NEWHANFU

During my short trip home for the Lunar New Year, I found myself feeling an unexpected sense of jealousy—toward rice cake. My hometown lies in central Anhui, historically known as Qianchuan, now part of Hefei. Administrative divisions have shifted over time, but the taste of rice cake has remained unchanged. Since the Zhou Dynasty, glutinous rice products have played a crucial role in daily meals, festivals, and even religious offerings. As a result, rice cake has been known by various names, such as Gao, Er, Ci, and Ba (糕、饵、糍、粑). In my hometown, however, it is affectionately called Baba (粑粑), a soft-sounding name, as if calling out to a beloved child. At this moment, a basin of baba is lazily soaking in clear water, stretching out as if in relaxation. This is the traditional way of preserving rice cake in the Yangtze River Delta during winter—submerging it in water. A clay vat, a bucket, or an enamel basin can all serve as containers, requiring only occasional water changes to keep the rice cake fresh throughout the season. Since my bedroom faces north, making it cool enough, the washbasin of rice cake has, by default, become my new "roommate." "So… I'm supposed…...

China's rich cultural history has long been a source of inspiration for the performing arts, with historical figures brought to life on stage through dance, opera, and theater. In recent years, a renewed interest in the stories of legendary Chinese women has sparked the creation of innovative productions that blend traditional aesthetics with modern storytelling techniques. Two recent theatrical masterpieces—the dance drama Eighteen Songs of a Nomad Flute (Hu Jia Shi Ba Pai胡笳十八拍) and the newly adapted Yue opera (越剧) The Wind Rolls Up the Curtain (Lian Juan Xi Feng帘卷西风)—have captivated audiences across China. These productions not only showcase the artistic brilliance of Chinese performance arts but also offer deep insights into the resilience spirit of Chinese literary women. Hu Jia Shi Ba Pai: A Dance Drama of Loss and Longing Few figures in Chinese history evoke as much poetic sorrow as Cai Wenji (177–250 AD), a brilliant poet and musician who lived during the tumultuous late Eastern Han dynasty. Kidnapped by Xiongnu nomads and held in captivity for twelve years, she ultimately returned to China, leaving behind her two children. Her most famous literary work, Eighteen Songs of a Nomad Flute, is a heart-wrenching lament that expresses her grief,…...

As the crisp chill of winter fades, nature stirs, and the world prepares for renewal. In the traditional Chinese calendar, this transition is marked by Jingzhe (惊蛰), a solar term that signifies the awakening of hibernating creatures. The name itself, meaning "Awakening of Insects," encapsulates the essence of this period—one where nature’s dormancy gives way to movement, growth, and life. Jingzhe, the third of the twenty-four solar terms in the Chinese lunisolar calendar, typically falls in early March. This moment is not merely a marker of time; it is a powerful symbol of transformation. It embodies the ancient understanding of seasonal rhythms, influencing agriculture, folklore, and traditional beliefs that continue to resonate in contemporary Chinese society. The Science Behind the Tradition The arrival of Jingzhe is often associated with the first thunder of the year. In traditional Chinese thought, the booming sound is believed to shake the earth and awaken insects from their winter slumber. This perception is rooted in real meteorological changes: as temperatures rise, increased humidity and atmospheric instability lead to spring thunderstorms, a phenomenon widely observed across China. From an agricultural standpoint, Jingzhe plays a crucial role. For centuries, farmers have relied on the rhythm of the solar…...

In the bustling markets of 7th-century Chang'an, Tang Dynasty elites didn't queue for imported perfumes or gold-leaf serums. Instead, they sought beauty in an unlikely source: pigs. While pork rarely graced aristocratic tables, the animal's fats, organs, and even hooves became the cornerstone of China's first documented skincare revolution. Historical records, including physician Sun Simiao's (孙思邈) precious prescriptions, reveal over 50 pig-derived beauty treatments. Collagen-rich pig hooves were boiled with herbs like white mulberry bark to create anti-aging "lightening toners." Pig pancreas, packed with natural enzymes, formed the base of exfoliating scrubs. Rendering yards worked overtime to supply pharmacies with zhū zhī (pig fat)—the Vaseline of its day—used to seal moisture into wind-chapped skin. "This wasn't folk medicine but systematized dermatology," explains Dr. Li Wen, a historian of Chinese medicine. "Sun's formulas specify exact ratios, preparation methods, and even application schedules—like modern prescription skincare." The Tang beauty regimen was meticulous. Wealthy women began their mornings with zaodou (澡豆), a grainy cleanser made from pig pancreas, pea flour, and spices. Evening routines included slathering on mianzhi (面脂), a lard-based night cream infused with jasmine or lotus. For special occasions, aristocrats applied kouzhi (口脂), a pig-fat lip balm tinted with safflower. Even…...

