Tujia Stilt-house Village in Central China, a Home Grown from the Slopes

2025-11-23

The wooden stilted houses of Tujia ethnic group in Shuangfeng Village in Central China's Hunan Province Photos: Courtesy of the local publicity department

Morning mist clings to the dense forests of Jiulong Mountain, wrapping around peaks that rise like a phoenix spreading its wings. Nestled in this rugged embrace, an ancient village cascades up the slopes of the mountain as if it had grown straight from the earth, contributing to a seamless blend of humanity and nature.

As one draws closer, the details of the village's representative building, the wooden stilted house of the Tujia ethnic group, reveal themselves: elevated pillars stand like a crane's legs, supporting gray-tiled roofs that curl toward the sky; carved window lattices filter light from nearby terraced fields.

This is Shuangfeng Village in Yongshun county, Central China's Hunan Province, hailed by a Chinese ethnologist as "China's first village of the Tujia ethnic group."

Here, dozens of wooden stilted houses form not just an architectural marvel, but a showcase of the Tujia people's philosophy of living in harmony with mountains and forests.

"These wooden stilted houses were never isolated structures; they grew from the landscape," Peng Shuzhen, an inheritor of the Tujia traditional hand-waving dance and a nearly life-long resident of the village, told the Global Times.

She explained how the village perches atop the mountain with houses "backed against cliffs and facing streams," ensuring water access while using the terrain as natural protection.

"In Fengshui, we believe the mountain behind the house gives a sense of security, like having a powerful backer," she added with a knowing smile.

Yang Jian, a professor from Hunan University of Science and Technology who has dedicated years to studying Tujia architecture, describes these buildings as more than practical adaptations.

"The stilted houses are the physical embodiment of Tujia ethnic culture and wisdom," he told the Global Times.

The origins of stilted houses trace back to the Tujia practice of slash-and-burn farming.

"Initially, without rice cultivation technology, they could only cultivate dry fields on the mountains," Yang explained.

"Flat land was precious for growing crops, so families built their homes on the slopes, creating what we call 'level heaven [tops] on uneven earth [bottoms],' using elevated structures to create living spaces on steep terrain."

According to Yang, a typical dwelling consists of a main house complemented by a stilted side building. The layout reflects social order: The central hall serves as the heart, featuring an ancestral shrine opposite the main door. It is a space for receiving guests, holding meetings, and conducting rituals. Flanking rooms contain fire pits for cooking, with bedrooms further back where parents and married sons sleep separately.

The stilted side building creates unique vertical divisions: suspended on three sides with one side connected to the main house, the lower-level shelters livestock and stores firewood, while the upper floor becomes a private chamber for unmarried daughters.

"This design addresses humidity and pests while offering girls both protection and independence, reflecting the Tujia ethnic group's family values," Yang observed.

Every architectural detail whispers of ancestral wisdom. This can be seen in the up-swept roof ridges that "reach for heavenly blessings," while carvings of golden squash and begonia flowers invite fortune through nature's imitation. Chrysanthemums and orchid patterns evoke poetic seclusion.

These perfectly preserved corner towers stand as models of Tujia ingenuity, making Shuangfeng Village a classic example among Tujia settlements.

The village compactly contains 56 wooden buildings, the oldest dating to the late Ming (1368-1644) and early Qing (1644-1911) dynasties. Their brilliance lies in its nail-free joinery - interlocking mortise-and-tenon joints.

"Without iron, our ancestors carved wood to interlock like clasped hands," Peng Shuzhen said with a sense of pride. Yang said these mortise-and-tenon structures are "living fossils" of traditional Chinese wooden architecture.

Maintaining these wooden structures also requires proper technique and care. Peng Shuzhen quoted an old carpenter's proverb that has echoed through generations: "Three pounds of oil for a house leads to no bugs and a life of a hundred years." Beams glowing with an amber sheen exude the fragrance of oil from tung trees. The oil is locally harvested and applied in three coats to prevent damage from insects and moisture.

