Zhang Yue shows off her complex dougong carving, a roof-support system of wooden brackets commonly found in traditional Chinese architecture, during the competition. Photo: Courtesy of National Cultural Heritage Administration
The air inside the 2025 National Cultural Heritage Skills Competition finals hums with tension. In the wood restoration category, Zhang Yue's hands steady a trembling chisel above a block of aged wood. Sweat trickles down her brows as she carves a complex
Dougong, an ancient system of wooden brackets that can support the overhanging roofs commonly found in traditional Chinese architecture.
Zhang, 19, is the youngest and the only woman in the category's competition held in Southwest China's Sichuan Province. Around her, the rhythmic rasp of saws and tap-tap-tapping of chisels comes predominantly from the weathered hands of men decades her senior.
Across the hall, another young woman, Wu Xiaojun, bends over a simulated excavation site in the finals of archaeological excavation category, her Luoyang shovel slicing through layers of soil.
A former police academy cadet, the 33-year-old Wu now works as a field archaeological staffer. Her tasks include theoretical examination, exploration and excavation of archeological finds.
Like Zhang, she's a rarity in the field and has become the only woman to win the national award in the category this year.
These two young women, though worlds apart in technique, share a common mission: To breathe new life into China's ancient past while shattering stereotypes. They are using passion, resilience and the power of youth to redefine tradition.
Prove herselfZhang's journey into the world of heritage restoration didn't begin in a classroom, but on a screen.
"When I was young, I watched the documentary Masters in the Forbidden City," she told the Global Times, her eyes lighting up.
"Li Yongge, the master restorer in the documentary, said something that stuck with me: 'Choose one thing, and do it for life.'"
However, the reality was far from romantic. In the early days, Zhang's arms ached from sawing, her hands were bruised by mallets and her lines never seemed to match the grain.
"I cried more than once," she admitted. "But I kept going. My master told me, 'A hand that has sawed 10,000 times will be steadier than the one that has sawed 9,000.' That confidence comes with time."
So she practiced and practiced. While others dropped out, Zhang stayed behind in the workshop, perfecting her dovetails, learning to read the wood's temperament, and mastering the ancient mortise-and-tenon joints that define traditional Chinese carpentry.
In a field steeped in tradition, she's unafraid to innovate. "People used to think women couldn't do this work because of the physical demands," she said. "But modern tools have leveled the playing field. And women bring something different: Attention to detail, patience, and an aesthetic sense."
Zhang is also fluent in digital tools, using 3D modeling and digital twins to simulate restoration processes before touching the actual artifact. "Technology doesn't replace tradition but protects it," she said.
The national competition was her crucible. Tasked with restoring a complex
Dougong bracket system, Zhang spent weeks preparing.
She and her mentor pored over ancient texts, experimented with different woods, and trained late into the night.
"Every part of my body except my mouth hurt," she joked.
During the competition, the workshop was a blur of sweat, sawdust and nerves. Veteran craftsmen worked with quiet intensity, their hands moving with decades of muscle memory.
Zhang kept pace, her focus unshakable. When the final piece slid into place, she didn't cheer. She cried.
"I didn't care about winning. I just wanted to prove to myself that I could do it," she said.
Though she didn't take home the top prize, Zhang earned something more valuable: Respect.
Judges praised her precision and composure. Fellow competitors, many twice her age, nodded in approval. And when master restorer Li Yongge - the same man who inspired her journey - told her, "Well done, young lady," she broke down in tears.
"Restoration is about allowing ancient objects to age with grace,"she learned.
Wu Xiaojun works at a simulated excavation site during the competition. Photo: Courtesy of National Cultural Heritage Administration
Earn respect
The participants not only show a clear trend toward youthfulness but also reflect the increasing diversity in the backgrounds of professionals entering the industry.
Wu stumbled into heritage work by chance. After failing to secure a police officer job, she joined a field archaeology training program and never looked back.
"I thought archaeology would be romantic. But it turns out that it's mostly mud, sweat and sunburn," Wu told the Global Times humorously.
But she stuck with it. Her police training gave her the physical stamina to endure long hikes and harsh conditions.
During a wind farm survey in Changzhi, North China's Shanxi Province, she trekked for two hours uphill daily, using her shovel to probe for ancient artifacts.
"The moment you unearth an artifact with your own hands, that feeling of touching history, of dialoguing with the past. It's irreplaceable," she said.
Wu sees distinct advantages in her femininity: Patience and a particular aptitude for the crucial, detail-oriented tasks of documentation and report writing where errors are costly.
Wu said it is her determination that helped her win the third prize national award in archaeological exploration - the only woman among the finalists.
"People always say women can't do this job," she said. "But I've earned their respect. They see me as someone with courage."
As China invests heavily in cultural heritage protection, Zhang and Li are part of a growing movement of young professionals reshaping the field.
Now, the two women dream of doing the job better and hope to make heritage more accessible to young people.
"Tradition needs a youthful voice," Zhang said. "I want to show that embroidery needles and chisels can coexist, and that a woman can wield both."