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
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.
- Adapted From: Ma Boyong's novel The Longest Day in Chang'an.
Set entirely within the 24-hour framework of the Lantern Festival, The Longest Day in Chang'an transforms a single day into a heart-pounding odyssey of survival and strategy. The Tang Dynasty's capital, Chang'an, is at its zenith—a cosmopolitan hub of trade, culture, and political power. But beneath the glittering lanterns and bustling markets, Turkic infiltrators plot to burn the city to the ground using smuggled explosives.
Disgraced detective Zhang Xiaojing is dragged from prison by Li Bi, a 23-year-old chief advisor to the crown prince. Li, despite his elite status, recognizes Zhang's unmatched knowledge of Chang'an's criminal underworld. Their goal: stop the villian before midnight, when the emperor's grand lantern display will unwittingly detonate hidden fireballs.
The duo's investigation is a masterclass in tension. Zhang's streetwise brutality contrasts with Li's cerebral tactics. In one standout sequence, Zhang interrogates a gang leader by dangling him over a boiling cauldron, while Li decipheres encrypted messages using Tang-era mathematical codes. Meanwhile, the villainous leader isn't a one-dimensional bastard—his grievances stem from the Tang military's massacre of his tribe, adding moral ambiguity.
As the clock ticks, allies become liabilities. A key subplot involves Wang Yunxiu, a noblewoman initially presented as a hostage. Her arrogance nearly derails the mission, but she later redeems herself by exposing a traitor within the Jing'an Department (靖安司). The final act reveals that the attack is merely a distraction—the real target is the emperor himself, orchestrated by a disgruntled Tang general.
In the climactic showdown, Zhang and Li split forces: Zhang storms a tower to disarm explosives, while Li confronts the general in a palace duel of wits. The series avoids a tidy ending—Zhang, still a wanted man, disappears into the shadows, and Li resigns his post, disillusioned by the empire's rot.
The series spent over 70% of its budget rebuilding Chang'an with forensic accuracy:
The Jing'an department headquarters replicates Tang ministerial offices using 1:1 blueprints from historical records. Watch for the queen post roof (斗拱), a complex wooden bracket system unique to the era.
Li Bi's layered robes with the round neck mirror those worn by Tang officials, with rank-specific colors (e.g., deep purple for his third-tier position). Even extras wear hand-stitched hemp shoes.
Scenes teem with authentic details—Persian merchants haggling over silk, Korean envoys sampling Huoshao (火烧) pastries, and street performers reenacting exorcism dances.
The 48-episode series cleverly mirrors its real-time premise:
Each episode is named after a two-hour segment of the day (e.g., Chenshi 辰时, 7–9 AM), heightening urgency.
Early throwaway lines become critical. A beggar's complaint about "smelly wagons" in Episode 1 later identifies the villian's explosive transport method.
The terrorist plot intersects with Tang power struggles. For instance, the crown prince's rivals sabotage Li Bi's efforts, prioritizing factional wins over saving Chang'an.
Director Cao Dun uses long takes to amplify tension. A 6-minute single shot in Episode 12 follows Zhang through a refugee camp, seamlessly blending dialogue, fight choreography, and clues about the villian's next target.
Jackson Yee's Breakthrough
At 18, Yi faced skepticism about playing a 23-year-old prodigy. He silenced critics by embodying Li Bi's paradoxes:
Li's rigid posture (straight back, hands clasped behind) mirrors Tang scholars' discipline, but Yi adds subtle cracks—a tremor when executing a friend, averted eyes when lying to protect the prince.
Li speaks in measured, low-pitched tones, but Yi sharpens his diction during key confrontations. In Episode 19, his voice rises just enough to intimidate a corrupt official: "The clock ticks for you now, not Chang'an."
Yi and Lei Jiayin improvised key moments. In their first meeting, Lei ad-libbed Zhang grabbing Li's collar—Yi's reaction (a calm, icy stare) stayed in the final cut, defining their dynamic.
Critics noted Yi's resemblance to young Tang aristocrats in classical paintings—aloof yet burdened. As director Cao said: "He didn't act Li Bi; he inhabited his silences."
