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Huang (surname)

Huang (, ) is a Chinese surname that means "Yellow". While Huáng is the pinyin romanisation of the word, it may also be romanised as Hwang, Huong, Houang, Hoang, Wong, Waan, Wan, Waon, Hwong, Vong, Hung, Hong, Bong, Eng, Ng, Uy, Wee, Oi, Oei, Oey, or Ooi, Ong, or Ung due to pronunciations of the word in different dialects and languages.

This surname is known as Hwang in Korean. In Vietnamese, the name is known as Hoàng or Huỳnh.

Huang is the 7th most common surname in China. The population of Huangs in China and Taiwan was estimated at more than 30 million in 2007; it was also the surname of more than 2 million overseas Chinese, 4.6 million Vietnamese (5.1%), and an estimated 1 million Koreans (The 2000 census of South Korea revealed it was the surname for 644,294 South Koreans, ranked 17th).

Huang

Huang or Hwang may refer to:

Huang (state)

Huang was a vassal state that existed during the Zhou dynasty until the middle Spring and Autumn period. In 648 BC it was annexed by the state of Chu.

Its capital was in present-day Huangchuan County, Henan province, where ruins of the city have been excavated. Archaeologists have discovered the tombs of Huang Jun Meng (黄君孟; Meng, Lord of Huang) and his wife, with numerous bronzes, jades, and other artifacts.

Usage examples of "huang".

The Renraku matrix retains nothing more than sophisticated analogs and knowbots, and Huang and Cliber are unable to duplicate their earlier apparent success.

In all the ways that counted, the position made Sato more powerful than Sherman Huang, president of Renraku America.

Captain Rozsak wanted that Marine officer on his staff, once Colonel Huang brought her to his attention.

Thandi heard Lieutenant Colonel Huang murmur over the command net, and she nodded, not that anyone could tell from outside her armor.

Colonel Huang had been right about the fish and the barrel, she thought.

It had been the captain who, on the day he recruited Huang to his staff, had told him about something in ancient history called the Indian Mutiny.

First, because she had the experience and steadying influence of Lieutenant Colonel Kao Huang at her side.

Gu Yanwu who, with his friends Lii Liuliang and Huang Zongxi, was rescued by the Helmsman Chen Jinnan when the boat in which they were travelling to Yangzhou was taken over by government agents at the beginning of our story.

Then, when he opened his eyes again, he would see—as if for real—the fine tracery of lines that linked the beadlike stars on the Tun Huang map, and could see, somewhere beyond the dull gold surface, where their real positions lay—out there in the cold, black eternity beyond the solar system.

Lord Huang, however, continues to extend himself upon a faith in the Astronomers ever in need of re-convincing, wagering ever more stupendous Sums upon the ecliptick Innocence of ev'ryone else, not only Silk-Merchants but presently Bankers, other Lords, and their Generals, until the terrible Day when Hsi or Ho, or both, whilst casting Calculations for an upcoming Total Solar Eclipse, with fingers Greas'd from the giant platter-ful of Dim Sum, which, having given their personal gold Chop-Sticks away as tokens of desire to the operatick Personage Miss Chen, they are absent-mindedly eating from by Hand, happen to mis-count enough critical Beads of the Abacus to throw their Prediction off by hours.

This object was a complexity the size of a small house, shock-mounted on a web of girders that ran from it in every direction, and Huang Gun understood that it must house the central processor.

He sat in a darkened lorcha, anchored along the east bank of one of the myriad northern tributaries of the Huang Pu, There, amid the cacophonous calls of the night birds, the enginelike whirring of the insects, he sat with his youngest brother.

Huang began, his voice harrowed with the agony of grief, horror, and guilt.

Smiling at a pair of guests who had just arrived, she went across to the House Steward, Huang Peng, who stood beside the great outer doors welcoming each guest.

This particular Sunday, with a brisk, cool wind blowing in from the Huang Pu River, Zilin, dressed in a dark pinstriped business suit, entered the precincts of the cemetery clutching in his white fists the joss sticks that he ritually lit in front of the grave while he knelt, reciting the Buddhist sutras that should have been said at the funeral Mai had never had.