History & Culture

"Come over next Saturday night," Chef Yang Boying said. "I'll make an old school dish—cordyceps duck. You won't find it in restaurants these days." I arrived right on time. Yang lifted the lid off a steaming pot, releasing the scent of something rich and ancient. Inside was a rustic farm duck, slow-steamed for four hours in a dark, nourishing broth. Sprouting from the skin were black threads that looked like rat tails—twenty pieces of cordyceps, carefully skewered into the flesh. The sight was strange, even a little eerie, but the aroma was unforgettable. Medicine and Food Share the Same Root Cordyceps duck (虫草鸭子), a medicinal classic from 19th-century Sichuan, embodies the Chinese belief that food and medicine share the same root. Once served at Chengdu's Tong Ren Tang—a pharmacy that also sold nourishing dishes—it was never just a meal. Cordyceps, a rare fungus that grows from caterpillars, is prized in traditional Chinese medicine for enhancing energy and immunity. The method used to cook this duck—piercing it and inserting the fungus by hand—was both precise and poetic. Today, few make it this way. The cordyceps are usually tossed into the pot with the duck, no fancy presentation. But Yang prefers the…

Every year, during the Dragon Boat Festival (端午节), you'll see families across China hanging bundles of mugwort (艾草) on their doors, wearing fragrant sachets close to their bodies, and tying colorful threads on children's wrists. In places like Henan and Zhejiang, pots are filled with garlic and eggs. These time-honored traditions, passed down for thousands of years, form a complete "protective system" against evil spirits. But the Dragon Boat Festival isn't just a day to remember the poet Qu Yuan. Its long-standing folk practices signify a celebration of life, a prayer for the living, and a struggle against the uncertainty of life. Traditional Food Rituals as Protection During Festivals A saying goes, "If you don't wear mugwort on Dragon Boat Festival, you'll turn into a ghost after death." Mugwort and calamus, often placed at the thresholds of homes, act like plant-based charms, creating a symbolic barrier to safeguard both family and body. Food, which enters the body directly, forms an even closer connection with people and is given the special power to ward off evil spirits. For example, the red beans, salted egg yolks, and salted meats wrapped inside zongzi (粽子, traditional sticky rice dumplings) are considered "yang objects" (阳物),…

In cdramas, such as The Gorgeous Princess, The Demon Exorcist, and Wind Blows in Luoyang, during the Tang - style wedding ceremonies, the newlyweds bow to a mirror instead of their parents. What's the story behind this? First, let's get to the conclusion. 'Bowing to the mirror' was an old wedding custom in the Tang and Song dynasties, used to ward off evil spirits, pray for blessings, and encourage self - reflection. Since the Han Dynasty, mirrors have been one of the betrothal gifts and marriage tokens. At that time, mirrors were also called 'yang sui'. They could get fire from the sun, symbolizing brightness and beauty, and might be the prototype of early wedding mirrors. Newlyweds used bronze mirrors to ward off disasters and evil, reflect on themselves, recognize each other's true feelings, and pray for a smoother, brighter, and more beautiful married life. In the Tang Dynasty, the name 'yang sui' was reused. As Du You of the Tang Dynasty wrote in Tongdian: 'There are a total of thirty kinds of gifts for the betrothal ceremony', among which there was yang sui, with the meaning of 'yang sui brings light and peace'. The patterns on bronze mirrors also…

Do you also think that commoners in ancient times, like those portrayed in historical dramas, mostly wore coarse linen clothes? You might not know that ancient people also had a few decent outfits for special occasions such as festivals, visiting relatives, or attending weddings. Some have asked why we don't discuss commoners' clothing, assuming the articles only focus on noble styles. People might wonder, 'Could commoners really wear silk or gold in daily life?' There's actually some misunderstanding here. In ancient times, many trends originated among the nobility and later spread to commoners, while some crafts improved among commoners and rose to popularity among nobles. So, there was no absolute rule. Here's the conclusion: ancient clothing styles were quite similar (except for some impractical wide - sleeved designs). What people wore mainly depended on the occasion—for grand ceremonies or rituals, they would prepare finer attire. The quality of clothing was reflected in the fabric, craftsmanship, and vibrancy of colors. Another factor was occupation. Laborers wore durable clothes like hemp garments, but not all commoners worked in fields, so coarse linen wasn't universal. In the Ming Dynasty, for example, the silk industry thrived in Jiangnan (江南), and even ordinary people wore…

