China’s Journey: From Shikumen to global powerhouse

In the heart of modern Shanghai—surrounded by soaring skyscrapers and rapid urban motion—stands a quiet, unassuming shikumen house that holds the memory of a moment that changed China forever.

On 23 July 1921, this modest building became the birthplace of the Communist Party of China, where thirteen delegates gathered in secrecy to shape an idea that would later transform the nation’s political, economic, and global identity.

Today preserved as a historic memorial, the site offers a powerful contrast between past and present, reminding visitors how a small, hidden meeting in a narrow stone courtyard ultimately set in motion one of the most significant political movements in modern history.

The small rooms, narrow courtyard, the brickwork, the steep staircase, the enclosed layout—all remain faithful to the early 20th-century architecture of Shanghai. It was once the residence of Li Hanjun and his brother Li Shucheng located at 76 Xingye road. Now, it serves as a quiet witness to a turning point in history.

To give a glimpse of the meeting, different materials used by the comrades have been put around the corners. A table is set containing thirteen tea cups along with a fire box in the middle.

Inside memorial, one of the most striking features is a lifelike tableau capturing the moment just before the party’s founding. Thirteen bronze-toned figures sit around a simple wooden table. Their expressions are thoughtful, even tense. This is not a room of certainty. It is a room of questions, arguments, and decisions yet to be finalised.

Among them is Mao Zedong, at the time just another delegate, not yet the dominant figure history would later elevate. Another person leans forward as if making a point. Another listens, hands clasped. Others appear deep in reflection. The textured and rugged finish of the sculptures gives them a sense of raw energy, almost unfinished quality, as though they are still in the process of becoming.

Set against a darkened backdrop featuring the historical date in glowing characters, the arrangement highlights the quiet intensity of these thirteen individuals as they prepare to move from private contemplation to public revolution. This “frozen moment” of collective “musing” serves as a powerful reminder of the intellectual and personal commitment that preceded the party’s historic founding in Shanghai.

The effect is striking. It feels less like a museum display and more like walking into a conversation paused for a century.

Around the rooms, fragile documents sit behind glass— early manifestos, handwritten notes, translations of Marxist texts. Their pages have aged, edges worn and discoloured. Yet the ideas they carry remain clear: a group of individuals trying to define a path forward for a country in turmoil.

That sense of uncertainty is reinforced throughout the exhibits. The congress itself did not proceed without disruption. Panels detail how the meeting attracted police suspicion in the French Concession, forcing the delegates to disperse. Plans were left incomplete. Conversations were cut short. But the gathering did not end there.

A transition in the exhibition space leads visitors to a dimly lit gallery where a simple tourist wooden boat comes into view. This is a symbolic reconstruction of the vessel on Nanhu Lake in Jiaxing, Zhejiang, where the final session of the Congress took place. Away from the scrutiny of authorities, the delegates reconvened and completed their work.

It is here that the concept of the “Red Boat Spirit” emerges—a shorthand for persistence, adaptability, and determination under pressure.

What this really means is simple: the willingness to continue, even when circumstances force change. Over time, that idea expanded into what is now described as the Party-building spirit, centred on commitment to ideals, to truth, and to public service.

In that quiet moment on the lake, the delegates from seven from early Communist Party organizations adopted the Party’s first programme, passed two key documents, The Programme and The Resolutions, elected and established the central leading body of the party and formally declared the founding of the Communist Party of China. What began in secrecy had taken its first step into structure.

The memorial traces what followed, not as a straight, uninterrupted rise, but as a series of adjustments shaped by circumstance. Early membership was small—fewer than 60 people.

Within a year, it had grown to nearly 200. Exhibits highlight labour movements in Shanghai’s factories and docks, where theory met action. Workers organised. Ideas spread. Momentum built gradually.

Then came the turning points. Alliances formed and dissolved. Internal conflicts tested unity. The Long March reshaped leadership and strategy. By 1949, the Party had established the People’s Republic of China, marking a decisive shift in the country’s trajectory.

The narrative does not stop there. It moves through phases of reconstruction, reform, and opening up. Under Deng Xiaoping, economic policies shifted, introducing market-oriented reforms that would transform China’s economy and its place in the world.

Later sections of the memorial bring the story into the present, including the leadership of Xi Jinping, under whom the country has emphasised technological development, infrastructure expansion, and a more prominent global role.

The museum itself reflects that evolution. Originally established as a memorial in September 1952, the Site of the first National Congress of the CPC was restored ; a memorial was established and opened to the public.

In March 1961, the state Council declared the site of the First National Congress of the CPC as a major historical and cultural site protected at the national level. Since November 2020 the Site has been closed for restoration and renovation . The newly built Memorial of the First National Congress of the Communist Party of China officially opened on 3 June 2021.

The new exhibition Hall has a total building area of about 9,600 square meters, including the basic exhibition hall, the lecture hall, the visitor service center and other services.

The basic exhibition hall covers an area of approximately 3,700 square meters; the exhibition of epoch-making beginnings: Founding of the Communist Party of China is on display.

The exhibition is based on the theme of “the original expiration and foundation mission”, which is divided into seven sections : Pre-show Hall, Struggle for National Survival, Public Awakening and Rising Interest in Marxism, Early Party Groups Mushrooming, Emergence and Rise of the Communist Party of China, Forging Ahead of the Glorious Course and Conclusion.

The newer sections make extensive use of technology. Interactive screens allow visitors to explore the biographies of early figures, including co-founder Dong Biwu.

Augmented reality installations recreate scenes from the 1920s—crowded meeting rooms, printing presses, street demonstrations. A panoramic film places these developments within a broader context: a China struggling with foreign intervention, internal division, and intellectual upheaval.

One installation stretches across an entire wall—a large ceramic artwork mapping milestones from 1921 to the present. It connects the modest shikumen house to national symbols of modern China. The contrast is deliberate. A small room becomes the starting point for a much larger story.

What happened in that small room
In 1921 has long outgrown its physical setting. It is no longer confined to the walls of a shikumen house. Instead, it echoes through policy, through institutions, and through the everyday lives shaped by those decisions.

And yet, the power of the site lies in its simplicity. No matter how expansive the narrative becomes, it always returns to that starting point: thirteen individuals, a closed door, and a conversation that would not stay contained.

The story, in the end, is not just about scale. It is about direction. From a modest gathering in a quiet corner of Shanghai to a nation playing a central role in global affairs, the path has been neither straight nor predictable. But it has been continuous.

What this really means is that history, at its most influential, often begins quietly. Not with spectacle, but with intent. Not with certainty, but with conviction.

And in Shanghai, behind that unassuming stone gate, that moment still lingers—steady, unresolved, and very much alive.