The Origin of Jiangshi: From Taoist Alchemy and Chinese Folklore to Hong Kong Cinema and Modern Asian Horror

In the 1980s, Korean children watched cartoons during the day and, hearts pounding, secretly tuned into Hong Kong film channels late at night under their blankets. Many will remember the moment they first saw that strange creature — flapping its robes, arms stretched straight out, bounding forward in hops, a yellow talisman pasted to its forehead, dressed in the formal court robes of the Qing Dynasty. That creature was the jiangshi (殭屍, jiāngshī).

The jiangshi is an undead entity born from Chinese folk belief. It is unlike the blood-drinking vampires of the West, and unlike the flesh-eating zombie. The jiangshi is a distinctive monster that sustains itself by absorbing shengqi (生氣) — the vital energy of the living — and is the product of centuries of Taoist belief, Confucian funerary culture, and a uniquely Chinese conception of the afterlife. Where did this strange being come from, and how did it infiltrate popular culture around the world?

What Is the Jiangshi: Etymology and Basic Concepts

The Meaning of the Name “Jiangshi”

The character “jiang (殭)” in jiangshi (殭屍) means “to stiffen” or “to become rigid.” ^[1] In other words, jiangshi refers to a corpse whose body has become rigid with rigor mortis. Unable to move flexibly like a living person, this entity moves with its entire body locked stiff — and its name directly captures that characteristic.

In modern Chinese, jiangshi (僵尸 or 殭屍) is used as a general term for the undead, even extending to Western-style zombies, but the jiangshi of traditional folk belief is a far more specific and independent entity. Unable to walk normally due to bodily stiffness, it bounds forward with arms outstretched, absorbing the breath and qi of the living to drain their life force. ^[1]

Jiangshi in Chinese Traditional Thought

In Chinese traditional thought, a human being was understood as an entity composed of multiple spiritual components. In the folk religion that blended Taoism and Confucianism, it was believed that upon death, the hun (魂) and po (魄) — the two souls residing within a person — would separate. ^[2] The hun was meant to ascend to the heavens while the po was meant to return to the earth, but if this process did not unfold properly, the po would remain in the corpse and give rise to a jiangshi. ^[2]

The Qing Dynasty scholar Yuan Mei (袁枚, 1716–1798) recorded in his work Zi Bu Yu (子不語): “A person’s hun is good but their po is evil; the hun is wise but the po is not.” ^[3] In other words, the jiangshi is born when the virtuous hun departs the body and only the malevolent po remains to control the corpse.

The Two Roots of the Jiangshi

Root 1: The Taoist Concept of Shengqi (Vital Energy)

In Taoism, qi (氣) is the life energy that permeates all things in the universe. Every living thing carries yang qi (陽氣), and death is the state in which this yang qi has been exhausted. In traditional tales about jiangshi, the creature’s attempts to absorb the breath and qi of the living are interpreted as efforts to replenish its depleted yang qi. ^[2]

What is particularly notable is that the jiangshi is not a creature that drinks blood — it absorbs breath and qi. For this reason, one of the ways to hide from a jiangshi is said to be holding one’s breath. The primary means by which a jiangshi detects the living is precisely the flow of qi emanating from their breathing. ^[1]

Root 2: Abnormal Death and the Obsession with Burial in One’s Homeland

In traditional Chinese culture, being buried in one’s ancestral homeland was not merely an emotional matter — it was directly tied to the repose of the soul. ^[4] According to feng shui beliefs, the soul, the body, and the ancestral land are intimately connected, and it was believed that being buried outside one’s ancestral homeland would cause the soul to wander forever. ^[4]

Furthermore, those who died “abnormal deaths (橫死)” — killed in war, dying suddenly in an accident, by suicide, or at a young age — were believed to be at high risk of becoming jiangshi. ^[1] Failure to carry out proper funeral rites could cause the po to become trapped in the body and awaken as a jiangshi.

Gǎn Shī (趕屍): The Real Historical Practice of Walking Corpses

The Corpse-Carrying Tradition of Xiangxi

One of the most fascinating aspects of the jiangshi legend is that it drew inspiration from an actual historical practice. In the Xiangxi (湘西) region of western Hunan Province, China, there existed a tradition called gǎn shī (趕屍), meaning “to drive or herd corpses.” ^[4]

During the Qing Dynasty, many people from this region traveled far away to find work, and when they died far from home, their bodies had to be returned to their homeland. The challenge lay in the conditions of transport at the time. To convey the body over great distances, people commissioned Taoist priests (daoshi), who would paste a talisman (符籙, fúlù) — red characters written on yellow paper — to the forehead of the corpse, chant incantations, and then begin transporting it. ^[4]

Bamboo Poles and the Dance of Corpses

The actual transport process worked like this. Long bamboo poles were placed along either side of the corpse and firmly bound to it. Two workers would then position themselves at the front and back, carrying the poles on their shoulders as they walked — and due to the elasticity of the bamboo, the corpse would sway up and down, appearing to hop along as if running. ^[4] This eerie sight is the most plausible explanation for the visual archetype of the jiangshi legend.

