9#楼

“Nine layers,” a young boy whispered, craning his neck to see the top of 安化楼 (Anhua Building), or 9#楼 as it was sometimes called. “Imagine living that high!” 安化楼 (Anhua Building), a nine-story giant with an eight-story annex, dominated the Beijing skyline in the 1960s. It was a symbol of progress, a modern marvel in a city steeped in ancient history. Known as the “high-cadre building,” 安化楼 (Anhua Building) was home to an elite community of high-ranking officials and professionals. Its imposing presence near Guang’anmen Bridge made it a landmark, a beacon of the new era. In 1958, amidst the fervor of the “Great Leap Forward,” 安化楼 (Anhua Building) emerged as a model of “urban people’s commune residential housing.” Its construction, along with other large-scale projects like the Fuxingmenwai residential building, symbolized the nation’s ambition. Imagine, in a city of mostly single-story homes, this towering structure reaching for the sky. Its Soviet-style architecture, with its thick walls and spacious layout, spoke of a future where everyone would live comfortably and communally. Zhang Qing, an 83-year-old resident, remembers moving into the seventh floor in 1962. Her husband, a veteran of the revolution, had secured their two-room apartment. It was a privilege, a mark of their status. At that time, she recalls, the seventh floor housed only her family. The entire 安化楼 (Anhua Building) was sparsely populated. Gradually, more families moved in, mostly high-ranking officials from the Chongwen District government. The building even had a public canteen on the first floor, a novelty in those days. Most residents ate at their workplaces or sent their children to childcare facilities. However, on Saturday evenings, the canteen staff would go door to door, taking dinner orders. There were no menus then, just a notebook where residents wrote their requests. Shortly after, food would be delivered right to their apartments. It was a unique service, reminiscent of a hotel. 安化楼 (Anhua Building) also boasted Beijing’s first residential elevator. Children would come from all around just to marvel at it, riding up and down for the sheer thrill of it. The elevator’s small cabin, barely three square meters, held a maximum of five or six people. Residents of the upper floors, especially elderly ones, relied heavily on this single elevator. The building’s design, with its communal kitchen and bathroom facilities, reflected the socialist principles of collectivism. Yet, even then, people clung to their traditional ways. They began to install small stoves in their apartments, creating impromptu kitchens in their living rooms. This practice eventually led to the installation of gas stoves and, in 1964, 安化楼 (Anhua Building) became one of the first residential buildings in Beijing to have piped gas. Today, 安化楼 (Anhua Building) stands in stark contrast to the sleek, modern buildings that surround it. It has become a relic of a bygone era. The once-grand entrance is now a free parking lot, filled with residents’ cars. The hallways, once bright and spacious, are now cluttered with belongings and crisscrossed with electrical wires. The original ornate glass lamps are gone, destroyed during the Cultural Revolution. Yet, amid the decay, 安化楼 (Anhua Building) still evokes a sense of community. The shared kitchens, now grimy and dilapidated, were once places of laughter and shared meals. The rooftop, once home to an air-raid siren and a popular spot for children to play, now stands empty. 安化楼 (Anhua Building)’s story is one of transformation. From a symbol of socialist ideals to a weathered testament to time, it reflects the changing face of China.