They Lied About When Tartarian Buildings Were Actually Built

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Title: The Secrets of Survival in Mohei

January 22nd, 2023. Mohei, Hilong Jang Province. The thermometer read an astonishing -53°C. In this frigid climate, diesel fuel turned to jelly, rubber tires shattered like glass, and exposed skin succumbed to frostbite in mere minutes. This was the coldest inhabited place in China, known locally as China’s North Pole. But on this day, a catastrophe was brewing—one that would test the limits of human endurance and ingenuity.

Imagine, for a moment, that the power grid fails. Your electric furnace stops working, and your home, designed to trap air rather than retain heat, becomes a tomb. The ancient Chinese faced similar challenges during the Little Ice Age, a period when winters were colder than today. They survived without electricity, natural gas, or modern insulation by heating not the air, but the human body itself. This story is not just about survival; it’s about engineering and the lessons we can learn from the past.

To understand the gravity of the situation, we must first delve into history. The year was 1320, and Europe was in the grip of a devastating famine. The Thames River in London froze solid for months, crops failed, and millions perished. This was the beginning of the Little Ice Age, a climate crisis that lasted nearly 600 years, causing glaciers to advance across Europe and entire villages to be abandoned. The cold killed not just individuals but erased civilizations.

In contrast, China had already weathered such storms. During the 3rd to 5th centuries, the Way Jin cold period brought plummeting temperatures, marking one of the most significant cold phases in the last two millennia. The Chinese understood the dangers of extreme cold, and they prepared accordingly.

Fast forward to the present day. At -53°C, the conditions are lethal. Diesel fuel gels at -40°C, engines fail to start, and rubber becomes brittle. Exposed skin freezes in minutes, leading to frostbite and hypothermia. Modern homes are built to rely on convection heating, using materials like fiberglass and drywall to trap warm air. But once the power goes out, that warm air escapes, and the house becomes uninhabitable within hours.

The ancient Chinese, however, had a different approach. They built homes that could survive without fire for days. Their secret? They heated the mass, not the air. One of the most ingenious designs was the Kang, a raised platform made of brick and rammed earth. This was not just a bed; it was a biomass heat exchanger.

The Kang served as the center of family life. Families cooked, ate, and slept on it, creating a microclimate. Inside the Kang was a hollow cavity with a network of flue channels connecting to a cooking stove. When they lit a fire, the hot exhaust traveled through these channels, heating the surrounding brick. By the time the smoke exited the chimney, it had lost most of its heat, which was absorbed by the masonry.

Brick has high thermal mass, meaning it can store a significant amount of heat energy and release it slowly. A single fire could keep the Kang warm for 12 to 15 hours. No electricity, no thermostat—just physics. The surface of the Kang was layered with plaster, which acted as a thermal buffer, smoothing out temperature swings and allowing people to sleep comfortably on it.

This design created a warm zone. Instead of heating an entire room, the family concentrated their activities around one surface. As long as they were on the Kang, they were warm, regardless of how cold the rest of the house became. This approach was not just efficient; it was revolutionary.

The efficiency of the Kang was astounding. Ethnographic accounts show that a well-built Kang used a fraction of the wood that a traditional fireplace would consume. The heat wasn’t escaping into the atmosphere; it was being stored in the structure. One small fire could provide warmth for hours, a stark contrast to modern electric furnaces that burn through energy continuously.

But the ancient Chinese didn’t stop at heating a bed. They scaled up the concept. During the Qin Dynasty, they developed underfloor heating systems for entire rooms. Imagine walking barefoot across a stone floor in the dead of winter, and it’s warm. In elite dwellings and imperial palaces, they created hollow spaces beneath the floors, allowing hot air and smoke from an external furnace to flow through these cavities, warming the room from below.

This system was cleaner and safer than the Roman equivalent, which often involved smoke and soot filling living spaces. The Chinese kept the fire separate, eliminating the risk of carbon monoxide poisoning.

As Jessica pondered these ancient techniques, she realized how the modern world had strayed from such wisdom. Today, homes are dependent on constant energy inputs. When the power goes out, people are left vulnerable. The ancient Chinese built homes that were independent, self-sufficient, and resilient.

In the heart of northern China, the Yaoong—or cave dwelling—was another marvel of ancient engineering. Carved into the earth, these homes took advantage of the stable temperatures found underground. At three meters below the surface, the soil temperature remained consistent, providing a natural buffer against the extreme cold outside.

In a Yaoong, the earth itself acted as insulation. When it was -50°C outside, the interior temperature remained around 10-15°C. This simple yet effective design allowed families to thrive even in the harshest winters.

The Dang Yuan, or sunken courtyard, was another ingenious feature. By digging a pit and excavating rooms around it, families created a sheltered environment that captured sunlight during the day, warming the earth and radiating heat into their living spaces at night. This passive solar design allowed for comfort without relying on modern technology.

As Jessica reflected on these ancient practices, she felt a sense of urgency. The lessons learned from the past were not just historical curiosities; they were vital strategies for resilience in the face of modern challenges. The ancient Chinese had built homes that could withstand the coldest winters, and their knowledge was a treasure trove waiting to be rediscovered.

In the depths of Mohei, as the thermometer dipped to record lows, Jessica understood that survival was not just about enduring the cold; it was about embracing the wisdom of those who had come before. They had faced the same challenges, and their solutions were not just clever—they were essential.

As the wind howled outside, Jessica resolved to honor that legacy. She would not only survive the winter; she would thrive. She would take the lessons of the past and apply them to her future, ensuring that she and her family would never again be at the mercy of the elements.

In the coldest inhabited place in China, the spirit of resilience burned bright. The ancient techniques of the past were not forgotten; they were waiting to be reignited by those willing to learn. Jessica was ready to embrace that knowledge, to build a life not just for herself but for generations to come.