A single three-hundred-meter stretch of cobblestone, once a quiet alleyway on the eight-hundred-year-old Ancient Tea Horse Road, became the birthplace of a modern nightlife empire because of a catastrophic natural disaster. In February 1996, a magnitude-7.0 earthquake devastated Lijiang. Amid the ruins, a retired soldier named Mu Xin helped rescue survivors. In late 1997, he stayed to build Sakura, the street's very first bar, transforming tragedy into a sanctuary of wood and light.

The street, officially named Xinhua Street, is a marvel of water-aligned design. Two-storied timber and brick buildings in Naxi and Han styles hug the West River branch of the Yu River. Narrow, rustic wooden bridges span the cold, rushing water, connecting the main walkway to open-front venues. Builders hung dried yellow corn, red chili peppers, and old bamboo hats on dark wood panels, carving signs in English, Chinese, and the pictographic Dongba script.

Today, visitors cross the stone paths, drinking sweet, home-brewed plum wine while watching the clay cats on the tiled roofs. At night, the warm, flickering glow of red lanterns reflects on the wet cobblestones. Patrons engage in duige, a tradition of cross-river singing where voices leap across the canal. The thrum of hand-drums and acoustic guitars echoes over the water, carrying the ancient spirit of the Southern Silk Road into the modern night.