Have we been using blankets wrong all these years? In cdramas, the blankets we commonly see are rectangular, similar to what we use today. However, in the TV series Guo Se Fang Hua, Yang Zi's blanket with a unique cut - out design is quite impressive. When pulled up, it snugly covers the shoulders, providing a sense of security. This kind of blanket dates back to the Warring States period, making it a 'classic design'. In contrast, traditional rectangular quilts, though warm, often expose the shoulders because of their straight edges. During seasonal changes and cold winters, shoulders are vulnerable to cold drafts. The ancient concave - backed blanket has an ingenious design. Its tailored cut - out ensures the shoulders are well - covered, offering both comfort and excellent insulation. It's astonishing that this practical design, now seen as innovative, was adopted by our ancestors over two thousand years ago during the Eastern Zhou dynasty. Auspicious Embroidery The ancients loved embroidering auspicious patterns on blankets. The Warring States blanket used ancient lock - stitch embroidery with paired dragon and phoenix motifs in deep blue, emerald blue, red - brown, vermilion, and yellow threads. This is similar to the pattern…

Finally, a historical drama recreates the coming - of - age rite. In When the Wild Geese Return, there's a scene where Zhuang Hanyan, played by Chen Duling, undergoes the Ji Li (coming - of - age ceremony for women). Netizens exclaimed, 'So this is the touching moment!' Nowadays, most children are considered adults once they reach a certain age, without a formal 'coming - of - age ceremony'. But in ancient China, one couldn't be truly 'adult' without understanding rites and undergoing the Guan Li (capping ceremony for men) for males or the Ji Li for females. Details of Rites Men usually had the Guan Li at 20, and women the Ji Li at 15. Also called 'Jia Ji' or 'Shangtou Li', the Ji Li involved parents or elders tying up the girl's hair and inserting a hairpin, signifying her adulthood and eligibility for marriage. As the saying goes, 'When a woman is betrothed, she undergoes the Ji Li and is given a courtesy name.' The main adornments in these rites were hair - tying and adding a crown or hairpin. Before adulthood, children wore their hair loose. The Guan Li for men had three stages, corresponding to different…

In the ancient - costume drama Yan Hui Shi (雁回时), when Zhuang Hanyan took out a fire - arm, I bet many people's hearts skipped a beat. Netizens wondered, "Where did Yanzi get this fire - arm? Did she borrow it from Fan Xian and Fan Ruoruo?" Actually, fire - arms have appeared in other TV shows like The Longest Day in Chang'an 2 and The Ninth Purple. Let's start with the conclusion: Our ancient ancestors were not only kind - hearted but also very cool. Fire - arms were first created in the Yuan Dynasty in China, evolved from the fire - lance of the Southern Song Dynasty. They were the world's earliest tubular metal shooting firearms. Yes, by the Ming Dynasty, China had already entered the age of firearms. At this time, you could shout, "My lord, the times have changed!" During the Yuan Dynasty, the technology of firearm casting had reached a high level. Metal barrels, usually made of bronze or iron, could be produced for firearms. Before Zhu Yuanzhang established the Ming Dynasty, fire - arms were already the main weapon in production. After the founding of the Ming Dynasty, the production of fire - arms…

