Recently, I've been reading A Treasury of Cheongsams Worn by Chinese Aristocratic Families written by Song Luxia and Xu Jingcan. This book is set against the backdrop of those Chinese aristocratic families that once shone brightly and endured on the historical and political stage. The cheongsam, as the central element throughout this backdrop, is like a cultural micro - cosmet of China's upper class. Through its owners, it reveals the clothing culture, aesthetic trends, humanistic features, and craftsmanship of the last century. The book showcases 90 old cheongsams worn by famous ladies from Chinese aristocratic families. As the authors said, "They are a rare, non - renewable, and endangered collection of specimens of Shanghai - style old cheongsams." These cheongsams represent the highest level of Shanghai - style cheongsams in the last century. The two authors and many colleagues spent a great deal of effort collecting and displaying these cheongsams. It's not just about reviewing and presenting the appearance of national clothing culture but also a challenging task of racing against history and time to rescue more buried, forgotten, and neglected clothing cultural treasures. So, today, let's follow the context and characters in the book to explore the beauty of…

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…

When Qipao meets traditional Chinese red, each piece is a true masterpiece! The fusion of gardenia and jasmine scents creates an unforgettable beginning. Today, I’m sharing about red Qipao. Among all colors, red is undoubtedly the star of Qipao. It's not only associated with wedding attire but also deeply rooted in China's historical and cultural symbolism. Red embodies the soul of Chinese culture, symbolizing auspiciousness, celebration, eternal brightness, warmth, hope, vitality, and prosperity. In Chinese history, the five colors—white, blue, black, red, and yellow—were linked to the Five Elements (metal, wood, water, fire, earth) and virtues (benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, trust). Starting from the Zhou Dynasty, red was revered as a symbol of power and nobility, gradually becoming a staple in both royal and common households. By the Tang and Song Dynasties, red was widely adopted in daily wear and weddings. In the Tang Dynasty, the fourth - rank officials wore dark crimson, and the fifth - rank officials wore light crimson. The popular colors at that time were crimson, purple, bright yellow, and green. The combination of crimson and green was commonly used for women's clothing, and this color scheme was also applied in weddings, with grooms in red…

In previous features, we discussed the unsurpassable peak in Qipao cinema history—In the Mood for Love. Today, I want to focus on Qipao appearances in TV dramas, highlighting those classic moments where Qipao beauties shone. Each of these beauties has her unique charm, and the Qipao they wore were equally distinctive. In the vast ocean of Qipao styles, external beauty is secondary; the key lies in wearing the Qipao with personal flair and character. First, let's talk about a widely recognized Qipao beauty from recent years—Jing Tian in Rattan (2021). Her portrayal of a vine spirit, set in the Republican era, featured numerous Qipao styles that redefined elegance. The satin Qipao, primarily in pearl white, with its high side slit, atmospheric connected shoulder sleeves, double-round front placket paired with delicate piping and inlaid silk hard flower buttons, exuded both nobility and grace. It was not only light and smooth but also convenient for movement. Paired with Jing Tian's long hair like satin, it combined sexiness and cold beauty. The lace-embellished Qipao in pale blue highlighted her delicate features. The lace perspective showed the female's graceful figure in a hazy and implicit way. With exquisite bead embroidery printing and a small…

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…

When the wind blows the hem of the cheongsam, the swaying figure is truly beautiful. Today, I'd like to talk about the cheongsam skirt, that is, the skirt style of the cheongsam. Why this detail? Because when we choose a cheongsam, we must pay special attention to it. Selecting a skirt that suits us, looks good, and has a strong modifying effect is the key to choosing a cheongsam. When choosing a skirt, options like A-line, wide swing, fishtail, straight tube, and various lengths can be dizzying. So today, I'll discuss the different styles of cheongsam skirts, their characteristics, and which body types they suit. Straight Skirt The straight skirt is the most common basic style in cheongsam patterns. It features a straight-up-and-down design. The H-shaped vertical effect makes the skirt fall straight and neatly, making the cheongsam look extra long, upright, and slender. This is why most people choose straight-skirt cheongsams. It suits all body types, has a daily style, and can be worn on various occasions, with a natural sense of dignity. There are usually three lengths for straight skirts. The first reaches the calf. This length is more convenient and daily, with less of the cheongsam's charm…

