In China’s far south, near the border with Vietnam, the landscape unfolds into rolling karst hills, bamboo groves, and limestone cliffs rising over winding rivers. This is Chongzuo, a quiet corner of Guangxi rich in biodiversity and home to many of China’s ethnic minorities, including the Zhuang people.
Here, in a shaded courtyard, a man lifts a slender wooden instrument. Its shape is unmistakable: gracefully curved like a crescent moon, worn smooth by generations of use. As he begins to play, the notes are clear and deliberate, a melody passed down through time. The musician is Li Shaojun, the tenth-generation inheritor of tianqin, continuing a family tradition that spans more than three centuries.
For the Zhuang people, tianqin is more than an instrument — it is a vessel for storytelling. Once heard at weddings, festivals, and village rituals, its melodies marked everything from courtship songs to prayers for harvests. According to Zhuang legend, the first tianqin was created from a gourd, a staff, and the beard of a mountain god — a divine gift to a couple seeking to save their people during a time of drought. Originally named ding after the sound it produced, the instrument later became known as tianqin, or “heavenly qin,” reflecting its ceremonial use in prayers for good harvests and favorable weather.
Today, the tradition continues quietly, upheld by dedicated practitioners like the Li family. As one of its last true masters, Li Shaojun has made it his life’s work to keep the tianqin from falling silent.
With only two strings, the tianqin may seem modest, but it is a work of fine craftsmanship, carved from locally sourced woods such as longan, mulberry, or camphor — chosen for their tonal richness and lasting strength. The body is shaped with care, its curves designed to enhance resonance, while the surface is polished to a smooth, almost silk-like finish.
In recent years, Li has begun teaching students in his family courtyard, sharing not only technique but a deeper understanding of the instrument’s cultural significance. He also travels across Guangxi to perform at festivals and record traditional Zhuang pieces, ensuring the music reaches beyond his hometown.
Back in his village, Li has also formed a local tianqin troupe, organizing rehearsals in the evenings after the day’s farm work is done. The music offers a way for neighbors to come together at the end of the day, to unwind, connect, and share in something meaningful.
Through these efforts, the tianqin remains part of a living culture. It is not only preserved, but practiced, taught, and heard. In the hands of Li Shaojun, the instrument continues to speak, linking past and present through sound.
Words by Gabrielle Keepfer
Video produced by WildChina碧山
Cinematography and editing by Charles Zhu
Subtitles by Oreo Zeng and Gabrielle Keepfer
A special thanks to: Li Shaojun and the Li family
Location: Chongzuo, Guangxi province
