The Aesthete Strolling in Zhongshan

[Aesthetic]

These days everyone around me is talking about aesthetics, but it sounds as elusive as Venus’s missing arms. I have a couple of friends who are true 'beauty lovers' living in Nanjing — they’re the envy of everyone. The wife is responsible for being as lovely as a flower; the husband for earning money to beautify their home. Humble as he is, he jokes that he is learning beauty from his wife, dubbing himself a 'beauty-ologist.' From my perspective, they’re so sweet it’s almost too much — their beauty is undeniably real.

Mr. Wu thought long and hard about finding a home for his wife. In Nanjing, two places embody the quintessence of beauty. One is Jiezi Garden, a spiritual pilgrimage site for Chinese painters — the private residence of Li Yu, a master of painting, calligraphy, opera, and gastronomy in the early Qing dynasty, now lost to overgrown weeds. The other is the perpetually purple-tinged Zijin Mountain (Purple Mountain), home to the 'Meiling Palace,' the number one villa in the Far East, and the jade-like neck adorned with the 'Heart of the Ocean' necklace visible from an airplane. And it is right here that Mr. Wu and his wife’s 'new home' — Zijin Mountain Courtyard — stands.

Mr. Wu says: Zhongshan is just like my wife — beautiful in its 'inner grace exuding outward.'

Nanjing, when autumn arrives, truly becomes 'Jinling' — its ancient, poetic name. That beauty-loving Jinling lady is Gezi. She collects antiques and designs her own Republic-era style clothing.

Yet she values the beauty of bone structure far above superficial beauty. She recently opened a bookstore, and I told her, you’ve fulfilled the dream of every artistic youth ancient and modern, Chinese and foreign. Li Yu, the great aesthete of old Nanjing, also ran a bookstore back in his day.

Red Mansion proprietors Wu Bin & Gezi’s encounter with Shakespeare and Company

Nanjing is a place where Western and Chinese cultures blend to perfection. I still recall Gezi once telling me that in 1919, Shakespeare and Company opened in Paris — it was James Joyce’s publisher, Hemingway’s reading room, Fitzgerald’s café, and Eliot’s lecture hall... In the blink of an eye, Nanjing gained a tiny 'Gezi Bookstore,' giving book lovers wings to travel the world without leaving their seats.

A century ago, the place where Li Yu entertained friends, composed plays, painted, and wrote was also where he printed and sold books. Bestsellers like Water Margin, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Journey to the West, and The Plum in the Golden Vase all gained true fame thanks to his efforts. Gezi and Mr. Wu’s Nanjing cultural dining landmark, 'Red Mansion,' is a fusion of past and present in this aesthetic lifestyle. Whatever artistic and beautiful living you can imagine is all within their realm. Mr. Wu now manages eight historical heritage buildings, restoring them as they are, preserving them like museums. Each additional one is another delight for Gezi. Mr. Wu simply says, he will always support his wife’s choices. The management of a marriage is itself an aesthetic; within a small space lies a universe.

Speaking of Li Yu’s painting manuals, every blade of grass, every leaf, every table and chair embodies simplicity with grace, and the void of negative space holds a whole world. That spirit and elegance were quietly etched in Mr. Wu’s heart since his youth, when he studied painting, and eventually gave rise to the present-day Zijin Mountain Courtyard!

Similarly, when Gezi saw her husband’s grand design, her response was simply two words: 'I support.' Walking in, a blue-tailed magpie was drinking from a spring by the gate to quench its thirst, but as we approached, it flitted up to the plaque. The calligraphy is by Wu Zhenli — rustic and unadorned, with an affability that hides great skill. It’s like the 'Shanxi Black' granite used for the entrance pond — the purest, blackest granite in the world, gentle and humble.

Walking further, the clear chime of bronze bells lingered in the air — metal, wood, water, ceramic, stone… all taking turns. It had no distinct rhythm but sounded exquisite. Mr. Wu confided, the melody uses the Chinese pentatonic scale. Its name is simply 'WU,' which can mean the number five, or 'nothingness' — a sensation that listeners can interpret freely.

I asked Gezi, wasn’t it you who secretly gave this to Mr. Wu? She winked, 'It’s all he gave me — a name, so let it be my gift to him.'

Xu Jing’s wine-colored ink treasure 'A Fragrance Condensed' (created with red wine) is set off by a golden toad rock, with a view of Zhongshan’s flowers, trees, and woods just outside the window… The characters for 'Martial Arts' in Peter Chan’s film Dragon, and 'Shadow' in Zhang Yimou’s Shadow were also inscribed by Xu Jing, her splashed ink as expansive as rivers and seas.

As I walked into the entrance of Zijin Mountain Courtyard, redolent of Tang and Song elegance, the traditional Chinese arts of incense, tea, and flower arrangement seemed to commence. Mr. Wu told me, this was exactly his design intention.

For the weary traveler, a single glance suffices to wash away the dust.

