中南海（下）：习近平的家 与 海里的众生 | 菊香书屋 | 202 别墅 | 瀛台 | 纯一斋 | 丰泽园 | 玉泉山 ｜新闻大写20250926

Do you want it or not?

Hurry up!

Six sixes—boom!

Damn, I already had four sixes in my hand.

Where’d you even find six of them?

Do you even know how to play Guandan? It’s played with two decks.

Who the hell’s barking in the middle of the night?

Lord Buddha, four plus four is eight.

Nobody’s under the bed… just some wheat.

Cheating? I’ll kill you! Gou Sheng, get him!

Nobody here either.

I’m the Lord Buddha of the universe. Me grabbing two more sixes is normal. Who the hell are you cursing?

I’ll kill you!

Come on then, let’s see who kills who tonight.

Who the hell are you people? Listening to your emperor’s bed at night?

General Secretary, uh… we were just passing by, you believe that?

On the surface, Zhongnanhai looks solemn.

It’s the highest, most sacred authority in China.

But behind this seat of power lies a hidden world outsiders never see.

Last episode we looked at the “hardware” of Zhongnanhai.

Today, let’s step into its “software.”

Stories about the people inside the Red Walls running China’s affairs.

Our story spans over half a century.

From Mao’s indulgent private playground to the reform era when the gates briefly opened, only to shut again, to Xi Jinping’s era of hidden currents under heavy walls.

We’ll reveal the power struggles and lives inside Zhongnanhai.

Last time, we said that in 1949 Mao moved into Juxiang Book House in Fengze Garden.

It was a quiet, elegant courtyard home.

Mao made it the Mao family base.

But Mao loved tossing things around.

In 1966, right before the Cultural Revolution, he suddenly moved out of his beloved Juxiang Book House to somewhere nobody expected.

Right next to Huiren Hall, a 4,000-square-meter indoor heated swimming pool built for him.

The move was sudden.

Even his staff were dumbfounded.

What triggered the move?

According to his secretary Zhang Yufeng, it was rage over unauthorized renovations.

In July 1966, after a trip, Mao came back.

He found that without his permission, they’d added a two-story glass corridor to the main house.

Mao blew up, calling it a waste of the people’s sweat and blood.

He ordered, “No more renovations without my approval.”

Then he stormed off, swearing never to step inside Juxiang again.

That very night he moved into the bigger, fancier indoor pool right by Huiren Hall.

He spent the last decade of his life holed up there.

Of course, waste wasn’t the real reason.

By my rough count, Mao built over ten lavish residences.

Each one was extravagant beyond measure.

The real reason?

He already had a room in the pool house waiting.

Engineer Tian Henggui recalled in his memoirs that before Mao moved in, they had already built a room for him in the southeast corner.

He sometimes stayed there overnight before 1966.

So he was already used to the place.

Now let’s take a look at the indoor pool.

In 1954, work began on it.

It was designed by the Central Architectural Design Institute.

Built by Beijing’s Fifth Construction Company.

It stayed warm year-round.

Beside it, they also built an outdoor pool just for Mao.

In 1966, after he moved in, he transformed the place.

It became his secret home and office.

He lined the poolside with bookshelves and sofas, turning the hall into a study and reception room.

Mao made a rule: no one, not even Jiang Qing, was allowed to step inside without permission.

His meals were still cooked at Juxiang’s small kitchen and delivered to the pool on time.

In 1974, the staff built a two-story villa next to the pool, codenamed “202.”

When it was being built, Mao did what he did back when he first moved in.

He said, “I don’t want it,” but when Wang Dongxing went ahead, he didn’t object.

Later, commissar Yang Dezhong revealed that at first Mao opposed the idea, saying he wouldn’t move back to Fengze Garden or build elsewhere.

But somehow, the new villa got built anyway.

The “202 Villa” was quake-proof, bullet-proof, even nuclear-proof.

The guards screened all the workers, day and night.

When finished, they tested everything for safety.

Inside was a big living room, bedroom, and study.

It even had a secret hallway connecting to the pool.

So Mao could go back and forth anytime.

