Eating My Way Through Yandu Ancient Town
Mention Yi County out of the blue, and many will have no idea where it is. But mention the Yishui River immortalized in the verse ‘The wind howls, the Yishui is cold...', the legendary Jing Ke who tried to assassinate the Qin king, and the Five Heroes of Langya Mountain who fought to the death — well, suddenly the name rings with fame. Yes, the Yishui River, Jing Ke, and Langya Mountain are all in Yi County, in the heart of Hebei.
My first trip to Yi County was in early spring, setting out from Beijing. The wind was biting, whipping grains of sand against my face with a stinging, knife-sharp pain. The sky was high, the sunlight casting cold, indifferent shadows. I took the subway from Shunyi to Liuliqiao and boarded a bus bound for Yi County.
The north is so incredibly flat! As someone raised in the south, I couldn’t help but marvel. The highway stretched dead straight, flanked by endless, pancake-flat farmland that converged at a distant point with a low line of hills. Rows of windbreaks stood like soldiers, rigid and upright, swaying over the vast earth. A glimpse of a farmhouse here and there looked charmingly squat and tiny against it all. The one-hour drive passed too quickly—I had barely drunk in this simple, natural beauty when Yi County appeared. Thank you, flat-as-a-board Jingkun Expressway.
- "Yi County’s here—where should I drop you?" the driver asked.
- "I’m, uh, I’ve never been here, so I’m not sure where’s best..." I mumbled, my accent a hopeless mix.
- "I’ll put you off at the ancient town. There are places to eat and stay, not far from the county center. Right by the Yishui River—you know the Yishui River, right? The wind howls, the Yishui is cold..." The driver was already warming up to recite the whole poem.
- "Okay, the ancient town it is!" I nodded like a pecking chicken, cutting short his poetic flight.
It was barely six, but the sky was already almost pitch black. I got off the bus and was met by a towering gate tower in the style of the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, emblazoned with the characters 'Yandu Ancient City'. Rows of houses stretched away from it, winding into the distance, all trimmed with lights. Against the black velvet sky, the neon outlined classic, elegant lines. I took a deep breath. The air was freezing, turning my breath to frost, crisp and piercing. It had the same chill as Beijing’s air, but was much cleaner and sharper, without that gritty roughness.
I walked along the main street of the ancient town. Most shops had already pulled down their shutters, with just one or two still open. It was cold, and few people were out strolling, yet I could make out faint music. Further on, I spotted what looked like a hotel. Ha! What joy! In the freezing dark, it was like a lighthouse beckoning me forward. I sped up—Xuhang Hotel! Now I could read the sign. A southerner with a runny nose from the biting wind, I slipped eagerly into the bright lobby. A wave of warm air hit me, and the sudden change turned my face as red as a persimmon. Ahh... I let out a long breath. This must be heaven.
After checking in and dropping my bags—without even looking at the room—I dashed back out into the cold night, drawn by the distant music. I followed it to a square, where a huge fire pit blazed at the center. Flames flickered and leaped in the night, sending up little sparks like excited tagalongs—they jostled upward, exploding or floating free at their peak. A group of people danced merrily around the fire, and I joined in, spinning and jumping to the music, eyes closed. The fire lit everyone’s smiling faces bright red. Cold? What cold?
After the bonfire dancing, I felt ravenously hungry and headed straight for another cozy, warm glow—a barbecue place called Old Boy BBQ. Grilling skewers has got to be the nation’s favorite late-night indulgence, bar none! Watching tender meat sizzle on the grill, a drop of hot oil slowly gliding along its fatty grain before dripping onto the coals and sending up a puff of fragrant smoke... Once brushed with chili sauce, dusted with cumin, and smothered in scallions, it was impossible to resist! Burning hot or not, I took a huge bite. Wow! Bliss! My whole mouth was ablaze with happiness. The meat, kissed by charcoal, was already bursting with flavor; enhanced by the spices, it became even more savory—tender, crispy, salty, numbing—all dancing at once on my tongue. What could be more important than a foodie feasting on barbecue to their heart’s content? Boss! Another ten skewers! In the dark ancient town, under the yellowish glow of the barbecue stand, amid swirling white smoke, all you could see was one silhouette eating on and on, long into the night...
Well fed and content, I returned to my hotel and flopped onto the bed, relishing the warmth while checking out the room. It was decorated in Chinese style: dark-red wooden furniture, a plush carpet, a big cozy bed with clean sheets and pillows, the heater humming nicely. Mmm, not bad... *burp*... As I thought this, sleep swept over me like a tidal wave, and my eyelids gave up resistance in an instant...