The airiness and transparency of Zijin Mountain Courtyard eliminate any sense of oppression one might feel in an old Suzhou garden hall; it’s as expansive as the scene outside the window. Mr. Wu remarked, 'I wanted to leave open spaces. The natural grace of Zhongshan doesn’t allow me to clutter the rooms — that wouldn’t be beautiful. It should be like my wife: whether plump or slim, there’s always beauty in the space, the key is the inner elegance that shines through!'

So, Gezi half-complains about Mr. Wu’s 'strictness,' yet admires his boldness: Zijin Mountain Courtyard, which took two years for Red Mansion to create, is less a 3,000-square-meter landscape restaurant than a 3,000-square-meter garden enclosure. People dine inside while wild animals enjoy their forest picnic outside.

The beautiful deer aren’t disturbed at all by this recreated 'nature' within Zijin Mountain. The corridor extends seamlessly into the courtyard, blending mountain and garden so well that even I felt the 'Zijin Mountain Courtyard' backed right onto a forest vista. Gazing toward Meiling Palace, pointing toward Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum, whether it’s the mythical paradise of Penglai or the southern hills’ hedgerow idyll, all converge here.

Mr. Wu, much like the deer, disappears into the forest. Early mornings, he goes to Zhongshan to pick tea leaves and camellias for his wife Gezi — that’s his natural morning exercise.

Gezi can spend an entire day observing the space Mr. Wu has crafted for her, smelling wave after wave of fragrance. Only then, she says, has she gradually come to understand the kind of 'negative space' between nature and life that Mr. Wu speaks of.

Courtyard of Fragrance, Courtyard of Deer, Courtyard of Wind, Courtyard of Stars, Courtyard of Moon, Courtyard of Pines… instantly, all these natural names represent this compound. And the courtyard seems to come alive.

Mr. Wu says beauty isn’t something abstruse; it’s something everyone can perceive. Indeed, inside Zijin Mountain Courtyard, every ordinary pair of eyes seems to gain the instant ability to grasp beauty: the encircling mountain waves, jagged rocks, gnarled ancient trees, dense green bamboo, clear streams… all are gathered within one’s own garden.

As the sun sets, at the end of the long corridor where his wife loves to have tea, autumn — the understated painter — paints on the floor-to-ceiling windows of Zijin Mountain Courtyard. Deep in the mountain hinterland, the forest wash of colors! Silently, it renders Zhongshan’s Jinling into a richly hued scroll.

'The highest form of expression is to blend architecture, courtyard, garden, and mountain forest into one,' says Mr. Wu. Grey-black stone elephants, golden ginkgo leaves, fiery red maple leaves — the dignified grace of Tang and Song elegance seeps through every play of light and shadow.

Honestly, I’m not too fond of the garishly sweet osmanthus scent. 'Under starry skies and bright moon, countless specks of yellow; half the city’s osmanthus trees fill the city with fragrance' — for a serene place like Zijin Mountain in Nanjing, it steals the spotlight. The autumn of Zijin Mountain, in Mr. Wu and Gezi’s home, is comfortably 'sniffed' — gently savored.

Inviting friends to Zijin Mountain Courtyard to experience a grand autumn feast under the osmanthus trees is this lovely couple’s way of hosting.

Mr. Wu lit a stick of premium 'Qinan' (agarwood) specially chosen by Gezi. Smelling it fresh, there’s a floral scent with a wisp of coolness; inhale it into the mouth, and it yields a taste of fragrance, numbing, spicy, sweet, and cooling sensations, with a lingering sweet aftertaste that generates saliva. Gathering with Gezi, we snacked on crispy seaweed cashew biscuits — a crunch of fragrance; sipped osmanthus Yuhua tea — a nose-full of fragrance; the fragrant conversation was delightful.

Truly, before the feast even begins, our mouths are watering with the aromas. The entire banquet is divided into five sections: Autumn Charm, Autumn Mist, Autumn Splendor, Autumn Longing, and Autumn Harvest. It is presented by Red Mansion · Zijin Mountain Courtyard in collaboration with Red Mansion’s culinary advisor Wang Yong and wine advisor Li Meiyu.

Mr. Wu says the fragrance of autumn is a comprehensive sensory experience. The three appetizers form the first chapter, 'Autumn Charm,' and whet the appetite for autumn.

Ning-style Crab Paste · Char-grilled Autumn Eggplant

The soup is Lotus Seed and Fox Nut Huaiyang Chicken and Fish Soup, called 'Autumn Mist.' 'Before night falls, blue mists creep in; before autumn arrives, white dew gathers.' When lotus seeds and fox nuts appear on the table, the Jiangnan autumn has quietly arrived.

The third chapter, 'Autumn Splendor,' is the moment of blossoming. Orange-Packed Crab — a well-known Southern Song ancient dish — is given an inventive twist: the outer 'orange' is made of fish meat and scallops, filled with the traditional crab meat and orange pulp. The exterior is tender with a slight bounce, while inside it’s sweet-sour and refreshingly savory.

The fried rice is also a stroke of brilliance. The sweetness of chestnuts is autumn’s bounty, mixed with East China Sea yellow croaker and scallion-braised fish maw cubes — truly 'Autumn Longing'! The kind you yearn for day and night after eating.