For years, Mondays have been an unspoken "closed day" for museums across China. However, this long-standing tradition is now shifting. Recently, the Huai'an Museum in Jiangsu Province announced that it will be open every day of the week, eliminating the usual "closed day" policy. Similarly, several museums in Shaanxi Province have followed suit, introducing a new era where museums remain open seven days a week. This change is a response to increasing public demand and the evolving capabilities of museum management and preservation technologies. Traditionally, museums used their closed day for routine maintenance, exhibit adjustments, and artifact preservation. However, with technological advancements and improved management techniques, some institutions have realized that these essential tasks can be handled without requiring a full day of closure. By eliminating their weekly shutdown, museums are now offering greater convenience to visitors and demonstrating a deep commitment to public service. Meeting Public Demand In recent years, museum culture has experienced an unprecedented surge in popularity across China. No longer just a weekend or holiday pastime, visiting museums has become a mainstream activity, with enthusiasts even planning entire trips around specific institutions. Social media trends like "museum check-ins" and "cultural tourism" have propelled museums into the…...

For a province already celebrated for its UNESCO World Heritage Sites—from West Lake to Liangzhu Ancient City (良渚古城)—Zhejiang continues to rewrite the narrative of China's prehistoric past. The recent announcement of its 2024 Top 10 Archaeological Discoveries offers a thrilling glimpse into civilizations that thrived here up to 10,000 years ago. Among the highlights are the Neolithic Xiatang Village (下汤村), the enigmatic Huangchao Mound (皇朝墩), and two newly unearthed urban relics from Hangzhou. Let's dive into these time capsules reshaping our understanding of East Asia's early societies. Xiatang: A 10,000-Year-Old Time Capsule Nestled in the upper reaches of the Yong'an River Valley, the Xiatang Site (下汤遗址) in Taizhou's Xianju County (台州仙居县) has stunned archaeologists with its near-complete chronicle of Neolithic life. First discovered in 1984, this 30,000-square-meter settlement spans four distinct cultural phases: the Shangshan (10,000–8,500 BCE上山文化), Kuahuqiao (8,000–7,000 BCE跨湖桥文化), Hemudu (7,000–6,000 BCE 河姆渡文化), and Haochuan (4,500–4,000 BCE 好川文化) cultures. "Xiatang is like a fossilized imprint of China's earliest agricultural communities," explains Zhong Zhaobing, lead archaeologist at the site. Recent excavations revealed a sophisticated village layout: defensive trenches, raised earthen platforms, pottery kilns, food-processing areas, and even a ceremonial "plaza" paved with fired clay. Among the 400+ artifacts uncovered—stone tools,…...

On March 1, 2025, the historic Nanfeng Ancient Kiln in Foshan (佛山), Guangdong, roared back to life as part of the annual "Dragon Raises Its Head" festival. The event, deeply rooted in Lingnan folk traditions, saw the lighting of the legendary dragon kiln, marking the beginning of a vibrant cultural celebration that seamlessly blended heritage with contemporary creativity. Held in the Meitao Bay Cultural and Creative Industry Cluster, the festivities encapsulated the auspicious theme of "Great Prosperity"(大红大紫). The day unfolded with kiln-opening ceremonies, immersive historical reenactments, bustling marketplaces, and engaging folk performances, offering an all-encompassing journey from morning to night. By integrating art, craftsmanship, and local customs, the event reinforced Meitao Bay's role as a dynamic cultural hub, bridging the past with the future. Igniting the Dragon Kiln As the grand kiln-opening ceremony commenced, artisans and visitors gathered at Nanfeng Ancient Kiln Square to witness a spectacle that has endured for over five centuries. The kiln door slowly opened, releasing waves of heat and revealing the carefully crafted ceramic pieces within—each a product of time, fire, and meticulous skill. The unveiling of these kiln treasures symbolized good fortune, prosperity, and new beginnings for the year ahead. Renowned ceramic artists, including…...

