In the historical drama 'Guo Se Fang Hua,' many viewers noticed that Dong Jie's character, Feng Xiaoyi, stood out with a unique accessory—a piece of fabric wrapped around her chest, commonly referred to as 'Wei Shang' (围裳). This ancient fashion element, often humorously called 'butt curtain' in modern slang, has a rich history and cultural significance. What is 'Wei Shang'? 'Wei Shang,' which translates to 'surrounding skirt,' was a versatile garment in ancient China. It could be a single piece of fabric, multiple panels sewn together, or even a pleated design, depending on the fashion trends of the time. Scholars also refer to it as 'Yao Qun' (腰裙), described in 'The Dictionary of Ancient Chinese Clothing' as a short skirt worn around the waist. Research by Ruan Li from Shanghai University further defines it as a wide band tied around the hips, often adorned with decorative knots or beads. This accessory was not just for aesthetics; it served practical purposes too. In winter, it could be padded with cotton for warmth, while in summer, lighter fabrics were used for breathability. The 'Wei Shang' added layers and dimension to outfits, much like the tiered designs of Western cake dresses. Fashion Trends…

Did you know that ear muffs existed in ancient times? Recent historical dramas like "Tian Geng Ji" and "Jin Nang Miao Lu" have showcased these fluffy ear coverings, which bear a striking resemblance to the ones we use today. The answer is simple: ancient people naturally didn’t want their ears to freeze in winter, so they invented these accessories—though they were primarily used by wealthier families. Names in Ancient China In ancient China, these ear-warming accessories had various names, such as Er Nuan (耳暖), Er Yi (耳衣), and Hu Er (护耳). During the Tang Dynasty, they were called Er Yi (耳衣), specifically designed to protect ears from winter’s harsh cold. The poet Li Kuo once wrote: "The golden belt is heavy, the iron-sewn Er Yi is cold." The word "iron" here was later annotated as "brocade," suggesting that these ear covers might have been made of luxurious brocade or fur. While their exact design remains unknown, murals and figurines hint at two styles: one with long fur strips hanging from the ears and another with fabric covers tied at the sides. Evolution in the Ming Dynasty By the Ming Dynasty, a new iteration called Nuan Er (暖耳) emerged and was…

Recently, the lead actress's look in Princess Agents 2 was revealed, featuring Huang Yangdiantian wearing a double-loop hairstyle known as Shuang Huan Wang Xian Ji, adorned with golden Buyao (步摇) hairpins. Netizens commented that this might be the only look in the series that closely resembles the historical setting of the story. Although Princess Agents is a fictional tale, its backdrop is closest to the Northern Zhou Dynasty of the Northern and Southern Dynasties period, given the prominence of aristocratic families like the Yu Wen clan. During this era, Buyao hairpins were a symbol of status and nobility, which explains why fans are praising this particular look. Buyao is a general term for hair ornaments that sway with movement. It gained popularity among the upper class during the Han and Jin Dynasties, becoming a signature accessory for noblewomen. Historical texts like Shi Ming · Shi Shou Shi from the Han Dynasty describe Buyao as "hairpins with dangling pearls that sway with each step." The Hou Han Shu · Yu Fu Zhi also mentions Buyao as part of the empress's ceremonial attire. These ornaments varied in design, from standalone hairpins to elaborate crowns, often decorated with motifs like trees, flowers, leaves,…

