High above the Shiqi district, a brick octagon pierces the skyline, functioning less like a building and more like an instrument of inscription. Locals have long referred to this structure as Fufeng Wen Bi—the Cultural Pen of the Mound—imagining it as a giant calligraphy brush dipping into the clouds to write the city’s fortune. The metaphor is precise: the tower’s tapering silhouette suggests a nib poised against the blue canvas of the sky, a deliberate architectural gesture intended to encourage scholarly success and civil order.

Yet the ground beneath the foundation recalls a harsher utility. The hill’s name, Yandun, identifies its original function as a smoke-signal post, a critical node in a coastal defense network where fires once warned of approaching threats. When Magistrate Cai Shanji commissioned the tower in 1608, he effectively overwrote a site of military anxiety with a symbol of cultural permanence. The construction signaled a shift in the region's priority from watching the horizon for invaders to looking upward for inspiration.

Standing 24.5 meters tall, the pagoda presents a facade of continuity that belies significant internal surgery. For over three centuries, the seven-story brick shell remained hollow, a fully permeable vessel. A 1952 renovation radically altered its anatomy, filling the upper three chambers with solid material to stabilize the aging frame. This structural compromise preserved the silhouette but curtailed the ascent; today’s visitors climb only the lower tiers, stepping out onto narrow galleries where the view of the modern city replaces the ancient watch for pirate sails. At night, modern lighting traces the octagonal eaves, allowing the Cultural Pen to remain visible in the dark, a stationary brushstroke emphasizing the enduring value of culture amidst the shifting noise of commerce below.