"These buildings can endure for centuries," Peng Shuzhen noted. Each September after the harvest, villagers collectively reapply the oil, a tradition essential to every household. Beyond protecting their houses, surplus oil from the tung trees is sold to supplement a family's income, becoming a meaningful part of the local economy.

Common spiritual property

By mid-afternoon, the sound of drums echoes throughout Shuangfeng Village, drawing villagers to the Baishou Hall, an oval, black-toned, open-air structure. Its entrance is adorned with a carved couplet referencing four Tujia traditions: the hand-waving dance, the Maogusi dance, Daliuzi (a local musical instrument performance), and crying marriage songs (a melodic lament expressing a daughter's love for her family), among which the first three are recognized as national intangible cultural heritages.

As an iconic structure in a Tujia village, the hall features sweeping, upturned eaves and traditional post-and-lintel construction. Before it stretches a spacious plaza, providing ample room for communal gatherings and cultural activities.

Here, Peng steps into the center of the space, clears her throat, and begins singing a traditional song for the hand-waving dance.

One by one, villagers join her, their movements slow and deliberate as they squat low, step sideways, and swing their arms in unison. These 13 core movements, including "clearing fields," "planting seeds," and "weaving hemp," represent an entire agricultural calendar for Tujia villagers.

"From the late Qing Dynasty to now, our Baishou Hall has been rebuilt three times," Peng recalled, adding that the current one was completed in 2024. Every household contributed 200 tiles and those who couldn't afford tiles contributed through labor. "This tradition of collective effort, whether through money or labor, makes the hall our common spiritual property," she said, adding that the village boasts 96 households with a population of 272 people.

For centuries, this hall has been the village's soul: hosting sacrifices, festivals, discussions, and the annual Tujia New Year. "We celebrate one day earlier than the Han people, originally to see off Tujia soldiers resisting Japanese pirates," Peng explained.

During the Ming Dynasty, the central government sent troops, including Tujia soldiers, to fight against Japanese pirates who assaulted China's east coast for long.

When the troops departed, villagers prepared a feast in the hall, offering ancestral prayers before dancing.

Alongside the hand-waving dance, the hall preserves other Tujia treasures. There is the Maogusi dance, dubbed a "living fossil of human theater," during which men draped in straw mimic the Tujia's ancestral origins.

"It was once forbidden for girls to watch the Maogusi dance. Now we perform it for visitors from all over the world. That's what cultural heritage means. It's for sharing," Peng said.

Locals make Ciba, a traditional Chinese cake made from pressed sticky rice, in Shuangfeng Village.

Rural revival

This sharing has sparked a new chapter for Shuangfeng Village.

Over the past two years, tourism companies have started to move in, offering travelers immersive cultural experiences. Meanwhile, under the construction and financial support of local authorities, the road to the village has been expanded to six meters wide to accommodate tour buses.

For Peng Yalan, a 37-year-old villager who returned home as a young 21-year-old lady after working in cities, this has been transformative.

"I left to chase a different life, but I missed my family, the way the wooden houses felt like home, so I came back," she told the Global Times.

The tourism boom has revitalized the village economy. During peak season, Peng Yalan said the tourism company could host up to 80 groups and 3,000 visitors a day.

"Before tourism, young people fled to the cities. Now they are coming back, working as guides and performers. We can earn a living and honor our roots," Peng Yalan said.

Local villagers like Peng Yalan are blending tradition with innovation. Since 2022, she and two other locals have showcased Tujia culture on live-streams, gaining up to 100,000 views per broadcast and more than 20,000 followers. For Peng Yalan, the future is clear.

"We want more people to visit, to learn, to fall in love with our mountains and our stories. And we want more young people to come home because this is where our roots are, and roots grow strongest when nurtured."

As the sun dips below Jiulong Mountain, casting golden light over the stilted houses, Peng Yalan and her fellow performers rehearse in the Baishou Hall. Their shadows stretch across the floor, merging with the carvings and the echoes of drums. In this moment, the past and present seamlessly coexist: the mortise-and-tenon joints holding fast, the Tung oil scent lingering, the dances telling stories that span centuries.

As the last drumbeat fades into the mountain dusk, it leaves behind a resonance that promises this living heritage will flourish for generations to come.