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Beneath skies of sand, caravans setting out from Chang'an trace their way west: the “journey that pierces the void” of the ancient texts. At the centre stands the Jiayuguan Pass, the last bastion of the Great Wall. Around it, the blue birds of Dunhuang, the Kalavinka nymphs and the desert poplars carry life into the heart of the arid land, as far as the dunes of Mingsha Shan and the Crescent Moon Spring.

At the edge of the high plateaus, beneath the white peaks of the Pamir, a crossroads city rises: arcades and domes, ancient columns, winged lions and steppe eagles keep watch over its gates. Here the paths of the Silk Road converge, and Sogdian caravans unload spices, fabrics and stories. From stairway to gallery, the city coils like a living amphitheatre, where merchants, musicians and pilgrims cross paths.

At the southern end of the routes, Quanzhou unfolds like a theatre of water and stone. Chinese junks, Arab dhows and Western ships brush past one another with the tides; alongside silks and porcelain travel languages and beliefs. The Liusheng pagoda guides vessels through the channels, and beneath the surface drifts the shadow of the Nanhai One, a treasure sunk in the 12th century. Here begins the Maritime Silk Road.