Gouqi Island, Shanghai & Suzhou Tour – 8. The Classical Garden Zhuozheng Garden, the Bright Moon, the Breeze, and I

📍 Suzhou · 👁 5401 reads · ❤️ 32 likes

2020/10/31 – This was a day where classical gardens and historical cultural blocks complemented each other, covering Zhuozheng Garden, Pingjiang Road, listening to Suzhou Pingtan, and strolling along Qili Shantang.

[Unexpected: A fellow traveler passed away in Suzhou]

This was the last day of the trip. Around 5 a.m., a group member sent a voice message in the WeChat group saying his wife was feeling unwell and asked the guide to come over. The guide replied, “OK, I’ll come right away.”

At 7:20 during breakfast, Sister Xiaowen told me that five or six police officers were guarding the door of a room on the 6th floor, and a doctor was inside. At first we thought the group member had caught a cold and fever, and since the pandemic wasn’t over, the police had been called.

After breakfast, we saw two police cars and a police motorcycle parked in front of the hotel.

At 7:12, the guide messaged on WeChat: “Dear friends, the Su He Sheng Museum we’re visiting today has postponed its opening time on the weekend. We’ll set off at 9 o’clock today instead.”

At 8:47, the guide messaged again: “Everyone, just get on the bus at 9 o’clock. I have an urgent matter to deal with, so another colleague, Guide Shi, will lead today’s itinerary. Sorry for any inconvenience. If you have any questions, you can contact Guide Shi when you get on the bus or reach me directly.”

In front of our tour bus, I asked another group member what happened. They said: “She’s gone. She was 65.” My heart immediately felt heavy. She wasn’t a family member, but she was our travel companion. Since I was traveling alone, I didn’t even know who had passed away.

Later, the oldest lady in the group said: “The auxiliary police carried her out in a huge courier bag.”

Only after getting on the bus did I realize that two people were missing from the last row where I was sitting. The lady who had passed away and her husband had been sitting in the same row as me. As soon as she got on the bus, she chattered nonstop. I remember secretly complaining about how much she talked, how noisy it was. But now, no one was there to disturb me…

Life is unpredictable. Last night while watching the night view, she was perfectly fine. Just a few hours later, she was gone. Truly, “Above there is paradise, below are Suzhou and Hangzhou.” Her life ended in Gusu (Suzhou), verifying the saying “Who knows whether tomorrow or an accident will come first?” Sigh!

Guide Shi arrived and took us first to Zhuozheng Garden.

Zhuozheng Garden gets its name from the poem “Rhapsody on Idle Living” by Pan Yue of the Jin Dynasty: “Grow vegetables in the garden to provide morning and evening meals… This is also the governance of the humble,” meaning “Humble Administrator’s Garden.”

It was first built in the early Zhengde period of the Ming Dynasty (early 16th century), constructed by the imperial censor Wang Xianchen during the Jiajing era. It is a representative work of classical Jiangnan gardens. Together with Beijing’s Summer Palace, Chengde Mountain Resort, and Suzhou’s Lingering Garden, it is acclaimed as one of China’s four famous gardens.

The garden is centered on water, with hills and streams encircling. The eastern part is open and sparse; the western part has exquisite architecture; the middle, centered on a pond with a man-made hill in it, is the essence of the entire garden. The southern part is laid out in traditional Jiangnan architectural style and houses the Suzhou Garden Museum, the only museum in China dedicated to garden themes.

Outside the gate, there was a sea of people. Once inside, there were still lines of visitors walking. It was simply too lively! I had thought entering Zhuozheng Garden would let me escape the worldly hubbub and enter a poetic Jiangnan water town. But it turned out otherwise.

The first sight was a rockery draped with flowers and trees—literally “open the door and see the mountain,” a refreshing scene. Being close to water and using ancient trees, flowers, trees, and rocks as decoration is a common technique of Suzhou-style gardens. But people were posing for photos and passing by the rocks and stone gate, disturbing the tranquility.

Lanxue Hall: the main hall in the eastern part of Zhuozheng Garden, the first scene upon entering. Its name is from Li Bai’s poetic line, “Standing alone between heaven and earth, the breeze sprinkles orchid snow.”

Walking along a cobblestone path, ancient trees overlapped like umbrellas spreading, leaving no decorations around, creating a beauty of empty space. This reminded me of the text “Suzhou Gardens” that I once taught as a teacher—a familiar feeling. Most ancient trees stood near the water’s edge, many slanting toward it, their canopies shading a patch of the water. In summer’s heat, orioles, swallows, fish, and ducks would all find coolness beneath them.