In the historical drama Guose Fanghua, the wedding crowns have sparked much discussion due to their opulence and intricate details. While they appear to be modeled after historical artifacts, a closer examination reveals some discrepancies. This article delves into the fascinating world of these crowns, exploring their origins, design, and the historical accuracy behind them. The Prototype: Empress Xiao's Crown The crown worn by the character He Weifang, played by Yang Zi, seems to be inspired by the crown of Empress Xiao from the Sui Dynasty. Over time, the design evolved through the Tang Dynasty, retaining elements like the Chaidian (hairpins) and Bobin (side ornaments) as markers of status. However, the crown's design in the drama doesn't perfectly align with the character's social standing, as historical records indicate that such crowns were reserved for high-ranking noblewomen. During the Tang Dynasty, women favored high buns, with the height and complexity of the hairstyle reflecting their social status. Noblewomen wore elaborate hair ornaments, including gold hairpins, in symmetrical pairs for formal occasions. The number of Huashu (floral ornaments) and Huadian (floral hairpins) varied by rank, with empresses wearing twelve and first-rank noblewomen wearing nine, decreasing by rank. The Components of the Crown…

In the TV series 'Guo Se Fang Hua,' the wedding crown worn by the county princess has sparked heated discussions. While it was directly modeled after the Li Chui Crown from archaeological findings, many netizens question whether it was 'worn incorrectly.' The answer is that the crown referenced in the show might itself be a beautiful mistake in restoration. Nevertheless, the series remains a well - researched production, though some details still require refinement. Restoration isn't about simple 'copy - paste'—many fragmented or incomplete artifacts require contextual understanding of their era and usage. Minor errors are understandable, and viewers shouldn't judge the entire series based on isolated inaccuracies. Unearthed Situation and Replica Controversy Li Chui, the granddaughter of Emperor Li Yuan, gave up her title for love and had no official rank. However, she might still have been buried with corresponding accessories. When the Li Chui Crown was unearthed, both the crown and hair had disintegrated, leading to potential distortions. The reference prototype, displayed at the Shaanxi Archaeological Museum (not a permanent exhibit), is a controversial replica restored by German experts. The crown's discovery was groundbreaking, as relatively intact Tang Dynasty headpieces are rare. While experts initially proposed various theories,…

In various historical dramas like 'Secret Records of the Brocade Bag' and 'Rain Clouds Over Ink', we often see women wearing a piece of cloth over their heads when going out. These women weren't necessarily heading to weddings - so what was the purpose of this head covering? The answer lies in what was known as the 'Gaitou' (盖头) during the Song Dynasty. The Song Dynasty inherited many systems from the Tang Dynasty, including its clothing customs. According to Zhou Hui's 'Qingbo Magazine': 'Scholars wore cool robes when riding horses, while women walking in public places covered half their bodies with square purple silk veils, commonly called Gaitou, which followed the Tang Dynasty Weimao (帷帽) tradition.' This reveals that the Song Dynasty Gaitou evolved from the Tang Dynasty Weimao. However, there were differences between the two. As noted by scholar Shen Congwen: 'The Weimao was a stiff hat with a hanging net curtain,' essentially a bamboo hat with a black net. The Gaitou was simpler - just a square piece of fabric, often made of silk ('Luo'), that could cover half the body. Shen Congwen wrote: 'The Gaitou was indeed a common head covering for Song Dynasty women.' Gao Cheng…

In the Tang Dynasty, it was considered outdated for women not to wear large flowers in their hair. Today, who would dare to wear such big, red flowers? The Tang people's preference for peony hairpins was inseparable from their love for peonies. Because peonies were sufficiently luxurious and gorgeous, and some rare varieties were even more precious, it was necessary to wear a whole flower to display one's status. Moreover, after wearing a peony, other flowers could not be worn, hence the popular custom of wearing a single large flower on the head. Additionally, the Tang Dynasty's "big head" hairstyle left some blank space, making a large flower appear less "flashy." The most famous example is the "Court Ladies Wearing Flowers" painting, which perfectly illustrates this adornment. This custom of wearing flowers reached its fashion peak during the High Tang period. However, as peonies were not easy to obtain, women also adorned their hair with lotus flowers, crabapple flowers, gardenias, and peonies as symbols of wealth and status. Not only women but also men wore flowers, often on their turbans. Some opted for modest small flowers, while others flaunted large blooms. How much did the Tang people love peonies? Every…

