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禁止雷同！禁止雷同！禁止雷同！
A celebration for a time of promise
Spring Festival enjoys a growing global profile with recent UNESCO heritage recognition. Zhao Xu explores the cultural roots of this age-old tradition and how it has evolved over time.

“Amid the crackle of firecrackers, the old year takes flight.
The spring breeze brings warmth, and Tusu wine brings delight.
On countless households, the morning sun gleams.
As fresh peachwood charms take the old ones’ place.”
In 1069, Wang Anshi, the renowned poet and statesman of the Northern Song Dynasty (960-1127), composed this poem to celebrate the arrival of a new year. Its jovial tone reflected Wang’s own lighthearted spirit as he stood on the threshold of sweeping changes he initiated as vice-chancellor of the state.
The poem endures as a timeless expression of hope, memorized and recited by generations of Chinese during the New Year celebrations, including the coming one.
That hope is rooted in a seasonal promise. The traditional Chinese calendar aligns the New Year with the end of winter and the beginning of spring, hence the name “Spring Festival”.
At the core of the calendar, which integrates both moon-based (lunar) and sun-based (solar) cycles of timekeeping, is an effort to harmonize agricultural and social practices with the rhythm of nature. The New Year marks the beginning of the farming season, as hope stirs beneath the thawing earth.
The calendar had evolved over thousands of years, so did Chinese New Year traditions. While the New Year begins at the stroke of midnight, the festive celebrations typically extend for weeks, and in certain areas, over a month, commencing days before New Year’s Eve.
Everything Wang so vividly recounted — the customs his contemporaries embraced at this time of year — continues to thrive today. Here’s the reason: Although China is no longer the agrarian society it once was, the yearning for the return of warmth, the joy of being with loved ones, the bond to the past, and the promise of renewal all endure — each beautifully symbolized by Chinese New Year.
As Wang rightly noted, the old year would only depart at the ear-splitting sound of firecrackers — tiny thunderclaps that rattle street-level windows, send children cupping their ears in delight and leave a confetti of shredded red paper that once wrapped the fiery explosives.
Yet, few know that the firecrackers we recognize today only emerged during Wang’s time, as gunpowder — first invented by the Chinese around the 9th century — advanced significantly due to the frequent warfare between the Song Dynasty (960-1279) and its neighbors.
Before that, the sharp, explosive sound was made by igniting dried bamboo stalks, which is why the Chinese name for firecrackers is bao zhu, meaning “bamboo burst”. Alternatively, the resounding crack could be produced by snapping a whip, giving firecrackers the name bian pao, meaning “whip blast”.
While the firecrackers create a chaotic symphony full of energy, it is not to delight the ears, but to drive away a ferocious beast, according to legend.
This beast, named Nian — the same character for “year” — once struck terror in the villages, until a wise old man discovered that despite its apparent invincibility, Nian feared three things — loud noises, bright lights and the color red.
Thus, firecrackers explode at night, candles flicker until dawn, and lanterns sway from every rooftop. The color red appears everywhere, from scarlet couplets and paper-cut window decorations to red envelopes filled with money, gifted to the younger generation as a blessing of good fortune.
How did Nian come to be seen as a force of destruction? Cultural historians have long pondered this, suggesting it may be tied to winter’s unforgiving nature. Yet, with the arrival of the new year comes a gentle assurance — a chance to triumph over misfortune, the weight of the past, and the person we once were.
“All the passing years lay behind me, like distant mountain ranges … separating me from my childhood,” wrote venerated Chinese author Ba Jin (Li Yaotang, 1904-2005) in Ring in the New Year (Guo Nian), recalling how, as a boy, he once burned his cotton-padded shoes with firecrackers during an unforgettable New Year’s moment.
He confessed that even if he could return to that sweet childhood dream, he would not, for he had to confront the pain of his soul and his duty “to love his much-suffered countrymen and to fight for freedom and peace”.
Ba Jin wrote this in 1934, during the War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression (1931-45).
In those dark and uncertain times, Chinese New Year was no mere celebration. It stood as a testament to resolve, a solemn reminder that even traditions rooted in millennia could crumble if not fiercely protected, sometimes at the cost of life.
To preserve that heritage is the highest form of veneration for one’s forebears, a tradition deeply embedded in the customs of Chinese New Year celebrations.
Emotional bond
An indispensable part of Chinese New Year is the reunion feast on New Year’s Eve. In northern China, families often gather to make and eat dumplings. These dumplings, round and palm-sized, with minced fillings and ingot-like shapes, symbolize wealth. Sometimes, a hidden coin brings extra luck to the finder. The real charm lies in the making process. After a year’s separation, relatives sit around the table, kneading dough, chatting, and sharing stories of joys and sorrows. Laughter fills the air as dumplings take form, strengthening family bonds.