Song of Phoenix 思美人
Song of Phoenix 思美人
- Aired: 2017
- Period Background: Warring States period, focusing on the early life of Qu Yuan, a revered poet-patriot.
- Genres: Historical biography, youth drama, political drama
- Main Roles: Ma Ke as adult Qu Yuan; Jackson Yee as teenage Qu Yuan.
- Adapted From: Original screenplay inspired by Qu Yuan's life and Chu Ci (楚辞, Songs of Chu), a classical poetry anthology.
Song of Phoenix chronicles the formative years of Qu Yuan, one of China's most revered poets and patriots, whose life and death during the Warring States period (475–221 BCE) became synonymous with unwavering integrity. The series avoids hagiography, instead focusing on Qu's evolution from a nature-obsessed youth to a statesman whose ideals clash violently with corruption.
The drama opens in the lush landscapes of Chu, where teenage Qu Yuan spends his days wandering forests and rivers, composing verses inspired by orchids and cicadas. His father, a minor noble, worries about his son's "unmanly" sensitivity, but Qu finds solace in mentorship from Confucian scholar Wu Xian. In a pivotal scene, Wu Xian teaches him the Chu Ci technique of using nature metaphors to critique society.
At 17, Qu enters the Chu court as a junior official, armed with reformist ideas. He clashes with Lord Zi Lan, a power-hungry noble blocking land redistribution. Their rivalry peaks when Qu exposes Zi Lan's embezzlement of flood relief funds—a subplot mirroring real Warring States corruption. However, Qu's bluntness alienates King Huai, who values political expediency over ethics.
Banished to the countryside after opposing an alliance with Qin state, Qu's idealism hardens into resolve. He witnesses peasants starving due to unfair taxes, later channeling their plight into poems like Li Sao (Encountering Sorrow). The series juxtaposes his lyrical genius ("The orchid's fragrance fades, but virtue endures") with his growing militancy. In one haunting sequence, he burns his early, romantic poems, declaring, "Beauty without purpose is just noise."
The final act diverges from history for dramatic effect. Instead of Qu's historical suicide by river, the series shows him leading a doomed peasant revolt against Qin invaders. His death—arrow-pierced, clutching a scroll of Chu Ci—serves as a metaphor for Chu's impending fall.
Bridging Myth and Modernity
The series resurrects Qu Yuan's legacy beyond the Dragon Boat Festival, contextualizing his symbolism:
Qu's obsession with orchids isn't just poetic—it's political. The flower symbolized incorruptibility in Warring States culture. In Episode 9, he gifts an orchid to King Huai, warning, "A ruler who neglects its purity risks rot."
The drama visualizes Qu's literary innovations. When composing Jiu Ge (九歌, Nine Songs), shamanistic rituals (e.g., drummers summoning river gods) appear as dream sequences, blending myth with his creative process.
Each episode ends with text screens explaining real events, like how Qu's land reforms inspired later Confucian policies.
These choices sparked a 23% surge in searches for Chu Ci on Chinese platforms post-release, proving its educational impact.
Jackson Yee's Preparation
At 16, Yi faced scrutiny for playing an icon 2,300 years his senior. His immersive prep included:
Textual Deep Dive: He studied historian Sima Qian's Records of the Grand Historian and annotated Chu Ci editions to grasp Qu's voice. Director Zhang Xiaoxi noted Yi often debated scholars on Qu's motives, asking, "Was his stubbornness courage or folly?"
Physical Transformation: Yi learned Chu-era archery and calligraphy. For the poem-burning scene, he insisted on using replica Warring States bamboo slips, rehearsing until his hands blistered.
Emotional Restraint: Avoiding melodrama, Yi conveyed Qu's inner storms through subtlety. In Episode 14, after the king dismisses his reforms, Qu's face remains calm, but Yi's fingers slowly crumple a petition—a detail he improvised.
Critics praised his portrayal as "revelatory," particularly his chemistry with veteran actor Qiao Zhenyu, who played the pragmatic King Huai. Their debates (e.g., "Is a poet fit to rule?") crackle with ideological tension.
