Wang Churan

When Xin Yunlai (辛云来) appeared in behind-the-scenes photos for the new historical drama The Ming Dynasty Youth (明月录), set in Ming Dynasty China, social media erupted with comments about his costume. Many users claimed his wide-brimmed hat resembled styles from Korean historical dramas, igniting a debate over cultural influences. However, this headwear is actually a traditional Chinese item known as Damao (大帽), commonly worn by scholars and officials during the Ming era. This misconception highlights a broader issue where media portrayals can blur historical origins, leading audiences to misattribute cultural elements. As historical shows gain global popularity, understanding the authentic roots of such attire becomes crucial for preserving heritage and fostering accurate cultural appreciation. The drama, starring Xin Yunlai and Wang Churan (王楚然) in their first Ming-era collaboration, serves as a reminder that entertainment can shape perceptions, making it vital to delve into the facts behind the fashion. Hat Origins The Damao featured in The Ming Dynasty Youth is characterized by its broad, straight brim and varied shapes, from tall to short, and round to nearly square. Crafted from materials like bamboo, palm leaves, or felt, it was designed for practicality, offering protection from sun and wind during outdoor activities.…

In the popular period drama The Ming Dynasty Youth (明月录), actress Wang Churan (王楚然) wears a long, flowing top that extends to her ankles, nearly obscuring the skirt beneath. This styling choice has sparked online debates about historical accuracy and fashion sense. Viewers question whether such lengthy garments were common in ancient times and if they diminish the visual appeal of traditional attire like the horse-face skirt. The discussion highlights a broader curiosity about how historical clothing influences contemporary costume design in television. This article explores the origins and significance of these elongated tops, tracing their roots to the late Ming Dynasty and examining their modern reinterpretations. Historical Roots During the late Ming period, particularly after the mid-Jiajing (嘉靖) era, women's fashion saw a shift toward longer, more subdued garments. Historical records, such as those by scholar Yang Shen (杨慎) in his work Sheng'an Waiji (升庵外集), note that women's tops resembled men's attire in length, often hanging just above the ground. This style emphasized a slender, effortless silhouette, with sleeves so wide they could span over a meter. The trend reflected societal changes, as economic pressures led to a preference for simplicity over opulence. Garments from this era, like those…

In the historical drama Serenade of Peaceful Joy (清平乐), actress Wang Churan (王楚然) sparked online buzz with a headpiece that viewers likened to a lavish cream cake. This striking ivory crown, worn by her character Zhang Meihan (张妼晗), is far more than a stylistic whim. It is a meticulous recreation of the Chonglouzhi Guan (重楼子冠), a headdress whose design and name were inspired by a prized peony species recorded in the Song Dynasty text Record of Luoyang Flowers and Trees (洛阳花木记). This dramatic accessory opens a window into the sophisticated world of Song aesthetics, where fashion, botany, and social hierarchy intertwined to create some of history's most elegant and meaningful headwear. A Crown Fit for a Flower The real-life inspiration for the crown was the Chonglouzhi peony, cultivated by skilled gardeners to grow over two feet tall with layers of petals that resembled a stacked pavilion. Artisans, captivated by this natural wonder, translated its form into an exquisite headdress. The drama highlights the strict sumptuary laws of the era through a plotline where Emperor Renzong of Song punishes an official for presenting the crown, underscoring how such items were governed by status and regulation. The crown was not merely decorative;…

The last two years in the drama market have felt like a desert: too many misses, too few real hits. When it comes to the industry's definition of who can "carry a drama" (扛剧, means recognition from producers and platforms, not just fan hype), producers and platforms are becoming much more cautious. Compared to the so-called "traffic stars" whose pulling power is always in a Schrödinger's cat state—sometimes effective, sometimes an illusion—the top actresses who have built their status step by step through solid works are generally seen as the real deal when it comes to carrying a show. But in just one year, even this assumption has been shaken hard by the turbulence of the market. This rundown isn't about crowning or dismissing anyone—it's about looking closely at how these actresses are holding up in the storm: what they still have in hand, and what is slipping through their fingers. Yang Zi and Zhao Liying: Invincible Status? If we're talking about who still has an "unbroken golden body" (metaphor for a stable, almost invincible status), from the '85 generation to the post-2000s, it really feels like only Yang Zi (杨紫) and Zhao Liying (赵丽颖) remain. Zhao Liying's The Legend…

