Su Dongpo's Huangzhou: A Sanctuary for the Heartbroken Today
On the evening of the 18th day of the intercalary fifth month in the sixth year of the Qiandao era (1170), Lu You set out from Shanyin (present-day Shaoxing, Zhejiang), traveling by boat along the canal and Yangtze River to assume the post of Tongpan in Kuizhou (around present-day Fengjie, Chongqing).
From Jiangnan to Shu, the journey was long and arduous, with endless mountains and rivers. Lu You was not in high spirits. His ambition was to restore the nation and reclaim lost territories, yet despite his fervent aspirations, his grand ideals remained unfulfilled. Now, he could only reluctantly take up a minor official post in Shu.
By the eighth month, when his boat passed Huangzhou, he deliberately stayed for a day for one reason—to disembark and seek traces of Su Dongpo.
He spent a full day in Huangzhou, visiting each site while comparing it to Su Dongpo’s literary works. He went to Dongpo’s former residence, Snow Hall, Siwang Pavilion, Anguo Temple, Qixia Tower, Chibi Cliff… Only then, satisfied, did he board the boat and continue his journey.
Nine years later, Lu You made a special trip to Huangzhou again to revisit Dongpo’s legacy.
These two trips to Huangzhou, inspired by Dongpo’s story, finally helped Lu You come to terms with his own plight.
And throughout history, how many others besides Lu You have visited Huangzhou because of Su Dongpo?
▲Street view of Huanggang | Photographer: Haozi
Since the Song Dynasty, those who read Su Dongpo have yearned for Huangzhou, and those who visit Huangzhou invariably commemorate Su Dongpo.
Thus, Huangzhou is a fortunate city.
In the Northern Song Dynasty, Huangzhou was still a "remote and humble riverside town." But on the first day of the second month in the third year of the Yuanfeng era (1080), with the arrival of Su Shi, it secured an immortal place in Chinese literary history.
In Huangzhou, he wrote the foremost "heroic ci" of the Song Dynasty, "Niannujiao: Memories of the Past at Red Cliff," and the finest literary prose, "Red Cliff Rhapsody." He also penned the most celebrated running script of the Song Dynasty, "Cold Food Observance," with its "undulating brilliance and unrestrained vigor." For centuries, these works have nurtured our nation’s aesthetic sense and transcendent thinking.
Without Su Shi, Huangzhou would have been far dimmer, just another unremarkable small town in the long sweep of history.
Huangzhou is also a city of healing.
In the chaos of modern life, worldly existence often becomes a relentless chase. People are invariably trapped by various troubles, tossed by life’s ups and downs, rushing frantically between peaks and troughs, plagued by fear, anxiety, confusion, and mental exhaustion… They are swayed by emotions and mired in spiritual crises.
How should we overcome life’s trials and disappointments, emerging from the lowest valleys?
Su Shi had already written the answer in Huangzhou. His method of using Huangzhou as a whetstone to emerge from the darkest moments of his life remains one of his most significant contributions to modern people.
Open Su Shi’s writings, trace his unbroken songs over forty years, and press upon these imprints of life—it always evokes a profound sense of reunion and encounter.
"Ask about my lifelong achievements—Huangzhou, Huizhou, Danzhou."
Huangzhou was pivotal in Su Shi’s life. At 43, having survived the storm of the "Wutai Poetry Case," he underwent profound spiritual growth in Huangzhou.
Without Huangzhou, Su Shi would not have become the Su Dongpo who shines through the ages in Chinese literary history.
01 No Huangzhou, No Dongpo
If life has seasons, Su Shi's years before the age of 43 were all spring.
After leaving Meishan, he achieved his ambition of rising to high positions. He passed the imperial examination at 21, enjoyed a smooth official career, held multiple local government posts, and was deeply loved by the people. He was both a capable official and a literary giant. Traveling across the land, his fame spread far and wide, and his writings were widely circulated, with every stroke of his pen "eagerly passed around and recited by the masses."
Until the Wutai Poetry Case occurred, directly plunging him from the clouds into the dust.
