[Hai Streets] The Ancient and Little Known History of Yuyuan Garden

Hai Streets is our semi-regular column on Shanghai's great commercial arteries. From Nanjing Road East's blend of heritage storefronts and pop-culture malls to Huaihai Road's luxe lanes and Hongqiao area's international cultural diversity hubs, we explore how Shanghai's commercial hubs drive billions in sales and shape the city's identity – where commerce, culture and history collide in neon, nostalgia and non-stop foot traffic.

Yuyuan Mall. You know the one. Wall-to-wall tourists, sticky fingers full of tanghulu, and that explosion of red lanterns every year during the Lantern Festival. It's the postcard version of Shanghai's old town, and it's hard not to get swept up in the noise, the snacks, the elbows.

Around it, it's just as full throttle. BFC flexing its glass muscles down the road, Shiliupu Wharf sending off cruise ships like it's still the 1800s, and the Bund lounging nearby like an old cat in the sun.

But here's the thing. All of that is surface. Beneath the crowds and the caramelized sugar is a place with layers. Not just another commercial zone but a living fossil wrapped in redwood and curved rooftops. Before it was a mall, before it was a festival ground, this was a private dream turned public maze, shaped by dynasties, devotion, and a city's evolving heartbeat.

So how much do you really know about where you're standing when you're Instagramming dumplings here? What stories are hiding behind those curling eaves and narrow walkways? Pull back the neon a little and there's another Yuyuan waiting.

A Ming and Qing Architectural World in the Heart of Shanghai

Step into Yuyuan Mall and the first thing that hits you isn't the crowds or the smell of stinky tofu. It's the architecture. Dark grey roof tiles. Blood red railings. Eaves that curl like calligraphy. Roofs stacked like a pagoda version of mille-feuille. The whole place is dressed head to toe in Ming and Qing style, and it wears it well.

This isn't your average commercial complex. It's a time capsule with a food court. A photo-op dressed like a dynasty. And that's exactly what pulls people in from every time zone. Yuyuan doesn't just sell nostalgia. It builds it into the walls. This is old-school China laid out in perfect symmetry, dropped right into the middle of Shanghai's concrete hustle.

Everything might look cut from the same cloth at first glance but the buildings inside Yuyuan each throw their own little spin. Case in point, Tianyu Building. It's the big one. Tallest in the complex. Broadest too. If the rest of Yuyuan is poetry, this is the exclamation mark.

Its name carries weight. "Yu" for abundance. For generosity. For more of everything. The kind of word that makes your wallet feel heavy. The calligraphy out front is by Wang Ruozhou, a modern master with brush and ink.

Tianyu's main body stretches four stories high but then it goes even further, capped with a two-story pavilion called Ninghui Ge Loft. Come early, and you'll catch the morning light hitting those upper tiles just right. The whole thing lights up like someone hit a spotlight. Old school feng shui meets Instagram gold. Locals say it's lucky. Visitors say it's beautiful. Either way, it's become one of Yuyuan's must-see moments.

And the calligraphy work on the plaque on the loft comes from Qi Gong, chairman of the China Calligraphers Association. Brush legend. Calligraphy royalty. Not just a building with a view, it's got credentials.

The Hidden Garden Within: Yuyuan Garden

Here's the part most tourists miss. Tucked behind the dumpling lines and souvenir stalls is the real star of the show – Yuyuan Garden. Yes, the actual garden. Not a replica. Not a themed zone. The original.

You can wander the mall all day for free, but the garden makes you pay to play. That little ticket booth draws a quiet line between snack-fueled chaos and centuries-old calm. Step through, and the volume drops.

Yuyuan Garden isn't just part of Yuyuan Mall. It's the reason any of it exists. Long before there were neon signs and lantern festivals, this was a private retreat built in classic Jiangnan style. Winding paths, carved pavilions, hidden corners. A quiet dream turned centerpiece for the entire district. The mall came after. The garden came first.