The fifth chapter, 'Autumn Harvest,' brings the gentle warmth of pear soup and the creaminess of peanut ice cream, like an autumn breeze. Chef Wang Yong’s dishes always soothe and comfort with a delicate touch.

The lights at Zijin Mountain Courtyard are shaped like 'black pearls,' perfectly complementing the 'Heart of the Ocean' necklace up the mountain. Teacher Meiyu chose a Burgundy from a small plot — with its quiet floral-fruity and milky notes, it has the spirit of ancient unrefined wine.

With grape wine in luminous cups, I was lucky enough to enjoy a private 'Autumn Fragrance' treat. Dendrobium, Conch, and Xishi Tongue, along with Crab Meat, Fox Nuts, and Sturgeon Sinew — chewy outside, crispy inside, with layers of sweetness unfolding. As I chewed, then swallowed a mouthful of pure broth, my whole body relaxed.

The agarwood has burned out, and the wine has made us tipsy. At this moment, the host using just the right tea to settle the guests is a mark of consideration.

Since we’re under the osmanthus trees, it’s fitting to have some demands about the subtlety of fragrance. I appreciate more the late-blooming osmanthus that is sparse and light, yet exceptionally elegant. Its beauty lies right between lingering and fading. This is akin to the ancient Chinese technique of 'xūn' (scenting) for making flower teas, where the flower’s scent permeates the tea leaves through long steaming processes.

This is also Mr. Wu’s natural aesthetic principle. He says: in making tea, strong fragrance is never prized. Even for Hangzhou’s Jiuqu Hongmei (Nine-Bend Red Plum), if you see osmanthus flowers mixed in with the black tea, you can roughly tell it’s a commercial tea intended for autumn tourists to take home as a souvenir. In Taiwan, people drink osmanthus oolong. Knowledgeable local tea farmers plant osmanthus trees next to the tea gardens to enhance the oolong’s aroma; during roasting, they also add dried osmanthus flowers to further layer the fragrance. Tea drinkers needn’t see blooming osmanthus in their steeped tea. The moment they drink, the osmanthus aroma slowly unfurls in the nose, and upon exhaling, it’s like a gentle osmanthus rain.

Later I learned that dried osmanthus seems vulgar because the fragrance of ordinary osmanthus isn’t good enough. Fine osmanthus fragrance, like the charm of an ancient painting, is faint yet flavorful. An old letter paper from the Republic period reveals the sparse message of late-blooming osmanthus beauty — that is the subtlety of literati aesthetics.

Late-blooming osmanthus — as long as you’re willing to wait, it can be found everywhere. But the fragrance at Zijin Mountain Courtyard is unique, sourced from the century-old osmanthus tree nearby, the 'King of Jinling Osmanthus,' already several hundred years old. Sniff closely, and the scent is distant, tranquil, yet free-spirited. It’s like a quietly beautiful lady who grows on you endlessly.

I made a special trip to visit that 'King of Jinling Osmanthus' renowned throughout Nanjing, located within Linggu Temple on Zijin Mountain. The tree is over a hundred years old, a variety of ‘Wavy-Leaf Golden Osmanthus,’ standing 7 meters tall, with a trunk diameter of 1 meter and a canopy spanning 8 meters.

Now it is still luxuriant, standing gracefully like a giant umbrella on the great lawn. Its blossoms are golden, its fragrance deep and rich, carrying the lingering sweetness of candied dates.

With my sister Gezi and Huaiyang cuisine master Hou Xinqing, we sipped the first infusion of this century-old osmanthus tea at Zijin Mountain Courtyard. Only upon tasting did we appreciate its preciousness — the fragrance is truly elegant and multifaceted!

Mr. Wu praises Gezi, saying she looks beautiful whether plump or slender, just like the Tang dynasty’s Yang or Han dynasty’s Zhao. So the two types of osmanthus tea at home are named 'Green Plump, Red Slender.' The Osmanthus Yuhua Tea uses pre-Qingming Yuhua tea leaves from the core Zijin Mountain production area, the 'Yuhua Tea Garden,' originally planted by Soong Mei-ling back then. The Osmanthus Black Tea uses red-orange osmanthus (dangui), its fragrance tinged with caramel notes, complementing the black tea’s richness and persistence.

Moistening the throat like dew, never cloyingly fragrant — this is the secret of the slow method using century-old osmanthus trees. And the petals used for scenting the osmanthus tea are handpicked by Mr. Wu and Gezi themselves, right from the vast garden behind Zijin Mountain Courtyard.

At Zijin Mountain Courtyard, with a cup of 'Red Slender' before the meal and a cup of 'Green Plump' after, gazing at distant mountains and nearby streams, one realizes that nothing is more beautiful than a half-day of leisure.

As night falls, the autumn fairyland hides away in the villa among the woods of Zhongshan, accompanied by lingering, unsatisfied fragrance.

What do you like to eat in autumn?

'Before the flowers bloom, I already enjoy boundless delight.'

Food Bless You!

Consultant for the China International Gourmet Expo, Producer of 'The Table of Gods'