But Wang was not always so polished. A year ago, fresh out of university, he was lost: "I didn't know where to direct my passion."

He applied online to become a "cultural NPC" at Hetou Old Street. On his first day as Li Bai, a visitor asked him about one of the poet's lesser-known works, Ode to Gallantry. Wang drew a blank.

Although he deflected with a joke, he could not sleep that night.

"I felt I had failed the visitor who stood in front of me," he says. "And I felt I had failed Li Bai, because this role carries with it culture and responsibility."

That failure spurred him to memorize poems, learn from veteran performers, and refine his bearing. The turning point came when a heartbroken visitor asked for advice. His improvised poem, featuring four lines on the transient nature of relationships, struck a chord online.

"Ancient poetry really can comfort people. The thing I've been holding on to has finally found an echo," he says.

What truly drove the lesson home, though, was a sixth-grade boy. The boy asked Wang to explain a difficult poem. A week later, he returned and recited the entire piece from memory, adding emotion.

"At that moment, the transmission of culture became tangible," Wang says.

Young performers like Feng and Wang are emerging at tourist sites across China. They thrive not only on their own efforts but on the systems that support them.

Wuzhen, a historical canal town in eastern China's Zhejiang province, evolved from a place of "old, broken and new houses" into a tourism hot spot through cultural enrichment.

In 1999, when Chen Xianghong took over its tourism development, the place had no visitors, no attractions, no businesses, and no brand.