In modern historical dramas, it's common to see characters wearing skirts with extravagant long trains. This naturally raises questions: Are these designs purely for cinematic effect, or were they practical in daily life? Did ancient people really wear such garments without worrying about dirt? Some netizens humorously remark that these skirts could double as mops. Not All Hanfu Had Long Trains First, let's clarify that not all Hanfu (traditional Chinese clothing) features long trains. While there are indeed styles with trailing hems, these were typically reserved for formal occasions or ceremonial wear, not everyday attire for commoners. Even nobles didn't wear such cumbersome skirts daily—they were reserved for grand, formal events. Exceptions Due to Fashion Trends However, there were exceptions driven by fashion trends. During certain periods, especially in the mid - to - late stages of dynasties, affluent families in society embraced extravagant styles, including wide - sleeved robes and floor - length skirts. This phenomenon, often associated with the 'decadent luxuries' of a dynasty's decline, involved garments worn infrequently, frequently changed, and maintained with the help of servants—thus minimizing concerns about cleanliness. Practicality in Daily Wear For daily wear, practicality was key. Historical artifacts reveal that the average…

Bilibili has become a hub for high-quality Chinese animation, offering diverse genres and fresh storytelling. This list highlights standout titles that resonate with both casual viewers and anime enthusiasts, prioritizing engaging plots and unique styles over abstract praise. The Outcast 一人之下 The Outcast (2016-present) is a Chinese animated series blending urban fantasy, dark comedy, and martial arts. With 5 seasons so far, it follows Zhang Chulan, a college student dragged into the hidden world of "Heteromorphs"—people with supernatural abilities—after his estranged grandfather’s death. Teaming up with the enigmatic, deadpan Feng Baby (who wields kitchen knives and an immortal past), he uncovers family secrets while dodging rival factions seeking ancient power. The show stands out for balancing gritty action with quirky humor. Fight scenes mix traditional Chinese martial arts (like Baguazhang) with creative superpowers—a villain manipulates chess pieces as weapons; another controls paper. The animation, while not ultra-polished, delivers kinetic choreography and distinct character designs, especially in later seasons. Character dynamics drive the story. Zhang Chulan evolves from a cynical slacker to a cunning strategist, using wit rather than brute strength. Feng Baby’s emotionless demeanor hides tragic depth, and villains like the scheming Wang Ye feel layered—driven by ambition, not pure…

Love and Destiny (宸汐缘) is a sweeping celestial romance where gods and mortals clash in a world of divine law, ancient prophecies, and love that defies fate. At its core is the slow-burning relationship between Jiu Chen, a war-weary god bound by cosmic duty, and Ling Xi, a spirited fairy whose very existence threatens to awaken a long-dormant evil. As their bond deepens, loyalties shift, and the cost of love becomes a question not of happy endings, but of whether the world can survive their connection. Can their love endure across three lifetimes—or will it unravel the very heavens? Chapter 1: The Spark of Fate (Episodes 1–10) "A Peach Blossom, a God's Oath, and the Apocalypse in Disguise" Love and Destiny opens not with thunderous wars or grand deities, but with a world haunted by the past. Jiu Chen (played by Chang Chen), the solemn God of War, has returned to the heavenly realm after centuries of sleep following his defeat of the Dark Lord. Though restored in body, he remains emotionally distant, weighed down by the cost of war and the fragility of peace. Enter Ling Xi (played by Ni Ni), a carefree and optimistic fairy living a quiet…

