The border town of Hala Wuz in Tacheng is nestled among snow-capped mountains, a boundary river, and grasslands. It is also home to the simple way of life shared by many ethnic groups across generations. The town’s felt carpets and silverwork have been passed among its communities for centuries, their patterns preserving history, customs, and the memories of their ancestors.
Agu was born into a family of craftspeople and is the third generation to carry on its traditions. He grew up in his grandfather’s felt tent and beside his father’s silverwork table, learning the softness of felt carpets and the gleam of silver ornaments. He also remembered the words, “Never forget where you come from.”
But the times are quietly changing the town’s fate. Machine-made felt floods the market, traditional crafts fall into decline, and young people leave to seek opportunities elsewhere. The once-bustling market grows quiet. For the first time, Agu feels that everything he cherishes is being pushed to the margins by the times.
In search of a way to keep the craft alive, he leaves home to study in Tacheng. The unfamiliar campus, cold statistics, assembly-line factories, and the practical choices of young people bring him face-to-face with the sharp conflict between tradition and modernity.
The roar of the factory, the cultural and creative products on the commercial street, the debates in class, and his classmates’ choices all force him to think:
Is tradition really destined to have no place in the future?
Can the value of craftsmanship only survive as a memory in a museum?
Amid confusion and tentative exploration, Agu gradually realizes that carrying on a tradition doesn’t mean clinging to the past, and change doesn’t mean turning your back on it.
The patterns on felt carpets, the hammer marks on silver ornaments, and the breeze blowing along the river may still find new ways to be seen.