Too Ahead of Its Time! In the period drama When the Wild Geese Return, the character Zhuang Yushan, the second young miss, often appears in a pink puffy dress. People wonder if ruffled dresses existed in the Ming Dynasty, finding it incredibly fashionable. Let’s start with the conclusion. This style is called Tieli, and a similar one is Yesa. Both were influenced by Yuan - Mongol styles and were popular during the Ming Dynasty. Yesa and Tieli are quite alike, but the most obvious difference is that Yesa has a smooth front panel like a horse - face pleat, while Tieli is fully ruffled. According to Ming Palace History, 'Yesa has an unbroken back panel with side pleats and a front panel divided into two sections with horse - face pleats extending outward.' These styles were mainly men's wear, and women usually wore them for cross - dressing. Does it sound familiar? The once - popular 'Feiyu Fu' (Flying Fish Robe) in dramas, paired with the imposing Xiuchun Dao, is actually this style. 'Feiyu' refers to the pattern, which resembles a python but has a fish tail. Common 'Feiyu Fu' includes both Tieli and Yesa styles. Yesa not only has…

In the period drama When the Wild Geese Return, Chen Duling's character Zhuang Hanyan wore white at her coming-of-age ceremony, sparking online discussions: 'Isn't this inauspicious?' Actually, ancient Chinese society wasn't overly sensitive to wearing white. The misconception arises from its association with mourning attire, but mourning clothes were made of undyed hemp with a yellowish tint, and their colors varied due to different materials. In fact, white was sometimes worn during festivals, and it was more 'prestigious' than people think. Some online claims that the character wore white as a symbol of revenge are overinterpretations. Here's a quick overview of historical contexts for wearing 'white' in ancient China: White was one of the five traditional colors. Huainanzi states, 'When white is established, the five colors are complete,' highlighting its fundamental role. However, ancient Chinese white wasn't pure white by modern standards. Mourning garments were made of natural hemp, which was yellowish. Commoners' everyday work - wear was also undyed as dyes were costly, making plain fabrics practical. During the Sui dynasty, officials above the fifth rank wore purple; those below wore red or green; clerks wore blue; commoners wore white; butchers and merchants wore black; soldiers wore yellow. In…

After the beginning of spring, everything comes back to life. In this season when spring sets the tone and all things harmonize, both people and beauty are blessed. That's why there are poems like 'the wind carries the fragrance of flowers, the rain washes away the dust of spring, and people thrive with the season.' As Yu Guangzhong described, 'I don’t know how spring crossed the border, why customs couldn’t stop her, only that she arrived in a lively, bright procession with colorful banners.' Shi Tiesheng also explained the essence of spring: 'The entire spring, until summer, is a season where life enjoys its own charm.' This charm is not only the calls of emerald birds after winter hibernation and the flitting of delicate butterflies but also you and me finally shedding thick clothes to step into spring in light dresses. Today, let's focus on cheongsams that embody the beauty of spring. In such a vibrant season, how can we lack colorful companions? White Cheongsam Although defined as white, this cheongsam is closer to the traditional Chinese beige, with a slight yellow tint adding warmth to the translucent white. Paired with silk crepe de chine fabric, it has a soft,…

Some attentive netizens noticed: Why does Chen Duling's corset in When the Wild Geese Return have a front opening? What's the purpose of the split - like opening? Let's get to the point. In fact, front - opening corsets like this existed as early as the Ming Dynasty, known as Zhuyao (主腰). They were quite popular during the Yuan and Ming periods and were also called Hehuanjin (合欢襟). Their most distinctive feature was the front - opening, which could be fastened with ties or buttons. Some people also referred to Ming - Dynasty undergarments as Zhuyao instead of Moxiong (抹胸), just a matter of terminology. Artifacts show this style could have shoulder straps or not, and the straps could be crossed or parallel. Those without shoulder straps could still be categorized as Moxiong. Common Moxiong during the Song and Ming Dynasties were usually one - piece wraparound styles with ties, while Zhuyao had a front - opening design. This one - piece Moxiong was a long strip of cloth with ties on both sides, often gathered in the middle. It was a classic Hanfu undergarment and remained popular for a long time. In some regions, it was used as a…