Isn't It Uncomfortable? In period dramas, we often see these hard pillows. Even in museums, most pillow artifacts are made of wood or ceramic, making one wonder if they were truly this uncomfortable. The answer is that ancient pillows came in various forms, including silk, cloth, ceramic, wood, and even jade. However, softer pillows like silk or cloth ones didn’t preserve as well, so most surviving artifacts today are hard pillows. The Chinese character for 'pillow' (枕) has a 'wood' radical, suggesting that early pillows were primarily made of materials like wood or dried grass. The ancient text 'Shuowen Jiezi' defines a pillow as 'a support for the head during rest.' Some also used stones as pillows, especially in hot summers, as the coolness could relieve discomfort. As living standards improved, pillows diversified. For example, a silk pillow was unearthed from the Han Dynasty Mawangdui Tomb—a soft pillow! This rectangular pillow, embroidered with 'longevity patterns,' was stuffed with Eupatorium leaves, known for their aromatic and medicinal properties. The pillow’s ends were adorned with raised brocade, and its sides featured fragrant silk embroidery. This wasn’t just a silk pillow but also a medicinal one, proving that nobles had access to soft…

In many historical dramas, intricate half-face masks have become a popular accessory. A common question arises: how are these masks secured to the face without slipping? The answer lies in their design. These masks, often referred to as Mianju (面具), are fastened with ties at the back of the head and feature a nasal groove to prevent sliding. While some associate such masks with Western culture, ancient Chinese hollow masks, particularly those from the Shang and Zhou dynasties, showcase remarkable craftsmanship. The Shang-Zhou period produced two primary types of masks: human-faced (Renmian) and beast-faced (Shoumian). The former, like those unearthed at Sanxingdui (三星堆) and Jinsha (金沙), feature exaggerated eyes and ears. The latter blend multiple animal traits into abstract designs. Contrary to popular belief, many ritual masks weren’t worn on faces—their rough, unfinished backs suggest they adorned pillars for ceremonial purposes. However, wooden masks were likely wearable, as hinted by their refined construction. By the Northern Wei dynasty, masks evolved toward openwork designs with sophisticated motifs like Taotie (饕餮) patterns, showcasing a shift from symbolic abstraction to three-dimensional realism. Tang Dynasty masks reached new heights of lifelikeness, as seen in Hufeng (胡风) masks with eye cutouts for wearability. Archaeological finds…

If you’ve ever wandered into the comments section of a Chinese historical drama, there’s a good chance you’ve seen someone ranting about whether the actors are wearing their robes “correctly.” And by “correctly,” they often mean one of two things: first, is the hair tied up or left loose? And second, is the robe crossing left-over-right (zuo ren, 左衽) or right-over-left (you ren, 右衽)? This second one—zuo ren—is where things get weirdly intense. What Does “Zuo Ren” Actually Mean? So what’s the big deal with zuo ren? Technically, it refers to the way a garment crosses over the body. If the left side overlaps the right, that’s zuo ren. Right over left? That’s "you ren", which is traditionally considered “correct” in Han Chinese dress. Confucius (孔子) even name-dropped zuo ren in the Analects (论语) , saying that if not for the statesman Guan Zhong (管仲) , “we’d all be wearing our hair down and robes crossed the wrong way”—basically, we’d be living like barbarians. Which sounds dramatic. But here’s the thing: even in Confucius’s time, not everyone outside the Central Plains actually wore zuo ren. For example, the people of Chu (楚国) —a powerful southern state considered “semi-barbaric” at the…

It’s funny how we throw around the word “Dunhuang” like it’s a single, well-defined thing. For most people, it’s synonymous with the Mogao Caves—those dusty, majestic Buddhist grottos in the far-flung desert of northwestern China. But Dunhuang (敦煌) is less of a place and more of a time capsule layered with over a thousand years of belief, brushstrokes, and guesswork. It isn’t just one cave, one dynasty, or one style. It's an ecosystem of art, faith, and faded colors—held together by sand and memory. Let’s clear one thing up first: Dunhuang isn’t just the Mogao Caves. It includes the Yulin Caves (榆林窟), the Western Thousand Buddha Caves (西千佛洞), and even more obscure clusters like the Five Temple Caves (五个庙石窟). It's more accurate to call it the Dunhuang Grotto Complex—a network of spiritual and artistic experimentation that unfolded across centuries. Not Just Tang Dynasty Grandeur We love to associate Dunhuang with the Tang Dynasty (唐朝)—maybe because the Tang's cultural glamor fits so neatly with the image of heavenly bodhisattvas strumming pipa mid-air. But that's a postcard version of Dunhuang. In truth, the site saw activity from the 4th to the 14th century, spanning dynasties like the Northern Wei (北魏), Sui (隋),…

