In China, calligraphy occupies a distinguished position in the field of traditional art. It has always been more than simply a tool for communication, but also a means of expressing a person's inner world in an aesthetic sense.

Chinese calligraphy has endured for more than 2,000 years. Inscribed on animal bones, the oracle bone script is the earliest known writing form of Chinese characters. Following the changes of dynasties, it evolved into five main ways of writing, each with different techniques. With the unification of China by the Qin Dynasty, the Prime Minister Li Si(?—208 BC)actively promoted a uniform pattern of writing—the seal script. In the Eastern Han Dynasty, people simplified the seal characters, which had many strokes, and created the official script. The new calligraphy appears to be much neater, turning the round style into a flat one.

Today’s most popular and influential writing style, the regular script, first came into being between the Han and Wei dynasties. Just as the name implies, it features regularity and varies from the flat font to a square one. The period when the regular script flourished most was during the Tang Dynasty, when Yan Zhenqing(708—784) and Liu Gongquan(778—865) successively established schools of their own styles. In striking contrast, the cursive script puts emphasis on flexibility, for it only maintains the essence of each character and expresses more personal exertion. Therefore, its value lies more in appreciation than in practicality.

The Sage of Calligraphy Wang Xizhi(303—361,307—365, or 321—379), together with his son Wang Xianzhi (344 -386), led the art of calligraphy to its summit. Wang Xizhi was a master of all forms of Chinese calligraphy, especially the running script, and is generally recognized as the greatest Chinese calligrapher in history. People placed great value on his calligraphic works, comparing his handwriting to a “flying dragon”, vigorous yet elegant. His preface to the poems collected from The Orchid Parilion, known as a gem of Chinese calligraphy, was the most representative of his style. However, the original work is no longer available for public admiration. It is said to be buried in the tomb of Emperor Taizong of Tang(599-649) since he admired it so much.

Chinese calligraphy has also been introduced to many neighboring countries and has built up a worldwide reputation. Picasso(1881—1973),the world-renowned master of art, reportedly once said, “If I had lived in China, I must have become a calligrapher rather than a painter.” In 2009,Chinese calligraphy was inscribed on the Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity by the U NESCO.

Wu Ming is a young German born after 1995. Wu is a big fan of Chinese culture, such as the Shaolin kung fu, a traditional Chinese martial art. He has been learning traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) since 2016, almost seven years. Now he is studying for his master’s degree at Henan University of Chinese Medicine.

As he thought some diseases can’t be treated thoroughly with Western medicine, he decided to dig into TCM. Wu came to Central China’s Henan province in 2015, where a strong TCM culture can be enjoyed. After one-year of learning Chinese language, he started to learn Chinese medicine. “TCM is one of the best-protected aspects of Chinese culture”, said Wu. He hopes to solve problems and understand Chinese culture deeply by learning TCM.

In the early stages, Wu always tasted some Chinese herbal medicine by himself, just like ShenNong, a character in ancient Chinese stories, who tasted most of the herbal medicine himself. To overcome difficulties in communicating, he also learned and practiced Chinese, especially the Henan dialect, as his teachers, schoolmates, and even some patients speak in Henan dialect in their daily conversations. Although sometimes he still has trouble telling the difference between Mandarin and the dialect, he can use the Henan dialect to communicate with others.

Studying TCM also changed Wu’s mind and lifestyle. He used to be addicted to electronic devices and stay up late every night, trapped in this fast but unhealthy daily life. But now, according to the Yin-Yang principle in TCM, he lives a balanced and peaceful life, practicing good habits such as drinking tea and reading ancient books.

In Wu’s opinion, there’s no big difference between China and Western countries. “We are the same. Misunderstanding comes from being out of touch”, said Wu. He plans to run a traditional Chinese clinic in China or Germany after graduation, which could serve as a bridge between the two countries and attract public attention to TCM and its culture.

With one’s eyes closed, Beijing’s main roads sound like any Chinese city. All around is the noise of traffic, accompanied by honks(喇叭声) from delivery motorbikes, recorded safety warnings from buses and the occasional bell of a rental-bicycle. But in the capital’s last hutongs, pieces of an older soundscape can be heard.

The sound of caged crickets (蛐蛐) is one. Hung in the doorways of courtyard homes or small shops, the insects bring a rural note into the city. A quarter-century ago their song was common. Today, cricket-sellers still exist. A big cricket sells for 20 yuan. They are heirs (继承人) to a grand tradition．

Another is the music of steel plates, announcing a knife sharpener’s arrival. Several such specialists still work in Beijing’s streets. Their sounding-plates, together with a distinctive cry, call customers from hutong homes and high-rise flats. But numbers are falling.

An almost-gone Beijing sound is one of the strangest. It is made by homing pigeons, or more precisely by pigeon whistles. Even 20 years ago, it was possible to hear this sound in the hutongs. It was particularly associated with cold winter skies. Alas, modern Beijing is a city in a hurry. Many hutongs have been torn down to make way for wide roads and tall buildings, leaving no room for pigeon houses.

Zhang Baotong is one of Beijing’s last master pigeon-whistle makers. He learned to make whistles in boyhood. Today Mr. Zhang has a workshop lined with certificates calling him a living treasure. But many of his whistles are sold to collectors and never see the sky. Mr. Zhang is advising a museum of sound that will open soon in Songzhuang, a suburb of Beijing that is popular with artists. A rooftop pigeon house is planned, with more than 100 pigeons that will take to the skies for visitors. It is hoped that pigeon whistles will be heard each day over Songzhuang, at least in cooler months.

The co-founder of Fen Sonic HQ, a cultural institute that will run the museum, is Colin Siyuan Chinnery, a British-Chinese artist and collector of Beijing’s sounds. He lists the sounds and cries used by medicine sellers, doctors and knife sharpeners. Many of these will feature in an exhibit about old Beijing.