## Detailed walkthrough
### [00:02](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=2s) The 29-Bathroom Mansion and the Danger of Dispersed Qi
The discussion opens with a cautionary tale about a friend who made a fortune in the United States and immediately set out to purchase a trophy property. Armed with a book chronicling the 100 most famous luxury mansions in America, he bought an estate ranked near the very top of the list—and surprisingly, without even spending an exorbitant sum relative to its prestige. Soon after closing the deal, the buyer approached Ma Weidu with an unusual request: "Old Ma, you need to find me some Chinese rustic furniture, the cheap kind. I need to get a few shipping containers full because the house is too..." He imported an entire shipping container of Chinese softwood furniture, yet once unloaded, the pieces barely filled a tiny fraction of the cavernous estate. The owner revealed that the mansion contained an astounding 29 bathrooms. Ma Weidu quipped in response: "If you use one bathroom a day, a month will have passed by the time you're done. So, what’s the point of buying such a massive house?"
As it turned out, the buyer’s sole moment of satisfaction was throwing an inaugural cocktail party to show off the estate to his social circle. Immediately after the gathering, the house became an unmanageable financial and psychological burden, forcing him to put it back on the market. Behind his back, party guests gossiped that the owners must have "water in their brains" and were utter fools for buying such a white elephant. Ma points out that unless someone belongs to a massive multi-generational clan living in an ancestral castle or a vast traditional compound with dozens of residents, occupying such a gigantic space is spiritually draining. In traditional Chinese thought, an excessively large and empty house prevents one's *qi* (vital energy) from gathering; instead, the vital force disperses, causing the dweller to lose vigor and vitality. Therefore, a residence is not superior simply because it is vast. The true measure of a home is suitability, and the universal psychological boundary is straightforward: when you are entirely alone in the house, it should never feel unsettling or uncomfortable.
- The American mansion was selected from a published directory of America's 100 most famous luxury estates.
- The property featured 29 separate bathrooms, rendering regular domestic use practically absurd.
- A single full container of Chinese softwood furniture was utterly lost inside the estate's floor plan.
[01:53](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=113s) Status Woods and the Golden Rule of Symmetry
Transitioning from spatial scale to interior furnishings, Ma reflects on how Chinese living patterns have evolved between classical traditions and modern Westernized styles. Looking around a contemporary sitting area—composed of tea tables, single-seat armchairs, two-seater sofas, and minimalist modern bookcases—he notes that this Western-derived arrangement defines modern urban living. In classical China, however, a visitor could instantly gauge a host's wealth and official rank the moment they crossed the threshold: anyone furnishing their reception rooms with *zitan* (purple sandalwood) and *huanghuali* (yellow rosewood) indisputably occupied the highest echelons of society.
This high-water mark of Chinese cabinetmaking emerged during the late Ming dynasty, specifically around the Wanli reign (1572–1620), marking a dramatic technological and artistic leap in joinery and design. Its prestige continued into the Qing dynasty, reaching peak extravagance during the prosperous reigns of Kangxi and Qianlong, establishing *zitan* and *huanghuali* as China's most coveted hardwoods. Central to this interior culture was China’s core classical design tenet: absolute symmetry. Traditional halls were constructed symmetrically, and the furniture mirrored this architectural discipline. Central halls featured a dominant altar table flanked symmetrically by two armchairs separated by a tea table, balancing left and right in rigorous visual harmony.
[03:44](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=224s) The Hierarchy of Chinese Beds and the Northern Kang
Sleep culture in China underwent a radical qualitative upgrade after the Ming dynasty thanks to the rise of enclosed alcove beds (*babu chuang*) and canopy beds (*jiazi chuang*). Ma admits that he once mistakenly believed these elaborate wooden bed structures belonged strictly to southern China while northerners exclusively slept on brick platform beds (*kang*). In reality, alcove and canopy beds were widespread across northern provinces such as Shanxi, Shaanxi, Henan, and Shandong. While the heated masonry *kang* was standard in North China and indispensable in the freezing Northeast—serving as an economical winter heating system where firing the bed warmed the entire room—affluent families in many northern regions still favored timber beds.
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: Access and Hierarchy Comparison Between Western and Chinese Beds
accDescr: Diagram contrasting bilateral Western bed access with unilateral, hierarchical Chinese bed access.
subgraph WesternBed["Western Bed Design"]
W1["Open on Both Sides"] --> W2["Bilateral Access"]
W2 --> W3["Symbolic Equality Between Partners"]
end
subgraph ChineseBed["Traditional Chinese Bed Design"]
C1["Enclosed on Three Sides (Railings/Frames)"] --> C2["Unilateral Access (Single Opening)"]
C2 --> C3["Strict Spatial Hierarchy & Precedence"]
end
```
Beyond enclosed beds, Chinese interiors featured the *luohan* bed (arhat bed), characterized by solid railings on three sides and an unmistakable sense of orientation. Ma observes a fundamental philosophical difference: Western beds have no directional constraints and can be mounted or exited freely from either side, prompting Ma to joke with foreign friends that Western "pursuit of gender equality actually starts from the bed." By contrast, Chinese beds—whether canopy beds, alcove beds, or arhat beds—permit access from only a single designated front opening. This singular orientation intentionally codified household protocol, establishing clear hierarchies of precedence, seniority, and domestic status.
[05:00](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=300s) Traditional Furniture Taxonomy: Sitting, Supporting, and Resting Pieces
Beyond the bedroom, a classical Chinese scholar required a personalized studio (*shufang*) equipped with a painting table or writing desk, display cabinets, open shelving, and matched seating. Ma categorizes the core forms of classical Chinese furniture into four primary functional divisions:
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: Taxonomy of Classical Chinese Furniture
accDescr: Classification of traditional Chinese furniture into sitting, supporting, resting, and miscellaneous categories.
Root["Classical Chinese Furniture"]
subgraph Sitting["1. Sitting Furniture (坐具)"]
S1["Armchairs: Horseshoe-back, Official's Hat, Rose"]
S2["Stools: Square, Round, Bench Stools"]
end
subgraph Supporting["2. Supporting Pieces (承具)"]
P1["Painting Tables & Desks"]
P2["Dining & Side Tables"]
end
- **Sitting Furniture (坐具):** Encompasses armchairs such as the horseshoe-back armchair (*quanyi*), official's hat chair (*guanmaoyi*), southern official's hat chair (*nanguanmaoyi*), rose chair (*meiguiyi*), and armless stools (*dengzi*) categorized by shape into square stools, round stools, and rectangular bench stools for two people.
- **Supporting Pieces (承具):** Weight-bearing horizontal surfaces, including painting tables (*huazhuo*), desks, and dining tables.
- **Resting Pieces (卧具):** The four recognized sleeping and lounging surfaces in Chinese design: canopy beds (*jiazi chuang*), large alcove beds (*babu chuang*), arhat beds (*luohan chuang*), and daybeds/couches (*ta*).
- **Miscellaneous Pieces (杂项):** Freestanding utility and accent objects that shaped daily domestic ritual.
[06:03](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=363s) Miscellaneous Furniture: Lamp Stands, Screens, and Incense Tables
While modern homes rely on concealed in-wall electrical wiring, flush ceiling fixtures, and hidden LED strip lighting to achieve subtle illumination, ancient residences relied on specialized freestanding furniture like lamp stands (*dengtai*). Wall-mounted candle holders existed on pull-out arms, but floor-standing lamp poles provided movable illumination across rooms. Similarly, modern wardrobes use internal hangers to store clothes individually, whereas classical bedrooms featured decorative, freestanding wooden clothes racks (*yijia*) over which long silk robes were draped flat, serving an ornamental as well as functional role.
Screens (*pingfeng*) have largely disappeared from contemporary apartments because modern rooms rarely exceed 50 square meters. Ancient Chinese homes featured massive, open-plan structural bays that required folding or standing screens to temporarily divide space and block drafts. With modern rooms already segmented into small, rigid drywall enclosures, screens have become obsolete. Likewise, dedicated incense stands (*xiangji*)—prominently depicted in ancient paintings supporting Buddhist censers or scholar's burners—have vanished from casual domestic life. Today, these miscellaneous forms survive almost exclusively as educational exhibits in museums, as their generous proportions and formal symmetry clash with compact modern apartment floor plans.
[08:07](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=487s) From 1980s Modular Wall Units to Song Dynasty Chairs: Etymology and Evolution
To illustrate how architecture dictates furniture, Ma recalls his own wedding in the 1980s, when extreme urban housing shortages sparked the nationwide craze for "modular furniture" (组合家具). These massive, multi-functional wooden wall units covered an entire room's wall from floor to ceiling. A single modular unit squeezed together storage cabinets, clothes drawers, open shelves to display curio objects, and a fold-down desktop flap where a child could do homework. The modular unit was an ingenious, cramped response to severe spatial limitations; as Chinese residential apartments expanded in subsequent decades, the style completely died out.
Tracing the lineage of elevated furniture back further, Ma identifies the Tang and Song dynasties as the pivotal historical watershed. By the Song dynasty, the transition from floor-mat living to elevated seating had matured, fundamentally reshaping the Chinese language and character construction:
- **Table (*zhuo*, 桌):** Originally borrowing the character *zhuo* (卓)—as in *zhuoyue* (卓越), meaning "outstanding, elevated, or standing tall"—because the elevated surface stood strikingly high compared to low floor-level trays. It later incorporated the tree/wood radical (木).
- **Chair (*yi*, 椅):** Derived from the verb *yi* (倚), meaning "to lean against" or "to provide back support." The character originally used the person radical (亻) to indicate human leaning before adopting the wood radical (木) to signify a wooden backrest.
[09:32](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=572s) From Floor Mats to High Chairs: Sitting Habits and the Legacy of Chinoiserie
In antiquity, furniture was crafted strictly from wood—unlike modern times, where materials range from metal to plastic—which is why Chinese characters for chairs and tables almost invariably contain the "wood" (木) radical. While Europeans historically sat with their legs dangling over raised furniture ("dangling-leg sitting"), ancient East Asians lived at floor level, sitting on woven mats. Though Europe and Asia were sharply demarcated by these physical postures two thousand years ago, Asia eventually broke away from floor-dwelling culture. Lingering remnants of that ancient lifestyle survive embedded in everyday vocabulary: Chinese words denoting status, meetings, and banquets—such as *xiwei* (席位, seating), *yanxi* (筵席, banquet), and *zhuxi* (主席, chairman)—all trace back directly to the woven floor mat (*xi*).
The Chinese abandoned floor sitting largely because of an innate openness to absorbing outside customs. Traditional sitting postures on mats were strictly categorized by decorum:
- **Ji posture (跽坐):** Kneeling upright on both shins with feet tucked behind. This was the most formal, reverent, and polite posture in classical society.
- **Fu posture (趺坐):** Sitting cross-legged, often associated with relaxation or meditative practices.
- **Jiju posture (箕踞):** Sprawling with legs splayed out in front in the shape of a dustpan (*ji*). While undeniably comfortable, this posture was considered coarse, arrogant, and disrespectful in polite company.
While these historical nuances were detailed extensively in earlier lectures on furniture delivered on *Lecture Room* (*Baijia Jiangtan*), the overarching structural revolution in Chinese furniture culminated during the Republican era through the hybridization of Eastern craftsmanship and Western ergonomics.
Curiously, cultural interchange flowed in the opposite direction during the 17th and 18th centuries. As the European East India companies imported colossal volumes of porcelain, lacquer, and furnishings, an intense craze for *Chinoiserie* swept the European continent. To Western buyers at the time, "China" represented the broader East Asian aesthetic sphere; without distinguishing regional differences between China, Japan, and Korea, European craftsmen freely blended these exotic motifs with their own artistic sensibilities. This fusion left distinct physical imprints across European palaces, visible today in eccentric garden pavilions and decorative interior motifs that strike a Chinese visitor as oddly familiar yet subtly foreign. Regrettably, modern Chinese furniture design has lagged in creating a defining contemporary aesthetic, remaining largely confined to reproducing antiques or stamping classical patterns onto modern frames. A true revival awaits a new Chinese design language that balances modern practicality and beauty, unmistakably recognizable to the world.
The widespread modernization of Chinese domestic life is a remarkably recent phenomenon, unfolding predominantly over the past two decades. In the 20th century, everyday living conditions were cramped and spartan. Today, uniform clusters of high-rise apartment complexes dominate tier-one metropolises like Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Shenzhen, as well as second- and third-tier cities down to remote county seats. While apartments bring superior plumbing, heating, and utilities, traditional domestic architectures preserve the emotional memory and regional diversity of Chinese culture.
Skipping past the primitive cave habitats of early hominids like Peking Man, regional construction evolved to master local microclimates:
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: Regional Typologies of Traditional Chinese Architecture
accDescr: Diagram illustrating how climate and geography shaped indigenous dwellings across China.
subgraph North["Northern & Forest Adaptations"]
C["Shaanbei Cave Dwellings<br/>(Loess Plateau yaodong)"] -->|Carved earth with arched vaults| C1["Zero steel/cement<br/>Green, thermally stable"]
D["Northeastern Log Cabins<br/>(Forested frontiers)"] -->|Stacked 20-30 cm logs| D1["Sealed with loess mud<br/>Stout, fairy-tale timber"]
end
```
- **Hemudu Stilt-Style Houses (干栏式建筑):** Originating south of the Yangtze River during the Neolithic period, these elevated timber-and-bamboo buildings featured two levels. The ground floor housed livestock and stored agricultural implements, while the elevated upper story served as living quarters. This structural elevation provided crucial defenses against wild beasts, venomous insects, and ground dampness—a structural strategy that survives in southern minority regions today.
- **Loess Plateau Cave Dwellings (窑洞):** In the arid terrain of northern Shaanxi and the surrounding Loess Plateau, local inhabitants carved subterranean and cliffside homes directly into the earth. Requiring neither timber, steel, nor cement, these structures remain models of ecological efficiency. Their distinctive rounded vaults—prominently preserved at historical revolutionary sites across Yan'an—remain actively inhabited and draw cultural tourism.
- **Mongolian Yurts (蒙古包):** In contrast to permanent urban homes, the yurts of the northern steppes were engineered for a nomadic pastoral lifestyle driven by the search for water and fresh pasture. Characterized by a completely circular layout without interior partition walls, a yurt condenses dining, entertaining, and sleeping into a single communal room, creating an intimate domestic atmosphere unfamiliar to visitors accustomed to partitioned square dwellings.
- **Northeastern Log Cabins (木刻楞):** In the heavily forested frontiers of Northeast China around 1969, homes were constructed using massive raw tree trunks stacked horizontally. Logs measuring 20 to 30 centimeters or more in diameter formed heavy timber walls chinked with loess mud to lock out freezing drafts, lending the landscape a distinctively rustic, fairy-tale appearance.
---
[17:33](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=1053s) North China Courtyards, the Forbidden City's Scale, and Water Towns
Further south into North China—encompassing Henan, Hebei, Shandong, and Shanxi—brick and masonry became the foundational structural mediums. Architectural layouts directly mirrored family philosophy and social hierarchy:
- **Shanxi Enclosed Courtyards:** Built with inward-sloping roofs where rainwater drains into a central courtyard basin, this architectural style embodies the mercantile ethos of "letting fruitful waters flow inward, never outside the family gate" (肥水不流外人田). Originally designed for unified, prosperous lineages, 20th-century population growth and severe housing shortages gradually partitioned these expansive compounds into crowded multi-family tenements, coining the term "big messy courtyards" (*dazayuan*, 大杂院).
- **Beijing Siheyuan (四合院):** In the imperial capital, the facade and entryway revealed the owner's rank. A stately *Guangliang* gate (广亮大门), occupying the width of an entire building bay, broadcasted substantial wealth and real estate. Grand residences expanded inward along a north-south axis through three to five progressive courtyards, flanked by auxiliary cross-courtyards (*kuayuan*, 跨院) used for lush private gardens, studies, or guest quarters.
> "The largest courtyard in Beijing is, of course, the Forbidden City... The old claim of 9,999 and a half rooms is actually not accurate. The way the ancients counted rooms differs completely from how we do it today."
Historically, room counts were not tallied by individual closed interior spaces, but by structural bays (*jian*, 间)—the spatial unit framed by four structural pillars and overhead roof beams. For instance, the grand Hall of Supreme Harmony (*Taihedian*, 太和殿) spans 11 bays across the front facade and 5 bays in depth, translating mathematically into an immense 55-bay interior hall.
Moving further south into the Jiangnan canal towns, architecture becomes intimately tied to the waterways. In settlements set slightly back from the canals, houses combined heavy wooden structural frames with brick infill walls. However, structures built directly at the water's edge strictly avoided brick footings and exterior masonry because exposed brick porousness absorbed river moisture, compromising the structure through chronic dampness.
[20:00](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=1200s) Vernacular Adaptations: Suzhou Stone Foundations and Hakka Earth Buildings
Traditional Chinese architecture was always deeply rooted in adapting to local geographic and climatic conditions. In regions like Suzhou, where moisture is persistent, building foundations and ground floors had to be constructed entirely out of stone rather than brick. Because conventional fired bricks absorb groundwater continuously throughout the year, using them at ground level would leave a home intolerably damp. This principle of adapting to the environment is equally evident in Fujian's famous *Tulou* (earth buildings), which have gained widespread attention in modern media. Built primarily in circular and square configurations, these massive enclosed complexes were developed when northern migrants moved south into Hakka territory—"Hakka" literally meaning "guest people." Facing conflicts with indigenous populations and the ever-present threat of banditry, the settlers engineered an architecture of communal defense.
The construction of a Tulou is a marvel of indigenous engineering. It rests on a heavy stone foundation to resist water and settling, utilizes raw compacted earth as its primary wall material, and embeds a structural framework of bamboo and timber. By mixing plant fibers like straw into the mud, builders dramatically increased the tensile strength and durability of the walls. These communal fortresses unified multiple functions into a single structure: ventilation, daylighting, seismic resilience, soundproofing, thermal insulation, and military defense. Families lived together within these inward-facing circular rings, fostering an intense atmosphere of communal solidarity, shared culture, and kinship while keeping external threats locked outside.
- **Tulou Structural Materials**: Stone base foundation, raw rammed earth, bamboo and timber framework, with straw and plant fibers blended into the mud for structural reinforcement.
- **Defensive and Living Features**: Integrates natural lighting, ventilation, earthquake resistance, thermal buffering, acoustic privacy, and communal security against bandits.
---
[22:02](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=1322s) Imperial Palaces: From Qin's Efang and Han's Weiyang to the Forbidden City
While existing vernacular timber residences rarely predate the Ming and Qing dynasties—with only sparse, relatively small Yuan dynasty dwellings surviving in places like Shanxi—imperial palaces were built on an entirely different scale. Today, the benchmark for Chinese imperial architecture is the Forbidden City in Beijing, which served as the residence and administrative hub for Ming and Qing emperors. Yet in ancient times, imperial palace halls were vastly larger. Beginning in the Qin Dynasty, rulers erected gargantuan complexes such as the legendary Efang Palace. Excavations show that the front hall platform of Efang Palace stretched an astounding 1,320 meters from east to west and 420 meters from north to south, covering roughly 540,000 square meters. Its rammed-earth base still stands 12 meters high today—equivalent to the height of a modern four-story building. Because of its sheer immensity, the palace was never completed before the Qin dynasty collapsed, making it arguably history's earliest and most famous "unfinished project."
The succeeding Han Dynasty drew inspiration from Qin grandeur while managing to bring its projects to completion. Han Chang'an's Weiyang Palace covered an overall area of approximately 5 square kilometers. Unlike the unfinished Efang Palace, Weiyang Palace's structural remains survive intact enough to measure its completed grandeur. Its main hall measured roughly 350 meters from east to west and 200 meters from north to south, spanning an area of about 70,000 square meters, making it the largest recorded completed palace hall in world history. By comparison, while exact dimensions vary, the foundation of the Hall of Supreme Harmony (*Taihedian*) in Beijing's Forbidden City covers only around 10,000 square meters. Historically and structurally, the Han dynasty's primary ceremonial hall was roughly seven times larger than the grandest throne hall of the Ming and Qing emperors.
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: Scale Evolution of Ancient Chinese Palaces
accDescr: Comparison of hall footprints and completion statuses across Qin, Han, and Ming-Qing dynasties.
subgraph QinDynasty["Qin Dynasty"]
EF["Efang Palace Front Hall<br/>1,320m x 420m (540,000 m²)<br/>Base 12m high rammed earth<br/>World's largest, unfinished"]
end
subgraph HanDynasty["Han Dynasty"]
WY["Weiyang Palace Main Hall<br/>350m x 200m (70,000 m²)<br/>Complex covers 5 km²<br/>Largest completed palace hall"]
end
subgraph MingQing["Ming & Qing Dynasties"]
FC["Forbidden City: Hall of Supreme Harmony<br/>Foundation ~10,000 m²<br/>~1/7th the size of Han main hall"]
end
EF -.->|"scaled down for completion"| WY
WY -.->|"refined structural density"| FC
```
- **Efang Palace Front Hall Platform**: 1,320 meters long, 420 meters wide, ~540,000 m² area; surviving rammed earth terrace is 12 meters tall (~4 standard building stories).
- **Weiyang Palace Main Hall**: 350 meters east-to-west, 200 meters north-to-south, ~70,000 m² footprint within a 5 km² imperial palace compound.
- **Hall of Supreme Harmony Comparison**: Foundation estimated at ~10,000 m², meaning the Han palace hall was theoretically sevenfold larger.
---
[23:42](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=1422s) Tang Ward Layouts, Lighting Limits, and the Song Architectural Revolution
During the Tang Dynasty, the capital city of Chang'an embodied a rigid urban philosophy that strictly segregated commercial activities from residential wards (*fang* and *shi*). Ancients viewed commerce through a distinct societal lens: living quarters were exclusively for dwelling, while trade was restricted to designated markets, notably the East Market and the West Market. This clear demarcation is widely believed to be the linguistic origin of the Chinese term for shopping or purchasing goods, "buying things" (*mǎi dōngxi*, literally "buying East-West"). A literary manifestation of this setup appears in the Northern and Southern Dynasties folk poem *The Ballad of Mulan*: "In the East Market she bought a fine horse, in the West Market a saddle, in the South Market a bridle, and in the North Market a long whip." As a rhetorical device of parallel cross-reference (*hùwén*), this does not mean Mulan literally shopped at four distant posts, but rather highlights that organized commercial markets were formally laid out in every sector.
A major drawback of early Chinese architecture from the Tang and earlier was poor interior lighting, caused by thick load-bearing rammed-earth or brick walls, small window apertures, and the complete absence of sheet glass. Among the handful of surviving Tang timber structures in China—most famously Nanchan Temple and Foguang Temple on Mount Wutai in Shanxi, discovered by architectural historian Liang Sicheng—the windows are remarkably small, leaving interiors dim and cave-like.
```mermaid
flowchart LR
accTitle: Transition from Tang Enclosure to Song-Ming Openness
accDescr: Architectural evolution from thick walls and small windows to lattice doors and integrated indoor-outdoor spaces.
subgraph TangArch["Tang Architecture"]
T1["Thick walls"]
T2["Tiny window apertures"]
T3["Dim interior lighting"]
T1 --> T3
T2 --> T3
end
subgraph SongReform["Song: Yingzao Fashi"]
S1["Standardized structural codes"]
S2["Invention of lattice doors & windows"]
S1 --> S2
end
Everything changed after the Song Dynasty with the compilation of the *Yingzao Fashi* ("State Building Standards"), a comprehensive manual that standardized structural modularity across the empire. The Northern Song period saw the invention and widespread adoption of openable lattice doors and lattice windows (*géshàn*). These decorative wooden screens fundamentally transformed the relationship between humans and nature by pulling external space directly into the interior. In the mild weather of spring and autumn, an occupant could fold open the entire southern facade, completely erasing the boundary between inside and outside. The garden scenery, breezes, and natural light merged seamlessly with the living quarters. While extreme winter cold and summer heat required closing these screens, for at least half the year, interior and exterior were experienced as one unified scene—an aesthetic philosophy perfectly preserved in the classical gardens of Suzhou.