When we think of ancient Chinese clothing, one of the first things that come to mind might be the iconic "y"-shaped collars seen in many historical dramas. These images, often simplified for visual appeal, don’t quite capture the complexity and diversity of collar styles throughout China’s long history. From the loose, expansive collars of the Northern Dynasties to the structured, high collars of the Ming and Qing periods, the evolution of the collar is a testament to both fashion and function. A Closer Look at the "Big Collar" Trend The concept of the "big collar" in Chinese historical attire is intriguing because it defies many modern expectations about what a collar should look like. Rather than being a rigid feature of the garment, the collar often served as a playful and dynamic part of the outfit’s overall structure. Take, for instance, the mural from the tomb of Xu Xianxiu (徐显秀) of the Northern Qi (北齐) Dynasty. The image depicts his wife wearing an outfit with an unusually large collar that seems far from the typical “cross-collar” or “y”-shaped design that we expect from Chinese traditional garments. At first glance, the garment worn by Xu Xianxiu’s wife might look like a…

There’s a certain kind of outfit that turns heads, not just because it’s beautiful, but because it leaves people wondering: Is this really how ancient people dressed? Enter the Qixiong Ruqun (齐胸襦裙), a style of Hanfu where the skirt is tied all the way up to the chest—sometimes even under the armpits. It’s dramatic. It’s feminine. And it’s sparked years of debate over whether it’s based on history or pure fantasy. The Rise of a Silhouette That Defies Gravity At a glance, the Qixiong Ruqun feels like a distant cousin of the Korean Chima Jeogori—a wide-skirted dress worn high on the torso, paired with a short jacket. In fact, when you fluff out the skirt and widen the waistband, the two styles can look eerily similar. But the rabbit hole runs deeper than visual resemblance. Questions around the Qixiong Ruqun don’t just come down to aesthetics. They ask something more fundamental: How do you even keep this thing from sliding down? Anyone who’s tried wearing one has likely felt that awkward sensation—the pull of gravity on a waistband that doesn’t seem to be anchored to anything solid. It’s not a minor wardrobe inconvenience. It’s a design flaw. And it’s raised…

If you opened your wardrobe today and found not a single pair of pants, chances are you'd be horrified. Pants are so essential to modern life that we rarely stop to think about their origins. But dig a little into the dusty archives of history—or better yet, into ancient tombs—and you’ll discover that the invention of pants was not only a practical breakthrough but a sartorial milestone born from the needs of a changing world. Layers, Loops, and Crotches: How Ancient Chinese Dressed Forget the meme-worthy myths about ancient Chinese courtiers inventing pants to manipulate palace intrigue. There’s a rumor that during the Western Han dynasty, a powerful official named Huo Guang (霍光) came up with the idea of pants with crotches to help his granddaughter win the emperor’s favor by sabotaging the rest of the harem. Entertaining? Absolutely. True? Not really. The real story is messier, more fascinating, and rooted in functionality. The word “pants” in ancient China didn’t mean what it means now. You had “ku (袴 or 绔),” which referred to garments covering the lower leg, basically like gaiters or leg warmers. Then there was “kun (裈),” which were crotched garments that wrapped the lower body and…

