Beihai Park – Rediscovering Childhood Joy, September 2022 (Part 1)

Born in the 1960s, the happiest moments of my primary and middle school years were the spring and autumn outings. Back then, we usually went to parks, mostly in the city or suburbs, like the Summer Palace, Beihai Park, Zhongshan Park, and so on. The news of an outing would keep me excited for days. My parents would prepare bread, biscuits, and other treats for me to take along. Some families who were struggling would pack a piece of flatbread, and some even brought sweet potatoes or corn buns. Hardly anyone brought water, let alone drinks—it seems drinks didn’t exist back then anyway. We all drank tap water, which in Beijing slang was called ‘drinking from the spigot.’ The water in the parks seemed fancier; there were special drinking fountains for visitors, the same water but with a finer, upward-pointing spout. That water tasted sweet and refreshing, far better than today's purified water.

Kids back then had so many outdoor games to play: hitting the ‘ga’ (a wooden block), sliding on ice carts, spinning tops, marbles, flicking cigarette cards, playing ‘root-pulling,’ pushing iron hoops, flying homemade kites, and so on. From before school to after school, we ran wild through the streets, carefree and happy. But we rarely went to parks, so a school-organized park trip was especially alluring to us children. Once we arrived, we were like a flock of joyful birds, chirping nonstop. Even though we didn’t understand much about the park or know how to appreciate it properly, the novelty, the happiness, and the feeling of total freedom—these are things I still deeply miss.

As I’ve grown older, seen more of the world, and my living conditions improved, happiness has become increasingly elusive. I often travel to other places, but I hardly visit Beijing’s parks anymore. The joyful times of childhood are indelible memories. Since the pandemic kept me from traveling far, I decided to revisit Beijing’s parks properly and search for those happy memories from my youth. It’s been truly wonderful.

“Let Us Sway Twin Oars” was the most familiar song of my childhood. Whenever I sang it, the images in my mind were always the red walls and the White Pagoda, boats gently rocking, and cheerful laughter—as if this song were the promotional poster for Beihai Park.

Among Beijing’s parks, Beihai Park was the one I visited most as a child. One reason was its proximity, and the other was the cheap admission. In the 1970s, it was probably fifty fen. Even so, spending fifty fen on a park trip wasn’t exactly cheap for an average family. So we could only go a few times a year, and if we got to row a boat, it was like celebrating the New Year—utter bliss.

Beihai Park is located in the city center, with Jingshan Park to the east, Zhongnanhai to the south, and Shichahai to the north. The park centered around the lake, Beihai, mainly consists of Qionghua Island, the eastern shore, the northern shore, and the Tuancheng (Circular City) scenic areas. Xiaoxitian (Little Western Heaven), the Nine-Dragon Screen, the White Pagoda, Yong’an Temple, Tuancheng, and the Jade Jar are the park’s highlights.

The history of Beihai Park can be traced back to the Liao and Jin dynasties. By the eighth year of the Zhiyuan era of the Yuan Dynasty, it had already become a sizable imperial garden. Through continuous renovations and expansions during the Ming and Qing dynasties, numerous pavilions, terraces, halls, and chambers were built. In the eighth year of Shunzhi in the Qing Dynasty, to foster ethnic harmony, Emperor Shunzhi ordered the construction of a Tibetan-style White Pagoda on Qionghua Island at the request of the Tibetan Lama Naomu Khan, with the White Pagoda Temple built in front of it. In the twenty-sixth year of Guangxu, the Eight-Nation Alliance invaded Beijing, and Beihai was ravaged. After the founding of New China, the government allocated substantial funds to restore Beihai Park: the lake was dredged, ancient buildings repaired, and the park was given a completely new look, becoming a favorite among Beijing residents.

(Photos from the internet)

This time, my visit to Beihai Park took two half-days, both entering through the North Gate. On the first day, I mainly explored Qionghua Island; on the second, I visited the northern, western, and eastern shores.

Day One: Entered through the North Gate just after 6 a.m., when it opened. At that hour, the park was filled only with elderly people doing their morning exercises, and it was very quiet.

Walking south along the eastern shore of Taiye Lake, the water was as calm as a mirror, with weeping willows gently swaying along the bank, their lush green foliage interspersed with glimpses of halls and towers.

Why is the lake at Beihai called Taiye Lake?

