The New Rise of Hongqiao

The New Rise of Hongqiao

The New Rise of Hongqiao

This strategic pass guards the famed town, where imperial towers pierce the azure sky. Golden Buddhist halls stand in tripod formation, while flying corridors ride the waters like twin rainbows. Beyond lies a seamless expanse of rosy clouds and autumn waves, amidst misty rains veiling a thousand hamlets in twilight. To the northeast lies the vital route to the imperial capital, united under one rule for generations. — Qing Dynasty, Feng Zhizhao, Baixiang County

The Wu River flows past the head of Nanguan Village, where a stone arch bridge named Tongji Bridge crosses it. At the bridge’s northern end stands the Jade Emperor Pavilion, soaring into the sky with its glazed yellow tiles, vermilion pillars, carved beams, and painted rafters, all resplendent in gold and splendor. To the left of the pavilion is the Three Officials Temple, and to the right, the Dark Emperor Temple. On the southern bank of the bridge are the Zhenwu Temple and the Great Mercy Nunnery. Across the road to the west are the Dragon King Temple and an opera stage. Here, Buddhist halls and grand shrines stand densely, with tiled houses scattered in picturesque disorder. About five zhang on either side of the bridge sit pavilions built over the water, connected to the riverbanks by corridors. Standing atop the Jade Emperor Pavilion and looking west toward the Taihang Mountains, the emerald waters resemble a jade belt encircling the ancient town, with city walls and towers reflected in the water — serene and tranquil. The riverside willows stretch their branches gently in the breeze, adding to the charm. Drifting in a small boat amid the shimmering ripples, gliding downstream, “to where the green grass grows greener, laden with starlight, singing under the dazzling stellar glow.” After a heavy rain, the river rises, and standing on the pavilion in the middle of the stream, the surging, awe-inspiring waters tremble the pillars with their roaring current, stirring a breathtaking, soul-stirring sensation. Gazing toward Tongji Bridge, one sees a rainbow-like arch with water droplets splashing and mist swirling — a beautiful scene of the New Rise of Hongqiao. The Jade Emperor Pavilion stands tall, beneath which is a grand, spacious gate tunnel wide enough for two horse-drawn carriages to pass side by side, with room for pedestrians on either side. The plaque above the gate is inlaid with the stone engraving “Huaiyang Blessed Town.” The road beneath the gate was the only north-south thoroughfare between the Taihang Mountains to the west and the Dalu Ze area to the east during the Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties, known as the Nine-Provinces Ten-Thousand-Li Imperial Road. And this very pass at the Jade Emperor Pavilion guarded this crucial route to the imperial capital, Beijing. When open, it allowed unimpeded passage, bustling with traffic; when closed, it severed north-south travel entirely. Emperors of the Ming and Qing dynasties made multiple southern tours passing through this ancient town, for this was the only available route. Owing to its strategic location, the Ming Dynasty established the Huai Shui Post here, overseeing courier services for five counties—Gao, Bai, Long, Lin, and Ning—with numerous horses and sedan-chair bearers. Thus, the road, the pass, and the post station converged, bustling with travelers—an unimaginably spectacular sight of continuous streams of carts and horses. To this day, many narrow alleys in Nanguan are said to date back to that time. Wei Yijie, a prominent official of the early Qing Dynasty, wrote a poem vividly depicting that era: *“At the Huai Post, I sorrowfully hear the cries of the spotted horse;* *The rainbow-hued bridge winds beside the freshly cleared sky.* *By the flag-tavern, we drink and part in spring fields,* *On the old bridge, I yearn for loved ones under the moon’s expanse.* *Nearby, rice and grain feed geese and ducks aplenty,* *Layered green mountains fill the window frame.* *I will not fish by Tong River’s side,* *But face this glistening water, vast and deep.”* “Sorrowfully hearing the spotted horse’s cry at the Huai Post” reflects the traveler’s reluctance to leave home, dreading the sound of the horse that signals departure. “By the flag-tavern, we drink and part in spring fields, on the old bridge, I yearn for loved ones under the moon’s expanse” — in front of the bridge, beside the main road, taverns stood with fluttering flags and bustling shops, where people bid farewell to loved ones. And to welcome them back, they’d wait at the bridgehead, listening to the murmuring waters under moonlight, staring into the distance until the moon was high, unwilling to leave. Such scenes, intertwined, formed a truly moving picture. Yet, times have changed. Since the late Qing Dynasty, when the Beijing-Hankou Railway was built and post offices were established, the imperial road, the pass, and the post station fulfilled their historical roles and faded away naturally.