Going to Nanjing on a Typhoon Day, Walking Into the Underground of a City

Tue, 11 Aug 2026 23:25:11 +0800

There was a typhoon in Shanghai over the weekend. When we headed out in the morning, the wind and rain hadn’t yet reached the point where walking became difficult, so we stuck to our original plan and took the high-speed train to Nanjing for a day trip. The itinerary was arranged by my wife—there was no mission to check off a bunch of tourist spots; it was just a leisurely stroll.

The benefit of this arrangement is that the city reveals a bit of its own character.

The library in Nanjing left me with a rather good first impression. You didn’t need to swipe a card to get in, and there was no sense of “this place isn’t meant for you.” Dropping into a library by chance while traveling is a bit different from visiting a famous attraction: there’s no rush to take photos, and no set route to follow. When you sit down, the city suddenly shifts from being a place-name on a map to a place where people actually live their lives.

Dinner was a bit of a letdown. I had been looking forward to the roast duck, but when it was served I realized it wasn’t the crispy-skinned roast duck I had in mind. Not that it was bad—it’s just that taste is hard to explain; my expectations had already sat down at the table before the food did. I still find myself thinking more about the roast goose back in Shenzhen: the skin should be a bit crispier, the richness of the fat a bit more direct. It’s not a bad thing to eat something that doesn’t quite suit your taste when traveling—at the very least, you won’t keep building it up in your imagination afterward.

What surprised me the most was the way to get around downtown Nanjing. Near Xinjiekou, one subway exit follows another, and it feels like you can never quite finish walking through them. I later found out that this station has at least twenty-four numbered exits. There isn’t always a convenient crosswalk on the surface; to get to the opposite side, you often have to go down underground first and come back up from another exit.

At first it feels a bit strange, but after walking around a while it begins to seem reasonable. Above ground there are streams of traffic, streams of people, and intersections; underground, it feels like another layer of the city: malls, subways, passageways, and exits all connect with one another. You think you’re just crossing a street, but in reality you’re winding your way through a very large indoor system. This is especially true on rainy days, when the underground space feels like an umbrella the city has handed you.

Deji Plaza is also part of this system. Inside are the familiar luxury stores, and since I am not their target customer, walking through them feels a bit like window shopping. What left a deeper impression was the restroom that everyone keeps talking about inside the mall. Some say it cost tens of millions; I have no way to verify whether that’s true. But the fact that they turned a restroom into a destination worth a special visit shows, at the very least, that the mall knows how to give itself an entry point that people will talk about and spread.

This reminds me of Changsha’s IFC (International Finance Center). Whenever I look at the luxury floors there, I don’t see many people actually browsing seriously; everyone seems to just pass through on their way upstairs to eat. What really keeps people around in a mall isn’t necessarily the most expensive things. It might be a meal, a corner where it’s easy to sit down, or a restroom that people want to photograph and tell their friends about.

This trip to Nanjing didn’t involve any particularly dramatic projects: setting off against a typhoon, walking a bit, visiting a library, having a meal of Peking duck that wasn’t entirely satisfying, and shuttling back and forth underground. But after returning, the things I remember most clearly are precisely these details that weren’t featured at the top of any travel guide.

A city is sometimes remembered not by its landmarks. It hides itself in exit numbers, in a stretch of pedestrian tunnel, and in places where you never intended to stop.

References

Public Reply from Nanjing Municipal Government on Exit 24 of Xinjiekou Subway Station, verified on 2026-08-11.

写作附记

Original Prompt

Last weekend, a typhoon made landfall in Shanghai. Early in the morning, braving the typhoon, I took the high-speed train to Nanjing. The itinerary was arranged by my wife—a leisurely trip. In Nanjing, you can enter the library without swiping a card. The roast duck wasn’t as good as expected; it wasn’t the crispy-skinned kind. Shenzhen’s roast goose is still better. What impressed me the most was the city center of Nanjing: the subway exit has nearly thirty exits, with no crosswalks on the ground—you have to go underground to get anywhere. There’s also a Deji Plaza, full of luxury goods. Logically speaking, ordinary folks don’t really shop at a mall like this, but they’ve built a所谓的 multi-million-dollar restroom to draw traffic—quite an unconventional approach. Changsha’s Guojin, the two floors of luxury goods, people don’t really shop there either—they go straight upstairs to eat.

City Roaming on Uncle Xiang's Notebook

Going to Nanjing on a Typhoon Day, Walking Into the Underground of a City

References

Original Prompt