Taihe. Written in classical Chinese, the inscription on the stele is a masterpiece of political propaganda. It carefully explains that Nanzhao did not want to rebel against the Tang emperor, but was forced to do so by the corruption of local Tang officials, and it expresses hope that one day the friendship between the two states might be restored. This monument shows us that the rulers of Nanzhao were not unlettered "barbarians" as some imperial court records claimed, but highly literate, strategically minded actors who understood the power of the written word to justify their sovereignty.

## 4. The Architecture of Power: Decoding the Three Pagodas

Perhaps the most iconic visual symbol of Dali’s medieval glory is the Three Pagodas of Chongsheng Temple, which stand proudly at the foot of the Cangshan mountains, just north of Dali Old Town. These elegant structures are not just beautiful photo opportunities; they are three-dimensional historical documents that reveal the engineering prowess, religious devotion, and political ambitions of the Nanzhao and Dali kingdoms. By studying their design, materials, and the treasures found within them, historians have been able to reconstruct the cultural world of these ancient states.

The central and tallest of the three, known as the Qianxun Pagoda, is traditionally dated to the ninth century, during the height of the Nanzhao Kingdom. It is a square, sixteen-tiered brick structure that rises nearly seventy meters into the sky. If you look closely at its shape, you might notice that it bears a striking resemblance to the famous Wild Goose Pagodas in the ancient Chinese capital of Chang'an, modern-day Xi'an. This architectural style is a direct reflection of the cultural exchange between Nanzhao and the Tang Dynasty. Despite their frequent military conflicts, Nanzhao sent many of its young noblemen, artisans, and monks to study in the Tang capital, where they absorbed Chinese technology, administrative systems, and architectural styles, bringing them back to the Erhai basin.

However, the Qianxun Pagoda is not a mere copy of Chinese architecture. It was built using a unique local construction technique that did not rely on mortar, but rather on precisely shaped, interlocking bricks and a central hollow shaft that allowed the structure to flex during earthquakes. This engineering genius is the reason why the pagoda has survived dozens of major earthquakes over the past twelve hundred years, including several that leveled the surrounding towns. The two smaller, octagonal pagodas that flank the Qianxun Pagoda were built later, during the Dali Kingdom era in the tenth or eleventh century. They are more ornate, decorated with delicate brick carvings of Buddhist deities, lotus petals, and guardian figures, reflecting a shift toward a more decorative and esoteric style of art.

In the late twentieth century, during a major restoration project, archaeologists were allowed to examine the interior of the pagodas. What they found inside the hollow chambers was one of the most significant archaeological discoveries in modern Chinese history. They uncovered over six hundred precious relics, including exquisite gold, silver, bronze, and crystal statues of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, Sanskrit manuscripts written on palm leaves, medicinal herbs, and bronze mirrors. These objects proved beyond a doubt that the Chongsheng Temple was not just a local monastery, but a royal temple of the highest order, and that Dali was a major center of Esoteric Buddhism with direct connections to both China and India.

As a family, when you stand before the Three Pagodas, take a moment to do some visual detective work. Look at the difference in shape between the central square pagoda and the two octagonal ones. Notice how the lines of the central pagoda are straight and solid, conveying a sense of monumental power, while the side pagodas are more curved and delicate. Try to imagine the sheer human effort it took to bake millions of bricks, transport them to this site, and stack them so precisely without modern cranes or machinery, all while the wind swept down from the Cangshan peaks.

## 5. The Dali Kingdom: A Buddhist Realm on the Edge

In the year 937, after a period of political instability following the fall of the Nanzhao dynasty, a new leader named Duan Siping united the region and established the Dali Kingdom. The Duan family, who were of Bai heritage, would rule Dali for more than three centuries, a period of remarkable peace, prosperity, and cultural flourishing that coincided with the Song Dynasty in China. Unlike the militaristic and expansionist Nanzhao, the Dali Kingdom focused on internal development, regional trade, and, above all, the patronage of Buddhism.

Buddhism in the Dali Kingdom was not just a personal faith; it was the official ideology of the state, deeply woven into the fabric of government and daily life. The specific form of Buddhism practiced here is known as Azheli Buddhism, a unique local synthesis of Esoteric Buddhism, which came from India and Tibet, with Chinese Chan Buddhism and traditional Bai beliefs in local protective spirits. The Azheli monks, who were often married and passed their religious titles down through noble families, served as royal advisors, educators, and administrators.

