Learn the flowery lingo of Chinas popular palatial conspiracy shows

像宫斗剧里戏精附体的人一样说话

Putting on a successful TV show in China is a challenge. Producers run the constant risk of having their programs cancelled for portraying “incorrect” values or interpretations of Chinese history.

One genre， however， has managed to flourish for decades in spite of these restrictions： the gongdouju， or “court conspiracy drama.” Often set in the lush imperial harems of the Qing dynasty， these shows pit a female protagonist against a host of other manipulative， dangerous， and beautiful women who vie for the emperors favor—while trying to make it to the last episode alive.

The characters of court dramas have become archetypes： the insecure empress; the jealous concubine who schemes her way to prominence; the enigmatic eunuchs who know all the secrets in the palace; and the ambitious maid who might sell out her mistress for the right price.

Despite cliché characters and anachronistic plots—and the sexist premise of many women competing to sleep with one man—these dramas have become pop culture mainstays. The 2012 series Empresses in the Palace， also known as The Legend of Zhen Huan， is the seventh most re-run show on Chinese TV， ranking among old favorites like Journey to the West （1986） and Princess Pearl （1998）. After 2018s The Story of Yanxi Palace hit the airwaves， replicas of the empress hairpin sold out on Taobao， and a hot pot restaurant in the Forbidden City had to suspend operations due to overcrowding by fans eager to dine like their favorite characters.

Mostly， though， these shows vast cultural influence can be felt through the internet memes and pseudo-historic lingo they have spawned. Based on characters stereotypical lines—which， like the plot， are almost identical in every show—palace lingo is already widespread in WeChat essays， customer service messages on Taobao， and everyday conversation. Dont be surprised if your courier sends you a text message that addresses you as 小主 （xi2ozh^， young master）！

THE BACKSTABBERS

While the emperor is nominally in charge， the concubines and the empress are the real architects of drama in any TV palace. These morally ambiguous characters have contributed some of the most famous lines from gongdouju， now used by male and female speakers alike.

Etiquette was paramount in the Chinese imperial court. For that reason， characters never refer to themselves simply as “I，” but change their pronouns based on the social standing of the other person in the conversation. A concubine， when speaking to servants， a lower-ranked concubine， and other subordinates， uses 本宮 （b0ng4ng， “mistress of this palace”）. Next time youre tired and need some alone time to rest， try saying feebly， with a flick of your hand：

The mistress is tired. You can all adjourn.

B0ng4ng l-i le. N@men d4u tu#xi3 ba.

本宫累了。你们都退下吧。

To address her superior—the emperor， empress dowager， or empress—a concubine would refer to herself as 臣妾 （ch9nqi-， “subordinate concubine”）. This can be deployed to comical effect in ordinary conversations.

A： If only you stopped eating fast food， you could lose weight！

N@ zh@y3o bi9 z3i ch～ ku3ic`n， ji& n9ng sh7u！

你只要别再吃快餐，就能瘦！

B： But this humble concubine just cant do it！

Ch9nqi- zu7bud3o a！

臣妾做不到啊！

Backstabbing is the stock-in-trade of a court drama character. The florid gestures and deferential speech patterns are just masks for the curses and insults they want to hurl at their enemies in reality. To confess an embarrassing incident to one of your friends—or just get them really interested in what you have to say—try this classic line used by the villainous empresses in both Princess Pearl and Zhen Huan as they tried to poison the emperors mind against the protagonists：

There is something on this humble concubines mind; she doesnt know if she should say it or not.

Y6u j& hu3， ch9nqi- b&zh～ d`ng ji2ng b& d`ng ji2ng.

有句話，臣妾不知当讲不当讲。

In private， though， a TV concubines claws may come out—and when the mask of politeness drops， no one is safe from her venomous barbs. To express annoyance at someone （jokingly， of course）， try the following insult used by the arrogant Consort Hua on the protagonist in Zhen Huan：

That hypocritical b--ch！

Ji3nr9n ji&shi ji1oqing！

贱人就是矫情！

THE PROUD RULER

Like his concubines， the emperor has to watch how he addresses himself. Some of the usual pronouns are 朕 （zh-n， “the sovereign”）， 孤 （g$， “the solitary”）， and 寡人 （gu2r9n， “the widowed”）.  It has become trendy to use the pronoun 朕for ones pets， especially cats， the sovereigns of the internet. You might， for example， caption a photo of your kittys suspicious stare：

There are always malicious commoners who want to harm their sovereign.

