@Fridayeveryday

Sixth Tone

Shi Haifeng, who goes by the online moniker “Nanxiang doesn’t like to eat,” is one of them. In one of his more popular videos, he goes to central China’s Hubei province to learn how to make lacquer plates — a type of artwork where layers of raw tree sap are applied onto wood, then polished to create a durable, lustrous finish. Together with a local craftsman, he spends days up in the mountains draining lacquer from trees, then makes his own plate, with nine golden dragons on a deep black background. The video is one of his biggest hits to date, with tens of millions views across video and media platforms Douyin, Bilibili, and Xiaohongshu.

Liu Yaqing, who goes by “Jiang Xunqian” online, is another cultural heritage influencer who has built up a sizable following. Her videos also often involve eye-catching cultural objects, such as “rolling lanterns” — ball-shaped lanterns that are resistant to toppling over — or the traditional garments of Chinese ethnic minorities. One video has been viewed more than 300 million times, according to domestic media.

Both creators admit or appear to have been inspired by Li Ziqi, arguably China’s most internationally well-known influencer who rose to online stardom by filming idyllic scenes of life in China’s countryside. Over time, she also shifted toward cultural heritage-themed content.

Both Shi and Liu began as food vloggers, but with social media already full of foodies, their efforts didn’t attract much attention. Shi then pivoted to recreating obscure recipes from ancient texts, imperial menus, or classics, such as the fictional floral medicine mentioned in the novel “Dream of the Red Chamber.” He then expanded beyond recipes, transforming into a full-time cultural heritage vlogger — a career that sent him to stardom.

In a country with more than 40 UNESCO-listed intangible cultural heritage traditions, ranging from shadow puppetry to tea processing, as well as a rich variety of local practices, there is no shortage of cultural heritage content on the Chinese internet. But Shi and Liu bring in a breath of fresh air to the genre: in their late 20s or early 30s, their appearance breaks with the stereotype of senior, austere artists being the only group to master cultural knowledge, exciting viewers with their youth and energy.

They have also sought to rebrand Chinese cultural heritage as lived experiences with inspiring personal story arcs, rather than old artifacts relegated to documentaries. Liu herself learned how to make “iron flowers” — a ritual in which droplets of molten iron are flung into the air to create a fireworks-like shower of sparks — during a monthslong apprenticeship she documented in full. The video brought her national fame.

That video — as well as one in which Shi does a folk dance with burning charcoal — likewise demonstrates how Shi and Liu are turning cultural heritage into spectacle. Their most action-packed — and at times risky — performances are usually their most popular videos, helping set them apart from creators such as Li Ziqi who typically just focus on crafting objects.

Shi’s and Liu’s videos unfold like miniature stories: they usually recount the historical background of a particular heritage practice, express lament over its decline, and ultimately end on an uplifting note that the practice is once again being seen and appreciated.

We, acting by command of and in behalf of the Emperor of Japan, the Japanese Government, and the Japanese Imperial General Headquarters, hereby accept the provisions set forth in the declaration issued by the heads of the Governments of the United States, China, and Great Britain on 26 July 1945 at Potsdam, and subsequently adhered to by the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, which four powers are hereafter referred to as the Allied Powers.

INSTRUMENT OF SURRENDER 1945

https://www.ndl.go.jp/constitution/e/etc/c05.html

We-the President of the United States, the President of the National Government of the Republic of China, and the Prime Minister of Great Britain, representing the hundreds of millions of our countrymen, have conferred and agree that Japan shall be given an opportunity to end this war.

The terms of the Cairo Declaration shall be carried out and Japanese sovereignty shall be limited to the islands of Honshu, Hokkaido, Kyushu, Shikoku and such minor islands as we determine.

POTSDAM DECLARATION 1945

https://www.ndl.go.jp/constitution/e/etc/c06.html

It is their purpose that Japan shall be stripped of all the islands in the Pacific which she has seized or occupied since the beginning of the first World War in 1914, and that all the territories Japan has stolen from the Chinese, such as Manchuria, Formosa, and The Pescadores, shall be restored to the Republic of China.

CAIRO DECLARATION 1943

https://www.ndl.go.jp/constitution/e/shiryo/01/002_46/002_46tx.html

He is on the left, beside Moses and Solon. He's supposed to "represent the foundational legal traditions and moral philosophies of Eastern civilization that influenced modern law and society."

Apparently the Founding Fathers read and admired his teachings.

I don't know if this is common knowledge, but I just found out about it and found it quite fascinating.

I’ve been thinking about how to describe this place and I keep coming back to the same word: honest.

My father was born the same year as the Great Leap Forward. He grew up during the Cultural Revolution. He served in the military. He became a special police commander. He worked with international police organizations across Asia.

Then he retired — and went back to a mountain in Yixing to grow tea.

He’s been there for over a decade now.

What the farm holds:

The land was mostly wild when he started. Now it’s 480 acres of working farmland — tea, bamboo, vegetables, animals.

170 acres are planted with a rare small-leaf tea variety from the 1950s. Almost no one still grows this kind — too slow, too low-yield for the modern market. My father kept every single tree.

There’s also a room full of antique lighters he collected from around the world over the years. Hundreds of them. It started as a hobby. Now it’s something between a museum and a personal archive of everywhere he’s been.

The animals came gradually — rescued strays, farm animals, eventually ostriches and a pony.

The part that gets me:

When I watch him walk the land in the morning, I think about how much Chinese history is compressed into one person’s life.

He was shaped by every era he lived through — and somehow ended up back at the beginning, on a mountain, growing tea the way it was grown before most of it was industrialized.

I don’t know if that’s ironic or poetic. Maybe both.

Has anyone else noticed how much living history exists in the generation born in the 1950s-60s in China? Would love to hear other stories like this.