Beneath Xilin Gol’s endless blue horizons, where the grassland meets the sky, history whispers through the rustling Leymus chinensis. This vast prefecture in Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region was once the crossroads of empires—where Genghis Khan’s cavalry kicked up dust and Ming Dynasty merchants traded silk for Siberian furs. But today, its 200,000 km² of steppe tell a different story: one of climate refugees, disappearing permafrost, and a nomadic culture wrestling with modernity.
Long before COP28 debates, Xilin Gol’s ecosystems kept meticulous climate records. The region’s Hunshandake Sandy Land—now expanding at 2% annually—was lush pasture when Kublai Khan established the Yuan Dynasty. Tree rings from surviving Ulmus pumila (Siberian elms) near Xilinhot reveal 13th-century megadroughts that may have catalyzed Mongol expansion.
Archaeologists at Zhenglan Banner recently unearthed a Liao Dynasty (907–1125) "ice cellar" used to store dairy—an ancient refrigeration technology that thrived when permafrost was 1.4m thicker than today. "These are not ruins," says Dr. Tsetsegmaa of Inner Mongolia University. "They’re climate change dashboards written in pottery shards and frozen soil."
In 1985, China’s Household Responsibility System reached Xilin Gol, dividing collective pastures into fenced plots. Satellite imagery shows grassland fragmentation increased 300% by 2000—coinciding with a 40% drop in Procapra gutturosa (Mongolian gazelle) populations.
At East Ujimqin Banner, herders like Altanbayan now pay 8,000 RMB/year in "ecological compensation fees" for overgrazing, while coal trucks rumble past to power Beijing’s air conditioners. "My grandfather rode with 1,000 horses," he says, untangling solar panel wires on his yurt. "Now I’m an energy technician who’s never seen a wolf."
Ulaanbaatar’s crypto miners aren’t the only ones monetizing Mongolia’s cold. Near Abag Banner, a Silicon Valley-backed startup is building "data yurts"—containerized server farms cooled by steppe winds. Each unit consumes 20% less energy than a Guangzhou data center, but requires 5 hectares of degraded grassland.
"Grassland ASICs are the new sheep," jokes engineer Li Wei, whose team trains local herders in GPU maintenance. Critics call it "digital colonialism," but GDP in Xilin Gol’s tech zones grew 12% last year—outpacing traditional animal husbandry.
Xilin Gol sits at the intersection of two global crises: desertification and BRI logistics. The Xilin Gol League Grassland Monitoring Report 2023 shows 28% of pastures are now moderately or severely degraded—coinciding with a 17% annual increase in China-Mongolia freight trains carrying copper and coking coal.
At Erlianhot border crossing, sand dunes creep within 3km of the tracks. Workers from China Railway Construction wear goggles to combat airborne silica, while automated "grass checkerboards" spray liquid mulch containing Artemisia seeds—a technique adapted from 1950s Soviet afforestation projects.
Beneath Xilin Gol’s crust lies another treasure: rare earths. At Sonid Left Banner, shepherds-turned-geologists use drones to scout lithium deposits for EV batteries. A single grazing lease now fetches 120,000 RMB/year from mining companies—triple the income of traditional herding.
But the water-intensive extraction process (one ton of lithium requires 2.2 million liters) is draining Naiman Nuur, a critical wetland for migratory Grus vipio (white-naped cranes). Last spring, 47 herders petitioned the regional government citing "steppe AMD"—acid mine drainage that turns streams the color of suutei tsai (milk tea).
At Xilin Gol’s Wind Power Base, 600 turbines spin where Marco Polo once described "a sea of grass that sings." The facility generates 8.4 TWh annually—enough to power 3 million homes—but requires rare earth magnets mined from nearby Bayan Obo.
Mongolian environmentalist Naranbilig sums up the paradox: "We’re selling our wind to cool Shanghai, while our children learn about glaciers from VR headsets." At night, the turbines’ red lights pulse like distant campfires, mapping a new constellation on the ancient steppe.