It was finished in late 1974, but Mao didn’t move in right away.

Not living there didn’t mean not using it.

According to Zhang Yufeng, in 1975 she accompanied Mao to watch movies there many times.

She had been reassigned to Mao’s side after he moved to the pool.

Before that, she was a train attendant on Mao’s special train at just 22 years old in 1966.

Mao happened to notice this shy, innocent girl from the northeast.

He specifically asked her name.

Afterwards, Mao mentioned her to Wang Dongxing.

Wang, then head of the Central Guard Bureau, immediately got the hint.

Soon he transferred her into Zhongnanhai to serve Mao personally.

Mao nodded in approval, and from then on Zhang Yufeng became his personal attendant.

In July 1970, Zhang was suddenly told to report to Zhongnanhai.

Deputy director Zhang Yaochi and Mao’s head nurse Wu Xujun welcomed her at the gate.

They bluntly asked if she’d serve at Mao’s side.

Zhang was overwhelmed—how could she refuse?

She quickly said “yes, I do.” At 25, she stepped into the Red Walls.

She became Mao’s personal life secretary.

Later, she was even trusted as his confidential secretary, handling files and telegrams. She even kept the key to the safe in his bedroom.

From a train attendant to the very core of Zhongnanhai.

Mao’s private playground wasn’t just pools and villas.

He loved dancing too, and always picked young, pretty partners.

Back in Yan’an, Mao learned ballroom dancing from Agnes Smedley and actress Jiang Qing.

In the 1950s, after the PRC was founded, banquets often included song and dance.

Mao often joined in.

By the late 1950s, during the famine, Mao simply held private dances inside Zhongnanhai.

At first, they were in Chunou Zhai, a lakeside pavilion in Fengze Garden.

It was transformed into the leader’s private ballroom.

To let Mao dance properly, they renovated it.

The uneven stone floor was replaced with springy wood.

They built a terrace with white stone railings.

Chandeliers and sound systems hung from the dome.

At first, dances were weekly.

Then twice a week.

On dance nights, jeeps from Zhongnanhai would fetch girls from performance troupes.

Young, beautiful actresses.

They danced with Mao and other leaders.

Partners had to be politically reliable.

Screening was strict.

Most were just 17 or 18.

Next to Chunou Zhai, they built a lounge with a bed.

During the dances, Mao often pulled girls inside.

Sometimes half an hour, sometimes an hour.

Since this sounds too much like spying on the bed, let me just quote Li Zhisui directly.

Chunou Zhai was repainted and remodeled.

In the meantime, dances moved to Huiren Hall’s north hall.

Afterwards, back to Chunou Zhai.

They added a lounge with a bed.

I was still present at every dance.

Often at the height of the evening, everyone could see Mao pulling a girl inside, staying there half an hour, sometimes more than an hour.

That’s the account.

Don’t agree? Take it up with Li Zhisui.

Inside the Red Walls, cadres mostly stayed silent.

But in private, they complained.

Mao preached austerity in public.

But inside, his indulgence outshone emperors of old.

He enjoyed more than any dynasty’s rulers ever did.

Wang Gousheng, your family’s starving to death.

Tell us—where’s that half a pancake your family’s been saving?

Director Zhang, my half a pancake is… is… is… is… Gousheng! Gousheng!

Gousheng! Gousheng!

Don’t die, Gousheng!

Heh heh, time for some good food.

Today, Gousheng tastes great.

What the hell is this?

So hard on the teeth.

Chairman, bad news!

Tens of thousands just starved in Henan.

Such a trivial matter. Can’t you see I’m busy?

Go clap for me downstairs.

Now it’s 1976.

Mao’s life was nearing its end.

Inside the Red Walls, panic filled the air.

At dawn on July 28, a massive earthquake struck Tangshan.

Beijing shook violently.

The Red Walls of Zhongnanhai trembled.

The pool’s windows rattled.

The chandelier in Mao’s bedroom swung wildly.

By then Mao was bedridden and couldn’t move.

Nurses shouted, “Protect the Chairman!”

A staffer rushed forward, shielding Mao’s head with his body.

