A vessel of Eastern poetry

On Douyin, China's TikTok, followers affectionately call Zhu Liqun "Uncle Zhu". In his popular videos about luo, a type of silk, the comment section is flooded with the same lament: "Can't buy it, literally can't buy it!"

As a master inheritor of the wuluo traditional weaving technique, Zhu weaves silk fabric that has been passed down for over 1,000 years. Yet, even with modern machinery, supply can barely keep up with surging demand.

Luo, among the earliest silk textiles in China, has long been a graceful presence in classical poetry, a refined material once reserved solely for royalty and nobles. Zhu, a bearer of intangible cultural heritage, has breathed new life into this nearly lost art.

To Zhu, luo is never just cloth. It is a treasure of wisdom passed down by ancestors. Unlike other silk fabrics, such as ling, chou and duan, each with its own weaving technique, luo features a unique structure of twisted warp threads that form natural, airy mesh holes. It is lightweight, breathable, and is often described as a "natural wearable air conditioner", perfect for summer garments.

For over 1,000 years, Suzhou in Jiangsu province has been renowned for its weaving mastery. Originating from the Wu region of ancient China, present-day Suzhou lies at the center of this area, where the wuluo weaving technique was refined over centuries, reaching its peak during the Tang (618-907) and Song (960-1279) dynasties.

Lifelong bond

Having spent a lifetime amid looms and silk threads, Zhu remains passionate. Even at 68, he goes to his workshop in Suzhou each day to develop new patterns.

"Mastering a craft for 50 years doesn't rely on cleverness but on slogging through step by step. Only by calming the mind can you make fine wuluo," he says.

In 1976, Zhu joined a silk factory in Suzhou. Starting as an operator, he endured the challenges of learning the trade and considered giving up, but his master's guidance and his own perseverance kept him going.

For two decades, he worked day and night, honing his skills. "Luo is incredibly hard to weave. When I first started, I wanted to quit many times. It's not that I'm dumb; it's that the technique is so complex. One wrong thread, and you have to start over," he recalls.

The signature technique is the "twisted warp". Warp threads twist together, creating natural, minute holes thin enough to let light pass through, yet remarkably strong. Zhu compares the loom to an ancient computer, and every pattern on the fabric is like a piece of code. He is the coder.

An ancient saying goes: "Respect the luo garment first, then respect the person who wears it." Wearing clothes made with luo always symbolized status and taste in ancient China. The process is laborious and time-consuming.

Zhu says that ordinary weaving can produce 5 meters of cloth, but luo yields only 1 meter. Two workers can create only 5 to 10 centimeters in a full day.

In 1996, Zhu founded his own factory, dedicating himself to researching patterns and restoring many lost ancient techniques. He also began replicating precious silk artifacts. In 2014, invited by the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, he took on the challenge of reproducing a xiapei — a magnificent silk shawl worn by noblewomen — unearthed from a Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) tomb in Nanchang, Jiangxi province.

"Just studying its structure took a week. It was incredibly hard," he recalls.

Faced with fragmented relics, he used a microscope to unravel the threads inch by inch, calculating warp and weft ratios and construction repeatedly. After three years of trials, he not only re-created the shawl but also recovered the entire weaving process.

Zhu says that artifact restoration not only revives ancient techniques but also deepens his understanding of weaving techniques across dynasties, fueling innovation for modern fabrics.

Over the years, Zhu has weathered industry ups and downs. His fabrics were once exported to Japan and South Korea, gaining overseas fame. He also endured tough times when the market slumped, and he couldn't pay wages. Yet, he never abandoned his veteran craftsmen, holding fast to the authentic lineage of wuluo.