The Scroll of Prosperous Suzhou Begins at Mudu – A Night Tour of Mudu
“I have crossed many bridges, watched many clouds, and tasted many kinds of wine, but I have only loved one place that is the most poetic in the world – Jiangnan. And in Jiangnan, outside the city of Gusu, there is a place that is 'the most beautiful in all Jiangnan.' That is Mudu, known as the 'First Garden Ancient Town in Jiangnan.' These are the words of Mr. Shen Congwen, praising the exquisite gardens of Mudu.
The Scroll of Prosperous Suzhou, painted by Qing Dynasty artist Xu Yang, depicts the bustling Suzhou over two hundred years ago. 'The Scroll of Prosperous Suzhou begins at Mudu' – half of the entire scroll is devoted to depicting Mudu Ancient Town. Indeed, the age-old depth and profundity of Mudu is like a vintage wine – to appreciate its timeless charm, one must sip slowly. Searching for the Mudu described by Mr. Shen Congwen, I journeyed through 2,500 years of history into the world of the Prosperous Suzhou scroll.
Mudu Ancient Town is known for its 'nine li and thirteen bridges.' Among the thirteen, the most famous is Xieqiao (the Slanted Bridge). 'Xieqiao Dividing the Waters' is one of the Ten Scenes of Mudu. Xieqiao stands at the confluence of the Xujiang River and the Xiangxi Stream. The Xujiang, China's first man-made waterway, connects Gusu (Suzhou) in the east to Taihu Lake in the west. Its broad waters run through the town, serving as a golden water route linking Taihu and Suzhou. The Xiangxi Stream meanders from the foot of Lingyan Mountain. These two famous waters meet at Xieqiao. Strangely, the Xiangxi's water is clear, while the Xujiang's is turbid. Below the bridge, a distinct dividing line forms, as clear as the separation between a beauty and a hero standing side by side, their meeting and mingling embodying Mudu's supreme state of grandeur and grace.
Standing on Zhuxiang Bridge, I watched the two currents – one clear, one turbid; one slow, one swift – collide beneath Xieqiao. The sound seemed like the Xujiang murmuring, 'I became turbid after Wu Zixu was wronged and committed suicide,' and the Xiangxi softly singing, 'I became fragrant because Xi Shi bathed here.'
Originally, both rivers were equally clear. Legend has it that after Wu Zixu died, his body was put into a leather bag and thrown into the Xujiang. That day, a fierce storm broke out, the river surged, and his body floated westward against the current into Taihu Lake. After the storm subsided, the once-clear river water looked yellowish. Compared with the Xiangxi water flowing from the Wu Palace, the difference was stark, and at their junction, a sharp dividing line appeared. The people said the murky water was stained by the unavenged spirit of Chancellor Wu, who even in death refused to mingle with the state of Yue. The people of Mudu at the foot of Lingyan Mountain witnessed this historical tragedy and carved a couplet on Zhuxiang Bridge spanning the Xujiang: 'For a thousand years, Wu and Yue have separated the clear from the turbid; the fragrant Xiangxi and the Xujiang merge into one current.'
Descending from Zhuxiang Bridge and walking a few dozen steps, you reach Xieqiao, built at the mouth of the Xiangxi. Crossing to the east of Xieqiao, a few dozen steps west is Caijia Bridge. Strolling along the riverbanks, you'll find seven ancient bridges within a span of just over a hundred meters. After Caijia Bridge, heading west along Shantang Street, you'll come across Lufei Bridge, Xishi Bridge, Wangjia Bridge, and Yong’an Bridge in turn.
At dinnertime, I entered the old street again from the east end of Shantang Street. By then, few visitors were around. Passing through the ancient covered arcade, I arrived at the Gusu 12 Niang Commercial Street. The street was lined with a dazzling array of shop signs: shops offering live pearl extraction from mussels, freshly ground pearl powder, Taihu silk, Li Embroidery Workshop, and many other stores trading in Taihu specialties. There were also century-old shops like Yupinzhai and Tianshengyuan selling traditional Suzhou foods such as pine nut jujube paste sesame cakes and maltose dragon’s beard candy.
As dusk fell, the ancient town, emptied of crowds, regained its true appearance. The bustling commercial street grew quiet. Some shops had already put up their dark-red door panels, while those still open lit lanterns. The warm light spilling into the narrow alleys, brighter here and dimmer there, created a special atmosphere, and the shop owners leisurely watched over their businesses. The narrow lanes, the rough flagstone paths, the rows of shops, the fluttering banner-flags, and the hanging lanterns... all seemed to tell their own stories.