Yuyuan Garden was first built during the Jiajing and Wanli reigns of the Ming Dynasty, over 450 years ago. Covering more than 30 mu (approximately 2 hectares), it is now referred to as the Inner Garden.

Originally, it was the private garden of Pan Yunduan (潘允端), a Ming official who served as the Provincial Administration Commissioner of Sichuan. When his father retired and returned home in old age, Pan devoted more than twenty years – and considerable personal wealth – to building the garden so his father could enjoy a peaceful and dignified later life.

Pan Yunduan hired the garden designer Zhang Nanyang (张南阳) to bring his vision to life – a layered escape of pavilions, towering rockeries, still water, and perfectly framed views. Back in the mid Ming days, it had over forty named spots and earned a rep as "the finest garden in the southeast." That wasn't bragging. That was the consensus.

The name Yuyuan (豫园) translates to "a garden for pleasing one's parents." Straight up filial piety carved into wood and stone. It's the only Ming-era Jiangnan-style garden left standing in all of Shanghai. A survivor.

Inside, time folds in on itself. Ancient trees. Ming and Qing furniture. Calligraphy from names that still echo. Clay figures. Brick carvings. Inscriptions and plaques lined up like a quiet museum of taste. The whole place is a walk through centuries of handmade beauty.

The Pan family's "Records of Yuyuan Garden" breaks it down into six main zones – the entrance, the Jade Magnificence Hall (玉华堂), Hall of Happiness and Longevity (乐寿堂), the Large Pond (大池), the Big Rockery (大假山), and the Tower of Gathering Scenery (会景堂).

The Large Pond is what you now see near the Lotus Pond by Huxinting Teahouse. The old Hall of Happiness and Longevity? That's where Sansui Hall (三穗堂)stands now. The bones of the past are still there. You just have to know what you're looking at.

Yuhua Hall 玉华堂

Yuhua Hall (玉华堂) was the kind of space that whispered elegance. Out front, a flower bed edged with Taihu rocks, filled with nandina and peonies. Heavenly bamboo swaying, peonies nodding in the breeze. A still life in real life.

Step inside and the mood holds. Carefully placed furniture, everything deliberate. This was the main space for receiving guests, but not in a flashy way. It was quiet power, all detail and restraint. A room that said more by saying less.

The Big Rockery 大假山

Standing 14 meters tall, it is the tallest yellow-stone rockery in any Jiangnan garden. Ancient trees grow atop the structure, with winding paths, caves, cliffs, and layered formations creating a dramatic landscape.

Sansui Hall 三穗堂

Built in 1760, the name "Sansui" symbolizes both official success and hopes for favorable weather and abundant harvests. During the Qing Dynasty, scholars gathered here to read, debate, and exchange ideas – making it something of a historical "scholars' club."

Ancient Opera Stage 古戏台

An important cultural space within the garden, the stage features ornate wood carvings and sweeping eaves. Traditional Chinese opera performances are still held here, offering visitors an immersive cultural experience.

Dianchun Hall 点春堂

Dianchun Hall, built in the early Daoguang period of the Qing Dynasty, takes its name from a line by Song-dynasty poet Su Dongpo 苏东坡. Constructed with a timber framework on a low brick platform, the hall is richly decorated with carved beams and painted rafters. The doors and window panels feature vivid carvings of opera scenes.

Combining all the classic elements of Jiangnan garden design, Dianchun Hall exemplifies the traditional principle of "revealing grandeur through subtlety."

By the late Ming and early Qing, Yuyuan Garden started slipping. Maintenance faded. Parts got sold off. It was a slow unraveling. Then came the Qianlong reign and a group of local elites stepped in, bought it up, and brought it back to life. But splitting ownership among a bunch of hands wasn't exactly sustainable, so they handed it over to Chenghuang Temple next door. The garden became temple property. A temple garden.

