Nanjing’s recently opened second subway line offers a chance of interconnectivity and convenience that the metropolis sorely needs. But this freshly christened route of east-west stops offers more than a handy way to move about town. To supplement the subway’s role in relieving surface-level congestion, Nanjing’s metro stations provide splashes of color to go along with the ride.
Many of the new stops along the underground’s second line pay homage to the neighborhoods above with colorful murals, unique architecture, and other assorted touches of localized flavor. The most impressive display along line 2’s string of stops belongs to the Mu Xu Yuan Street station at the foot of Nanjing’s Purple Mountain. The ceiling is adorned with a mural that weaves in the tale of Chang’e, goddess of the moon, and her forlorn husband Houyi. The motif of stars and planets makes a celestial ceiling design that urges commuters to forget that they’re standing some 80 feet underground.
Many subway stops have an additional touch of local color that the engineers and city planners may not have accounted for: the legions of vendors and peddlers that camp out in the shelter of the stations’ stairwells and exits. As the temperatures drop and Nanjing’s winter becomes more and more frigid, the street economy will entrench further into the sturdy and gleaming catacombs of the flashy new stops.
As these thrifty vendors and peddlers seek shelter in the relative warmth of the subway’s entrances and exits, one station will likely be unpopulated by loitering crowds all throughout winter. The temperature in this underground stop is uncharacteristically cool all throughout the year. And while this may be a welcome haven from the scorching Nanjing summer heat, it proves monotonous on chilly winter mornings for commuters. The abnormally low temperatures don’t arise from some engineering phenomena; science has so far been unable to pin down the exact cause of the chill floating around the Ming Gu Gong station, but many have been pointing to the station’s location and history to explain the temperature discrepancy.
Above ground, Ming Gu Gong is home to the ruins of Nanjing’s former Imperial Palace. This was China’s original ‘Forbidden City.’ Home to the first generation of Ming Dynasty Emperors, this citadel was reduced to its foundations in 1402. Nobody knows for sure what became of the Jianwen Emperor, the last tenant of Nanjing’s Ming Palace. Many believe that he perished in the fire that destroyed the Imperial Palace.
Some employees of Nanjing’s Metro believe there is some correlation between the bloody end to the Jianwen Emperor’s reign in Nanjing and the inexplicable cold draught running through the underground station. Could it be Jianwen’s ghost that haunts the glistening, chrome-adorned passages of the station?
To understand this correlation between the Jianwen Emperor and the metro station, one must get a sense of the history surrounding this embattled emperor. The abridged version of Jianwen’s reign goes like this: Zhu Yunwen’s grandfather defeated the Mongol forces of the Yuan Dynasty in the late 14th century, becoming the first emperor of the Ming Dynasty, better known as HongWu. Zhu Yunwen assumed the throne in 1398, adopting his title as the Jianwen Emperor. He had a short reign in prelude to a civil war with one of his ambitious uncles, Zhu Di, who eventually led a rebellion against Jianwen and moved the capital north to Beijing.
The demise of Jianwen and his palatial home marked the end of an era for Nanjing. The status of national capital wouldn’t return to Nanjing until the modern Republic of China was formed in 1912.
Nanjing Metro has tried to combat the unseasonable cold in the Ming Gu Gong station through a number of measures, most of them unsuccessful. Finally, with no viable solution to stabilize the temperature, the designers and engineers decided to wrap the station’s structural pillars with a red metallic jacket. The designers hope that the bright red hues will put commuters in a warm state of mind, and combat the incessant chill.
One can’t help but wonder at the cause of the phenomenon, but in any case it allows for some amusing speculation. Maybe some invisible force pulls wind into the station, or some underground estuary chills the concrete surrounding the platform. Perhaps engineers will reason and deduce their way to a scientific conclusion, or perhaps they won’t. A more interesting notion is to consider some supernatural cause for the chill. Is it the spirit of the deposed emperor, lingering in the noisy tunnels and humming hallways of the underground station and blowing a frosty note of dissidence? Who can say for sure, but any commuter who boards or disembarks the subway at Ming Gu Gong should take the time to explore the remnants of Nanjing’s history above.
That chill in the air may be a subtle jab to explore China’s history after witnessing its modern renaissance.
Rory Keane is an American-born teacher and writer who has logged nearly two years in China, and is working on another year-long stint in the Middle Kingdom. He writes about travel, sociopolitical issues, health, entertainment, and culture, among other topics.
