The Story of Li Qingzhao 如夢令

Li Qingzhao was born in 1084 in Qi Prefecture, Jingdong East Circuit (today's Zhangqiu, Shandong province). She was born to a family of scholar-officials. Her father, Li Gefei, was an academic professor, a famous essayist, and a member of a poetry and literary circle led by Su Shi. Her mother was a renowned poet descended from prime minister Wang Kung-ch'en. The family had a large collection of books, and Li was able to receive comprehensive education in her childhood. Her poems showed her girlish innocence, sharp mind, and love of nature, such as "Happy Memories: Dreamland". Since she was a teen, she studied hard and had an in-depth understanding of literature. As a teenager, she started to develop a career as a poet by writing two poems in shi form to rhyme with a poem by a friend.

Li's poetry was already well known within elite circles by 1101, when, aged eighteen, she married Zhao Mingcheng. They had numerous similarities and both loved poetry, literature, sculpture in bronze and stone, painting, and calligraphy. After her husband started his official career, he was often absent from home. They were not particularly wealthy but enjoyed collecting inscriptions and calligraphy. Since Li spent a quite happy time with her husband, her poetic style became calmer and more elegant. Li and her husband collected many books. They often wrote poems for each other as well as about bronze artifacts of the Shang and Zhou dynasties. Her early poetry portrays her carefree days as a woman of high society, and is marked by its elegance.

Unfortunately, their marital bliss was only temporary because of the Jin-Song wars between the Song dynasty and the Jurchens. The Northern Song capital of Kaifeng fell in 1127. Fighting took place in Shandong and their house was burned. Citizens of Zhao country, including Li and Zhao, endured countless sufferings and fled south of the Yangtze River. The couple took many of their possessions when they fled to Nanjing, where they lived for a year. Zhao died of typhoid fever in 1129 on the route to an official post, and Li never recovered. She wandered aimlessly after her husband's death. It was then up to her to keep safe what was left of their collection. Li described her married life and the turmoil of her flight in an afterword to her husband's posthumously published work, Catalogue of Inscriptions on Metal and Stone.

Li subsequently settled in Hangzhou, where the Song government made its new capital after the war against the Jurchens. During this period, she continued writing poetry but her later work was full of nostalgic memories of her husband and her hometown. She also kept working on completing the Catalogue of Inscriptions on Metal and Stone. The book was mainly about the calligraphy on bronze and stones; it also mentions the documents Li and Zhao collected and viewed. According to some contemporary accounts, she was briefly married to a man named Zhang Ruzhou  who treated her badly, and she divorced him within months. She survived the criticism of this marriage. It is widely believed that she died around the age of 71, but no records of this remain. Scholars note that this change in tone was closely related to the historical turmoil of the Song–Jin wars and Li Qingzhao's repeated displacement in her later years. The loss of her husband and their shared collections further deepened the sense of sorrow and nostalgia in her ci poetry.

Unfortunately, many of her poems disappeared in the following turbulent years, which Wang characterizes as "an irreparable loss to Chinese literature".Only around a hundred of her poems are known to survive, mostly in the ci form and tracing her varying fortunes in life. A few poems in the shi form, which follows stricter formal rules, also survived, as did the afterword to Catalogue of Inscriptions on Metal and Stone and a study of ci poetry.

One of Li's famous ci poems is "A Dream Song" (如夢令), written when she was living in Jinan and recalling the events of her hometown before her marriage. Therefore, she wrote it between the ages of 16 and 17 (the second year of Yuan Fu of Song Zhezong, 1099). This is also known as her first poem...

《如梦令·常记溪亭日暮》

常记溪亭日暮，沉醉不知归路。兴尽晚回舟，误入藕花深处。争渡，争渡，惊起一滩鸥鹭

It was a day at Brookside pavilion

That I often fondly remember,

When, flushed with wine

We could hardly tear ourselves away

From the beautiful view of sunset.

Returning late by boat

When we'd enjoyed our fill,

We got lost and strayed

To where the clustered lotuses

Were at their thickest.

Pushing and thrashing,

Pushing and thrashing as best we could,

We scared into flight

A shoreful of dozing egrets and gulls.

Bathed in soft window light and framed by the quiet elegance of a traditional interior, this hanfu portrait draws inspiration from the life and poetry of Li Qingzhao, one of the most celebrated female poets of China’s Song Dynasty. Known for her delicate yet profoundly emotional verses, Li Qingzhao’s writings captured the fleeting beauty of youth, the ache of separation, and the quiet resilience of a woman living through times of great change.

In this image, the subject stands beside a carved lattice window, gazing outward as though searching for a distant memory. The muted palette of jade green and ivory echoes the refined aesthetics of the Song era, while the intricate pearl shoulder adornment evokes the grace and sophistication associated with the scholar-poet’s world. Light spills gently across her face, creating an atmosphere of contemplation and longing—a visual reflection of the emotional depth found throughout Li Qingzhao’s poetry.

The composition invites viewers into a moment of stillness. Is she awaiting a loved one’s return? Reflecting upon happier days now gone? Or perhaps composing verses in her heart as petals drift beyond the window? Such ambiguity lies at the heart of Li Qingzhao’s work, where personal emotions become timeless and universal.

This portrait seeks not to recreate a historical figure literally, but rather to capture the spirit of her poetry: elegant, introspective, and quietly melancholic. Through the language of photography, costume, and light, the image becomes a tribute to the enduring legacy of a woman whose words continue to resonate across centuries.

Like a stanza from one of Li Qingzhao’s ci poems, the scene lingers between memory and dream—a fleeting glimpse of beauty, solitude, and the enduring power of longing.

“The fragrance fades, the jade mat grows cool;As I quietly loosen my silk robe,I climb alone into my orchid boat.”

In that timeless moment between looking and remembering, the spirit of Li Qingzhao lives on.