Wangren Old Street

Wangren Old Street

The renowned town of Wangrenji in northern Anhui is located in the western part of Lixin County. It began as a fortified military settlement during the Tang Dynasty, known as Xicheng. In the Ming Dynasty, it was called Wuzhang County. During the Qing Dynasty, it was renamed Wanglaorenji after a centenarian surnamed Wang, and later simplified to Wangrenji after the liberation. The ancient town was preserved until the early days of liberation but was eventually destroyed, yet still retains a famously ancient street. This street was once an official route from the north leading to the ancient Yingshan Prefecture, commonly referred to as the “Three-Li Long Street,” though it might now stretch some six Chinese miles. But people still habitually call it Old Street. Due to the changes of time and the passage of years, the old street has lost its former prosperity. On a summer afternoon, amid light drizzle, I came here hoping to find traces of the past.

Strolling casually onto the old street feels like falling from a bustling city into a tranquil, isolated island. The narrow street winds and twists like an elderly person lying in repose. On both sides are houses of varying heights and ages—some well-off families have already rebuilt into multi-story buildings, and some have even moved away. Only the poorer households remain in their dilapidated, even slightly tilted homes, clinging to the charm of the ancient Xicheng. Wandering through, one occasionally spots remnants of murals that bear witness to the “peasant paintings and poetry” movement of Wangren in the 1950s and 1960s. These artworks seem to recount the historical glory of Wangren. Even today, stories are still told of Emperor Qianlong’s incognito visit here. Places visited by emperors often carry an air of magic. At its peak, Wangren peasant paintings and poetry were famous nationwide and abroad, earning a certificate of merit from the Government Administration Council signed by Premier [name redacted], attracting domestic and international visitors and scholars. Wangren produced a large number of master painters. For instance, Chu Chunyi, whose works were made into wrought iron paintings exhibited in Paris, France, and were included in the “Modern Figures of Anhui” section of the Anhui Encyclopedia in 1994. And Chu Keting, whose works were published as New Year prints distributed nationwide by Anhui Fine Arts Publishing House. I stopped before a stone stele. This