▲ Macheng Guifeng Mountain | Photographer: Zhou Gui ZZF
On the first day of the first lunar month in the third year of the Yuanfeng era, Su Shi, who had narrowly escaped death in the "Wutai Poetry Case," set off in fear for his secluded destination, Huangzhou, accompanied only by his eldest son, Su Mai.
The road ahead was rough, and the Huangzhou he was about to reach was a remote riverside town with dilapidated walls and extreme desolation. With no acquaintances, it was a completely unfamiliar place. How would he live after arriving?
We can imagine how distressed and terrified Su Shi must have been in the distant Northern Song Dynasty, under pressure and coercion. The gloom of his political downfall, the harsh natural conditions along the journey, and the broken-down inns and desolate temples where he stayed overnight all made it hard for him to sleep. "Looking back at the outskirts of Liang and Chu, forever cut off from the Central Plains"—a sense of desolation from being exiled a thousand miles away lingered in his heart.
However, when Su Shi saw the endless bamboo forests covering the mountains by the river outside Huangzhou and gazed down at the Yangtze, his disheartened mind suddenly sparked with hope: With so much bamboo here, the shoots must be fragrant and tender, and the river is full of fish—no worries about going hungry in the future.
▲ Dongshan Wenmei Village | Photographer: Shenhu Qiji Wang Zhenqiu
This was Huangzhou's charm—its mountains and rivers bestowed upon a disheartened man with a broken spirit everything he needed: hope.
Without hope, people lose heart.
And the countless mundane days of life in Huangzhou that followed continuously healed Su Shi, allowing him to undergo a spiritual transformation here and ultimately become the "Su Dongpo who brings a knowing smile to every Chinese person's face."
In today's fast-paced life, everything around us seems to be accelerating. Everyone craves victory, chases success, and is caught up in worldly busyness, interpersonal entanglements, confusion, and pain, driven by the toils and sorrows of life...
It’s as if we are trapped in a vast maze. Modern life appears to offer so many solutions, yet it often leaves people lost. "Fragility" has become a common trait of contemporary people. When faced with great adversity or setbacks in life, they often feel helpless, even trapped in extreme emotions with no way out.
▲ Luotian fishermen casting nets | Visual China
The lower we fall, the more we should look back and see how Su Dongpo in Huangzhou handled it.
When he first arrived in Huangzhou, he was still shaken. Seeing the shadow of a lone, distant swan goose, he lamented, "Startled, it turns its head—resentments unseen by any. It picks through cold branches, refusing to perch, lonely on the cold sandbar." Once, he came across a crabapple tree in Huangzhou, a sight only found in his hometown, and projected his feelings onto the flower, revealing the sorrow of being adrift at the ends of the earth.
Faced with life's darkest nights, some shatter, while others simply shrug and accept what comes.
He could bask in the acclaim of the world, yet also rejoice in Huangzhou as "gradually becoming unknown to others."
In Huangzhou, without a single acquaintance, he would wander the city daily, mingling with fishermen and woodcutters, skipping stones by the river to see who could throw farthest, resting in pavilions and asking locals to share stories, often sparking bursts of laughter. This quickly earned him a few close local friends.
▲ Qichun Yunwu Mountain Terraced Fields | Photographer: YFZ_PHOTOGRAPHY
He was a moonlit wanderer, often strolling by the river at night with a cane, gazing at the vast currents, listening to the roar of the waters, scattering his sorrows into nature. With his son Su Mai, he visited the Red Cliff at night, writing "Account of the Red Cliff": "Ten days before Mid-Autumn, the autumn floods swelled, stretching the waters for miles. The moon rose between the constellations Fang and Xin, amid boundless wind and dew... To the west, the valleys of Wuchang stood verdant, their towering trees merging with the clouds and sky..." This became his favorite spot for leisurely boating, inspiring his timeless masterpieces: one ci poem and two fu essays.
Pessoa said: "Each day you don’t like isn’t yours. You merely endure it. Whatever life you live without joy, you do not live at all."
Even when brought low, one must gaze at the stars. Even in hardship, one must live with fervor. In Huangzhou, a jug of wine, a piece of cake, a few yellow tangerines, a glimpse of plum blossoms, a mountain, a village, or a visiting friend—all brought him joy.
