Chiwen is the second son and has a dragon’s head on a fish body. It can see far and prevent fires; so its image is often seen on roofs.

Taotie is the third son, whose throat can swallow everything including its own body. Taotie heads are often seen on old bridges as a flood prevention totem.

Yazi is the fourth son, whose bellicose nature made it a popular pattern on machete and sword handles.

Bi’an is the fifth son and often confused with a tiger. Because of its inborn antipathy to law-breakers, Bi’an images were carved over prison gates in the past.

Suanni is the sixth son and resembles a lion. It chases fire and smoke, so is often seen on incense burners.

Baxia is the seventh son. A lover of water, it is widely seen on the rails of ancient bridges or drainage outlets in old buildings, including the Forbidden City.

Jiaotu is the eighth son, and a fierce defender of its lair, making it the preferred image for doorknockers. With a dense, matted mane, it can easily be mistaken for a lion.

Pulao is the ninth son, a lover of music and possessor of a thunderous roar. It is often seen carved on the ornamental suspension loop of ancient bells, for example the Yongle Bell from the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) in Beijing.

Rooftop Bestiary

On ancient gable-roofed buildings the ends of the horizontal ridge are often fashioned into Chiwen, talismanic figures protecting the building from fire and flood. Arrays of other divine animals line up along the four sloping ridges, the number varying according to the social status of the occupants, which also relates to the types of building.

The origin of this fashion can be dated to the reign of Ming Emperor Zhu Di (1360-1424), who moved the dynasty’s capital from Nanjing to Beijing. Legend has it that while the Imperial Palace was being built, the God of Heaven sent a group of divine animals to supervise the construction, and that their images were fashioned into glazed tiles to adorn the rooftops. They have a practical function too: the glaze protects the timber roof structure from air and rain, significantly improving its durability.

The ridge figures are led by a phoenix with a man on its back, indicating a last-minute escape from a perilous situation. This comes from a Warring States Period (475-221BC) tale: the King of Qi was pursued by enemy forces to the bank of a torrential river. Cornered, with no bridge or boat in sight, he had given up hope of survival when a giant bird swooped down from nowhere and spirited him away.

Next behind the phoenix comes the winged horse, marine horse, Xiayu (a monster with a dragon body and a fish tail), Douniu (an invented fire-fighting animal) and Xingshi (a monkey-like animal with wings, believed to divert thunderbolts), and others.

The number and sequence of these beasts speak to the building’s purpose. The greatest number – 10 – appear on the Taihe (Supreme Harmony) Hall of the Forbidden City, where emperors discussed state affairs with court officials. The Western and Eastern Palaces, living quarters for royal spouses, have five. At the bottom of the scale, with just one, are the roof ridges of the gate towers on the enclosing wall of the imperial compound.

In feudal times the use of ridge animals was restricted to nobles and officials, whose life of extravagance was based on the blood and sweat of the populace. As a result commoners looked on them as symbols of repression and referred to them in cynical terms. “Phoenix with rider,” for instance, was sometimes used to mean “no way out.” In Beijing dialect the simple reference to “ridges and animals” means “beyond endurance” and feeling “ground down.”

These glazed ceramic creatures are not just palatial ornamentation: they have an important waterproofing and stabilizing function too, and combine, in a most charming way, artistry and practicality, design and craftsmanship. Their mythic content adds to their magnificence, and the artistic appeal of palace buildings owes much to the embellishment of this rooftop bestiary.