What if your family stood at the peak of honor—only for you to watch it collapse from within? What if the legacy you're meant to carry… is a trap? Would you carry a legacy that could kill you? Welcome to Nirvana in Fire II: The Wind Blows in Changlin—where loyalty bleeds, power devours, and every smile could hide a blade. Chapter 1: The Shadow of the Past (EP 1–10) The story begins not with triumph, but with absence. Years ago, the flames of political treachery consumed the Chiyan Army—an elite force wrongfully condemned for treason, only to be posthumously exonerated through the sacrifice and strategy of Lin Shu, also known as Mei Changsu. His quiet war of wits reshaped the imperial court, dethroned a corrupt crown prince, and placed a young, idealistic emperor on the throne. It was a new beginning—or so it seemed. Now, nearly two decades later, the scars of that past still linger beneath the surface. The once-glorious Changlin Army, formed in the aftermath of Chiyan's tragedy, stands as the empire's last great shield. Led by Prince Xiao Tingsheng—Lin Shu's uncle by blood and brother in arms—the Changlin banner represents discipline, justice, and unwavering loyalty to the…

Before Michelle Yeoh—Michelle Yeoh (杨紫琼)—became a global icon, she was already a standout presence in Chinese-language costume films. While most international fans know her from films like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, her roles in historical TV films are just as revealing. These films show a different side of Yeoh: not just a martial artist, but a storyteller navigating dynastic intrigue, loyalty, and sacrifice. Her work in costume films isn't extensive, but it's meaningful. Each project—whether based on classic wuxia novels or original scripts—places her in morally complex roles shaped by tradition, power, and personal duty. She's played warriors, nobles, and strategists, all grounded in different periods of Chinese history. This article highlights some of her most notable films—both mainstream and lesser-known—where history meets performance with striking results. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon 卧虎藏龙 Released: 2000 Period Background: Set during the Qing Dynasty, but in a fictionalized jianghu world Genres: Wuxia, Historical Fantasy, Action, film Main Roles: Michelle Yeoh as Yu Shu Lien; Chow Yun-fat as Li Mu Bai; Zhang Ziyi as Jen Yu Adapted From: The fourth novel in the Crane-Iron pentalogy by Wang Dulu The film tells the story of Li Mu Bai, a legendary swordsman who plans to retire…

Fan Bingbing (范冰冰) , known for her magnetic presence in historical dramas, Fan doesn't just act—she resurrects legends. Take The Legend of Wu Mei Niang, where she transforms into Wu Zetian, the Tang Dynasty's ruthless empress. In one scene, Fan's character coldly outmaneuvers a rival, her gaze sharp as the ceremonial dagger she wields. Moments like these—raw, tense, and steeped in history—define her roles. From mischievous maids to cunning monarchs, Fan's performances bridge centuries, offering viewers not just entertainment but a visceral connection to China's dynastic sagas. The Legend of Wu Mei Niang 武媚娘传奇 Aired: 2014–2015 Period Background: Tang Dynasty (618–907 CE) Genres: Historical, Political Drama Main Roles: Fan Bingbing as Wu Zetian (武则天), Zhang Fengyi as Emperor Taizong Adapted From: Historical accounts of China's only female emperor Spanning 80 episodes, the series chronicles Wu's ascent from a curious palace maid to China's only female emperor, a journey Fan embodies with striking nuance. Her performance captures both the vulnerability of young Wu Ruyi, who defies court norms by refusing to kneel during her first encounter with Emperor Taizong, and the calculated ruthlessness of the ruler who later dismantles political rivals. A standout moment occurs when Fan's Wu, wielding a ceremonial…

Jackson Yee (易烊千玺) isn't just a pop idol turned actor—he's a master at breathing life into historical roles. From strategists to poets, his costume dramas blend sharp storytelling with meticulous period details, making history feel urgent and relatable. Take The Longest Day in Chang'an, where he plays Li Bi, a Tang Dynasty genius racing against a 12-hour terrorist plot. The series doesn't just showcase palace politics; it thrusts viewers into dusty market alleys and smoke-filled war rooms, with Yi's calm intensity anchoring every scene. Or consider Hot Blooded Youth, where his character A Yi evolves from a revenge-driven orphan to a revolutionary hero, mirroring China's turbulent shift from dynasty to republic. These roles aren't pageantry—they're about flawed, thinking characters navigating crises that still echo today: corruption, identity, and sacrifice. Here are 3 Historical Series with Jackson Yee that you'll love watching over and over again. The Longest Day in Chang'an 长安十二时辰 Aired: 2019 Period Background: Tang Dynasty, during the Tianbao era under Emperor Xuanzong's reign, a golden age marked by cultural prosperity and political intrigue. Genres: Costume suspense, political thriller, action Main Roles: Lei Jiayin as Zhang Xiaojing, a disgraced detective-turned-prisoner; Jackson Yee as Li Bi, a prodigious young strategist.…

