Li Meijing performs at the National Centre for the Performing Arts in September 2024. Photo: Courtesy of Li Meijing

At the center of the stage of an international dance competition, where countless eyes converge, Chinese ethnic dancer Li Meijing stands in a flowing ethnic Dai dress (the Dai is one of China's ethnic groups). As her solo performance Zitaoling comes to an end, waves of applause rise from the audience. 

"Ethnic Chinese dance carries the memory of generations, reflecting the rhythm and spirit of the communities it comes from," Li told the Global Times. "It draws from life, conveying the vastness of grasslands, the grace of river towns, and the strength of mountain people, all through the body."

Li has graced major national stages like the CCTV Mid-Autumn Gala, where she embodied the grace and strength of Chinese ethnic dance, leaving a lasting impression. 

Yet few know that behind this young dancer is the story of a small-town girl who left home alone, endured years of intense training, and overcame physical setbacks to get to where she is today.

Shaped by trials 

Li recalls that when she was just seven years old, the Shenyang Art School came to her hometown to recruit students. Out of dozens of children, she was the only one selected. That day, the little girl dragged her suitcase and stepped onto the path of formal artistic training - her journey in ethnic dance quietly set sail.

"At the time, I didn't know what my dream really was," she said. "I just knew I really loved to dance. And it was that love that eventually became my conviction."

After entering the school, she quickly learned what "hardship" truly meant. Training for over 10 hours a day became the norm. In her adolescence, she had to control her diet to maintain her form and often practiced late into the night to refine her technique. Her reflection in the studio mirror was always the last one to leave.

After finishing her middle school dance training, 13-year-old Li faced a daunting challenge: Applying to the Minzu University of China with barely any academic foundation. She had only six months to make up years of coursework. Many nights, she stayed up late, buried in textbooks. In the end, that persistence paid off, and she was admitted to the university of her dreams.

In her sophomore year, while preparing for the prestigious Taoli World Dance Competition, she suffered a severe injury, which saw her left kneecap dislocated. The doctor told her on the spot: "You may never be able to dance again." But she couldn't walk away from it all.

"I wrapped my knee in bandages and insisted on going on stage," she recalls. "Because I couldn't let go of the stage, nor everything I had endured and fought for over the years."

When the performance ended and she stood under the lights, a visceral conviction surged through her: "I was born for the stage."

Now, as a dance teacher at the Minzu University of China, she often shares this story with her students, not to dramatize her struggle, but to remind them that art is not about showcasing talent. It is about forging oneself, day after day, through persistence and pain.

Li Meijing in her performance costume

 Redefining 'excellence'

Chinese ethnic dance, through its movements, vividly reflects the customs and lifestyles of different ethnic groups, while also showcasing their unique cultural identities, according to the Modern College of Northwest University.

As a Chinese ethnic dancer, Li was ranked at the top of the "China's Top Dancers Training Program" hosted by the Chinese Dancers Association, and was named a "Top Dancer" for three consecutive years by 2023. While the public often praises her as a "naturally gifted performer," she doesn't see herself that way.

"True excellence has never been about technical perfection," she said. "It's about how deeply you understand your own culture, and how you use your body to interpret the physical language rooted in our collective memory."

Li's solo Dai dance Spring Awakens is a case in point: It draws from traditional movements like the Dai people's signature "three bends," while incorporating the physical expressiveness of contemporary dance. 

"For ethnic dance to truly resonate with young people, it must remain rooted in its cultural origins while also daring to 'grow new shoots.'" 

Just like herself, she continually blends contemporary language into her choreography, using multimedia and creative short videos to convey the cultural context behind each movement - helping young audiences not only understand it, but truly see it.

In the recent past, from Strasbourg to Sochi, from Heidelberg in Germany to Panama, Li has brought Chinese ethnic dance to the world stage. International audiences are often amazed that a single country can nurture such a diverse dance system, and they deeply admire Chinese dancers' ability to accurately interpret the distinct styles of different ethnic groups.

"What moves them is not just the choreography, but the culture and stories behind each gesture," she says.

Li recalls one performance where she expressed deep emotion through a spinning movement from a Uygur dance. After the show, a French audience member, with tears in his eyes, told her, "I don't understand the lyrics, but I can feel you telling a story about hope."

"This is the purest power of dance: It transcends language and touches the heart directly," she noted.