“Eight signal mounds?” Li Wei asks, a twinkle in his eye. “Longbaoshan Number 8 Bianfang. That’s what we call it. Now, imagine yourself a Ming Dynasty soldier.” Li Wei gestures dramatically towards the ruins of Longbaoshan Number 8 Bianfang. “The year is 1573. You’re stationed here, high on Longbaoshan, eyes scanning the horizon. You are part of a chain. A chain of signal towers stretching across the mountains, protecting the capital from invaders. Your job? Simple, yet crucial. Watch for the enemy. And when you see them? Light the signal fire.” He pauses for effect, letting the wind whistle through the crumbling stones. “Imagine the responsibility. The fate of the empire resting on your shoulders.” Li Wei continues, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Longbaoshan Number 8 Bianfang was more than just a pile of rocks. It was a vital link in Beijing’s defense system. Part of a network that allowed messages to travel hundreds of miles in a matter of hours. The speed was astonishing for the time. Each tower had a specific combination of smoke and fire signals. These signals conveyed complex messages. Everything from troop movements to requests for reinforcements. “Think of it as the Ming Dynasty’s internet,” Li Wei quips, drawing chuckles from the group. “Only a lot less cat videos.” He then points to the central axis of Beijing, visible in the distance. “See that line? The Beijing Central Axis? It’s more than just a line. It’s a testament to centuries of meticulous planning, connecting the city’s most important structures. The Yongding Gate, the Forbidden City, the Bell and Drum Towers. All aligned perfectly, showcasing the power and order of the empire.” He leads the group closer to the ruins, inviting them to touch the weathered stones. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, “and feel the weight of history. Imagine the soldiers who stood here. The fires they lit. The messages they sent. This is more than just a ruin. This is a window into the past. A reminder of the ingenuity and dedication that went into protecting this great city.”
Центральный дом работников искусств
Step through the grand wooden doors of the Central House of the Workers of Art, and you’ll be transported to