Under the Moonlight (锦囊妙录) offers a refreshing take for viewers tired of over-the-top fantasy romances in historical dramas. This Ming Dynasty-set mystery series combines crime-solving with a grounded, emotionally complex love triangle—a rare feat in a genre often dominated by clichés. With no flashy special effects or exaggerated power dynamics, the show focuses on relatable characters navigating personal growth, moral dilemmas, and realistic relationships. Breaking Stereotypes The story follows Luo Shu (Hu Bingqing), a former music courtesan turned detective, as she works to clear her name and gain freedom from her "low-status" identity. Her partners in crime-solving are Qi Menglin (Zhai Zilu), the impulsive yet well-meaning son of a high-ranking official, and Han Muzhi (played by an understated but compelling actor), a pragmatic county magistrate. What sets the love triangle apart is its avoidance of typical tropes: No "Chosen One" Nonsense: Luo Shu isn't a flawless genius. Her strength lies in sharp observation and emotional intelligence, particularly when interacting with female victims. Realistic Conflicts: Han Muzhi, engaged to a governor's daughter, initially prioritizes career over love. When he falls for Luo Shu, their relationship faces tangible barriers—class differences and existing obligations—not mythical curses. Growth Over Grand Gestures: Qi Menglin evolves…

In various Chinese historical dramas such as Jiuchong Zi, Jinnang Miaolu, Futu Yuan, and Canghai Zhuan, actors like Xiao Zhan, Li Yunrui, Wang Hedi, and Zhai Zilu are often seen wearing what appears to be stockings or fishnets on their heads. However, these are not stockings but a traditional headgear known as Wangjin (网巾), a net-like accessory used by adult men in the Ming Dynasty to tie and gather loose hair. Practical Uses of Wangjin Wangjin was primarily used to keep hair in place and prevent hats from slipping. It was a practical accessory for daily life, especially among commoners who wore it without additional head coverings. For those of higher social status, Wangjin was often worn under formal hats during important occasions. The popularity of Wangjin can be traced back to Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang of the Ming Dynasty. According to historical records, Zhu Yuanzhang once visited a Taoist temple in casual attire and observed a priest weaving Wangjin under lamplight. Intrigued, he inquired about its purpose and later issued a decree mandating its use across the empire, regardless of social status. Wangjin typically featured a top drawstring called Wangdai (网带), tied at the crown, and small strings at the…

In the historical drama 'The Glory of Tang,' a stunning peacock crown caught the audience's attention. This crown, inspired by a real artifact from the Tang Dynasty, raises the question: Did people in the Tang Dynasty really wear peacocks on their heads? The answer lies in the exquisite craftsmanship and cultural significance of the era. The design of the peacock crown is based on a painted pottery figurine of a horseback female drummer, housed in the Xi'an Museum. This figurine belonged to Jinxiang Xianzhu (金乡县主), the granddaughter of Emperor Gaozu of Tang, Li Yuan, and the third daughter of Li Yuanying, the Prince of Teng. The artifacts excavated from her tomb reveal a life of luxury and sophistication, vividly depicting the prosperity of the Tang Dynasty. Xianzhu (县主) was a title within the Zongnü (宗女) hierarchy, a system that defined the status and privileges of royal women. This hierarchy included titles such as Gongzhu (公主, princess), Junzhu (郡主, princess of the crown prince), and Xianzhu (princess of a prince), each with distinct ranks and privileges. For instance, Gongzhu held the first rank, Junzhu the second, and Xianzhu the third. As a second-rank noblewoman, Xianzhu wore elaborate attire, including a Diyi…