- **Origin of "Mǎi Dōngxi" (买东西)**: Traces to Chang'an's strictly segregated commercial zones, the East Market (*Dōngshì*) and West Market (*Xīshì*).
- **Tang Monastic Relics**: Nanchan Temple and Foguang Temple in Shanxi, identified through field surveys by Liang Sicheng, exemplify Tang structures with small windows and heavy, dim enclosures.
- **Impact of *Yingzao Fashi***: Standardized joinery and introduced lattice doors/windows, enabling entire hall facades to open toward surrounding courtyards and gardens.
---
[26:45](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=1605s) The Shrinking Ceiling: From Ming Lofty Halls to Modern Vertical Constraints
The physical volume of residences underwent a striking historical contraction. Ming Dynasty houses retained the lofty, expansive proportions inherited from Tang-style timber framing. Ming residences—even ordinary folk houses—often featured soaring interior heights. In earlier decades, surviving old houses in Suzhou boasted single-story ground halls with ceiling heights of 6 meters—the equivalent of two modern residential stories within a single open volume, giving the interior an imposing, grand ambiance. Many of these historic structures have unfortunately been demolished in recent decades.
By the Qing Dynasty, residential architecture began to shrink vertically. The primary driver was economic and demographic: a booming population reduced per-capita living space and made massive timber beams scarce and expensive. To save materials, houses were built progressively lower, and owners frequently inserted intermediary wooden floors into previously tall spaces to create split-level lofts. This structural downscaling continued into the late 20th century, when modern apartment ceilings were routinely compressed to between 2.5 and 2.8 meters, and in extreme cases down to 2.2 meters. At 2.2 meters, an average adult can nearly touch the ceiling with an outstretched arm, producing a deeply oppressive and uncomfortable psychological sensation during prolonged stays. For ideal residential comfort today, a ceiling height should measure at least 3.0 meters, with 3.2 meters offering an airy balance, and 3.5 meters providing an exceptionally comfortable, unconstrained living environment.
- **Ming Residence Heights**: Historic Suzhou residences frequently featured open ground-floor ceiling heights reaching 6 meters.
- **Qing Contraction Factors**: Rapid population growth and raw material shortages forced roofs lower and prompted the insertion of intermediate loft floors.
- **Vertical Comfort Thresholds**:
- *2.2 meters*: Highly oppressive; occupant can almost touch the ceiling overhead.
- *2.5–2.8 meters*: Standard mid-to-late 20th-century apartment heights.
- *3.0 meters*: Minimum baseline for modern residential comfort.
- *3.2–3.5 meters*: Highly desirable, spacious, and physiologically comfortable range.
---
[28:33](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=1713s) Republican-Era Modernization: Western Influences and Hybrid Villas
A dramatic architectural shift occurred during the Republic of China era, when Western architectural concepts, spatial layouts, and industrial materials—chiefly Portland cement and reinforced steel—flooded into urban centers. Influenced by Western aesthetics, urban builders began emphasizing striking exterior facades, giving birth to what the public called "little Western-style buildings" (*xiǎoyánglóu*) and freestanding Western villas. These structures were commissioned both by foreign residents and by wealthy Chinese merchants, warlords, and intellectuals seeking modern living standards.
Distinct regional interpretations of these Western-style buildings took root across China, creating famous enclaves in Beijing, Tianjin, and Shanghai. In Beijing, several prominent examples from the Republican era remain well-preserved, showcasing this stylistic transition from inward-facing traditional courtyards to ornamental, outward-facing brick and masonry facades. Key surviving landmarks include the former Duan Qirui Government site near Dongsi and Dongsizhitiao, as well as the historic campus of the Beijing Women's Normal College, standing as enduring testaments to China's early-20th-century architectural modernization.
[29:34](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=1774s) Republican-Era Architecture and Shanghai’s Moller Villa
Reflecting on China's architectural transitions, notable landmarks like Sun Yat-sen's former residences and the historic site of Fu Jen Catholic University remain enduring testaments to modern architectural heritage. In the early 1980s, when Ma Weidu was transferred to the China Youth Publishing House (中国青年出版社), the publishing unit was headquartered within an authentic Qing dynasty prince’s mansion (*wangfu*). Flanking the east and west sides of the courtyard were three-story, Republican-era Western-style villas. Walking through the front gate presented a striking aesthetic juxtaposition: ornate imperial Qing courtyard structures sitting right alongside Western villas from the 1920s and 30s. Unfortunately, because the publishing unit faced a severe shortage of administrative office space and deemed the historic buildings inefficient, they made the decision to demolish them. First, the Republican villas were knocked down, followed shortly by the grand Qing mansion itself. Relic protection was far more rudimentary back then; under today's strict heritage laws, tearing down such structures would be unthinkable.
By contrast, cities like Tianjin and Shanghai managed to preserve substantial enclaves of this architectural era. In Tianjin, the freestanding villas along the Five Great Avenues (Wudadao, 五大道) survived intact. Shanghai, with its longstanding cosmopolitan affinity for Western architecture, retains some of the most extraordinary examples in the country, most notably the Moller Villa (马勒别墅). Built as a three-story Scandinavian, Norwegian-influenced castle with spires and steep gables, it looks like something plucked straight from a fairy tale. The residence was commissioned by Eric Moller, a British-Jewish shipping tycoon, purely out of devotion to his young daughter.
One morning, Moller's daughter woke up and excitedly told her father that she had visited an enchanting castle in a dream. When he asked her to sketch what she had seen, the girl—whom Ma Weidu remarks must have possessed extraordinary artistic talent—drew the fantastical castle in detail. Moller used her childhood drawing as the architectural blueprint and spent a full decade constructing the estate. Today, the Moller Villa functions as a boutique hotel and restaurant surrounded by lawns and lush gardens. In a poignant historical irony, Moller himself never lived in the finished mansion for a single day before historical turmoil forced his departure from China, leaving behind a physical monument to a specific socio-cultural chapter of the Republican era.
[32:27](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=1947s) Post-Liberation Baby Boom and the Squeeze on Living Space
Following the establishment of New China in 1949, the nation entered an era of peace, and the population surged at an unprecedented rate. At the time of liberation, the country stood at approximately 450 million people. Less than a decade later, in 1958, Chairman Mao penned his celebrated poem *Farewell to the God of Plague* (《送瘟神》), which immortalized the demographic shift with the line: "Spring winds willow branches ten thousand strong, six hundred million in this sacred land all become noble" (春风杨柳万千条,六亿神州尽舜尧). Within just nine years, the population had swollen by nearly 200 million, and by the 1970s it had doubled to between 900 million and one billion. Because the early decades of socialist construction poured capital almost exclusively into industrial and agricultural production rather than civil infrastructure, residential housing construction lagged far behind.
By the 1980s, with over a billion citizens and virtually no expansion in aggregate residential square footage, urban living conditions grew unbearably cramped:
- **Beijing's Courtyards turned into Dazayuan:** Traditional single-family *siheyuan* (quadrangle courtyards) were subdivided among dozens of households, choked by haphazard, improvised shanties built across the courtyards until the original architectural grace was unrecognizable.
- **Shanghai's "Pigeon Cages" (*Gezi Long*):** In Shanghai's lilong alleyways, residents carved attics and lofts into tiny garrets where a grown adult could not even stand upright. Ma Weidu recalls visiting a family attic in Shanghai years ago to appraise a rare red sandalwood (*zitan*) chair; the ceiling was so low that he could not straighten his spine and kept banging his head, marveling that a piece of national-treasure furniture was squeezed into such squalor.
- **Micro-Living Conditions:** Many urban families were reduced to per capita living areas of under two square meters—smaller than the footprint of a single bed. Daily life spilled out onto public streets and common stairwells, where residents set up portable stoves to cook dinner outdoors.
- **Extreme Modern Residues:** Even in recent years, extreme cases lingered; Ma cites a news story from Shanghai where a family of six remained packed inside an eight-square-meter flat for nearly half a century, trapped because selling the tiny footprint would never yield enough capital to purchase a modern apartment.
[35:44](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=2144s) The Disappearing Ritual of the Public Bathhouse
As residential construction expanded in the reform era, personal living spaces multiplied, leading to the near-total extinction of a cornerstone of mid-century urban life: the institutional public bathhouse. Historically, nearly every factory, work unit (*danwei*), and military compound operated its own bathhouse. Military facilities were especially well-maintained, whereas municipal public facilities issued or sold bath tickets for five to ten cents. Smaller bathhouses operated on alternating schedules—odd calendar days reserved for men, even days for women—while larger venues ran parallel facilities.
Ma Weidu paints a vivid picture of the sights and sensory textures of those compound bathhouses:
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: The Mid-Century Public Bathhouse Experience
accDescr: Flowchart illustrating the gear, ritual, and communal pool environment of Chinese work-unit and public bathhouses.
subgraph Gear ["Bathhouse Essentials"]
G1["Washbasin"]
G2["The 'Old Trio': Soap, Towel, Slippers"]
G3["Clattering Wooden Clogs with Straps"]
end
subgraph Ritual ["The Bathing Ritual"]
R1["Ticket Admission (5-26 Cents)"]
R2["Soaking in Steam-Heated Murky Pool"]
R3["Mutual Back-Scrubbing (Rubbing 'Ni')"]
R4["Optional Rub-Down Service (15 Cents)"]
end
Gear --> Ritual
```
During his youth in an army compound, one common everyday scene was off-duty young women walking across the yard with washbasins containing the standard "old trio" of bathhouse essentials: a bar of soap, a towel, and slippers. Before molded plastic slippers became ubiquitous, bathers wore crude clogs made of thick wooden slats held to the foot by a simple strap, creating a loud, rhythmic clattering on the wet, three-centimeter-thick floorboards.
While municipal commercial bathhouses charged 26 cents for admission and an extra 15 cents for an attendant back-scrub, the physical experience differed radically from modern spa centers. Unlike today's crystal-clear pools with bubbling hydrotherapy jets and decorative stone lions, mid-century pools were filled with a murky, viscous "soup" heated continuously by steam pipes. The water was rarely changed throughout the day; submerging a hand just ten centimeters below the surface rendered it completely invisible. Swimmers soaked shoulder-deep until their skin softened, after which bathers almost universally scrubbed each other's backs to save money rather than paying for a professional masseur.
[38:26](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=2306s) Sanitation Evolution: From Communal Pits to Modern Restrooms
The transformation of domestic hygiene represents one of the most profound, yet underappreciated, quality-of-life shifts in modern Chinese history. The modernization of the home solved two fundamental bodily needs that previously required venturing outside: showering and using the toilet. In the pre-reform decades, private flush toilets were an extreme luxury reserved for select cadres or high-grade military quarters. Having grown up in such an institutional environment, Ma was accustomed to seated toilets from childhood and never developed the natural habit of squatting.
It was only when he was sent down to the countryside that he was confronted with rustic pit latrines, an experience he describes as a harrowing test of coordination:
> "The first time I had to squat to use the restroom there... I just worried I'd get it all over my pants."
Through sheer environmental adaptation, he eventually mastered the deep squat, joking that he became capable of remaining in a full squat long enough to read through all four pages of a broadsheet newspaper. Ma observes that dealing with drastically different physical environments was an essential form of resilience training for that generation. Over the past twenty years, public sanitation underwent a similar revolution; the dark, open-trench public restrooms of old—which lacked dividers, stalls, or running water—have been systematically replaced by clean, well-ventilated facilities offering individual privacy, odorless stalls, and modern plumbing.
[39:59](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=2399s) From Public Latrines to the Modern Home: Privacy and Pleasing Oneself
Reflecting on the dramatic transformation of everyday Chinese life, Ma Weidu recalls a time when personal privacy was virtually nonexistent. In older Beijing public restrooms, visitors encountered a raw, communal scene every morning: dozens of people squatting shoulder-to-shoulder along a single open concrete trough, with square pits carved along the top, while an impatient queue waited directly outside without any stalls or dividers. Today’s younger generation could hardly fathom, let alone culturally accept, using such facilities.
Even more harrowing were the wooden latrines Ma Weidu encountered during his youth in Northeast China. These consisted of deep, open pits underneath crude timber planks. Because the structure was completely open below, one could look straight across and clearly watch what the person opposite was doing. Looking back across the generations, personal privacy in basic bodily functions simply did not exist. The standard of living today has markedly improved: not only has average domestic square footage expanded, but essential daily routines like bathing, personal hygiene, and grooming can now be carried out within the privacy of one's own residence. Given that people spend more than half their lives at home, the central priority of domestic life within one's financial means should not be impressing outsiders, but rather "pleasing yourself."
[41:25](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=2485s) The Trap of Giant Mansions: Empty Spaces, Fear, and Qianlong’s Tiny Bedroom
As domestic space increased, many fell into the assumption that bigger houses are inherently better, yet excessive space brings distinct psychological burdens. Ma Weidu illustrates this through an acquaintance who constructed an immense private estate. Even when dozens of guests gathered, the rooms felt desolate. When Ma Weidu asked if living there was genuinely comfortable, the host conceded he had no choice since it was already built. A few years later, the friend had abandoned the sprawling main house entirely to reside in the much smaller guest house. Living alone or with just a spouse in a cavernous mansion induced genuine fear: misplacing a mobile phone meant searching fruitlessly for an entire day, and walking long distances through deserted hallways just to reach a bathroom felt deeply unsettling and eerie.
A similar alienation befell another wealthy friend who moved his ninety-year-old mother into a grand mansion fully staffed with domestic helpers. Having spent her life in the tight-knit, lively hutongs of southern Beijing—where neighbors constantly chatted and looked out for each other—the elderly mother found the mansion cold and isolating despite the luxury. Her only joy was stepping outside in the afternoon to feed bits of steamed mantou buns to the fish in the garden pond. The family even pushed furniture away from the walls into the center of the vast rooms just to make the interiors feel less intimidatingly empty. When her son stepped away, she quietly confessed to Ma Weidu: *"Is this even a place for people to live? It’s just uncomfortable."*
Ma Weidu points out that oversized master bedrooms spanning 100 to 200 square meters with towering ceilings are among the least comfortable spaces imaginable, making one feel like "guarding a warehouse" upon waking up in the dark. Throughout history, even the Qing Emperor Qianlong chose the modest, tight quarters of the Sanxi Tang (Hall of Three Rarities) for his personal study and retreat, featuring door frames so low one could nearly bump one's head. Traditional Chinese interior design solved the psychological need for containment through canopy and alcove beds (*jiazichuang* and *babuchuang*), hanging drapes to create an intimate, secure micro-environment that shields the sleeper from the hollow, overwhelming void of a large room.
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: Psychological Dynamics of Domestic Space Scale
accDescr: Contrasting oversized luxury mansions with human-scale intimate living spaces.
subgraph Oversized["Cavernous Mansions (100–200+ m²)"]
A1["High Ceilings & Vast Empty Rooms"] --> A2["Feelings of Fear & Isolation"]
A2 --> A3["'Guarding a Warehouse' at Night"]
A3 --> A4["Loss of Domestic Warmth & Community"]
end
[44:44](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=2684s) Hong Kong’s Subdivided Flats, Cage Homes, and the Mythos of Kowloon Walled City
The conversation shifts to the opposite extreme of living conditions: Hong Kong's acute housing crisis, where approximately 200,000 residents live in subdivided flats (*tong fong*) and notorious "cage homes," conditions previously condemned by United Nations human rights bodies as an assault on human dignity.
The panel turns to the historical precedent of the Kowloon Walled City, which was demolished in the 1990s but has since been romanticized into a celebrated cyberpunk aesthetic across Japanese video games, cinema, and literature. The panel reconstructs its singular historical reality:
- **Anomalous Jurisdiction**: Under the colonial lease agreements, the enclave nominally remained under Qing Dynasty jurisdiction. Consequently, British colonial police refrained from entering, leaving it effectively stateless, self-policing, and bound loosely by Qing-era legal codes.
- **Urban Ecosystem**: The settlement functioned as a dense, self-contained world where sunlight rarely penetrated the narrow alleys, requiring artificial streetlamps to run around the clock. Within its damp, labyrinthine network of dripping pipes and haphazard exterior wiring, unlicensed doctors and dentists operated alongside illicit factories, small retail businesses, prostitution, drug rings, and strip shows.
- **Cultural Imprint**: Celebrities such as Stephen Chow spent formative years in these dense quarters, navigating a living fabric shaped by mutual aid, triad influence, and sheer survival.
- **Architectural Paradox**: Some scholars later hailed the Walled City as an organic forerunner of radical postmodern architecture. With no elevators, residents climbed ten flights of stairs only to cross makeshift skybridges that connected into the thirteenth floor of adjacent, unevenly constructed tenements—resembling a three-dimensional labyrinth straight out of speculative fiction.
Dou Wentao and the guests observe the irony of how real human deprivation and suffering often end up sanitized and aestheticized by later generations as avant-garde art.
[47:43](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=2863s) The Shanghai Shrewdness vs. Northern Extravagance: Manager Mindset vs. Boss Mentality
Dou Wentao pivots the conversation to tease Professor Xu Zidong about the stereotypical cultural trait of Shanghainese shrewdness (*jingming*). Unlike Northern *nouveau riche* figures who derive status from overpaying and flaunting price tags—indignantly asking, *"Guess how much this cost? You think it’s 100,000? Are you insulting my 1 million?"*—Professor Xu takes deep personal pride in finding superior quality at a hard-bargained discount. Dou playfully invents an example of Xu boasting about tracking down 5,000-yuan paint for 4,000 yuan, feeling immensely sensible and satisfied by his precise calculations.
Professor Xu laughs off the invented paint story but immediately validates the underlying cultural observation. He argues that this trait is neither unique to Shanghai nor petty; rather, taking pride in securing high value for modest expenditure is a universal hallmark of the professional employee or executive manager mindset:
- **The Employee/Manager Logic**: Success is demonstrated by maximizing output through disciplined cost control and efficiency (e.g., delivering an exceptional project while conserving capital from a 10-million-yuan budget).
- **The Boss Logic**: Ostentatious Northern big-spenders embody the archetype of the entrepreneurial owner or boss, for whom public display of surplus capital, scale, and spending power serves as the primary currency of status and credibility.
[49:41](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=2981s) The Shanghainese Mindset and Eileen Chang's Refusal to Return
The conversation opens with an observation about how people project their status. For some, wealth isn't just about possessing money, but making sure others can never quite figure out their true standing. One might put on a show of frugality, only to abruptly turn around and order the most expensive item on the menu to prove authority. This leads into Yu Qiuyu's famous observation about Shanghainese culture: Shanghainese people make the absolute finest employees, but they often lack the reckless mindset of a boss.
To illustrate the complicated relationship between writers, ambition, and real estate, Eileen Chang's lifelong contradictions are brought to light. In her youth, her declared ideals were wildly ambitious: she wanted to be even more famous than Lin Yutang, wear the most avant-garde clothes, and own a lavish apartment in Shanghai. Yet in her twilight years, when Taiwanese media contacted her with the news that her beloved aunt—her closest confidante in life—had passed away, offering to cover every travel expense if she would visit Shanghai one last time, Eileen Chang reportedly stayed completely silent on the telephone for several minutes. Her final response was: "There are too many places in this world I haven't been to; I won't go back to the places I've already been." She died without ever owning any property in Shanghai.
The panel pivots to ribbing Professor Xu Zidong about his own financial habits. While Dou Wentao often turns to Xu for advice on life decisions—praising his meticulous calculations and practical cost-benefit analysis on purchases like buying a car—Xu admits with self-deprecating humor that he is personally quite wasteful when it comes to his own spending. This sparks a challenge to the intellectuals at the table: are scholars merely good at theorizing while ordinary people suffer through economic reality?
[51:08](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=3068s) The Crushing Reality of Housing: Sacrificing Youth for Concrete
The hosts turn directly to the plight of young strivers living in first-tier metropolises like Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, Shenzhen, and Hong Kong. For these youth, sky-high rents, meager wages, and unattainable home prices create a daily grind where basic survival feels precarious. A striking example is raised from a Hong Kong television documentary: a young man went without eating for two or three days at a time, surviving on nothing more than a single bowl of soup, all to squeeze out savings for a down payment. He took immense pride in his ascetic discipline, but the hosts question whether such deprivation crosses the line into what the United Nations would consider a fundamental violation of human dignity.
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: Housing Dilemma for Urban Youth
accDescr: The trade-off between sacrificing youth for a property down payment versus renting to preserve quality of life.
subgraph Trap["The Ownership Trap"]
A["Severe Deprivation & Overwork"] --> B["Distorted 20s Lifestyle"]
B --> C["Fear of Risk & Lost Dreams"]
C --> D["Purchased Property"]
end
subgraph Alternative["The Flexible Path"]
E["Rent Within Means (1/3 Income)"] --> F["Preserved Daily Well-being"]
F --> G["Freedom to Relocate & Explore"]
end
```
The panel emphatically argues against destroying one's youth for real estate. If you have the wealth to buy outright, you should buy; but if purchasing requires extreme suffering, renting is the only sensible choice. The twenties are the single most irreplaceable, priceless decade of human life, and distorting an entire lifestyle during those years exacts a cost vastly higher than any apartment is worth. Dou Wentao reflects from a Buddhist perspective on impermanence:
- Grinding in misery for five years promises no guaranteed future; you do not know what state your health or mind will be in, or if you will even survive to step through the front door.
- Real estate prices do not climb endlessly forever.
- Submitting to jobs you despise and fawning over people you resent just to hoard down payment money leaves Chinese youth terrified of taking risks, ultimately robbing them of the ability to dream.
[54:09](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=3249s) The UN One-Third Rule, Child Psychology, and the Meaning of Home
Addressing the practical dilemma of those who cannot afford to buy and yet find rental apartments cramped and miserable, the panel references the United Nations housing affordability benchmark: spending up to one-third of one's total income on shelter (whether rent or mortgage) is considered healthy and sustainable. Exceeding that one-third threshold forces individuals to survive on scraps, fundamentally distorting human life.
However, the calculation changes dramatically depending on whether one has children:
- **Childless Youth:** Renting offers total freedom to live in prime neighborhoods one could never afford to purchase, allowing people to pack up and taste completely different lifestyles at will.
- **Parents with Young Children:** Moving becomes a serious psychological hazard. A speaker refutes the common myth that children under two lack memory or attachment, sharing a personal story about moving homes. The relocation proved profoundly traumatic for their toddler daughter; even more than a year later, the child continuously begs to return to the old home and remains terrified of sleeping alone, experiencing the transition as a form of deep abandonment.
For unencumbered young people, the verdict remains clear: stop tormenting yourself with premature commitments, spend what you can afford, and treat renting as an open-ended adventure.
[55:25](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=3325s) Buying vs. Renting: Flaw-Finding vs. Hotel Romanticism
The panel draws an analogy between housing choices, marriage, and friendship. Buying a house forces you into an exhausting, pessimistic mindset: you must inspect every single flaw, hunt down hidden water leaks, evaluate potential neighborhood disputes, and prepare for the worst. As Yang Jiang once noted, a rope is only as strong as its weakest link; in homeownership, a single structural flaw ruins the entire investment. Renting, by contrast, allows for a generous, optimistic posture where you only need to appreciate the pros—the beautiful view from the window or the pleasant interior decor.
One guest compares renting to living perpetually in hotels, noting that they spend the majority of the year traveling between accommodations without ever having to worry about structural integrity, plumbing disasters, or school district boundaries. Dou Wentao agrees passionately, describing his personal philosophy of "the world is my home":
- When traveling, even a temporary hotel room is treated as his true home for that night; he unpacks incense and creates a sacred space, acutely aware that in life's long journey, this may be his final and only night there.
- He jokes that any visual eyesore in a room can ruin his entire evening.
- A lighthearted exchange follows where Dou recalls literally crashing on Xu Zidong's bed during a visit to Hong Kong, noting that when traveling, whatever bed you sleep on becomes yours.