During the Western Han Dynasty, Emperor Wu had water diverted from Kunming Lake to the northwest of his Jianzhang Palace to excavate a large pond named Taiye Lake. Three islands were built in the pond to symbolize the three mythical fairy mountains of the Eastern Sea: Yingzhou, Penglai, and Fangzhang. This was the first imperial garden in history featuring a complete “One Pond, Three Hills” layout, which became the standard model for imperial gardens right up to the Qing Dynasty.

In the Zhenguan era of the Tang Dynasty, when Daming Palace was built, water from Longshou Canal was brought in to form “Penglai Pond,” also called “Taiye Lake.”

In the Yuan Dynasty, Beijing gained its own Taiye Lake, which corresponds to today’s Beihai and Zhonghai.

In the Ming Dynasty, the Yuan layout of Taiye Lake was preserved and expanded southward by excavating Nanhai (South Lake), enlarging the water area and establishing the arrangement of North, Middle, and South Seas.

Thus, Taiye Lake is the collective name for all three seas. Beihai became a public park, while Zhonghai and Nanhai became the offices of China’s top leadership.

The contrast between the architecture outside the park and the scenery inside is rather striking, and I don’t find it very harmonious. I wonder what the original planners and designers were thinking. Shouldn’t the landscaping concept of “borrowed scenery” from the Summer Palace be taken as a lesson here? At the very least, it shouldn’t detract from the park’s own scenery.

The White Pagoda rises amid thick greenery, while a long corridor nestles along the shore of Taiye Lake.

Zhishan Bridge lies directly opposite the East Gate; crossing the bridge brings you up to Qionghua Island. This bridge was rebuilt from an older one in the fifth year of Qianlong’s reign. The entire structure is solid and corrosion-resistant, with granite foundations and a body and triple arch all made of fired blue bricks.

Continuing south, I reached a stretch of lotus pond. To the southwest, Tuancheng was faintly visible. Occasionally, a lotus bud could be seen just about to bloom. Mandarin ducks played in the water; one was particularly striking, with multicolored feathers—a real “Lord of the Splendid Beard.”

The White Pagoda became clearer and clearer amid the sea of green. The lake water was sapphire blue, the trees emerald green, the White Pagoda and a white bridge reflected on the water’s surface, with a majestic ornamental archway standing with its back to the hills.

Walking west along the shore, I arrived at a bridgehead where a wooden archway stands, inscribed with the words “Jicui” (Accumulated Verdure). This archway dates back to the Yuan Dynasty, over 700 years old, and has been repaired many times. It is a four-pillar, three-bay, three-eave structure with a green glazed-tile hip-and-gable roof. “Jicui” describes the lush, densely wooded greenery of Qionghua Island, dripping with emerald freshness.

Ornamental archways are common in Beijing, with the greatest concentration in the Summer Palace and Beihai. I used to think the Summer Palace had more, but actually Beihai boasts 16 while the Summer Palace has 15, so Beihai has one more. Of course, some in the Summer Palace were destroyed over time. Beihai’s archways, both in density and number, are the most impressive. If you visit Beihai, be sure to take note of them. When I have time, I’ll certainly come back to admire each one in detail.

In front of the archway stand a pair of stone lions, fierce in posture, mouths open and baring teeth, eyes blazing.

South of the Jicui Archway lies Tuancheng (the Circular City), to its north, a stone bridge—Chang’an Bridge. Tuancheng is currently not open to visitors.

Yong’an Bridge was originally a wooden bridge from the Yuan Dynasty. In the eighth year of Qianlong, it was rebuilt as a triple-curved, triple-arch stone bridge with balustrades on both sides. It was fully repaired and reinforced in 1979. This broad stone bridge connects Qionghua Island and Tuancheng, flanked at both ends by ancient stone lions and ornamental archways. It is the largest bridge in Beihai Park. You could say that Yong’an Bridge and the White Pagoda together are the very emblem of Beihai Park.

At the north end of Yong’an Bridge stands another wooden archway identical to the Jicui Archway, this one bearing the inscription “Duiyun” (Piled Clouds). The two archways face each other north-south, so Yong’an Bridge is also known as the “Jicui Duiyun Bridge.”

On both sides north of the archway, there is another pair of stone lions. Unlike those at the Jicui Archway, these face north, toward Yong’an Temple. Because they are so close to the temple’s entrance gate, many people assume they guard the temple. This gave rise to an old Beijing saying: “The lions of Yong’an Temple—head facing inward,” used to describe someone who thinks only of themselves, “head buried without a thought for the rear,” or being selfish. Why the lions face inward is still to be verified.

