Passing through a special doorway in the wall of the Summer Palace, I wander through rooms and corridors where, in the 19th century, tremulous courtiers would wait to be summoned by the Dragon Lady, aka the Empress Dowager Cixi.

But I'm not in the domain of the lady who effectively ruled China for four decades - the doorway has opened direct from the Summer Palace on to Aman's latest hotel, where many of the 51 bedrooms are housed in the original palace outbuildings.

Look over the tiled rooftops and it's hard to see where the hotel ends and the pavilions, gardens and gazebos of the Summer Palace begin. Which is just how Aman intended it.

Here are the same style of elegantly decorated pavilions, red sandalwood columns propping up sloping roofs, the same courtyard arrangement of rooms, willows weeping into a miniature lake. Even the open-sided passageway leading to the rooms is a replica of the beautifully painted Long Corridor, a covered walkway built by Emperor Qianlong for his mother to enjoy the views of the lotus-strewn Kunming Lake.

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What isn't here are the hordes of tourists roaming the 290-hectare palace, built as a seasonal retreat in the mid-18th century about nine miles (15km) northwest of Beijing. Instead of the tourist babble, gentle music greets my ears from the erhou and guzheng, strummed by silk-clad musicians as I sip jasmine tea. It is without doubt a fabulous location for a hotel.

Which is precisely what interested the Aman founder, Adrian Zecha, when he made the decision three years ago to move into Beijing.

What he has created is the perfect balance between the past and present, the simple and the luxurious. Every time I open the door to the muted colours of my suite, I am bowled over by the Beijing Jin clay tiles on the floor and the elegance of the Ming-style furniture.

This mini-Forbidden City where everything is thought of, even down to a converter plug for electrical equipment, has made me into the latest Amanjunkie - someone who discovers the group, then never wants to stay in another hotel again.

And how do you get into this cult? As Zecha admits, you need to “have more money than time”. But if you only ever stay in one Aman, make it this one, which encapsulates all the magic that is China.

To my surprise, Zecha skims over the architecture and period interiors when I ask what makes this property special. “It is having the ability to do what is essentially a city hotel but with enough space to do so on a one-storey level basis, like a resort, plus accommodating most of the usual resort facilities,” he replies.

It's true, the hotel has a rabbit warren of space underground, including not only a spa and pool but two squash courts, a gym, and a cinema. Everything has a touch of panache about it, from the wide leather reclining chairs in the cinema to the individual rooms in the hairdressing salon. Why suffer the ignominy of having your tresses cut in front of others?

Such a wealth of facilities, including four restaurants, for such a small property, help to explain the 357 staff, and why you're almost constantly saying, “nihao” (hello) as you walk through the hotel. Service has always been a big part of the Aman deal, and here, it's charming, despite the fact that many of the staff still stumble with their English.

It doesn't stretch my charades skills to mime a bottle in the Chinese restaurant, but I do have a conversation straight out of a comedy sketch with room service when ordering a glass of red wine on another occasion. The food is good, but could be tastier - certainly it isn't a match for the meal of succulent Peking duck I feast on in town.

For though you have everything here, you do need to get out. The Great Wall is almost on your doorstep, although Aman, with its knack for special excursions, avoids sections close to Beijing, where there seem to be more tourists than bricks. Instead, my guide and I head to Longquanyu, about 40 miles north. At the village of Xiangtun (population 64), we chat to locals before following a path through a grove of apricot and nut trees.

It is incredibly quiet and peaceful, a soft wind blowing as we break from the trees to view the hills. Snaking over them, often lost in the fecund plant cover, and sometimes rising up as towers, is the Great Wall. Almost without warning we come to its base, climbing up its length, where flowers and bushes push through the stone, to a watchtower, complete with gargoyles. I look down and imagine Mongol invaders on the other side of the wall. It is entrancing.

So, too, is the Forbidden City, back in Beijing. Again, Aman knows the way to do it properly. While coachloads of Chinese tourists scurry around the intricately decorated main halls along the central axis, my guide and I head to the east.

There, we wander from courtyard to courtyard, where it's easy to imagine myself thrown back in time: to feel the Emperor's anguish when the Concubine Zhen was thrown into the well at the Dragon Lady's orders; to appreciate the love put into the decorative silk walls in Emperor Qianlong's quarters; and to witness the priceless jade and gold in the Treasure House alone.

I am so fired with enthusiasm for learning more about these emperors, eunuchs and concubines, that I want to devour every book on China I can find, from Wild Swans to the Cambridge Illustrated History, and to watch again The Last Emperor, the last film shot within the city's hallowed walls.

I don't want to leave - there is so much more to see. But as we drive past Mao's mausoleum in Tiananmen Square, my spirits lift; I am, after all, returning to spend the night in my own Forbidden City.

THE AMAN MANTRA

IT'S AN elite band, numbering among its ranks minor royals and monied readers of Wallpaper magazine. But the Amanjunkies, who choose their travel destination precisely because there's an Aman there, help founder Adrian Zecha to decide where to place his next property, often in part of the world yet to experience a tourism boom.

“It is not absolutely important that a new Aman should be located in a place which has not yet ‘been discovered', but the determining factor is a judgment that here is a place or destination that would appeal to the majority of Amanjunkies,” he says. Considered a visionary in the hotel industry - where Zecha leads, others follow - he says that his decisions on where to build come “in the old-fashioned way... by listening to my gut feel”.

That feeling has led him over the past two decades to create 19 very distinct properties, from the luxury tents in Aman-i-Khas, Rajasthan, where guests rise at dawn for tiger safaris, to the string of lodges that make up Amankora in Bhutan. “There is no formula,” Zecha says. “The main concept includes amazing settings, impeccable service, minimalist elegance. It is important that all the hotels offer a different experience.”

Zecha believes that luxury comes in small numbers. Even with the addition of the Beijing hotel, Aman still has only 695 rooms.

Though in his seventies, Zecha continues to search for areas crying out for an Aman Resort. Travelling three weeks out of every four, the hotel guru says that he is yet to build the property where he would be happy to stay for the rest of his life.

NEED TO KNOW

Rooms at The Aman at Summer Palace start at £260 a night plus 15 per cent tax and service charge. Meals cost extra. Details: 00 800 2255 2626, www.amanresorts.com

British Airways (0844 493 0787, www.ba.com) has returns from Heathrow to Beijing from £569pp, based on departures November/December 2008. Book by October 28.

Hassle-free visas, which cost £65.25, can be arranged by Trailfinders (0845 050 5905) for an additional £25.

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