In Tang Dynasty China, women’s fashion followed a consistent formula: a layered ensemble of shan (衫, a short top), ru (襦, a lined jacket), ku (袴, trousers or leggings), and qun (裙, skirts), often draped with a long, flowing pei (帔, a silk stole). But like modern trends, styles evolved—shifting from slim, fitted cuts in the early Tang to voluminous, relaxed silhouettes by the late Tang. This piece traces the evolution of women’s fashion across the Sui, Tang, and Five Dynasties. Each section opens with a vignette inspired by legendary figures—like the runaway courtesan Hongfu (红拂), the politically savvy Shangguan Wan’er (上官婉儿), or the tragic beauty Yang Yuhuan (杨玉环)—paired with reconstructions of their likely outfits. Drawing from archaeological finds, paintings, and sculptures, we’ve pieced together how these women might have dressed. But first, a primer on Tang textiles. The Fabric of Tang Fashion Silk fabrics were woven from intersecting threads: jing (经, warp, the lengthwise threads) and wei (纬, weft, the crosswise threads). Variations in these threads created intricate patterns. 1. Plain Weaves: Juan & Shi Juan (绢): A basic plain-weave silk, utilitarian and widely used. Shi (絁): Similar to juan, but with uneven weft threads, creating subtle horizontal stripes.…

Historical Cdramas like 'Qing Ping Yue' and 'Da Feng Da Geng Ren' have showcased authentic children's hairstyles, moving away from the trend of simply shrinking adult styles. This shift highlights that ancient Chinese children, much like their modern counterparts, had their own distinctive looks tailored to their age. Previously, it was common to see ten-year-olds in period dramas styled as miniature adults—boys with tied-up hair and crowns, girls with elaborate buns and hairpins. However, this portrayal is historically inaccurate. In ancient China, adulthood was marked by ceremonies: the Ji Ji Li (及笄礼) for girls around age 15 and the Ruo Guan Li (弱冠礼) for boys around 20. Before these rites, hairstyle options were limited, with the most common being the 'Zong Jiao' (总角), or 'horned hair'. Zong Jiao: A Broad Term Zong Jiao is a broad term referring to the hairstyles of children aged 7 to 15. This period was poetically called the 'Zong Jiao Years,' and childhood friendships were termed 'Zong Jiao friendships.' The 'Jiao' refers to small topknots, specifically the hair tied on either side of a child's head, distinct from the loose 'Chui Tiao' (垂髫) of early childhood or the formal buns of adults. Narrow Definition of…

In many Tang and Song dynasty dramas, you'll notice that almost every male character wears the same type of hat—the Futou. Whether they're high - ranking officials, low - level clerks, or military generals, the Futou is a common sight. This raises the question: was this hat really that ubiquitous in ancient China? The Futou, also known as the 'Zheshang Jin' (折上巾), was the most popular headwear for men during the Tang dynasty. It originated from a simple headscarf and evolved into two main styles: the 'soft wrap' and the 'hard wrap.' The soft wrap involved directly tying the cloth around the head, while the hard wrap used a base called 'Jinzi' (巾子) to create a more structured shape. The design of the Jinzi varied slightly over time. Historical records, such as Shen Kuo's 'Dream Pool Essays' from the Song dynasty, describe the Futou's tying method in detail. It involved four straps: two tied at the back, leaving two dangling, and the other two folded and tied at the top, giving it the nickname 'Zheshang Jin'. This style was particularly popular among military personnel, as noted in the 'Tang Huiyao.' Despite its widespread use, the Futou wasn't universal. Emperors wore…

