Joan Kushtai Xueyao Homestay

In the folds of the Tianshan Mountains, there hides a ballad about time — Qiongkushitai Qixueyao Homestay. Nestled in a village honored as both a "National Historical and Cultural Village" and a "National Key Rural Tourism Village, this haven for the soul takes the seven layers of mountain hues as its paper and the glow of snow as its ink. In this ancient village surrounded by mountains and water, it weaves a dual rhythm of seclusion and homecoming for every seeker of poetry and distant lands. When the morning mist of the village drifts over the wooden fences, the echoes of the century-old Wusun Ancient Road ripple through the 青稞 fields. The log exterior walls of Qixueyao Homestay have long been steeped in the texture of time, with gray tiles harmonizing with the meadows. Through the light filtering through the window lattice, one can almost sense the crispness of snowmelt flowing in the air. Here, deliberate luxury is eschewed, yet the "warmth of daily life" is brewed into a poem of existence: hand-woven woolen carpets, tables and chairs polished from old pine wood, and silent horse lanterns in the corner — every furnishing carries warmth, much like the lavender drying at villagers’ doorsteps, hiding a touching softness beneath its modesty. The guest rooms are an extension of nature: the window lattice of "Cloud 栖 (Yunqi)" frames half a green mountain, while cotton-linen bedding seems dyed with the green of meadows; the curtains of "Snowfall (Xueluo)" sway gently, and moonlight creeps onto the pillow at midnight; even the cozy "Starry Slumber (Xingmian)" has a slanted skylight that draws the Milky Way into dreams. All spaces adhere to the philosophy of "less is more": warm yellow light spills over dried flowers in clay jars, and freshly baked naan always rests on a coffee table repurposed from an old wooden crate, letting you encounter long-lost relaxation in the tangible simplicity. The culinary journey begins in the vegetable garden. Morning-picked green peppers still glisten with dew, and smoked meat in the cellar carries the fragrance of pine. The chef auntie masters the flavor codes of both southern China and the Western Regions: beer-braised duck slow-cooked over fire, infused with grassland spices; braised pork with bamboo shoots, its sauce mingling with the sweetness of snowmelt; even plain stir-fried vegetables taste of sunlight-ripened freshness. Sitting by the window, watching distant snow-capped mountains fade in and out of clouds, you’ll find mountains and rivers becoming the most comforting accompaniment to your meal. As dusk falls, horse lanterns light up the homestay’s wooden walkway one by one. Sitting on an old wicker chair on the terrace, listening to the stream sing in the valley and watching stars settle over herders’ tents — you’ll finally understand why ancient sayings speak of "no concept of time in the mountains." Qixueyao is not an isolated island for escape, but a ferry where the heart finds its place: it washes away vanity with the clarity of snow-capped mountains, and soothes the mundane heart with the warmth of the village. When you open the window one morning, you may suddenly realize that poetry and distant lands have never been beyond the mountains and rivers, but in the deep affection of this house, this food, this grass, and this wood. Seven layers of mountain hues dye the ballad; half a cup of tea reveals the essence of life. Qiongkushitai Qixueyao Homestay awaits you to climb its steps, and meet yourself again after a long absence.