We’ve covered a lot of hardcore science popularization lately. Let’s talk about something more relaxing now. Why do the zombies in Chinese horror movies always wear Qing Dynasty clothing? And why do they all stretch their arms out like they’re doing some weird zombie pose?

Could it have something to do with that old saying in China: “No monsters allowed after the founding of the PRC”?

There may not be an academic paper dedicated to this mystery, but we can give you a solid answer—from a professional angle.

Ⅰ. The Origins of the Chinese Zombie

Let’s start with where the idea of the Chinese zombie came from. The concept actually dates back quite a long time. Back then, they weren’t called zombie—they were known as Hanba (旱魃), a kind of ancient drought demon.

The earliest mention of the Hanba appears in the Classic of Mountains and Seas, a mythical Chinese text. Here’s the gist of the story:

When the warlord Chiyou (蚩尤) waged war against the Yellow Emperor, the Yellow Emperor summoned Yinglong (应龙), a divine dragon, to fight on his behalf. Chiyou, in turn, called upon the wind and rain gods to unleash a massive storm. To counter this, the Yellow Emperor sent down a heavenly maiden named Ba (魃), who had the power to stop the rain. She succeeded—and Chiyou was defeated.

But afterward, The Yellow Emperor turned against her, accusing her of bringing too much death and destruction. He forbade her return to the heavens.

Heartbroken and full of resentment, Ba became a vengeful spirit after death—what many consider to be the first jiangshi, or Chinese zombie. From then on, wherever she wandered, drought followed.

A quick mythological side note:

Chiyou was the legendary leader of the ancient Jiuli tribe. Said to have a bull’s face and wings on his back, he fought in the epic Battle of Zhuolu against both the Yellow Emperor and the Flame Emperor. Though he lost and was killed, he’s remembered as a symbol of strength and warfare—later even worshipped as a god of war.

The Yellow Emperor, meanwhile, is considered the cultural ancestor of the Chinese people. He’s credited with inventing things like writing, music, boats, and silk-making. After defeating Chiyou, he laid the foundation for early Chinese civilization. Over time, he became a central figure in both myth and history, revered as a common ancestor of the Han Chinese.

Ⅱ. Zombies in Chinese Folklore

At this point in history, the word jiangshi (literally “stiff corpse”) didn’t yet refer to supernatural monsters—it simply described a dead body that had become rigid after death. There was nothing particularly scary about it.

However, by the Ming and Qing dynasties, strange stories began to emerge. Some told of people conducting rituals to “drive away the hanba” (旱魃) as a cover—while secretly using the ceremony as an excuse to loot tombs. In fact, many early tales of reanimated corpses and zombie-like creatures stem from grave robbery legends.

But the real cultural boom of the Chinese zombie came during the late Ming and early Qing periods. As the Qing dynasty took hold, resentment simmered among many Han Chinese. Some even used zombie stories to symbolically criticize the Manchu regime that had taken over China.

Writers of the time began blending tales of jiangshi with mysterious folk practices—like the famous “corpse walkers of Xiangxi,” who were said to escort the dead home by making them “hop” back to their ancestral villages. These elements were woven into strange, supernatural short stories.

Two famous writers, Yuan Mei (in What the Master Would Not Discuss) and Ji Xiaolan (in Notes of the Thatched Abode of Close Observations), compiled many of these tales. On the surface, they were spooky stories, but underneath, they were biting satires—using vampires and walking corpses as metaphors for the lifeless, blood-sucking bureaucracy of the Qing government.

In Hong Kong, where most Chinese zombie films were made, filmmakers often adapted supernatural tales from Qing dynasty literature. That’s why the classic jiangshi we see on screen almost always wears a Qing official’s robe—complete with a formal court hat and embroidered chest badge (buzi) indicating rank. These weren’t just costumes—they symbolized power and social status in imperial China.

Ⅲ. Zombies in Literary and Artistic Works

But why do zombies always wear official robes? Well, one popular theory is pretty simple: only the wealthy and powerful could afford such elaborate burial outfits. Poor folks could barely afford a coffin, let alone silk robes.

One of the earliest Hong Kong films to feature a Qing-dressed zombie was Midnight Zombie (1936), directed by Yeung Kung-Leung. Back then, Qing dynasty costumes were cheap and easy to find—leftovers from opera and historical dramas—so they were perfect for low-budget horror productions. Plus, the dark, somber colors and stiff design of Qing official robes gave the zombie a cold, lifeless, and slightly eerie look that fit the role perfectly.

Take the 1940 film Lee Ah Mau and the Zombie (《李阿毛与僵尸》)—even the promotional poster oozes that undead in Qing dynasty dress vibe. From then on, the look stuck, becoming the iconic image of the Chinese hopping zombie we know today.

So, despite China’s long and rich history of mythological creatures, the jiangshi is actually a relatively new addition—just a couple of hundred years old, and it’s more like a breakout star of the late imperial era.

In the Qing dynasty, scholar Ji Xiaolan categorized zombies in his Notes from the Notes of the Thatched Abode of Close Observations into two main types:

1. Fresh corpses that hadn’t been dead long and suddenly reanimated—often due to mysterious changes in the body, known as “corpse transformation”
2. Ancient corpses that had been buried for years without decomposing, gradually turning into monsters.

Most Qing-era zombie tales focused on the first type—newly dead bodies that unexpectedly sprang back to life.

And the causes of shibian? Absolutely wild. According to folk beliefs, a corpse might suddenly leap up if music was played nearby. Or if a cat or dog jumped over the body, it might reanimate. Grave robbers were also often blamed.

Scholar Yuan Mei offered a more philosophical explanation: After death, a person’s positive yang energy fades, leaving only yin. But yin and yang naturally attract—so if any yang energy (like a living being) disturbs the balance, it could trigger a reaction, bringing the corpse to life and causing it to chase the living.

Aside from the obvious decay, one distinctive feature of Chinese zombies is their hair. As the corpse stiffens over time, its body hair changes color in stages—starting with white, then shifting to red (or purple), green, and finally black. What a colorful zombie!

In What the Master Would Not Discuss, Yuan Mei even described an eight-level zombie evolution chart. It starts with “purple zombies” (bodies just beginning to turn), then “hairy zombies” (which grow black hair after feeding on blood), and even ends with “flying corpses” that take hundreds of years to cultivate enough energy to float through the air and scare the living.

Therefore, TV series like My Date with a Vampire depict zombies in a way that might seem overly romanticized and far from reality.

Summary

But don’t worry—jiangshi aren’t exactly unstoppable. According to folklore, they can’t climb, can’t cross water, and are scared of bright lights, sunlight, fire, roosters crowing, and magical talismans. So if you keep the lights on, hang up a few protective charms, or even play a rooster sound on your phone, you’ll be just fine!

That said, in Chinese ghost stories, the goal was never just to scare people. Ghosts—and zombies—were often used as symbols or moral lessons. Tales of catching spirits or encountering the undead usually reflected real-world injustices. Through these strange and eerie stories, people were reminded to reflect on right and wrong, remember the past, and uphold justice. These stories became part of the cultural fabric, passed down for generations.

As for the iconic Qing dynasty outfits—some joke that if zombies wore flowing Hanfu instead, they’d look more like elegant immortals than terrifying monsters. A little too graceful to be scary!

So, what do you think? Do jiangshi really exist? Or are they just a quirky part of cultural history? Share your thoughts in the comments!