Nature as a Narrative Device
The series uses Chu's landscapes as both setting and metaphor:
Director Zhang employed static wide shots to mirror classical ink paintings. In Qu's exile scenes, mist-cloaked mountains dwarf his figure, emphasizing his isolation.
Qu's youth unfolds in vibrant spring (blooming orchids, flowing rivers), while his exile is autumnal (barren trees, muted tones). The final battle occurs in winter, with falling snow obscuring bloodshed.
Music Integration: Traditional instruments like the guqin and xun underscore key moments. When Qu writes Li Sao, the xun's mournful notes mirror his despair.
A standout sequence in Episode 6 merges all three elements: Qu composes Jiu Ge beside a waterfall, with the camera panning to reveal shamans dancing mid-air—a hallucination blending his poetry, spirituality, and unraveling mental state.
Song of Phoenix isn't a flawless drama—its pacing lags in court intrigue episodes—but it excels as a character study. To appreciate its layers:
Read Parallel Translations: Screen Chu Ci excerpts alongside episodes to catch textual references.
Focus on Yi's Micro-Gestures: His performance thrives in quiet moments, like the way he touches orchid petals (gentle in youth, frantic in exile).
Research Post-Watching: Explore how Qu's reforms influenced Han Dynasty Confucianism.
Jackson Yee's portrayal reminds us that historical icons weren't marble statues—they were flesh-and-blood idealists who loved, raged, and doubted. As Yi himself reflected: "Playing Qu Yuan taught me that principles are heavy. Carrying them can break your back… or make you fly."
Hot Blooded Youth 热血同行
Hot Blooded Youth 热血同行
- Aired: 2020
- Period Background: Late Qing Dynasty, a turbulent era of Western imperialism and domestic rebellion.
- Genres: Youth, historical action, patriotic drama
- Main Roles: Huang Zitao as Chong Liming, a reformist nobleman; Jackson Yee as A Yi, a vengeance-driven commoner.
- Adapted From: Manhua Yanshi Fan.
Set against the backdrop of late Qing Dynasty (1908–1912), Hot Blooded Youth reimagines the fictional secret royal guard "Yanshi Fan" as a microcosm of China's turbulent transition from imperial rule to modernity. The series centers on two protagonists: Chong Liming, a flamboyant, Western-educated Manchu nobleman, and A Yi, a revenge-driven peasant orphan. Their unlikely alliance to reform the Yanshi Fan—a once-elite imperial faction now corrupted by political decay—mirrors the nation's struggle to reconcile tradition with revolutionary change.
Chong, a privileged Bannerman (八旗子弟), returns from Europe with progressive ideals but remains shackled by loyalty to the Qing court. His flamboyant attire (Western suits paired with jade rings) and disdain for Qing conservatism mask a genuine desire to modernize the empire. In contrast, A Yi's life is defined by trauma: his village was massacred by bandits colluding with corrupt officials, leaving him consumed by vengeance. Their paths cross when Chong recruits A Yi into the Yanshi Fan, recognizing his combat skills and unyielding resolve.
As the Yanshi Fan confronts internal corruption and external threats (e.g., foreign imperialists and revolutionary factions), ideological rifts emerge. Chong advocates for gradual reform within the imperial system, inspired by Japan's Meiji Restoration, while A Yi gravitates toward the anti-Qing revolutionary ideas of Zhou Jue, a fictionalized Tongmenghui (Alliance Society Party) member. A pivotal moment occurs during the Sichuan Railway Protests (保路运动), a historical event where local resistance to foreign-controlled railways ignited widespread rebellion. Here, A Yi witnesses firsthand the Qing government's brutality against civilians, catalyzing his shift from personal vendetta to national salvation.
The final arcs juxtapose Chong's reluctant acceptance of the Qing's inevitable collapse with A Yi's full embrace of revolution. In a climactic battle, A Yi leads a charge against Qing forces using a mix of traditional swords and early firearms—a visual metaphor for China's hybrid path to modernity. Chong, meanwhile, brokers a peace agreement to minimize bloodshed during the dynasty's fall, symbolizing the pragmatic coexistence of old and new ideologies.