He pulled a sheet over him too, fearing the beams might fall.

Luckily, the shaking stopped after seconds.

Mao and those around him were unharmed.

At daybreak, people discovered the quake had damaged many walls and buildings inside Zhongnanhai.

Part of Dongbansuo’s wall and sections of the Red Walls had cracked and collapsed.

With aftershocks continuing, and Villa 202 being the safest against quakes, they immediately decided to rush Mao there on a stretcher for shelter.

So on the fourth day after the Tangshan quake, Mao was carried into Villa 202.

On the 43rd day there, at 12:10 a.m., September 9, 1976, Zhang Yufeng watched Mao’s monitor flatline—he was gone.

He was 82.

Mao Zedong passed away in Villa 202.

With his death, storms erupted inside the Red Walls.

His body still lay in bed, when Jiang Qing rushed in first.

She tried to take control.

She frantically rummaged through Mao’s files.

She barked at Zhang Yufeng to open the safe.

Pulled out folders for her to read.

She even seized two confidential speeches Mao had drafted.

Meanwhile, Mao’s nephew Mao Yuanxin kept coming in and out.

He too eyed the documents greedily.

Hoping to find instructions that would help him shape succession.

Wang Dongxing, long wary of Jiang Qing’s clique, rushed back to Zhongnanhai.

He stormed into the pool hall, ordering guards to seal the files.

So even before Mao’s body cooled, daggers were already drawn inside the Red Walls.

Less than a month later, on October 6, 1976, just past 5 p.m.,

Wang held a secret meeting in Dongbansuo’s conference room.

They planned to arrest Jiang Qing that very night.

That evening, Wang, Hua Guofeng, and Ye Jianying struck together—capturing the Gang of Four.

With Mao’s death, their era ended with a crash.

China stumbled toward a new, unknown dawn.

As for Zhang Yufeng, she remained safe afterward.

She retired peacefully and lived long, later opening Mao-themed restaurants in Beijing.

This September 9th, on Mao’s 49th death anniversary, she appeared with her family at Mao’s memorial hall.

She gazed through the crystal coffin and wept.

This once-obscure insider now bowed with white hair before her old leader.

It felt like another lifetime.

History’s wheel kept turning.

Inside the Red Walls, joy and sorrow repeat in cycles.

After Mao’s era, there was a brief period of openness.

After 1978, Deng Xiaoping took power.

He and Hu Yaobang disliked Mao’s imperial secrecy.

They wanted the Red Walls closer to the people.

At the end of 1978, Hu suggested opening Zhongnanhai and the Great Hall.

He said central organs shouldn’t be too mysterious, but meet the masses.

Deng Xiaoping backed the idea.

Hu began implementing soon after.

From May 1980, groups could book visits to Zhongnanhai.

Cadres and citizens in Beijing toured inside.

On May Day 1981, Huiren Hall opened to the public for a performance.

By 1982, Zhongnanhai opened nationwide.

On weekends and holidays, visitors with tickets could enter from No. 81 South Chang’an Street.

The people’s visit became a sensation.

Imagine hearing today that China’s leaders had changed, and you could buy Zhongnanhai tickets online.

Wouldn’t you feel thrilled, full of hope?

Back then, people felt the same.

Old photos restored today were mostly taken in that era.

The Red Walls seemed less secret.

They became open, transparent like never before.

But it didn’t last.

In 1987, Hu Yaobang fell, and openness ended.

In 1989, Tiananmen crushed reformist dreams. That spring, protests surged in Beijing.

Outside Zhongnanhai, crowds gathered.

On April 19th night, thousands marched to Xinhua Gate.

They shouted, “Li Peng, come out!”

Their roar shook Chang’an Avenue.

Traffic was blocked.

The angry crowd shoved the heavy red doors.

They forced them open a crack.

Through it, they saw a huge wall inscribed “Serve the People.”

And guards straining to push the doors shut.

Crowds and guards were nearly face to face.

Past 11 p.m., suddenly, armed soldiers rushed out.

They rammed the crowd, clearing the square.

They carved out an empty zone.

The sea of people was split in two.