Life is ever-changing, the world’s path rugged. Faced with immense setbacks, Su Shi chose to set them aside, to let life go on, gritting his teeth: "The venomous ones are not to be feared." He acted, tackled immediate tasks, loved concrete things and people, using the world’s myriad wonders and small victories to soothe his pain.
Strapped for money, he reclaimed wasteland east of the city with his family—thus, Huangzhou gained a "Master of the Eastern Slope."
▲ Aerial View of Farmland in Huangmei County’s Wenmei Village | Visual China
In Huangzhou, he built his ideal home, naming it Snow Hall, boasting it rivaled Tao Yuanming’s "Slanting Stream": "West of Snow Hall, a hidden spring murmurs; the northern hill slopes, a small creek crosses. Southward, a pavilion-crowned mound rises, solitary and sublime."
A gourmand and lover of wine, he brewed honey wine in Huangzhou, delighting in it. He wrote of the "red rice" he ate there, how to cook fish, and his invention of vegetable broth... His "Ode to Pork" penned in Huangzhou gave us the now-famous Dongpo pork.
The clear breeze and bright moon over Huangzhou’s river, the clamor of the streets, the warmth of friends and family, and the unbroken parts of Su Shi’s heart—these sustained him through life’s trials.
By Yuanfeng 5 (1082), two years had passed since the terrifying Poetry Case of the Black Terrace. He sought solace in temples, roamed nearby lands, boated on the Red Cliff, immersed himself in nature, mingled with fishermen and woodcutters, composed poetry with old and new friends, and found joy in daily life.
On the 20th of the first lunar month that year, he visited old haunts with three Huangzhou friends to seek spring. After wine, he wrote: "People, like autumn geese, come with purpose; events, like spring dreams, leave no trace."
The early desolation of "forever cut off from the heartland" faded. Now, he wished only to gather at the same time each year, with the same friends, in the same place—to drink and write poetry. Such a life was enough.
▲ Yiai Lake Plum Garden | Photographer: Hemu
What finally broke him free was a chance encounter with rain on the 7th of the third lunar month.
"Listen not to the rain beating against the trees. Why not walk slowly and chant with ease?
Better than a saddled horse I like sandals and a cane. Oh, I would fain, in a straw cloak, spend my life in mist and rain.
Drunk, I am sobered by vernal wind shrill and rather chill. In front I see the slanting sun atop the hill."
"Looking back at the desolate place I came from, returning, there’s neither wind nor rain nor sunshine."
On this day, Su Shi passed through an unexpected spring rain. The rain washed over the leaves in the forest and also cleansed the long-accumulated gloom in his heart. Strolling leisurely in the heavy rain, his mind was clear and serene, untouched by sunshine, and thus indifferent to wind and rain—the past was all erased.
▲ Yi'ai Lake Art Museum | Photographer: CHENYU
Looking back at the desolate place, his heart was filled with the calm and lightness of "neither wind nor rain nor sunshine." The poem "Calming Wind and Waves" is truly a masterpiece of the ages, its rhythm resonating like a murmuring spring rain—peaceful, free, and serene, with boundless meaning hidden within.
Life’s triumphs and setbacks are like the weather: there are clear skies and torrential downpours, but they are merely experiences, fleeting as passing clouds. All the past is but a journey, unburdened by external things, unconcerned with temporary gains or losses—thus, nothing can defeat or destroy him.
The rivers, mountains, wind, and moon have no permanent master; the leisurely one is their owner.
Huangzhou may have been a remote and humble town, but infinite leisure, beautiful scenery, the poet’s sensitive imagination, his love for moonlit nights, his fondness for fine wine, and the company of family—all combined into something powerful, making Su Shi’s days joyful and comfortable.
What did Su Shi live for in Huangzhou? A sweet dream.
Lin Yutang once said that Su Dongpo lived a life as comfortable as an immortal in Huangzhou.
02 Fortunate to Have Huangzhou, Fortunate to Encounter Dongpo
Why should we turn to Su Dongpo in times of life’s disappointments?
Because he was an ancient man with a modern spirit. He endured all the hardships and setbacks we can imagine: career setbacks, immense inner loneliness and fear, betrayal by friends, financial struggles, the loss of loved ones, and life’s unavoidable turbulence—he seemed to embody the epitome of suffering and disappointment.