In the recently aired historical drama Flourished Peony (国色芳华), eagle-eyed viewers noticed something peculiar about Dong Jie’s (董洁) character, Feng Xiaoyi (冯小姨): she wore a curious piece of fabric draped across her chest, resembling what modern audiences might jokingly call a “butt curtain.” This accessory, however, is far from a mere costume quirk—it’s a revival of the Wei Shang (围裳), a centuries-old fashion staple from the Tang Dynasty (618–907 CE). What Is a Wei Shang? The Wei Shang, often referred to as a “waist skirt” or yao qun (腰裙), is a versatile garment that wraps around the waist or hips. Historically, it served both decorative and functional purposes. According to The Dictionary of Ancient Chinese Clothing, the Wei Shang was a short skirt worn around the waist, while scholars like Ruan Li (阮立) from Shanghai University describe it as a wide band tied at the hips, often secured with decorative knots or beads. In simpler terms, the Wei Shang is a layered piece of fabric that adds depth and structure to an outfit. Its design can range from a single piece of cloth to multiple panels stitched together, often pleated or embroidered for added flair. From Waist to Chest: A…...

In the bustling streets of modern cities, striped skirts have become a staple of contemporary wardrobes. But what if we told you this trend was mastered—and arguably perfected—over 1,500 years ago in China? Recent archaeological discoveries and historical dramas like Kill My Sins (掌心) have reignited fascination with ancient Chinese striped skirts, revealing a sophisticated fashion legacy that continues to inspire today. The Striped Skirt Revolution: A 7th-Century Innovation Contrary to popular belief, striped skirts were not born on Parisian runways or New York streets. The earliest examples emerged during China’s Han Dynasty (206 BCE–220 CE) and evolved into a cultural phenomenon by the Tang Dynasty (618–907 CE). These were no ordinary garments: Engineering Elegance: Unlike modern printed fabrics, Tang-era striped skirts (poqun, 破裙) were painstakingly assembled from narrow, hand-dyed fabric strips—sometimes as many as 90 panels stitched together. Optical Illusions: Ancient tailors strategically used vertical stripes and color contrasts (like black-white or red-blue) to create slimming silhouettes, predating modern "bodycon" aesthetics by over a millennium. Functional Fashion: Excavated artifacts from tombs like Bi Jiatan Huahai (毕家滩花海墓) reveal skirts with pleats and adjustable waistbands, blending artistry with practicality. How Tang Women Wore Stripes The Tang Dynasty’s striped skirt craze reached…...

During the CCTV Spring Festival special Golden Snake Dance: The Flavor of Chinese New Year (金蛇起舞•中国年味), actress Wang Churan (王楚然) made a stunning appearance in traditional Hanfu attire. However, it wasn’t her flowing robes that caught the audience’s attention—it was her hairstyle. Two neatly trimmed strands of hair framing her face led some viewers to question: Was this a nod to Japanese hime cut (公主切), or a genuine representation of ancient Chinese fashion? The Truth Behind the Hairstyle The hairstyle in question, known as chuishao ji (垂髾髻), dates back to the Han (206 BCE–220 CE) and Jin (266–420 CE) dynasties. Historical artworks like Admonitions of the Instructress to the Court Ladies (女史箴图) and The Wise and Benevolent Women (列女仁智图) depict women with high buns adorned with strands of hair neatly trimmed at the temples. This style, often enhanced with hairpieces, was a hallmark of aristocratic fashion during the Eastern Han Dynasty. The chuishao ji wasn’t just a random choice—it was a deliberate aesthetic statement. The trimmed strands, known as fenshao (分髾), were meant to frame the face elegantly, creating a balance between structure and softness. Archaeological findings, such as jade carvings from the Warring States period (475–221 BCE) and murals…...