Treasures from Peking Opera of the late Qing Dynasty 晚清時代的京劇珍品

They were never meant to be opened all at once.

In the waning years of the late Qing dynasty, when the world beyond the Forbidden City trembled with change, there existed a quieter, more delicate ritual—one practiced not by emperors or generals, but by artists.

In the back halls of a Peking Opera troupe in Beijing, four performers—each famed for portraying women of legend—kept their most sacred possessions hidden inside antique silk embroidered envelopes. These were no ordinary keepsakes. Each envelope was stitched with symbols of identity: peonies for beauty, phoenixes for rebirth, cranes for longevity, and hidden among the threads, secrets that could never be spoken aloud on stage.

The First Envelope – The Peony (Red)

Mei Lian was known for her portrayal of tragic heroines. Draped in rose silk and sorrow, she could make an audience weep with a single glance.

Inside her crimson envelope lay a lock of hair—not her own, but that of a woman she had loved before she joined the opera. In a world where identities were performed and masked, this was the only truth she possessed.

Every night, before stepping onto the stage, she would touch the envelope and whisper:

“Let me feel real, if only for a moment.”

The Second Envelope – The Chrysanthemum (Gold)

Jin Yu played noblewomen—empresses, consorts, figures of grace and restraint. Her golden envelope shimmered like imperial silk, heavy with embroidered chrysanthemums.

But inside was a letter of rejection.

She had once auditioned to play a male warrior role—unheard of, forbidden. The troupe master had written only one line:

“Know your place.”

She kept it not as shame, but as defiance. On stage, her empresses carried an edge—subtle, dangerous—as if each movement concealed a rebellion.

The Third Envelope – The Phoenix (Blue)

Lan Feng, the youngest, was celebrated for her vibrant, fiery roles. Her blue silk envelope danced with embroidered phoenixes, wings unfurled in eternal ascent.

Inside was a stage contract… unsigned.

She had been offered a place in a traveling troupe bound for Shanghai, where modernity was beginning to erode tradition. She hesitated. To leave was to abandon everything she knew; to stay was to remain caged in ritual.

Each night, she folded the contract back into the envelope, undecided.

The Fourth Envelope – The Crane (Pale Jade)

The eldest, Yun He, had long retired from leading roles. Her jade envelope bore cranes among clouds—symbols of transcendence.

Inside was a mirror shard.

Not for vanity, but remembrance.

Years ago, she had shattered her dressing mirror after forgetting a line mid-performance—an unforgivable sin. She kept the shard to remind herself: perfection is fragile, and identity even more so.

The Unspoken Ritual

Before each performance, the four would gather in silence. No words passed between them. Instead, they placed their envelopes side by side.

For a moment, the room held no roles, no painted faces—only four souls bound by silk, thread, and secrets.

Then the drums would begin.

The transformation would take hold.

And the audience would see only illusion.

The Final Night

On the eve of revolution, when whispers of a new China crept into every alley, the troupe was forced to disband.

The theatre fell silent.

One by one, the performers departed.

But the envelopes were left behind—arranged carefully, as always.

No one dared open them.

Years Later

A collector found them, preserved against time. The silk still shimmered. The embroidery still told stories.

But the true stories—the ones hidden inside—remained untouched.

Because some performances never end.

And some identities, once folded into silk, are meant to remain forever between the threads.

This series is a spinoff from  my dream (and multi-award winning) photo project for 2026 - 晚清時代的京劇 Peking Opera of the late Qing period…

The concept is to recreate the exact scenes from the late 1800s based on actual historical paintings and those colored rice paper drawings sold to wealthy European tourists…

Everything is original, including the backdrop which is painted…

Took me months to plan this…

Took Master Tang years to collect and repair the antique costumes…, and spending huge amounts of money buying useable antique clothings and accessories for this purpose.

The costumes are then reassembled using old drawings and paintings from the same era.

Not an easy feat because fabric degenerates over time and many artefacts were lost during the wars and the cultural revolution. Sourcing for exactly the same marching historical pieces to recreate the same look is a very tedious and expansive task.

And then we need a makeup artiste who can recreate the Qing Dynasty style of face painting…

The models are real Chinese actresses and the photos were done in a studio in Beijing.

The Opera scenes/ characters:

1. Jellyfish Goddess

2. Golden Lotus Pan

3. Peony Pavillon (Spring Fragrance)

4. Peony Pavillon Du LiNiang

The envelopes are what I imagined and drawn onto the photos using AI…