Tsui Sing Lau means ‘pagoda of the gathering stars’.
It doesn’t look like much, really. A hexagon made of grey brick, thirteen meters tall. Three storeys. But it is the only ancient pagoda still standing in Hong Kong.
That’s a singular thing, considering what gets built there. It got monument status in 2001. Older though. Erected during Hongwu’s rule, somewhere between 1368 and 1398. Ming Dynasty vibes.
The Tang family built it. Surnamed Tang. They live in Tin Shui Wai, or lived where Tin Shui Wai now sits. Northwest corner of HK.
It wasn’t a religious center, at least not initially. A feng shui trick. The idea was to stop evil spirits. Also to keep floods at bay, mostly those coming from the north. Superstition as structural engineering? Maybe.
Location has changed. Used to be right next to the estuary. Then came the 80s. Land reclamation for the satellite town. Concrete poured everywhere. Now the pagoda sits almost 3km inland. Far from Deep Bay. The water retreated. The bricks stayed.
Typhoons are ruthless here. The Tang genealogy says the thing used to have seven storeys. Arrogant, even. Two strong storms came through. Broke it down. Five storeys. Then three. Now it stands at three, scarred but stubborn.
Who’s inside?
Top floor holds Fui Sing. If you want to pass an exam, pray to him. He controls the results. The rest? Not so lucky. Ground floor belongs to heavier hitters. Kwan Tai, the Martial God. Man Cheong, God of Literature. A mix of brawn and brain, guarding the entrance.
Every level has Chinese characters on the facade. They don’t hide anything.
Second level? Just the name. Tsui Sing Lau. Simple.
Ground floor reads: “light shines straight onto the dippers enclosures”. Weird imagery, specific poetry. Top level adds: “over the milky way”.
You stare up. You see bricks, inscriptions, maybe a bird. Do the stars actually gather there? Hard to tell through the haze.
The pagoda remains. The floodwaters moved away. The Tang family lineage likely changed, diluted, scattered like so many other things in this place. It’s just a hexagon now, watching over a suburb that didn’t exist when the mortar was dry.