Class Conflict as Narrative Engine
The series thrives on the stark contrast between its leads:
His arc embodies the aristocratic dilemma—progressive yet bound by privilege. Huang Zitao's performance leans into Chong's theatricality (e.g., twirling a revolver while debating Confucianism), reflecting his internal conflict between Western liberalism and feudal duty.
Jackson Yee portrays A Yi's transformation with restrained intensity. Early scenes show him clenching a family heirloom dagger (a symbol of vengeance), while later moments—like his silent tears after sparing a Qing soldier—reveal his growing empathy.
Their dynamic peaks in Episode 32: Chong, defending the Qing's legitimacy, argues, "Reform takes time!" A Yi retorts, "Time is a luxury for the rich. My people die waiting". This exchange crystallizes the era's class-driven tensions.
Youth as Catalysts for Change
The series refrains from simplistic nationalism, instead exploring sacrifice through personal stakes:
The Yanshi Fan's missions mirror real events like the Wuchang Uprising. In one subplot, the group protects a reformist school modeled after late Qing intellectual societies, emphasizing education's role in national revival.
A standout scene features the Yanshi Fan standing in a human chain to block advancing Qing cavalry, their unity transcending class divides.
Themes of intergenerational responsibility resonate strongly. As Chong's mentor warns, "A nation's rebirth requires its youth to bleed first".
Action Choreography
Fight sequences blend traditional wuxia aesthetics with early modern warfare:
A Yi's mastery of the sword contrasts with Chong's use of a Colt M1892 revolver. Their duel in Episode 18 merges swordplay with gunpowder explosions, symbolizing the clash of old and new.
Stunt coordinators studied late Qing Dynasty martial arts manuals to recreate styles like Baguazhang (eight diagrams palm), while incorporating Western boxing techniques for Chong's character.
A particularly innovative sequence involves a rooftop chase through Shanghai's International Settlement, where the Yanshi Fan navigates neon-lit billboards and opium dens, visually juxtaposing tradition and modernity.
Despite its 7.6/10 Douban rating, Hot Blooded Youth faced mixed reception. Critics praised its ambitious scope but noted uneven pacing and anachronistic costumes (e.g., Huang's modern hairstyle). However, the series stands out for its nuanced portrayal of historical transitions, avoiding caricatures of "good revolutionaries vs. evil imperialists."
Viewing Tips:
Contextualize Key Events: Research the 1911 Revolution and May Fourth Movement to fully grasp the characters' ideological stakes.
Focus on Visual Symbolism: Note recurring motifs like broken jade pendants (representing fractured loyalties) and steam locomotives (embodying unstoppable change).
Ultimately, Hot Blooded Youth is a meditation on how individuals navigate the tides of history, making it essential viewing for those interested in China's complex path to modernity.
Jackson Yee's costume dramas work because they prioritize stakes over spectacle. In The Longest Day in Chang'an, the tension isn't just about saving Chang'an—it's about flawed allies trusting each other against a ticking clock. Similarly, Hot Blooded Youth isn't merely a patriotic tale; it's a messy, visceral exploration of how individuals rebuild themselves during national collapse. Yi thrives in these gray zones, whether playing a scheming politician or an idealistic poet.
His choices also reflect a shift in Chinese historical storytelling. Gone are the endless palace scheming tropes; instead, series like Song of Phoenix use Qu Yuan's bond with nature to explore environmental themes, while Yanshi Fan reimagines late Qing rebels as pragmatic antiheroes. Yi's performances—restrained yet magnetic—keep these narratives grounded. You don't just watch his characters; you dissect their decisions.
For newcomers, start with The Longest Day in Chang'an. Its 12-hour timeline and street-level view of Tang Dynasty politics offer a gripping entry point. Then dive into Hot Blooded Youth for a raw look at China's revolutionary youth. What unites these series isn't their budgets or costumes, but Yi's ability to make history urgent. As he once said in an interview: "The past isn't dead—it's where we keep forgetting to look for answers." His roles ensure we won't forget again.
