Rain drizzled softly as I approached the towering structure of Shanghai’s 1933 Old Millfun. The city’s usual hustle seemed to pause, painted in shades of gray. Standing tall in its Art Deco grandeur, this building, erected in 1933, is a mesmerizing blend of Art Deco and Bauhaus designs.
Originally built as a slaughterhouse—the only remaining one of its kind—the Old Millfun was ingeniously designed for the smooth transit of livestock. Spiral ramps wide enough for cattle, labyrinthine corridors to muffle panic, and skybridges connecting five floors of raw concrete and asymmetrical architecture. Today, it’s a haven for art enthusiasts, photographers, creatives, and coffee lovers.
I ventured here to witness Shanghai’s commitment to repurposing its past rather than erasing it. This is a place where history and modernity coexist harmoniously.
Inside, the building was quiet, almost eerily so. My footsteps echoed softly, and rain traced delicate patterns on the cracked concrete. Looking up, the bridges crisscrossed above me like veins, and the air carried a hint of stone and metal.
Turning a corner, I glimpsed a woman in a red qipao capturing photos against a bare wall. Her elegance seemed timeless, untouched by the rain. But when I raised my phone to capture the moment, she was gone. Mysteries like this seemed woven into the very fabric of the building.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee led me to a cozy café tucked between walls draped in greenery. The scent mingled with the petrichor, creating a comforting embrace from the dampness outside. Patrons sipped their drinks quietly, lost in thought.
As I wandered further, hidden corridors revealed flickering lamps and faint markings on the walls—remnants of the building’s storied past. Each corner promised a new surprise: an art exhibition projecting black-and-white images onto concrete, a secret lounge with soft music drifting through doorways, and quiet terraces offering panoramic views of Shanghai’s skyline.
Time felt fluid here. Moments stretched, and the boundary between past and present blurred. By the time I stepped back outside, the rain had ceased, and the sun bathed the city in a warm glow. The world moved on, but a part of me remained within those walls.
Visiting the 1933 Old Millfun isn’t just about seeing a historic site; it’s about experiencing a living memory. It’s a testament to Shanghai’s evolving identity—a city that honors its history while embracing the future.