Recently, stills of Guli Nazha wearing Hanfu were released. Netizens noticed the trendy collar - turning style. Did the Chinese in the Ming Dynasty already have polo shirts? Let's start with the conclusion. It's an adjusted way of wearing a standing collar. Some previously criticized Ming - style Hanfu for not showing the neck well and making the face look bigger. This collar - turning method is a great solution. It offers more styling options and allows better ventilation in summer by unbuttoning the collar, killing two birds with one stone. The Ming Dynasty was a period when 'polo - shirt - style' clothing was very popular. A short - sleeved standing - collar diagonal - closure shirt was unearthed from a Ming tomb. The small white folded collars in ancient paintings might be the effect of wearing such short garments underneath. I initially speculate this short garment meets key criteria for innerwear: it's plain or light - colored, versatile for pairing with outerwear; it uses ties instead of buttons, not interfering with the outer layer. Recall our previous explanation about the Tang Dynasty's round - collar robes. Their innerwear was often half - sleeved. This shows why innerwear often…

When gods fail to stop evil, they send a mortal woman back in time to change fate. But what if the villain she's meant to kill is the man she's destined to love? In Till the End of the Moon, fate is a battlefield—where love, betrayal, and memory collide. The heroine must enter the past, play bride to the future Demon King, and stop him before his darkness devours the world. But every step closer to his heart is one further from her mission. Because stopping the monster might mean destroying the man. The Demon in Disguise (Episodes 1–10) The world ends in fire. Five centuries ahead, the Demon God Tantai Jin, born of the cursed Evil Bone, incinerates humanity. Desperate, the gods hurl Li Susu—a cultivator forged in celestial discipline—into the body of Ye Xiwu, a noblewoman whose cruelty once scarred the exiled Sixth Prince, Tantai Jin. Her mission is clear: kill him before the Bone awakens. But the past is a mirror cracked. The boy-prince she finds is not a monster but a ghost in chains, starved and beaten, his wrists raw from shackles even his bride once tightened. Li Susu's first act as Ye Xiwu is a…

Ju Jingyi (鞠婧祎), a rising star in Chinese costume dramas, has carved a niche with her delicate visuals and evolving acting range. Known for roles blending elegance and resilience, she navigates genres from sweet romances to dark fantasies, defying criticisms of repetitive styling. While her early works leaned on "beauty-driven" tropes, recent projects like Hualing Ling reveal sharper emotional layers. This article explores her standout performances across seven costume dramas, highlighting how she balances ethereal charm with character depth—a journey from idol to actress. The Legend of White Snake 新白娘子传奇 Aired: 2019 Period Background: Mythological Southern Song Dynasty Genres: Fantasy, Romance, Mythology Main Roles: Ju Jingyi (Bai Suzhen), Yu Menglong (Xu Xian) Adapted From: Classic Chinese folklore Legend of the White Snake The 2019 reboot of The Legend of White Snake reimagines the classic Chinese myth of Bai Suzhen, a millennia-old snake spirit who descends to the mortal world. Departing from the 1992 version's focus on Bai's quest to repay a past savior, this adaptation centers on her serendipitous romance with Xu Xian, a humble physician. Set in the Southern Song Dynasty, the story explores Bai's dual identity as both a benevolent immortal and devoted lover. When celestial forces, led…