But cries for Li Peng still echoed.

Then soldiers locked arms in human walls.

People sat down, facing off with the troops.

Student leader Wuerkaixi gave a speech, leading red songs.

The authorities’ patience soon ran out.

And so events escalated.

At 3:45 a.m., loudspeakers inside Xinhua Gate blasted a stern government notice.

It warned: blocking Xinhua Gate is illegal, disperse immediately or face consequences.

Before the message finished, more troops rushed in from the east.

Around 4 a.m., soldiers again charged out of Xinhua Gate.

They joined reinforcements and swung batons, forcing eastward.

In seconds, screams rang out—the sit-in crowd scattered like a bursting dam.

Soldiers chased and beat anyone in sight.

They drove the remaining crowd all the way off Chang’an Avenue.

After this bloody night, debris was left outside Xinhua Gate, and fear lingered deep inside Zhongnanhai.

It was the first time since 1949 that Xinhua Gate was stormed.

And the first time the Party used troops at its own front door.

Leaders inside the Red Walls broke into cold sweat.

From then, the gates of openness slammed shut.

After June Fourth, political repression fully returned.

Zhongnanhai shifted from relaxed to fortress-like.

The era of open visits was gone.

After June Fourth in 1989, the younger Jiang Zemin was put in charge.

He became China’s top leader.

He restored the tradition of leaders living and working inside Zhongnanhai.

The Red Walls welcomed a new master.

Jiang had wide interests.

From music and opera to foreign languages, he excelled.

In November 1993, after his first foreign trip as President, he sang “A Lovely Rose” on the plane home.

From then, the singing General Secretary became his image.

A lovely rose.

A lovely rose.

Jiang also loved swimming like Mao.

He often swam in Zhongnanhai’s outdoor pool.

He even encouraged other leaders to join.

Every week, they swam and chatted together.

During Jiang’s era, Zhongnanhai underwent large renovations.

Many historic buildings were restored.

New modern offices were also built.

To house the expanding central bureaucracy.

Jiang’s time made work inside the Red Walls more routine.

Politburo members each had their duties.

Meetings ran on schedule.

Gone was Mao’s one-man rule.

And his dramatic aura.

Still, Jiang was no recluse.

On weekends, he often stayed at Yuquan Hill retreat.

He had his own way of using old sites.

One stage was Yingtai.

In 1993, Jiang revived Hanyuan Hall as a banquet hall for state visits.

Xinhua even ran stories on it.

From then, Yingtai became a key diplomatic stage.

Jiang liked hosting there.

He welcomed foreign guests and cultural figures.

Creating a semi-formal, homely vibe.

In Sept 1995, he hosted HP founder David Packard’s family there.

After the meeting, they dined at Penglai Pavilion by the lake.

After dinner, Jiang wasn’t done.

He ordered the lakeside doors opened to enjoy the moon with Packard.

In 2001, the Three Tenors sang in the Forbidden City.

The next day, Jiang hosted them at Yingtai.

He even sang “O Sole Mio” with Pavarotti.

At the 16th Party Congress in 2002, Jiang stepped down.

But he didn’t fully leave.

He stayed on as military chief.

So he kept influence, joking and chatting from behind the scenes.

On March 15, 2003, Jiang formally left as Party leader.

Zhongnanhai should have gone to Hu Jintao.

Yes, Jiang gave back his residence.

But after two months in Shanghai, in May 2003, Jiang returned to Beijing.

He and his team moved into Yuquan Hill.

Yuquan Hill bustled ever since.

Hu was supposed to live in Zhongnanhai.

But only in theory.

Hu knew Jiang was still military chief.

Jiang still held the sword.

So cautious Hu quickly secured housing at Yuquan Hill too.

Five months after Jiang moved there, Hu also shifted from Zhongnanhai to a Yuquan Hill villa.

The two became neighbors.

The old Qing royal garden, long quiet after 1949, now housed two leaders at once.

It became a new power hub.

Yuquan Hill was called a second Zhongnanhai.

There were now two cores— Zhongnanhai for work, Yuquan Hill for living.

In Beijing’s west, one hill held two tigers.