In the fast-paced world of entertainment, where image often overshadows substance, Wang Churan (王楚然) stands out not just for her looks but for her unshakeable self-assurance. Last night, a viral photo of her in a drenched pink Qipao sparked widespread discussion, but it wasn't the fabric that stole the show—it was her poise under pressure. This incident encapsulates her journey: a refusal to conform, a dedication to authenticity, and a reminder that true beauty stems from inner strength. As audiences marvel at her ability to turn potential fashion disasters into triumphs, Wang's story offers a refreshing lesson in resilience and individuality. She proves that in an industry obsessed with trends, staying true to oneself is the ultimate key to lasting success. The Wet Qipao Incident When images of Wang Churan in a skin-tight pink Qipao hit social media, many expected a fashion fail. The dress, designed to cling excessively, turned dark pink after water exposure, creating a scenario that could embarrass even seasoned influencers. Yet, Wang transformed it into a viral moment. She remained composed, smiling effortlessly for the cameras despite the soggy fabric. This wasn't about luck; it was a display of her innate confidence, making her appear radiant…

In Chinese historical dramas, the oil-paper umbrella transcends mere prop—it becomes a silent narrator of elegance. Eight leading actresses have woven this artifact into iconic moments, blending tradition with character depth. From misty riverbanks to snow-dusted courtyards, their interpretations span ethereal poise to defiant strength, proving the umbrella’s timeless power in visual storytelling. Yang Mi Fifteen years after her breakout role as Tang Xuejian (唐雪见) in Chinese Paladin (仙剑奇侠传), Yang Mi’s (杨幂) relationship with the oil-paper umbrella has evolved alongside her career. In The Dream of Red Mansions, her early portrayal radiated youthful mischief, the umbrella a playful extension of her character’s restless energy. By Brotherhood of Blades (绣春刀), maturity transformed her stance: as painter Bei Zhai (北斋), she cradled the umbrella like a scholar’s brush—deliberate, grounded, a quiet counterpoint to her earlier vibrance. Her 2025 collaboration with People’s Artists magazine marked a full-circle renaissance. Against ink-wash backdrops, the 39-year-old balanced the umbrella with regal ease, merging Ming Dynasty-inspired tailoring with contemporary minimalism. No longer just an accessory, it framed her as a custodian of heritage—sturdy yet fluid, much like her own artistic journey from ingenue to industry pillar. Zhao Liying Zhao Liying’s (赵丽颖) umbrella narratives trace her path from…

The resurgence of Republican-era aesthetics in contemporary Chinese cinema has become a visual feast, where costumes transcend mere clothing to embody character essence. Leading actresses of the post-85 generation are redefining historical narratives through meticulously crafted wardrobes, blending tradition with modern sensibilities. Wang Churan’s (王楚然) haunting elegance, Liu Yifei’s (刘亦菲) timeless grace—each ensemble stands as a silent narrator of turbulent times. This sartorial renaissance not only revitalizes period dramas but elevates them into cultural conversations, proving that fabric and silhouette can articulate emotions words often fail to capture. Visual Poetry in Motion Wang Churan’s transformation in Zhe Yi Miao Guo Huo (这一秒过火) epitomizes the power of Republican-era costuming. Her midnight-black gown and wide-brimmed hat create a chiaroscuro effect, sharpening delicate features into ethereal relief . Yet it’s her moon-white qipao that etches itself into memory: silk whispering against grey-brick backdrops, slit skirts revealing pearl-hued stockings, and jade bracelets clicking like metronomes to her movements. The ensemble merges restraint with sensuality—a collar clasped to the throat contrasting with the fluidity of draped sleeves. Liu Yifei’s legacy as Bai Xiu-zhu (白秀珠) in The Story of a Noble Family (金粉世家) remains unmatched, her teenage portrayal still shaping Republican archetypes. Decades later, her ability…

