Upon my arrival in Beijing the sight of the blue sky caught me off guard. Are my expectations for Beijing too low? What is supposed to be ordinary and essential has, nevertheless, become an extravagant hope. It is indeed not surprising that many of my friends, regardless of their wealth, have escaped from Beijing and moved to Yunnan.

I have lived in Beijing for eight years. I remembered joking with my friends that it would take half a day to cross a road, for the roads were too wide and the city was too big. Beijing was just not designed for regular people: one is often prepared to be late for a meeting with friends due to bad traffic. The city itself serves as an excuse for you to be late. My recent trip to Beijing, however, impresses me indelibly. The transformation of the hutongs means that the city is more walkable now. 

Beijing aimed for a cleanup of “holes in the wall” to improve the city’s appearance. Back in the 80s, during the early stage of China’s reform and opening up, the Chinese government encouraged dislocated workers to start their businesses, leading small businesses to spring up like mushrooms in hutongs. In particular, people could start their small businesses once a hole had been opened in their private premises. As a result, hutongs were soon flooded with migrants coming from different provinces of China. More people came causing greater deterioration:a complete overhaul is therefore the only solution for Beijing’s transformation into a liveable city.

Unauthorised constructions in the hutongs have been eradicated one after another. Furthermore, run-down cornershops are affected and torn down, and the not-yet high-end “Beijing drifters” are also held in contempt and driven out. The cleanup has generated ill feelings for its all too simplistic and brutal efforts. Undeniably, the hutongs are prettier and neater now, and the locals’ livelihoods have also been improved. Yet, will the hutongs lose their sphere of being a mingling place of both good and evil? It seems not quite possible to come up with a perfect solution for such a complicated issue. I had better stick to my role as a tourist, and thread through the maze-like hutongs. This is the Beijing I am familiar with, this is the Beijing I like most. In addition, a number of sophisticated cafés and lodgings are established in the hutongs, and their designs are more of Chinese simplicity. After all, different from Shanghai’s xenophile character, Beijing is more Chinese. 

I allowed sufficient time for the hutongs in the vicinity of Qianmen during my recent trip to Beijing. That area used to be in a shambolic state, with cheap and touristy vibes filling the air. Despite the fact that Dashilar and Liulichang are lined with century-old shops and surrounded by old hutongs, it was not at all a pleasurable walk. Qianmen is a historic area which lies in the south of Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City. It has, moreover, always been a confluence of trade and commerce, and businesses also bring with them entertainment: it used to be packed with brothels; the famous Daguanlou Cinema is also in this area. The name of the Cinema carries Chinese uniqueness, which is in contrast to the Westernised names of old cinemas in Shanghai. This is Beijing, a place proud of its history and identity. 

I was meeting my friend at Sanlihe in Qianmen. But I found what I saw before my eyes unbelievable─this was not the Beijing I knew. The hutongs now breathed new life, with a touch of water-village ever since a stinky gully that had long been covered was overhauled. The little zigzagging rivers glided past old houses silently while the willow tree on both banks waved in the wind, lifting the ambience of the end of early summer. Coming into view was summer lotus in the pond, with koi chasing each other around. More significantly, one could tell that thought had been given to the surroundings’ design, for the walls of the streets and houses are applied with used old tiles and grey bricks and decorated with modest and quaint patterns. Evidently, there are no ugly cities, only lazy ones. 

A number of plain, old houses which aligned themselves on the banks had all undergone transformation. As I walked past the Spring Whispers Book Club, I was struck by its French window even if the house itself was not eye-catching. I then edged myself near the glass to peer through, and I spotted a few young people thumbing through magazines in a way as if they were separated from the outside world. In fact, the Book Club, being the first magazine library in China, is home to over 400 magazines from all over the world, some even out of print.

The founder of the Book Club is Rene Liu’s husband, Zhong Xiaojiang, who established this library to amplify the ceremonialism of reading. This is a good thing, for it could highlight the importance of things, especially when they have been overlooked. Reading is as regular and usual as other daily routine such as teeth brushing and face washing. Then, will it be reduced to mere pretentiousness after being attached with such ceremonialism? As we are confronted with the sharp decrease of print book readership, however, projecting ceremonialism onto the act of reading can perhaps be regarded as a stimulus towards it. Simply order a cup of green tea and immerse yourself in the landscape as you read, and the world you are encountering will transcend what lies in front of your eyes.