On a warm spring morning in 1984, Dong Yao-hui and his two young friends pulled on backpacks and set out on a hike of the Great Wall. 【小题1】 From there they went forward to the vast west. By sunset, they took shelter in ancient towers where soldiers once stood guard, perhaps watching for invaders from the north.

The walk of 17 months and 8, 850 kilometers tests persistence. But it’s well worth the effort. 【小题2】 The trip would not only change their lives but the fortunes of the wall itself, helping preserve it and lift it to the status it holds today.

On completing their journey, they published their experiences in a book. As they shared their adventures, it became clear that it was not just the physical demands but also the emotional impact that left lasting impressions.

【小题3】 Since then, China has made a number of measures to protect the attraction. In 2006, for instance, the State Council issued the Regulation on the Protection of Great Wall to strengthen laws concerning its preservation and regulate activities on the structure.

The Cultural Relics Administrative Department has been given control over the overall protection of the Great Wall. 【小题4】.

Dong places his hands on the weathered wall, as he did 35 years ago. But today, he thinks more deeply on a mission grander than his own journey. “Someone dug up some earth, making it into a brick,” he says. “Someone else brought it all the way up the mountain and built a wall. Then many people guarded the wall for hundreds of years. The Great Wall is definitely alive. 【小题5】.”

By drawing patterns on the surface of a cup of tea, chabaixi, an ancient Chinese tea trick displayed in a recent TV drama, has gone viral (走红) for its apparent similarity with modern latte art (咖啡拉花艺术). However, ten years ago, this distinctive technique was close to disappearing completely. Zhang Zhifeng, a practitioner of chabaixi, found scenes of chabaixi in the drama aroused great interest among ordinary people.

Chabaixi can create endless patterns such as bamboos and mountains or even calligraphy. There are over a dozen steps, from grinding (碾碎) tea for fine powder, to pouring boiled water, stirring the mixture for thick froth, and finally drawing the patterns. It is different from making latte because people use clear water as the object to put into the cup instead of milk. But when the water touches the surface of whipped (搅打起泡沫的) tea, it turns into a white color and disappears in 20 minutes. The process before the drawing is known as the tea-making technique, diancha. The quality of diancha is crucial to whether patterns can be successfully produced later.

“Chabaixi is one of the countless forms of tea-making techniques in China. The importance of chabaixi is not only that this technique is unique in the world, but also it gives us a window into people’s lifestyle in the Song Dynasty, a period of time when leisure activities in some ways like what we have now,” Zhang said.

Before chabaixi was discovered by TV audiences, the technique was listed as part of China’s Intangible Cultural Heritage in 2017, after it was recovered by Zhang Zhifeng. He started researching the origins of chabaixi in the 1980s and brought the technique back in 2009 after decades of trials and practice. Zhang spent nearly 30 years studying and researching the origins and making of tea, but for him it was all worthwhile.

“This technique is key to the tea culture of the Song Dynasty, and it would be a shame to let it fade. This technique must be passed on to the next generations so they can understand its history,” Zhang said.

Sundays are for sewing. That much, at least, has not changed for Bo Dollis Jr.

During Memorial Day weekend, after New Orleans officials relaxed social distancing rules, the Big Chief of the Wild Magnolias Mardi Gras Indians got his tribe together for the first time since everything came unglued. About 15 people came, and they sat together on folding chairs, laughing, joking, and sewing. Each had an open toolbox stuffed with small plastic bags of beads (珠子) at their feet and a stretched canvas across their laps. They shared advice and suggestions as easily as they passed around needles, with which they attached beads to the canvas in the shape of bears, horses, and native people.

For Dollis, the sewing session marked a return to normalcy and an opportunity to continue sharing this New Orleans tradition he learned from his father. It ends each spring when tribes across the city unveil their year’s work: A hand- beaded masterpiece of color and feathers—a new suit—that shines in the southern sunlight as the tribes sing, dance, and show off how pretty they are.

Traditionally, Mardi Gras Indians have but a few days to wear their suits, including Mardi Gras Day and St. Joseph’s Day in March. The coronavirus, however, interrupted this tradition. New Orleans officials shut down public events and began enforcing social distancing just days before St. Joseph’s.

Instead of parading on the streets with his tribe, Dollis sat at home that night and cried. “That was a heartbreaker.” he said.

For many of New Orleans’ chefs, musicians, dancers, Mardi Gras Indians, singers, and street performers, the coronavirus has meant a loss of income, opportunity, and stability. For some, it’s brought sickness and grief. And for all, it has challenged how they identify and express themselves. But this city has been forged by challenge for hundreds of years. Over its history, one thing has proven true: New Orleans can not be infected, flooded, burned, or defeated.

“A disaster is a disaster. Hard times are hard times,” said Dollis. “We know every year we should expect a hurricane, so we’re psychologically prepared to handle it. ... Every year, we make a new suit. It’s in the genes.”