On a typical day, the romantically named Menghua Jie (Dream Flower Street) is a hive of activity. Residents hurry around on bicycles and scooters, and food vendors do brisk business selling hand-pulled noodles. This is Shanghai’s Old Town, the traditional core of the Chinese city dating back to 1554, when walls were first erected to ward off Japanese pirates preying in nearby waters.

In the street stands a handsome mansion, built in the 1930s by a capitalist called Lin Guisheng, who named it Ximeng Lu, meaning “Hope for an Heir”. An elegant mix of European and traditional Chinese designs, the building was reminiscent of early 20th century Shanghai when western influences, a result of foreign concessions that forced the city open, seeped into local culture, design and architecture. Touches of Art Deco motifs line the walls and ceilings; mosaic tiles with Buddhist swastikas cover the floors. A pair of stone lions, traditional Chinese symbols of wealth, sit under the eaves of a balcony.

But Ximeng is emblematic of a darker side of Shanghai history that is often forgotten in the wake of rapid urbanisation: during the second Sino-Japanese War in 1938 the mansion was turned into a “comfort station”, a military brothel where local women were forced into sexual slavery by the Japanese army.

Ximeng is emblematic of a darker side of Shanghai​’s​ history that is often forgotten in the wake of rapid urbanisation

Hundreds of thousands of women from China, Korea and other occupied territories were forced into sexual slavery by the Japanese army. Peipei Qiu estimates there were 400,000 victims

When the war reached Shanghai – leaving parts of the city buried in rubble and corpses – Lin fled for Hong Kong, and his mansion was abandoned to a dark legacy of sexual violence and rape.

For low-ranked soldiers using Ximeng, or one of the hundreds of other “comfort stations” across China, sex was conducted in one of many rooms with beds placed in rows, separated by thin curtains. One can imagine the sounds of masculine grunts, creaking beds and muffled cries echoing across the wooden stairwell as the women were raped by scores of Japanese soldiers.

Strict rules governing soldier behaviour were displayed prominently within the mansion: “The entrant must register and pay to obtain an entry voucher and a condom”; “The entry voucher holder must enter the designated room and has an allotted time of 30 minutes”.

Strict regulations were displayed in the so-called ‘comfort stations’

The women endured routine examinations to prevent the spread of venereal diseases and were given contraception. Some Japanese military personnel even received accountancy classes on “how to manage comfort stations, including how to determine the actuarial ‘durability or perishability of the women procured’”.

Following victory in Shanghai, an emboldened Japanese army marched to the then-capital Nanjing where it unleashed a massacre, killing up to 300,000 Chinese civilians and disarmed combatants. An estimated 20,000 women – including infants and the elderly – were raped, with many subsequently mutilated and killed in what became known as the Rape of Nanjing. One reason for Japan’s rolling out of comfort stations across China was to regulate the sexual aggression of its soldiers, and Shanghai was home to an estimated 158 stations, more than any other city in China.

After the war ended in 1945 and the Communist party takeover four years later, the mansion resumed its residential purpose in the form of social housing. More than 10 families were assigned rooms in the mansion, a cross-section of political and economic classes crammed under one roof. Families labelled as capitalists were reduced to small rooms in the back, with workers and party members assigned more generous spaces. A descendent of Lin, the original owner, is believed to still live quietly in a small room on the top floor of the mansion.

More than 10 families now live in Ximeng mansion, each occupying a room assigned by the Communist party in 1949. Photograph: Sue Anne Tay

Over the decades, rooms were further halved to accommodate growing families. This was the reality of communal living across Shanghai, a cheek-by-jowl arrangement that remained largely unchanged even after China opened up post-1979. Housing reform allowed some Shanghainese residents to move out to newer and more spacious properties; they then rent their rooms to migrant families, maintaining the compressed state of affairs.



All those living in the building know of its history but uncomfortably try to ignore the aura left behind by the violated women, some of whom killed themselves after the war. Residents endured further trauma during Chairman Mao’s Cultural Revolution of the 1960s and 70s, when neighbours turned on each other and capitalist families and political opponents were mercilessly attacked, and many died. Few of the older generation like to talk about those times.



Places like Ximeng mansion are bricks and mortar testaments to Shanghai’s tumultuous 20th century history. As the city demolishes vast swaths of old neighbourhoods to usher in gleaming new facades, they represent the dark side of a forgotten history that helped shape the city. Championing the preservation of old houses in Shanghai, whether on the grounds of historical or architectural significance, is bureaucratically challenging and rarely successful, especially when they occupy prime real estate. Residents of Ximeng mansion expect their home will suffer a similar fate in the coming years.



There are few calls for the preservation of former comfort stations, with the memorialisation of their victims channelled through official narratives and designated sites. Historian Su Zhiliang, who founded the Research Centre for Chinese Comfort Women at Shanghai Normal University, collects testimonials to campaign for justice and recognition of past atrocities. He has for years called for city authorities to turn Shanghai’s first comfort station into a museum. Like Ximeng mansion, the building is decaying and crowded with families.It is unclear if Su will be successful.



Ximeng mansion is another story. Once built out of hope, all that is left behind is a legacy of despair.