Some say that Mudu's fame was built by beauties, and this is undeniably true. From the late Spring and Autumn period, when King Fuchai of Wu sought to please the beauty Xi Shi, the name 'Mudu' came from 'piling wood to block the creek.' To the Qing Dynasty, when Emperor Qianlong was enamored with a beautiful woman from Mudu. And then there are the Gusu 12 Niang: the boat woman, weaver woman, embroidery woman, tea woman, fan woman, lantern woman, qin (zither) woman, silkworm woman, flower woman, singer woman, painter woman, and pearl woman. These 12 Niang epitomize the women of the Wu region – diligent, kind, and skillful. They embody the rich and profound 2,500-year history of Wu culture, a cultural treasure and a microcosm of the prosperous commerce and handicrafts of Suzhou, 'paradise on earth,' through the ages.
Among the Gusu 12 Niang, the embroidery woman is the most representative. Su embroidery ranks first among China's four famous embroidery styles. It was only after coming here that I learned Mudu is the birthplace of Su embroidery. Since the embroidery saint Shen Shou, three generations of Suzhou embroidery masters have had deep ties with Mudu. With their delicate hands, they have brought brilliance to Mudu's handicrafts.
The embroidery piece 'Nian Nian You Yu' (Abundance Year After Year) features a delicate design, elegant colors, ingenious composition, fine needlework, and lively stitches. Lotus flowers and fish frolic playfully in the water, while a cute little cat on the ground seems to smell the fish, watching attentively as if guarding its beloved, never leaving, no matter who comes and goes. Look – this is true love! In fact, this vivid masterpiece is the store’s prized treasure, beloved by all.
The shops were packed close together, filled with exquisite handicrafts: embroidery by the embroidery women, silk scarves by the silkworm women, pearls from the 'pearl goddesses' shops, and more. There were no extravagant decorations, yet the place was imbued with rich sentiment.
The paper fans crafted by the fan women are also noteworthy among Suzhou’s handicrafts. Suzhou’s palace fans, folding fans, and sandalwood fans are exquisitely made and have always been treasured by scholars and literati. In their small world, the fan women meticulously depict the landscapes, flowers, birds, and figures of the Wu region, their superb craftsmanship itself forming a brilliant chapter in Wu culture.
Oil-paper umbrellas are the symbol of misty, rainy Jiangnan, lending the ancient water towns a special charm. Perhaps because Jiangnan blood flows in my veins, deep down I love the hazy beauty of apricot blossoms in the drizzle. I truly wished for a light rain just then, so I could buy an oil-paper umbrella and play the role of a lilac girl beneath it, crossing the gentle stone bridges in the slanting alleys and narrow lanes, standing in the rain watching the black-awning boats glide through the water, and soaking in the serenity of bridges over flowing streams. I would stroll along the flagstone paths polished by time, savoring that relaxed and carefree feeling.
Emerging from the alley onto Shantang Street, I saw winding waters and scattered bridges. With few people and sparse lights, Xishi Bridge appeared graceful and light, exuding a touch of charm and a hint of melancholy. As the poem goes: 'In the Spring and Autumn period, two states vied for supremacy; an innocent Yue maiden was offered to Fuchai. Goujian avenged his lost kingdom, yet in Wu lands, we still see the Washing Creek Sands.'
The poem says: 'When you arrive in Gusu, you’ll see homes nestled along the rivers. The ancient city has little idle land; water lanes and small bridges abound.' Standing on Xishi Bridge, I gazed far into the distance. The gentle, misty water stretched into the twilight, dim yellow lights reflecting in the water. The houses on both banks, with their black tiles and white walls, had changed into night’s attire, resting neatly by the water. The water mirrored the old houses, and the houses mirrored the water – like a gentle, quiet Xiangxi maiden extending my dreams.
Strolling along Shantang Street, which has a history of 2,500 years, I watched the Xiangxi flowing alongside the street, carrying the incense of a thousand years of cultural heritage. In the night, it resembled a calm and soft scroll of history, vividly depicting Mudu’s past and present. 'A beauty once bathed here; her soul vanished, but the water remains fragrant. Alas, the cool, clear spring reflects her enchanting image. Not to wash your clothes’ dust, how can it compare to the Huaqing Hot Springs? Now, the Baolin Temple is open; the Caoxi stream flows ever on.'
