Ghost Cities of China: Abandoned Places and Their Legends
China's landscape is dotted with abandoned settlements that blur the line between modern urban planning failures and ancient supernatural folklore. These "ghost cities" (鬼城, guǐchéng) exist in two distinct yet eerily parallel forms: contemporary developments left empty by economic miscalculation, and historical sites abandoned due to disaster, war, or—according to local legend—supernatural forces that drove inhabitants away. Both types of ghost cities have become repositories for tales of wandering spirits, restless souls, and malevolent entities that refuse to let the past remain buried.
The Nature of Chinese Ghost Cities
The term "ghost city" carries different meanings depending on context. Modern ghost cities are typically massive real estate developments built to accommodate populations that never arrived, leaving entire districts of apartment towers, shopping centers, and infrastructure standing vacant. These contemporary ruins have quickly accumulated their own supernatural folklore, as locals report strange phenomena in the empty buildings.
However, China's truly haunted ghost cities are far older—settlements abandoned centuries ago that have become focal points for supernatural activity. These locations are often associated with tragic historical events: massacres, plagues, natural disasters, or imperial purges that left entire communities dead or displaced. In Chinese folk belief, such violent or untimely deaths create 冤魂 (yuānhún, wronged spirits) who cannot move on to the afterlife and instead linger at the sites of their demise.
Fengdu: The City of Ghosts
Perhaps no location in China is more synonymous with the supernatural than Fengdu (丰都, Fēngdū) in Chongqing Municipality. Known as the "City of Ghosts" or 鬼城 (Guǐchéng), Fengdu has been associated with the Chinese underworld for nearly 2,000 years. According to legend, two Han Dynasty officials—Yin Changsheng and Wang Fangping—practiced Taoist cultivation on Ming Mountain (名山, Míng Shān) overlooking the city and eventually achieved immortality. Their combined surnames, Yin-Wang, sound similar to 阴王 (Yīnwáng, King of the Underworld), leading to the belief that Fengdu was the earthly gateway to 地府 (Dìfǔ), the realm of the dead.
The city's temples and structures are dedicated to depicting the afterlife journey. The most famous is the Temple of the Son of Heaven (天子殿, Tiānzǐ Diàn), which houses statues of 阎罗王 (Yánluó Wáng, King Yama), the supreme judge of the dead. Visitors must cross the 奈何桥 (Nàihé Qiáo, Bridge of Helplessness), a test bridge where the righteous can pass safely while sinners fall into the waters below, which are said to be filled with vengeful spirits.
Local residents report numerous supernatural encounters, particularly during the 清明节 (Qīngmíng Jié, Tomb Sweeping Festival) and 中元节 (Zhōngyuán Jié, Ghost Festival), when the boundary between the living and dead is believed to be thinnest. Witnesses describe seeing processions of pale figures in ancient clothing walking through the old streets at night, and hearing the sounds of wailing and chains rattling from empty buildings. Some claim to have seen 黑白无常 (Hēi Bái Wúcháng, Black and White Impermanence), the psychopomp deities who escort souls to the underworld, walking the streets of Fengdu after midnight.
The Drowned Villages of the Three Gorges
The construction of the Three Gorges Dam created a different kind of ghost city—or rather, ghost cities plural. Over 1,300 archaeological sites and numerous towns and villages were submerged beneath the rising waters of the Yangtze River between 1994 and 2009. Among these was the ancient city of Baidicheng (白帝城, Báidì Chéng, White Emperor City), partially preserved on an island, and countless smaller settlements that disappeared entirely beneath the reservoir.
The flooding displaced over 1.3 million people, and according to local folklore, many of the dead buried in ancestral graveyards were not properly relocated. In Chinese tradition, disturbing graves without proper ritual can create 厉鬼 (lìguǐ, fierce ghosts) who seek vengeance on the living. Fishermen on the reservoir report seeing entire submerged villages glowing beneath the water's surface on foggy nights, and hearing the sounds of temple bells ringing from the depths.
One particularly persistent legend involves the town of Dachang (大昌, Dàchāng), a 1,700-year-old settlement that was completely submerged. Locals claim that during certain times of year, when the water level drops, the tops of buildings emerge from the reservoir, and those who venture near report seeing wet footprints leading from the water's edge into the surrounding hills—footprints that belong to no living person. These are attributed to 水鬼 (shuǐguǐ, water ghosts), spirits of the drowned who seek to drag the living into the water to take their place, allowing the ghost to be reincarnated.
Crescent Moon Spring and the Buried City of Loulan
In the deserts of Xinjiang lies the ancient Silk Road city of Loulan (楼兰, Lóulán), abandoned around 500 CE when the nearby Lop Nur lake dried up. The city was lost to history until its rediscovery in 1900, and its ruins remain one of China's most mysterious archaeological sites. The mummified remains found in the area, preserved by the desert's extreme dryness, have fueled legends of a cursed city.
According to local Uyghur folklore, Loulan was destroyed not by natural causes but by a powerful 沙魔 (shāmó, sand demon) that arose when the city's rulers offended the desert spirits. The demon summoned a massive sandstorm that buried the city in a single night, trapping its inhabitants alive. Desert travelers report hearing voices calling for help from beneath the sand dunes, and seeing figures in ancient clothing walking through the ruins at dusk, only to vanish when approached.
The most famous supernatural account involves the "Beauty of Loulan," a 3,800-year-old mummy discovered in the region. Guards at the museum where she was initially housed reported that her eyes would open at night, and that she would move within her display case. Some claimed to hear her singing in an unknown language. These reports led to the mummy being moved multiple times, with each location experiencing similar phenomena until she was finally placed in a specially consecrated display area with Taoist protective talismans.