Fighting through the crowds, I patiently appreciated the zigzag covered walkways, pavilions, terraces, towers, small bridges, and flowing water—tranquil and distant. There was Yuanxiang Hall (Fragrance from Afar Hall), which compares lotus fragrance to human virtue, the main building of the central scenic area, located on the south bank of the pond. The pond was planted with lotuses, its water clear and vast. Pity the blooming season had passed; only withered lotus leaves remained. There was the Pavilion in the Lotus Breeze on All Sides, “surrounded by water on all sides, tree shadows dancing,” with the line “Four walls of lotus, three banks of willows; half a pond of autumn water, one hill abode.” There was the Winding Bamboo Pavilion, “Borrowing the breeze from brightness and moonlight from clarity; moving, observe flowing water; still, contemplate mountains.”

A clear pond came into view, with ancient trees, weeping willows brushing the water, handsome lake rocks, elegant pavilions, and luxuriant flowers and trees. Mountains, water, rocks, ponds, forests, pavilions, and halls merged as if nature-made. Everywhere brimmed with poetic romance, overflowing with tender warmth.

I heard that the Yue opera film “Dream of the Red Chamber” was once shot here, and that the Grand View Garden in Beijing was supposedly designed based on Zhuozheng Garden.

The garden’s layout is brilliantly conceived. A pagoda that appears to stand within the garden is actually the Beisi Pagoda more than 2,500 meters away. Wen Zhengming’s ingenious “borrowed scenery” technique has delighted visitors for centuries. The garden’s pond covers nearly six mu, about one-third of the total area.

I think the most poetic spot is the Listening to the Rain Pavilion, connected to nearby buildings by winding corridors. Imagine when it rains: raindrops fall on the lotuses rising pure out of the mud in that clear pond, on the verdant bamboo by its edge, and on the plantain trees in front and behind the pavilion. You can hear the rain with all its varied moods.

(This picture is from the internet, with thanks.)

The “With Whom Shall I Sit” Pavilion is uniquely charming. The small pavilion is exquisitely shaped like a folding fan, so it’s called the Fan Pavilion. Su Dongpo wrote, “With whom shall I sit? The bright moon, the breeze, and I.” Meaning no one else but the clear breeze and bright moon is worthy to sit with Su Dongpo—hence the name. The pavilion is built by the water, fan-shaped in plan. Its roof, door, window openings, stone table, stone stools, ceiling, lampshade, wall plaque, and half-railing are all fan-shaped. Small, delicate, and unique, it is also known as the “Fan Pavilion.” The whole pavilion is reflected in the water, stunningly beautiful.

Repeatedly rebuilt by master craftsmen of various dynasties, the garden offers a new view with every step, the delightful feeling of flowers blooming beneath your feet, showing a great world within a tiny space. Sometimes “deep, deep the courtyard, how deep?” Sometimes “in April all flowers on earth withered away.” You might catch the flying shadow of a bridge, green willows by towers; occasionally pavilions and terraces mirrored in rippling blue waves, a pond full of summer lotuses amid shimmering water—as if strolling through a painting, leaving endless aftertaste.

Xuexiang Yunwei Pavilion sits at the highest point in the middle of Zhuozheng Garden. “Xuexiang” comes from the metaphor “fragrant snow” for plum blossoms. Song poet Su Shi wrote in “Drinking Under the Apricot Flowers on a Moonlit Night with Guests”: “Setting wine amidst flowers, the clear fragrance wafts; vying to tug long branches, letting fragrant snow fall.” “Yunwei” in Xuexiang Yunwei means the dense forest on the hill. Under the south eaves hangs a plaque in cursive script reading “Amidst mountain flowers and wild birds.” On the south pillars is the couplet “Cicadas chirp, making the forest quieter; birds sing, making the mountains more serene.” The pavilion is planted with winter-sweet plum all around. In winter, sitting in the pavilion admiring the snow, the plums bloom outside, their subtle fragrance wafting and refreshing the heart.

There were too many people; I only managed to photograph the plaque with “Amidst mountain flowers and wild birds” and still couldn’t avoid the great heads.

