A family heirloom

Such acrobatic boat performances thrived in the late Qing Dynasty (1644-1911). In modern times, they have been recognized for their value, and were named a national intangible cultural heritage by the State Council in 2011.

The whole set of performances, lasting about 10 minutes in total, involves more than 20 different moves, all of which need to be delivered smoothly and artistically, according to Tu.

"Due to gravity, the bamboo pole will bend almost 90 degrees toward the surface of the river, swaying up and down in the air and giving the activity a relatively high degree of danger," Tu says.

More than two decades of putting on the intense show has rendered Tu's body sinewy and tough. Though in his 50s, he is muscularly fit. His thick hair remains largely black.

He says the boat show not only helps him maintain a healthy physique but also gives him an immense sense of satisfaction.

Walking into his home in Zhouquan, a feature that immediately catches the eye is a long steel pole standing upright on the ground.

Every morning and evening, Tu goes through his performance routine on this spot.

"When the weather is good, I also go to the fields and find a tree to tie a bamboo pole to and practice outdoors," he says.

Tu has been exposed to the art form since childhood, when his father and grandfather would tell him about the glories of acrobatic performance. Yet, the annual water festival was halted for several decades after around 1950, causing its associated practices to stagnate.

However, their accounts piqued Tu's curiosity and he insisted on his father and grandfather showing him the moves. "I watched them perform and practice, and gradually picked up the fundamental skills," he says.

Although he only got to scratch the surface of the art in those early years, it planted the seeds of interest in his heart.

After being discharged from the military in 1998, Tu needed to plan out a new future as a civilian, and decided he would try to make a career out of his family feat.

"It (the boat show) just came to my mind," he says, adding that he had noticed the decline of the performance. "I also felt it was a shame that such a spectacular skill passed down by our ancestors was on the verge of extinction."

He then returned home, cut his own bamboo pole, and found a venue to practice in on a daily basis. He got off to a rough start, however, as few people understood why he would so doggedly pursue a dying art.

"At that time, many people laughed at me and thought that my doing this was meaningless," he recalls. "It was a helpless situation."

Not only did Tu feel frustrated about people's underwhelming enthusiasm, he also struggled to hone his skills. "When I got down to it, I realized that the moves were not as easy as I had imagined they would be," he admits.

At the beginning, he encountered difficulties with the level of coordination and strength required of his body.

"It was a test of my body and willpower, climbing to the top of the pole and completing the entire set of movements," he says.

But he was committed to a daily routine of strict training, and committed himself to daily practice of the show.

He says he lost count of the number of times he fell from the bamboo pole. His hands are covered in calluses from its rough bark.