[57:53](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=3473s) Hong Kong Bed Metrics and the Illusion of Luxury
The conversation turns to the harsh realities of living space in Hong Kong, where spatial luxury is literally measured by how many sides of the bed you can step out of:
- **One side:** The typical cramped reality where the bed is shoved flush against walls.
- **Two sides:** A modest improvement.
- **Three sides:** Considered genuine high-end luxury in Hong Kong apartments.
- **Four sides:** A floating bed layout that is essentially unimaginable.
The speakers argue that despite their wealth, Hong Kongers have never truly been liberated from spatial poverty. Even when affluent buyers purchase multi-thousand-square-foot luxury penthouses, the architecture stubbornly retains the psychology of poverty: large footprints are carved up into twenty cramped partitions, featuring a dozen small en-suite bathrooms simply so an entire extended clan can be squeezed into the same dwelling.
Comparing this to global capitals like London, the panel notes that the money required for an ordinary flat in Hong Kong could purchase a grand residence in prime districts overseas. The discussion begins exploring the North Kensington Grenfell Tower fire in London, drawing a parallel to how extreme real estate pressures and safety compromises manifest in hyper-expensive global cities worldwide.
[59:05](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=3545s) Public Housing Tragedies and the Chinese Drive for Homeownership
The discussion begins with an analysis of public housing, referencing incidents where subsidized blocks stand directly inside some of London's most affluent, upscale neighborhoods. Because these buildings house marginalized tenants—such as impoverished locals and Syrian refugees who were unable to find shelter elsewhere—maintenance was aggressively stripped down to save money, creating conditions ripe for disaster. The speakers observe that the true tragedy of renting manifests precisely when a metropolis turns residential housing into a speculative investment vehicle. In financial centers like London, Hong Kong, and New York, tenants are subjected to grueling rent hikes, turning tenant life into an ongoing ordeal.
By comparison, in Chinese tier-one cities like Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou, the wealth represented by property ownership is almost incomprehensible to the younger generation. Dou Wentao contrasts this reality with the common Western habit of lifelong renting, as well as the romantic philosophy preached by friends like Gao Xiaosong, who champions "poetry and faraway places" (*诗和远方*). Gao frequently teases Dou, saying he leads a constrained, miserable life because he remains fixated on buying a big house. Dou defends himself as a typical Chinese person: he insists that having a secure physical home must come first before one can properly enjoy the faraway places. After all, wanderlust is not a 365-day-a-year occupation, and deeply ingrained in the Chinese psyche is the cultural longing for "falling leaves returning to their roots" (*落叶归根*) and fundamental domestic security.
The panel analyzes the paradox of China's urban housing. On one hand, Chinese cities adopted the Hong Kong system of land financing, driving prices upward according to property developers' rules. On the other hand, the urban homeownership rate in China's major cities remains among the highest in the world. Among residents holding local urban household registration (*hukou*) in cities like Shanghai and Xi'an, approximately 80% to 90% own property. Even junior university teaching assistants who were historically allocated modest work-unit apartments now proudly remark, "My house is worth five million now." While this creates a pervasive psychological sense of having entered the multi-millionaire class, it sets up an intense generational divide: those who "got ashore" (*上岸*) early are permanently secure, while younger people desperately chase after the last departing bus, terrified of being left behind.
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: Housing Dilemma: Settling Down vs. Mobile Wandering
accDescr: A comparison between investing capital in urban real estate versus funding a lifelong mobile retirement on a cruise or in hotels.
subgraph Choice["The Hong Kong Capital Dilemma (~1,000 sq ft Flat)"]
A["Accumulated Life Savings"] --> B{"Allocation Choice"}
end
subgraph OptionProperty["Option A: Traditional Real Estate"]
B -->|"Purchase Flat"| C["100 m² Urban Luxury"]
C --> D["Psychological Security & Capital Appreciation"]
D --> E["Drawback: Tied to one place, high upfront cost"]
end
subgraph OptionNomad["Option B: Liquidated World Nomad"]
B -->|"Liquidate / Pay Cruise"| F["Luxury World Cruise (500-Passenger)"]
F --> G["40 Years Global Travel & Medical Care"]
G --> H["Drawback: Asset does not double; drifting anxiety"]
end
```
---
[01:02:14](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=3734s) The Hong Kong Cruise Experiment: Nomadism vs. Settling Down
Examining whether this property obsession can be challenged, a case study is shared of a Hong Kong friend who spent his entire youth dreaming of seeing the world, only to spend his career saving up to purchase an apartment. The flat measures just over 1,000 square feet (roughly 100 square meters), which represents a genuine luxury footprint in hyper-dense Hong Kong. When calculating his retirement costs, an alternative mathematical scenario was proposed: rather than sinking that enormous lump sum into concrete, he could sell the flat and purchase an all-inclusive berth on a specialized luxury cruise liner. These vessels carry fewer than 500 passengers—mostly wealthy retirees—and that capital would allow him to live aboard for 40 years, circling the globe continuously with meals and full medical care provided.
The idea sparks lively debate at the table:
- Dou Wentao and the guests joke about the psychological anxiety of life at sea, wondering whether forty years on the open ocean risks striking a Titanic-style iceberg.
- Others point out that the human resistance to this plan exposes an inherent fear of drifting and impermanence.
- Mathematically, one could cash out a prime property and spend a lifetime living across the world's finest hotels without ever needing to haul heavy belongings along.
- The economic counter-argument, however, is asset inflation: while a traveler is halfway through a decade of wandering, an unpurchased or sold 5-million-dollar property could easily surge to 10 million, effectively halving the purchasing power of the nomad's original principal.
- Looking at deep historical currents, the guests reflect on why nomadic civilizations eventually vanished across the globe; human history has overwhelmingly moved toward fixed settlement rather than wandering.
---
[01:04:40](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=3880s) Hunger, Grease, and Love: Zhang Xianliang's Ultimate Vow
The discussion shifts from material assets to the psychology of consumption and food, referencing financial writer Wu Xiaobo's observations about the modern Chinese gaze on Western dietary habits. The conversation then turns to the cultural appetite for richness, citing CCTV's audience rating analytics for *A Bite of China* (*舌尖上的中国*). The viewership statistics reveal a primal hierarchy of what audiences crave on screen:
1. First place is dominated by basic sustenance.
2. Second place is staple carbohydrates (*主食*).
3. Third place is rich, oily comfort foods, particularly fatty dishes like braised pork belly (*红烧肉*).
Director Chen Xiaoqing reflects on his professional relationship with food. Having made culinary exploration his life's work, he has trained his body to the point where he can sit at a lavish feast from start to finish without consuming a single bite, watching others eat with a calm, benevolent "keeper's smile." He notes that while he has reduced his intake to a single meal a day, communal eating carries profound social meaning, binding families and companions together.
Professor Xu Zidong connects the emotional weight of eating to a scene in Zhang Xianliang's novel *Green Tree* (*绿化树*). In the novel, the protagonist Zhang Yonglin helps a woman fix a table; moved, she hands him a freshly prepared millstone meal. In a passage Xu recites almost by memory, the character notes that he hadn't touched such a refined surface in eight years, vividly observing the woman's distinct, spiral whorl fingerprints pressed into the dough. Overcome with emotion, tears drop onto the steamed bun, prompting her to utter the vow: "From now on, what I eat, you will eat" ("以后我吃什么,你吃什么").
The table celebrates this sentence as the ultimate Chinese equivalent to *Titanic*'s famous "You jump, I jump"—a transcendent declaration of love that binds biological survival, psychological craving, aesthetics, and ethics into a single domestic act. Dou Wentao concludes by holding up Chen Xiaoqing's essays on dining, remarking that beneath all the exquisite culinary descriptions lies a lingering, Lu Xun-like memory of national material poverty and the enduring struggle to survive.
[01:09:02](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=4142s) A Sesame Flatbread and the Generosity of True Kindness
The discussion opens with an evocative story of tenderness and sacrifice centered around food. A speaker recounts an anecdote about a man whose father had a deep love for a specific kind of sesame flatbread. In 1960, the father had to walk more than ten miles between schools across the city on an empty stomach to visit a friend. Accompanying him was a female classmate from the Dabie Mountains, who also had an acquaintance at that same school. Famished along the road, the father hesitated before a flatbread stall, eventually buying a single sesame flatbread. He carefully broke it into two uneven halves, handed the larger portion to the young woman, and quickly finished the smaller piece himself. He then stood quietly, biting his lip as he watched her finish hers bite by bite. That young woman later became the narrator's mother.
The story resonates deeply with the table, evoking near-tears and lighthearted banter about whether his mother was essentially "tricked by a small piece of flatbread." The speaker explains that this family tale was passed down as a life lesson when his own son was preparing to study in the United States. His grandmother—the woman who received that larger piece of flatbread decades earlier—counseled the young man that when looking for a partner, outer traits do not matter nearly as much as finding a genuinely kind heart: someone who will treat him well and offer him the bigger share of life.
[01:11:00](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=4260s) The Screenwriter Turned Noodle Shop Owner
The conversation pivots to how food serves as a conduit for memory and human connection across different eras. A speaker shares an experience from lunch earlier that day at a noodle shop that had been recommended to him. While the noodles were tasty, they lacked the distinct rough, rustic pungency typical of authentic Chongqing noodles. Inquiring about the recipe, the male owner confessed that he did not know how to cook them at all and merely ran the front of the shop. His partner—not his wife, as each had their own family—had learned the technique from her grandmother in Guangyuan, Sichuan. The dish was actually Guangyuan-style beef bone noodles, made with thick cuts sawed straight from the leg bone.
Over a 40-minute conversation, the two proprietors revealed why they had abandoned their previous careers to open a physical noodle joint. The man had spent his career as a television drama screenwriter, while his partner previously worked in television publicity. When their company struggled and the industry turned cold, they opened the eatery to support their families. More fundamentally, the writer felt obsolete in the modern media landscape. Having studied classic dramatic theory, he saw himself as a craftsman of narratives, yet found the contemporary industry had no appetite for stories:
> "People today don't need stories anymore. They need 'emotional value.' Do you know what emotional value is?"
He lamented that traditional storytelling had been replaced by algorithmic demands, performance metrics like KPIs and ROCs, and casual livestreams where attractive personalities simply sit and chat to draw massive viewership. The grand artistic architecture of his dramatic ambitions had collapsed, leaving the creative landscape feeling like an uncultivated wilderness.
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: Screenwriter Career Shift
accDescr: Diagram showing the transition of a drama writer into opening a noodle shop due to shifts in the media industry.
subgraph Traditional["Classic TV Industry"]
A["Screenwriting & Dramatic Craft"] --> B["Story-Driven Narratives"]
end
subgraph Disruption["Industry Evolution"]
B --> C["Shift to 'Emotional Value'"]
C --> D["Algorithmic KPIs & Fast Content"]
end
subgraph Pivot["Real-World Pivot"]
D --> E["Closure / Downsizing"]
E --> F["Guangyuan Beef Bone Noodle Shop"]
end
```
[01:14:04](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=4444s) Ordinary Lives and the View Through Food
Food acts as a unique window into lives and perspectives one would otherwise never encounter. One speaker recalls a scene described in his book, set at a popular skewer joint he frequented during the quiet, pre-rush hours. As the staff prepped chili peppers in the late afternoon sun, a debate broke out among the workers about the most delicious thing in the world:
- Several workers insisted that Moutai liquor was unquestionably the peak of flavor.
- When asked if they had ever tasted it, one man admitted he had only sipped the dregs left behind in bottles by wealthy diners.
- He earnestly advised others against drinking too much of it, noting how easily it intoxicates and leads to loose talk.
The contrast between these laborers painstakingly sorting chilies and debating the nuances of a luxury spirit they had only experienced as table scraps created an unforgettable vignette—a slice of life that no amount of money could stage, reinforcing that stepping out to eat is ultimately a way of observing humanity.
[01:15:23](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=4523s) The Odyssey to Dine at Noma Before It Closes
The talk turns to meals that provoke genuine emotional tears. A guest recounts their pilgrimage to Noma, the famed Danish establishment repeatedly crowned the world's best restaurant, which was preparing to shutter its doors. Securing a table was as frantic as scalping stadium concert tickets. Once four seats were booked, the guest faced an immediate logistical crisis: arranging childcare for their children in Northern Europe.
- Two months were spent searching across Denmark and Finland for a nanny, offering exorbitant rates for just four hours of child supervision, to no avail.
- Noma's hospitality desk acknowledged the recurring problem among international diners and provided local childcare resources.
- Ultimately, the family flew the guest's parents-in-law in from Taiwan to Copenhagen.
- Noma accommodated their request to split the four-person reservation into two shifts—two guests for lunch and two for dinner—allowing the couples to trade off babysitting duties.
Despite its global prestige, Noma disarmed them with utter humility. Guests felt no intimidation or need to adhere to stiff fine-dining pretenses. The staff warmly applauded and cheered the diners as they walked through the front doors beneath the iconic reindeer antlers. The guest was moved to tears by the end of the meal, reflecting on the arduous family journey that brought them there and the sheer craft on the plate—beginning with a seemingly minimalist chicken dish designed to be savored plain, paired sequentially with distinct sauces, and unpacked like a culinary experiment from the chef's research laboratory.
```mermaid
flowchart LR
accTitle: 食材转化的烹饪哲学
accDescr: 展示从大豆到豆腐乃至分子料理的转化过程与中式烹饪的摆渡人角色
subgraph Raw["原料起点"]
A["原生食材 (大豆/竹子)"]
end
subgraph Process["转化工序 (出神入化)"]
B["炼丹点卤 / 酸碱发酵"]
C["厨师作为'摆渡人'"]
end
subgraph Dish["终点境界"]
D["新生形态 (豆腐/瓤豆腐)"]
E["菜肴与极致风味"]
end
A --> B
B --> C
C --> D
D --> E
```
[01:38:56](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=5936s) The Cold-Chain Cost Dilemma and the Aviation-Standard Dongpo Pork
The conversation explores the economics, safety regulations, and culinary perceptions surrounding pre-made dishes (*yuzhicai*). Producing legitimate, high-standard pre-prepared meals without chemical preservatives requires massive capital expenditure. Producers must maintain an unbroken cold chain from the processing facility straight to the consumer's home, alongside precision temperature management and sterilization protocols. This raises a fundamental consumer paradox for the mid-range dining market: would an average customer ever be willing to pay 70 or 80 yuan for a staple dish like twice-cooked pork (*huiguorou*) simply because it underwent an advanced industrial cold-chain process?
While diners often assume pre-made food should be cheap, premium industrial pre-cooking is pitched as being pristine, strictly controlled, and intensely flavorful. One speaker recalls recounting an experience on a previous broadcast of eating a portion of Dongpo pork (*dongporou*) that had been frozen for three months. This meat was handled according to commercial aviation standards—the most stringent tier in cold-chain logistics, where zero operational errors or bacterial lapses are permitted. Under such rigorous testing regimens, "three months, just three months, that’s as fresh as it gets," because continuous bacterial culturing and spot-checks are legally required before the food can ever be cleared for consumption.
Yet certified safety does not necessarily translate to gastronomic pleasure. The panelists note that whether something tastes exceptional is an entirely separate discussion from whether it is pathogen-free. When eating an authentic, freshly prepared Dongpo pork knuckle, a diner can lift it with chopsticks and watch it quiver and wobble effortlessly on its own; a skilled culinary storyteller can elevate the simple act of watching that succulent cut of pork into "an aesthetics lesson."
- **Industrial cold-chain cost factors**: Total reliance on continuous low-temperature management and advanced physical sterilization instead of chemical preservatives requires massive investments in specialized equipment.
- **Aviation-grade frozen Dongpo pork**: Kept frozen for three months under zero-defect aviation cold-chain protocols, where the product is continuously spot-checked and tested for microbial growth before clearance.
- **The pricing friction**: High-tech preservation drives up overhead, leading to mid-range dishes like twice-cooked pork commanding 70 to 80 yuan, which defies ordinary diner expectations for pre-made fare.
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: Industrial Standardization vs Artisanal Handcrafting
accDescr: A structural comparison between industrial pre-prepared foods and artisanal cooking, highlighting trade-offs between safety and flavor.
[01:40:46](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=6046s) Modular Cooking, Ingredient Nuance, and the "Laziness" Stigma
The speakers deconstruct the common misconception that pre-made dishes represent a monolith of standardized, lifeless food. In modern culinary practice, pre-made components are largely modular. A single dish may arrive broken down into separate sub-systems: an industrially formulated sauce packet, pre-portioned protein bases, and fresh aromatic accompaniments. The ultimate success of such a meal hinges on delicate fresh ingredients added at the final moment—such as fresh scallions or the tender garlic sprouts (*suanmiao*) prized in Jiangnan cuisine.
Securing that final touch of freshness is exceptionally difficult for cost-conscious restaurants. If an eatery tries to cut corners by sourcing bulk garlic sprouts hauled in by massive trucks from wholesale markets, the vegetable loses its delicate moisture, crunch, and aroma, rendering the entire dish flat and flavorless.
Beyond taste, the panel examines why consumers harbor such visceral disdain toward pre-made dining. The hostility often stems from a feeling of being cheated or disrespected. In traditional dining culture, the labor and time invested in the cooking process are viewed as an expression of respect toward the food and the guest. Shortening that process into a quick reheat feels like a cook taking shortcuts: diners instinctively react as if the chef is simply being lazy, feeling that neither the ingredients nor the patrons are receiving proper care.
- **Modular pre-fabrication**: Dishes are divided into discrete systems, keeping industrial sauce bases separate from protein cuts and fresh aromatics.
- **The Jiangnan garlic sprout test**: High-end dishes depend on tender, local garlic sprouts; substituting them with cheap, wholesale-market bulk sprouts ruins the flavor profile regardless of the pre-made base quality.
- **Psychological aversion**: The cultural demand for kitchen labor equates the time spent cooking with personal respect, causing diners to equate rapid reheating with laziness and disrespect.
---
[01:41:57](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=6117s) A Mother’s Guilt and the Finnish Lesson on Pre-Packaged Baby Food
Zhou Yijun shares a personal story illustrating how the bias against pre-made food impacts domestic life and parenting. When weaning her first child onto solid foods at six months old while living in Hong Kong, she subjected herself to an exhausting daily routine. Driven by the maternal expectation that everything had to be handmade from scratch, she mashed fresh strawberries every morning, puréed vegetables, pressed fresh tofu, poured mixtures into tiny ice trays to freeze for later reheating, and agonized over sourcing every ingredient.
When she subsequently moved to Finland, she was astonished to see local Nordic parents casually buying ready-made, commercially jarred baby food from the supermarket. Coming from an artisanal mindset, Zhou initially looked at the glass jars with intense suspicion, asking Finnish parents whether they were worried about chemical preservatives. The parents dismissed her fears, pointing out that vacuum canning achieves long shelf life purely through physical processing, completely free of chemical additives.
Hospital nurses in Finland actively intervened when they saw her exhausting herself, advising her: "Mom, don't work so hard, just buy it from the supermarket." The nurses pointed out that commercial baby foods were formulated to be nutritionally balanced and processed in sterile environments. They emphasized that it was far healthier to raise a child calmly—spending those two kitchen hours cuddling the baby, interacting, or taking a much-needed rest—than squandering finite energy over a purée blender. That simple counsel completely lifted her maternal guilt, shattering her earlier belief that feeding a child pre-made food was an unforgivable offense.
- **The Hong Kong artisanal approach**: Grinding fresh strawberries daily, blending vegetables, pressing tofu by hand, and portioning homemade purées into frozen cubes.
- **The Finnish public health stance**: Medical professionals advocate for commercial jarred baby food to ensure balanced nutrition and liberate parents from unnecessary domestic exhaustion.
- **Overcoming maternal guilt**: The realization that spending two hours bonding with an infant or resting provides vastly superior developmental value compared to spending those two hours slaving over a stove.
---
[01:44:06](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BytPrC7d_JA&t=6246s) The Myth of "Handmade Warmth" vs. Food Safety: Erucic Acid and Artisanal Oils
The panel turns to the tension between the romantic narrative of "handmade" craft and the cold reality of food microbiology and biochemical safety. Society frequently valorizes handcrafted traditions with poetic slogans—celebrating food "engraved in our hearts" or carrying "the warmth of my hands" passed down through generations. In reality, human hands are covered in bacteria. Homemade baby purées, for instance, rarely achieve true pasteurization temperatures (typically requiring tightly controlled processing around 40 degrees Celsius or higher depending on the method) in a domestic kitchen, leaving ample room for microbial contamination.
The discussion pivots to cooking oils to illustrate this paradox. Hand-pressed artisanal rapeseed oil is often romanticized over industrially refined national-standard oils. However, traditional small-batch pressed rapeseed oil contains high concentrations of erucic acid, a compound known to pose health hazards when consumed in large quantities, whereas industrial refining removes it. Similarly, unfiltered, extra-virgin olive oils from Spain or Italy are prized for their pure, pungent aroma, yet their lack of industrial filtration leaves them vulnerable to oxidation and particulate risks that artisanal marketing consistently glosses over.
Despite these inherent risks, the speakers admit that industrial standards inevitably strip away character. One speaker confesses a personal weakness for the aggressive, mustard-like bite of raw, freshly pressed artisanal rapeseed oil consumed within five days of production. A renowned Beijing restaurant operates on a similar philosophy, pressing its own peanut oil fresh every five days to capture the unoxidized, vibrant nutty flavor. Similarly, cooks in Hunan insist on stir-frying pork exclusively with seasonal camellia tea seed oil (*chayou*), which families hoard in the refrigerator even though it will inevitably oxidize over time.
The conversation closes on the reality that modern eaters must accept compromise: absolute industrial sterility and raw, authentic, artisanal punch cannot truly coexist. Just because something is produced according to cold industrial standards does not make it unhealthy or unsanitary; and just because something is bathed in the nostalgic warmth of handcraft does not mean it is safe.
- **The bacterial reality of handcraft**: Hand-processing inherently introduces bacterial vectors, and home kitchens cannot reliably execute the precision thermal curves required for safe pasteurization.
- **Erucic acid in handmade rapeseed oil**: Traditional, rustic-pressed rapeseed oils retain substantial levels of erucic acid, which industrial processing refines out to meet food safety guidelines.
- **Freshness windows for artisan oils**:
- Raw rapeseed oil retains its prized pungent, mustard-like notes best within five days of pressing.
- A famous Beijing restaurant fresh-presses peanut oil every five days to prevent lipid oxidation and maximize aroma.
- Hunan culinary tradition mandates fresh tea seed oil for stir-fried pork, accepting the eventual risk of refrigerator oxidation for the sake of authentic flavor.
- **The food safety dilemma**: Industrial standards guarantee hygiene at the cost of standardized blandness, while romanticized artisanal methods deliver unmatched flavor while concealing genuine biochemical and sanitary risks.
[0:02] Having made a fortune in America, the
[0:04] first thing he did was to buy a luxury
[0:06] mansion—he bought one in the U.S. He
[0:08] had a book listing the 100 most famous
[0:10] mansions in America, and he bought one
[0:12] that was among the very top in that
[0:13] book. Actually, he didn't even spend
[0:17] that much money to buy it. After buying
[0:19] it, he told me, "Old Ma, you need to
[0:21] find me some Chinese rustic furniture,
[0:23] the cheap kind. I need to get a few
[0:26] shipping containers full because the
[0:27] house is too..." He ended up buying a
[0:29] whole container of Chinese softwood
[0:31] furniture, but when it arrived, he
[0:33] couldn't even distribute a few pieces
[0:34] throughout that house. He said that
[0:38] just counting the bathrooms, there were
[0:40] 29 of them. I said, "If you use one
[0:43] bathroom a day, a month will have
[0:45] passed by the time you're done. So,
[0:47] what’s the point of buying such a
[0:49] massive house?" His only pleasure was
[0:52] hosting a cocktail party after buying
[0:54] it to entertain everyone once. The rest
[0:59] became a burden, and eventually, he
[1:01] just had to find a way to sell the
[1:02] place. Once the party was over,
[1:06] everyone was saying that these two must
[1:08] have water in their brains—they were
[1:10] fools to buy this house. It’s true;
[1:15] unless you are a large family living in
[1:16] an old castle or a grand courtyard
[1:18] house—not just a simple large
[1:20] compound—If you aren’t a big family
[1:22] , if you don't have a clan of dozens of
[1:24] people, you really can’t live in a
[1:25] place like that; it’s just too empty.