The Forbidden City's gilded cages are ruled by poison, not prayer. Forget the condensed 6-episode U.S. edit—Empress in the Palace (甄嬛传) demands its full 76-episode canvas to unravel Zhen Huan's metamorphosis from naive concubine to imperial tactician. This isn't a romance; it's a masterclass in psychological warfare. Every smile is a blade, every ally a liability, and every royal birth a gambit in a game where emperors bleed and dynasties crumble. Episodes 1–10: The Illusion of Innocence Seventeen-year-old Zhen Huan enters the Qing court not as a conqueror but a casualty, her fate sealed by a twist of cruel irony: her face mirrors that of Emperor Yongzheng's long-dead true love, Empress Chunyuan. This resemblance, a haunting inheritance, draws the emperor's gaze during the concubine selection ceremony—but Zhen, determined to avoid the lethal spotlight of imperial favor, quietly prays to fail. Yet destiny mocks her caution. When a butterfly alights on her friend An Lingrong's cheap silk flower (a trick Zhen orchestrated to help Lingrong pass the selection), the emperor's attention locks onto the trio: Zhen, Lingrong, and their poised companion Shen Meizhuang. In this moment, the series' core truth crystallizes: the harem rewards neither virtue nor vice, but the ability…

Chinese sci-fi animation is quietly undergoing a revolution. No longer confined to tropes of myth or fantasy, a new wave of creators is tackling speculative futures with precision and boldness. These works don't shout for attention; they earn it through sharp world-building, unflinching themes, and a refusal to simplify humanity's relationship with technology. From crumbling post-apocalyptic cities to AI-dominated dystopias, these stories ask urgent questions: What does survival cost? Can humanity evolve without losing itself? The answers are rarely comfortable but always compelling. Below are seven essential titles that define this movement—not as "cultural milestones" but as raw, inventive narratives. They prioritize substance over spectacle, proving that Chinese sci-fi animation isn't just catching up—it's carving its own path. Ling Cage: Incarnation 灵笼 In Ling Cage: Incarnation, humanity's survival hinges on a brutal calculus: sacrifice empathy or perish. The floating fortress Lighthouse enforces a genetic hierarchy where "Uppercitizens" hoard resources while "Dust Citizens" endure dehumanizing labor and insect-based diets. This system strips away human bonds—exemplified by the Dawn Hall's emotionless breeding rituals—reducing life to a eugenicist project. Mark, a Hunter captain tasked with scavenging a monster-infested Earth, initially upholds this order until discovering the Lighthouse's darkest secret: a cult sacrificing children…

Chinese romance animations thrive on bold storytelling and character-driven intimacy. Series like Fox Spirit Matchmaker hook viewers with immortal lovers defying reincarnation cycles, while No Doubt in Us reinvents relationship dynamics through a royal couple's body-swap chaos. These stories avoid tired tropes by grounding emotions in tangible stakes: a demon hunter's loyalty tested across lifetimes in Demon List, or a mortal girl unraveling celestial secrets in Contemplation of Affection. What unites them is razor-sharp focus on how characters earn love—whether battling societal expectations or their own flaws—making every confession or sacrifice resonate with raw, earned authenticity. Fox Spirit Matchmaker 狐妖小红娘 "Fox Spirit Matchmaker" redefines fantasy romance with its inventive premise of fox spirits bridging past and present loves. At its core lies the hauntingly beautiful saga of Dongfang Yuechu, a mortal warrior, and Tu Shan Honghong, a fox spirit matchmaker bound by centuries of duty. Their story isn't a straightforward courtship but a layered unraveling of identities—she must confront her role as an emotionless facilitator of others' romances while secretly yearning for her own; he grapples with fragmented memories of lives where their love repeatedly ended in tragedy. The series weaponizes reincarnation as both plot device and emotional catalyst. Flashbacks to past lives—as star-crossed lovers in imperial courts…