The Plague Village of Houtouwan
On Shengshan Island near Shanghai lies Houtouwan (后头湾, Hòutóuwān), a fishing village abandoned in the 1990s due to its remote location and difficulty of access. Nature has reclaimed the village, with thick ivy covering the stone houses and creating an eerie, post-apocalyptic atmosphere. While the official reason for abandonment was economic, local legends tell a different story.
According to island residents, a plague swept through Houtouwan in the 1980s, killing dozens of villagers. The disease was attributed to 瘟神 (wēnshén, plague spirits) that arrived on a foreign ship that wrecked near the island. The spirits, angered at being disturbed from their watery grave, cursed the village. Those who survived the plague began reporting sightings of 僵尸 (jiāngshī, hopping corpses)—reanimated bodies of plague victims who had not been properly buried according to ritual.
Fishermen who anchor near the abandoned village report hearing children's laughter echoing from the empty houses, and seeing lights moving through the ivy-covered windows despite the lack of electricity. Some claim to have encountered a woman in a red dress (红衣女鬼, hóngyī nǚguǐ, red-dressed female ghost) standing on the shore, beckoning to them—a particularly ominous sign in Chinese folklore, as ghosts in red are often the most vengeful and dangerous.
The Ghost Apartments of Ordos Kangbashi
The modern ghost city of Kangbashi in Inner Mongolia represents a different phenomenon—a city built for one million people that remains largely empty. Constructed between 2004 and 2010 as part of China's urbanization push, the district features massive apartment complexes, government buildings, museums, and a stadium, yet has fewer than 100,000 residents.
While Kangbashi's emptiness has economic explanations, the vast uninhabited spaces have quickly accumulated supernatural folklore. Security guards working night shifts in the empty apartment towers report hearing footsteps in vacant units, doors opening and closing on windless nights, and seeing shadows moving past windows in buildings with no electricity. Some claim to hear the sounds of families—children playing, couples arguing, elderly people coughing—emanating from apartments that have never been occupied.
One particularly disturbing account involves a security guard who entered an empty apartment to investigate a noise and found a full dinner table set with food, still warm, despite the unit having no gas or electricity connection. When he left to get his supervisor, the apartment was empty again, with no trace of the meal. This phenomenon is attributed to 饿鬼 (èguǐ, hungry ghosts)—spirits of those who died in poverty or starvation, condemned to eternal hunger and drawn to places of unfulfilled potential.
The Abandoned Mining Town of Daye
In Hubei Province, the mining town of Daye (大冶, Dàyě) contains several abandoned mining complexes and worker villages from the Mao era. These sites were hastily evacuated in the 1980s following a series of mining disasters that killed hundreds of workers. The official cause was structural failure and gas explosions, but local legends attribute the disasters to disturbing an ancient tomb complex during excavation.
According to these accounts, miners broke through into a burial chamber containing the remains of a minor warlord from the Three Kingdoms period. Rather than halt operations and report the archaeological find, the mine supervisor ordered the chamber destroyed and the remains disposed of. Shortly afterward, workers began reporting encounters with a figure in ancient armor walking through the mine tunnels, and hearing the sounds of battle—swords clashing and men screaming—echoing from deep within the earth.
The disasters that followed were attributed to the warlord's 怨气 (yuànqì, resentful energy), which had accumulated over centuries and was released when his tomb was violated. Survivors of the mining accidents reported seeing the armored figure standing in the tunnels just before collapses occurred, as if warning them—or perhaps causing the disasters himself. The abandoned mining town is now considered extremely 阴 (yīn, yin/negative energy), and locals avoid the area, especially after dark.
Protective Practices and Ghost City Tourism
Despite—or perhaps because of—their supernatural reputations, many of China's ghost cities have become tourist attractions. Fengdu, in particular, has embraced its ghostly heritage, with elaborate tours of its underworld-themed temples and structures. However, visitors are advised to follow certain protective practices rooted in Chinese folk tradition.
These include carrying 护身符 (hùshēnfú, protective amulets), avoiding wearing red or white clothing (colors associated with ghosts and death), not whistling after dark (which attracts spirits), and never responding if you hear your name called when alone. More seriously, visitors should avoid disturbing any offerings left for spirits, stepping over threshold stones (which trap ghosts inside buildings), or taking photographs of empty doorways (which might capture spirits and bring them home).
For those who believe they have attracted unwanted spiritual attention after visiting a ghost city, traditional remedies include burning 艾草 (àicǎo, mugwort) to purify one's home, bathing in water infused with 桃木 (táomù, peach wood) shavings, or seeking the services of a 道士 (dàoshì, Taoist priest) to perform cleansing rituals.
Conclusion
China's ghost cities—whether ancient ruins abandoned to supernatural forces or modern developments left empty by economic miscalculation—serve as powerful reminders of the Chinese cultural relationship with death, memory, and the unseen world. These locations exist in a liminal space between past and present, occupied and abandoned, material and spiritual. They remind us that in Chinese cosmology, places can retain the imprint of human tragedy and emotion, becoming permanent homes for those who cannot—or will not—move on.
Whether one believes in the literal truth of ghost sightings and supernatural phenomena, these legends reflect deeper cultural anxieties about displacement, improper burial, disturbed graves, and the consequences of forgetting the dead. In a rapidly modernizing China, ghost cities stand as monuments to the persistence of traditional beliefs and the enduring power of place-based folklore.