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The Chinese Dialect Mix-Up That Made My English Stepdad Downgrade Our Ancestors from Emperor to… King?!

  • Ka Yee Meck
  • 5 days ago
  • 6 min read
The Chinese Dialect Mix-Up That Made My English Stepdad Downgrade Our Ancestors from Emperor to… King?!
The Chinese Dialect Mix-Up That Made My English Stepdad Downgrade Our Ancestors from Emperor to… King?!


Why Chinese “dialects” still confuse even my own family…


Our Friday family dinner took a very surreal turn when I found myself in a full-on debate about Chinese emperors and kings… with my monolingual English stepdad.


The culprit?


Language (…and a spectacular case of “Chinese dialect confusion”.)


Let me explain.


The great Chu/Zhu mix-up


Let me give you a bit of background about my family.


My mum’s surname is 朱. She was born in Shanghai but moved to Hong Kong in her twenties.


A family descended from Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang (or not...?) + my monolingual English stepdad
A family descended from Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang (or not...?) + my monolingual English stepdad

  • In mainland China (Mandarin) → 朱 is romanised as Zhu

  • In Hong Kong (Cantonese) → 朱 is romanised as Chu

  • ... but confusingly, the actual Cantonese pronunciation is → zyu1 (Jyutping)


Yep, pretty confusing, but it gets... worse (or better, depending on your perspective).


(Confused about Cantonese and Mandarin? Watch my explainer video! Or read the blog post)


Cantonese vs Mandarin: EVERYTHING You Need to Know (Explained in 12 Minutes!)


My mum has also long (half-jokingly) claimed that we are descended from the (in)famous Ming dynasty emperor 朱元璋 – Zhu Yuanzhang. Whether she’s right… who knows? But it would explain my teenage acne. (Fun fact: Emperor Zhu had terrible acne scars that disfigured his face.)

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A not-so-flattering portrait of Zhu Yuanzhang!
A not-so-flattering portrait of Zhu Yuanzhang!


In any case, Zhu Yuanzhang was born near Nanjing, not too far from Shanghai – and 朱 is actually a very common surname in this broader region, so it’s not impossible that many people with the surname share some ancestral link.


At the very least, it’s a great family story.


Anyway.


Enter: my stepdad’s “research”


At dinner, my stepdad announced with great enthusiasm:


“I looked into it! I watched a BBC documentary.
Your mum is definitely descended from a king, not an emperor.”

Huh?


Did our ancestry just get... downgraded?!


After several rounds of baffled back-and-forth, it all clicked:


He had been reading/ watching about the  kingdom (Mandarin: Chu) from the Warring States period – an entirely different person, region, era, family, everything.


And the cause of the mix-up?


Because:


  • 朱 = Zhu (Mandarin), Chu (Cantonese)

  • 楚 = Chu (Mandarin), “Co” (Cantonese)

    (but is often romanised as “Chu” in English-language history books)



Same English spelling.


Completely different Chinese characters.


Totally unrelated lineages.


My poor stepdad.😂 I tried explaining. Truly, I did. It all went straight over his head.


Wait… is it Zhu Yuanzhang or Yuanzhang Zhu?


And while we’re talking about confusion, here’s another one that trips up everyone – even people who already know a bit about Chinese names.


In Chinese, the family name comes first. So 朱元璋 is naturally written and said as Zhu Yuanzhang:

• Zhu (朱) → surname

• Yuanzhang (元璋) → given name


Simple enough… until Chinese names enter English.


In Western contexts, names are often flipped to match the given-name-first convention, becoming Yuanzhang Zhu. You’ll see this especially in academic publications, immigration documents, newspaper articles, or whenever English formatting rules take over.


The result?


Two completely different “versions” of the same name floating around – both technically correct, depending on whether you follow Chinese or Western naming order.


As a translator, I run into "problem" semi-regularly.


Interestingly, most of my Chinese clients actually prefer the Westernised order (Given Name + Surname) when they’re dealing with official documents, because that’s what looks “correct” or “natural” in English-speaking contexts. So if I’m translating a degree certificate, it’s typically Yuanzhang Zhu, not Zhu Yuanzhang (I'm using the emperor's name as an example, of course. I don't think he went to uni...)


