Something a little different on Chinese Tuesdays today, as we're expanding our remit to include history and myth as well as language. We're not usually ones to share gifs on the Anthill, but this time map of the shifting territories of China throughout its dynasties, from 1000BC to present day, is fascinating. Hat tip here to our new friends and partner site Fuck Yeah Chinese Myths!

This map should be enough to disabuse you of the notion that "China" is a fixed entity and not an empire. Ditto that Tibet and Xinjiang always have and always will be part of it, etc. – although do note that many of the boundaries are disputed by scholars, and regional influence is of course harder to pin down. Here's the map, enjoy:

An afternoon with a Chinese Pick Up Artist – by Alec Ash

Xia'er, a 22 year old music graduate from Hunan province, is short, with a boyish complexion and no steady job. He is an average catch.

Cirl, professional Pick Up Artist, has a ripped body, the confidence of a God, wears sparkling jewelry and does magic. He is a ladykiller.

Cirl exists in Xia'er's mind, also known as studtown. In there, it's 24-7 happy hour on manmeat, and the ladies are queuing up like it's half-price prime-rib steak for sale in East Berlin. If you let Xia'er keep talking, you might make the same mistake of thinking he is Cirl. If you let him do his magic tricks on you, and have two X chromosomes, watch out, you'll be another notch on his wall the next morning.

Beijing's worst Buddhist retreat – by Nona Tepper

After one prostration too many, the weak among us fled the Buddha Room in order to catch some sleep, steal breakfast from the Snack Room, and walk from Longquan Monastery to the foot of Phoenix Mountain, where they shivered in the February darkness to wait for the earliest bus.

It was 4:30am on the final morning of a three day Six Steps Buddhist Retreat, a free workshop near Beijing’s summer palace established to spread knowledge of Buddhism. Twelve of us had signed up for the retreat, having been promised that we would “feel less tired,” “be sick less often” and live “without any stress”. Instead, for the last 48 hours we had listened to lectures on the “Holocaust, dharma-ending time” (how and why the world is ending), kitchen advice on how to please your Buddhist man – and had performed endless prostrations, the spiritual answer to burpees.

Wang Xizhi 王羲之 (Wáng Xīzhī) was a famous calligrapher of the Eastern Jin dynasty, who lived from 303-361 in Shaoxing, Zhejiang, and is known now as the Sage of Calligraphy (书圣, shūshèng). There's a supposedly true story about him, which is also a classic example of a joke that's lost in translation.

The story goes that when Wang Xizhi's son, Wang Xianzhi 王献之 (Wáng Xiànzhī), who later went on to be a well-known calligrapher in his own right, was young, his father would have him practice for hours on end. One day, Wang Xianzhi brought the results to his father, hoping for praise and encouragement. Wang Xizhi wasn't impressed, however.

Climbing the highest plateau on earth – by Jeff J Brown

Leaving pullulating, steamy Chengdu and heading up to the Land of Snow is a great way to start the day. Up to over 3 km above sea level, up to the remoteness, isolation and naked beauty of the Tibetan plateau, where the air is pure and evanescent, and the sky as translucent as crystal. Up to an emptiness which defies the statistics that so many people live in China.

But you don’t just get on an escalator and saunter effortlessly to the Roof of the World. You have to fight your way up, and my samurai warrior today is an engaging and friendly man named Peng. His sword is a loosey-goosey steering wheel; his war saddle a well-worn driver’s seat; his stirrups an aged clutch, bad brakes and a sticky accelerator pedal; his reigns a cranky, grinding stick shift; and his mighty steed is a fully depreciated rust bucket of a bus that holds about twenty restless souls.