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…

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…

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…

Hanfu (汉服, traditional Chinese clothing) isn’t just a nostalgic trend—it’s a global movement. What began as a niche subculture in China has evolved into a thriving industry, with brands blending historical accuracy with modern wearability. Forget stiff costumes; today’s Hanfu ranges from silk-adorned ceremonial robes to minimalist office-friendly pieces. Here’s a breakdown of the brands driving this revival, their signature styles, and why they resonate with Gen Z shoppers from Los Angeles to Jakarta. 1. Minghuatang (明华堂) Founded in 2007, this Guangzhou-based label has become synonymous with meticulous craftsmanship and eye-watering price tags—think ¥10,000 ($1,400) for a single set, with wait times stretching up to a year. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=guu1ad17AH8 The Founder’s Obsession Hong Kong-born Zhong Yi (钟毅), a fashion design graduate from Guangzhou Academy of Fine Arts, noticed something odd in the early 2000s: At formal events, Koreans wore hanbok, Japanese wore kimono, but Chinese attendees rarely wore Hanfu. He started designing his own pieces, wearing them daily to normalize the tradition. In 2007, he co-founded Minghuatang with a clear mission: to recreate historically accurate Ming Dynasty (1368–1644) attire with museum-level precision. What Justifies the Price? Minghuatang’s garments aren’t just costumes—they’re wearable history. Every stitch follows 15th-century texts and artifacts, from…

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…

During the Song Dynasty, pearl embellishments were a widespread fashion trend, but contrary to popular belief, the number and placement of pearls did not signify social status or rank. While official attire for noblewomen and imperial consorts had strict regulations regarding patterns and motifs—such as the number of dragons or phoenixes on headdresses—pearl adornments were never subject to such hierarchical rules. Online claims suggesting that the quantity of pearls indicated one's rank are simply unfounded interpretations. Pearls were a universal fashion statement. Even the empress wouldn’t cover her entire face in pearls, as there were only a few suitable spots for application: between the eyebrows, from the corners of the eyes to the temples, and on the dimples. Though the number of pearls didn’t reflect social rank, using more pearls naturally hinted at a wealthier background. Affluent families didn’t just wear pearls on their faces or as jewelry; they also embellished collars, cuffs, carpets, and even furniture with pearls, turning them into a ubiquitous decorative element. One popular style was the 'Zhuluo' (珠络), where pearls were sewn along collars, hems, and seams to accentuate the wearer’s status. Princesses’ dowries included pearl-adorned formal gowns and long coats, as well as 'Pearl…

South Korea has recently introduced a new initiative to promote its traditional attire, Hanbok, by designating the last Wednesday of every month as 'Hanbok Day.' This move has sparked discussions online, with some netizens humorously commenting, 'They're really in a hurry!' The initiative is part of a broader plan to revitalize traditional cultural industries, as outlined by the Ministry of Culture, Sports, and Tourism. Under this plan, public officials and employees of government agencies are encouraged to wear Hanbok on the designated day. Additionally, specific national holidays and commemorative days, such as Independence Movement Day and Hangul Day, will now have Hanbok as the recommended attire. To further promote Hanbok, museums, art galleries, and overseas cultural centers will adopt it as the uniform for their staff. The government has also established the third week of October as 'Hanbok Culture Week' to encourage wider participation. This initiative comes amid growing interest in traditional attire across East Asia, including discussions in China about establishing a 'Hanfu Day' to celebrate traditional Han Chinese clothing. While South Korea's efforts are comprehensive, covering official support, public participation, and cultural promotion, the debate continues on how best to preserve and promote traditional garments in modern society.…

In the ancient costume drama 'The National Beauty and Fragrance,' these two grand wedding crowns have sparked much discussion, primarily due to their extravagance and intricate details. From a cultural relic perspective, they seem to reference certain prototypes, appearing quite authentic at first glance. However, upon closer inspection, something feels off. Why is that? Previously, we discussed the 'sky-high' crown of Princess Xianzhu, Li Chui. For those interested, you can refer to another article. Today, we’ll focus on the crown worn by Yang Zi’s character, He Weifang, during her wedding. It’s worth noting that the crowns in these dramas are becoming increasingly lavish. Interestingly, what’s referred to as a 'crown' here is more akin to a set of accessories in Tang Dynasty style. Let’s delve deeper. To start with a conclusion, this crown’s original prototype likely stems from the crown of Empress Xiao of the Sui Dynasty. Although it underwent some stylistic changes during the Sui and Tang Dynasties, it retained elements like hairpins (Chaidian) and side ornaments (Bobin) as markers of status. Regardless of these changes, the number of Bobin and floral decorations (Huashu or Huadian) was still determined by the rank of noblewomen or female officials. According to…

