Nanjing Through a Local’s Eyes: A Day at Yanque Lake

Date: April 2021.

Mode: Cycling.

Location: Meihua Valley Road, Xuanwu District, Nanjing.

Route: Gate 2 of Ming Xiaoling — Yanque Lake — Taixiang Zhaoming — Meihua Valley — Pili Tingquan — Gate 3 of Ming Xiaoling — Meihua Valley Road — Gate 2 of Ming Xiaoling.

Meihua Valley Road runs through the Zhongshan Mausoleum scenic area. I ride along it once a week, year after year, absorbing its four-season beauty. In spring, willows sway, peach blossoms blush beside green buds, and patches of February orchid (Orychophragmus violaceus) sprinkle the grass. Summer brings lush, wild greenery. Autumn paints the scene in a layered oil masterpiece of crimson and gold. Winter strips the branches bare, creating a different kind of poetry. No matter the season or the hour, this place fills me with gratitude — passing through is always a joy.

The road hugs Yanque Lake, which also encloses part of the Ming Xiaoling scenic area. The lake’s southern shore is open, with traffic skimming past the edge of the scenic zone. The northern shore, including the lake itself, belongs entirely to Ming Xiaoling.

While writing this travelogue, I did a quick online search and was surprised to find that what I’ve always called Yanque Lake is labeled Meihua Lake on Gaode Maps. Historically, Nanjing’s original Yanque Lake was actually today’s Qian Lake and Pipa Lake. The lake I’ve known as Yanque Lake is a man‑made reservoir dug in 2005 during the construction of Meihua Valley. Now, Qian Lake, Pipa Lake, and this newer Yanque Lake are three pearls at the foot of Purple Mountain and the Ming City Wall. Still, locals like me keep calling it Yanque Lake.

Usually I just drive past, glimpsing the seasons through the car window. Today, after leaving Zhongshan Botanical Garden, I was on my electric scooter, enjoying the freedom it gives. It was already past 6 p.m., but when I spotted staff still at Gate 2 of Ming Xiaoling on Meihua Valley Road, I guessed the scenic area hadn’t closed yet. I parked, asked, and learned it was indeed still open. Flashing my medical worker card, I entered through Gate 2 — the western entrance to Ming Xiaoling, right on Meihua Valley Road. To the right of the gate, on a small slope, February orchids bloomed in a blue-purple haze.

Ming Xiaoling is sprawling and packed with sights. A ticket includes Dajinmen, Sifangcheng, the Stone Elephant Road, Wengzhong Road, the Xiaoling Tomb itself, the Dongling ruins, the Xiaoling Museum, Yan Zhenqing’s forest of steles, Zixia Lake, the Red Mansion Art Garden, Meihua Mountain, and this Meihua Valley. The plum blossom is Nanjing’s city flower, and Meihua Mountain has been famous since the Republican era. Every February and March, a month-long plum blossom festival draws millions of visitors seeking blossoms in the snow. The southern expansion of Meihua Mountain has stretched the plum-viewing area all the way to the iconic Stone Elephant Road, the Zhongshan Mausoleum Park Avenue, and the Shanghai‑Nanjing Expressway connector, merging with the Ming City Wall scenic belt and Qian Lake. Now the plum-viewing grounds spread from a single hill — Meihua Mountain — to the entire southwestern valley of Purple Mountain: Meihua Valley.

Here, at the southern slope of Meihua Valley,

Yanque Lake ripples, ringed by slopes where vegetation shifts with the seasons. Pavilions dot the shore, fantastical rock islands rise from the water, and graceful black swans glide by.

Metasequoia trunks stand tall and dense on the hillsides, while February orchids sweep across the slopes in bold strokes.

Under the setting sun, the colors turn even more magical.

Backlit and front-lit, the same scene looks utterly different in photos.

Along the lake, hundreds of bald cypresses, pond cypresses, and metasequoias — all varieties with brilliant autumn foliage — tower above the February orchid carpet.

At the slope’s foot, Yanque Lake and the expanded Meihua Mountain complement each other, water and hill embracing, with layered vegetation from high trees to low blooms.

The beauty lingered, and so did the visitors. I heard a child pleading with parents, who promised, “Finish your homework early tomorrow and we’ll come again.”

A serious photographer was capturing every subtle change.

Framing the view between two trees, I saw February orchids in the foreground, Yanque Lake and its islets in the middle distance, and the winding southern shoreline — a picture of a waterfront flower border.

