Prince Gong's Mansion: A Courtyard That Holds Half of Qing Dynasty's History

Pushing open the vermilion gates of Prince Gong's Mansion, the creaking sound of the blue bricks underfoot seems to shatter 300 years of time. This courtyard, which holds the power codes outside the Forbidden City, has its very brick seams soaked with the tales of the dynasty's rise and fall. 1. Heshen's "Ideal Kingdom" Passing through three layers of vermilion gates, the Silver Peace Hall opens up before you, with its flying eaves and intricate brackets resembling the skeletal framework of power. Heshen once stood atop this high platform, the dragon patterns on the stone bases faintly visible in the morning light. He dared to secretly exceed the regulations for a prince's residence, yet ultimately, during Emperor Jiaqing's confiscation of his property, he was uprooted entirely. The sunken spots on the white marble steps in front of the hall are said to be worn down by officials kneeling to receive imperial edicts. Those who once shouted praises here have now turned into echoes in the tour guides' microphones. Walking to Jiale Hall, you look up at the plaque, its golden lacquer peeling off the wood grain like scales of time. The Western clocks and Hetian jade Heshen once collected here have long been placed in museum display cases by the passage of time. Yet, the remaining mother-of-pearl inlays on the walls stubbornly glimmer with the light of greed. 2. Metaphors in the Garden The moon gate in the back garden frames a landscape scroll, with Taihu rocks stacked into peaks hiding the subtle intentions of the garden's creator. The bronze incense burner in front of the Fortune Stele, its ash accumulated over a century without anyone adding incense, seems like the leftover ink from Yixin's writings of "Cui Jin Yin" after his dismissal. At the end of the winding corridor, the Fish Viewing Terrace reflects the ripples stirred by koi tails, making one almost see the silhouette of a fallen prince from the Daoguang era drinking alone here. The most intriguing spot is the veranda by the Bat Pool. The painted beams have faded to a rusty color, harmonizing with the withered branches of the willows on the shore. The guide says this place symbolizes the phrase "blessings as vast as the East Sea," but which of the historical owners didn't clutch their blessings so tightly that they bled? 3. Architecture Speaks The 108 rooms of the rear building stand like silent historians, with the joys and sorrows of four generations embedded in their gray brick walls. The varying depths of the worn steps are said to be evidence of servants' hurried footsteps over different periods—from the arrogance of Heshen's household to the cautiousness during Prince Gong's time. The wood remembers the weight of each era's footsteps. The lattice panels of the Duofu Pavilion are carved with bat and cloud patterns. The craftsmen likely never imagined these auspicious motifs would become ironic footnotes in history. The preserved nanmu woodwork in the west wing exudes a faint aged fragrance. As your fingers brush over the cool textures, you suddenly understand what it means to say, "A gentle and luxurious place, where prosperity ultimately turns to emptiness." 4. The Qing Dynasty's Storms Hidden in Details To treasure hunt in Prince Gong's Mansion, there's no need to visit the exhibition halls. Simply push open a carved lattice door, and you'll find artifacts. The endless swastika patterns on the window lattices are tangled with cobwebs, like chains binding time. The scroll patterns on the ceilings of the corridors are covered in pigeon droppings, resembling graffiti from the dynasty's decline. The most striking sight is the double-layered caisson ceiling in Xijin Studio. Its faded colors form a mottled map, marking the route from the Qianlong era's prosperity to Emperor Guangxu's abdication. As the setting sun stretches the shadow of the rear building into a sigh, you suddenly understand why they say, "One Prince Gong's Mansion, half of Qing Dynasty's history." The fallen roof tiles, cracked steps, and faded paintings all use their broken forms to tell a complete story. As you leave and glance back at the vermilion gates with their lion-head brass rings, it's as if you see Heshen's sedan chair and Yixin's small carriage crossing paths in the fabric of time, the sound of hooves shattering the twilight.