Recently, baby hair bangs have made a reappearance in historical dramas. While these bangs can help contour the face, they often seem out of place in classical settings. Historically, adult women in ancient China did not wear bangs, as they were considered a transitional hairstyle for children whose hair had not fully grown. Upon reaching adulthood, women would style their hair neatly using traditional hair products like "paohua shui" (刨花水), emphasizing elegance and sophistication. Although baby hair or air bangs may appear more natural compared to other fringe styles, they still disrupt the authenticity of classical aesthetics. This article focuses solely on the appropriateness of bangs in historical contexts, not on personal appearances. Retaining baby hair bangs can make a character look immature. For instance, actress Ju Jingyi (鞠婧祎) was often criticized for her unchanging baby hair bangs, but her recent updos have showcased a more mature and classical demeanor. In the drama "The Purple Hairpin," the inclusion of such bangs felt particularly jarring amidst otherwise historically accurate hairstyles. Conversely, in "The Riverside Scene at Qingming Festival," Zhang Xinyu's (张馨予) noblewoman look without bangs exuded grandeur. The no - bangs style cleverly utilized "yunbin" (云鬓), a classical hairstyle from the…

Recent photos of actress Chen Duling wearing an elaborate phoenix crown hairstyle have ignited online discussions about the differences between Ming and Qing dynasty headwear traditions. While many praised the aesthetic, others questioned whether the design leaned too heavily toward Qing influences. Key Distinctions Between Ming and Qing Phoenix Crowns: 1. Structure: Ming crowns typically featured full - coverage designs, whereas Qing crowns (especially post - mid - Qing) often showed partial coverage or hybrid styles like the flattened Dianzi (钿子) hairpieces. 2. Ornamentation Patterns: Ming crowns followed strict hierarchical rules with symbolic arrangements of dragons (gold wirework) and phoenixes (kingfisher feather inlays). Qing designs displayed more eclectic combinations of decorative elements. 3. Hanging Decorations: Ming pieces used pearl/malachite beaded 'tassels' (挑牌) on sides, while Qing versions developed dramatic front/side pearl curtains (珠帘) that eventually obscured the face in late - Qing fashion. 4. Cultural Accessibility: Ming crowns remained exclusive to noblewomen, but Qing versions became accessible to wealthy commoners, explaining why more Qing - era examples survive today. Only four intact Ming crowns exist, all housed in Beijing museums. Historical Context: The Qing Dianzi evolved from early 'head wrapping' styles, featuring decorative hairpin flowers on semi/fully - covered bases.…

Many people's impressions of female officials in the Ming Dynasty may come from two TV dramas: 'Shang Shi' and 'The Imperial Doctress.' The former is a work by Yu Zheng, while the latter is directed by Li Guoli. The influence of these dramas is undeniable, shaping public perception. Some might ask: Did female officials really dress so lavishly, adorned with gold and silver? Let’s explore what these officials actually looked like. The Palace Official System Emperor Hongwu, when establishing the palace official system, referred to previous dynasties' practices and set up six departments and one supervisory office: Shanggong (尚宫), Shangyi (尚仪), Shangfu (尚服), Shangshi (尚食), Shangqin (尚寝), and Shanggong (尚功), along with the Gongzheng Si (宫正司). The duties of female officials were broadly divided into routine palace responsibilities and ceremonial roles in royal events. The system was perfected during the Hongwu era, becoming the standard for later generations. Attire Inheritance From the Tang to the Ming Dynasty, the attire of female officials was largely inherited. According to historical records like 'Ming Shilu' and 'Da Ming Ji Li,' they typically wore black gauze hats (some resembling Tang - style headwear), narrow - sleeved round - collared robes, leather belts at the…

In the recent TV series "The Purple Hairpin," actor Ye Zuxin's portrayal of a crown prince has sparked discussions among viewers, particularly regarding the authenticity of his costume. A key point of contention is why a crown prince would wear a robe adorned with five - clawed dragons. To clarify, the gunlongpao (衮龙袍), a round - collared robe featuring circular dragon motifs, was a common attire for Ming Dynasty emperors, crown princes, and imperial relatives. This garment, paired with the yishanguan (翼善冠) hat, was worn during various court activities, lectures, and ceremonies. Contrary to popular belief, the five - clawed dragon design was not exclusive to the emperor but was shared among the imperial family, with variations in the number of dragon motifs. The misconception that only the emperor could wear five - clawed dragons stems from Qing Dynasty dress codes, not Ming traditions. Over time, the gunlongpao evolved, incorporating more elaborate designs for formal occasions, such as the addition of twelve symbolic patterns during the reign of Emperor Yingzong. These patterns, representing elements like the sun, moon, and stars, were reserved for grand ceremonies, making the robes more ornate than everyday wear. The series, while attempting to recreate Ming…