Flow Year NO.2 - Imperial Capital. The Ancient Charm on the Verge of Disappearance - Remembering Our Fading Time

Author: Qiu Yang / Country:
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: The changes in Beijing have indeed exceeded people's imagination. In just a few months or even days, coordinates on the map could vanish, turning into dust on construction sites. This ancient city has seen so many new things that they have obscured its original face. The feeling of hutongs, siheyuan, and ordinary alleyways seemed like yesterday, yet many memories of these places have lost the possibility of being revisited in person. Six months have passed since the publication of the of the "Flowing Years" thematic series "Ancient City, Unforgettable Memorial," and our editorial has been well-received by many readers who love Beijing. However, since this was our first attempt at such a topic, there were bound to be omissions and regrets. The "Flowing Years" second, "Imperial Capital, Fading Ancient Charm," is a supplement and refinement of the . We strive to use more vivid topics to narrate and commemorate fragments of this millennium-old city.
Facing the large-scale demolition and construction of the city, we hope to record as much as possible from today's perspective, even if it is only fragments of physical remnants or the vanished local customs that once thrived in the environment. In the , we have an article where the accompanying photos show a brick tower hutong from over a year ago. At that time, the western entrance of brick tower hutong had just begun to be demolished, with ruins scattered everywhere. A few days ago, when I revisited brick tower hutong, I found that the western half of the hutong had completely disappeared, with demolition extending from the western entrance to Ren'en hutong, all the way to Lu Xun's former residence. Fortunately, Lu Xun's former residence has not yet been demolished, but Zhang Henshu's former residence to the west has been lost forever. Brick tower hutong and the surrounding Fengsheng hutong, Wuding hutong, and others are among the oldest hutongs in Beijing's history. Brick tower hutong itself dates back to the Yuan Dynasty and has been a witness to the city's urban journey. However, this area is now fragmented, with many exquisite grand mansions demolished and only isolated islands of concrete and steel left behind, losing their historical roots. History, after all, cannot be repeated.
Today, in Beijing, authentic elements are becoming increasingly rare. Walking on the streets, whether it is towering buildings or wide avenues, everything feels familiar. Uniformity has become the city's mainstream, rough designs replacing cultural continuity, and the warm, simple beauty can only be found in old photographs. In recent years, Beijing has lost too much of its tradition. Hutongs have been demolished one after another, and fake antiques have been built in their place. Su'anbo is gone, Hua Market is gone, Nan Xiaojie is gone, and Meishijie is gone. The rough Yongding Gate has been rebuilt, and an awkward Zhengyang Bridge archway has been erected. Recently, there were reports that the former residence of Cao Xueqin, which was demolished years ago during the construction of the Liangmao Road, would be rebuilt. Back then, many pleas were made, but no real cultural relic was preserved. Now, however, it is proposed to spend public funds to build a fake antique, and the right or wrong of this is self-evident. In this process of two demolitions and one construction, Beijing's culture is gradually becoming blurred, to the point where sometimes, walking on a wide street, I can't help but ask myself, is this still Beijing? Beijing shouldn't just be about imperial grandeur; it should be more about the spirit of the common people, a tapestry of ordinary folk's stories and legends.
The "Flowing Years" before you attempts to restore history as much as possible to the people, using a series of vivid articles to commemorate and touch upon Beijing. The words about the ancient city of Beijing will temporarily come to an end with this. Starting from the next, we will delve into new topics. We hope our words can leave a tangible record and a memorable impression for this city. The "Flowing Years" will always carry a sense of responsibility—to bring the people the greatest possible truth.
: The Decline of Hua Market, with No Petals Only Broken Bricks
On December 11, 2003, I traveled to the eastern and southern regions for two months of reporting and returned to Beijing in a hurry. I rushed to Hua Market, only to find that it had completely changed beyond recognition. The once bustling hutong was now filled with ruins. Apart from the occasional movement of waste collectors, there was a profound silence. Many familiar elders, hutongs, and siheyuan had vanished without a trace. An elder named Ding Jiaxiang said that the third phase of the East Hua Market renovation, which began in March 2003, had already demolished over 80% of the buildings. Of the original 4,700 households, more than 4,000 had moved. Hua Market is gone. Heartbroken, I stood in the cold wind, slowly recalling the initial state of Hua Market in my memory.
One day in May 2001, when I first came to Beijing, I rode my bicycle aimlessly. I arrived in front of an old two-story building at No. 21 Hua Market Upper Fourth Street. I saw a middle-aged woman knitting a sweater, an elderly man working as a carpenter, and a middle-aged man sitting on the ground, eating his meal on the street. In the flower beds of the old house, a few sparrows were chirping and hopping. This scene was so surreal that I couldn't believe it was Beijing. I immediately raised my camera. Later, I learned that this old house was the once-famous "Qingshanju" jade market. Many old Beijingers still remember it vividly. From that day on, I fell deeply in love with hutongs. I visited Hua Market area dozens of times, reporting and photographing, documenting the hutongs, siheyuan, and chasing after old shops like the "Big Pipe" and "Neimingyuan," as well as historical sites like the Chongwen Gate Tax Office and Wenxiu's former residence. The relatively intact hutongs, doorsteps, door couplets, and siheyuan of Hua Market; the warm, kind, sincere, and generous elders; the swallows on the eaves, the kittens on the door towers, and the doves on the branches—all left an indelible impression on me.
One day in March 2003, while I was filming on Sanxiaozhong Road, I was struck by the sight of No. 53. The ancient pine wood gate was engraved with a pair of couplets rarely seen in Beijing: "Zhilan Junzi Xing; Songbai Guren Xin." Against the tree shadows, it exuded a captivating beauty. Just as I was admiring it, the gate creaked open, and an elderly woman with a kind face stepped out. After chatting, I learned her name was Liu Xiuying, 68 years old, who had rented the house for nearly 40 years. I thought the combination of the ancient gate and the elegant couplets would create a unique charm. I asked her to sit by the gate and took a few photos, but I still felt it wasn't enough. After pondering for a while, I asked her to sit in the middle of the gate and took multiple shots.
On March 25, 2003, in front of No. 30 Sanxiaozhong Road, I saw an elderly woman basking in the sun peacefully. Her shadow overlapped with the tree shadows, and the kind of beauty in her weariness moved me deeply. I immediately started taking photos. The elderly woman didn't seem to notice. Later, during an interview, I learned her name was Xie Fengqing, already 91 years old.
One day in July 2003, while I was reporting on Shangxiaozhong Road, the weather was suffocatingly hot. The hutong was sweltering with heat. I drank the entire two bottles of water I carried, but my throat was still smoking. I knew there were no small shops nearby. I gritted my teeth and carried my heavy camera and tripod, continuing my search. Suddenly, an elderly man I had never met before said, "Have some water." He was taking a break in the shade. In the past, I would never accept things from strangers, but I took the water from the elder and even asked for another bottle after drinking it. It wasn't just because I was thirsty, but because the sincerity of the hutong elders was trustworthy, and it was also my general trust in them. This was the first time since coming to Beijing that I drank water offered by others.
Another incident also left a deep impression on me. In September of the same year, I was urgently searching for Wenxiu's former residence (it was said that she had entered the palace after passing through Shang Toutiao). I asked several people, but none had any information. At that moment, a lady calmly told me to go to a certain number on Xie Tiao Hutong and ask someone for directions. An elderly man beside her said, "This is what a hutong is!" P50-51