Yet, under such circumstances, he did not succumb to despair but instead dwelled poetically in Huangzhou.
He described Huangzhou so vividly and longingly. He wandered everywhere, recording all he saw in writing. Over 700 poems, essays, and letters allow later generations to touch the essence of a city across time, no longer relying solely on imagination.
He wrote of Huangzhou’s seasonal scenery, comparing it to the Peach Blossom Spring described by Tao Yuanming.
"Spring winds sway the river under a vast sky; evening clouds roll rain over graceful hills. Crimson maples and crows rest by the water; tall pines shed snow, startling drunken sleep. Peach blossoms and flowing streams exist in this world—must Wuling be the only home of immortals?"
▲ Snowscape of Yi'ai Lake | Photographer: CHENYU
The Lingao Pavilion, where he stayed, was originally a riverside post station. He wrote to Sima Guang, describing this dwelling: "Ten steps from the river, where wind, waves, mist, and rain change endlessly from dawn to dusk. The southern mountains lie within arm’s reach." In his notes, he added, "White clouds curl to the left, the green river bends to the right; gates stand wide open, and forests and peaks pour in."
He went on a nighttime boat excursion to the Red Cliff with friends, composing "The Red Cliff Ode" and "The Later Red Cliff Ode"—works so lofty, bold, ethereal, and moving.
"This is my life—one line of poetry after another."
Huangzhou is fortunate, immortalized by the poetry and prose of Su Shi.
▲ Luotian County by the Jiuzi River | Visual China
The Eastern Slope, used for farming, was originally a barren hillside outside Huangzhou. Yet in his words: "Rain washes the Eastern Slope, the moonlight pure; townsfolk depart, leaving the wild man alone. Don’t scorn the rugged path atop the slope—I love the clinking sound of my cane."
Huangzhou overlooks rivers and valleys, its roads lined with yellow mud. Muddy in rain, dusty in sun, Su Shi, after wine, wrote "The Song of Yellow Mud Slope," romanticizing this rustic path: "The mighty river swirls left in grandeur, vast clouds and waves unfurling. Layers of plants cling right, lush and verdant, crowning the wooded hill."
He visited Maqiao for treatment and, after recovery, toured Qishui with physician Pang Anchang. Drunk, they rested on an ordinary rural bridge. Amidst clear winds and bright moon, wild mountains lush, he penned these charming lines: "Shallow waves shimmer across the fields, faint clouds stretch across the sky. My steed, unbridled, prances proud—I long to sleep drunk on fragrant grass..."
▲ Dongpo Pork | Photographer @SLVY
The five years in Huangzhou were a rare period of stability in Su Shi’s turbulent life. Without Huangzhou, there would be no Su Dongpo of vast historical renown.
His writings always carry boundless vitality, as if he carried the cosmos with him.
▲ Red Cliff’s Erfu Hall | Photographer @Wang Zhubao
Nothing escapes his pen; everything holds beauty—a flower, a rainstorm, an unnamed rural bridge, a gathering, reclaiming wasteland, the river breeze on his face... "A Night Stroll at Chengtian Temple," just 83 characters, evokes serene moonlight in the heart.
Huangzhou healed Su Shi, and his works from Huangzhou healed generations after.
For the world, Su Shi and Huangzhou are a remedy.
03 Huangzhou Has Dongpo—May You Break Free
A millennium has passed; today’s Huangzhou is no longer the remote riverside town of the Northern Song.
To avoid floods, the Ming-Qing Huangzhou city shifted two miles north of its Song-era site.
Over five centuries, as Qihuang merged, Huangzhou shed its reputation as "the poorest and remotest between Jiang and Huai" (Zhu Xi) to become "a prosperous prefecture, illustrious in imperial exams," its grandeur surpassing the Song. By the Republic era, Huangzhou’s feudal governance ended.
▲ Huanggang Streetscape | Photographer @Haozi
Later, though regional offices were based here, they used "East Hubei" or "Huanggang," not "Huangzhou."
Post-1949, in January 1991, Huanggang County became Huangzhou City (same boundaries). In May 1996, Huanggang Prefecture became Huanggang City, with Huangzhou District and Tuanfeng County carved out.