In southern China, rice cakes (nian gao) are staples, suggesting progress for the coming year, along with sweet tang yuan that represent family unity. Spring Rolls and fish, whose name implies surplus, are also popular. Notably, on New Year’s Eve, the fish’s head and tail are left, wishing for a good start and end.
As Lao She described in “The Spring Festival in Beijing”, preparations start on the eighth day of the 12th lunar month. Housecleaning, stocking food, and making new clothes begin. In the past, new, handmade clothes were a highlight, especially for children.
On the 23rd day of the 12th month, the Kitchen God goes to heaven. Families offer sticky sweets like malt sugar to keep him quiet. He’s welcomed back on New Year’s Eve with firecrackers. In some areas, Tusu wine is served. Younger members drink first, signifying growth, then elders, reflecting on time passing. It’s a ritual showing time’s cyclical nature of growth and loss.
Cherished memories
With time’s passage, family moments during Spring Festival turn into precious memories. Each generation has its own unique Spring Festival tales.
In the past, when materials were scarce, the festival was a longed-for feast. Kids anticipated it for weeks, mouths watering at the thought of a table full of dishes. The family-made meal, with kitchen clatter and food aromas, peaked the festive mood. It was more than food; it was the climax of a year’s hopes, stretching from noon to midnight.
After 1978’s reform and opening-up, the economy boomed, and migrant workers emerged. For them and their families, Spring Festival shifted from a break in farming to a cherished reunion. Parents brought city stories, bridging the rural-urban gap.
Before high-speed rails, pre-festival train trips were ordeals. Carriages were crammed, aisles filled with standing passengers. The sweaty air and weary groans filled the space. Everyone lugged big packages, as regional goods differed. Students also joined the journey, with parents waiting in the cold.
Nowadays, those tough times fade. Kids don’t crave festival candy like before, and some may even celebrate on faraway beaches. Yet, urbanization makes separations common, making reunions pricier. As Lao She might’ve said, Spring Festival, in the face of life’s hardships, offers solace, warming weary souls on cold nights.

Illuminating ritual
It has long been a cherished custom for most people to stay awake all night starting from Chinese New Year’s Eve, known as shou sui. This practice reveals a profound longing to protect what matters most, and the lit lamps are hoped to guide loved ones home. An 8th-century poet vividly portrayed the tranquility near the end of shou sui: “The candlelit lamp’s faint flame, obscured by the curtain, fades and dies; the incense on the brazier burns to ash and sighs.”
Centuries later, the great Su Shi of the Northern Song Dynasty, a contemporary of Wang Anshi, penned a poem titled “Shou Sui”. He wrote, “To sense the year’s end approaching; is like seeing a snake slipping into a ravine. Half its scaled body has already vanished away; who can stop its journey, or make it stay?” Su Shi’s influence across poetry, prose, and painting in Chinese culture is immeasurable. Interestingly, the upcoming Jan 29 ushers in the Year of the Snake, regarded as the “dragon minor” in Chinese culture, due to its resemblance to the dragon and shared qualities of grace, mystery, and power. In his poem, after a night of sitting, Su Shi “rose to peer at the slanting Northern Spoon”, referring to the Big Dipper. This recognizable star pattern in the Northern Hemisphere was used to mark time, and its tilt signaled the nearing dawn. Ancient Chinese likely gazed at the stars while awaiting the new year’s first light.
Indeed, the traditional Chinese calendar was rooted in astronomical and mathematical progress, intertwined with society’s cultural, agricultural, and political aspects. While China adopted the Gregorian calendar on Jan 1, 1912, the traditional one endures for cultural celebrations, giving us a taste of the nation’s rich heritage. Visiting temple fairs and making dumplings remain integral to family reunions, binding generations together during Spring Festival.
Spring Festival usually concludes on the 15th day of Chinese New Year, corresponding to Feb 12 in the solar calendar. This final day, marking the first full moon of the new year, is traditionally illuminated by delicately handcrafted lanterns — some bearing riddles — that adorn every corner.
Su Shi, whose poetic instinct was forever in tune with the moon, once wrote:
“Life brings both joy and sorrow, union and separation.
Like the moon’s phases, in constant fluctuation.
Imperfect it’s been since the dawn of creation.”
For many of us, the past year has been far from perfect, and the year ahead may hold its trials. Yet, it is the courage to face adversity and the strength to carry on with grace that transforms all the imperfect moments into perfect memories.
As for New Year’s Eve and every night and day, do what Su Shi recommends in his Shou Sui poem — “Make the most of your time.”