[1:29] Your "qi" simply cannot gather, and if
[1:31] it doesn't gather, it disperses. Once
[1:34] it disperses, you lose your vitality.
[1:36] Therefore, a residence is not
[1:38] necessarily better the larger it is;
[1:39] it’s best when it’s suitable. So,
[1:42] what do we mean by "suitable"?
[1:45] Everyone's psychological tolerance is
[1:46] different, but the limit is that when
[1:48] you are home alone, you shouldn't feel
[1:50] uncomfortable. That is the boundary. So
[1:53] , we’ve been talking for a while
[1:55] about how the Chinese live. Living
[1:57] involves the house on one hand, and on
[1:59] the other, it involves our furniture.
[2:02] I’ve already talked a lot about
[2:03] furniture in previous episodes. People
[2:05] are particularly interested in
[2:07] classical furniture. For example, the
[2:09] table in front of me is made of red
[2:10] sandalwood, and the chair I'm sitting
[2:12] on is yellow rosewood. Looking at this
[2:14] environment, it’s all in that style.
[2:16] For instance, this is a tea table setup
[2:18] . This is a single-seat sofa for one
[2:23] person, and these bookcases are very
[2:25] simple, plain modern furniture, while
[2:27] over here is a two-seater sofa. This is
[2:33] the state of life for most of us, this
[2:35] kind of Western style. In the past, you
[2:40] could tell how wealthy or what
[2:42] someone’s status was just by stepping
[2:44] into their home; those who used zitan
[2:46] and huanghuali furniture definitely had
[2:48] high status. When did this begin?
[2:54] Starting from the late Ming Dynasty,
[2:56] around the Wanli period, zitan and
[2:57] huanghuali furniture marked a great
[2:59] leap in our craftsmanship. It
[3:03] influenced the Qing Dynasty, especially
[3:05] during the prosperous Kangxi and
[3:07] Qianlong eras when many people were
[3:09] wealthy; thus, for a long time, our
[3:11] zitan and huanghuali furniture remained
[3:13] the most precious in China. In the past
[3:17] , China held a simple aesthetic view,
[3:19] and this aesthetic principle is very
[3:21] straightforward: it’s called symmetry
[3:23] . I have said many times that symmetry
[3:25] is the primary principle of Chinese
[3:26] classical aesthetics; we build our
[3:28] houses symmetrically, and the furniture
[3:30] arrangements at home are also
[3:31] symmetrical. Otherwise, we wouldn’t
[3:33] have those large main halls with a long
[3:34] table and two chairs with a table in
[3:36] between. Whether it's tables or chairs,
[3:38] everything is balanced and symmetrical
[3:40] from left to right. In our bedrooms of
[3:44] the past, specifically after the Ming
[3:46] Dynasty, the quality of our sleep
[3:47] improved significantly due to the
[3:49] widespread use of alcove beds and
[3:51] canopy beds. For instance, I used to
[3:54] mistakenly believe these beds were
[3:56] common in the south and rare in the
[3:58] north, but in northern regions like
[4:00] Shanxi, Shaanxi, Henan, and Shandong,
[4:02] such beds were also common, and not
[4:04] everyone just slept on kangs. Sleeping
[4:06] on a kang is generally common in North
[4:07] China and further north; in the
[4:08] Northeast, you definitely sleep on a
[4:10] kang because you couldn't endure the
[4:11] winter otherwise, as the kang can be
[4:13] heated. Many homes in the North use
[4:19] kangs; in a sense, it is a cheaper way
[4:21] to live in the winter because once you
[4:23] heat the kang, the whole room warms up.
[4:31] Then there is the luohan bed, which has
[4:33] railings on three sides and a distinct
[4:34] sense of direction. Chinese beds all
[4:37] have a sense of direction, unlike
[4:38] Western beds, which do not; they allow
[4:40] for free access from either side. So, I
[4:42] often joke with Westerners, saying that
[4:44] your pursuit of gender equality
[4:46] actually starts from the bed, because
[4:47] you can get on and off from either side
[4:49] . Whether it's a canopy bed, a tester
[4:51] bed, or an arhat bed, Chinese beds are
[4:54] accessed from only one side, which
[4:55] establishes a hierarchy of precedence,
[4:58] seniority, and social status. Beyond
[5:00] the bedroom, a scholar in the past
[5:02] would certainly need a study. The study
[5:05] would be tailored to the individual,
[5:07] featuring a writing desk or painting
[5:09] table, shelves, cabinets, and a set of
[5:11] chairs. Right? When we look at the
[5:14] furniture of that period today, there
[5:16] are many highly unique pieces that
[5:17] weren't discussed much in the past.
[5:19] What did we talk about most? "Sitting
[5:21] furniture," which means chairs. There
[5:23] are many types, and people have become
[5:24] quite familiar with them over the years
[5:25] , like the horseshoe-back armchair.
[5:27] There are official's hat chairs,
[5:29] southern official's hat chairs, rose
[5:30] chairs, armchairs, and so on. Then
[5:32] there are stools; anything without
[5:34] armrests is generally called a stool.
[5:35] Square ones are square stools, round
[5:37] ones are round stools, and those that
[5:39] seat two are called bench stools. It's
[5:41] very clear. Next, there are "supporting
[5:43] pieces." So-called "supporting pieces"
[5:45] are those that can bear weight. For
[5:46] example, this desk here is a small
[5:48] sandalwood painting table; these are
[5:50] supporting pieces, as are tables. Then
[5:52] there is bedding, used for sleeping. As
[5:54] we said, there are roughly four types
[5:57] of places to lie down in China: canopy
[5:59] beds, tester beds, arhat beds, and
[6:01] daybeds, right? What remains are "
[6:03] miscellaneous pieces." Miscellaneous
[6:05] pieces are quite interesting. In our
[6:07] daily lives today, we sometimes don't
[6:09] pay much attention to them, but they
[6:11] are actually very useful, such as lamp
[6:13] stands. Everyone has lamps in their
[6:15] homes today, whether it's a desk lamp,
[6:17] a floor lamp, or a bedside lamp; you
[6:19] have to have lights. In the past,
[6:20] because you couldn't install lights on
[6:22] the walls. Well, it wasn't impossible;
[6:24] you could have a wall-mounted lamp
[6:26] holder that you'd pull out to light a
[6:27] candle. Today, everything is electric,
[6:31] with wires buried in the walls, so we
[6:33] have wall lamps, ceiling lights, and
[6:35] hidden LED strips, making the lighting
[6:37] at home very soft and complex. But in
[6:39] the past, there was none of that; it
[6:41] relied mostly on lamp stands. Take coat
[6:43] racks, for example. Today, we have
[6:45] hangers inside our closets to hang
[6:47] clothes individually. In the past,
[6:49] Chinese coat racks were free-standing,
[6:51] placed in the bedroom to drape garments
[6:53] over. They possessed a very strong
[6:55] sense of visual decoration. As for
[6:56] screens, needless to say, few people
[6:58] use them in their homes today,
[7:00] primarily because our rooms aren't
[7:01] large enough. Moreover, as we mentioned
[7:03] earlier, ancient homes were often vast,
[7:05] open-plan spaces, and they relied on
[7:07] screens for temporary partitions. Today
[7:09] , our rooms are clearly defined, and
[7:11] the average room in a typical household
[7:13] doesn't exceed 50 square meters. So,
[7:15] there’s no further need for these
[7:17] screens. Then there are incense stands;
[7:20] if you look at ancient paintings,
[7:22] you'll often see them used when people
[7:24] burned incense or worshiped, with a
[7:26] dedicated stand for the Buddha. We
[7:30] aren't that particular nowadays, so
[7:32] these miscellaneous pieces of furniture
[7:34] now appear mostly as display items or
[7:35] educational pieces, which you can see
[7:37] in museums. Right? If you visit a
[7:41] museum today, you can see these things,
[7:43] but we live in apartments now, and
[7:45] ancient furniture is relatively large
[7:47] —bigger than modern furniture—so
[7:49] it's impossible to place them in such
[7:51] small rooms. Plus, the layouts of our
[7:54] homes today are all different, right?
[7:57] There’s no longer an excessive
[7:59] emphasis on symmetry either. So, what
[8:02] happens when symmetry isn't required?
[8:04] What do you do if your house is small?
[8:07] In the 1980s, back when I got married,
[8:09] there was a trend called "modular
[8:11] furniture." It meant combining all your
[8:14] furniture into a single wall unit,
[8:16] which saved space and was practical.
[8:18] Modular furniture meant having
[8:20] compartments and doors; maybe a board
[8:22] would flip down so a child could do
[8:24] homework, here would be a drawer, there
[8:26] a cabinet door, and on top, shelves to
[8:28] display antiques, so they made these
[8:30] modular units very complex. It saved
[8:32] space by occupying only one wall. In
[8:35] fact, this type of modular furniture
[8:37] was a product of having very small
[8:39] living areas. Later, as our housing
[8:42] improved, modular furniture gradually
[8:44] faded away and disappeared. Actually,
[8:47] Chinese furniture developed quite early
[8:50] on. We often say the Tang and Song
[8:52] dynasties were a turning point; by the
[8:54] Song dynasty, Chinese furniture had
[8:56] basically taken shape. Take tables, for
[8:59] example—why are they called "zhuozi"?
[9:01] It’s because they are elevated. We
[9:03] used to sit on the floor, and suddenly
[9:05] these tables were made so high, so the
[9:06] character for "table"(zhuo) was written
[9:08] as the "zhuo" in "zhuoyue"(outstanding)
[9:10] , standing tall and firm. Chairs are
[9:11] simple; aren't chairs for leaning on?
[9:13] They provide back support, so
[9:14] eventually, both characters were given
[9:16] the "wood" radical; and the "zhuo" in
[9:18] table, doesn't it have a "cross" symbol
[9:19] at the bottom? Change it to the
[9:21] character for "wood" with a leaning
[9:22] radical; change the radical for "person
[9:23] " to the one for "wood." Because most
[9:26] of our ancient furniture was made of
[9:28] wood, you might say today that your
[9:30] furniture is steel, aluminum, synthetic
[9:32] , or plastic, but in ancient times,
[9:34] there was only wood. So, tables and
[9:38] chairs are all related to the character
[9:40] for wood; we've talked about this a lot
[9:42] , so I won't go into detail here.
[9:45] Originally, Europeans sat with their
[9:47] legs dangling—what we call "
[9:49] dangling-leg sitting"—while in Asia,
[9:51] we sat on mats, cross-legged on the
[9:53] floor. If you think about it, 2,000
[10:00] years ago, Europe and Asia were clearly
[10:02] divided, but today, only we in Asia
[10:04] have completely said goodbye to
[10:06] floor-sitting. The cultural traces left
[10:14] behind are in our vocabulary, like
[10:16] words for "seating,""banquet," or "
[10:18] chairman," all rooted in those early
[10:20] floor mats; so why did we change these
[10:22] habits? It’s because Chinese people
[10:28] are particularly good at learning; for
[10:30] example, we have many sitting postures,
[10:32] whether sitting on the floor or on
[10:33] furniture. The first is the "Ji"
[10:36] posture, which means kneeling—
[10:37] kneeling down is considered the most
[10:39] formal way to sit. Then there is the "
[10:43] Fu" posture, which is sitting
[10:44] cross-legged, and the "Ji" posture,
[10:46] where you stretch both legs out in
[10:48] front; that’s very comfortable but
[10:50] quite unrefined. Actually, if you want
[10:55] to learn more, you can watch my early
[10:56] lectures on furniture from "Lecture
[10:58] Room," which contains a vast amount of
[11:00] content that we can’t cover in this
[11:02] program. The true revolution in our
[11:05] furniture only began when we entered
[11:06] the Republican era. After entering the
[11:08] Republican period, a Western style
[11:10] emerged, leading to what we call fusion
[11:12] furniture combining East and West. In
[11:14] fact, during the 18th century, a strong
[11:17] "Chinoiserie" trend swept through
[11:19] Europe. This Chinese style emerged
[11:24] around the 17th and 18th centuries,
[11:25] when European East India companies were
[11:27] buying massive amounts of goods from
[11:29] China. At that time, our Chinese style
[11:35] was effectively the fashion across all
[11:37] of Europe. The "China" of that time, of
[11:40] course, also encompassed the entire
[11:42] East Asian region with China as its
[11:44] center. Foreigners couldn't clearly
[11:48] distinguish the subtle differences
[11:50] between China, Japan, and Korea, which
[11:52] we can easily tell apart. So, they took
[11:57] these items and incorporated them with
[11:58] their own inspiration. This created a
[12:02] new style, which is basically what we
[12:04] call "Chinoiserie." Regarding this
[12:07] Chinoiserie style, if you have the
[12:09] chance to visit Europe today and happen
[12:11] to see a pavilion that looks a bit
[12:12] peculiar, it is definitely Chinoiserie.
[12:15] When you visit many palaces in Europe,
[12:17] whenever you see something that
[12:18] suddenly catches your eye and feels
[12:20] familiar or welcoming, it is surely
[12:22] influenced by Chinoiserie. It’s a
[12:25] pity that today, regarding our
[12:26] furniture—let's talk about furniture
[12:28] first—we haven't seen newer, iconic
[12:30] Chinese-style pieces. Today’s
[12:32] furniture is either just a modification
[12:34] of old pieces or new furniture with a
[12:36] few classical cultural symbols added. I
[12:40] truly hope that in the near future, we
[12:42] will have a day where we Chinese can
[12:44] design a kind of new Chinese-style
[12:45] furniture that is both practical and
[12:47] beautiful. And this kind of
[12:49] Chinese-style furniture should be
[12:50] instantly recognizable to people all
[12:52] over the world as being designed by the
[12:54] Chinese. When that day comes, we will
[12:56] certainly spark another wave of
[12:58] Chinoiserie in Europe. For most of us,
[13:01] the improvement in our living
[13:02] environment is something that has only
[13:04] happened in the last 20 years. In the
[13:06] last century, the living conditions for
[13:08] ordinary people were generally quite
[13:09] difficult. But now, whether it's big
[13:12] cities like Beijing, Shanghai,
[13:14] Guangzhou, and Shenzhen, or second or
[13:16] third-tier cities, or even small
[13:18] counties, high-rises stand everywhere.
[13:21] Wherever I go now, I see the same
[13:23] groups of high-rise buildings. I think
[13:26] everyone has experienced the pros and
[13:28] cons of living in apartment buildings,
[13:30] but new housing has certainly improved
[13:32] infrastructure, making our lives more
[13:34] convenient. However, the cultural value
[13:38] of traditional housing is where our
[13:40] emotions lie. So today, let's talk
[13:43] about what our traditional houses were
[13:45] like. We must go from the distant past
[13:48] to the primitive society; needless to
[13:50] say, the ancients just found caves to
[13:52] live in, otherwise why would they be
[13:54] called "Peking Man"(literally, Upper
[13:56] Cave Man)? So, skipping the primitive
[13:59] society, we directly trace back to two
[14:01] of our cultures, which is the
[14:03] stilt-style architecture. Stilt
[14:06] architecture was an important
[14:08] architectural form in the Neolithic Age
[14:10] south of the Yangtze River.
[14:12] Archaeological discoveries of the
[14:13] earliest stilt-style buildings are the
[14:15] Hemudu stilt-style structures. These
[14:17] buildings mainly used bamboo and wood
[14:19] as construction materials and were
[14:20] generally two-story structures; the
[14:22] lower level was for raising animals and
[14:24] storing sundries. The upper level was
[14:26] for living. This design, which is
[14:28] raised off the ground, was first
[14:30] considered for safety. Safety in the
[14:33] south means protection against insects.
[14:36] Protection against wild beasts. And
[14:40] there is also protection against
[14:42] dampness. This type of stilt-style
[14:44] architectural form has actually
[14:45] continued to this day. Depending on the
[14:48] environment of each region, the variety
[14:50] of our housing is quite rich. Take our
[14:53] Loess Plateau, for example; those who
[14:55] have been to northern Shaanxi know that
[14:57] people live in cave dwellings. What is
[14:59] the benefit of this? It doesn't consume
[15:02] resources; there is no need for steel
[15:04] or cement. It is very green and
[15:07] environmentally friendly. This form of
[15:09] cave dwelling has actually been
[15:10] preserved to this day. If we look at
[15:12] the northern Shaanxi Plateau, the Loess
[15:14] Plateau, and the surrounding areas,
[15:16] people are still living in them today.
[15:18] As an ancient form of architecture, it
[15:20] actually sometimes attracts tourists to
[15:22] come and see. Our early cave dwellings
[15:26] were rounded at the top, like those in
[15:28] Yan'an, our revolutionary holy site.
[15:32] There were many such caves that I
[15:34] visited back then. Besides that, there
[15:39] are also portable structures, like
[15:41] tents. Most of our tents today are for
[15:45] family use, where a family of three
[15:47] buys a simple tent to set up during an
[15:49] outing, but they aren't for living in.
[15:53] So what kind of tents are for living in
[15:54] ? The most typical example is the yurt
[15:57] found on the Mongolian grasslands. It's
[16:01] called a yurt, but it's essentially a
[16:03] large tent used by the Mongol people.
[16:06] The Mongol people live where there is
[16:08] water and grass, migrating every year.
[16:11] Therefore, their homes cannot be fixed
[16:13] in one place, so they must use these
[16:15] portable structures that can be taken
[16:17] down and rebuilt. The deepest
[16:21] impression the yurt left on me is the
[16:23] visual experience; once you enter, it's
[16:25] circular. Most of our homes are square,
[16:30] so this circular building has no
[16:32] partitions, and everything happens here
[16:34] —like sleeping, hosting guests, and
[16:36] eating. So the whole family is in one
[16:42] big room; this feeling is quite a
[16:44] magical experience. I had this feeling
[16:48] when I first went to Inner Mongolia in
[16:50] my twenties. Then there is our
[16:54] Northeast region. I went to the
[16:59] Northeast at the beginning of 1969, and
[17:01] when I saw the houses built from logs,
[17:03] it was quite impactful. Those logs were
[17:08] so thick. The logs used to build the
[17:11] houses were about this thick, over 20
[17:13] centimeters or even 30 centimeters in
[17:15] diameter, all stacked up one by one.
[17:17] They used loess to fill the gaps.
[17:19] Looking back now, building a house like
[17:21] that today would be too extravagant, as
[17:23] it was made entirely of wood. But back
[17:26] then, the Northeast relied on these
[17:28] large logs to build, creating houses
[17:30] with a very fairy-tale quality. Now,
[17:33] let's take a look at our North China
[17:34] region. Because China is vast and
[17:36] expansive, with such a large territory,
[17:38] the styles vary accordingly. In North
[17:40] China, houses are primarily brick. If
[17:42] we look at the region—Henan, Hebei,
[17:44] Shandong, and Shanxi—these places all
[17:46] feature brick construction. The house
[17:48] designs differ. For example, houses in
[17:51] Shanxi are almost all enclosed
[17:53] courtyards with inward-sloping roofs, a
[17:55] design known as "keeping the wealth
[17:57] within the family." These courtyards
[18:00] were originally intended for single
[18:01] families and were relatively spacious.
[18:03] Later, due to population growth and a
[18:05] lack of new construction over the years
[18:07] , many people were squeezed into one
[18:09] courtyard, turning them into "big messy
[18:11] courtyards." That’s how the name "big
[18:13] messy courtyard" came about. The
[18:15] wealthy, however, lived in
[18:16] multi-layered siheyuan (courtyard
[18:18] houses) with side wings, like those in
[18:20] Beijing. In the past, you could tell a
[18:21] lot about a Beijing residence just by
[18:23] looking at its gate. One look at a "
[18:25] Guangliang" grand gate, and you know.
[18:27] It means the family owns many rooms.
[18:29] Just think, if your gate alone takes up
[18:31] the space of three rooms, you surely
[18:33] have a lot of property. For those with
[18:35] simple, modest gates where you just
[18:37] push the door to enter, your house is
[18:38] likely smaller. As for Beijing's grand
[18:41] siheyuan...They were built to a higher
[18:43] standard, usually with three or even
[18:45] five layers of courtyards, plus side
[18:47] wings. What is a side wing? It’s an
[18:51] auxiliary courtyard situated outside
[18:53] the main central axis, often used as a
[18:55] garden or for guest accommodations.
[18:59] Needless to say, the largest courtyard
[19:01] in Beijing is the Forbidden City. It
[19:04] has countless rooms; despite being
[19:06] counted many times, the old claim of
[19:09] 9,999.5 rooms is actually not accurate.
[19:12] The way the ancients counted rooms is
[19:14] different from how we do it today.
[19:17] Nowadays, we count one room as one unit
[19:19] regardless of size, but they counted
[19:21] based on the roof beams and columns;
[19:23] one span between pillars counted as one
[19:26] room. For example, the Hall of Supreme
[19:29] Harmony is 11 bays wide and 5 bays deep
[19:32] , which is equivalent to 55 rooms, a
[19:34] truly massive scale. If we head further
[19:37] into the Jiangnan region, you’ll
[19:38] notice that everything is connected to
[19:40] water. In areas slightly further from
[19:43] the water, most of the houses are built
[19:45] primarily with wood and supplemented
[19:47] with brick. Houses built right by the
[19:50] water generally avoid using brick; why
[19:52] is that? Because brick is too absorbent
[19:54] . If you look closely, especially at
[19:58] the architecture along the rivers in
[20:00] the Suzhou area, the foundations and
[20:01] such are all made of stone, including
[20:03] the floors. Bricks can’t handle it;
[20:07] because they absorb water year-round,
[20:09] the house would become far too damp.
[20:11] Therefore, building a house must always
[20:13] be adapted to local conditions. For
[20:15] example, in recent years, we’ve seen
[20:17] through videos that there is a type of
[20:19] architecture in Fujian called the Tulou
[20:20] , or "earth building." Most of these
[20:22] Tulou are circular, though some are
[20:24] square. These earth buildings were
[20:27] constructed when northerners migrated
[20:28] south. They were designed in this
[20:32] enclosed style to defend against
[20:33] excessive conflict with the locals and
[20:35] to protect against bandits. This
[20:38] enclosed architectural style is
[20:39] particularly well-suited for communal
[20:41] living, which gives it a very strong
[20:43] sense of cultural atmosphere and human
[20:45] connection. In fact, the structure of
[20:48] the Tulou is quite unique; it uses
[20:50] stone for the foundation, raw earth as
[20:52] the main material, and bamboo or wood
[20:54] as the structural reinforcement. You
[20:58] know, if you mix plant fibers like
[21:00] straw into this mud, it becomes much
[21:02] more durable and stronger. So, these
[21:05] earth buildings combine features like
[21:07] ventilation, lighting, earthquake
[21:09] resistance, sound insulation, heat
[21:11] preservation, and defense all in one.
[21:14] The formation of these Tulou was not
[21:16] accidental; it was influenced by the
[21:18] local environment and the Hakka people
[21:20] —the name itself implies "guest
[21:21] people"—who designed them to band
[21:23] together and guard against outside
[21:25] intrusions. We’ve been talking about
[21:29] residential houses for a while now,
[21:30] which we can still see today. Most of
[21:33] the old houses found across the country
[21:35] date back to the Ming and Qing
[21:36] dynasties. Occasionally, you can find
[21:39] Yuan dynasty dwellings in places like
[21:41] Shanxi, though from the data I've seen,
[21:44] Yuan dynasty houses were relatively
[21:45] small. But as for palaces, the one we
[21:49] see is the Forbidden City. It was the
[21:54] grand palace of both the Ming and Qing
[21:56] dynasties; it served as the Emperor’s
[21:57] residence and his place of work. So,
[22:02] when did we first begin to develop this
[22:04] concept of a palace? Let's skip the
[22:07] distant past and start with the Qin
[22:09] Dynasty. During the Qin and Han periods
[22:12] , the Qin already had massive palace
[22:14] complexes, like the Efang Palace. How
[22:17] long was its main hall? It was 1,320
[22:19] meters long from east to west and 420
[22:22] meters wide. The area it covered was
[22:24] approximately 540,000 square meters.