After Jiang left the military in Sept 2004, Hu Jintao at Zhongnanhai hosted more events.

He likely moved back quietly.

In 2005, as Party leader, Hu invited Taiwan’s Lien Chan and James Soong to visit.

He hosted them at Yingtai.

It was the first cross-strait handshake.

In 2011, he even invited an American school group to tour Yingtai.

He personally showed the kids around.

They had tea and talks at Yingxun Pavilion.

He even happily showed off his calligraphy on the spot.

But overall, Hu Jintao’s days in Zhongnanhai were neither stormy like Mao’s nor colorful like Jiang’s.

Yet it was this steadiness that in turbulent times kept China’s development on track.

At the end of 2012, Xi Jinping rose to the top.

When Xi first took power, he seemed to follow Jiang’s style— a monarch-like but people-friendly diplomacy.

He often, as host, invited foreign leaders into Zhongnanhai.

In a relaxed setting, he built personal rapport.

Most famously, in November 2014, Xi did something rare at Yingtai: he strolled at night with U.S. President Obama.

They walked side by side across a small bridge.

They talked closely—this “Yingtai Night Chat” became legendary.

That night, they shook hands in front of Hanyuan Hall.

Then walked shoulder to shoulder across the moonlit bridge.

Xi, in high spirits, pointed to Hanyuan Hall behind them, joking: “That’s where I usually work.”

Obama smiled and replied, “I often walk at the White House too, but sadly, our garden isn’t this big.”

At the end, staff offered an electric cart.

But both Xi and Obama declined, choosing to finish the walk on foot.

Their chat went so well that a 9 p.m. event stretched to 11.

When they parted over tea, Obama said: “Tonight I gained my most complete insight into the Party’s history and governance ideas, and into your thinking.”

The quiet Yingtai night, together with a dialogue between the world’s two biggest powers, put this small island into diplomatic history.

Yet Yingtai was only the first chapter.

By the late 2010s, Xi shifted his base in Zhongnanhai.

From the island of Yingtai to Fengze Garden on solid ground.

There was hidden but clear logic behind this move.

First came security concerns.

Yingtai was surrounded by water, with only one bridge.

In emergencies, evacuation routes were limited.

It was far less safe than the mainland.

In contrast, Fengze’s northwest corner was backed by compounds and a road network.

It had more space for expansion and flexible security.

Underground tunnels also linked Fengze Garden to many routes.

A ready emergency fallback.

In risk models, multiple paths and depth were stronger than a single node on water.

Second, practical limits of Yingtai.

Its buildings were old Qing wood and stone.

Their size and load capacity couldn’t meet modern office needs.

Living there full-time cramped communications, security, logistics.

It couldn’t be fortified against explosions or attacks.

On land at Fengze Garden, they could build new facilities as needed.

Satellite images studied by Gou Sheng’s team showed that around 2019, a new 500-square-meter building appeared in Fengze’s northwest.

At the same time, west of Zhongnanhai along Fuyou Street, old housing was cleared for new small gray-and-red buildings.

They lined up two or three stories tall.

With high walls and electric fences, parallel to Zhongnanhai’s west wall.

It was like building a second invisible barrier.

At the time, few knew the purpose.

Looking back, it was likely prep for Xi’s move from Yingtai.

It expanded the buffer zone and provided housing support.

Politically too, the choice carried symbolic weight.

Picking Fengze Garden as his new base was full of meaning.

It was here that Mao made Zhongnanhai his home.

Here, Mao launched his red empire.

Later leaders either stayed briefly or lived elsewhere.

Some didn’t live there at all.

Xi’s return to Fengze Garden made him the second leader after Mao to live there long-term.

It was like declaring he inherited Mao’s mantle.

He was the second “red sun” after Mao.

Moving is a must, moving is a must!

General Secretary, stop messing around, okay?

I really saw it.

You must’ve been half-asleep.

There were four people playing cards under my floor!

Pingping was scared to death.

I’m not making it up!

Please, believe me!

Alright, alright, let’s not argue.

I’ll buy you a purse later, okay?

I don’t want it, I don’t want it!