The devotion of the Dali kings to Buddhism was so profound that it has few parallels in world history. Out of the twenty-two kings who ruled the Dali Kingdom, nine of them voluntarily abdicated their thrones, gave up their royal power, and retired to monasteries to live out their lives as humble Buddhist monks. This was not always a sign of political weakness; in many cases, it was a strategic way to resolve succession disputes, preserve family unity, and demonstrate the king’s spiritual purity. The royal court poured vast wealth into building temples, casting giant bronze bells, and commissioning exquisite Buddhist art, turning the Dali basin into a sacred landscape that contemporary writers referred to as the "Myriad Buddhas State."

This religious devotion also shaped Dali’s foreign policy. The Song Dynasty in China, facing constant military threats from nomadic empires to their north, decided not to attempt to conquer or administer the southwestern borderlands. Instead, they maintained a peaceful, respectful relationship with the Dali Kingdom. The Duan kings regularly sent tribute missions to the Song court, but these were actually highly lucrative trade delegations. The Dali envoys brought prized horses, medicinal herbs, and musk, and returned with Chinese silk, books, and porcelain. Because Dali was a sovereign, independent state, it was able to develop its own unique laws, tax systems, and cultural identity, free from the direct control of the Chinese imperial bureaucracy.

## 6. The Web of the Tea Horse Road

To understand how the Dali Kingdom funded its beautiful temples and maintained its independence, we must look at the network of mountain trails known historically as the Chama Gudao, or the Tea Horse Road. This was not a single, paved highway, but a vast, capillary-like system of high-altitude paths, rope bridges, and river crossings that connected the tea-growing regions of southern Yunnan with the highlands of Tibet, the fertile plains of central China, and the kingdoms of Southeast Asia and India.

The economic engine of this trade network was a simple ecological reality: different regions produced things that other regions desperately needed but could not produce themselves. On the high, cold Tibetan Plateau, the traditional diet consisted of roasted barley flour, yak meat, and dairy products. This high-fat, low-vegetable diet was difficult to digest and lacked essential vitamins. Tibetans discovered that drinking tea helped digest their heavy food, prevented scurvy, and provided warmth in the freezing climate. However, tea plants cannot grow at high altitudes. The nearest place where tea could be grown in abundance was the subtropical hills of southern Yunnan, particularly around modern-day Pu'er and Xishuangbanna.

Conversely, the Chinese dynasties and the local kingdoms of Yunnan had a desperate need for strong, hardy horses for warfare, transportation, and agriculture. The best horses in Asia were bred on the high grasslands of Tibet and the Mongolian steppes. Thus, a trade of mutual necessity was born: Yunnan tea for Tibetan horses. Dali sat at the absolute center of this exchange. It was the great marketplace where the tea caravans coming up from the south met the horse caravans coming down from the north.

The logistics of this trade were incredibly grueling. The caravans, known as Ma Bang, consisted of dozens or even hundreds of pack mules and horses, led by experienced caravan leaders who knew how to navigate the dangerous mountain passes, defend against bandits, and survive extreme weather. The tea was not transported in loose leaves, which would quickly spoil in the damp mountain air; instead, it was steamed and compressed into hard, dense bricks or cakes, then wrapped in bamboo husks or ox hides to protect them from moisture. A single mule could carry up to eighty kilograms of tea, walking along narrow trails carved into the sides of vertical cliffs, crossing roaring rivers like the Lancang and Nujiang on swaying suspension bridges made of iron chains or woven bamboo ropes.

As a family, try to imagine the sounds of the Tea Horse Road. Close your eyes and listen for the rhythmic clinking of the copper bells hung around the necks of the lead horses. These bells were not just decorative; they served a vital safety purpose. In the thick mountain mists or on narrow, blind curves, the sound of the bells warned oncoming caravans to stop and wait at a safe passing point. The bells also kept the animals moving forward in a steady rhythm and helped the caravan leaders keep track of their herd in the dense forests.