Directly north of this archway is the entrance to Yong’an Temple. Flanking both sides of the gate are three bronze ornaments that are quite fascinating: a bronze crane, symbolizing longevity, good fortune, and nobility; a bronze turtle—a dragon-headed turtle body, said to be the eldest of the nine dragon sons, representing rising through the ranks and striving to be first. The most interesting is a bronze incense burner made of three cranes joined together, each lifting one leg and bending its neck to preen its feathers. I’d never seen a bronze piece like this before. Pondering its meaning, it likely symbolizes peace, friendship, and serenity, perhaps conveying “universal celebration.”

Since it was still early and Yong’an Temple hadn’t opened yet, I strolled westward. Not far, I came across a white marble bridge—the Small Jade Belt Bridge with its triple curves. (I also saw it later from the western shore.) On the west side of Qionghua Island, an artificial hill encloses a tiny inner lake, and at its mouth lies this triple-curved Jade Belt Bridge, creating a garden scene of rockery, blue-brick rooms, lotus pond, and the delicate bridge. Built in the 17th year of Qianlong, the bridge is unusual for its triple-bend stone arch design, with a round arch at the middle bend. Its balustrades and railings undulate like a jade belt, hence the name.

Linguang Three Halls form the main sight on the western slope of Qionghua Island. These three halls are built against the hillside, rising level by level: the lowest is Linguang Hall, the middle is Ganlu Hall, and the highest is Shuijingyu. On the shore, two uninscribed archways stand separately.

As I continued to the northwest corner, I found the path blocked by construction, so I took a small uphill path north of Linguang Hall. The view of the northern shore was very pleasant. From a height, I could observe the architecture of Linguang Hall and savor the beauty of classical Chinese buildings. The roof features glazed tiles in yellow, green, and blue arranged in patterns; the main ridge is carved with dragons, with large green glazed chiwen at both ends; on the hip ridges are green glazed qiang beasts, three seated beasts, and at the very front an immortal riding a chicken. The craftsmanship is exquisite, the layout refined, the colors exquisite—fully expressing the beauty of traditional Chinese architecture.

Further up to Xixiu Pavilion, I was already very close to the White Pagoda, but with time to spare and energy left, I retraced my steps and entered through the temple gate.

At 8:10, I bought a ticket for 10 yuan and entered Yong’an Temple to ascend the island and see the White Pagoda.

Yong’an Temple was built on the southern slope of Qionghua Island in 1651. During the Qing Dynasty, a Tibetan-style white stupa was constructed on the ruins of a previous hall, and a temple was built in front of it, named White Pagoda Temple. After renovations in 1743, it was renamed Yong’an Temple. The White Pagoda is the highest point of the temple, facing south. From the entrance gate upward, there are successively: Falun Hall, the Longguang Zizhao Archway, Zhengjue Hall, Pu’an Hall, Shanyin Hall, and finally the White Pagoda.

In the first courtyard after the gate is the main hall—Falun Hall, housing a statue of Sakyamuni Buddha. To its sides stand drum and bell towers. A bronze incense burner in the courtyard is particularly unusual, its legs topped with carved human faces—I don’t know what they signify. The stone pedestal, though simply carved, also has a strong sense of age.

Climbing the steps, I came to a wooden archway inscribed with “Longguang” (Dragon Radiance) on the front, words that convey the supreme authority and solemnity of imperial power. The reverse side reads “Zizhao” (Purple Illumination), referring to the glow of auspicious purple vapour—both are portents of good fortune. The archway is exquisitely crafted, with dougong brackets, painted patterns, and decorative panels all carved with dragons and gilded, every detail showing imperial grandeur.

Passing through it, to the north and on either side are two pavilions: to the east, Pavilion of “Yinsheng” (Inviting Victory), which contains a stone tablet of Qianlong’s “General Record of White Pagoda Hill”; to the west, Pavilion of “Di’ai” (Cleansing Mist), holding a tablet of “Record of the Four Sides of White Pagoda Hill.” Both inscriptions are by the emperor. To the north of the pavilions and in many places on the island, there are piles of Taihu Lake stones, which were originally collected from the Taihu region south of the Yangtze for Emperor Huizong of the Song Dynasty’s imperial garden in Bianliang. Later, when Emperor Shizong of the Jin Dynasty built the Daning Palace in Beihai, these stones were transported here to adorn Qionghua Island.