I don’t want a purse.

I just want to move! Move!

Alright, alright, let’s move then.

Sigh, the kid is just under too much stress.

Online rumors said Xi quietly left Yingtai around 2020.

But it was never officially confirmed.

What truly confirmed it was a meeting in the summer of 2025.

That was when Belarusian President Lukashenko visited China.

Xi did not follow tradition by inviting his old friend to Yingtai.

Instead, he chose Chunyi Zhai in Fengze Garden’s northwest.

Footage from the meeting showed the two chatting under elegant eaves.

Xi smiled and said, “My office is right next door.

This is my first time receiving you here.”

That casual remark was actually a declaration: the leader’s office and reception center had shifted from Yingtai to Fengze Garden.

Sure enough, Xi soon met the 11th Panchen Lama at the same spot.

Two high-level meetings in Chunyi Zhai made it clear it replaced Yingtai.

Xi had returned to Mao’s old Fengze Garden.

Of course, like past leaders, Xi doesn’t sleep in the compound every night.

Back when he was Vice President, he already had a villa at Yuquan Mountain in Beijing’s west.

During holidays like Spring Festival, he often stayed there.

But Fengze Garden is without doubt his main residence.

Beyond the grand narratives, daily life in Zhongnanhai is full of vivid human stories.

Families, too, are an unmissable part.

Leaders’ wives and children often had the privilege of living inside.

In the 1950s, when Beijing lacked housing, many cadres’ families were placed in Zhongnanhai.

At that time, the compound looked like a dorm for top officials.

Founding leaders’ kids grew up together inside.

In 1952, five two-story buildings were built inside Zhongnanhai.

Named A, B, C, D, and E.

For leaders’ families to live in.

Liu Shaoqi’s and Zhu De’s families moved into Buildings A and B.

Soon their kids became playmates.

Zhu De’s grandson Zhu Yuanchao once drew maps during class.

The teacher confiscated them and handed them to security.

They showed routes from Zhongnanhai’s west gate to the Liu and Zhu family homes.

Every building and guard post was marked clearly.

Even distances were written.

The guards were terrified.

They thought the boy had been recruited by spies.

He was interrogated that night—only then did they realize the truth.

Zhu drew the map just so Bo Yibo’s son, Bo Xicheng, could find his way when visiting their homes.

At the time, Bo’s family lived outside, at No.71 Xinkai Road Hutong, Dongcheng District.

at No.71 Xinkai Road Hutong, Dongcheng District.

Many wonder if Bo Xilai and Xi Jinping played together in Zhongnanhai as kids.

The answer: very likely, yes.

In January 1953, Xi Zhongxun moved to Beijing for work.

His family moved into Zhongnanhai.

According to Qin Youyou, who lived there too, the Xi family lived by the west gate, north side, in a courtyard.

It was a big north-facing house.

Simple, with just two small trees.

So Xi likely spent a few childhood years living in Zhongnanhai with his father.

Back then, in the kids’ circle inside, there were Bo’s sons like Bo Xicheng, Liu Shaoqi’s son Liu Yuan, and young Xi Jinping.

Xi was the same age as Bo’s fourth son, Bo Xining.

While Bo Xilai and Bo Xicheng were two and four years older.

But that peace didn’t last.

In 1962, Xi Zhongxun was purged over the novel *Liu Zhidan*.

He was accused of forming an anti-Party clique.

Losing his father’s protection, Xi left Zhongnanhai around that time.

During the Cultural Revolution, these princelings all suffered.

Liu Yuan and Bo Xilai were denounced and sent to the countryside.

History was harsh—their childhood bond led to very different destinies later.

Liu Yuan rose steadily in the army.

Bo Xilai, once powerful, ended up in prison.

Xi, late bloomer, reached the very top.

Worth noting: Liu Yuan and Xi stayed close.

Xi relied on him as a trusted princeling in the army.

In 2011, Liu led the corruption probe into General Gu Junshan.

Vice Chairman Xi strongly supported it.

That case became Xi’s first big anti-graft move.

We even made a full episode on it, called *Xi Jinping’s Decade of Military Reform and Power Struggles*.