So fresh, so elegant — these February orchids.

Through a small grove, I reached the lake’s edge and faced this 80-mu (about 13 acres) man‑made lake, shaped by the existing terrain — Yanque Lake. The water curves like a bow, clear and bright, its vast surface mirror‑calm. Reflections double the scene, making the union of water and hill even more profound.

I strolled counterclockwise from north to east, my mood as light as the February orchids alongside.

At the eastern shore, I looked back. On the northern slope, the February orchids formed gorgeous patches of color.

Someone had set up a tripod here, waiting with unhurried patience. Photography, too, demands patience.

In the distance, trees on the slopes, February orchids spreading like paint; in the middle ground, a cypress grove and withered golden reeds in the water; close by, bands of aquatic plants — together, a beautiful landscape painting.

I’d always admired the lake from across the water. Today, I could finally get close and study it — a small delight.

By a pavilion, a deck stretched over the lake, where visitors lean on the railing and take in the view.

From the eastern shore to the west, Meihua Valley Road was visible.

Tall, thick, lush trees.

I followed a hillside path round to the east side of the pavilion.

There, to my surprise, several hydrangea shrubs were in full bloom. Snow-white clusters like balls weighed down the branches. Their fragrance drifted around the pavilion.

The pavilion has a name: Taixiang Zhaoming.

Halfway up the slope beside it stands a statue of Xiao Tong reading. Xiao Tong, eldest son of Emperor Wu of the Liang dynasty, was the most famous writer of his time. Dying young, he left behind a reputation for hard study, and many places claim a “Zhaoming Reading Terrace.”

Nanjing built this memorial by Yanque Lake — “Taixiang Zhaoming” — as a reading terrace for Crown Prince Zhaoming.

Looking closely, each hydrangea ball is made of countless tiny four-petaled flowers. Alone, they’re nothing special, but clustered together they form a snowball of a family.

Red camellias and white hydrangeas played off each other.

Taixiang Zhaoming is a red, traditional-style pavilion with a gable-and-hip roof overlooking the water. A plaque reads “A Model of Literature.” Six pillars carry three couplets.

It’s no longer a reading terrace — now a shop selling cultural and creative goods.

Passing through the pavilion, I reached the generous waterside platform beyond.

The west side of the pavilion faces the lake directly. Above the main plaque, four characters: “Taixiang Zhaoming.” The red structure stands out vividly against all the green.

From the platform, I looked north.

Not far off, Zhongshan Mountain loomed. Slopes layered with vegetation, a sheet of green water and its aquatic plants, sunset ripples — and with so few visitors at dusk, it felt especially serene and graceful.

White swans drifted on the lake.

Leaving the pavilion, a few steps led me higher. The hydrangeas on either side, with their simple white, brought a different kind of beauty to Nanjing’s riotous spring.

From below, against the blue sky, the white hydrangeas looked pure and perfect.

On this slope there was even a deer park — but it had already closed, so I couldn’t go inside.

This modest patch gathered purple, red, yellow, and white splashes, side by side like a palette.

Ming Xiaoling really is packed with interest! I’d only breezed through one corner, not even needing a ticket. If you plan a proper visit, set aside a whole day to make the full loop.

I headed toward Gate 3. Yanque Lake may be artificial, but it’s fed by natural streams. East of Meihua Valley, there used to be a gully called Pili Gully — the outer moat of the Ming Xiaoling tomb area. Legend says that in rain, the water thundered like lightning, so it was named Pili Tingquan (Thundering Spring). The stream’s trickling water joins Meihua Creek and flows merrily into the lake year-round, keeping it full.

On the southeast side, the lake narrows into a long strip, with richer scenery. Plants, a small arched bridge, white walls, and inscribed verses create an atmosphere of relaxed elegance.

A waterside path lets you follow the stream further upstream. Reeds and calamus cling to the banks, while Chinese wingnut and Chinese tallow trees — hardy and moisture-loving — add to the natural, wild beauty of this wetland.

This little bridge leads to Gate 3.

The stone arch bridge beneath it is actually the road bridge of Meihua Valley Road.

Backlit, the lake here had become narrow and elongated — Yanque Lake’s shape is rather like a stomach. The broad expanse near Gate 2 is the stomach; eastward, it stretches like a long esophagus.

In this “esophagus,” metasequoias stand in staggered lines in the water.

Their trunks are straight and tall, grayish-brown, with tidy crowns. In April the branches were bare, no foliage yet.

