The closed wooden shopfront of Tấn Ký house at night, dark timber shutters and doors flanked by ochre-yellow walls, red lanterns lit on either side, a plaque reading TẤN KÝ above the door and a national-heritage-house sign mounted at lower left, the number 101 above the entrance.
PLACE · MERCHANT HOUSE

Tấn Ký Old House

101 Nguyễn Thái Học street

A Minh Hương merchant family built this house before the street outside it existed. Nearly two centuries later, it still stands, its columns carrying the carved waterlines of every flood that has reached them.

BEFORE THE STREETAROUND 1800–1820

Before Nguyễn Thái Học Street

The street outside the door, called Tân Lộ under the Thiệu Trị reign, was not built until 1841. The family that owns the house told a visiting researcher it already stood there, put up sometime between 1800 and 1820 — more than twenty years before the road that now runs past its front door.

The family belongs to the Minh Hương community, descendants of Chinese settlers who took Vietnamese nationality in the seventeenth century. The house opened as a shop trading cinnamon and silk. A board still hangs near the ceiling of the front room, three gilt characters on a red ground: Lê Từ đường, the ancestral hall of the Lê family.

The trading sign hung at the centre of the house changed with each generation: Tấn Ký in the great-grandfather's time, then Tấn Bửu in the grandfather's, according to the family member who described the house in 2016. Seven generations of the Lê family have lived under its roof since. Lê Chương, the fifth-generation owner, died in 2010. Tân Xuân, of the sixth generation, still greets visitors and tells the house's story.

FOUR SECTIONS, THIRTY METRESHOW IT WAS BUILT

Four Sections, Thirty Metres

The house runs thirty metres back from the street in four linked sections, the tube-house plan Hội An people call nhà ruột ngựa, a horse-gut house. The front section rises two storeys under a moss-covered yin-yang tile roof. Its street face carries no windows, only a large timber door at the centre and two lattice openings pieced together from blue-glazed ceramic tiles shaped like flowers, drilled through to let air in. The family calls the style Japanese, adopted by Vietnamese builders — the kind once seen on houses in Hội An's old Japanese quarter.

A wooden staircase inside Tấn Ký house rising beside round timber columns set on stone bases, tiled floor below, a red-lacquered gilt shrine board visible at upper left.Photograph 2025 · YukioSanjo · Wikimedia Commons · CC BY-SA 4.0
the stairs to the loft, columns resting on stone bases

The second section once served as the shop floor, where the family struck deals with buyers. It now holds the family altar and a reception room. Its roof trusses stack short crossbeams in a Chinese style called chồng rường giả thủ. The columns are kiền kiền hardwood, resistant to rot, set on marble bases quarried at Non Nước mountain in Đà Nẵng. The floor is laid in Bát Tràng brick, carried down from the north. The walls are built in two layers, brick outside and timber within, keeping the room cool in summer and warm in winter.

A board reading Lê Gia Từ in gilt Chinese characters hangs above a doorway inside Tấn Ký house, seen through several receding rows of dark timber columns toward a skywell at the back.Photograph 2025 · YukioSanjo · Wikimedia Commons · CC BY-SA 4.0
the ancestral hall board, seen through the house's linked sections

Carpenters from Kim Bồng village, across the river, fitted the entire frame together with mortise and tenon joints. Not one nail went into it. They carved the timber with auspicious motifs: the eight treasures, plum and orchid and chrysanthemum and bamboo, dragon and unicorn and turtle and phoenix. Between the second and third sections sits an open well paved in grey stone slabs, the only place daylight and air reach a house with no side windows.

A HUNDRED BIRDSWHAT THE HOUSE KEEPS

A Hundred Birds in Mother-of-Pearl

The house keeps several inscribed boards. Tích đức lưu tôn urges descendants to keep their virtue for later generations. Tâm thường thái urges a calm, steady heart. Best known is a pair of black lacquer couplets the family calls Bách Điểu, the Hundred Birds. Fourteen Chinese characters run down the boards, inlaid in mother-of-pearl, read as a hundred feet of willow catching rain that fell a thousand miles away, ten inches of bright moon lighting an entire loft of booksTHE COUPLET, IN SINO-VIETNAMESEBích xích thùy dương thiên lý vũ
Thập phân minh nguyệt nhất lầu thư
The source prints only the Sino-Vietnamese reading, not the original Chinese characters.báo Đô thị, 2010, đăng lại trên hoianworldheritage.org.vn
. Around those fourteen characters run a hundred more inlaid figures of songbirds, a bird associated with the scholar-gentleman, each shown in a different pose: standing still, preening, wings spread, in flight.