North of the Yinsheng Pavilion stands a stone tablet engraved on its south face with two large characters: “Kunlun.” This is the Kunlun Stone of Beihai, erected in the seventh year of Qianlong. The striking calligraphy is by the emperor himself. On the back and sides are three poems by Qianlong. At the base, there is a square hole on each of the east and west sides, and from these holes grows a juniper tree about 80 years old, creating a remarkable combination of tree and stone called “Ancient Branch on the Stone.”

Behind the Kunlun Stone, a cave called Lengjia Grotto, built from Taihu Lake stones, houses a stone Buddha.

Further up is Zhengjue Hall, dedicated to Maitreya, the Future Buddha, and Skanda. On either side stand the “Yunyi” (Cloud Attachment) and “Yiyuan” (Distant Thought) pavilions. Above Zhengjue Hall is Pu’an Hall, which enshrines a statue of Tsongkhapa, the founder of the Gelug school of Tibetan Buddhism. The main ridge features large green glazed chiwen at both ends, and a dragon pearl motif in the middle, vividly rendered. To the sides are east and west side halls: the east is Shengguo Hall, the west Zongjing Hall. South of Zongjing Hall, a small gate leads to Yuexin Hall to the west. In the front corridor of the main hall, on either side, are prayer wheels engraved with the Kalachakra mantra.

Beyond Pu’an Hall, climbing up a wooden staircase, I finally reached the foot of the White Pagoda. In front of it is a small square hall—Shanyin Hall—built in the 16th year of Qianlong, a full century later than Yong’an Temple and the White Pagoda (1651). Its roof is a double-eaved style with a round top over a square base, symbolizing “round heaven and square earth.” The north, east, and west walls have no doors or windows; the south-facing facade has four finely wrought bronze lattice doors. The outer walls are inlaid with 455 seated statues of the White Umbrella Green Tara. Inside, the hall enshrines a copper-gilt statue of Yamantaka, the guardian deity of Beijing (the original was destroyed during the Cultural Revolution and replaced with a faithful replica in the 1990s). Above it is a splendid Tangka-style cast-iron caisson ceiling, an original Qianlong-era piece and one of Beihai’s most precious relics. Shanyin Hall is exquisitely beautiful, with its appliqué, sparrow brackets, corner beasts, chiwen, qiang beasts, and ridge animals all so refined that the entire building is like a work of art.

At the foot of the White Pagoda. I remember that as a child, we could freely climb up to the White Pagoda; now it’s ticketed along with Yong’an Temple, and the area inside the stone balustrade is off-limits. The White Pagoda, a Tibetan-style stupa (also called an inverted-bowl pagoda), is the symbol of Beihai Park. Built in the eighth year of Shunzhi in the early Qing, it stands on a former hill—the site of the Guanghan Hall on Qionghua Island of the Jin dynasty’s Daning Palace. Upon the advice of the Tibetan Lama Naomu Khan, the pagoda and temple were built.

Over the centuries, it has been repaired many times. In the 18th year of Kangxi, an earthquake in Beijing destroyed it; it was rebuilt two years later, and a commemorative stele was erected halfway up the southeast slope of Qionghua Island. In the eighth year of Yongzheng, another quake damaged it, and it was repaired by the tenth year. In 1976, the Tangshan earthquake shook Beijing, damaging the spire, and the jeweled top tilted westward onto the heavenly disc. During restoration, workers discovered a two-inch square gilded box inside the central pillar, painted with a yin-yang diagram on its lid and containing two Buddhist relics.

The pagoda is a mixed structure of brick, wood, and stone, consisting of a base, a body, a spire of thirteen rings, a canopy, and a finial. The body is in the inverted-bowl style, so only brick and stone are visible externally, with no wooden framework apparent; the mid-section is rounded, and the upper part is topped by a slender thirteen-ringed spire. The whole body has 306 square ventilation openings of openwork blue brick, allowing air to circulate around the wooden framework. A vertical juniper wood pillar, the central axis of the pagoda, runs from the base to the very tip of the finial.

On the south face, at the center, is the “Kalachakra Gate,” framed with western passionflower motifs and a red-lacquered wooden panel with gold Tibetan script of the Kalachakra mantra, known as the “Ten-Phase Auspicious Diagram,” symbolizing “good fortune and fulfillment of wishes.” This diagram, a deeply esoteric symbol of the Kalachakra tradition, comprises seven Sanskrit syllables plus the symbols for sun, moon, and a circle—ten elements in all. It was written by the revered Qing-dynasty Tibetan Buddhist leader Zhangjia Khutukhtu.

The pagoda is encircled by a white marble balustrade, which I sense was added later; I don’t recall it from childhood, when it seemed you could reach out and touch the pagoda.