You can check out that story.

Though Zhongnanhai offered good perks, it was, above all, China’s top power hub.

The living quarters were secondary.

Once leaders step down, they’re supposed to move out.

This tradition was mostly understood and followed by officials’ families.

Many widows, after their husbands passed, would voluntarily give up their Zhongnanhai homes.

No need for persuasion from the staff.

They moved into courtyard houses or villas near Fragrant Hills.

To live out their years.

But inside Zhongnanhai, there were always a few special “nail house” families.

Widows and relatives of founding fathers.

For decades they clung to their assigned courtyards.

No persuasion could make them leave.

The Party’s leaders often had much younger wives.

These women were younger, well connected, and influential.

After their husbands died, they still visited each other inside the compound.

Forming a small but powerful circle.

For example, Zhou Enlai’s wife Deng Yingchao always lived in the West Flower Hall.

Even after Zhou died, she stayed there until 1990.

Leadership changes hardly affected these elder women.

They had the aura of founding fathers’ wives.

So new leaders often looked the other way.

Why make enemies? There weren’t many of them, and they were elderly anyway.

In 1998, Zhu Rongji became Premier.

This tough reformer showed resolve to put Zhongnanhai in order right from the start.

At that time, the State Council was undergoing a leadership transition.

Two months after Zhu took office, the Central Office drafted a plan to reorganize the North District.

The key points: First, reclaim offices of retired State Council leaders.

Second, reclaim the mansion of late Li Xiannian, where his widow Lin Jiamei and family still lived.

It was to become Zhu Rongji’s new office.

That house was built in the late 1970s by Wang Dongxing for then-leader Hua Guofeng.

Located in Zhongnanhai’s northern core.

After Hua stepped down, Li Xiannian swapped his old home on Nanchenggen Street.

And moved into Hua’s mansion.

After Li’s death in 1992, his family was supposed to vacate.

But Lin Jiamei refused to move.

Living there as if it were her right.

When news spread that Zhu wanted her out, it caused a stir inside Zhongnanhai.

But the plan was never carried out.

Even Zhu Rongji couldn’t evict Lin Jiamei.

In the end, he couldn’t move into her courtyard.

Instead, he settled for Li Peng’s old office.

After 2013, Xi Jinping cracked down on officials’ privileges.

He also pushed to reclaim housing from retired cadres.

No exceptions, no blind spots.

The PLA Daily praised widows of founding generals who voluntarily gave up their Zhongnanhai homes.

People started talking again.

Everyone looked to the oldest holdout, Lin Jiamei.

Her stubbornness put leaders in a bind.

Forcing a 96-year-old widow out could spark outrage.

If she accused the new leader of being heartless, it’d be messy.

But letting her stay meant the new rules were pointless.

What would that say about Xi’s authority?

Staff visited her several times, but she slammed the door on them.

By 2014, overseas Chinese media were buzzing about Lin Jiamei’s refusal to move.

Later reports suggested she quietly moved out due to poor health.

And that ended the “overstaying widow” phenomenon.

No more widows occupying Zhongnanhai homes beyond their time.

Time passes, one story ends, another begins.

From Mao settling in Juxiang Book House, to Xi rebuilding in Fengze Garden, Zhongnanhai has seen 70 years of upheaval.

It once sold tickets, and it once drove people away with guards.

The pool water stayed warm year-round.

But the masters kept changing.

Juxiang Book House, Chun’ou Zhai, Villa 202, Yingtai night talks… Finally Chunyi Zhai—different stages, same theater.

New actors, new scripts.

Yet the red wall with “Serve the People” still stands.

The people outside can never enter.

They glimpse history only through cracks in the gate.

Gousheng, these last two episodes weren’t bad.

Heh, I still haven’t done the ending.

Then I’ll head out first.

Wait, you’re not actually a spy sent by Xi, are you?

No way. I curse Xi every day.

How could I be a spy?

Don’t believe me? I’ll curse him right now.

Kidding! No need to curse, haha.

Alright, I’ll go wrap up the episode. Go on.

That scared me.

I almost got exposed.