[22:27] Its base, made of rammed earth, stands
[22:29] 12 meters high today. That height is
[22:32] equivalent to a four-story building,
[22:33] considering standard residential floors
[22:35] are about three meters each. It is
[22:39] recognized as the site of the largest
[22:40] palace in the world. However, because
[22:44] the main hall was so vast, it wasn't
[22:46] finished before the Qin Dynasty fell,
[22:48] making it perhaps the world's earliest
[22:50] and most famous "unfinished project."
[22:53] By the Han Dynasty, the palaces were
[22:55] naturally inspired by the Qin; they
[22:57] were grand, though perhaps not quite as
[23:00] massive, still retaining that sense of
[23:02] magnificence. The Weiyang Palace
[23:04] covered about 5 square kilometers.
[23:06] While its total area wasn't the largest
[23:08] , its structural remains are relatively
[23:10] complete since it wasn't left
[23:11] unfinished. Its main hall was about 350
[23:14] meters long from east to west and 200
[23:16] meters from north to south. Calculating
[23:18] that out, it covers an area of about
[23:20] 70,000 square meters. It can be said
[23:22] that it is the world's largest
[23:23] completed palace that we have
[23:25] historical records for. What about the
[23:26] Forbidden City? And the Hall of Supreme
[23:28] Harmony? We haven't found any extremely
[23:30] precise data yet. However, looking at
[23:32] the foundation, I estimate it to be
[23:34] about 10,000 square meters, which
[23:36] theoretically means the Han palace was
[23:38] seven times larger. Entering the Tang
[23:42] Dynasty, Chang'an had a relatively
[23:44] well-developed architectural layout,
[23:45] with residential and commercial areas
[23:47] separated. I feel the ancients had a
[23:52] different design philosophy than
[23:53] today's, as Chinese people have
[23:55] historically viewed commerce in a
[23:56] different light. Therefore, their
[24:00] planning strictly separated residential
[24:02] and commercial zones. Where people
[24:04] lived was for living, and commercial
[24:05] areas were for business. Thus, they had
[24:08] the East Market and West Market. It is
[24:11] said that our phrase for "buying things
[24:13] "(mai dongxi) comes from this. You can
[24:15] actually see it in the Ballad of Mulan:
[24:17] "In the East Market she bought a fine
[24:18] horse, in the West Market a saddle, in
[24:20] the South Market a bridle, and in the
[24:21] North Market a long whip." From a
[24:23] literary perspective, this is a
[24:24] rhetorical device called "
[24:26] cross-reference." It doesn’t mean I
[24:28] actually have to travel to four
[24:30] different places to buy all these
[24:31] things; it just means that commercial
[24:33] markets were established in all four
[24:35] directions. Viewed from this angle, at
[24:39] least from the Northern and Southern
[24:40] Dynasties through the Sui and Tang
[24:42] periods, our commercial areas and
[24:44] residential areas were separated.
[24:47] However, there is one point: our early
[24:49] architecture, compared to today's
[24:50] standards, doesn't have very good
[24:52] natural lighting. Why is that? It is
[24:54] quite simple: they didn't have glass,
[24:56] so the lighting wasn't very good. As
[24:57] for the Tang Dynasty buildings still
[24:59] existing today, there are only a few
[25:00] left in the whole country. Originally
[25:02] it was said there were four; whether
[25:03] any more have been discovered in the
[25:05] last two years, I am not entirely sure.
[25:07] For example, the Foguang Temple and
[25:08] Nanchan Temple in Shanxi are famous
[25:10] Tang buildings, both of which were
[25:12] discovered by Mr. Liang Sicheng during
[25:14] his field trips to Shanxi back then. If
[25:16] you look closely, the windows are very
[25:18] small and the walls are thick, so the
[25:20] lighting is definitely poor. After the
[25:22] Song Dynasty, Chinese architecture’s
[25:24] lighting improved significantly because
[25:26] of the "Yingzao Fashi." What is the "
[25:28] Yingzao Fashi"? It means that when you
[25:30] build a house, there is a standard
[25:32] manual you must follow to construct it.
[25:34] This "Yingzao Fashi" indeed had a
[25:36] massive impact on our building
[25:37] practices throughout the period
[25:39] following the Song Dynasty. It was
[25:41] during the Northern Song period that we
[25:43] began to see the invention of lattice
[25:45] doors and lattice windows. These
[25:47] effectively brought the external space
[25:49] into the interior of the building,
[25:51] expanding the visual effect and
[25:52] enhancing the sensory experience. What
[25:54] does it mean to bring in the external
[25:56] space? It means if you open these
[25:58] lattice doors fully, during the
[26:00] pleasant air of spring and autumn, the
[26:01] interior and exterior form a single
[26:03] scene. The outside space becomes part
[26:07] of the inside space, so through these
[26:09] lattice doors, you can enjoy the
[26:10] outdoors, including better ventilation
[26:12] and natural light. The experience back
[26:16] then was wonderful, but it didn't work
[26:18] in winter because of the severe cold,
[26:19] nor in summer when opening them would
[26:21] let in too much heat. Therefore, for at
[26:25] least half the year, the internal space
[26:27] and the external space are integrated
[26:29] as one; there is no clear boundary
[26:31] between them. These types of lattice
[26:35] doors actually allow you to open up the
[26:36] entire southern side of the building.
[26:39] If you have the chance to stroll
[26:41] through the gardens of Suzhou, pay
[26:42] attention to this, and you will
[26:44] understand the essence of this
[26:45] architecture. As for our Ming Dynasty
[26:49] architecture, in terms of volume, it
[26:51] was actually still influenced by
[26:52] Tang-style architecture; it is
[26:54] relatively tall, even when it comes to
[26:56] ordinary residential houses. For
[26:59] example, in my early years, I went to
[27:01] Suzhou to see those old houses, but
[27:03] many have been torn down now; it's such
[27:05] a pity, they're all gone. Those old
[27:06] houses had ceilings six meters high
[27:08] when you walked in, which is like the
[27:10] height of two floors, but it was just
[27:12] one single space, so it felt grand and
[27:14] spacious. You don't even need to ask
[27:16] about those buildings; they were mostly
[27:18] from the Ming Dynasty, or perhaps early
[27:20] Qing Dynasty. As time went on,
[27:22] buildings in the Qing Dynasty started
[27:24] to become shorter. Why were they
[27:26] shorter? It saved materials. After the
[27:29] population grew in the Qing Dynasty, in
[27:31] terms of area and per capita space, it
[27:33] was definitely shrinking. So, when they
[27:37] built houses, it led to them being
[27:39] built lower and lower, sometimes even
[27:40] adding an extra floor within the
[27:42] original space. Once an extra floor was
[27:46] added, the ceiling height of that level
[27:48] didn't feel as high anymore. We hope
[27:51] for higher ceilings in our homes today
[27:53] too. I remember houses built in the
[27:57] latter part of the last century were
[27:59] often quite low; ceiling heights were
[28:01] generally kept at 2.5 to 2.8 meters,
[28:03] which was considered high. I have even
[28:07] been in rooms that were 2.2 meters tall
[28:09] . How high is 2.2 meters? It’s like
[28:11] me reaching out and being able to touch
[28:13] the ceiling, which is very
[28:14] uncomfortable. Staying in a room like
[28:15] that for a long time feels very
[28:17] oppressive. Today, I think a
[28:19] comfortable living space should be at
[28:21] least 3 meters high; 3.5 meters is very
[28:23] comfortable, 3.2 is also quite nice, 3
[28:26] meters is acceptable, but anything
[28:28] below 3 meters feels relatively
[28:30] oppressive. Now, as we look at houses
[28:33] in the modern era, residential
[28:35] architecture underwent huge changes,
[28:37] primarily after the Republic of China
[28:39] period. First, Western architectural
[28:43] ideas were introduced, along with
[28:45] materials like cement and steel
[28:47] reinforcement. Once Western
[28:49] architectural ideas were introduced, "
[28:51] little Western-style buildings" started
[28:53] to appear, as everything at the time
[28:55] was influenced by Westerners. In the
[28:58] past, people placed great importance on
[29:00] the appearance of their houses; they
[29:02] had to look good from the outside,
[29:04] which led to the emergence of these "
[29:05] Western-style villas." Some were built
[29:09] by foreigners, while others were built
[29:11] by Chinese people themselves. You can
[29:14] find them in both the North and the
[29:16] South—in Beijing, Tianjin, and
[29:18] Shanghai. Each place has its own unique
[29:21] style. Some of the best-preserved
[29:25] examples in Beijing with a distinct
[29:27] Republican-era flavor include the Duan
[29:29] Qirui Government site near Dongsi and
[29:30] Dongsizhitiao, the former site of the
[29:32] Beijing Women's Normal College, as well
[29:34] as the residences of Sun Yat-sen and
[29:36] the former site of Furen University.
[29:40] These are all worth seeing. Back in the
[29:44] early 80s, when I was transferred to
[29:45] the China Youth Publishing House, it
[29:47] was located in an old prince’s
[29:49] mansion. On its east and west sides,
[29:52] there were these Republican-era
[29:54] Western-style villas, which was quite
[29:56] interesting. Upon entering the
[29:59] publishing house, you’d see
[30:01] three-story Republican villas alongside
[30:03] the grand Qing Dynasty mansion. It’s
[30:06] such a pity—later on, because the
[30:08] unit was short on office space and the
[30:10] usage rate of those buildings was low
[30:11] ...They first tore down the
[30:13] Western-style villas, and then they
[30:14] demolished the grand mansion. Back then
[30:16] , cultural relic protection wasn't as
[30:18] well-managed as it is today; if it were
[30:20] now, they absolutely wouldn't be
[30:21] allowed to tear them down. If you ever
[30:23] get the chance to visit Tianjin, you
[30:25] can see all sorts of Western-style
[30:26] villas along the Wudadao area. Those
[30:28] buildings are all standalone structures
[30:30] , and remarkably, they have all been
[30:32] preserved to this day. As for Shanghai,
[30:34] there are even more there. Shanghai, I
[30:37] find, is particularly fascinating.
[30:41] Shanghai itself has always had an
[30:43] affinity for these Western-style
[30:45] buildings; in fact, there are many
[30:47] massive ones there. For example, there
[30:50] is one that is very well-preserved
[30:51] called the Moller Villa. Its main
[30:53] building is a three-story
[30:55] Scandinavian-style structure with a
[30:57] Norwegian flair. Doesn't that sound
[30:58] interesting? Honestly, I’m not an
[31:00] expert, but it looks just like a castle
[31:02] out of a fairy tale. It was built for a
[31:05] British-Jewish tycoon named Moller,
[31:07] which is why it’s called the Moller
[31:09] Villa. He built it for his daughter.
[31:13] One morning, his daughter woke up and
[31:15] told her father, "I dreamed of a
[31:16] wonderful place." Her father then said,
[31:19] "Well, why don't you draw it for me?"
[31:22] And so, his daughter drew the house she
[31:23] had seen in her dream. I think she must
[31:25] have been a painting prodigy; otherwise
[31:27] , she wouldn't have been able to draw
[31:28] it. I’ve had plenty of dreams, but if
[31:30] you asked me to draw them, I definitely
[31:31] couldn't do it. The girl drew the
[31:33] castle from her dreams. Once finished,
[31:36] it served as the very first blueprint.
[31:39] Her father, deeply devoted to his
[31:41] daughter, spent ten years building the
[31:43] Moller Villa. Today, the Moller Villa
[31:46] is a restaurant and hotel. If you visit
[31:49] Shanghai, you must see it; even if you
[31:51] don't stay, have a meal there. With its
[31:54] front lawn and garden, the experience
[31:56] is truly breathtaking. Unfortunately,
[32:00] Moller never spent a single day in the
[32:02] finished house before being expelled
[32:04] from China. This cultural heritage
[32:08] stands as architecture from a specific
[32:10] period—the Republican era. Looking
[32:17] back at such buildings today, they
[32:18] carry a distinct cultural hue, one that
[32:20] is inseparable from the social
[32:22] environment of that time. Our
[32:27] architecture underwent another major
[32:28] shift after the founding of New China.
[32:32] With the war years behind us and the
[32:34] country at peace, the population grew
[32:36] exceptionally fast. This rapid
[32:39] population growth created a problem:
[32:40] the rate of housing construction
[32:42] couldn't keep up with the rate of
[32:43] population growth. How many people did
[32:45] we have when the country was just
[32:47] liberated? There were 450 million
[32:49] compatriots—that is, 450 million
[32:51] people. Not many years later, in 1958,
[32:53] Chairman Mao wrote a poem titled "
[32:55] Farewell to the God of Plague." It
[32:58] includes the line: "Spring winds willow
[33:00] branches ten thousand strong, six
[33:02] hundred million in this sacred land all
[33:04] become noble." Think about it: between
[33:06] 1949 and 1958, a mere ten years, the
[33:08] population increased by nearly 200
[33:10] million! By the 1970s, we had reached
[33:13] 900 million to a billion people; the
[33:15] population had doubled. Because the
[33:18] population grew so fast and New China's
[33:20] early construction focused mainly on
[33:22] production, investment in residential
[33:23] housing was insufficient. Consequently,
[33:28] by the 1980s, with over a billion
[33:30] people, the total residential area
[33:32] hadn't expanded much alongside the
[33:34] population, making things seem
[33:36] especially cramped. Fine courtyard
[33:40] houses, once meant for one family,
[33:42] became home to several, or even dozens
[33:44] of families. Just imagine, could such a
[33:47] courtyard remain in good condition? So,
[33:49] there were chaotic additions and many
[33:51] small rooms were built. Shanghai had a
[33:53] similar situation; their lanes, or*
[33:54] lilong*, were just like the*hutongs*.
[33:56] Their attics were converted into tiny
[33:58] rooms called "pigeon cages." What does
[34:00] "pigeon cage" mean? You couldn't even
[34:02] stand up straight inside. Years ago,
[34:03] when I went to Shanghai to buy antiques
[34:05] , I visited someone's home. I remember
[34:08] finding a fine sandalwood chair in an
[34:10] attic; once I climbed up there, I
[34:12] couldn't even straighten my back, I
[34:14] kept hitting my head. The fact that
[34:17] such national-treasure-level furniture
[34:19] was kept up there just shows how
[34:20] cramped their living conditions were
[34:22] back then. It was so tight that a whole
[34:26] family didn't even have the area of a
[34:28] single bed per person—less than two
[34:29] square meters each. Aside from sleeping
[34:33] , you had to do everything else outside
[34:35] ; that's why you often saw people
[34:36] cooking in the hallways. Having a
[34:39] shared kitchen was already considered
[34:41] very good; many people just cooked
[34:43] right on the roadside, eating at home
[34:45] but prepping food on the street,
[34:46] carrying their stoves out there. Back
[34:49] then, the public facilities were
[34:51] certainly better, like having public
[34:52] restrooms. Our public restrooms now are
[34:57] certainly better and less crowded, but
[34:59] there were also public bathhouses; most
[35:00] people went to these public bathhouses
[35:02] to bathe. Even today, despite all the
[35:09] houses built across the country—I
[35:11] don't have the exact statistics—there
[35:13] are still people living in very small
[35:15] spaces. Just early last year, there was
[35:20] news about six people in Shanghai
[35:21] squeezed into an eight-square-meter
[35:23] apartment. I found that terrifying; it
[35:26] couldn't be demolished or sold, because
[35:28] no matter how much you sold it for,
[35:30] they couldn't afford a new place to
[35:31] live. So, if you ask many of them, "
[35:34] When did you start living here?" They
[35:38] say, "I've lived here for nearly half a
[35:40] century." However, overall, our speed
[35:44] of housing construction has been very
[35:46] fast, and our individual living space
[35:48] has improved and increased
[35:50] significantly, which is why one public
[35:52] facility has almost disappeared: the
[35:54] public bathhouse. Every unit used to
[35:58] have one, especially the larger ones.
[36:01] When I was a child in the military,
[36:02] their bathhouse facilities were
[36:04] well-maintained. Later, in civilian
[36:06] life and at factories, there were
[36:08] always bathhouses. Sometimes bath
[36:10] tickets were issued, sometimes bought
[36:12] for five or ten cents, and you could go
[36:14] take a bath whenever you wanted. Back
[36:16] then, public bathhouses often had
[36:18] separate days; odd days for men and
[36:20] even days for women, though some larger
[36:22] facilities had separate areas for men
[36:24] and women all the time. When I was
[36:30] young, I’d often see young women
[36:32] leaving the bathhouse in the army
[36:33] compound, not at work, holding a basin
[36:35] with the "old trio" of essentials. What
[36:42] were they? Definitely a bar of soap, a
[36:45] towel, and a pair of slippers. That
[36:48] sight of them walking out, you just
[36:50] don't see that anymore today. I
[36:54] remember the first army bathhouse we
[36:55] had used wooden boards for the floor,
[36:57] about three centimeters thick. We had
[37:01] wooden sandals, just a piece of wood
[37:03] with a strap attached. They were
[37:06] incredibly clunky to walk in, making a
[37:08] clattering noise, and it was many years
[37:10] before the plastic slippers we use now
[37:12] became common. Beijing's public
[37:20] bathhouses...Since I was always
[37:21] affiliated with a work unit—first my
[37:23] parents ', then my own—I rarely went
[37:25] to public bathhouses on the street.
[37:29] Been there? Never? I have, went with
[37:31] some friends once. I remember clearly
[37:33] that a bath cost 26 cents, 26 cents for
[37:35] a ticket. If you wanted a scrub,
[37:37] you’d add 15 cents for that service.
[37:40] Nowadays, we don't call them bathhouses
[37:42] anymore; we call them "bathing centers.
[37:44] " These bathing centers have beautiful
[37:47] large pools, some with water jets, and
[37:49] even lion statues or other decorations.
[37:51] The water is crystal clear. Our
[37:54] childhood bathhouses weren't like that;
[37:56] the water was always murky. How murky?
[37:59] As murky as you can possibly imagine.
[38:01] It was like a pot of soup; if you put
[38:03] your hand ten centimeters under the
[38:05] water, you couldn't see it anymore. The
[38:07] water was incredibly dirty and never
[38:09] changed, just kept heated with steam,
[38:11] and the sight of everyone soaking in
[38:12] that filthy water was quite something.
[38:16] Once you got in, your body disappeared,
[38:18] leaving only your head visible. After
[38:21] soaking until soft, people would scrub
[38:23] each other's backs; very few paid for a
[38:25] professional scrub before rinsing off
[38:26] and leaving. Today, our living
[38:31] environment has improved significantly,
[38:34] mainly in two areas regarding hygiene.
[38:39] One is bathing, and the second is using
[38:41] the restroom; both can now be taken
[38:42] care of right at home. New houses today
[38:46] definitely all have these facilities.
[38:50] In the past, very few people had them,
[38:52] especially seated toilets. You know
[38:55] about seated toilets? I had one when I
[38:59] was a kid, so I grew up accustomed to
[39:01] sitting, not squatting. Can you squat?
[39:05] I can squat. Back then, I’d squat
[39:07] long enough to finish reading an entire
[39:09] newspaper, including all four pages. I
[39:11] practiced that later on, when I went to
[39:13] the countryside. There were no seated
[39:16] toilets in the countryside. The first
[39:20] time I had to squat to use the restroom
[39:22] there, I felt...I just worried I’d
[39:24] get it all over my pants. Thinking back
[39:28] , everyone had some good environmental
[39:29] training when they were young. What
[39:32] does that mean? It means being in an
[39:35] environment different from what you're
[39:36] used to—that’s the training. Public
[39:39] restrooms have only really improved in
[39:41] the last 20 years. Today, they're clean
[39:44] , and some even smell pleasant.
[39:46] Everyone has their own stall. When you
[39:48] go in to use the restroom—I'm talking
[39:49] about the men’s room, I don't know
[39:51] about the women's—it's better when
[39:53] urinating. When you need to defecate,
[39:55] you have individual stalls. Back in the
[39:57] day, those simply didn't exist. There
[39:59] was zero privacy. In the big public
[40:01] restrooms in Beijing, you’d walk in
[40:03] during the morning and see dozens of
[40:05] people all squatting in a row. There
[40:07] wasn't a single stall, and there was a
[40:09] line outside. These public toilets were
[40:11] just a big concrete trough with pits,
[40:13] square pits, on top. Right. Just think
[40:16] about it today—people, especially
[40:18] young people, wouldn't be able to use
[40:20] those toilets at all. They just
[40:23] couldn't accept it culturally. When I
[40:25] spent those years in the Northeast, the
[40:26] toilets I saw there were even more
[40:28] terrifying; they were built out of wood
[40:30] . There was a huge pit underneath, and
[40:32] it was all open—well, not from the
[40:34] top, but it was open at the bottom. You
[40:37] could see exactly what the person
[40:38] across from you was doing. So looking
[40:43] back, people of our generation, in a
[40:45] sense, had absolutely no privacy when
[40:47] it came to these matters. Thinking
[40:52] about it now, our lives have truly
[40:54] improved. Not only is our average
[40:57] living space much larger than when we
[40:59] were kids, but at the very least,
[41:00] things like bathing and personal care
[41:02] can be done at home. That’s what
[41:06] makes a home feel complete. After all,
[41:09] we spend at least half of our lives at
[41:11] home. So, the living experience will
[41:14] only continue to improve. Within your
[41:17] own means, that is, within the range of
[41:19] what you can afford, focus on
[41:20] satisfying yourself. Pleasing yourself
[41:23] —at home, the main goal is to please
[41:25] yourself. Over these years, our
[41:27] concepts of housing have undergone
[41:29] significant changes. In the past, homes
[41:32] were too small, so people naturally
[41:34] assumed that the bigger the house, the
[41:36] better. But how big is big enough?
[41:39] I’ve realized that a house really
[41:41] isn't always the better the bigger it
[41:43] is. I have a friend who built a house
[41:45] and invited everyone over. Even when
[41:48] dozens of people were there, the rooms
[41:50] still felt vast and empty. I told him,
[41:52] "Your house is too empty, it’s just
[41:54] so huge.""Can you really be comfortable
[41:56] living in a place like this?" He said,
[41:58] "Well, it’s already built, so I have
[41:59] to live in it whether I like it or not.
[42:01] " When I visited again a few years
[42:03] later, I discovered they weren't living
[42:04] in the main house anymore, but in the
[42:06] smaller guest house. I asked, "Why
[42:07] aren't you living over there?" He said
[42:09] it was too inconvenient in so many ways
[42:11] ; the main house was just too big. When
[42:13] there’s no one around, when it’s
[42:14] just one or two people at home, the
[42:16] house actually makes you feel afraid. I
[42:17] asked, "How is it inconvenient?" He
[42:19] said, "You have no idea. Once, I lost
[42:21] my phone and couldn't find it all day.
[42:23] I had to walk so far just to get to the
[42:25] restroom. The further I walked, the
[42:27] more terrifying it felt. Sometimes,
[42:29] things happen in the house—unexpected
[42:32] things—that are quite frightening."