At the top, there is a two-tier gilded copper canopy: the lower tier is the earth disc, the upper the heaven disc. From the earth disc hang 16 copper wind chimes, each hexagonal and cast with the six-syllable mantra. The heaven disc is cast in relief with eight auspicious symbols: the wheel, conch, umbrella, canopy, flower, vase, fish, and endless knot. In the middle is a hemispherical dome, atop which is a rectangular pedestal supporting a gilded flame-jewel finial. This includes a cast copper and gilded crescent moon and sun, with the moon below and the sun above; above the sun is an inverted lotus pedestal with a large heart-shaped jewel, surrounded by blazing flames, symbolizing the Buddhist teachings radiating like sun and moon, illuminating the earth eternally.

At the base of the White Pagoda sit two old cannons—not for combat. In the early Qing, the emperor feared rebellion, so if someone attacked Beijing or the Forbidden City, an alarm needed to be raised. Someone suggested firing cannons. Thus, five cannons were placed at Beihai’s highest point on Qionghua Island, in the city center but not too startlingly close to the emperor. Like beacon fires of old, the sound of cannon fire was the signal—the emperor was calling for help.

From this highest point on Qionghua Island, I looked down upon clear water, lush forests, and halls and towers playing off each other in a delightful composition. From the White Pagoda, one can descend to the lakeside buildings on the north side of the island, but due to construction, that side was entirely closed, so I walked eastward down.

Banyue (Half-Moon) City lies at the eastern foot of Qionghua Island, facing east and opposite Zhishan Bridge; it was built in the 16th year of Qianlong. Zhizhu Hall sits on the raised platform of Banyue City, majestic with its red walls and green tiles. Four ornamental archways—a symmetrical arrangement—face it from all sides, and opposite is a fifth archway, making a unique centrally symmetrical layout.

To the northwest and southwest of Zhizhu Hall, two archways each stand symmetrically; all are identical in style and specifications, with no inscribed tablets.

From the platform in front of Zhizhu Hall, you can see the distant silhouette of the CITIC Tower (Zhongguo Zun) and clearly make out the halls and pavilions of Jingshan Park.

Descending from the north side of Zhizhu Hall, past Jianchun Pavilion, you come upon the Qiongdao Chunyin Stele. Qionghua Island is beautiful, especially in spring. When spring comes, the White Pagoda, the temple gate, stone archways, Zhizhu Hall, Jianchun Pavilion, and the surrounding scenery blend into one famous scene among the Eight Great Sights of Yanjing: “Qiongdao Chunyin” (Spring Shade on Qionghua Island). The stele bearing Qianlong’s own calligraphy stands in the northeast corner of the island. Square in shape, it is carved with intertwined floral patterns on all sides, with an imperial poem on the back, and surrounded by exquisitely carved white marble balustrades. The stele’s base is beautifully carved, and besides intricate patterns around the pedestal, a set of deities is carved into its sides, each vivid and lively. The top is a four-sided pyramidal roof with a dragon carved on each of the four ridges—absolutely a masterpiece of stone carving.

Heading right from the Qiongdao Chunyin Stele downhill, you arrive at the head of Zhishan Bridge and the archway directly facing Zhizhu Hall—the Zhizhu Archway, the largest of the five around Zhizhu Hall. Also called the Zhishan Bridge Archway, it is a four-pillar, three-bay, three-eave, gilded-glazed roof wooden archway without an inscribed tablet, situated at the bridgehead to enticing effect. On its main ridge are large chiwen, and on the hip ridges are qiang beasts, three seated beasts, and an immortal riding a chicken. Built along with Banyue City in the 16th year of Qianlong, it features a mesh-like “cloud-head ruyi bracket set,” and beneath the brackets, on the outer side of the ornamental boards, hang an extra row of pendant flowers, giving it an extremely ornate and imposing look. Multi-layered cloud-head ruyi bracket arches of this kind are very rare—they can only be found at Yunju Temple and Yonghe Lamasery in Beijing. Ming and Qing wooden archways all had support poles; surviving examples with these poles are already few, and those also with mythical beasts are even rarer. The Zhizhu Archway faces east, with two support poles on its west side and four on its east. Beneath each pole is a stone-carved mythical beast, six in total, done in full-relief style and incredibly lifelike. Under the two west poles are dragons; on the east side, the outermost are stone lions, and the two inner ones are qilin.

Crossing Zhishan Bridge, I walked along the eastern shore and exited through the North Gate, ending the first day’s visit.