Have you ever wondered why some classical Chinese portraits depict women with strikingly red cheeks that almost look like bruises? This distinctive look is actually an intentional and celebrated makeup style from ancient China called Jiuyun Zhuang (酒晕妆), or "Drunk Blush Makeup." This bold cosmetic trend originated during the prosperous Tang Dynasty (618 - 907 AD), particularly popular during Empress Wu Zetian's reign. The style involved applying vibrant red pigment across large portions of the face - not just the cheeks, but often extending to the eyelids, jawline, and even ears. Historical records from the Zhuangtai Ji (妆台记), an ancient Chinese cosmetic manual, describe three intensity levels of this look: the most dramatic Jiuyun Zhuang (Drunk Blush), the softer Taohua Zhuang (Peach Blossom Makeup), and the subtle Feixia Zhuang (Flying Sunset Makeup). Beauty Standard of the Time What modern eyes might perceive as excessive was actually a sophisticated beauty standard of its time. The warm Wozhe (渥赭) hue - a traditional pigment made from cinnabar and ink - served multiple purposes: enhancing healthy complexion, creating facial dimension, and projecting an image of vitality. During mid - Tang period, women often paired this look with bold eyebrows for an even more…

In many historical dramas, the veiled hat, known as Weimao (帷帽), is an indispensable element. A classic scene often features the heroine making her first appearance, with the wind lifting the delicate veil to reveal her breathtaking beauty. This accessory has earned the playful nickname "beautiful yet useless" among netizens, highlighting its aesthetic appeal over practicality. Origin and Features The Weimao originated as a decorative item in Hu (胡) attire. Before its emergence, another style called Mili (羃篱), made of bamboo, was prevalent. Typically crafted from cloth or gauze, the Weimao features a wide brim with hanging silk nets or thin silk panels that extend to the neck, serving as a face cover. During the Sui and Tang dynasties, the hanging nets were shortened, earning it the name "Qianlu" (浅露). Unlike the Mili, which covered the entire body, the Weimao's veil only concealed the upper body. Early Usage Historical records, such as those in the "Book of Jin," note that both men and women initially wore the Mili to shield themselves from wind and sand. Over time, it became predominantly a women's accessory, used to obscure their faces from public view during outings. Some humorously suggest that introverts might have…

In a whirl of silk and sweeping sleeves, the third Caoxian County Hanfu Cultural Festival (曹县汉服文化节) recently unveiled its 2025 spring-summer collection, dazzling audiences with runway shows that spotlighted 320 brands from 160 local companies. This spectacle wasn’t just eye candy—it cemented Caoxian’s reputation as China’s undisputed Hanfu capital. The county’s rise began in 2024 when its Horse-Face Skirts (马面裙) became a Lunar New Year sensation, propelling Caoxian to dominate 50% of China’s Hanfu market with ¥12 billion ($1.7 billion) in annual sales. By 2025, projections suggest a 15.8% quarterly growth spike. But how did this rural county transform fleeting hype into lasting influence? Government as Growth Catalyst “I finished all licensing paperwork in one day—unthinkable elsewhere!” exclaimed Mr. Li, a Hanfu manufacturer expanding his workshop. At Caoxian’s government service center, nine approval processes for Hanfu businesses were streamlined into a single “one-stop” portal, slashing processing time by 93% and paperwork by 44%. "Businesses drive this industry, but our role is to remove roadblocks," said Zhao Fulong, Caoxian’s Party Secretary. This efficiency-first ethos has fueled a manufacturing boom: today, one in two Hanfu garments nationwide originates from Caoxian factories. While viral TikTok moments grab headlines, Caoxian’s real edge lies underground—18,000…