[42:35] If you haven't had the experience of
[42:37] living in such a place, you don't know
[42:38] the horror of living in a house that
[42:40] big, nor the feeling of...It's an
[42:42] indescribable sadness; it doesn't feel
[42:44] like a home. Another friend of mine
[42:47] also has a large mansion, and he
[42:49] brought his 90-year-old mother to live
[42:50] there with a whole staff to wait on her
[42:52] . His mother grew up in the hutongs of
[42:56] southern Beijing. Those hutongs were
[42:59] crowded, and that’s where she was
[43:01] raised. She had formed close
[43:04] relationships with all the neighbors;
[43:05] she would greet and chat with everyone
[43:07] she saw. She said, although this big
[43:10] house is grand and she has plenty of
[43:11] people serving her, she has no one to
[43:13] talk to. The happiest part of her day
[43:16] is in the afternoon, when she circles
[43:17] the fish pond, taking bits of a steamed
[43:19] bun to feed the fish. How big is that
[43:23] house, exactly? It's big to the point
[43:25] of being intimidating. All the
[43:26] furniture, which used to be placed
[43:28] against the walls, has now been moved
[43:29] to the center of the rooms. It makes
[43:31] the house feel a bit tighter. Then,
[43:35] while he wasn't around, the old lady
[43:36] whispered to me, "Is this even a place
[43:38] for people to live? It’s just
[43:41] uncomfortable." Later on, his own
[43:43] master bedroom was super huge. I always
[43:45] say we all hope for a bigger bedroom
[43:47] for comfort, but let me tell you, a
[43:49] huge bedroom is the most uncomfortable
[43:51] thing. If your ceiling is a bit high,
[43:52] and your bedroom is over 100 or 200
[43:54] square meters, when you open your eyes
[43:56] at night, you feel like you're guarding
[43:58] a warehouse, you know? It’s very
[44:00] uncomfortable. Look, even Emperor
[44:03] Qianlong’s retreat—his study, the
[44:05] Sanxi Tang—was extremely small.
[44:09] I’ve seen his study, his bedroom, and
[44:11] his sleeping quarters. That room, the
[44:13] door frame was so low I almost hit my
[44:15] head. I wondered, why is the place
[44:17] where the Emperor lived so small? He
[44:19] didn’t want to live in a big place
[44:20] because it feels empty, makes you feel
[44:22] hollow inside, and you can't sleep
[44:24] soundly. Fortunately, the Chinese have
[44:25] canopy beds and carved beds; the canopy
[44:27] bed can be enclosed with curtains to
[44:29] create a small psychological space. If
[44:31] it’s completely wide open, you
[44:33] don’t need a big room; even 100
[44:35] square meters is enough to overwhelm
[44:37] you. If you have a 200-square-meter
[44:40] bedroom with high ceilings, you really
[44:42] can’t open your eyes at night. Open
[44:44] them. The United Nations has even
[44:49] condemned it, regarding these
[44:50] worst-ever living conditions in Hong
[44:52] Kong.
[44:52] 200,000 people are living in these
[44:55] subdivided units. It’s a violation;
[44:57] it hurts human dignity. Can you see
[45:00] that this is a Hong Kong subdivided
[45:01] unit?
[45:02] This is a rental unit.
[45:04] This is a rental unit. Keep looking
[45:06] down.
[45:07] This is called a "cage home."
[45:09] This is, they even made movies about it
[45:11] .
[45:12] A cage home, that's what it's called.
[45:15] Look further down, this is a unit, this
[45:17] is a type of unit.
[45:18] I’ve seen better ones than this, hmm.
[45:20] Keep looking down.
[45:21] This is
[45:22] This was the Kowloon Walled City.
[45:24] The Kowloon Walled City, the old
[45:25] Kowloon Walled City has been torn down
[45:26] now.
[45:27] Torn down, yes. Hey, the Kowloon Walled
[45:30] City is a scene you even see in video
[45:32] games.
[45:33] You know, this slum has now become a
[45:36] kind of artistic subject. Many Japanese
[45:40] games, including many movies you see
[45:42] now, use the old Kowloon Walled City in
[45:45] Hong Kong as a template. It’s just,
[45:48] wow, what kind of place was this? Back
[45:51] then, it was a place where even the
[45:53] British police, during the colonial era
[45:55] in Hong Kong, wouldn't go inside. Due
[45:57] to special historical reasons for this
[45:59] area,
[45:59] it was nominally under the Qing Dynasty
[46:01] .
[46:01] It was a non-jurisdictional zone.
[46:03] In name, the Qing Dynasty still managed
[46:05] it, but in reality, it was a lawless
[46:07] place with no oversight at all.
[46:08] Moreover, inside...
[46:10] The regulations there didn't follow any
[46:12] standard codes.
[46:13] People simply lived by Qing Dynasty
[46:15] laws.
[46:16] You know, many children, including even
[46:18] Stephen Chow, had that kind of life
[46:20] experience back then. In broad daylight
[46:23] , you'd have to keep the streetlights
[46:24] on; it was like perpetual night.
[46:26] With its dense, overlapping structures,
[46:29] and water dripping everywhere, it
[46:31] formed its own self-contained ecosystem
[46:33] . There were factories, doctors,
[46:35] products being made, prostitutes, small
[46:38] businesses, and, because they only had
[46:40] self-governance and mutual protection,
[46:42] there was even a criminal underworld
[46:44] inside. Oh, it was quite a place.
[46:47] You could even use drugs.
[46:48] It was really something.
[46:49] You could even watch strip shows.
[46:50] It’s been torn down now, right?
[46:52] Long gone. None of you have been, have
[46:54] you? It shouldn't have been completely
[46:55] demolished. We believed at the time
[46:57] that this area had cultural and even
[46:59] architectural value; many scholars
[47:01] later explored it and considered it the
[47:03] world's earliest example of
[47:04] post-modernism.
[47:05] You could have preserved it, maybe
[47:06] moved some people out.
[47:08] Just move the people, because that
[47:10] place was basically a natural
[47:11] playground. Let me tell you, don't even
[47:13] get me started on entering a building.
[47:15] First of all, the streets were filled
[47:17] with wires and water pipes
[47:18] crisscrossing everywhere, just rigged
[47:20] up randomly. Then you walk up the
[47:22] stairs—no elevators to the tenth
[47:24] floor—and suddenly there’s this
[47:26] little passage on the tenth floor that
[47:27] turns out to be a skybridge connecting
[47:29] to another building. You walk across,
[47:31] and it’s actually the thirteenth
[47:33] floor. How can this side be the tenth
[47:35] and that side the thirteenth? Because
[47:37] the buildings were of different heights
[47:39] , it looked just like a city from a 3D
[47:41] science fiction novel, interconnected
[47:42] and complex.
[47:43] Actually, others' suffering became a
[47:45] kind of aesthetic for some. I noticed
[47:47] that, because Professor Xu is a fanatic
[47:49] about crunching numbers, I didn't find
[47:51] it all that profound.
[47:53] The shrewdness of Shanghai-style
[47:55] culture is really embodied in you. It's
[47:58] special, and I truly find it quite
[48:00] interesting. People used to tell me
[48:03] that Shanghainese have a certain trait,
[48:05] and later I saw it in Professor Xu—
[48:07] that he's actually quite endearing, you
[48:09] know? After he’s carefully calculated
[48:12] everything, he feels proud. Unlike a
[48:15] nouveau riche from the North who loves
[48:17] to brag, "Guess how much this cost?"
[48:19] 100,000? Are you insulting my 1 million
[48:22] here? Hey, but look, Teacher Xu often
[48:25] chats with me, you know, this paint I
[48:27] use, it was originally several thousand
[48:30] , 5,000 yuan, look where I found it? I
[48:33] found it for 4,000 yuan. See, don't you
[48:36] think he feels he's being quite
[48:38] sensible?
[48:39] I just find this very interesting; he
[48:41] calculates things so precisely.
[48:45] Although you made up this detail—I've
[48:48] never seen the paint—it points to a
[48:50] very important, how should I say, sharp
[48:52] issue. It's indeed like that.
[48:57] Shanghainese people, and it's not just
[48:59] them, even many people abroad are the
[49:01] same; they take pride in the fact that
[49:03] "I bought a good product for this much
[49:06] money."
[49:11] And it's not just Northerners; some
[49:12] people in mainland China feel, I think
[49:14] the difference lies here, I think the
[49:16] former is an employee.
[49:20] Mm.
[49:23] If I were an employee or a manager, how
[49:25] would I show my work achievements? It's
[49:28] like, we had an investment of 10
[49:30] million, yet we accomplished this, this
[49:33] , and that. Right? The Northerner you
[49:36] mentioned, that kind of ostentatious
[49:38] type, that's a boss.
[49:40] For a boss, the most important thing
[49:41] isn't money, but showing you their
[49:43] status so you can't quite figure them
[49:45] out. I’m very cheap—no, bring the
[49:47] most expensive one, you know? That's a
[49:49] boss, a Shanghainese person. So Qiu Yu
[49:51] said, the Shanghainese are best at
[49:52] being employees; they don't have the
[49:54] mindset of a boss.
[49:55] But let me add one more thing.
[49:58] Eileen Chang once said something, her
[50:00] ideal. To be the most famous; I want to
[50:03] be even more famous than Lin Yutang. I
[50:07] want to wear the most stylish clothes,
[50:09] I want to have an apartment in Shanghai
[50:11] , but towards her later years, the
[50:13] Taiwanese media told her your aunt
[50:15] passed away, her best friend in life.
[50:18] They said, "Come back to Shanghai once,
[50:21] we will cover all expenses." It is said
[50:23] that Eileen Chang was silent on the
[50:25] phone for several minutes before saying
[50:27] , "There are too many places in this
[50:29] world I haven't been to; I won't go
[50:31] back to the places I've already been."
[50:33] Mm.
[50:35] She never had any property in Shanghai.
[50:37] Mm.
[50:38] So, writers always brag, but Teacher Xu
[50:40] , since you are so good at
[50:42] penny-pinching, I’m saying, I invite
[50:45] you to...
[50:45] How is this considered penny-pinching?
[50:47] No, you—can you calculate? I often
[50:50] ask Mr. Xu about things in my life. I
[50:52] find his calculations to be very sound;
[50:54] I feel that money is well spent. Like
[50:57] buying a car, nothing else really.
[50:59] Not a single bit is wasted, and
[51:00] everything is good. So, I’d like you
[51:02] to talk to young people today.
[51:04] But at the same time, I am wasteful
[51:06] myself. About buying a car.
[51:08] So I ask, do you intellectuals just
[51:10] talk? Giving others advice, just like
[51:12] we discussed the other day, regarding
[51:14] young people, especially those living
[51:16] in Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou,
[51:18] Shenzhen, or Hong Kong. You look at
[51:22] their current struggle: housing,
[51:24] renting is so expensive, they feel they
[51:26] can barely survive in these cities,
[51:28] their income is so limited, and owning
[51:30] a home feels so out of reach.
[51:35] If it were you, how would you choose?
[51:38] Should they grind and suffer? You know,
[51:42] there was a documentary in Hong Kong a
[51:44] while back—I told you about it—
[51:46] where this person wouldn't eat for two
[51:48] or three days.
[51:50] Uh-huh.
[51:51] Just drinking a bowl of soup.
[51:52] Uh-huh.
[51:54] It got to that point, but his pride was
[51:56] in saying that he saved his money.
[51:58] To afford a down payment. Someone
[52:00] raised this question at the time: is a
[52:02] house worth that price?
[52:04] It's a level that the UN would consider
[52:06] a violation of human dignity.
[52:09] Is it worth struggling like that to
[52:10] save up for a house, just for marriage
[52:12] or something else?
[52:14] Or should we embrace the "poetry and
[52:16] the distance" and just rent? Or just
[52:18] not aim for ownership at all? What do
[52:20] you think should be done?
[52:22] If you have the money, then buy it, but
[52:24] if it’s a struggle, you should rent.
[52:28] The main criterion here is that you
[52:30] must make your current life as good as
[52:32] possible. Otherwise, if you buy a house
[52:35] , you’re sacrificing your youth.
[52:37] Right.
[52:37] You're taking your twenties, which is
[52:39] the most priceless thing.
[52:40] Right.
[52:41] You’re distorting your entire
[52:43] lifestyle in your twenties, doing
[52:45] things you shouldn't be doing. The cost
[52:48] of that is much higher than a house!
[52:49] Absolutely not, I completely agree. I
[52:52] think the biggest problem in China
[52:54] today is that many young people
[52:56] sacrifice their quality of daily life.
[52:58] First of all, I am a Buddhist, and we
[53:00] believe that life is impermanent. You
[53:03] say I’ll grind for these five years,
[53:05] enduring hardship to save for a down
[53:06] payment, but I don’t know what I’ll
[53:08] be like in five years.
[53:10] I don’t know; it’s impermanent.
[53:11] What if—
[53:12] Regardless, if I have a house in five
[53:14] years, will I truly have peace of mind?
[53:16] You might not even live to see five
[53:17] years from now.
[53:18] And in those five years, you have a
[53:19] house.
[53:20] You lived those five years tired and in
[53:22] pain, and just as you're about to
[53:24] afford a home, you pass away.
[53:27] Besides, the rise in housing prices
[53:29] isn't permanent, especially if you're
[53:31] doing things you never wanted to do and
[53:33] kissing up to people you never wanted
[53:34] to just to get there; the price you pay
[53:36] is too high. Exactly, I think this is
[53:40] another big issue: young people,
[53:42] Chinese youth, are tied down by houses
[53:44] and then become too afraid to do
[53:46] anything at all.
[53:47] Too afraid to even dream. Let me ask
[53:49] you another question then: even if you
[53:50] can't buy, even if you are just renting
[53:52] , right?
[53:53] And you can't rent a place you're
[53:54] satisfied with, right? The space is
[53:56] cramped, and living there is very
[53:57] uncomfortable. But my job is in Beijing
[53:59] , Shanghai, or Guangzhou, and it's very
[54:01] important to me. If I return to my
[54:03] hometown, I might not be able to accept
[54:05] the level of development there, so what
[54:07] should I do?
[54:09] Right, I think it comes down to how
[54:11] much money you have and how old you are
[54:12] . Regarding the UN standard you just
[54:14] mentioned, it says that if you spend
[54:16] one-third of your income—whether
[54:18] renting or buying, like paying a
[54:19] mortgage—it's generally considered
[54:21] reasonable.
[54:22] If it exceeds one-third, you're forced
[54:23] to live on scraps, and that really is
[54:25] distorted. And there's more, I think
[54:27] there's also the issue of age. Honestly
[54:29] , like me, if I didn't have children
[54:30] right now, I could imagine going off to
[54:32] some distant place, moving whenever I
[54:34] want. I do think that sometimes you can
[54:36] rent in a location that you simply
[54:37] could never afford to buy in, right?
[54:39] It's a completely different life. But
[54:40] once you have children, it's basically
[54:42] not easy to move anymore, because
[54:44] moving is psychologically very damaging
[54:46] to a young child; they feel a sense of
[54:47] abandonment, it's true, it really is.
[54:49] Home is, for a child's psychology—
[54:51] I used to think children under two
[54:53] wouldn't have memories or understand
[54:54] friendships or familiarity, but that's
[54:56] completely wrong. I moved once, and it
[54:58] was deeply damaging to my daughter; she
[54:59] kept wanting to go back to the old
[55:01] place. It's been over a year since we
[55:02] moved, and she still talks about going
[55:04] back all the time. It caused so much
[55:06] harm; she’s even afraid to sleep
[55:08] alone now. And what I want to say is,
[55:10] if you can afford to spend a third of
[55:12] your income, or even if it exceeds that
[55:14] third, stop overthinking it while you
[55:16] don't have kids. Just enjoy yourself—
[55:19] rent, do whatever you want. Just rent,
[55:21] just move; I don't see a problem with
[55:22] that. It's about experiencing different
[55:24] lives.
[55:25] There's something else important about
[55:26] renting versus buying for your life.
[55:29] Like we talked about last time
[55:30] regarding marriage and making friends,
[55:32] in reality, when you buy a house, you
[55:35] have to consider many of its flaws. You
[55:38] have to look at every shortcoming,
[55:40] especially with a second-hand property
[55:42] —does it leak, does rain get in,
[55:44] what's the dispute situation like? You
[55:47] have to be very realistic. But when
[55:50] you're renting, you focus on the pros.
[55:52] You look at the nice view or the good
[55:54] decor. Sometimes in life, there are
[55:57] things you need to be reliable. You
[56:00] look at the worst-case scenario. Like
[56:04] Yang Jiang said, a rope is only as
[56:06] strong as its weakest point. Otherwise,
[56:09] if there's a weak link in that rope, I
[56:11] can't use it, right? That’s buying a
[56:13] house. Renting is really a more
[56:15] romantic, yet practical, attitude
[56:17] toward life.
[56:18] I completely agree. It's similar to my
[56:20] situation because I live quite
[56:22] differently. I spend most of the year
[56:24] staying in hotels. Staying in different
[56:26] hotels. Love hotels are fine too, but
[56:29] the point is, when you stay in a hotel
[56:31] —for example, if I check into a hotel
[56:33] today, I’m not going to worry about
[56:35] whether the building is sturdy.
[56:39] I won't check for leaks or worry about
[56:40] the local school district. You don't
[56:42] think about those things. What do I
[56:44] consider? Is the hotel comfortable? Is
[56:48] it nice? Is it modern? Is it convenient
[56:51] ? Those are the things I consider. So,
[56:56] if we view renting as a sort of
[56:57] long-term hotel stay,
[57:00] then your perspective changes entirely.
[57:03] So, this life—we aren't just passing
[57:05] travelers or temporary tenants, are we?
[57:07] And I think I’m the greediest; I want
[57:09] everything you've both mentioned. For
[57:11] example, hearing this—I’m the same
[57:14] as him. I once said, the world is my
[57:16] home. Tonight, wherever I stay, that
[57:18] hotel is my home. Even this hotel room
[57:21] is my home. I even bring incense to set
[57:23] it up. This is my home for tonight. In
[57:26] the long journey of life, it might be
[57:28] the last night here, right? And I'll
[57:30] never come back again, right? So I have
[57:32] this
[57:33] If I see something that's an eyesore,
[57:35] the whole night is ruined.
[57:36] Exactly, exactly. Tonight, no matter
[57:38] whose house I'm staying at, it's
[57:40] basically my home, or rather, it has to
[57:42] be.
[57:42] No matter whose bed it is, it's my bed
[57:44] too.
[57:44] Right, right, right. The bed is what
[57:46] matters. Yes, yes, I've even crashed on
[57:48] Mr. Xu's bed before, have you forgotten
[57:50] ?
[57:50] In Hong Kong.
[57:51] Yes, yes, yes.
[57:53] In Hong Kong, you measure space by how
[57:54] many sides of the bed you can get out
[57:56] of.
[57:56] Whether you can get out of the bed from
[57:58] three sides, two sides, or if you only
[57:59] have one side to determine how big your
[58:01] living space is.
[58:02] Three sides is a luxury, let me tell
[58:03] you.
[58:04] How about four sides? I think Hong
[58:06] Kongers have never really been
[58:08] liberated. In terms of living space,
[58:12] Hong Kongers are millionaires in a
[58:13] sense, but their homes still reek of
[58:15] poverty. Why is that? I've been to Hong
[58:19] Kong and seen those "luxury" apartments
[58:21] —top-tier mansions, thousands of
[58:22] square feet—but when you look at them
[58:24] , they're still meant for poor people.
[58:26] For a house of several thousand square
[58:27] feet, hundreds of square meters,
[58:29] couldn't you divide it into twenty
[58:30] rooms? Like you said, every room has a
[58:32] bathroom; they practically want a dozen
[58:34] bathrooms. They have bathrooms just so
[58:36] the family can cram into a tiny space.
[58:38] The abundance of bathrooms is just so
[58:40] more people can live together.
[58:41] I've compared it. Take London, for
[58:43] instance—that area that recently had
[58:45] that big fire, Kensington.
[58:47] The money for one apartment in Hong
[58:49] Kong could buy you a much larger place
[58:51] over there. But what I want to say is
[58:55] that the London fire actually
[58:57] highlights how, in cities with sky-high
[58:59] property prices worldwide, that
[59:01] building in the London fire...
[59:05] It was public housing. It was full of
[59:07] tenants.
[59:08] And yet, that’s one of London's most
[59:10] upscale residential areas, right?
[59:12] Exactly.
[59:14] The area is full of nice houses, but
[59:16] there’s just this one building—
[59:18] public housing—where people who
[59:20] couldn't make it elsewhere, including
[59:22] Syrian refugees, had to live. And
[59:24] because they lived there, they wouldn't
[59:26] even maintain the place properly just
[59:28] to save money. It ended up like that. I
[59:33] think the tragedy of renting only
[59:35] happens under these circumstances—
[59:37] when a city turns real estate into an
[59:39] investment vehicle. In cities like
[59:43] London, Hong Kong, or New York, renting
[59:45] becomes truly miserable.
[59:49] Exactly, I think with the way housing
[59:51] prices are rising and rents are getting
[59:53] more expensive, it's becoming harder to
[59:55] afford rent. By comparison, in cities
[59:59] like Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou,
[60:02] owning a home as a young person
[60:04] represents wealth that is simply
[60:06] unimaginable. Don't even talk about
[60:09] whether we should buy a house or not. I
[60:12] find it strange—look at many
[60:14] foreigners you mention, they all rent
[60:16] their homes. Even our friend Gao
[60:19] Xiaosong, with his talk of "poetry and
[60:21] faraway places," always tells me I live
[60:24] a miserable life just because I'm
[60:26] obsessed with buying a big house. Once
[60:29] you buy it, what then? "Poetry and
[60:31] faraway places." Well, that's Gao
[60:33] Xiaosong for you. As for me, I think
[60:35] I'm a typical Chinese person. Why are
[60:39] we always dreaming of owning a house?
[60:42] Even with my years of experience
[60:44] renting, my true feeling is: let me
[60:46] have a house first, then I can pursue
[60:48] my "faraway places." I feel that owning
[60:52] a house doesn't hinder my travels; my
[60:54] pursuit of "faraway places" isn't my
[60:57] everyday lifestyle 365 days a year
[60:59] anyway. After wandering around outside,
[61:01] don't Chinese people still feel a sense
[61:03] of "falling leaves returning to their
[61:05] roots"? Or maybe at my age, even if
[61:07] it's not quite time to "return to my
[61:09] roots," it just feels like I need a
[61:10] sense of security. The housing
[61:12] situation in China is very complex. On
[61:15] one hand, it completely adopted Hong
[61:17] Kong's model of land sales, driving up
[61:19] prices and following the game rules set
[61:22] by Hong Kong developers. But on the
[61:24] other hand...
[61:25] The proportion of people who own homes
[61:27] in China's big cities is far higher
[61:29] than in Hong Kong, and it might even be
[61:31] among the highest in the world.
[61:32] As long as you were originally a
[61:34] resident of the city—I've asked
[61:36] around in Xi'an and Shanghai—80%to 90
[61:38] %of people with local household
[61:40] registration have a house, for better
[61:43] or worse. Even the worst ones, like the
[61:45] teaching assistants at our university,
[61:47] were allocated small apartments back
[61:49] then. They come to me now and say, "My
[61:51] house is worth five million now." Even
[61:53] though it's actually quite small,
[61:55] psychologically they feel like
[61:57] they’ve become part of the
[61:58] multi-millionaire class. But the
[62:00] problem is, twenty years from now, it
[62:02] will look like the current situation:
[62:04] those of you who "got ashore" early
[62:06] stay ashore forever, while the young
[62:08] people who haven't "got on the bus" are
[62:10] always chasing the last one, afraid
[62:11] they'll miss it. However, looking back,
[62:14] I think sometimes you can try to be a
[62:16] bit more open-minded. For example, for
[62:18] example, I have a friend, a friend in
[62:20] Hong Kong, who bought a house. He said
[62:23] he used to be like me, thinking one
[62:25] shouldn't buy a house, that he wanted
[62:27] to see the world and the distant places
[62:29] ; that was his dream, that someday he
[62:31] would travel the world. But later he
[62:34] worked his whole life, saved up a sum
[62:36] of money, and bought a house. It’s
[62:38] quite nice, over 1,000 square feet,
[62:40] which is a luxury size in Hong Kong.
[62:42] Yeah, that's about 100 square meters. I
[62:45] asked him how much the house cost, and
[62:46] he gave me a number. I helped him
[62:48] calculate it, thinking about his plan
[62:50] for old age and the need for a place to
[62:52] stay, so I crunched the numbers for him
[62:54] .
[62:54] You could just keep renting forever.