A carved dark wood daybed spread with a bamboo-slat mat and a cylindrical headrest, framed by a lattice window of coin-shaped openings on one side and a carved wooden panel on the other.Photograph 2025 · YukioSanjo · Wikimedia Commons · CC BY-SA 4.0
one of the house's older pieces of carved furniture

Nearby sits a small cup tied to an old story about Confucius. Poured slowly, it fills evenly. Past a certain point the water drains out entirely through a hole hidden in the base.

The house also keeps a pair of hexagonal lanterns painted with the Eight Immortals, Chinese merchandise once sold at Hội An's international trade fairs. A set of black lacquer furniture holds marble seats and tabletops from Ngũ Hành Sơn, alongside a set of ink-wash landscape paintings and a Chu Đậu ceramic vase from the sixteenth century, older than the house itself. All of it came into the family's keeping across later generations, not as part of the original build.

THE RIVER AND THE FLOODSTHE RIVER AND THE FLOODS

When the Street Was Riverbank

The rear of the house once stood flush against the riverbank, its back door opening straight onto the water where boats unloaded. Over the years the river silted up. Under the Tự Đức reign, in 1878, a new road was built into the gap between the house and the water's edge — Quảng Đông street, known today as Bạch Đằng.

Both ends of the house have a trapdoor in the ceiling opening onto a loft, and a pulley to haul goods up and down through it. In the years the shop still traded, cinnamon and silk moved this way from boats at the back door straight into storage. No load went up by hand.

Muddy floodwater standing across the tiled floor of Tấn Ký house between dark timber columns, a lit lantern hanging above, a doorway painted blue open at the far end toward the river.Photograph 2025 · Người Lao Động
floodwater standing inside the house, during the run of floods at the end of 2025

Hội An floods most years between September and December, when the Thu Bồn river rises, and the house at 101 Nguyễn Thái Học usually takes on one to two metres of water like the rest of the old quarter. In 1964 the water rose far past that, reaching the ceiling of the ground floor. The family cut that mark into a column, still the highest in a running record of flood years kept there.

Three floods struck the old quarter in close succession at the end of 2025. The owner added a line in pen below the 1964 mark, lower than it. Mud that flood left on the rear wall stayed untouched rather than washed off, so visitors after them could see how high the water had reached.

NATIONAL RELIC STATUS17 FEB 1990

The First Private House

On 17 February 1990 the Ministry of Culture listed a group of Hội An sites as national relics on the same day: the old quarter as a whole, Chùa Cầu, the Fujian Assembly Hall, and Tấn Ký house.

Among that group, Tấn Ký was the first privately owned house in Hội An to receive national relic status — not a communal shrine or an assembly hall built by an entire community, but the home of one trading family.

Nine years later, in 1999, UNESCO added the whole old quarter to its World Heritage list. A house one family had built to trade from now stood listed among the heritage of everyone.

TODAYTODAY

Someone Still Lives Upstairs

The ground floor is open to visitors today. The family still works upstairs each morning and returns to another home each evening. The ancestral altar keeps burning incense, and portraits of earlier generations still hang on the wooden wall behind it.

A family ancestral altar inside Tấn Ký house, a bronze incense burner and a pair of tall candlesticks in front of a gilt shrine board, marigolds in a vase beside it, a pink embroidered altar cloth draped over the front.Photograph 2025 · YukioSanjo · Wikimedia Commons · CC BY-SA 4.0
the family altar, still tended today

The house has hosted foreign heads of state and other visiting officials, and film crews have shot scenes inside it. A local guide says foreign visitors are drawn especially to the corner where flood photographs and the waterline marks are kept, curious how people in Hội An have lived alongside recurring floods.

A road that did not yet exist. A stretch of river that once reached the back step. Almost two hundred years later the road is a street and the river has retreated behind a row of houses. Only the house still stands exactly where it was.

FOLLOW THE THREAD
IMAGE CREDITS
AN INVITATION

Does a photograph of the pulley survive — the one that hauled cinnamon and silk between the riverside door and the loft? A visitor's snapshot or a researcher's field photo would do.

The great-grandfather who first traded as Tấn Ký is known only by his place in the family line. A ledger, a letter, anything with his name would help.

Either one, to the Chronicles at [email protected].

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