But every now and then, I’ll get a panicked email from a foreign student who graduated from a Chinese university insisting that I “re-translate” the president’s name because “in Chinese, the surname comes first!!” And yes – they’re absolutely right from a Chinese-language perspective. But when it comes to how names are formatted in translation, it’s often a matter of convention, purpose, and audience, not a rigid rule carved in stone.


Why these mix-ups happen constantly


(and why it’s NOT your fault if you’ve been confused too)


People often talk about “Chinese” as if it’s one language. In reality, it’s more like a family of languages with:


  • different sound systems

  • different romanisation rules

  • different historical influences

  • different “standard” spellings depending on the region


And the deeper you go, the more delightfully chaotic it gets.


Let me give you a few more real-life examples.



Wong vs  Wang vs Huang


Yes, it gets mind-bogglingly confusing.


My maiden name is 黃 (Traditional) / 黄 (Simplified). (Hint: one extra stroke in the Traditional version – can you spot it?!)


Simplified Chinese VS Traditional Chinese (+ How They Relate to Cantonese/ Mandarin)


I grew up in Hong Kong, so my passport follows Cantonese romanisation:

➡️ Wong


In Mandarin pinyin, the surname is spelled:

➡️ Huang


Totally different, right?


Now here’s the real chaos…


王 – one of the most common Chinese surnames – is pronounced exactly the same as 黃 in Cantonese.


If you have ever met a Chinese person whose surname is spelled "Wang" – you've most likely met a 王!


But in Hong Kong, both 王 and 黃 become:


➡️ Wong


Now, imagine two women both called Wong Ka Yee, both appearing identical in English.


But what if I told you that these two women have two completely different names?


  • 黃家頤 (yep, that's actually my Chinese name!)

  • 王嘉怡 (someone else entirely)



Three different characters; zero overlap; same English spelling.


And here’s the plot twist:


If you met a woman in mainland China called Huang Jiayi, you’d probably think, “Ah, a different name again!"


But nope.


Huang Jiayi CAN be the Mandarin version of my name 黃家頤.


Same name – just different romanisation rules.


So, no, I guess I don't blame people like my stepdad for being confused!


I was confused once... (and still find myself feeling confused, even now!)



The “Tan” that wasn’t the “Tan” I thought...



Years ago, I once dated a Malaysian Chinese guy whose surname was Tan.


Naturally, I assumed his surname was:


  • 谭 → Tan in Mandarin pinyin


But when I found out his Chinese name, I was SO shocked!!


  • His surname was actually 陈 (Simplified Chinese) / 陳 (Traditional Chinese) – one of the most common surnames in China

  • In Mandarin pinyin → Chen

  • In Hong Kong Cantonese → Chan

    (Yes, as in Jackie “Chan” – whose actual Chinese name is 陳港生 – I actually had to look that up, because Jackie Chan is known in the Chinese-speaking world as 成龍 – a completely different name!)


So why was my ex's surname "Tan"?


Because Tan is the Hokkien pronunciation of 陈.


Large numbers of Malaysian Chinese are of Hokkien descent due to early migration patterns. Their romanised surnames reflect their dialect/ regional variant, not Mandarin or Cantonese norms.


Which brings us to the bigger point…



“Chinese” is not one language


(And this matters more than people realise)


From Mandarin to Cantonese, Hokkien, Hakka, Shanghainese, Teochew, Fuzhounese, and dozens more, each regional language has:


  • different sounds

  • different tones

  • different historical romanisation systems

  • different ways of writing the same name in English


So one character – or one surname – can have:


  • 3–7 different pronunciations

  • 4+ different romanised spellings

  • multiple historical versions

  • region-specific versions used on passports, academic papers, and official documents


And yet… all of these variations point back to the same original Chinese characters.


It’s confusing.


It’s complicated.


It’s mind-boggling.


But for language buffs, it's also endlessly fascinating.


Final thought


These little linguistic puzzles show just how rich, layered, and culturally deep the Chinese language family truly is. And they’re reminders that names – especially Chinese ones – carry centuries of migration, politics, identity, and heritage inside them.


I didn’t manage to convince my stepdad that my mum is not descended from a king of Chu… but hey, at least we had a fun dinner conversation.


And who knows?


Maybe we are descended from an emperor after all.

 
 
 

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