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The harsh midday sun of a Beijing summer beats down on the shiny leaves of the trees along Ping'an Avenue.
Cars and buses brush past bicycles and swarms of passengers wait to cross the busy street.
Tucked only about 40 meters away from the hubbub, an old courtyard impresses visitors as an oasis of calm.
Sitting under a pomegranate tree, an elderly woman sews a small piece of mat, while a group of aged residents play Chinese chess beside the gray walls of old houses. Under an elegant doorway, a little girl does her homework on an ancient stone table.
Located in Dongsi 12th Lane, one of the hutong of Dongcheng District, the century-old courtyard, known as siheyuan (a compound with houses around a square courtyard), was the first of 200-odd siheyuan listed for protection by Beijing municipal government.
When the "No.1" blue plate was hung by the gate to the courtyard of No 39, Dongsi 12th Lane, on July 16, it marked the beginning of the largest siheyuan protection campaign in the modern history of the capital.
"I am happy that our courtyard will not be demolished in the future," said Na Manhua, the elderly woman taking a break from her sewing.
Na, 72, has lived with her 80-year-old husband Sun Huanming in a 50-square-meter two-bedroom house for more than 40 years.
"The house, over 3 meters high, is higher than most new apartment buildings in the city," said Na. "The wooden floor of the house, although dark yellow, still has a soft springy feel. We do not need air conditioning even on the hottest summer days because we just feel naturally cool inside."
The roar of bulldozers from construction sites in Dongsi 10th Lane, now Ping'an Avenue, used to bother Na.
She worried about whether her comfortable old house would be demolished and replaced by wider streets, a modern plaza or upmarket mansions.
The couple's three children -- two sons and a daughter -- used to live with them but all moved out when they could afford their own apartments. Na said her children tried to persuade her and her husband to move out of the courtyard and live with them. But neither wanted to leave their siheyuan.
"I think the siheyuan is convenient and comfortable for us elderly people," said Sun Huanming, Na's husband and once an employee of the Ministry of Communications. "There is no need to worry about climbing stairs when the elevator doesn't work, and the quiet courtyard and hutong are the best places for taking a walk every day," Sun said. "According to traditional Chinese medicine, touching diqi, or the earth's vigor, is vital to prolonging people's lives."
Like all households in the courtyard, Na and Sun have a small kitchen and a flush toilet indoors, well connected to the city's sewage system.
In winter, they still have to heat the house with a stove using coal briquettes.
"But it's not a big deal now," said Na. "We only need to make a phone call and coal briquettes will be sent to our home immediately."
According to Na, the courtyard was built in the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911) and was once home to one of the emperors' kung fu (martial arts) instructors. The gate opens towards the south.
Within the courtyard of about 1,000 square meters, there are 70 rooms. Half are the original buildings and half were built by the residents over the past few decades.
The largest room is about 30 square meters and the smallest one only 10 square meters, according to Na.
Today, 26 families, totaling about 80 people, make their homes in the courtyard -- six in the western part and 20 in the eastern part.
Na has seen little change to her section of the courtyard. "The western part that we live in has retained its original appearance the best," said Na.
The classical and elegant roofs, delicate corridors and old pomegranate tree still stand there, as remnants of history.
While the new No 1 plate protects the courtyard from demolition, for Na it could also mean change.
She and other residents want to know what the new policy means in terms of renovations, whether the extra houses, kitchens or toilets they have added to the yard over the years will be demolished, and whether some may have to move out if the courtyard is deemed to be too crowded.
But unlike Na and her husband, not everyone in the ancient courtyard wants to stay there for life.
Yuan Shuling, in her 40s, lives in a 27-square-meter room in the eastern, crowded section with her husband and college-aged son. The room was built in the old corridor.
She said she is tired of cooking in the 2-square-meter kitchen, tired of burning coal in winter for heat and tired of living "a backward life" in a city marching towards progress.
Yuan's dim house is separated into two little rooms by a large wooden plank. The outer room, stuffed with a washing machine, a large TV, a DVD player, two bookcases and a double bed, is for the couple and is also used as a living room. The inner one is for their 1.78-meter-tall son who is 18.
The white plaster of the wall has fallen off due to dampness and the old gray bricks are exposed in some corners.
However, Gao He, Yuan's husband, said he would not move anywhere else even in exchange for a larger, sunnier highrise apartment.
"The harmonious community here in the siheyuan cannot be replaced. Although it is crowded, our neighbors are like a big family sharing each other's every tiny happiness and sadness," he said.
"But in some highrise apartment buildings, people do not even know the family who lives next door."
Gao was born and grew up in the siheyuan and thinks the ancient quadrangle dwellings are perfect for local Beijingers. The real culture of Beijing lies deep inside the narrow hutong and ancient but elegant siheyuan, "without which, the Beijing I know can no longer be called Beijing," he said.
(China Daily August 13, 2003)
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