In recent years, costume dramas featuring Tang Dynasty aesthetics have surged in popularity. From the widely acclaimed "The Curse of the Pearl Screen" and "Strange Tales of the Tang Dynasty" to upcoming productions like "National Beauty and Fragrance" starring Yang Zi and Li Xian, "Midnight Return" with Tian Xiwei and Xu Kai, Liu Shishi's "Palm of the Hand," and the adaptation of Ma Boyong's novel "Lychees of Chang'an," the Tang Dynasty has become the go - to historical backdrop for filmmakers. The Tang Dynasty (618 - 907 AD) was a golden age of Chinese civilization, renowned for its cultural confidence and sartorial splendor. As historian Sun Ji noted in "Essays on Ancient Chinese Costumes," Tang noblewomen boldly embraced low - cut dresses that accentuated their beauty. The poet Ouyang Xun famously captured this aesthetic with the line: "Snow - white chests and flower - like faces." Shen Congwen's "History of Chinese Clothing" details how Tang women pioneered fashion trends. The popular "half - sleeve" jacket, worn over narrow - sleeved blouses, featured various collar styles and was tied with delicate ribbons across the chest. The pi (披帛), a long decorative scarf often made of sheer silk with intricate patterns, became…

We all know that ancient Chinese used umbrellas on rainy days, but did they also use them for sun protection on sunny days? In historical dramas, oil-paper umbrellas are no longer just for rain but have become props to create an aesthetic atmosphere. They are often seen in scenes where the protagonist walks slowly under a bright sun with an oil-paper umbrella. While beautiful, these umbrellas are made of paper—can they withstand prolonged exposure to sunlight? The answer is simple: ancient Chinese were clever. While oil-paper umbrellas weren’t practical for sunny days, they had other types of umbrellas specifically designed for sun protection. For example, during the Western Zhou Dynasty, umbrellas made of silk (bo) were used, though their primary purpose wasn’t sun protection but to signify noble status. The Northern Qi Dynasty had strict regulations: kings and high-ranking officials used purple umbrellas with pheasant tail decorations, while lower-ranking officials and scholars used blue umbrellas with green linings. The "Yuxie" records that during the Wei Dynasty, people invented oil-paper umbrellas by splitting bamboo and coating paper with oil for daily convenience. During the Qin and Han Dynasties, elaborate canopies (huagai) became popular. The painted bronze chariot unearthed from the Mausoleum…

In ancient China, a unique fashion trend emerged where women adorned their heads with bird - shaped crowns. This practice, which might seem extravagant today, was quite popular among the nobility and performers during various dynasties. The tradition of wearing bird crowns dates back to the Northern Qi Dynasty, as evidenced by murals in the Xu Xianxiu Tomb. By the Tang Dynasty, these crowns became a favorite among female dancers and attendants. Historical records, such as Tang Du You's 'Tongdian' and the 'New Book of Tang,' document performances where dancers wore bird crowns and colorful costumes to celebrate imperial achievements. Initially used by performers, bird crowns gradually gained popularity among the aristocracy. Crafted from gold and silver and embellished with precious stones, these crowns featured various birds like peacocks, phoenixes, parrots, and mynas. The Dunhuang murals frequently depict these ornate crowns, especially on princesses from Khotan and Uyghur, adorned with jade and dressed in luxurious robes. A notable example is a Tang Dynasty pottery figurine from the Jinxiang County Princess Tomb, wearing a peacock crown with vividly painted feathers. The phoenix crown held a special status, combining features of multiple birds, as described in Zhang Hua's 'Avian Classic.' Phoenix motifs…

For centuries, tomb raiders have been notorious for targeting Buddhist statues, stupas, and religious sites. But why? The answer lies in an ancient ritual practice known as Zhuang Cang (装藏)—a tradition of concealing sacred objects inside Buddhist statues. These hidden treasures held both religious significance and material value, making them prime targets for looters. Let's explore what's inside these statues and why they became objects of greed. The Hidden Wealth: What's Inside Buddhist Statues? Buddhist statues and temples often contained Zhuang Cang, a ritual practice where sacred objects were sealed inside. These artifacts were believed to enhance the spiritual power of the statue but also held considerable worldly value. Precious Metals & Gemstones The "Five Treasures" (五宝)—gold, silver, pearls, coral, and lapis lazuli—were essential in many Zhuang Cang rituals. Other valuables like crystal, agate, and dzi beads were also commonly used. In ancient times, these materials could be melted down or traded, making them irresistible to tomb raiders. Śarīra (舍利) & Sacred Relics Buddhist relics, including sheli (舍利)—the pearl-like remains found in the ashes of enlightened monks—were considered priceless in religious circles. High-ranking Buddhist statues often contained such relics, attracting looters hoping to sell them on the underground market. Scriptures…