is the 1985 memorial stele erected by the Lixin County People's Government marking the “former site of Fubei County,” informing visitors that Wangren was once a land of revolution where a red regime was established during the Liberation War. Behind the stele once stood an elegant, tall ancient building, but unfortunately, it has now been demolished and replaced by a building under construction, which leaves me deeply regretful. Opposite stands a shopping mall and restaurant stubbornly holding their ground, seemingly out of place. Further along, one encounters desolate, uninhabited courtyards—locked wooden doors can’t hide the overgrown weeds inside. Occasionally, a startled stray cat darts across, hiding into the deep, gloomy yard, startling pedestrians instead. Amid the amazement, I couldn’t help but mutter a line from Su Zhe: “Lying listless by the northern window, unroused by wind, while pines and bamboos sigh with rain.” Along the street, piles of broken bricks and tiles lie here and there, so classically old they’re almost painful to look at. Perhaps Ouyang Xiu once visited this place when he served as prefect of Yingshan? Unintentionally, I pass by a vendor selling “fenzi mo” (powder flatbread)—a local specialty made from sweet potato starch mixed with some other flours, lightly pan-fried to about 80% done, then rolled with minced garlic and chili sauce. As far as I know, this kind of flatbread is unique to Wangrenji, made only by the Yang family, and is said to have a history of several hundred years. Even if other places make something similar, the taste probably isn’t as authentic. Rural children love it—some walk over ten li with adults just to buy a few pieces during market day. By an old well by the roadside, an elder tells me this is the South Well—one of the “Four Gates, Four Wells” of the ancient Xicheng. It was located just outside the south gate of the old town. Because the road leading southward out of the city bent slightly, locals called it “Goose Neck Spring.” Don’t underestimate this small bend and this well. Legend says it was because of them that a powerful warlord mentioned in Mao Zedong’s Selected Works, Deng Ruzhuo, emerged from a nearby small village. Also from here came Deng Zanqing (locally known as Deng Laozan), who once served as the Civil Affairs Commissioner of Anhui Province during the Republic of China; Liu Chengshan, former commander of the Sichuan Military Region; and Olympic champion Deng Linlin, among others. Narrow alleys and quiet old wells bring to mind scenes of crowds of villagers carrying wooden buckets and jars to draw water—the well water was stirred and drained by them, angering the stationed troops who couldn’t get water and thus hurriedly shut the gates ahead of time. Shouts, calls, and the sounds of drawing water seem to still echo in my ears, creating a surreal sense of time dislocation. Next to the South Well flows a small river running east-west—it’s the ancient southern moat of the town. A small bridge crosses it now, hidden among wild grass and bushes, giving off a lonely and desolate vibe. Looking back westward, a large waterlogged flatland lies quietly, with a few ducks busy eating duckweed on the surface. This is the Xicheng River. Once connected to three other rivers (also called Yuanyang Gully), its waters flowed into Wuming Gully east of the town (named for passing by the home of Wu Zixu), then onward to Zhuzhugang, into the Xi Fei River, and finally into the Huai River. Locals say that twenty or thirty years ago, this river still flowed with clear water, where people often fished by the banks. Sadly, now the water is foul-smelling, the channel “suffering from intestinal blockage.” People have filled in sections to build houses or grow vegetables, tearing apart the town’s natural barrier into fragments—an outcome truly lamentable. On the opposite bank of the Xicheng River lies a large, open highland. Dig around with a shovel, and you often unearth chunks of pottery clay. Legend says this was once the training ground for Li Zicheng’s rebel army. The Lixin County Annals record that in the eighth year of the Chongzhen era in the Ming Dynasty, Li Zicheng’s forces marched toward Fengyang, capturing Yingshan, Bozhou, and Mengcheng along the way. At Wanglaorenji, they crushed the rebellious general Yuan Shizhong and his troops. It seems this legend is indeed based in fact. Standing on the old street and looking over, you’ll see several large burial mounds shaded by lush green trees, and the verse “Three thousand clad in iron charge forth, hooves thunderous like crashing thunder” comes to mind. Because this relic exists, proving that Li Zicheng once came here, it remains a source of pride for the people of Wangrenji. However, fate is unpredictable—in the year the Japanese burned down Wangrenji, they also marched through this very training ground before entering the town.

Time flies like an arrow; years pass like a song. By the old street, I also saw children leisurely swinging on a swing; smoke curling from a small house where a few youths argued over a wrongly played mahjong tile; and beneath a big tree, an elderly gentleman wearing glasses, reading a thick thread-bound book, seemingly oblivious to the noise around him. It reminded me of a couplet from the former residence of Master Qi Baishi: “Unmoved by favor or disgrace, I watch flowers bloom and fade in my courtyard; indifferent to coming or going, I gaze at clouds drifting across the sky.” I was suddenly overcome with another sense of temporal dislocation—could he be the legendary “Wanglaoren”?

On the way home, I passed North City Street, a completely different scene: several wide cement roads had been built, with rows of new buildings nearly completed, and the sounds of machinery and voices bustling on the construction site. Looking up, the drizzle had long ceased, the dark clouds had dispersed, and the evening glow filled the sky. I couldn’t help but think: if Wangren Old Street could be restored, blending its ancient charm harmoniously with the civilization of the modern new town, perhaps it could become a tourist attraction in northern Anhui. Heck, I’ve even come up with a slogan: “New Northern Anhui, New Travel, Take a Stroll Down Wangren Old Street,” or “Gaze at auspicious clouds above, wander the earth of Wangren below.” Of course, that’s just my idea. But no matter what, when work gets stressful or your mood is low, just think of the leisurely, serene, and composed demeanor of that “Wanglaoren”—isn’t that the dream I’ve been striving for?