Dahan, meaning “Major Cold,” is the last of China’s 24 Solar Terms and traditionally marks the coldest period of the year. It usually falls around January 20th, when winter reaches its seasonal peak before gradually giving way to spring.
It is the cold of a bare branch against a slate sky, of breath hanging crystalline in the air.
Dahan emphasizes rest, storage, and patience.
In ancient wisdom, this was a time to stay warm, nourish the body, and gather quietly before the turn of the seasons. “In dahan, stay close to the fire. Don’t open the door without cause.”
Farming activities were minimal, and people focused on maintaining health, repairing tools, and preparing for the next agricultural cycle.
However, its true meaning is not found on a thermometer. Dahan is a turning point. It is the final note of winter’s movement, the moment when the silence is fullest, right before the first, faint callback of life. It is the ultimate yin — the dark, cold, latent feminine principle in Chinese cosmology — pregnant with its imminent opposite, yang.
As folk wisdom goes: Dahan to the extreme brings the turn to warmth. After hardship, fortune arrives.
This idea — that the seed of spring is hidden in the heart of deep winter — is what makes the term so resonant and so untidy to translate. “Great cold” feels merely descriptive. “Severe cold” is purely meteorological. They miss the philosophical heft, the sense of a destined, cyclical climax.
The next solar term, only two weeks away, is lichun (立春, beginning of spring).
Dahan signals that the Chinese New Year is approaching. Families traditionally clean their homes, closing out the old year in preparation for the new.
Dahan represents an important idea in Chinese philosophy: when things reach an extreme, change begins.
Although it is the coldest moment, it also signals that winter is nearing its end.
So let us appreciate this great, this greater, this major, this severe cold. It is not an end, but a gathering. A deep breath held before the exhalation of green and growth. The stillness, after all, is where the waiting seeds dream.
Hugo Tseng has a doctorate in linguistics, and is a lexicographer and former chair of Soochow University’s English Department.
https://www.taipeitimes.com/News/editorials/archives/2026/01/20/2003850880