Exploring Beijing’s Sanzuoqiao Hutong: In Search of the Lost Ancient Bridges of Beijing
If you wander through the Shichahai area of Beijing, you may step into an ancient lane named Sanzuoqiao Hutong.
Stretching from Qianhai West Street in the north to Di’anmen West Street in the south, it is now a major thoroughfare leading to the famous scenic spot of Prince Gong’s Mansion.
But have you ever wondered where the bridge in this hutong’s name is, and what stories lie behind it?
Table of Contents
Quick Guide
- Highlights: Birthplace of Nalan Xingde, the foremost Qing Dynasty poet; former residence of Zhang Boju, a prominent collector from the Republic of China era; ruins of three ancient white marble bridges that have since disappeared
- Location: West side of Qianhai, Shichahai
- Recommended visit duration: 15–20 minutes
- Keywords: Vanished waterways, scholarly spirit, tranquility amid the bustle
- Direct Access: Exit B of Beihai North Station on Metro Line 6; walk approximately 200 meters to the entrance of the alley
The Easiest Way to Get There | Transportation Information (Must-Read for Visitors)
Metro (Recommended, no traffic)
- Take Metro Line 6 → Exit at Exit B (Northeast Exit) of Beihai North Station
- Turn left upon exiting the station and walk about 200 meters; you’ll see the entrance to Sanqiao Hutong directly ahead
- The entire journey takes about 3–5 minutes. No detours or asking for directions required—ideal for first-time visitors
Bus (Great for enjoying the street scenery along the way)
- Stop: Beihai North Gate
- Routes: 13, 42, 107, 111, 118, 701, 612, etc.
- Get off and walk about 300 meters northwest to reach the south entrance of Sanzuoqiao Hutong
Taxi/Walking (Best for combining with other attractions)
- Search directly on your GPS: Sanzuoqiao Hutong
- From the Prince Gong’s Mansion: About a 3–5 minute walk
- From the West Bank of Qianhai: About a 5–8 minute walk
- ❌ Driving is not recommended: The hutong is narrow, there are almost no designated parking spaces in the area, parking is extremely difficult, and you’re likely to violate traffic regulations
Where Is the Bridge? The Historical Mystery Behind the Name
Sanzuoqiao Hutong gets its name from a bridge that has long vanished. According to the Records of Shuntian Prefecture, there was once a stone bridge here called Yueqiao Bridge, also known colloquially as “Sanzuoqiao (Three Bridges)”.
It was a single-arch stone bridge spanning the Crescent River (also named Yuhe River).
The Crescent River is no natural waterway; it was an artificial canal dug during the Ming Dynasty to regulate the water levels of the Three Seas in the imperial city (today’s Zhonghai, Nanhai, and Beihai Lakes).
The river once flowed east from Deshengqiao Bridge, passed Liguangqiao Bridge, turned towards Liuyin Street, followed the west wall of Prince Gong’s Mansion, and finally emptied into the Taiye Pool (part of today’s Beihai Lake) via Sanzuoqiao Bridge, Xiangzhaqiao Bridge, and other water crossings.
Interestingly, despite the name “Three Bridges”, there seems to have only been one bridge here in history. Scholars speculate that the term “Three” may be an abbreviation of “the Third Bridge”, referring to the third bridge from the river’s source.
Unfortunately, in 1952, the Crescent River was converted into an underground sewer, and the bridge was demolished. Only the name Sanzuoqiao Hutong remains, like a historical bookmark marking the scenery of the past.
During the Ming and Qing dynasties, this place was a favourite among literati and poets. Poets such as Hu Yan and Wu Songliang wrote poems like Yueqiao Bridge and Ode to Yueqiao Bridge to praise its scenery, allowing us to imagine the bustling scene of a small bridge over a flowing river back then.
The Hutong Then and Now: From a Living Space to a Tourist Thoroughfare
Today’s Sanzuoqiao Hutong is a far cry from its former self.
At the northern entrance of the hutong stands the entrance to Prince Gong’s Mansion, once the residence of Heshen, a powerful minister of the Qing Dynasty, and later the residence of Prince Gong Yixin. It is now one of the best-preserved royal mansions in Beijing and a popular tourist destination.
Courtyard No.21 in the hutong was once the stable of Prince Gong’s Mansion, and it was originally part of the same complex as the current Former Residence of Guo Moruo.
At the southern entrance, the Hong Kong Economic and Trade Office in Beijing is on one side, and Beihai Subway Station on the other.
Thanks to its prime location connecting a famous scenic spot and a transportation hub, many of the once-quiet residential courtyards in the hutong have been transformed into cultural and creative shops and snack bars catering to tourists.
Walking down this hutong, you may feel a strange sense of familiarity. The goods sold here are the same generic items found in many other tourist spots across China—bamboo tube milk tea engraved with “Beijing”, T-shirts printed with cartoon emperors, and indistinguishable “old Beijing” pastries. Ironically, the genuine charm of old Beijing is hard to find here.
A Cup of Plum Tea: A Taste of Old Beijing’s Vanishing Charm
There’s one small detail that always makes my heart both melt and ache whenever I visit: plum tea.
Authentic Old Beijing plum soup is made by slowly simmering black plums with rock sugar and osmanthus flowers, then straining out the solids and chilling the liquid, resulting in a refreshing, smooth drink that isn’t cloyingly sweet.
Back in the day, Xinda Zhai in Liulichang was the most famous spot for it; one sip transported you straight to a summer in Old Beiping.
But what you find in the hutongs today is mostly a sweet, cloying instant mix—lacking the fragrance of osmanthus and the rich depth of black plums, leaving only the taste of additives.
This drink serves as a small microcosm.
As the hutongs, once home to generations, gradually transform into purely commercial tourist zones, the things that require time to mature quietly fade away:
the shifting play of light and shadow in the courtyards, the familiar ways neighbors have interacted for generations, the traditional crafts passed down for over a century…
These “vibes of daily life”—which cannot be quickly monetized—are disappearing bit by bit.
The Name Is the Last Remnant
Thus, the story of the “bridge” in Sanzuoqiao Hutong is not only a historical tale of geographical changes, but also a modern reflection on cultural memory. Though the bridge is no longer visible, its name endures, reminding people that there was once a river, a bridge, and a different kind of scenery here.
Like many old lanes in Beijing, this hutong stands at the crossroads of the past and the present. It attracts tourists from all over the world who come to explore “old Beijing”, but how much of what they see and experience is the genuine heritage forged by time, and how much is just quickly packaged consumption symbols?
Next time you visit Sanzuoqiao Hutong, besides taking photos and buying souvenirs, try to imagine this: hundreds of years ago, a poet standing on that single-arch stone bridge, watching the river flow slowly toward the imperial palace.
Or decades ago, residents of the hutong fanning themselves, chatting, and drinking authentic sour plum soup boiled with dark plums and sweet-scented osmanthus on a summer night. These imaginings may help you touch the deeper, more vivid side of Beijing hidden behind this name.