The landscape of Chinese variety shows has exploded from niche entertainment to a dazzling array of options, catering to every conceivable taste. Among this vibrant ecosystem, Keep Running stands as a titan, a thirteen-season veteran celebrated for its chaotic energy and star-studded lineup. Its current ensemble – Li Chen, Zheng Kai, Sha Yi, Zhou Shen, Bai Lu, Fan Chengcheng, Song Yuqi, and Zhang Zhenyuan – represents a potent mix of veteran charm and youthful exuberance, seemingly guaranteeing entertainment gold. Yet, the show’s latest episode, featuring a glamorous squadron of female guests including Wang Churan, Zhang Liangying, Zhang Meng, Zhang Ruonan, and Song Xuan, sparked unexpected controversy, exposing a tension between audience expectations and perceived celebrity privilege. The culprit? A sanitized mud pit that left viewers, and one guest, profoundly disappointed. A Cast Built to Run Keep Running thrives on the combustible chemistry of its core eight. Li Chen and Zheng Kai, the undisputed elder statesmen, provide continuity and a tangible link to the show’s history, anchoring loyal viewers with their familiar presence. Their experience is the bedrock upon which the chaos unfolds. Sha Yi, the show’s comedic linchpin, delivers laughs with effortless timing and self-deprecating charm. His ability to find…

Variety shows often serve as unexpected crucibles for celebrities, melting away preconceived notions and forging new public personas. The latest episode of China’s hit series Keep Running became precisely such a transformative stage. Amidst mud-pit chaos, makeup mishaps, and high-stakes name-tag battles, two young actresses—once criticized for on-screen roles and off-screen controversies—emerged not just as participants, but as revelations. Their authentic energy and unexpected prowess didn’t just entertain; it rewrote their stories in real-time. Strength Beyond Stereotypes Wang Churan (王楚然), previously typecast as the love-obsessed lead in Fireworks of My Heart (我的人间烟火), shattered expectations with raw physicality. Her 172cm frame housed surprising power, dominating tug-of-war challenges against seasoned male competitors like Li Chen (李晨) and Zhang Meng (张萌). Yet, her strength wasn’t merely muscular. During a makeup segment, she balanced competitive fire with empathy—gently ensuring Sha Yi (沙溢), her partner, felt comfortable skipping an intimidating rollercoaster ride. This duality—ferocity softened by consideration—resonated deeply. Viewers saw past the "eyelash-flipping" caricature, embracing a woman unafraid to sweat, strategize, or show vulnerability. Her fearless scream on the rollercoaster, eyes wide open, became an emblem of her genuine spirit. The makeup challenge, a Keep Running staple, further highlighted her grace under pressure. While others…

During the CCTV program 'Golden Snake Dance • Chinese New Year Flavor,' Wang Churan appeared in traditional Hanfu attire, but her hairstyle raised eyebrows among some netizens. They questioned whether the two strands of hair in front resembled the Japanese 'hime cut.' To clarify, this hairstyle, known as 'Chuixiao Ji,' can be traced back to ancient Chinese paintings like 'The Admonitions Scroll' and 'The Wise and Benevolent Women.' It was popular during the Han and Jin dynasties, with origins dating back to the Warring States period. The hairstyle features neatly trimmed bangs that reach the eyebrow line, with strands hanging down the sides, a style also referred to as 'Fenxiao.' Historical artifacts, such as the jade dancer figurine from the Jin Village Tomb in Luoyang, depict this hairstyle, showcasing its cultural significance. Wang's headpiece, a gold 'Buyao' (hair ornament) from Liangzhou, Gansu, is styled as 'One Sparrow, Four Flowers,' symbolizing nobility during the Han Dynasty. The Buyao was typically worn in pairs, swaying with movement, embodying the elegance of noblewomen from the Han to Wei - Jin periods. The Chuixiao hairstyle not only framed the face but also reflected the ethereal aesthetic influenced by Confucian and Daoist ideals. However, modern…