The transport procession moved only at night, and the Taoist priest would ring a bell to warn passersby not to make eye contact. The belief was that it was inauspicious for a living person to lock eyes with a corpse. ^[4] This practice is handed down as one of the “Three Great Mysteries of Xiangxi (湘西三大鬼事).”

Jiangshi in Classical Chinese Literature

Zi Bu Yu and Yuewei Caotang Biji

The most systematic classical records of jiangshi appear during the Qing Dynasty. The scholar and poet Yuan Mei (袁枚) recorded hundreds of stories about jiangshi and ghosts in Zi Bu Yu (子不語), published in 1788. ^[3] The title of the book is an ironic twist on the passage from the Analects in which Confucius says, “The Master did not speak of prodigies, feats of strength, disorders, or supernatural beings (子不語怪力亂神).” Yuan Mei’s Zi Bu Yu contains more than thirty jiangshi-related anecdotes, including tales of jiangshi seeking prey and jiangshi bound by talismans. ^[3]

The Yuewei Caotang Biji (閱微草堂筆記) (written 1789–1798, compiled into a single collection by Ji Yun’s student Sheng Shiyan in 1800), compiled by the contemporary scholar Ji Yun (紀昀, also known as Ji Xiaolan, 1724–1805), also includes approximately 1,200 supernatural tales, among which are numerous descriptions of jiangshi. ^[3][12] These two texts played a crucial role in being the first to systematically commit to writing the jiangshi legends that had circulated through oral tradition.

Soushen Ji and Liaozhai Zhiyi

Earlier traces of jiangshi legends can be found in Soushen Ji (搜神記), written by Gan Bao (干寶, c. 285–336) during the Eastern Jin Dynasty. A pioneering work of zhiguai (志怪) literature, it gathers hundreds of stories about spirits, ghosts, and supernatural phenomena, some of which are regarded as the archetypes of later jiangshi legends. ^[1][10]

Liaozhai Zhiyi (聊齋誌異), written by Pu Songling (蒲松齡, 1640–1715) in the early Qing Dynasty, is a classic of Chinese supernatural literature compiled over roughly forty years and first published in printed form in 1766, containing 491 stories. ^[11] Among these are jiangshi-related tales including “Shī Biàn (屍變, The Corpse’s Transformation),” ^[3] and Pu Songling wove into his stories not just horror but also critiques of human desire and society — going beyond simple horror narratives — exerting a profound influence on Chinese supernatural literature as a whole.

The Characteristics of Jiangshi: Why Do They Hop?

Rigor Mortis and Outstretched Arms

The most distinctive visual characteristic of the jiangshi is the way it hops forward with both arms stretched straight out in front of it. This is explained by the rigidity of the joints caused by rigor mortis. ^[1] With the entire body stiff and unable to bend the knees or move the arms freely, the creature naturally extends its arms forward and leaps with both legs held together.

The skin gradually turns a greenish-white color over time, which is interpreted as the result of fungal growth or decomposition on the corpse. ^[1] In traditional iconography, the jiangshi is often depicted wearing the formal court robes (guānfú) of a Qing Dynasty official and a winter Mandarin hat. This is a vestige of the fact that jiangshi legends took definitive form and were committed to writing during the Qing Dynasty.

Detected by Breath, Sustained by Qi

The jiangshi is said to have almost no sense of sight, detecting its prey through smell and the flow of qi. ^[2] Because it specifically follows the traces of qi emanating from the breath of the living, it is said that holding one’s breath when encountering a jiangshi can help one escape. The jiangshi absorbs shengqi (living qi) rather than blood to obtain its energy for movement, and a powerful jiangshi is also said to bite its victim’s neck or claw at them to steal their vital energy. ^[1]

There are also stories in which those who have fallen victim to a jiangshi also become jiangshi themselves, incorporating into some traditions a concept of contagion similar to Western vampires.

