July 16, China Daily - Water, water everywhere, and every drop is cherished. Wuyuan is crisscrossed with many beautiful rivers, which, in ancient times, served as major channels for transport. Logs, bamboo and tea were floated from the landlocked county to Poyang, China's largest fresh-water lake, and then on to all the commercial hubs along the Yangtze River.

The value of water is more discernable in its symbolic use, though. Many fengshui-conscious Chinese regard water as a symbol of wealth, and nowhere is it more palpable than in Wuyuan.

Every household here - I mean the old ones - has part of the roof open so that rain can pour into the main hall. While the architectural style of nearby provinces, such as northern Zhejiang, turns this open space into a courtyard, here in Wuyuan the rain-soaked ground is part of the hall and on clear days you won't notice much difference, except in some households the ground has sunken slightly.

But even if it's totally flat, the paved stone slabs actually hide a carefully dug tunnel underneath. For the water gathered here is not to be flushed out, but retained for as long as possible. Only when it overflows does it go outside.

Wealth is to be kept.

Wuyuan is now administratively part of Jiangxi province, though it originally belonged to Anhui province. In the days before railroads and expressways, Anhui was known for its successful merchants. Due to ancestral worship and hiding from wars and chaos, many officials retired to Wuyuan, bringing back a lifetime's fortune. They built mansions along the rivers and hoped their descendents would benefit eternally.

There are some 100 villages of such historical significance in Wuyuan, a dozen of which are open to the gaze of tourists. Don't worry about disturbing the residents. Those who open their doors are probably happy to see you because they are compensated by the tourism company, which charges 180 yuan ($26) for a five-day pass that covers a dozen destinations. If you visit fewer than three villages, a 60-yuan ticket makes more sense.

For all the money that used to flow into these households, you don't see much opulence. Residents in this quarter of the country believed in restraint. One telltale sign of the original owner's social status is the number of steps to the main entrance. If he was a high official, it would have been three steps. But those with only one step could have been as rich. Merchants brought fortune, but they did not get as much respect and they could not flaunt what they made by putting a three-step flight of stairs in front of their homes.

Another sign of wealth is the wood or brick carvings that adorn the hall. Most of the images, such as birds and flowers, carry auspicious meanings that derive from a play on words. Ditto for the de rigeur placement of a vase and a mirror that flank the family portrait facing the door. Vase (ping) and mirror (jing) are homonyms for the Chinese word for peace. And peace was the most frequent blessing left-behind mothers and wives gave to their family members out on extended business trips.

What we call mansions may not be imposing at first sight. The rooms may be small, dark and humid. The walls facing the street hardly have any windows. That is because the head of the household was often away and women and children had to be vigilant against robbery or other unwanted attentions.

The Yu Family Temple in the village of Wangkou may be an exception. The 260-year-old building is in a 665-sq-m area, and the central courtyard is large. But this 900-year-old village used to be a business district, so to speak, with more than 100 shops along a 600-m main street.

That said, villagers are friendly toward one another. Walls at crossroads often had their sharp edges removed, at once a symbol of being good neighbors and leaving more space for passersby. During the disastrous "cultural revolution" (1966-76), few had the guts to ransack other households.

According to locals, it was usually the "rebels" within the household who did much of the damage. Some of the woodcarvings are gone. But some are preserved. One family pasted a layer of clay over the central plaque and put "Long live Chairman Mao" over it, thus escaping the scrutiny and wrath of young revolutionaries.

Had there been no revolution, the wealth accumulated in these rural communities would have dribbled away anyway. Once commerce passed them by, they essentially turned into sleepy hamlets with little business activity. Even though Wuyuan is not far from the economic dynamos of Shanghai and Zhejiang, it could not attract much investment.

That turned out to be a blessing in disguise. When a famous Hong Kong photographer stumbled upon the place in the early 1980s, he marveled at the pristine beauty and hailed it as "rural China at its most enchanting". Now, the land of almost 3,000 sq km and 350,000 people is 83 percent covered by forest. And local authorities found that preserving the status quo is the best way to get out of poverty, so it banned logging and encouraged the use of electricity to replace wood burning.

The charm of Wuyuan lies not only in its residential architecture and its narrow streets with shaved-off edges, but in the way it is integrated with the environment. A typical village is nestled at the foot of a hill, with a river winding through. This is the ideal scenario for feng shui planning.

Shuikou, or literally the mouth of water, is the heart of a village. It is similar to a town square in Europe. Since water represents wealth, a particular section of the river where it flows into the village is given special importance. Usually a giant camphor tree grows there, with a water wheel adding a touch of rustic allure. Slightly raised dams, made of stone slabs, elevate the waterbed, so on one hand more water can be kept inside the village and on the other hand it provides this idyllic vista with the perfect soundtrack of the cadence of splashing water.

What is a river without bridges? Some of the villages have covered bridges so elaborate that romance between a photojournalist and a local woman seems enticingly possible. But no! These bridges serve as public spaces and leave little privacy for lovers. Rainbow Bridge, the best known, has brick pillars the size of houses and the shape of boats. Nearby is a path of stepping-stones that offers a riskier alternative of crossing the river with water threatening to submerge your shoes.

The tiny village of Likeng has a dozen bridges, some just one long stone slab. It recalls Suzhou and nearby towns except that over here the ancestors thought they could get far, far away from the maddening crowd. But modern-day travelers have sought them out and put them squarely on the map of must-see sceneries.

Wealth hoarded may not beget more wealth, but old ways well kept - water, bridge and all - have turned out best for both residents and visitors.