During the Tongzhi years(1862-1875), trade guilds stepped in with cash and repairs. That gave the place another breath. But with that came new tenants. Tea houses. Taverns. Market stalls. Even schools. The bones of the original garden got buried under daily life. Little by little, the layout blurred, and the old elegance got crowded out.

In 1956, the Shanghai municipal government allocated special funds for a comprehensive restoration, working with Tongji University experts and skilled craftsmen. Schools, shops, and residences were relocated, waterways dredged, pavilions restored, and extensive greenery replanted. After five years of work, Yuyuan Garden regained its former elegance.

In 1986, the Nanshi District People's Government invested over 6 million yuan (US$0.87 million) to launch a major restoration of Yuyuan Garden, taking the layout of the garden during the Qianlong reign of the Qing Dynasty as its reference.

The project aimed to revive the defining features of a classical Jiangnan garden. After the restoration, Yuyuan Garden emerged elegant and refined, with a well-balanced layout and thoughtfully arranged plantings – widely regarded as a benchmark achievement in the revival of traditional Jiangnan garden design.

In the early 21st century, Yuyuan Garden underwent another round of restoration, including the rebuilding of Hanbi Building and Tingtao Pavilion, further enhancing the quality of its landscape.

Today, visitors from China and abroad alike are captivated by this celebrated "Famous Garden of Shanghai," lingering among its pavilions, rockeries, water features, and plantings that embody the distinctive charm of Jiangnan garden aesthetics.

Huxinting Teahouse and the Zigzag Bridge

Huxinting Teahouse and the Zigzag Bridge are the scene stealers of Yuyuan Mall. Tourists swarm them. Locals nod at them. Cameras love them. But these weren't always mall mascots. They used to be part of Yuyuan Garden proper.

Huxinting is known as the "First Teahouse in Shanghai," and it wears that title like a crown. It wasn't always a teahouse, though. Back in the day, it was just a pavilion inside the garden called Fuyi Pavilion (凫佚亭). Then in 1784, it got a rebuild and a new name – Huxinting (湖心亭). The Pavilion in the Heart of the Lake. Simple. Poetic. Perfect.

During the Qianlong reign, it was the Cloth Merchants' Guild that stepped up. They funded a full rebuild of Huxinting. Out went the original island and old pavilion. In came a new two-story structure in classic pavilion style. It wasn't for sipping tea yet – it was a place for merchants to meet, talk shop, and make deals.

But times changed. Imported fabric started cutting into the blue dyed cloth trade and the guild's fortunes dipped. By the Xianfeng period, they handed Huxinting over to the public. The space turned into a teahouse, cycling through names like Yeshi Xuan (也是轩) and Wanzai Xuan (宛在轩). The tea stayed. The names changed. The building remained.

As the city grew louder and life got busier, Huxinting found its rhythm. With its waterside perch and easy charm, it became a magnet. One of the key gathering spots in Shanghai's old town. A place to sip, talk, linger. It wasn't just a teahouse. It was the teahouse.

The Zigzag Bridge that loops beside it started out simple, with wooden railings hugging both sides. But after a fire swept through Chenghuang Temple in 1926, the old bridge was scrapped. In its place came a reinforced concrete version, still zigzagging but now dressed in dark red pebble wash. Stronger. Sturdier. Still elegant.

At the same time, they added a new touch to the south – a two-story pavilion right on the water, topped with a curved roof and a hip and gable frame. That gave Huxinting the silhouette it's known for today. Iconic, unmistakable, and very much at home.

Although the 1926 southern extension adopted the same Jiangnan pavilion style as the original structure in terms of roof form, façade, and decorative elements, its internal wooden floor system and triangular roof trusses reflected modern timber construction techniques. This combination illustrates an approach of adapting Western methods for Chinese architectural use – modern in structure, while traditional in form.