The Water Corridor (Wave Corridor) is on the east wall of the West Garden. Because it spans the water, it’s called the Water Corridor. It rises and falls, twists left and right, having a sweeping, dynamic feel and is known as the Wave Corridor. At the north section, a square, gable-roofed resting pavilion juts out into the pool, lying low over the water, called the “Fishing Terrace.” Between its east side and the wall is a small gap planted with plantain trees and stone bamboo shoots, forming a miniature scene. This corridor is a gem among Suzhou’s classical garden corridors.

The Thirty-Six Mandarin Duck Hall is the main building of the West Garden of Zhuozheng Garden, exquisitely ornate. The southern part is the “Eighteen Camellia Hall,” and the northern part is the “Thirty-Six Mandarin Duck Hall.” This is a type of mandarin duck hall in classical architecture. The south hall, the Eighteen Camellia Hall, is suitable for winter and spring. Camellia is the mandarin duck flower, i.e., camellia. The north hall gets its name from the thirty-six pairs of mandarin ducks once kept by the pond.

Only the Mandarin Duck Hall in all of Zhuozheng Garden has these diamond-shaped stained-glass window panes, very eye-catching. It’s said that in the late Qing Dynasty, the area belonged to the Wang family garden in Suzhou, already dilapidated. In the third year of Guangxu (1877), salt merchant Zhang Luqian bought the place, renovated and expanded it, completing the work by the fifth year of Guangxu (1879). He named the new garden “Bu Yuan” (Complement Garden). The blue glass of the Mandarin Duck Hall was brought back from Europe by Hong Jun, the Qing government’s envoy to Germany (Hong Jun was a Suzhou zhuangyuan – top scholar; the plaque “Thirty-Six Mandarin Duck Hall” was also inscribed by him). His reason for buying this blue glass might seem puzzling to Cantonese people: because Suzhou rarely snows, looking through this glass at the scenery could make it look like there was snow outside. I tried it, and indeed I could see snowflakes.

The Bonsai Garden in the western part of Zhuozheng Garden is very endearing. Inside an old-style wattle fence, nearly ten thousand Suzhou-style miniature bonsais converge, condensing the essence of Suzhou gardens. It’s said that bonsai began in the Han and Tang dynasties and flourished in the Song. Wang Ao, a Ming dynasty native of Wu County, wrote in “Gusu Zhi”: “Tiger Hill people are skilled at planting rare flowers and unusual plants in pots, twisting pines and ancient plums to place on tables—elegant and lovely, called bonsai.” Thus, Gusu was not only famous for its gardens but also renowned for bonsai craftsmanship. Liu Luan’s “Wu Shi Hu”: “Nowadays people play with trees and stones in pots, making the long bend short, the big trimmed and constrained; some bear fruit within a tiny space, some harbor insects and fish within inches—all called bonsai, which the Yuan people called ‘Xiezi Jing’ (little scenes).” The small bonsai garden is like a pearl set in a crown, its brilliance attracting all who love bonsai art and adding infinite charm to Zhuozheng Garden.

That house covered with vines—many people took photos with it.

Strolling among so many bonsais of different shapes, different materials, yet all equally simple, elegant, and brimming with life, time seemed to stand still in this sunny, breezy, slightly tipsy late morning.

Yuanxiang Hall was originally the place where the owner of Zhuozheng Garden entertained guests, the main building of the garden. It has long glass windows on all sides, airy and bright, offering views of the surrounding beauty, hence also called the “Four-sided Hall.” In front of the hall is a clear pond planted with lotuses. It was named after Zhou Dunyi’s “Love of Lotus” from the Song Dynasty: “The fragrance spreads far and becomes all the more pure.”

Zhuozheng Garden excels in its water features, interlocking courtyards, and splendid flowers and trees. Truly, every step reveals a scene, as if strolling through poetic romance. Every pavilion and terrace is a poem, every waterside pavilion a painting, every building a perfect fusion of literary and architectural beauty. Point your phone or camera anywhere, and you capture loveliness.

But today’s “Humble Administrator’s Garden” is extraordinarily noisy. The flashing cameras of frantic tourists, the spit-flying guides enthusiastically recounting tales, the climbing and jumping children—all merge into an ocean of joy. Dense crowds, flashing cameras, busy smartphones, hurried bustle. It’s extremely hard to take a photo of an empty scene. All this runs counter to the original intention of the garden’s protectors. Behind the noise lies loneliness, and I dread seeing the profound loneliness of all of Gusu culture.

When tourism becomes blind photo-snapping and walking for most, I can only seek a spiritual paradise in ethereal classical dreams. I don’t want to come back to Suzhou in the future and sigh, “Where is Suzhou?”

(3364 2020/11/20)