Talismans and Methods of Repulsion

The most powerful tool for warding off a jiangshi is the talisman (符籙, fúlù) written by a Taoist priest. ^[2] It was believed that pasting this talisman — specific characters and magical symbols written in red ink on yellow paper — to the forehead of the jiangshi would bind it in place. This image of the forehead talisman later became the defining visual symbol of jiangshi in Hong Kong cinema.

Other repulsion methods include jujube seeds, mirrors, glutinous rice, and the crowing of a rooster. ^[2] The crowing of the rooster was particularly significant — it was believed that when a rooster crowed, the yang energy grew stronger, causing the jiangshi, a creature of yin energy, to lose its power. Tales of Taoist priests striking bells (dǎ zhōng) or chanting incantations to subdue jiangshi also frequently appear in the legends.

The Golden Age of Hong Kong Cinema: The Birth and Explosion of the Jiangshi Genre

Encounters of the Spooky Kind (鬼打鬼, 1980): The Seed of the Genre

The seed of the jiangshi film genre was planted in Hong Kong in 1980. The film was Encounters of the Spooky Kind (鬼打鬼), directed by and starring Sammo Hung (洪金寶). ^[8] Blending Taoist belief, martial arts, and comedy, the film humorously depicted a confrontation between a jiangshi and a Taoist priest, drawing an explosive response from Hong Kong audiences. With this film, Sammo Hung became the first to successfully establish a new genre formula mixing martial arts action with horror comedy. ^[8]

Mr. Vampire (殭屍先生, 1985): The Perfection of the Jiangshi Film

However, the film that introduced the jiangshi genre to the entire world arrived five years later. The film was Mr. Vampire (殭屍先生) from 1985, directed by Ricky Lau (劉觀偉), produced by Sammo Hung, and starring Lam Ching-ying (林正英). ^[5]

The film was a massive commercial success, grossing over HK$20 million in Hong Kong, and established almost all of the genre’s clichés. ^[5] Lam Ching-ying, with his distinctive single prominent eyebrow, played Master Kau — a Taoist priest who became the iconic character defining the genre. The yellow forehead talisman, the Qing Dynasty court robes, the jiangshi hopping forward with arms outstretched — the standard visual language we associate with jiangshi was essentially established by this film.

The Golden Age of Jiangshi Films: 1985–1992

Following the success of Mr. Vampire, Hong Kong cinema was swept up in jiangshi fever. Sequels poured out. Mr. Vampire 2 (1986), Mr. Vampire 3 (1987), and Mr. Vampire 4 (1988) were produced in rapid succession, and other directors flooded the market with similar works. ^[5] Coinciding with the era when Hong Kong martial arts film stars such as Sammo Hung, Jackie Chan (成龍), and Jet Li (李連杰) were at their peak, jiangshi films — as a unique hybrid genre of martial arts, comedy, and horror — swept across Asia.

During this period, Lam Ching-ying appeared in dozens of jiangshi-related films and was called the “King of Jiangshi Cinema.” His restrained acting and the priest characters who skillfully wielded Taoist ritual became the identity of the genre.

The jiangshi film boom also spread to Korea and Japan. In Korea at the time, Mr. Vampire (released in Korea as Gangsi Seonsaeng) was hugely popular. In Japan, the jiangshi character spread under the name “Kyonshi (キョンシー),” becoming a craze among children and causing figurines and toys to sell out.

The Decline of the Jiangshi Craze

Jiangshi films began to gradually decline from the mid-1990s. The 1997 handover of Hong Kong to China was a decisive factor. Under mainland Chinese censorship standards, content featuring strong Taoist ritual or superstitious elements faced restrictions, and the jiangshi genre gradually lost its footing. ^[5] Furthermore, when Lam Ching-ying died of liver cancer in 1997, the genre also lost its symbolic center of gravity. ^[5][9]

Jiangshi and Western Vampires: What They Share and How They Differ

As jiangshi became known in the West, it acquired the nickname “the Chinese vampire,” but in truth the two entities are fundamentally different.

Similarities

Both entities share these traits: they are both undead — reanimated corpses; they both steal the life force of the living; and they can both be warded off by specific rituals and objects (cross/talisman). ^[6] Both are also afraid of light and active at night.

Key Differences

The differences, however, are even more pronounced. ^[6]

First, what they feed on: Western vampires drink blood, but traditional jiangshi absorb qi — the life force carried in the breath. The blood-drinking element was partially added in later Hong Kong films under the influence of Western vampire mythology.

Second, movement: Western vampires move with human-like fluidity, and can even fly. The jiangshi must hop because its body is rigid.