[62:56] No. He could find—didn't he want to
[62:58] travel the world? There is this type of
[63:00] cruise ship. That kind of cruise is
[63:02] quite luxurious; the whole ship doesn't
[63:04] hold more than 500 people, mostly
[63:06] retired seniors, the wealthy, and so on
[63:08] .
[63:08] You just give them that sum of money
[63:10] now. The house he has now. If you sell
[63:15] this house and pay the cruise company
[63:17] upfront, you can live on the ship for
[63:19] 40 years, traveling the world the whole
[63:21] time.
[63:24] Oh.
[63:25] And medical care and everything else is
[63:26] included, and I told them about this.
[63:28] 40 years.
[63:29] A mobile nursing home.
[63:30] Is there a chance of hitting a
[63:32] Titanic-like iceberg in 40 years?
[63:34] Right, look, look, we are always so
[63:35] wary of things that are drifting and
[63:37] uncertain.
[63:37] You see, you guys still can't let go of
[63:39] the "distant places."
[63:41] Mathematically speaking, if you sell
[63:43] your nice house now, never mind the
[63:46] ship, you could rent excellent hotels
[63:48] all over the world, staying in such
[63:50] places.
[63:53] You could live your whole life just
[63:54] like that.
[63:55] But you probably couldn't—what about
[63:57] all your stuff? Why? You don't need
[63:59] that many things.
[64:00] Studying history, I’ve reached this
[64:02] conclusion.
[64:03] Nomadic peoples have already gone
[64:05] extinct.
[64:06] Of course, there are still a few
[64:08] individuals, but have you ever thought
[64:10] about why human nomadism...Why was
[64:11] nomadism good, but now no one is
[64:13] nomadic anymore? Why is the overall
[64:15] major trend leaning toward settling
[64:17] down?
[64:17] Regarding human settlement, from living
[64:19] in one house to staying in hotels
[64:21] around the world, I personally lean
[64:23] toward the latter.
[64:25] But the only issue is that a house just
[64:27] sits there; by the time 10 years have
[64:29] passed, you’re halfway through your
[64:30] journey. A 5-million-dollar house
[64:34] becomes 10 million, so the traveler's
[64:36] original funds are effectively halved,
[64:38] so this debate is a...
[64:40] You know our financial expert, Mr. Wu
[64:42] Xiaobo? I watched his speech the other
[64:44] day. He's so aggressive in his speeches
[64:47] now, coming out with some punchlines,
[64:48] like saying why you work so hard and
[64:50] still have nothing to show for it. Now
[64:53] it's the Chinese who are starting to
[64:54] gaze at white people. In the past, it
[64:56] was white people gazing at Orientals,
[64:59] right? Now we call them "white trash,"
[65:01] but there is indeed an observation that
[65:03] they stir-fry with less oil and grease.
[65:06] Yes.
[65:07] But if it’s all like this, then where
[65:09] is China? You have to tell us about the
[65:12] sauce.
[65:13] And I have to cite something you sorted
[65:16] out, this is CCTV data. It’s about
[65:19] their show*A Bite of China*; they have
[65:21] very precise viewership ratings for
[65:23] what audiences love most. How about you
[65:25] say it yourself, what is third?
[65:28] Third is oily foods,
[65:30] like foods such as braised pork belly.
[65:33] Second is staple foods.
[65:38] When people have time, they think more
[65:40] about problems, like how to view this
[65:42] stuff. Perhaps for someone like me who
[65:48] makes food content their daily life,
[65:54] for such a person, I can even sit at a
[65:56] table now and watch people eat without
[65:58] eating a single bite from start to
[65:59] finish. I can do that.
[66:02] Aren't you tempted?
[66:03] I was, but after repeated training, I'm
[66:06] not anymore. Oh.
[66:10] Um, just like you, when I have to
[66:12] record a show, my sense of
[66:13] responsibility tells me to produce it,
[66:15] but I won't reduce how often I eat,
[66:17] because eating isn't just meaningful to
[66:19] the individual; it has social
[66:21] significance.
[66:25] You eat with your family.
[66:26] You.
[66:27] Didn't you say you only eat one meal a
[66:29] day?
[66:29] Yes, I do. How else could you reduce it
[66:31] ?
[66:32] I can cut out a meal, but I can sit
[66:33] next to you during the second meal.
[66:38] Watching you eat, with a keeper's smile
[66:40] on my face—that's high-level stuff
[66:42] right there. You've talked a lot about
[66:47] the physiology, psychology, and
[66:48] aesthetics of eating.
[66:52] It reminds me of a passage in a novel I
[66:54] read.
[66:55] Mm.
[66:56] That*Green Tree*.
[66:58] Mm. *
[66:58] Green Tree*by Zhang Xianliang, the
[67:01] protagonist, helps a woman fix a table,
[67:03] and she takes a liking to him. As a
[67:07] result, she hands him a millstone; I
[67:09] can almost recite this part by heart.
[67:13] Mm.
[67:14] He said, "I've lived for twenty-some
[67:16] years.""I haven't touched this for
[67:18] eight years." This, what do you call it
[67:21] ? The surface of the stone.
[67:24] Mm.
[67:25] It's just the grinding part of the
[67:26] stone. And what follows is even better,
[67:30] he says it has her fingerprints on it,
[67:33] the spiral ones, not the loops.
[67:36] Mm.
[67:37] There are two types of fingerprints.
[67:43] Saying that Luo Bu is a chicken, my
[67:45] tears just fell, landing on that
[67:47] steamed bun, and the woman said one
[67:49] thing afterward: from now on, what I
[67:52] eat, you will eat.
[67:56] Mm.
[67:58] This is the Chinese version of the
[68:00] Titanic declaration, "You jump, I jump.
[68:02] ""
[68:05] What I eat, you will eat"—this is the
[68:07] most supreme declaration of love.
[68:09] Regarding such a detail, why do I think
[68:11] it's so good? I'm now thinking of what
[68:13] you mentioned about the biological,
[68:15] Mm.
[68:17] the psychological,
[68:19] the aesthetic, and the ethical,
[68:21] right? All these layers can be
[68:24] penetrated by a single plot point. So,
[68:27] Professor Xu, it's no wonder our
[68:29] birthdays are on the same day. I'm not
[68:31] kidding you; look, I originally
[68:33] prepared to read a short passage from
[68:35] his book on today's show, look, I even
[68:37] dog-eared the page. Let me tell you,
[68:40] Professor Chen, I read what you wrote
[68:42] in "Eating Until We Grow Old," and
[68:44] honestly, it reminded me of what Lu Xun
[68:46] said—that the whole thing is, after
[68:49] reading your book, I felt the whole
[68:51] text only contains two words: poverty.
[68:54] Yes, I feel that everything he writes
[68:56] is.
[68:57] Or just living in poverty. Look, listen
[69:00] , you can hear why I say he is a tough
[69:02] guy with a tender heart; there's this
[69:04] passage where he says his father
[69:06] especially loved a certain sesame
[69:08] flatbread. And that flatbread, he
[69:12] described it as being so delicious.
[69:16] Then, in 1960, on his way to visit a
[69:18] classmate across the city, his father
[69:20] went to another school to visit a
[69:22] friend, accompanied by a female
[69:24] classmate, a fellow student from the
[69:26] Dabie Mountains. Because this girl also
[69:31] had a classmate at that school, they
[69:33] traveled together. Between the two
[69:35] schools, the ten-plus miles of road
[69:37] were hard to cover on an empty stomach.
[69:41] On this journey, when they encountered
[69:43] that flatbread stall, his father
[69:45] hesitated for a long time, bought one
[69:47] flatbread, divided it into a large and
[69:49] a small piece, and handed the large one
[69:51] to the girl. After quickly finishing
[69:57] the smaller piece himself, he bit his
[69:59] lip, quietly watching the girl eat it
[70:01] bit by bit—as you know, this girl
[70:03] later became my mother. Reading this,
[70:08] tears almost fell from my eyes; you see
[70:10] , isn't it the same idea as what you
[70:12] were talking about?
[70:15] Even now, I still sympathize with his
[70:17] mother for being tricked by a small
[70:18] piece of flatbread.
[70:21] This story is actually about my son
[70:23] going to the United States.
[70:25] To study. Saying to him, my mother, his
[70:28] grandmother, was teaching him life
[70:30] lessons. Oh.
[70:34] Saying, when you look for a girlfriend
[70:36] in the future, don't look at anything
[70:38] else, just look for a kind heart; she
[70:41] must treat you well—this I finally
[70:43] fully understood.
[70:48] So Grandma wants your son's girlfriend
[70:50] to give him the bigger portion, the
[70:51] opposite.
[70:54] If you were a mother wishing your son
[70:56] well, you'd want to find a girlfriend
[70:57] who gives him the bigger share, right?
[71:00] Actually, this is memory. Every era
[71:03] probably has things like this, memories
[71:05] triggered by food. I went to eat
[71:09] noodles at noon today, and I had eaten
[71:11] these noodles before. Someone
[71:14] recommended this noodle shop to me,
[71:15] saying it was excellent. I went there
[71:17] to eat, and I thought the noodles were
[71:19] quite good, but if you call it
[71:21] Chongqing-style, it’s perhaps not "
[71:23] rough" enough—not simple and bold
[71:25] enough, a bit too mild. I asked, "Are
[71:27] you the one who makes these noodles?""
[71:29] Who did you learn from?" The male owner
[71:31] looked at me and said, "I don't know
[71:33] how to make them.""I just run the shop.
[71:36] ""And this...is she your wife?" I asked
[71:40] . "No, no," he replied, "we both have
[71:43] our own families.""She,""
[71:46] learned it from her grandmother." I
[71:48] said, "Oh, let me ask her." So I asked.
[71:50] I asked, "Is your grandmother from
[71:52] Chongqing?" She said, "No, she's from
[71:54] Guangyuan." I said, "Oh, no wonder this
[71:57] tasted like beef bone noodles, the kind
[71:59] from Guangyuan—where they take a cow
[72:01] leg, saw off a thick slice of meat with
[72:03] the bone in the middle. Those are so
[72:07] delicious!" I told them, "It's more
[72:09] like that." She said, "You actually
[72:11] know that? That's true, that's exactly
[72:14] what we eat there." So, today at noon,
[72:17] I ordered the beef bone noodles.
[72:19] I said, "This isn't the simplest thing.
[72:21] " Then I asked, "How did you guys...""
[72:25] ...you both have families, yet you're
[72:27] running a noodle shop here?" He said, "
[72:28] It's not like that.""It's like this."
[72:31] The two of them talked to me for over
[72:33] 40 minutes. About why they changed
[72:35] careers. He said, "I heard you've
[72:37] filmed documentaries about noodles
[72:39] before. You seem to work in film and
[72:41] television too.""I am a TV drama
[72:43] screenwriter.""
[72:46] Our company is failing; we just
[72:47] couldn't keep going.""
[72:50] And she worked in TV publicity. We
[72:53] started this small physical business to
[72:56] see if we could still make a living to
[72:58] support our families.""
[73:01] Most importantly, I feel like I don't
[73:03] fit into this era anymore." I listened.
[73:06] I asked, "Why?" He said, "Look, the
[73:08] screenwriting and dramatic theory I
[73:10] studied—this craft just isn't useful
[73:13] today.""I am a storyteller.""
[73:16] Yeah.""Yeah.""
[73:17] People today don't need stories anymore
[73:19] .""
[73:19] They need 'emotional value.' Do you
[73:21] know what emotional value is?" Then he
[73:23] explained this "emotional value" to me.
[73:26] Then they talked about KPIs, ROCs, and
[73:28] this kind of modern way. Industry. The
[73:35] demands of the TV industry on a creator
[73:37] ; he feels that nowadays, you just find
[73:39] a pretty kid to sit there and chat
[73:41] casually, and people will watch it just
[73:43] like they watch a drama. The edifice
[73:49] that once built his dreams of drama is
[73:52] gone; in reality, everyone is just
[73:53] running wild in the wilderness. Oh my,
[73:59] is this really just a meal?
[74:04] I think the reason we go out to eat is
[74:06] so you can see a world you wouldn't
[74:07] normally encounter. You meet different
[74:15] people; just like I wrote in my book,
[74:17] at a skewer place I like—because of
[74:19] the lines, I like to go early—I heard
[74:20] workers there picking chili peppers,
[74:22] and they said, "Do you know what the
[74:24] best-tasting thing in the world is?"
[74:29] You say you don't know, and a man says
[74:31] "Moutai liquor." Right, they all say
[74:34] Moutai is the best, then you ask that
[74:36] man, "Have you ever had Moutai?"
[74:39] He said, "I've had the leftovers from
[74:41] guests." Thinking. He said, "I suggest
[74:44] not drinking too much Moutai; for
[74:46] example, it's something meant to be
[74:48] enjoyed at home, but you drank Moutai."
[74:51] Then you get drunk and talk to others.
[74:55] Oh my, look at that afternoon sun
[74:56] before it set, with a few people
[74:58] picking chili peppers. Oh, it feels
[75:02] like this is a scene you couldn't buy
[75:04] with any amount of money.
[75:07] Two people say Moutai is best, four
[75:09] people, four people say Moutai is best.
[75:13] Actually, they have nothing to do with
[75:15] Moutai, yet they are talking about it;
[75:17] you realize, wow, it really is that
[75:19] food is the best way to look at the
[75:20] world.
[75:23] Regarding this appreciation for food, I
[75:25] shed tears the first time I ate
[75:27] something. I’m not just trying to
[75:30] lead into what I’m talking about
[75:31] today, but really, truly, it was the
[75:33] first time. I’ve eaten at many
[75:37] Michelin restaurants in Hong Kong, and
[75:39] when I travel, I try to collect stars
[75:40] —that’s how we put it—we think
[75:42] it’s delicious and pretty, but it
[75:44] doesn't move you. Then they mentioned
[75:48] this Noma, the Danish restaurant, said
[75:49] to be number one. Teacher, which season
[75:52] did you go to eat at?
[75:53] I haven't been, sorry, I haven't eaten
[75:55] there, regardless of which one.
[75:57] Because it's closing, right? Well.
[76:00] It's closing this year, so for us,
[76:01] booking it is like winning the lottery;
[76:04] you have to keep refreshing, just like
[76:06] refreshing for concert tickets. He's
[76:07] very lucky, we all just watched it on
[76:10] TV.
[76:10] So I was refreshing the page, I managed
[76:12] to snag a reservation for four, and he
[76:14] said let's go, but I asked who would
[76:15] watch the kids? I even told him I
[76:17] wouldn't go, but he insisted we
[76:18] couldn't miss it because they were
[76:20] closing down, so we had to go. I’ll
[76:22] be honest, I think it’s about the
[76:24] story; maybe the reason I shed tears at
[76:26] that final bite was because of the
[76:27] whole journey. Think about how hard we
[76:30] worked for this. I spent two months
[76:32] looking for a nanny, searched in
[76:34] Finland, and even offered to pay a
[76:36] fortune for someone to fly to Denmark
[76:37] to watch my kids for four hours so I
[76:39] could eat there. There were no nannies
[76:41] available for those four hours just for
[76:43] that meal.
[76:44] Then, Noma told me that many guests say
[76:46] the same thing, and they actually have
[76:48] a nanny referral site.
[76:50] They give recommendations, and in the
[76:52] end, do you know what I did? I flew my
[76:55] parents-in-law in from Taiwan. Since we
[76:57] had four spots, we asked Noma if we
[76:59] could split it: two people for dinner
[77:01] and two for lunch. We took turns
[77:04] watching the kids so we could both eat
[77:06] there. Noma was great about it and said
[77:09] , "Sure, let's do that." First off, for
[77:12] a restaurant ranked number one in the
[77:13] world, they never made me feel any
[77:15] pressure, from our initial
[77:16] communication to the moment we arrived.
[77:19] I truly believe a genuinely confident,
[77:21] world-class restaurant is always the
[77:23] most humble; they never rank or
[77:25] categorize their guests. I felt zero
[77:29] pressure there, no need to worry about
[77:31] dressing up or acting all sophisticated
[77:33] ; they just welcomed us. I think that
[77:36] matters, because I have to tell you, we
[77:38] were the first ones to walk through
[77:39] that main gate, the one with the
[77:41] reindeer antlers. They applauded warmly
[77:44] to welcome us—not us applauding them,
[77:46] they just started cheering as soon as
[77:47] we walked in.
[77:48] It would be absurd if you applauded
[77:50] them, why would you applaud when just
[77:52] walking in?
[77:53] You're supposed to do that at the end
[77:54] if they did a good job.
[77:55] You should only cry after you’ve
[77:56] finished eating.
[77:57] Exactly, you can’t walk in crying;
[77:59] people would think you’re there to
[78:01] inspect the place or something. Anyway,
[78:04] the atmosphere was very relaxed, and
[78:06] when I finally ate, the whole process
[78:08] just made me quite emotional. The first
[78:11] dish was just chicken. Their signature
[78:14] way of serving is to have you eat it as
[78:16] is, then add a sauce and eat it again,
[78:18] then maybe add something else,
[78:20] repeating it like three times. But
[78:23] That just amounts to eating different
[78:25] sauces.
[78:25] No, not quite. You first taste the
[78:27] original flavor, then maybe add a sauce
[78:29] , or perhaps add another ingredient.
[78:31] He’s offering you a suggestion, not
[78:33] making a demand.
[78:34] Let me see the photos, let me see how
[78:37] delicious it really is. I’ve never
[78:41] heard of it, but in this entire niche
[78:43] culinary field, he is doing something
[78:45] truly, truly......
[78:48] amazing, yes, and you...
[78:50] That chef has a laboratory, and this is
[78:52] the chicken I just mentioned. Look,
[78:54] doesn't it look quite simple? I’m
[78:56] Chinese, so when you look at it, you
[78:58] think it’s very simple, right? But
[78:59] when I actually tasted it, you know
[79:01] what I thought of? I’m not saying it
[79:03] tastes the same, but I thought of Hong
[79:04] Kong, I thought of my favorite soy
[79:06] sauce chicken rice. I felt like it had
[79:07] been so long since I’d had such
[79:09] delicious, fatty chicken.
[79:10] It really stirs up so many emotions.
[79:12] This must be a dry-aged chicken. Yes,
[79:14] and I find it quite interesting. Maybe
[79:17] because I’m Asian, but all the
[79:19] foreigners next to us, the first course
[79:21] of chicken they were served included
[79:22] the whole bird, even the chicken head
[79:24] ......
[79:26] was placed right in front of them to
[79:27] look at while they ate. We thought,
[79:29] foreigners usually hate seeing things
[79:31] like eyes or fish eyes. One of their
[79:33] courses was a seafood-based one, though
[79:35] I didn't have that; I had the
[79:37] game-based one. The red layer you see
[79:39] here, that is...
[79:41] Kombucha, do you know it? It’s
[79:44] fermented tea.
[79:45] Kombucha.
[79:46] Kombucha.
[79:47] It’s terrifying.
[79:48] Then he took the kombucha...
[79:51] Yes, he took the SCOBY from the
[79:52] kombucha, scraped it off, and served it
[79:54] for you to eat.
[79:56] At a certain level, you’re just
[79:58] eating stories.
[79:58] Yes.
[79:59] Well, not just stories, not entirely
[80:01] stories. I’ve generally had similar
[80:04] types of food, but in reality, it
[80:05] offers a completely different taste
[80:07] experience. The key point is that once
[80:11] you enter the professional world of
[80:13] fine dining, you might need to
[80:14] rediscover the world. For example, the
[80:18] aging I mentioned—we used to define "
[80:20] cooked" as something that had been
[80:22] roasted, boiled, or stir-fried over a
[80:24] fire, right?
[80:25] Actually, that’s not necessarily true
[80:27] ; its most significant characteristic
[80:29] is fermentation. Yes.
[80:31] Fermentation is the second greatest
[80:33] discovery for humans after the
[80:34] discovery of fire. Before we climbed
[80:38] down from the trees, we couldn't digest
[80:40] these things. So how do we define raw
[80:43] and cooked? This restaurant has given
[80:46] us a new answer; it’s boundless.
[80:49] It's closed now.
[80:50] About to close, it's just raw muscle.
[80:52] It's just natural fermentation. No, not
[80:55] natural fermentation. This aging
[80:57] process is actually quite unique.
[81:00] It’s extremely complex. Take ham, for
[81:02] instance—Spanish ham. When we were
[81:04] filming and asked about fermentation,
[81:06] they said, "No, we don't call it
[81:08] fermentation, we call it aging."
[81:10] Right.
[81:12] Because once it's aged, you can eat it
[81:14] raw. Mm.
[81:20] My expertise isn't quite enough to
[81:22] cover this, but there certainly is a
[81:24] vast array of foods we can get through
[81:25] fermentation that our bodies can absorb
[81:27] without any harm.
[81:33] Yes, it’s a type that—this
[81:34] restaurant doesn't even use vinegar.
[81:37] Right, they use ants for everything.
[81:39] Yes.
[81:40] They use formic acid, using nature's
[81:42] acid.
[81:42] Mm.
[81:44] Using ants.
[81:45] So you think you're eating nothing, but
[81:47] you're actually eating acid.
[81:48] Oh my god.
[81:49] But it's just a little bit, and then
[81:51] you...
[81:51] Haven't eaten it yet, so...
[81:53] No, no, the point is that at first I
[81:54] would feel it too, and then I’d frown
[81:56] , right?
[81:57] I had two opportunities, but I felt the
[81:59] journey was too far; I’m a rather
[82:00] lazy person. But I told myself, just
[82:02] like my son eating strawberries, you
[82:04] have to let go of your preconceptions.
[82:06] And you must—this chef respects every
[82:08] single thing. When all the sauces come
[82:10] together, you think, "I really..." The
[82:12] "delicious" I’m talking about now
[82:14] means it never makes you feel like
[82:16] everything has blended into one; it’s
[82:18] distinctly three flavors.
[82:19] Your mouth—
[82:20] When you drink, don't you savor the
[82:22] notes? You talk about the front, middle
[82:24] , and finish. Yes, that’s to say
[82:26] I’ve shifted from spatial layers to
[82:28] temporal layers. Eh.
[82:30] Oh my.
[82:31] What does it mean to chew and chew
[82:33] until you get a sweetness, and then
[82:35] slowly it...
[82:38] It makes your mouth contract first, and
[82:40] when it opens up, all the fluids you
[82:42] secrete are sweet.
[82:45] Drinking tea is very high-end, right?
[82:47] Yes, you have to eat while drinking tea
[82:49] ; that's really what it means. And the
[82:52] fact that even a layman like me can
[82:53] understand it, I think that’s the
[82:55] most impressive part. It means you
[82:57] don’t have to be a food expert; I
[82:59] just sit there and follow along. I just
[83:01] want to eat seriously and not keep
[83:03] chatting. I just eat slowly and enjoy
[83:04] the moment, and I think, "My god, there
[83:06] are several independent souls in my
[83:08] mouth, yet they coordinate so early and
[83:10] so well, without overshadowing each
[83:12] other." It’s like they’re saying, "
[83:14] We’re all great." But I don't mean
[83:16] that just because I'm here saying these
[83:17] things, I want to overshadow anyone;
[83:19] that's not it. It's that we can all do
[83:21] well together, and then communicate and
[83:23] create something new. I feel like
[83:25] Teacher Xiaoqing has a successor, a
[83:27] beautiful successor! Wow, six or seven
[83:30] souls, the author must be stunned by
[83:32] this description.
[83:34] He shifted the problem from space to
[83:35] time. Space is just that the place is
[83:39] very far, we can't go there, and we
[83:41] can't experience it, right? Shifted to
[83:43] what kind of time? We were just talking
[83:45] about the problem of not having enough
[83:47] to eat.
[83:47] Right. He skipped over the hunger issue
[83:50] and moved into not knowing what to eat.
[83:53] That's right, you know, because it's
[83:55] actually Maslow's hierarchy of needs.
[84:00] Many things we discuss are related to
[84:02] basic survival, our class identity, and
[84:04] our sense of security. What he's
[84:09] talking about is not on the same level
[84:11] as the food we usually discuss; it's
[84:13] aesthetic. Exactly, it's culinary arts.
