Life, performed live

The stage

The origin story of Huichang's theater village is compelling enough on its own. The town itself provides the props.

Situated at the confluence of three rivers and embraced by nearly a kilometer of Southern Song Dynasty (1127-1279) walls, Huichang was once a thriving inland port.

Today, people gather here again — not for trade, but for performances. At the entrance stands a 400-year-old banyan tree. Beside it, a stone arch bears four characters: ci chu you xi ("theater is here").

Farther in rises another ancient banyan. At its roots lies an old well. Each year, at the opening of the festival, Lai and his guests draw water from it to pour onto the tree, a ritual that feels like a blessing for both the festival and the town.

The two banyans are more than landmarks; they are witnesses. Looking at their sprawling branches, it is easy to imagine the countless meetings and farewells they have seen. They seem almost like audience members themselves, quietly observing the human drama unfolding below.

Nearby sits Huichang's local museum, its walls crowded with wooden plaques. In Hakka tradition, these intricately carved pieces are gifts of praise, symbols of honor passed between families and generations.

The same Hakka architecture shapes much of the town. Its signature venue, the Courtyard Theater, was once an ancestral hall built in 1772. For Hakka families, such halls served as the spiritual center of communal life, places to worship ancestors, settle disputes, and mark births, marriages and funerals.

The theater still carries that history. Its walls are weathered, its timber darkened by time. An open courtyard frames the sky above. Even without a performance, it is worth sitting there during the rainy season, watching water trickle down chains and fall in a slow, measured rhythm.

Elsewhere, another ancestral hall has become the Xiuchun Theater. This year, Lai's immersive production Dream Walk guided audiences through its rooms after dark. Under moonlight spilling into the courtyard, the building seemed suspended between dream and reality.

Outside Lai's family home, now transformed into another open-air stage, choreographer Zhu Fengwei staged his dance work Cosmic Tree.

With the old gate behind him, Zhu says he felt strangely connected to his surroundings, a fitting sentiment for a work centered on mortality and reflection.

Even the old print factory and abandoned houses along Northwest Street have become venues. Ancient and modern, local and foreign converge here, just like the three rivers converging just beyond the town walls.