On Leijia Mountain, 956 meters above sea level, Xu Lihui rises before dawn. The path up is steep, 20 minutes at a quick pace, half an hour at a leisurely stroll.
At the top of the mountain sits Huangzhong Temple, a Taoist retreat amid Zhangjiajie's mountainous landscape, Hunan province.
Now, more than 10,000 people ascend the mountain every year to practice jingang changshou gong (vajra longevity) — a set of eight exercises passed down through generations — to rehabilitate the body.
They come from across China and abroad, including Russia, Germany, the United States, Canada, France, and Malaysia, Xu has observed over the years.
"They are not merely tourists; they come here to 'correct their form' and for the slower pace of life," she says.
Xu was 14 when she studied with Master Zhang Zhishun, who had gathered his followers to teach the exercises in the early 1990s.
When they returned to Zhangjiajie in 2012,Zhang was in his 100s and wanted to find a place, a small temple, where he could live his last days quietly. They looked at several places. Then there was Leijia Mountain.
After Zhang passed away in 2015, Xu led other disciples to continue his legacy and gradually expanded the area, paving the mountain roads leading up to it.
Visitors who make the climb enter another world. They stay in simple dormitories. They wake before sunrise and practice the exercises. Then, they work the land, planting vegetables, cutting firewood, and grinding tofu from the mountain's spring water.
"A day without work is a day without food. They eat what they grow. No meat. No alcohol. No television. No distractions," Xu says.
For many, the experience is transformative. Some arrive with depression or anxiety, or with bodies worn down by modern life, she observes. "After three days of practice and labor, they generally smile more, and some don't want to leave."
Xu remembers one Russian man who came in 2015 with his wife and baby. His Chinese was poor, so he didn't ask questions. "He just watched and practiced quietly with us. Last year, he returned," she says with surprise.
Over the years, many such guests have left their impression on Xu.
She also vividly remembers a Malaysian Chinese who had lived abroad for decades and returned specifically to learn the exercises, then later brought friends. Another British Chinese man spent months tracing Master Zhang's footsteps across the country, including Shandong and Hainan provinces, before arriving at Huangzhong Temple.
Xu finds that many international guests love the traditional culture and feel "something here that they cannot find elsewhere."
In 2023, jingang changshou gong was added to Hunan's intangible cultural heritage list. Xu was happy when she received the certificate: "This was my master's wish. He wanted more people to know these exercises and thus preserve them."
Huangzhong Temple is not the only place in Zhangjiajie where visitors can step off the tourist trail and into something more personal.
Across the region, in villages and valleys tucked between the famous peaks, other experiences await, offering more ways to appreciate these mountains.
About an hour's drive down the mountain, in Wayaogang village, Qu Shuangquan walks through his guest property, checking that the housekeepers have everything ready.
These days, most of his guests come from abroad and find their way to this village at the foot of the mountains, booking rooms from 2,000 yuan ($293) to more than 10,000 yuan a night, and stay for days.
"When the visa-free policy expanded last year, international guests started coming," Qu notes. He is proud that many international guests return more than once and leave him raving reviews.
From the road, the buildings look modest — stone walls, dark wood, and sloped roofs of traditional Tujia ethnic architecture. Nothing flashy. But step inside, the quality is revealed. Qu used no new timber in the construction. Every beam and plank came from old demolished houses elsewhere — hardwood that had already aged decades, even centuries. "Old wood has texture. It feels heavy and real," Qu says.
He and the craftsmen had a four-meter bench carved from a single beam, and stone walls assembled piece by piece from river rocks, fitting them together like puzzle pieces. "Nothing is mass-produced, and nothing was rushed," he emphasizes.
Guests wander through rice fields, sit by the stream, and eat vegetables grown on-site. Pork is sourced from local farmers and tofu is freshly made from beans ground in the village.
