On New Year's We Wear Red.
- Anna Duan
- Jan 27, 2017
- 3 min read
Come late January or early February each year, red paper lanterns illuminate the streets and auspicious couplets calligraphed on red sheets adorn all entrances. Fireworks punctuate the silence of the night, engulfing the city in a sheer film of smoke. Such traditions are, by now, such due course that their origins are largely forgotten.
Ask most people of the reason for these customs, and the following story will be recounted:
Legend has it, that in ancient China, back when Chinese New Year heralded the start of a planting season, there lived a creature: Nian. He dwelled in the depths of the sea and left only once each year, on the eve of the new year. Famished, he would storm nearby villages, demolishing and killing all in his path, with a particular fondness for young flesh…
The story goes that every year, villagers would flee to the mountains in hiding, to no avail. One year, a man visits the village and tells them that Nian fears red and loud sounds. Hence came the fireworks and red decorations.
When I, at age seven, first heard this story, the image of the merciless beast, with the body of a bull and head of a lion, remained in my mind for weeks. As my thoughts progressively became more rational though, the focal point in this story shifted from the monster to the clairvoyant who drove him away, and my perception of the tale grew from unwarranted terror to curiosity. I pondered, frustration increasing, as to how the man knew of the creature’s weakness. With heightened age and growing cynicism, I realized how cliché it all was: tormented villagers, some conspicuous sage, a man-eating monster with an obscure Archilles heel which allows him to be stopped. Disillusioned, I dropped the question.
This Chinese New Year brought me back to the story. As I walked through the streets on the new year’s eve, it occurred to me that any story should explanation, however mystical. There has got to be more to it. Traversing an online rabbit hole of Chinese mythology, I gathered pieces to this puzzle and slowly fit them together. I found that whereas the average recount of the story emphasizes the perfect solution for defeating Nian, the traditional version had an extra, crucial detail.
The man was an old Taoist deity by the name of Hongjun Laozu, who had appeared in the village as a beggar. After he was fed by a village woman, it was nearly nighttime on New Year’s Eve. Everybody retreated to the mountains as usual, yet he refused, and stayed behind, claiming he would could reason with the beast. Presumably feeling indebted to the village, he lured Nian into the woods while the villagers were away. Nian immediately tried to eat him, but, desperate, the old man stalled: “I’ll taste much better without clothes. These garments are filthy from wear.” Nian agreed, and beaming at his luck, allowed the man to unclothe. As he did so, revealing bright red underwear, an unearthly cry escaped from Nian at the sight of red. Pure terror overtook the beast, then he fled toward the sea. Before he could escape, the deity captured him to be his mount, fettering the creature in red, and awaited the villagers’ return. The next day, Hongjun Laozu rode into the village on the back of Nian, and declared Nian’s weakness to be the color red. And hence began the tradition of red decorations and firecrackers on New Years.