The next day, the sound of bustling noise drifted in through the window. After wolfing down a few bites from the hotel’s buffet breakfast, I rushed downstairs. I had stumbled onto an antique street. They sold everything from old trinkets—curios dating back to the Ming and Qing dynasties, to recent things like Butterfly-brand sewing machines—and novelties too, from giant gourds to tiny embroidery needles. It was a dazzling array, testing both your eye for treasure and your bargaining skills. Stallholders, all collecting enthusiasts, hawked their wares while savvy shoppers haggled—a lively scene. Me, completely unversed in the art of collecting, still threw myself into it, bargaining in my mangled, fake local accent. After mustering all my skill, I managed to haggle a pair of walnuts down from 50 to 45 yuan. I was thrilled!
Tossing my newly-acquired walnuts in my hand, I strolled contentedly along the Yishui River. The wind was chilly, but after my triumphant bargaining, I didn’t feel the cold—instead it felt invigoratingly fresh. The river was wide, covered with a very thin layer of ice. Against the blue sky, it sparkled like a giant sapphire, crystal-clear. Beneath the ice, the water flowed gently, pulling at the weeds, and if you crouched down, you could spot little fish hiding among them, moving leisurely, waiting for spring to arrive. A few ducks pushed through the thin ice, waddling around on the water with complete nonchalance. As the ancients said, ‘In the spring river, the ducks are the first to know when the water warms.’ That’s exactly what this was like.
‘The wind howls, the Yishui is cold, the hero leaves, never to return...’ Standing on the ancient banks of the Yishui, weathered by time, I felt a surge of emotion and a wild urge to cry out to the sky. Behind the ancient town, on a high slope, stood the Jing Ke Pagoda, braving the chill daylight and millennia of wind and frost, like a lonely, towering monument, bearing witness to the tragic heroism of this place.
After walking along the riverbank, I turned back into the ancient town. A stove that looked just like the furnace of Taishang Laojun (the alchemist god) immediately caught my eye. It was steaming hot, and a red-and-yellow antique-style flag fluttered above, with ‘Ganglu Shaobing’ (clay oven flatbread) written on it. They say this is a very famous snack in Hebei. The ingredients are simple—just ordinary flour—but the secret lies in the right amount of salt in the dough and precise control of the baking heat. Since I’d stumbled upon it, I had to try. An old man was lounging lazily by the stove. Before I even got close, he raised his eyes and sized me up: ‘10 yuan a bag.’ I nearly jumped. Did my foodie aura radiate so strongly? He’d nailed it perfectly. I paid and took the bread. I examined it closely: it was about the size of a woman’s compact powder case, a beautiful golden color, round, topped with roasted white sesame seeds, and crispy on both sides.
Carrying the flatbread (it smelled so good!), I munched on it as I wandered into Babai Lou. To my surprise, Babai Lou turned out to be a hidden gem in the ancient town—it was a cultural and arts center! Inside, it housed a century-old newspaper office, a calligraphy and painting exhibition hall, a Yi County folk customs display area, and a Yan culture experience hall... The whole building was steeped in culture and art. After exploring this museum-like Babai Lou, I learned that Yi County was anciently called Yizhou and has over 1,400 years of history. It was the territory of the State of Yan, one of the seven warring states. The ancient Yan culture of Yizhou, together with the Zhao culture of Handan, formed the well-known ‘Yan-Zhao culture’. Yi County is not only the home of historical figures like Sun Bin and Zhao Mengfu, but also the setting for the stirring stories of Jing Ke and the Five Heroes of Langya Mountain, still eulogized along the flowing Yishui. Records even suggest that Yi County is the birthplace of the I Ching! Truly, a land of treasures and brilliance. Even the name Babai Lou has a significant origin—it’s said to be inspired by the classic story of ‘sworn brotherhood of eight worships’ (Eight Oaths of Brotherhood). No wonder it’s the cultural and aesthetic heart of the ancient town!
Standing in the slanting sun of the ancient town with flatbread in hand, my mind filled with images of a leisurely life here: a little café shop with fragrant coffee, a chubby orange tabby, a golden retriever. Sunlight streaming through the window onto a soft sofa, the cat stretching, the dog dozing, and me sitting watching the crowds go by. At night, I’d go home to a traditional Chinese courtyard house—opening the door to water, closing the door to keep in the breeze, with winding corridors and red doors with carved floral hangings. Everyone has a dream of home, and an innate instinct to be close to nature. A Chinese courtyard home is what this city-dweller dreams of, longing for a space that cultivates warm, natural comfort.
Ah, but right now I just rued being a broke dreamer, and the flatbread in my hand suddenly lost its flavor...
