Beijing's Mystery Canal: Centuries-Old Brook Reimagined in Qianmen Neighborhood

Last month, state media buzzed about the restoration of an ancient brook, a long-lost waterway transformed into a beautiful new park in Beijing. The trouble was, the brook didn’t seem to exist on any historical maps of the city. Long-time China watcher, historian, and author Paul French (Midnight in Peking, Tales from the Badlands) wondered on Twitter, “Could this be a pretend brook??”

It turns out the brook was – at one time – quite real, although it hasn’t flowed since the days of the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) and the current park is more a reimagining of an idealized Beijing canal than an attempt to accurately restore a historical waterway. 

The canal was originally named “Sanli He,” and it was constructed in the mid-15th century under Zhu Qizhen, who ruled as the Zhengtong Emperor.* At the time, The Ming empire was in something of crisis mode.** The Oriyad Mongol leader (and later Khan) Esen was threatening the security of Beijing. To counteract this threat, the court ordered repairs and reinforcements of the city’s walls and gates, including the main central gate, Zhengyang Men (A.K.A. Qianmen) and the moat which ran outside the southern wall of the city along what is today Qianmen East Street.

To make the necessary repairs, workers had to dam up the moat, and there was concern that in the event of a rainstorm the water would spill over. The solution was to dig a new channel to draw off any excess water. Later attempts to turn the canal into something more substantial were abandoned when officials determined that the waterway was too shallow to be of much use. As time went on, the canal became mostly a ditch for household waste and refuse. By the time of the Qing Empire (1644-1912), Sanli He was nothing more than an open sewer.

In the 20th century, the local government made attempts to clean up the area. The 1951 play 龙须沟 longxugou ("Dragon’s Beard Ditch") by Lao She describes the government’s efforts to “Serve the People” by paving over a section of the fetid stream.

While it was not a significant waterway, Sanli He did affect the development of the neighborhood. Many of the streets in the area are named for 沟  gou (ditch) or 桥  qiao (bridge). Sanli He also flowed through an area known as 芦草园 Lucao Yuan, named after a thicket of tall grasses which grew in the damp marshy soil of the old canal bed. From there, the brook then turned south, past Xiaoshi Dajie and the Loyalty Temple (Jingzhong Miao, which was turned into a factory in the 1960s and has since ceased to exist) before entering the muddy lakes known as the “Goldfish Ponds” which once ringed the northern boundary of the Temple of Heaven. Finally, the Sanli He joined other canals to east of the Temple of Heaven in the area around Hongqiao (where the eponymous market now stands) and then out of the city by Zuoanmen (Jiangcamen) Gate into the Tonghui River which connects Beijing with Tianjin and the Grand Canal.

The neighborhoods around Sanli He were mostly home to the poor and luckless.  It was a bog, noxious in the summer time and damp in the winter. The protagonist of Lao She's most famous novel, Rickshaw Boy (骆驼祥子 luotuo xiangzi) lived in the area around the Goldfish Ponds. And, yes ... they actually raised goldfish there into the 20th century.

While the Ming-era canal is not on most maps of the city from the Qing and Republican (1912-1949) eras, the new park seems to follow the route described in the Ming dynasty records and signs in the park proclaim the amount of archival research done on the route – if not the actual appearance – of the 15th-century channel.

The reconstruction begins just to the east of the Qianmen Pedestrian Mall in a small park with a dry canal bed. The workers seemed to have gotten everything just so … except the water. Details. Details.

The main park, water and all, begins at the intersection of Xianyu Kou (across from the entrance to the new Xianyu Kou “Old Beijing Snack Street") and Qianmen East Street. The public garden itself is quite lovely and is reminiscent of similar attempts to restore and rebuild the areas around the Jade River north of the Forbidden City.

There’s even a section which recreates the rushes and marsh grass which gave their name to the Lucao Yuan neighborhood.

The park follows what used to be sections of the hutongs Changxiang Toutiao and Defang Dongxiang before ending at Caochang Santiao and the western edge of the Lucao Yuan community. Urban explorers can continue east and southeast from here following what was likely the route of the old stream bed, although nothing of it exists today, south across Zhushikou East Street and down to the Goldfish Ponds. Sadly, the goldfish and ponds are also long gone, replaced by public housing blocks in the 1960s, although the name remains.

This past weekend, an army of “Environmental Protection Volunteers” was on hand to help us all enjoy the park while protecting Beijing’s cultural heritage and while they didn’t do very much when one canal walker chucked their soda bottle and cigarette packet into the water, they did reprimand an overly enthusiastic shutterbug who was trampling the flower bed to get a better photo of swimming goldfish.

(“I don’t know why you are talking to me,” he muttered. “I can go where I want!”)

Depending on tastes, the park might make a nice afternoon ramble when combined with a visit to the Xianyu Kou snack street. After all, nothing pairs nicer with sanitized “Faux Beijing” street snack stalls than a historical waterway reborn as an imagined Beijing brook. 

As the designer Zhu Junfu told Xinhua of the space:

"I wanted the brook to act as a ribbon linking the history, culture, environment, and art within the area."

The redevelopment of the area is another sign that the future of Beijing historic “restoration” will lean more toward the creation of an idealized old Beijing rather than a serious attempt at the preservation (or authentic recreation) of Beijing’s history and historical structures.

As the same Xinhua article notes, perhaps ominously:

As part of the central government's efforts to actively decentralize the city center and expand green areas, it has begun to clear the capital of non-essential functions and upgrade the living conditions for city residents. Many markets and businesses have been moved to the city's suburbs, and residents relocated from decrepit and rundown housing into new residential areas. More parks, greenbelts and water courses will be constructed in downtown areas.

This is not to say that these spaces aren’t pleasant or even, in some cases, an improvement on what was there before – nobody would want to picnic next to an open sewer – but these types of projects and the recent “bricking up” of small businesses throughout the city raise concerns about what historic “restoration” and “reinvigoration” will mean for the kinds of organic communities and historic neighborhoods which are a major part of other global cities.

* Three Mile River, not to be confused with the other Three Mile River, built during the Jin era (1115-1234) in the area near today’s Yuyuantan Park.

** In 1449, the Ming armies – how should I put this – misplaced the emperor during the Tumu Incident. After a period of time as a guest of the Mongolians, Zhu Qizhen was released and sent back to Beijing for no other reason it seems than to mess with the Chinese. After a brief interlude in which his brother was on the throne, Zhu Qizhen resumed power in 1457, becoming the only Ming emperor to have two non-consecutive reigns.

Jeremiah Jenne is a writer, educator, and historian based in Beijing since 2002. He maintains the Chinese history and culture website Jottings from the Granite Studio is also the founder of Beijing by Foot, which offers historical walks, tours, and workshops in Beijing. You can find him on Twitter and Instagram @granitestudio.

Images: Jeremiah Jenne