As soon as Luo Ming arrived, he was whisked away by the CCTV makeup artists.
As the most popular guest on today’s show, “Lin Shuwen” was to wear a palace skirt made of Shu brocade—the most magnificent outfit among all the guests.
After an hour of fussing back and forth, Luo Ming finally got changed with the help of three makeup artists. The most troublesome part was the crown on his head—he had no idea how many pieces of jewelry had been pinned onto him. But the end result was certainly impressive.
Luo Ming wore a brilliant crimson palace robe of Fei satin, its hem embroidered with tiny glass beads that softly brushed the floor. The red robe was adorned with large, lavish golden-red peonies, their delicate outlines picked out in fine silver thread—exuding an air of regal splendor and opulence.
On his head, besides the crown, he wore a full set of artificial ruby headdress ornaments.
Yet such luxurious attire somehow looked perfectly natural on “Lin Shuwen,” without the slightest hint of mismatch.
“Goodness! I almost feel like I’m really seeing a Tang dynasty princess,” one of the makeup artists said with a teasing grin.
“You flatter me.”
“I’m not flattering you at all. Come on, Shuwen, let’s get a photo together! Don’t smile—keep it cool and aloof, give us that princess vibe!”
Luo Ming nodded and played along, taking photos with all three makeup artists.
Around the same time, Li Yunshang, a history graduate student from Beijing University and the other female guest, also finished changing. She wore a shirt and skirt set made of fine silk gauze.
Notably, this outfit was something Li Yunshang had brought herself.
The so-called shirt-and-skirt ensemble was the standard attire for Tang dynasty women, characterized by a short, fitted top and a wide, flowing skirt.
The styles and colors of these outfits varied widely, allowing for personal preference and occasion.
In the Tang dynasty, this ensemble was one of the main everyday garments for women—from noble families down to merchant households, the women all owned such outfits, though the styles and materials differed.
And naturally, those differences in style and material served as symbols of social status and rank.
When the two women met, Li Yunshang’s eyes lit up: “Miss Lin, you look stunning! Standing next to you, my shirt and skirt set looks completely plain and ordinary.”
“Miss Li, you’re too kind—you look beautiful as well.”
After exchanging pleasantries, the two walked together to the front stage.
By then, Sa Ning and the four male guests had also changed into their outfits.
The attire of Tang Dynasty men featured the round-collared robe—a garment commonly seen in the Hanfu community—but distinguished itself from that of other dynasties through specific accompanying accessories, such as the *futou* (soft-capped headgear), a leather belt, and tall black leather boots.
Compared to women’s clothing, Tang dynasty men’s fashion was relatively uniform.
The five people on stage were all wearing the most common Tang male garments, differing only in color.
“Ooh! Wenwen, you’re something else! With that palace gown on, I’d think you were some actual princess who just walked in!” teased Sa Ning, who had hit it off with Luo Ming the day before.
“Sa Laoshi, you flatter me—I’m merely plain and ordinary,” Luo Ming said, dropping a classic Versailles-style humblebrag right in front of the founding father of Versailles literature himself.
“What a ‘plain and ordinary’! Should I say something like, ‘Peking University? It’s just alright’?”
Truly worthy of being the pioneer of Versailles literature—he caught on so quickly.
Luo Ming was about to respond when Zhou Hongbing, a professor from Peking University’s Chinese Department standing nearby, cleared his throat.
Sa Ning immediately straightened up—there were some things you just don’t say in front of your alma mater’s professor.
Beside Zhou Hongbing, Li Mingyuan, vice president of the China Poetry Association, chuckled softly. He rather enjoyed watching the younger generation banter.
“Everyone’s here—shall we start recording the show?” Director Zhu walked over and asked.
Everyone nodded almost simultaneously.
“Great! All units, get ready! Teacher Wu, Teacher Liang, you two stay on stage. Everyone else, head backstage,” Director Zhu instructed.
The two veteran actors nodded and remained on stage as directed.
Then the stage lights dimmed instantly, and the curtain separating them from the audience was drawn open.
“All units, attention—3, 2, 1! ACTION!”
“Do you not see the Yellow River’s waters coming from the sky, rushing to the sea and never returning?”
“Do you not see the bright mirror in the high hall grieving over white hair—morning silk-black, evening snow-white?”
The two veteran actors, with their solid command of stage dialogue, recited Li Bai’s “Invitation to Wine” as the opening.
As the poem was recited, the stage lights gradually brightened. When the recitation ended, the two veteran actors bowed to thank the audience, and then Sa Ning walked onto the stage.
“Over five thousand years of Chinese civilization, each dynasty has its own brilliant culture. In the last episode, we journeyed together through the era of clashing spears and galloping horses—the Three Kingdoms.
In this episode, we will come together to explore another peak of Chinese culture—the Great Tang.
Now, please welcome today’s guests! Let’s give a warm welcome to Professor Zhou Hongbing from Peking University’s Chinese Department!”
The audience applauded cooperatively.
Each guest who came on stage received applause from the audience.
Especially when Lin Shuwen stepped onto the stage, the applause thundered—after all, who doesn’t like a beautiful guest?
But since this was a variety show recording, to prevent leaks of the show’s content, all audience members had signed confidentiality agreements. No one had brought their phones in, so taking photos was naturally out of the question.
After the guests took their places, Sa Ning introduced each guest’s attire according to the script.
To be fair, the production team had put some thought into it. Using clothing as an entry point, they had the guests act as models—from everyday silk skirts that anyone could wear, to the palace gowns of the nobility, to the men’s outfits that looked largely similar at first glance.
This gave the audience a general overview of Tang dynasty cultural background.
“Men’s headwear in the Tang dynasty was mainly the Ze headscarf, a type of turban that replaced the ancient crown.
The Ze headscarf came in several types, including the flat-head scarf and the Wujia high scarf.
The host is wearing the flat-head scarf, also known as the flat-head small sample—the top of the headscarf sits very low, looking flat and broad, which was a very popular style at the time.
What I’m wearing, however, is the Wujia high scarf, which was created by Empress Wu Zetian. Those close to her would be granted this high headscarf, and officials referred to it as the Wujia high scarf.
In general, Tang dynasty men’s attire retained the characteristics of traditional Hanfu while also incorporating influences from foreign cultures, reflecting the open-minded spirit of the Tang era.”
Zhou Hongbing’s speech was followed by another round of applause from the audience.
After introducing the clothing, Sa Ning shifted gears: “Speaking of the Tang dynasty—besides these outfits that most people don’t know much about—food culture and Tang poetry should be things everyone is familiar with.
I’m sure everyone here has memorized Tang poems at some point. So today, let’s all come together and share. Let’s move on to our second segment: Poetry Showdown.
We have a professor from Peking University’s Chinese Department and the vice president of the China Poetry Association here with us. Between these two, who will come out on top in poetry?”
As Sa Ning finished his lines, the stage lights dimmed once more.
The first phase of the program’s recording was now complete.
“One take, everyone! Great work! Wenwen, with all that stuff on your head, are you feeling alright?” Director Zhu asked.