After Yuyuan Garden got its full-scale restoration, the lotus pond, Huxinting Teahouse, and the Zigzag Bridge were officially marked as scenic spots outside the garden walls. A kind of open-air VIP lounge for history and aesthetics.

Huxinting has been pouring tea since 1855. That makes it one of the oldest teahouses in Shanghai. And not just any teahouse – a magnet for minds. Writers, poets, thinkers. Ba Jin (巴金), Cao Yu (曹禺), Guo Moruo (郭沫若). They came here not just to drink but to sing, write, sketch, and argue. It was a salon with lotus views. A quiet power station of culture.

And the guest list only grew. Queen Elizabeth II. Presidents. Prime ministers. Diplomats from Europe, Japan, and Canada. The kind of place where everyone takes the tea seriously and the history even more so. Too many names to list, but the message is clear – if these walls could talk, they'd speak in ten languages and quote poetry.

After two years of protective restoration, Huxinting Teahouse officially reopened to the public in 2025. The newly restored teahouse offers a small exhibition on the first floor, showcasing the teahouse's inscriptions and old artifacts, while the second floor features an area dedicated to traditional Chinese music (Pingtan), tea display sections, and VIP rooms.

Ba Jin's seat is still there. So is Queen Elizabeth II's. Marked, preserved, and quietly glowing with past conversations. A little nod to the teahouse's place in the story of Shanghai and the world.

But it's not all velvet ropes. Every Monday, regulars can still grab a tea set on the first floor for just 10 yuan. A warm cup for the price of a street snack. Tradition served cheaply.

On the other end, there's the Queen's Exclusive Set. Same spread Her Majesty had during her visit. Nine-grid layout. Custom dim sum from Lu Bolang. It serves three and costs 1,288 yuan. Advance booking required. Royal calories don't come easy.

And the teahouse isn't stuck in the past. New Chinese-style teas. Heritage-inspired ceremonies. Photo ops. Fancy snacks arranged like mini art installations. It's working too. Younger crowds are showing up, phone in one hand, porcelain cup in the other. Old world tea culture, remixed for the feed.

From the window on the second floor of the Huxinting Teahouse, you can look down and see one of the iconic landmarks of Yuyuan Mall – the "Zigzag Bridge."

The name of the bridge is tied to the number "nine," the largest odd number, which holds auspicious connotations in Chinese culture.

In ancient times, the number nine symbolized perfection. The bridge's design evokes a sense of winding paths and a feeling of serenity, while also representing good fortune and nobility.

For Shanghai locals, there's a shared understanding: walking across the Zigzag Bridge at the start of the new year is believed to be a way to walk off the year's troubles and wish for a smooth and prosperous life ahead. This has become a traditional custom, especially during the Chinese New Year when the Yuyuan Lantern Festival is held.

The koi and turtles in the pond beneath the bridge add to the beauty. The brightly colored koi are seen as symbols of good luck, while the turtles represent longevity.

But is the Zigzag Bridge truly made up of nine curves? Not exactly.

The bridge, which bends three steps at a time and curves every five steps, is actually divided into two sections: one with seven curves and the other with eight, making it a total of fifteen bends.

The bridge, stretching 104 meters in length, was originally constructed during the Qing Dynasty under the reign of Emperor Qianlong. It was a wooden bridge, but after a fire in the 1920s, it was rebuilt in cement.

The bridge isn't just for walking. It's a sculpture you move through. Every part of it is deliberate.

At the entrance of each section, the ground is set with lotus patterns. Step in, and each curve greets you with a different bloom. Narcissus for January. Apricot blossoms in February. Peach for March. Azalea for April. Peonies in May. Gardenias in June. Lotus in July. Osmanthus in August. Chrysanthemums come in September. Hibiscus in October. Camellias in November. Plum blossoms close the year in December.

Twelve months. Twelve flowers. Each one carved into the bend of the bridge like a quiet calendar. It's a design that doesn't shout but smiles as you notice it. Playful. Precise. A little bit poetic under your feet.