Is death truly a taboo in Chinese culture?

    Two thousand years ago, Zhuangzi leaned against his door and sang of life and death: "Majestic is the Great Transformation! What shall it turn thee into? Whither shall it send thee?"

    For over a year as a volunteer in palliative care, I have witnessed countless moments of life’s passing—moments filled with pain, regret, but also love and reconciliation. Among them, I met "Phoenix"—a young girl, barely ten years old. I wove her story into the script of a shadow play: a celestial phoenix descends to the mortal world, spending ten fleeting years to learn love, hope, and the art of farewell. These experiences have made me realize: death is not merely a singular taboo but a plural, polyphonic narrative of life.

    Shadow play is an embodiment of life and death—one thin screen divides two worlds, much like the boundary between the living and the departed. Yet, as light pierces the screen, shadows intertwine, just as life and death exist in eternal flux, like day and night in the rhythm of the cosmos. Beneath the translucent veil of leather, the phoenix spreads its wings, peach blossoms drift and fall. A thousand years ago, artisans cast ancient legends and culture into silhouettes—now reflected upon the screen of palliative care.

    When shadow play encounters folklore and real end-of-life experiences, we embark on a journey to explore how Chinese culture tells its own stories of death and negotiates its taboos.