## 7. Borderland as Center: Redefining the Map

When we look at the history of the Nanzhao and Dali kingdoms, we are challenged to rethink our basic assumptions about what constitutes a "center" and what constitutes a "borderland." In many history books, Yunnan is described as a remote, wild frontier of the Chinese empire, a place of exile and mystery. But this view is based entirely on a perspective centered on the imperial capitals of northern China, such as Chang'an or Beijing. If we shift our perspective and look at the map of Asia from the viewpoint of Dali, a completely different picture emerges.

From the eighth to the thirteenth centuries, Dali was not a peripheral edge, but a vibrant, cosmopolitan hub. It was the geographical and cultural hinge where three of the greatest civilizations of the ancient world met and interacted: the East Asian Confucian civilization of China, the Indo-Tibetan Buddhist civilization of the Himalayas, and the diverse, trade-oriented cultures of Southeast Asia, including the Mon, Khmer, and Pyu kingdoms. Dali was the place where these different worlds traded goods, exchanged ideas, and blended their artistic and religious traditions.

Archaeological evidence from this era supports this view of Dali as a global crossroads. In the tombs and temple ruins of the Dali Kingdom, researchers have found coins from the Tang and Song dynasties, cowrie shells from the Indian Ocean that were used as a local currency, Persian glassware, Tibetan-style bronze deities, and Southeast Asian style ceramics. The language of the Dali court was also highly cosmopolitan; while classical Chinese was used for official state administration and diplomacy, Sanskrit was widely used for religious rituals and Buddhist texts, and the indigenous Bai language was spoken in daily life.

This regional centrality allowed Dali to act as a buffer and a bridge. It prevented the direct military clash of the Chinese and Tibetan empires for centuries, while facilitating a peaceful flow of trade and ideas between them. It was a place where people of different ethnicities, languages, and religions lived side by side in a relatively stable, prosperous society. By understanding Dali as a center in its own right, we learn a valuable lesson about history: that the edges of our modern maps were often the vital, beating hearts of the ancient world.

## 8. The Art of Diplomacy: Manuscripts and Stone

To get a vivid sense of what life was like at the royal court of the Dali Kingdom, we can turn to one of the most precious artistic treasures of medieval Asia: the *Dali Scroll of Buddhist Images*, painted by the court artist Zhang Shengwen between the years 1173 and 1176. This extraordinary handscroll, which is over thirty meters long, contains hundreds of individual paintings of Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, guardian spirits, monks, and historical figures, rendered in exquisite detail and brilliant colors.

For historians, the most fascinating section of the scroll is the depiction of the Dali royal court itself. In these scenes, we see the King of Dali, Duan Zhixing, surrounded by his ministers, generals, court ladies, and foreign guests. The king is dressed in elegant, Chinese-style silk robes, reflecting the influence of Song Dynasty court culture. However, his hair is styled in a distinct local fashion, and his ministers are shown wearing turbans and long, flowing robes that resemble the traditional dress of Southeast Asia.

The scroll also depicts foreign envoys visiting the Dali court, including merchants and diplomats from India, Tibet, Burma, and Vietnam. These figures are drawn with highly individualized facial features, clothing, and tribute gifts, showing that the artist was familiar with the diverse peoples who frequented the markets of Dali. The presence of these foreign visitors in a state-commissioned religious painting was a powerful way for the Dali kings to legitimize their rule, showing that they were respected by the wider Buddhist world.

Another crucial source of historical information is the stone inscriptions found throughout the region. Unlike paper or silk, which easily rot in the damp climate of southwest China, stone is nearly indestructible. By studying the inscriptions on steles, tomb markers, and temple walls, epigraphers—scholars who study ancient inscriptions—have been able to reconstruct the genealogies of local noble families, the details of land transactions, the laws of the kingdom, and the construction dates of major monuments. These stone records show us that the society of the Dali Kingdom was highly literate, legally sophisticated, and deeply organized, with a clear system of property rights, taxation, and social hierarchy.

## 9. The Living Legacy of the Bai People

The medieval kingdoms of Nanzhao and Dali did not disappear when their political power came to an end. In the mid-thirteenth century, the Mongol armies of Kublai Khan invaded Yunnan, bringing an end to the independent Dali Kingdom. However, the Mongols recognized the administrative skill and local authority of the Duan family, and they allowed them to continue ruling the region as local governors under the Mongol Yuan Dynasty. This administrative continuity helped preserve the unique culture, language, and traditions of the Dali basin, which continue to thrive today in the lives of the Bai people.