Come autumn, this is a social-media hotspot.

The metasequoia leaves turn colors, setting the water ablaze with reds and golds.

Those autumn photos I took back in late 2019 — Nanjing’s autumn is vibrant. Even an ordinary road like Meihua Valley Road leaves you with a colorful impression.

That day, I rode my electric scooter from Xiamafang Park through the Shichao History Cultural Park all the way here, snapping gorgeous autumn scenes. Rows of dazzling trees stood beside the water, still and lovely — that’s the bald cypress wetland of Meihua Valley.

On the north shore, a grove of straight metasequoias blazed red, yellow, or a mingled orange, so rich it overwhelmed the eye, like a fairy-tale realm of color.

The cypresses grew dense and upright, some even rooted in the water. As their leaves yellowed and flushed red in the sunlight, the delicate branches looked like the legendary phoenix’s tail feathers.

Color wasn’t just in the treetops. The red-and-yellow trees reflected in the clear lake, turning the calm water into a palette — breathtaking, like a richly painted oil.

I didn’t buy a ticket to enter the scenic area; I simply admired this beauty from the open southern shore, where the scenery could not be fenced off. From the bank, the bridge, the roadside, I absorbed this colorful autumn.

Oil-painting autumn colors.

Standing on the bridge, I photographed Yanque Lake at sunset. The setting sun traced a golden edge over the scene. This newer Yanque Lake is perhaps the youngest water body in the Zhongshan Scenic Area. Streams from the mountains feed it, and from here water splits east and west to flow into Crescent Moon Lake, creating a living landscape of real hills and flowing water.

Crossing the little bridge, I exited through Gate 3 into a small square. During the International Plum Blossom Festival, this gate sees the most visitors because it’s nearest to the metro station. In festival season, I’d pass by and see long queues waiting to enter. Parked in the square was a whimsical minibus — a “Republic-era Sweet Cart.”

Reaching the southern shore, right along Meihua Valley Road: the southern slope of Meihua Valley is the most colorful spot, with winter jasmine, plum, cherry, azalea, cypress, osmanthus... Looking across from the road, the view is a mosaic of seasonal hues.

A backlit scene at sunset added mystery.

Following the road northwest, I looked back at the small bridge I’d just crossed.

Creepers cascaded from the bridge like a waterfall.

A big curve. The lake’s elegant, sinuous line created a full garden landscape. The four seasons here stand out distinctly, with distant Zhongshan Mountain forming a picture of “distant mountains, near water.”

Meihua Valley Road traced a lovely arc alongside the lake, spring willows trailing their branches on both sides.

From this angle, I saw the northern shore I’d just left. The slope covered in purple February orchids, the tall metasequoia grove... Emerald green, withered gold, purple... blocks of color side by side, dappled yet vivid.

Rich vegetation and lush aquatic plants attract nesting birds, cheerful fish, and black and white swans drifting by.

Sunset on the pavilion, its white deck, brick-red painted walls, and black roof all nestled among green hills and spring waters.

As I walked on, the scenery shifted.

A round island rose from the lake, cloaked in a mix of trees, shrubs, and grasses. Two eccentric trees stood there — one arrow-straight, the other leaning far over the water, full of movement and whimsy.

Their bare branches twisted upward, splitting into many smaller twigs that looked like little dragons reaching for the sky.

To one side, the lake rippled; to the other, the road meandered. Along the water’s edge, bands of aquatic plants: calamus, reeds, water scallions, and others I couldn’t name. On the bank, weeping willows, camellias, windmill palms, Japanese maples, plus osmanthus, plum, and peach blossoms dotted the landscape — scenery all year round.

Yanque Lake was hushed and elegant, its surface a perfect mirror. The sky was clean with puffs of white cloud, and the reflections were so sharp it felt like another forest world!

My scooter was parked at Gate 2, so I circled back toward that patch of purple romance. February orchids, a couple canoodling on the bank, and a black swan breaking the still water — like an elf straying into a fairy-tale realm.

A huge landscape rock stood by the roadside.

On a Qingming Festival afternoon, I’d traveled from the botanical garden to Yanque Lake with no plan — an impulse trip that gifted me spring’s flamboyance and color, and even more, a joyful heart. The Yanque Lake waters are scenic at dawn, noon, or dusk, and different in every season. It’s a place worth stopping for again and again — or simply passing by, lightly, which is also a kind of loveliness.