Can you imagine seeing a go contest with real people as the chess pieces?

Do you know how those chessmen walk on a 1,005-square-metre chess board built by an ancient wall?

I was lucky to witness such a contest during my recent trip to Fenghuang, a small town in Central China's Hunan Province.

That was really a fun game. And it was, as I understood, actually a performance rather than a real competition because the game there included interesting displays of local customs.

Surrounded by mountains and on the Tuojiang River, this small town is famous for its beautiful landscape, and rich cultural legacy of the ethnic Tujia and Miao people.

On a drizzling morning my friends and I went to the big chess board, built some 10 kilometres away at the Southern Great Wall, where two nine-dan masters, Chang Hao from China and Cho Hunhyun from the Republic of Korea (ROK), would start a competition.

At the foot of the wall, which is believed to have been built during the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) in the southern part of the country to defend against the Miao people from the south, there was a newly built large go or weiqi board.

The board was made of red sandstone and slabs from Fenghuang.

Before the game began, on the northern mountain slope, there was a group of so-called "wizards" of the Miao people standing in a shape of an ox head. They were blowing ox horns to pray for a successful game. Echoing with the low and deep sounds from ox horns were the regular and inspiring drum beats. About 30 Miao women, standing in a line, each beat a large drum with a diameter of more than one metre.

"Look at the woman in the middle," said the guide. The woman, dressed in a black Miao costume, was beating the largest drum. She was really different. She danced as she beat the drum, and she knew well how to display her charm through every move. Although there was a long distance between her and us, we could almost feel her waist was so supple through her actions. She was the newly elected Drum Queen of the Miao people.

Then the game began. Chang and Cho were playing the game of go on the eastern gate tower of the Southern Great Wall. And each of their steps would be displayed by a young kung fu practitioner.

The 361 children from a local martial arts school were divided into two groups, black and white, standing for the two colours of the weiqi pieces. Each of them wore black or white costumes which made them look like ancient swordsmen with wide-rimmed bamboo hats, either in black or white. Through performing almost 50 movements and martial arts positions, like drunken boxing or free sparring, those children moved on the huge board, according to where Chang or Cho had placed their pieces.

On the eastern gate tower, Chang and Cho competed fiercely in silence, while those kung fu children fully displayed the cut-throat competition to the audience in a direct and dynamic way.

Both go and martial arts originated in China's distant past and they are still alive today as traditional Chinese culture. This is the first time these two different genres, one static and one dynamic, have been brought together to show the essence of traditional culture.

With drizzle dropping softly on my face, breathing fresh air in this remote mountain area, listening to the singing of Miao girls from the ancient wall, looking at the dazzling kung fu performance, I felt like I had entered a fictional world.

At the end, ROK player Cho defeated Chang. But it seemed no one cared for the result. Everyone there was intoxicated by the beautiful landscape and never-never land.

According to the local government, such games will be held from time to time.

Apart from this game, Fenghuang has many other charming features, particularly its architecture.

The town is most famous for its Miao-style railing-type houses, most of which stand along the Tuojiang River. These are two-story wooden structures whose lower storeys are supported by several heavy logs standing tilted on the ground, and whose large, wide upper storeys lean over the river. The upper storey is beautifully crafted and decorated, with up-turned eaves and carved windows, doors and railings. The lower storey has no living rooms, but the tilted sections are ornately carved.

Now there are only a dozen Qing Dynasty (1644-1911) and early Republican period houses left.

Under the transparent rays of early morning sun and against the green Nanhua Mountains, the soft and gentle Tuojiang River is like a blue silk string. The railing-type houses stood quietly along the Tuojiang River sides. And some local residents, who woke up early, were squatting by the river and washing clothes or vegetables.

Strolling along the river, soon my attention was caught by bridges over the Tuojiang River. A 100-metre-long narrow wooden bridge supported by 15 stone blocks spans the Tuojiang River. This used to be the city's only exit, called the "Jumping Rock" by the local people. The bridge is so narrow that it must be crossed in single file. If two people cross the bridge from opposite directions, they must carefully turn and walk sideways.

The other bridge, if it could be regarded as a bridge, is only made up of a number of stone blocks. There are two rows of such stone blocks, one higher and one lower. I tried to walk from one block to the other. At first, I was a little bit afraid. Looking at the water flowing under my feet, I felt my legs trembling. But after walking to and from for several times, I found so much fun on such a special bridge.

My Fenghuang trip really offered me an escape from the daily grind. Maybe I will return again some day when I get bored with the bustling city.

(China Daily November 8, 2003)