As you walk through the villages and towns of Dali today, you can see this living legacy in the beautiful, traditional architecture of the Bai homes. The classic Bai house is built using a design known as "Sanfang Yizhaobi," which translates to "Three Rooms and one Screen Wall." This layout consists of three two-story residential buildings arranged in a U-shape around a central courtyard, with the open side of the U closed by a high, white-plastered screen wall. This screen wall is not just a structural barrier; it is designed to reflect the afternoon sunlight back into the courtyard and the main living rooms, making the house bright and warm.

The Bai people are also famous for their exquisite craftsmanship, particularly in stone-carving and wood-carving. The mountains of Dali are rich in high-quality marble, so famous throughout China that the Chinese word for marble, *dalishi*, literally means "Dali stone." For centuries, Bai artisans have carved this marble into beautiful decorative panels, screens, and building materials, selecting stone with natural patterns that resemble misty mountains, flowing water, or dramatic ink-wash landscapes. In the nearby town of Jianchuan, Bai woodworkers have passed down their intricate carving techniques for generations, creating elaborate, multi-layered wooden doors, windows, and furniture that are prized throughout East Asia.

Another vibrant aspect of Bai culture is the art of indigo tie-dyeing, known in Chinese as *zhaoran*. Using natural dyes made from the leaves of the woad plant, which grows in the Cangshan mountains, Bai women create beautiful, intricate patterns on cotton cloth. The process is incredibly labor-intensive: the fabric is folded, bunched, and tightly tied with thousands of tiny knots by hand before being dipped multiple times into the fermenting indigo vats. When the threads are cut away, they reveal stunning, stark white patterns against a deep, rich blue background. These patterns often depict elements of the local environment—such as the waves of Erhai, the flowers of Cangshan, or butterflies—connecting the modern artisan directly to the natural world that has sustained their ancestors for generations.

## 10. A Family Field Guide to the Borderland

Now that we have explored the deep history, geology, and culture of the Nanzhao and Dali kingdoms, it is time for you and your family to put this knowledge into practice. As you explore the Dali basin together, use these observation prompts to turn your journey into an active, shared historical investigation.

First, find a quiet place where you can sit together and look up at the Cangshan mountains and down toward the Erhai lake. Take out a sketchbook or a piece of paper and try to draw a simple cross-section of the landscape. Mark the snowy peaks, the steep forested slopes, the alluvial plain where the towns are built, and the lake. Now, look at the sky. Can you see how the clouds seem to gather and roll over the top of the mountains, often disappearing before they reach the valley? This is the "Cangshan Cloud Pass," a local weather phenomenon caused by the warm, moist air from the Indian Ocean being forced upward by the high peaks. How do you think this vertical geography affected the movement of ancient armies or merchants?

Second, as you walk through the streets of Dali Old Town or a nearby Bai village, pay close attention to the sounds around you. Can you hear the sound of flowing water? Look down at the sides of the streets. You will see deep, stone-lined channels where clear water from the Cangshan streams flows constantly through the town. This ancient irrigation and drainage system has been maintained for centuries, providing fresh water for washing, cooling the air, and carrying away waste. Try to trace one of these streams: where does it come from, and where does it go?

Third, visit a traditional Bai house or look at the exterior walls of the buildings in the old town. Look at the screen walls, the *yizhaobi*. Notice the paintings and calligraphy on them. Often, you will see four large Chinese characters written in the center of the wall. These characters are not just decorative; they are "family mottos" or historical references that identify the clan or family name of the home’s owner. For example, a wall with characters referring to "pure white stone" might belong to a Yang family, while characters referring to "the study of classics" might belong to a Zhao family. Ask a local guide or a polite shopkeeper about the meaning of these characters and what they tell us about the family’s heritage.

Finally, take a close look at the patterns on a piece of local indigo tie-dyed cloth. Can you see how the patterns are not perfectly symmetrical, and how the blue dye slightly bleeds into the white areas? This is the mark of hand-crafted work, a physical record of the human hands that tied the knots and dipped the fabric. Try to identify the different shapes in the pattern: do they look like waves, clouds, flowers, or animals? By looking closely at these details, you are not just observing a souvenir; you are connecting with a living artistic tradition that has survived the rise and fall of kingdoms, the march of empires, and the turning of the earth.