Strolling Huangzhou today, we may lack Su Shi’s brilliance, but with his verses in hand, we can travel back, feeling the ancient winds, hearing the river’s roar, finding poetry in ordinary life.
▲ Aerial view of Huanggang city | Photographer: Shawn FPV
Visit the ruins of Lingao Pavilion to trace Su Shi's footsteps, explore the site of Chengtian Temple where "Huaimin was also still awake," and stroll leisurely through Yiai Lake, sharing the same moon with Su Dongpo. This is Huangzhou's urban living room and a gift from its people to the great poet across a millennium.
When Su Shi departed, the elders of Huangzhou bid him farewell with drums and horns across the river. Today, Huangzhou commemorates him with Yiai Lake.
▲ Tianzhai Scenic Area in Luotian County | Visual China
Wander through Anguo Temple and its academy, walk the Huangni Slope Road hailed as China's greatest literary path, and visit the Red Cliff of Dongpo. Though the scene of "jagged rocks piercing the sky, furious waves crashing on the shore, rolling up a thousand heaps of snow" from Su Shi's time is gone, the moon you gaze upon is the same one he saw.
▲ Red Cliff in Huangzhou | Visual China
Today, the Yangtze River still flows through Huangzhou, with the same moon and breeze over its waters.
In 1081, with the help of local friends, Su Shi and his family reclaimed the Eastern Slope and planted wheat. Now, 944 years later, this seemingly long span is merely 944 harvests on that slope and countless moonrises over the river.
In moments of despair, we often ask: What is the meaning of life? In truth, life offers no inherent meaning—it is countless tiny, concrete moments. Love life itself more than its meaning.
In Huangzhou, Su Shi showed how one overcomes adversity: even when life is unkind, choose to live it in a way that brings joy.
▲ 2025 Hubei Dragon Boat Open (Huanggang Station) | Photographer: Shawn FPV
Huangzhou was his place of enlightenment—the river, the moon, the vast eternal sky, and the fleeting individual.
"We are but mayflies in the universe, tiny specks in a vast ocean. I lament life’s brevity, envy the Yangtze’s endless flow... Knowing such joys are fleeting, I entrust my lament to the mournful wind."
It reminds us how brief and small life is in the grand river of time. We are mere passersby; our greatest sorrows and struggles pale before the immensity of the world.
So let go of gains and losses. Be lighter, freer, and live this fleeting life on your own terms.
"Who says life’s prime cannot return? The stream before my door still flows west! Do not sing of white hair and the golden rooster."
▲ Bagua Well Street, Huangzhou’s most beautiful avenue | Photographer: Xiao Luo
It tells us not to drown in sorrow. Life has peaks and valleys; no matter the circumstances, find beauty—it’s the key to navigating the fog.
"A year is but a dream; a century, a passing guest."
It reminds us that every day between birth and death is ours. To love life is to embrace its truth wholly and live a story worth remembering.
When we pass through 944 harvests of wheat and look back at Huangzhou and Su Dongpo once more, we will understand that his poetry, calligraphy, and paintings are not merely depictions of Huangzhou's scenery but also infused with his ultimate reflections on life.
So, what exactly is Huangzhou in Su Dongpo's writings?
[1] Lin Yutang. The Gay Genius: The Life and Times of Su Tungpo [M]. Translated by Zhang Zhenyu. Hunan Literature and Art Publishing House, 2016.
[2] Zhu Gang. Ten Lectures on Su Shi [M]. Shanghai Joint Publishing, 2019.
[3] Li Yibing. A New Biography of Su Dongpo [M]. Sichuan People's Publishing House, 2020.
[4] Zhang Wei. The Colorful Chronicles [M]. People's Literature Publishing House, 2020.
[5] Huangzhou's "Su Shi Circle" and "Research on Dongpo's Residence in Huangzhou" [N]. Hubei Daily, 2024.
[6] Guo Xingfang. Su Dongpo's Spiritual Personality and Its Modern Significance—A Study Focusing on His Huangzhou Period [C]. The 23rd Chinese Su Shi Academic Symposium, 2019.
[7] Liu Han, Li Jingyan. The Pure Joy of Life: Su Dongpo's Daily Diet [J]. Journal of Zhongzhou University, 2024.
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