Small bridges, flowing water, and riverside homes – in Mudu, this scene feels deeply dreamlike. Dreamlike Jiangnan forever lingers like a dream in everyone’s heart. How many people hurry past, meeting amidst the mountains and waters, ferrying from this embankment lined with maples and willows to that shore where fireworks glimmer. Those who have visited this sentimental place find their once-detached hearts beginning to have something to care about.
Within every courtyard in Mudu lies a world that is exquisite, elegant, and full of twists and turns. Every door is carved with stories behind the passage of time, of ancient and modern changes... On this quiet night, push open a door, open a window. You who came with stories will also leave with stories.
In the long corridors of the ancient town, lights were dim and few; a row of big red lanterns looked like a roll of film capturing life. The flickering lights, the closed door panels, the quiet comings and goings of pedestrians, and looking across the river felt like traveling through time and space. Perhaps this is exactly the Mudu life built by small bridges and flowing water – a captivating refinement that easily draws you in, with nonchalance. In the night after the hustle and bustle has faded, watching the faint lights on both banks flickering on the water, it’s like a close confidante, with endless heartfelt words to share.
The warm, soft orange-yellow light is best for storytelling over a cup of tea. The artistic Juanpin Hall breathes life and revival into this ancient town with a thousand-year history, making Mudu at night a blend of poetry and vitality.
Mingyue Ancient Temple, with its apricot-yellow outer walls, stood out conspicuously amidst the white walls and black tiles along the road, especially under the lights. Two imposing stone lions flanked the gate, and the two ginkgo trees still had golden leaves in early winter. The temple was built during the Later Tang Dynasty, renovated in the Guangxu period of the Qing Dynasty, destroyed during the Cultural Revolution, and restored and reopened in 1993. After several rebirths, the ancient temple remains solemn, inspiring reverence.
The moonlight was cold and clear, pouring down like water. My heart was as calm as a lotus in the night, listening to the Buddhist chants from the ancient temple. It takes five hundred years of looking back in past lives to earn just one passing encounter in this life. To meet Mudu and this ancient temple is fate.
With the night breeze gently swirling, I wandered, stopping and starting, drifting through others’ stories, finding peace in universal emotions. 'Time rushes past like water, many years lightly sketched; my heart turns a thousand times thinking of you, that sky between you and me.' I sat down to quietly savor Mudu’s timeless beauty and peacefully enjoy this inner tranquility. A few red lanterns and a touch of warm light dressed Xiangxi Pavilion in gentle leisure, intoxicating.
The ancient streets and deep lanes had few pedestrians, but the streetlights on both sides cast an orange glow, making the early winter night feel especially warm. The town is home to many historic residences of notable figures: Shen Deqian, teacher of Emperor Qianlong; Xu Shiyuan, a Mudu literatus; Feng Guifen, a pioneer of the Self-Strengthening Movement and renowned political commentator; and Yan Jiagan, a prominent Taiwanese politician... From the late Qing to the early Republic, the residences of Mudu’s 'Four Great Families' – Yan, Cai, Zheng, and Xu – stretched from the foot of Hongqiao all the way to Wangjia Bridge, covering miles and occupying almost the entire old Shantang Street.
After five centuries of weathering, Yong’an Bridge still stands rock-solid. A stone carving of a poem by Wang Shaomu of the Qing Dynasty keeps it company: 'On Yong’an Bridge, I wish for lasting peace; people go their separate ways and return. Plucking a willow branch, one should sing the three-part melody; in the vast misty waters, I recall my hometown.' The bridge was covered in ivy, and under the lights, it looked like an old man of time, his long beard hiding stories lost in the years. Standing beneath the bridge, I listened quietly: 'At night, a boat’s flute sounds in the drizzling rain; people talk beside the post station bridge.' Amid the babbling water, the boat woman’s Wu folk tunes drifted; she gently rowed her small boat, slowly floating into the picture...
Suddenly, I heard a voice: 'Yumiji invites you to dinner,' 'Yumiji invites you to dinner'... The melody of the soft Wu dialect was like a long-waiting family member calling you home for a meal. Only then did I remember that my friend was still waiting there for me.
Fragrance wafts across the nine-li thirteen bridges, and clothes flutter among pavilions, halls, corridors, and waterside gazebos. Treading lightly on the historical scrolls glistening with age in the dappled willow shadows, I savored Mudu’s thousand-year civilization and prosperity, its vicissitudes and changes, its tranquility and peace... The ancient atmosphere, the rich culture – everything felt like a different world. My steps seemed like walking in a dream, the frozen frames, the hazy emotions, like poetry, like a painting.