Third, intelligence: In modern popular culture especially, Western vampires are depicted as beings of high intelligence and deep emotion. The traditional jiangshi is a creature of pure instinct, possessing no intelligence.

Fourth, cultural context: Western vampires are intimately tied to the Christian conception of sin (immortality, temptation, sacrilege), while the jiangshi was born from the Taoist concept of qi, Confucian funerary culture, and China’s traditions of ancestor veneration.

Fifth, methods of repulsion: The cross, garlic, and holy water ward off vampires; the jiangshi is warded off by Taoist talismans, a Taoist priest’s incantations, glutinous rice, and the crowing of a rooster.

Jiangshi in Modern Popular Culture

Jiangshi in Games: Qiqi and Beyond

In the 21st century, the jiangshi has reached global audiences in new ways. In the realm of video games, the influence of the jiangshi is particularly notable.

The globally popular mobile game Genshin Impact (原神) features a jiangshi character named Qiqi. With a purple talisman on her forehead and an outfit styled after Qing Dynasty court robes, Qiqi faithfully follows all the visual codes of the traditional jiangshi while being reinterpreted as an adorable young girl. ^[7] Though she is a jiangshi, she has almost no memory and must constantly take notes — a setting that gives her a unique character.

Overwatch also features a jiangshi-inspired skin for the character Mei, and various RPGs set in East Asian contexts include jiangshi as both monsters and playable characters.

Animation and Drama

Works featuring jiangshi as their subject — such as the Japanese anime Jiangshi-san wa Tomodachi ga Hoshii (僵屍さんは友達がほしい。) — continue to be produced steadily within East Asian fan culture. In Taiwan, dramas and films that reinterpret traditional jiangshi elements in a modern context are being produced, and in China the jiangshi genre is finding new vitality through the format of online dramas.

The Rediscovery of Jiangshi: Horror or Cute?

Interestingly, in modern popular culture the image of the jiangshi has been shifting from frightening to cute. The image of a figure with a talisman on its forehead, arms stretched forward, hopping about, has actually been consumed as a friendly and endearing character icon. Images of jiangshi can easily be found on Halloween costumes, figurines, and emoji, and they are also consumed as nostalgic retro content evoking memories of 1980s Hong Kong cinema.

Interesting Facts to Know

Jiangshi did not originally hop: The jiangshi of classical literature were not hopping creatures. Old and powerful jiangshi were said to be capable of running or even flying. ^[1] The image of arms outstretched and hopping is essentially a visual convention created by Hong Kong cinema.

Holding your breath can help you escape a jiangshi: Because jiangshi detect their prey through the flow of qi (vital energy), stopping one’s breath is said to evade a jiangshi’s detection. ^[1] This aspect was often used to create tense scenes in Hong Kong jiangshi films.

Lam Ching-ying’s signature eyebrow: Lam Ching-ying, who played Master Kau the Taoist priest in Mr. Vampire, became the symbol of the jiangshi-subduing priest with his distinctively prominent single eyebrow. He appeared in so many jiangshi-related films that he became known as the godfather of the genre, and the role of the priest who subdues jiangshi became his defining character.

The jiangshi-vampire hybrid: Some later Hong Kong jiangshi films combined elements of Western vampires (blood-drinking, bat transformation, etc.) into jiangshi characters. This was an intentional hybridization aimed at global markets, and serves as an example of how the jiangshi concept was transformed through contact with external cultures. ^[5]

Glutinous rice is the jiangshi’s natural enemy: In jiangshi folk belief, glutinous rice (糯米) is believed to carry strong yang energy (陽氣) and is therefore particularly harmful to jiangshi, which are creatures of yin energy. Sprinkling glutinous rice around a corpse or feeding it to one was believed to prevent the birth or activity of a jiangshi. ^[2]

Conclusion: A Being That Has Been Hopping for a Thousand Years in a Stiffened Body

The jiangshi is not merely a device for generating fear. Within it is encoded the deep Chinese instinct to return home — the longing to be buried beside one’s ancestors in one’s native land. The han (恨) — the grief and resentment — of those who died alone in distant foreign lands, the anxiety about deaths without proper rites, the fear of souls wandering somewhere between this world and the next: all of this is crystallized in the form of the jiangshi.

Born from the sight of gǎn shī processions walking mountain paths in the dead of night, the jiangshi was committed to writing through the literary notes (bǐjì) of Qing Dynasty scholars, seized screens around the world through Hong Kong cinema of the 1980s, and now accompanies children as an endearing character in mobile games. Its body still stiff, its arms still stretched forward — the jiangshi is still hopping.