Subverting Celestial Authority in Song Dynasty Art In the flickering candlelight of a 12th-century Song Dynasty workshop, an anonymous painter dipped his brush into vermilion pigment to depict a scene that would unsettle imperial censors for centuries. The resulting Soushan Tu (搜山图, Demon-Quelling Scroll), now preserved in the Palace Museum, Beijing, presents a cosmic paradox: heavenly soldiers with bulging eyes and twisted faces hunt down fox spirits wearing scholar robes, while weeping deer-women clutch their half-human infants. This 6-meter-long visual rebellion dismantles the myth of divine benevolence through deliberate symbolic inversion—a coded critique of power that still resonates today. The scroll's genius lies in its grotesque ambiguity. A boar-headed soldier drags a tree spirit by its roots, the latter's branches clawing at the air like skeletal hands. Nearby, a pheasant-winged celestial general raises a spiked mace over a cowering family of rabbit spirits, their human-like faces frozen in terror. These are not the clean moral binaries of temple murals, but a murky world where pursuer and prey mirror each other's monstrosity. The Yuan Dynasty zaju (杂剧, poetic drama) Erlang Shen Zui She Suomo Jing (二郎神醉射锁魔镜, The Drunken Erlang Shen Shoots the Demon-Sealing Mirror) provides textual counterparts to these haunting images.…

With the recent announcement of China's sixth batch of national intangible cultural heritage inheritors, Guangdong has become a focal point, with 58 individuals recognized for their dedication to preserving arts like Guangdong Lion Dance (广东醒狮), Cantonese Opera (粤剧), and Chaozhou Opera (潮剧). Among these honorees are practitioners of some of China's most enigmatic folk traditions—Nuó Dance (傩舞), Qilin Dance (麒麟舞), and Panwang Festival (盘王节). Each of these embodies the resilience of Chinese folk culture, preserving both its mystical essence and regional identity. But what cultural significance do they hold? How do their inheritors sustain them in modern times? Let's step into the world of these mesmerizing traditions. Nuó Dance: A Ritual Frozen in Time "Nuó Dance is deeply rooted in our village's traditions. It has been passed down for generations, and everyone, from elders to children, participates with enthusiasm," says Peng Qiusheng, a newly recognized national inheritor from Jiuxian Village (旧县村) in Zhanjiang (湛江). Nuó (傩), an ancient ritual performance, traces its origins back to the Zhou Dynasty (西周). It was initially a shamanistic practice to ward off evil spirits and seek divine blessings for favorable weather and bountiful harvests. Over centuries, it evolved into a dramatic art form encompassing…

When spring arrives, so does that overwhelming drowsiness. Some of us reach for an iced coffee, while others hit the gym to shake off the fatigue. But these modern solutions only offer temporary relief. If we truly want to stay energized, why not take a page from ancient wisdom? From the traditional lifestyle of "rising with the sun and resting at dusk" to the proactive health philosophy of "preventing illness before it arises," our ancestors mastered the art of well-being. Let's explore their secrets through ancient artifacts and uncover seasonal health tips that still applies today. Spring: Wake Up Your Body with Daoyin Exercises The Huangdi Neijing (黄帝内经), an ancient Chinese medical text, states: "In the three months of spring, one should go to bed late and rise early, take walks in the courtyard, and embrace the vitality of the season." This advice highlights the essence of spring wellness—waking up early and engaging in physical activity to rejuvenate the body. Over 2,000 years ago, people already practiced a form of breathing-based exercise known as Daoyin (导引), an early form of qigong. The Daoyin Tu (导引图), an ancient scroll excavated from the Mawangdui (马王堆) Han tombs, depicts 44 figures performing various…