[84:18] From that topic, he suddenly jumped to
[84:20] this. You know, when I heard his
[84:22] description, I thought, "Is this a
[84:24] crime?" Back in the day, our parents
[84:26] would share a single flatbread, and
[84:28] these people are making this now. But
[84:31] that was back then; he is talking about
[84:32] the present. And someone described it
[84:36] that way, just like that, about the
[84:38] souls and bodies. Someone said that
[84:42] when it's so good that he's finished
[84:44] eating and we have nothing left, we
[84:45] should ask him to open his mouth and
[84:47] breathe out those souls.
[84:50] Ah, just by smelling them, we'd feel
[84:52] it's delicious.
[84:53] Coming out of the seven orifices. If we
[84:55] lean in and smell it, I hope those
[84:57] seven souls are fine; just don't end up
[84:59] eating seven bodies.
[85:01] But I think he taught me another
[85:02] perspective on food. After I came out,
[85:05] I truly started to...because their
[85:07] chefs have a laboratory.
[85:09] Right.
[85:09] And I think...
[85:10] Like, like a religion. Yeah, right.
[85:13] Even the waiter—he arranged for a
[85:15] waiter from Taiwan for me. First, I
[85:18] felt that this place gathers people
[85:19] from all over, like...
[85:21] There are people from all over the
[85:22] world.
[85:23] Koreans, Chinese, they have everyone.
[85:25] Right, and they use a language you're
[85:26] familiar with to explain it to you. And
[85:28] then, he pointed to that small house
[85:30] and said, "Do you see that small house
[85:31] with the faint light?" I said, "I see
[85:33] it." He said, "Do you see that person?"
[85:35] It must be our chef, and I thought, "
[85:37] Wow," it's like a laboratory in there.
[85:41] He requires everything to be started as
[85:43] much as possible from scratch,
[85:44] especially things like plants and herbs
[85:46] —he insists on growing them from
[85:48] nothing because he believes that's the
[85:50] only way to know how to use them and
[85:52] truly respect the process. Then why
[85:55] would he close it? Because this process
[85:57] is too exhausting. To tend to them well
[86:00] and grow them to be fresh and delicious
[86:02] enough for you to taste their intended
[86:04] flavor is a massive undertaking. And
[86:07] his wine selection—I thought his wine
[86:09] would be something extraordinary, like,
[86:10] "Wow." But then I asked about the wine,
[86:13] and he said our wine comes from
[86:14] whenever any staff member interested in
[86:16] wine attends a meeting; you just throw
[86:18] out where you're going in Europe to
[86:19] drink, and they'll even give the staff
[86:21] time off.
[86:22] Hm.
[86:23] Go drink, do your gourmet exploration;
[86:25] you don't need to eat at high-end
[86:27] places. Then come back and tell me what
[86:29] wine you drank, and you, and you—
[86:31] bring them all back so we can taste
[86:33] them together. That’s when I felt
[86:36] this chef didn't have the rigid
[86:38] standards I expected, but he deeply
[86:39] respected everyone's position, you know
[86:41] ? That’s why he was able to create
[86:43] something I felt was so unique. Can
[86:46] online livestreams even compete with
[86:48] him? Even I, who knows nothing about it
[86:52] , was moved by him.
[86:54] My question is, why couldn't it stay
[86:56] open?
[86:57] It’s simply because it wasn't making
[86:58] money.
[86:59] Not profitable; he says his fine dining
[87:01] —that is, high-end gastronomy—is...
[87:04] Fine dining.
[87:05] Fine dining isn't eco-friendly.
[87:07] Hm.
[87:08] Because if you think about it, you only
[87:10] eat a few seeds off a strawberry, so
[87:12] what do you do with the rest? You just
[87:15] have to throw it away, or if you want
[87:17] to reuse it, it's too difficult. So you
[87:19] essentially waste more ingredients than
[87:21] you actually consume. Right, as you
[87:25] just mentioned, if this thing becomes a
[87:27] religion—actually, the so-called
[87:29] health-conscious meals of today, some
[87:31] white people trace it all the way back
[87:33] to that hippie movement in the 1960s.
[87:38] Yes, actually, this was a type of food
[87:40] promoted by the hippies at the time. It
[87:44] seems to have started in the American
[87:46] West, where there was a person, maybe a
[87:48] teacher or something, who learned some
[87:50] yoga and spirituality. He promoted the
[87:54] idea that eating meat is a sin, and
[87:56] advocated for plant-based, raw, and
[87:58] grain-based diets. Back then, people
[88:02] like the Beatles were all into it,
[88:04] which eventually turned into this
[88:06] plant-based dietary culture. So, I’m
[88:09] talking about the data from CCTV’s
[88:11] survey today. Do you think humanity
[88:14] will change in the future? It will
[88:17] become more and more about raw
[88:19] ingredients, and I really feel that if
[88:21] you take China, for example, what would
[88:23] it be like without sauces? What will
[88:26] our future food look like?
[88:28] This itself is a more advanced way of
[88:30] consuming food. Originally, we were all
[88:34] living like primitive people.
[88:37] Making sauces into soups is an
[88:38] advancement, right? From the beginning
[88:42] of making meat sauces until now, it has
[88:43] been a progress. As for why industrial
[88:47] sauces or jarred sauces are more common
[88:49] now, it's actually because they are
[88:51] easier to standardize. Hmm.
[88:56] Moreover, it maintains health, contains
[88:58] rich flavors, and is especially
[89:00] suitable for people today who don't
[89:02] want to cook—what I call a "
[89:04] post-seasoning system."
[89:08] Oh.
[89:09] It means when something arrives, I use
[89:11] it as a "post-seasoning system." You
[89:15] see, in our most primitive food systems
[89:17] , the most underdeveloped regions all
[89:19] have this. For example, in Yunnan, they
[89:26] have various plant-based fruits mashed
[89:28] together, like tree tomatoes and chili
[89:30] peppers mixed in. Then it becomes a dip
[89:35] ; we can just take some rice and eat it
[89:37] with that. It’s delicious, no
[89:40] problems at all. Cooking a piece of
[89:42] chicken and putting it in is also very
[89:44] tasty. If it lacks a sour kick, just
[89:46] grab some ants from a tree. The Jino
[89:48] people eat ants. We once filmed a great
[89:50] segment on this because the UN Food and
[89:52] Agriculture Organization is calling on
[89:54] everyone to eat more insects.
[89:57] Right, eat more ants.
[89:59] Yes, it is...
[90:03] From the perspective of gas emissions,
[90:05] it is the safest way to be low-carbon
[90:07] and nutritious; it is particularly rich
[90:09] in protein.
[90:12] And furthermore...
[90:14] The small golden ants, the transparent
[90:16] ones—the taste is amazing. I stood by
[90:19] the tree and ate them for over half an
[90:21] hour, but our show is only half an hour
[90:23] .
[90:24] I just wiped out a nest a few days ago.
[90:27] Golden ants, golden ants, but actually,
[90:29] the types of ants are still quite...
[90:30] Eating them one by one.
[90:32] Eating them one by one.
[90:33] Oh.
[90:34] Can't see that thing. I thought this
[90:37] was over, but to my surprise, when I
[90:39] went there...
[90:41] It was completely new.
[90:44] A really delicious kind of flavor. The
[90:49] scent and texture are entirely
[90:51] different, so he gave it the name "
[90:52] non-linear memory."
[90:54] I just drank some the other day; oh, it
[90:56] was truly wonderful.
[90:58] Oh my, oh my, just listening to it
[91:00] makes my mouth water. Is Chinese
[91:04] culture particularly good at blending
[91:06] things?
[91:08] What do you mean?
[91:09] What do you mean?
[91:10] Or rather,
[91:11] changing its nature. Like kiln-fired
[91:15] porcelain—that mysterious
[91:16] transformation where you never know
[91:18] what it will become. Take papermaking,
[91:21] which we’ve filmed; it starts as
[91:23] bamboo. Look at how the Chinese
[91:28] invented papermaking—they process it
[91:30] until its physical properties change
[91:31] into something else entirely; you can't
[91:33] even tell it’s related to bamboo. I
[91:38] think in terms of food...
[91:40] This is where our wisdom lies. Because
[91:44] regarding the Four Great Inventions, I
[91:46] think tofu should be included. The
[91:51] Chinese history of eating beans is very
[91:53] long, but we’ve never been able to
[91:55] fully absorb their nutrients.
[91:59] It’s quite illogical. The last
[92:02] sentence of his final article,
[92:04] just before he was to be beheaded,
[92:06] he wrote an article, and the last
[92:08] sentence was, "Chinese tofu is the most
[92:10] delicious thing in the world."
[92:11] And then, Jin Shengtan's last words
[92:13] were also about how tofu and peanuts
[92:15] eaten together taste like ham. Yes,
[92:17] right before his execution.
[92:20] Tofu is truly magnificent; it
[92:22] eliminates the anti-nutritional
[92:24] substances in soybeans that prevent us
[92:26] from absorbing them.
[92:29] Oh.
[92:30] We spent over 1,000, 2,000, even 3,000
[92:32] years eating beans without fully
[92:34] understanding them, until the Han
[92:36] Dynasty when, while refining alchemy,
[92:39] we accidentally...discovered the method
[92:41] for making tofu. Another thousand years
[92:44] passed until the Song Dynasty. It
[92:47] finally became a staple on our tables;
[92:49] it had become a different substance. It
[92:52] was no longer just a bean; it was tofu.
[92:55] I might have to recommend a new book
[92:57] called "Jun Xing Shi."
[92:59] Hmm. "
[93:01] Jun Xing Shi" is...
[93:04] It's what was inscribed on the bottom
[93:06] of the bowls in the Mawangdui Han tomb,
[93:08] meaning "Thank you for coming, please
[93:10] help yourself.""
[93:13] Jun" as in gentleman, "Xing" as in
[93:15] favor. It’s about eating.
[93:18] The book provides extensive evidence
[93:20] that many current Western cooking
[93:22] methods, including French cuisine,
[93:23] existed in ancient China. Even
[93:26] molecular gastronomy—stuffed tofu is
[93:28] essentially molecular gastronomy.
[93:30] Why is that?
[93:33] He deep-fries a whole block of tofu,
[93:35] then adds a kind of alkaline acidic
[93:37] liquid to it. The inside of the tofu is
[93:42] hollowed out. It becomes a pouch; it
[93:46] still looks like tofu from the outside,
[93:48] but it’s all liquid inside. It’s no
[93:52] longer tofu, and there are many
[93:53] examples like this. Why do the Chinese
[93:56] call it "caiyao"(dishes)? If you look
[94:00] at the hexagrams in the I Ching, it’s
[94:01] a process of complete transformation.
[94:05] Oh.
[94:06] The ingredient is the starting point,
[94:08] and the dish is the destination.
[94:12] And the chef is the ferryman crossing
[94:14] that river.
[94:17] Wow, that is well put. That’s why the
[94:20] Chinese like to use the term "entering
[94:22] the realm of transformation."
[94:23] Reaching a divine state of
[94:25] transformation. We seem to be quite
[94:26] skilled at taking one thing and
[94:28] transforming it into another. It’s
[94:30] not theoretical science, but
[94:31] experimental science, like this with
[94:33] tofu. Even articles and films about
[94:37] Noma mention that it has an Eastern
[94:38] sensibility, which is why Noma later
[94:40] created pop-up restaurants.
[94:43] He went to Japan and stayed for a long
[94:45] time.
[94:45] He did it twice, for six months each
[94:47] time.
[94:48] Right.
[94:49] But when you talk about things like
[94:51] pan-frying, stir-frying, and
[94:52] deep-frying today...
[94:56] As you mentioned, there’s been a lot
[94:58] of discussion recently about pre-made
[95:00] meals, and someone told me that
[95:01] wherever you eat now, most of what
[95:03] you're served is pre-made.
[95:07] It's all the same.
[95:08] Is that so?
[95:10] That’s determined by the commercial
[95:12] nature of the restaurant industry, but
[95:13] my view on pre-made meals is different
[95:15] from yours; it’s not something to be
[95:17] feared. Wait, please define them first,
[95:21] as I’ve only heard about this issue.
[95:24] We categorize pre-made meals into three
[95:26] types.
[95:28] One is "easy to eat," meaning you eat
[95:30] it directly. One is "easy to heat,"
[95:34] meaning you just heat it up.
[95:37] And the third is "easy to cook."
[95:40] If you really reject pre-made meals,
[95:42] why do you eat salted duck eggs or ham?
[95:44] These are all pre-made. Hmm.
[95:47] You can’t just dismiss all pre-made
[95:49] meals out of hand; first, you have to
[95:51] categorize them. Second, pre-made meals
[95:55] aren't all bad. It’s true that there
[95:59] is definitely a loss in flavor. Hmm.
[96:04] But we have to say that pre-made meals
[96:06] have advantages in terms of scientific
[96:08] nutritional ratios and avoiding long
[96:10] periods of deep-frying during the
[96:12] preparation process.
[96:17] But what about additives?
[96:19] And preservatives?
[96:22] So the topic of pre-made meals isn't
[96:24] really about cooking or catering;
[96:25] it’s a topic about trust. It's a
[96:30] matter of national health and hygiene.
[96:32] Who is in control of these pre-made
[96:34] meals? For example, nowadays, when we
[96:36] go to a restaurant and order a dish
[96:38] like twice-cooked pork or red-braised
[96:40] pork, are these considered pre-prepared
[96:42] ingredients?
[96:44] Red-braised pork is more likely.
[96:46] There’s no twice-cooked pork that
[96:48] isn't pre-processed, because you have
[96:50] to boil it first. They can't wait for
[96:52] you to arrive and then start boiling
[96:53] the meat.
[96:54] But, but as long as it's stir-fried on
[96:56] the spot, it doesn't count. Right,
[96:58] that’s just the heating process.
[97:00] This is something Chinese people are
[97:02] very particular about, called "wok hei.
[97:04] "
[97:06] Yes.
[97:07] In Cantonese, you call it...
[97:08] I can say "wok hei," yes, "wok hei."
[97:13] Teacher Chen described this the most
[97:15] vividly. He said, what is this "wok hei
[97:18] "? "Wok hei" is like when you used to
[97:20] cook a chicken to offer to your
[97:21] ancestors.
[97:23] How would your ancestors eat it? It’s
[97:25] when the steam is still rising—there
[97:26] are spirits three feet above your head.
[97:28] Mm.
[97:29] They eat it right then and there;
[97:31] that’s "wok hei." I think that’s
[97:34] great. Take, for example, that Hunan
[97:36] chili stir-fried pork chain that we all
[97:39] know, with so many stores nationwide. I
[97:41] think this young person is very smart.
[97:44] He monetized the "wok hei" of the
[97:46] Hunanese people.
[97:47] Mm.
[97:47] Mm. Mm.
[97:49] In this restaurant, I can lack anything
[97:51] else, but I must have a chef who
[97:53] stir-fries the chili pork. I measure
[97:59] how far you are from where it's made,
[98:00] and I bring this piping hot chili pork
[98:02] to you, then open a rice cooker,
[98:04] letting you eat it fresh and hot.
[98:09] The shortest distance and time from the
[98:11] wok to the mouth.
[98:12] So, this doesn't count as pre-prepared
[98:14] food. So, would you say it's
[98:16] pre-prepared food? If they have
[98:20] bulk-processed items, it's "easy to
[98:22] cooking," but if it's fresh meat, then
[98:24] it doesn't have that; it’s selling
[98:26] pure "wok hei."
[98:29] So, the government has now released a
[98:31] standard, and they say if we follow
[98:33] these strictest standards, in the
[98:35] future, pre-prepared food won't be a
[98:37] monster, but might even be widely
[98:38] welcomed. But their definition doesn't
[98:42] even include central kitchen dishes as
[98:44] pre-prepared food, according to this
[98:46] strict definition.
[98:48] And they mention preservatives—they
[98:50] can't be added. They say, but there’s
[98:52] actually a problem, which is...
[98:55] Uh, are you willing to pay a higher
[98:56] price to buy this pre-prepared food?
[98:59] Because this involves things like cold
[99:01] chain.
[99:02] Mm.
[99:03] Cold chain management all the way to
[99:05] your home. It must be kept at a low
[99:08] temperature at a certain degree for
[99:09] sterilization. Yes, if you don't add
[99:13] preservatives, you have to use other
[99:15] means for disinfection or anti-spoilage
[99:17] , but that requires investing in a lot
[99:19] of equipment and guarantees.
[99:21] So, in that case, when we talk about
[99:23] the mid-range market, would you accept
[99:25] a dish like twice-cooked pork costing
[99:27] 70 or 80 yuan? Is there an issue with
[99:29] that?
[99:31] Isn't the advantage of pre-made dishes
[99:33] that they are expensive, fresh, and
[99:35] full of flavor?
[99:37] Full of flavor.
[99:39] You've gone through a freezing process.
[99:42] I mentioned on my show last time that I
[99:44] ate Dongpo pork that had been frozen
[99:45] for three months. This is the aviation
[99:49] standard, the highest standard in
[99:51] cold-chain transport, a standard where
[99:53] absolutely no errors are allowed.
[99:58] It’s like, I’ll give you the
[99:59] freshest; three months, just three
[100:01] months, that’s as fresh as it gets,
[100:03] because during the freezing process,
[100:05] they have to keep testing for bacteria.
[100:08] Yeah.
[100:09] Constantly being spot-checked. Then you
[100:12] say it tastes good. That might be a
[100:15] whole other topic.
[100:22] Think about a Dongpo pork knuckle; you
[100:24] pick it up with chopsticks, and you see
[100:26] it jiggling even when you aren't
[100:27] touching it. He can turn eating into an
[100:36] aesthetics lesson.
[100:40] I think I just saw that meat in his
[100:42] hands earlier. You.
[100:43] Watch it move.
[100:46] Pre-made doesn't equate to standardized
[100:48] , uniform flavor.
[100:53] Because my concept isn't clear,
[100:55] actually, all pre-made dishes are just
[100:57] components. In reality, there are many
[101:01] sub-categories accompanying these
[101:02] pre-made dishes now. The sauce might be
[101:05] an entirely different system.
[101:07] It also includes fresh ingredients,
[101:09] like chopped green onions. For example,
[101:13] in the Jiangnan region, they use garlic
[101:15] sprouts for seasoning, and they must be
[101:17] the tender, delicate kind. That is
[101:21] actually extremely difficult.
[101:23] Yeah.
[101:26] If a restaurant still has to consider
[101:27] costs, and if they all use those garlic
[101:29] sprouts from wholesale markets
[101:31] delivered by big trucks, they have no
[101:33] flavor.
[101:35] Also, do pre-made dishes make people
[101:37] feel like you're being lazy? I mean,
[101:40] why are we so averse to it? It's just
[101:42] that I don't like you, right. I feel
[101:45] that your respect for food lies in the
[101:47] cooking process, but if you shorten
[101:49] this process and make it very quick, I
[101:50] feel you don't respect the food enough,
[101:52] or you don't respect me, so I think
[101:54] you're being lazy. You know, when I
[101:57] think of pre-made food, I think of
[101:59] being a mom; when I went to Finland,
[102:00] the weaning stage for my first child at
[102:02] six months was done in Hong Kong, and
[102:04] let me tell you, I was mashing
[102:06] strawberries every day, right? And
[102:07] everything was blended into a puree,
[102:09] right? Everything was pre-made by me;
[102:12] I'd grind it into little ice cubes, put
[102:14] them in the freezer, and then take them
[102:16] out to heat up when needed, right? I
[102:19] even made things like fresh-pressed
[102:21] tofu or other fresh items on the spot.
[102:23] I prepared every single meal myself,
[102:24] and I even had to think about the
[102:26] ingredients and everything. After
[102:28] arriving in Finland, I noticed all the
[102:30] parents around me were just buying
[102:32] canned baby food from the supermarket,
[102:34] like jars of food.
[102:35] I saw the glass jars and said, "There
[102:37] must be preservatives in these," but
[102:38] they said, "No, it's canned, so it must
[102:40] have preservatives." They said, "No, it
[102:42] doesn't."
[102:43] Absolutely impossible.
[102:44] None at all. Even the hospital nurses
[102:47] told me, "Mom, don't work so hard, just
[102:49] buy it from the supermarket."
[102:52] Exactly. The nutrition is actually more
[102:55] balanced because they've already
[102:56] processed it for you; it's better to
[102:58] raise your child with ease than to
[103:00] spend two hours in the kitchen making
[103:01] puree for them.
[103:03] You should spend those two hours
[103:05] interacting with your baby, holding
[103:07] them, or even taking a break yourself;
[103:08] just feed them the pre-made stuff, and
[103:10] they will grow up just fine.
[103:12] Ah.
[103:13] It instantly eliminated all my guilt.
[103:15] Oh.
[103:16] Then I realized, wow, okay, I'll switch
[103:18] . But I thought it was absolutely
[103:22] impossible—for a baby, that's
[103:23] impossible—it would be a crime,
[103:25] surely that can't be okay.
[103:28] Hmm.
[103:30] However, I do have some concerns about
[103:32] food that is ground by hand. Like,
[103:35] could there be contamination during the
[103:37] preparation process?
[103:39] Hey, is it really clean? You say it's
[103:41] something I made myself.
[103:43] Right.
[103:43] It might actually be harmful. You know
[103:45] what I mean? Even in that process,
[103:48] because baby food requires
[103:50] pasteurization, like at 40 degrees
[103:52] Celsius...
[103:54] Then.
[103:56] Did you complete that whole process
[103:58] thoroughly? That's very difficult. When
[104:06] we tell stories, we say things like, "
[104:09] It's engraved in our hearts," or "It
[104:11] carries the traditions of our ancestors
[104:13] and the warmth of my hands," passing it
[104:15] on to the next person. But is "handmade
[104:21] " really good?
[104:23] Hands are full of bacteria.
[104:26] I'll give you an example: national
[104:28] standard rapeseed oil.
[104:31] Hmm.
[104:33] Versus rapeseed oil you press by hand
[104:35] at home. I'm not saying which one is
[104:40] better. I'm saying from a safety
[104:45] perspective, handmade rapeseed oil
[104:47] contains a large amount of—I think
[104:49] it's called erucic acid? I can't quite
[104:57] explain the chemistry, but it has many
[104:59] elements that aren't good for us or can
[105:00] be harmful to our bodies. Hmm.
[105:07] We are all obsessed with, for example,
[105:09] extra virgin olive oil from Spain or
[105:11] Italy.
[105:15] It is truly additive-free, filtered
[105:17] very little, and has a very rich flavor
[105:19] , but it comes with risks. We never
[105:24] warn people about these artisanal risks
[105:26] .
[105:28] Because you’ve put in so much effort,
[105:29] how could I have the heart to bring
[105:31] them up? Yet, we will point out
[105:33] industrial ones that have passed many
[105:35] standards,
[105:36] those produced under strict standards.
[105:39] But personally, I prefer the handmade
[105:41] ones because the flavor is punchy.
[105:45] Especially that mustard-like note. We
[105:48] eat raw rapeseed oil, and it's
[105:50] incredibly delicious if it's within
[105:52] five days. I like it. A famous Beijing
[105:56] restaurant you’ve also eaten at,
[105:59] they press fresh peanut oil every five
[106:01] days. That way, the freshest flavor of
[106:04] the peanut oil is preserved without
[106:06] oxidation.
[106:06] People in Hunan must use tea seed oil
[106:08] when stir-frying meat. Every year
[106:11] during the tea seed harvest, every
[106:13] family stores some in the fridge, but
[106:15] it will eventually oxidize. Sometimes
[106:18] in this world, you have to compromise;
[106:20] it’s impossible to have it all. You
[106:23] can’t say you want both perfect
[106:25] safety and enough flavor—it really
[106:27] doesn't exist. This is the change, and
[106:30] you know where the contradiction in
[106:32] this world lies.
[106:34] Industrial standards don't necessarily
[106:36] mean unhygienic or unhealthy, right?
[106:40] And the artisanal flavors we cherish so
[106:42] much don't necessarily mean they are
[106:44] hygienic or healthy. Yes.