When Zhou Xun dons historical costumes, audiences hold their breath—this petite woman from Jiangnan watertowns carries half of China's epic history in her bones. As the soul-devouring fox spirit in Painted Skin, she laid bare human fragility beneath ethereal beauty; in Ruyi's Royal Love, her restrained sighs as an embattled empress turned palace intrigue into visceral poetry. From her deliberate whisper-pauses to the way her eyes flicker between vulnerability and cunning, we unpack how this actress bends time itself through roles that resonate across generations. Palace of Desire 大明宫词 Aired: 2000 Period Background: Tang Dynasty (618–907 AD), focusing on imperial intrigue. Genres: Historical, Romance, Political Drama Main Roles: Zhou Xun as Young Taiping Princess, Chen Hong as Adult Taiping, Gua Lunshu as Emperor Gaozong. Adapted From: Original screenplay by Wang Anyi. Palace of Desire traces the life of Taiping Princess, portrayed by Zhou Xun in her youth. The series begins with Taiping as a sheltered yet rebellious teenager, her curiosity clashing with the rigid imperial hierarchy. Her early escapades—sneaking into bustling markets, questioning court rituals—highlight her defiance against the suffocating palace life. However, her innocence shatters as she witnesses the ruthless political maneuvers of her mother, Empress Wu Zetian, particularly…

It's been 15 years since Chinese Paladin aired. Recently, Tang Yan's new drama look was unveiled, with her donning purple attire again. Netizens exclaimed, 'Time spares no one, but beauty endures—Zi Xuan is back!' For most, Tang Yan has an exceptional affinity for purple and forehead ornaments, largely because of her unforgettable role as Zi Xuan in Chinese Paladin. In the series, the primary colors of her character were purple and magenta. She wore a forehead ornament, complemented by pink accents. The play of color shades helped shape her character's adaptable personality, making purple and forehead ornaments a must - have for many when imagining a goddess. The forehead ornament stood out due to her prominent broad forehead, which conforms to the traditional aesthetic of a square and full forehead, exuding a sense of grandeur. Adding the ornament further enhanced her classical beauty. At that time, such a broad forehead was quite rare among female celebrities. Unfortunately, apart from the successful styling of Zi Xuan, Tang Yan rarely showed her broad forehead in later roles. She often chose bangs to cover it. Her subsequent styling continuously aimed for a youthful look, which influenced the style of her later characters. For…

In the historical cdrama, actors Chen Jin and Xu Jiao portray characters with distinctive eyebrow styles that exude an undeniable aura of authority. Unlike conventional female characters whose eyebrows taper downward or remain straight, their eyebrow tails sweep dramatically upward. This unique style, known as Hanyan Mei (涵烟眉) or Fuyun Mei (拂云眉), was particularly popular during the early Tang Dynasty through the Wu Zhou period. Characterized by sharp inner corners and finely separated hairs at the tails, this eyebrow style sometimes featured a narrower, more arched peak, also referred to as Yuanshan Mei (远山眉). Ancient Chinese literature, such as the Fengguang Ci by a Tang Dynasty poetess, describes these eyebrows as ethereal as mist or drifting clouds. Their upward sweep not only added a touch of independence and confidence but also became a defining feature in murals and paintings from that era. Compared to the softer Juan Yan Mei (罥烟眉), Hanyan Mei was bolder and more vibrant, leaving a lasting impression. Modern adaptations in film and television have softened its intensity, blending strength with elegance. Modern Applications and Tips This eyebrow style, often seen in strong female roles like those in Zhang Xin, enhances facial structure by filling the temple…

The historical drama Si Jin has brought attention to the fascinating clothing culture of ancient China, particularly the sleeveless garments worn by actress Jing Tian. These garments, known as Beixin (背心) or Bijia (比甲), were popular during the Song, Yuan, and Ming dynasties. They were typically worn over other clothing and featured a front-opening design with slits on both sides, extending to below the knees. Archaeological findings from the Southern Song Dynasty, such as those from the Huang Sheng tomb, reveal a variety of sleeveless garments, including Beixin, long and short shirts, two-piece skirts, and more. These garments were lightweight and breathable, making them ideal for summer wear. For instance, one dark peony-patterned Beixin measured 70 cm in length, 44 cm in waist width, and weighed only 16.7 grams—lighter than half a liang (两), a traditional Chinese unit of weight. These sleeveless garments were favored by both noblewomen and commoners. They could be worn alone at home or layered with other clothing for outdoor activities. The Ming Dynasty saw variations like Gua (褂) or Bijia, which could be worn with or without an inner Moxiong (抹胸). The lightweight fabric sometimes revealed the inner garment, adding a touch of color and…