I have explored many crazy places, but nothing could have prepared me for this. In China, not far from the centre of Beijing, there is an abandoned shopping mall ruled by a veritable feline monarchy. A place suspended between silence and surrealism, where cats seem to have taken control of the territory with the calmness of true rulers.
How to get to the abandoned shopping mall
Reaching the so-called Kingdom of Cats is not easy. The complex is located off the beaten track, with no direct access to the subway. I took a taxi from downtown Beijing and, after about forty minutes on the road, found myself in a deserted area surrounded by grey, silent buildings.
No guards, no closed gates: there is more than one entrance, all easily accessible. A paradise for those who love urban exploration… or a sign that something inside is not quite as it should be.
The entrance: an underground labyrinth
As soon as you cross the threshold, you are plunged into total darkness. Only a few flickering service lights illuminate the corridors. I soon discover that the structure is partly underground: the “ground” floor is actually the third level, and there are several more above it.
On the walls are hundreds of dazibao (大字报) — large propaganda posters in Chinese characters, dating back to the 1930s, when wall posters were a powerful political tool. Some depict elegant Art Deco-style female figures, almost in contrast to the decadent atmosphere of the environment.
The kingdom of cats and survivors
As we proceed, the silence is broken by the sharp sound of footsteps and… barking. Yes, a dog.
Behind certain closed doors and along the dimly lit corridors, people are still moving around: improvised inhabitants who have transformed the abandoned spaces into numbered micro-apartments. The service staircases show the decay in all its glory—mould, falling plaster, broken pipes like exposed bones.
Then, the slide. Huge, metallic, a downward-sloping structure that winds through the centre of the complex. Following it, I arrive at the bottom, where the “cat gang” awaits me. Dozens of felines, sly and indifferent, watch me as if I were invading their domain. Some approach in search of food; others guard their “king.”
Ghost elevators and unexpected shops
Going back up to the upper floors, I find the panoramic elevators out of service, but the service elevators still work—at least partially. Some stop abruptly on the fourth floor, others seem to move randomly.
Incredibly, a small world still alive is hidden on the sixth floor: music stores, collectables boutiques, electronics retailers. Everything seems to come from another era, as if someone had forgotten to turn off the lights after closing for good.
The rooftop: between Morocco and surrealism
I reach the rooftop via emergency stairs and a somewhat acrobatic passageway. Up there, the landscape suddenly changes. There are Moroccan-style restaurants—one called “Casablanca,” guarded by a statue of the Pink Panther—empty swimming pools, and corners reminiscent of Chefchaouen, with its blue walls.
It is a mix of cultures and ruins, a final spectacle before the descent.
An exit worthy of a movie
On the way back, I see lights coming from an adjacent building. Inside, people in suits and ties are discussing around a conference table, as if nothing around them belonged to the absurdity I have just experienced. I enter, curious: I find a conference room, hotel rooms, and perfectly clean bathrooms. No one asks me who I am or what I’m doing there.
For a moment, I feel like I’ve ended up in a surreal movie, where the line between reality and dream has practically vanished.
Conclusion: an exploration between reality and fantasy
I descend thanks to an elevator that is still working, walk down the emergency stairs, and finally reach the exit. Outside, the night in Beijing is still. The exploration was crazy, surreal, but also one of the most memorable.
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