The Peculiar Charm of Beijing’s Place Names

Walk through Beijing, and you’ll encounter names like Yingjiafen (英家坟, “Ying Family Graveyard”), Gongzhufen (公主坟, “Princess Graveyard”), or Jiuxianqiao (酒仙桥, “Drunken Immortal Bridge”). These names, brimming with historical grit, tell stories of military outposts, imperial tombs, and vanished waterways. Unlike the poetic West Lake or Gulangyu—backdrops for countless romantic idol dramas—Beijing’s toponyms are blunt, functional, and deeply rooted in the city’s evolution from frontier garrison to sprawling metropolis.

This linguistic character poses a problem for screenwriters: How do you set a dreamy love story in a neighborhood called Dawaya (大瓦窑, “Big Tile Kiln”) or stage a meet-cute at Qianniwa (前泥洼, “Front Mud Puddle”) subway station?

How Beijing’s Geography Shaped Its Names

Beijing’s place names fall into distinct categories, each reflecting the city’s historical layers:

### Military Heritage: Tun, Ying, and Zhan
Many Beijing neighborhoods bear suffixes like -tun (屯, “garrison”) or -ying (营, “barracks”), remnants of its Ming-era role as a defensive hub. Sanlitun (三里屯, “Three-Mile Garrison”) and Liulitun (六里屯, “Six-Mile Garrison”) marked distances from the city walls. Even Wukesong (五棵松, “Five Pine Trees”) allegedly refers to trees planted to guide troops.

### Waterlogged Past: Tan, Wa, and Dian
Names like Jishuitan (积水潭, “Accumulated Water Lake”) and Haidian (海淀, “Shallow Sea”) recall Beijing’s vanished lakes and marshes, drained as the city expanded. Bingbuwa (兵部洼, “Ministry of War Puddle”) hints at flood-prone lowlands near government offices.

### Graveyards and Ghosts: The -fen Phenomenon
Imperial tombs (Gongzhufen) and common burial grounds (Majiafen, 马家坟) dot the map, many now bustling hubs. These sites birthed villages as tombkeepers settled nearby—a pragmatic origin at odds with idol dramas’ ethereal aesthetics.

### The -gezhuang Mystery
Places like Panggezhuang (庞各庄) stump outsiders. The -ge (各) is a fossilized pronunciation of -jia (家, “family”), making Panggezhuang simply “Pang Family Village.”

Why Idol Dramas Flee North

Romantic TV thrives on escapism, favoring locales that signal beauty or sophistication:
– Hangzhou’s West Lake: A timeless symbol of lyrical love (To Our Love That Is Lost).
– Xiamen’s Gulangyu: Euro-colonial villas and ocean breezes (My Huckleberry Friends).
– Qingdao’s Red Roofs: Cobblestone streets straight out of Europe (With You).

Beijing, by contrast, serves as shorthand for struggle. Urban dramas like The Ordinary Glory or Ode to Joy use its landmarks—Zhongguancun’s tech grind, Wangjing’s corporate towers—to depict ambition, not amour. Even when love blooms, it’s often between harried professionals in Tongzhou apartments, far from the glittering centers of screen romance.

Could Beijing Ever Host a Love Story?

History suggests yes. The 1990s series Struggle and Beijing Love Story captured youthful passion amid hutongs and high-rises. Today, newer narratives are emerging:
– The Guomao Romance: Shows like Pretentious orbit the CBD’s glass towers, where power suits flirt over lattes.
– Suburban Serendipity: As young migrants settle beyond the Fifth Ring, stories could bloom in Changping’s university towns or Shunyi’s expat enclaves.

Imagine a Sanlitun Love Story: fashionistas colliding in neon-lit alleys, or a Wudaokou meet-cute between PhD students. The raw material exists—it just demands a lens that finds glamour in Beijing’s unvarnished poetry.

The City That Defies Fantasy

Beijing’s place names are time capsules, preserving the pragmatism of soldiers, laborers, and tombkeepers. They clash with idol drama tropes because they speak of lived history, not curated backdrops. Yet this very authenticity—the weight of centuries in Dongsi Shitiao (东四十条, “East Fourth, Tenth Lane”) or the melancholy of Anheqiao North (安河桥北)—holds narrative potential.

The challenge isn’t renaming Dingfuzhuang (定福庄, “Fortune Village”) but reframing it: a place where fortunes—and hearts—might yet be won.