Z6ng y6u di`om！n xi2ng h3i zh-n.

总有刁民想害朕。

And for the meme of a feline pensively looking out the window：

This is the territory that your sovereign has conquered for you.

Zh- sh# zh-n w-i n@ d2 xi3 de ji`ngsh`n.

这是朕为你打下的江山。

To impersonate the emperor in ordinary conversations， you can try addressing your friends using 爱卿  （3iq～ng， “beloved minister”）. Note that while 卿 is a traditional form of endearment， 爱卿evolved to simply be a term for high-ranking officials， without indicating the emperors affection for them：

Does my beloved minister come to me for any particular reason？

Aiq～ng zh2o w6 y6u sh9nme sh#？

爱卿找我有什么事？

Please speak， my beloved minister.

Aiq～ng q@ng ji2ng.

爱卿请讲。

You can also mimic the imperiousness of an emperor when someone comes to you bearing news：

Report if you have anything to say， and adjourn if you dont.

Y6ush# q@z7u， w%sh# tu#ch1o.

有事启奏，无事退朝。

THE SOCIAL CLIMBERS

Palace servants and eunuchs are at the bottom of the imperial totem pole （relatively speaking， since there is plenty of jockeying for position within the servant ranks in gongdouju as well）. Thus， they use humble personal pronouns like 奴才 （n%cai， “this servant”） and 小的 （xi2ode， “the subordinate”）. When speaking to their masters， they employ flattery， and one line in particular has been picked up by customer service personnel looking for a five-star rating：

Give us a reward， young master！

Xi2ozh^， g0i ge sh2ng ba！

小主，给个赏吧！

One can also use excessive modesty when bidding goodbye between friends：

A： This subordinate needs to go home to walk his dog. Please excuse him from this assembly early.

Xi2ode h1iy3o hu！q& li&g6u， ji& xi`n g3otu# le.

小的还要回去遛狗，就先告退了。

B： Are you riding back to your mansion so soon？ Permit me to attend you to the elevator.

N！n zh- ji&y3o q@ji3 hu！f^ le？ N3 w6 ji& g4ngs7ng n！n d3o di3nt～ ba.

您这就要起驾回府了？那我就恭送您到电梯吧。

Or issuing and responding to lunch invitations：

A： Out of 300 WeChat contacts， the sovereign has selected you to share his noon feast. Wont you express your gratitude？

S`nb2i g- w8ix～n li1nx#r9n， zh-n zh@ q～ndi2n le n@ p9i zh-n g7ngy7ng w^sh3n， h1i b& ku3iku3i xi-8n？

三百個微信联系人， 朕只钦点了你陪朕共用午膳，还不快快谢恩？

B： Your Majesty is wise！ Thank you for your benevolence！ This humble servant will attend your Majesty respectfully！

B#xi3 sh-ngm！ng！ Xi- zh^ l5ng8n！ Xi2ode g4ngy！ng sh-ngji3！

陛下圣明！谢主隆恩！小的恭迎

圣驾！

Or simply when greeting each other：

Peace to you！

G0i n！n q@ng`n！

给您请安！

Other palatial vocabulary can add a sprinkling of regality to your everyday speech. When describing a visit to someone more senior than yourself， instead of 见 （ji3n， “meet”）， use 觐见 （j#nji3n， “seek audience with”）; instead of saying 睡觉 （shu#ji3o， “sleep”）， try 就寝 （ji&q@n， “retire to the bedchamber”）.  The request 别生气了（Bi9 sh8ngq# le， “Dont be angry”） can become 娘娘/大人息怒 （Ni1ngniang/d3ren x～n&， “Please calm your wrath， my lady/lord！”）.

These lines add a dash of drama and tongue-in-cheek humor to your ordinary social interactions， but please be sure to use them only among friends， not during formal occasions. If you accidentally use them at work， dont blame your boss for choosing to respond in kind：

Drag this person out and behead him！

B2 t` g0i w6 tu4 ch$q& zh2n le！

把他给我拖出去斩了！