City within a city
A fan of Chinese historical period dramas, discovers a world of intrigue and opulence behind the imposing walls of the Forbidden City
DESPITE its past grandeur and massive courtyards, the Forbidden City is a sombre place as all of its 900 rooms remind us of its haunting presence. Like its name, the massive complex — enclosed by giant gates, high walls and vast courtyards — is a city in itself.
Tucked in the centre of Beijing and flanked by high rise buildings and luxury hotels in the Dongcheng district, the Forbidden City, like the Great Wall of China, is a must-see, especially for first-timers to the capital of China.
Like many people of my generation, I am intrigued by palace stories after bingewatching countless Chinese historical period drama series about scheming imperial concubines such as My Fair Princess, Empresses in the Palace, Scarlet Heart
Story of Yanxi Palace. increase of visitors to the Forbidden City.
The show relies heavily on Chinese history with intricate costumes and set pieces, replicated from the Palace Museum’s collections. Many have commented on the details, like the elaborate velvet flower or rong hua made by artist Zhao Shuxian for the character Empress Fuca Rongyin.
When the series ended, I knew where I should spend my year-end holiday — the Forbidden City, of course!
The Forbidden City is divided into two parts: The Outer Court where many official ceremonies take place and the Inner Court houses the royal residence for the emperor and his families.
Electronic gates and long stretch of ticketing counters have replaced the once heavily-guarded Shenwu Men or Meridian Gate on the south side of the Outer Court.
Visitors are screened and checked by workers from the Palace Museum. Security is tight. The security gate beeps as I pass through and a worker comes over and asks if I have something in my pockets.
I’ve forgotten to put smaller electronic items into the basket before passing through the security gate. The staff understands my predicament and just smiles.
As I pass through the main gate, I breathe in the dry and cold wintry air, overwhelmed by the massive complex.
“So, this is what the emperor must have felt when he went through this gate in the past,” I say to myself, as I look at the smaller gates on each side, reserved for high-ranking officials and members of the royal family in the past.
The chant of the traditional greeting to the emperor — wansui, wansui, wanwansui (literally 10,000 years of long life) — seems to echo along these high walls as I pass through the gate.
I imagine court officials and ministers crowding the stone steps as they declare their loyalty to the court.
When Ming emperor Yongle decided to move his court from Nanjing in the southern region of China to Beijing in the north, he had a grand idea: To build a city within a city with a series of massive structures that reflected the realm of the Heavenly Ancestor and the emperor, the Son of Heaven.
Covering 720,000 sq metres from the north to south, the imposing rectangular walled megastructure, which took 14 years to build (10 of which were spent on the details), is constructed not only to inspire awe among the Chinese subjects in the past, but also kingdoms from lands afar.
From the beginning, the Forbidden City was designed as a place of spectacle.
Franz Kafka in his 1917 notes described the Forbidden City as a place of “glittering and yet mysterious. The empire is immortal but the individuals in it rise and fall, and the people will never know anything about these struggles and sufferings within these great walls”.
The description becomes a sure-win formula for an oriental fantasy but echoing within these red walls with its gold coloured (the colour represents the five elements in Chinese astrology) roofs and mythical figures is a hidden world of intrigue.
It is here that many important imperial rites take place to ensure the harmony between heaven, earth and man.
Most important of all, it was the political centre of the Ming and Qing dynasties for