Gordon Tso and Song style xingyiquan

Alex Kozma, the distinguished martial arts teacher and author, has produced a great interview with Gordon Tso, a Hong Kong-based teacher of Song style xingyiquan, in which Gordon talks about the history and practice of the style, how he came to learn xingyiquan, and also features several great training snippets with Gordon’s teacher GM Song Guanghua, as well as M Song Baogui (Song Guanghua’s son) and M Zhao Chuanhui, son of the famous Song style teacher Zhao Yongchang.

For anyone interested in Song style xingyiquan, this is a great introduction to the art:

Flying Monk talk show – Gordon Tso and Song style xingyi

In the interests of full disclosure I should probably point out that I am not exactly an independent party – Song Guanghua is my shiye, which makes Gordon my kungfu uncle!

For me personally it is great to see shiye in the familiar Song family courtyard in Taigu which I have visited several times, I hope he and his family members can carry on the art for many more years to come.

I understand that Alex is now training a group of students in Song style xingyi in the UK, so am happy to provide Alex’s contact details by PM if any UK or Europe based readers would like to check it out for themselves.




Posted in Shanxi xingyiquan, Song style xingyiquan, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

The Plateau Effect (or the Value of Aimless Practice)

I realize I have not updated my blog in a while – as usual, it has been a case of life getting in the way, and also not having many new insights to share!

As I will be leaving China in a few months’ time, I have been trying to make the most of the time I have left by learning as much as I can, as in future my opportunities for returning to the mainland for any extended period of time will be very limited. One of the unintended positive consequences of my imminent departure is that my xingyiquan shifu (Dai Xueqi) seems to feel the urgency as much or even more so than I do, and has decided to teach me certain forms / content which I guess he had previously thought I was not ready for, for which I am very very grateful.

During this process, I have had two realizations recently which I wanted to share, to see whether other fellow readers have had similar experiences.

The first one is what I call “the Plateau effect”. Oftentimes when we are practicing martial arts, it is very easy to slip into a rut – practicing the same forms or exercises in the same way. This can go on for days, weeks or even months, with the feeling that actually you are not making any improvement at all, or sometimes even going backwards. In my case, I had a period of maybe 3-4 months of practicing different variations of basic fajin / footwork exercises, Xingyi’s 5 fists plus the linking fist (wuxing jintui lianhuan) set, without feeling that I was improving. However, from comments from both my shifu and some of his shixiong (i.e. my kungfu uncles), they feel that I have been improving, in my ability to relax the upper body, leading to improvement in the quality of fajin, starting to get what is called Dou Jue Jin (‘shaking power’) in Song style. Also in testing moves/applications against my shixiong (kungfu brothers), they have said that I am starting to get the penetrating power (chuan tou li) that is another characteristic of xingyi as a whole. This just goes to show that your own assessment of where you are in your practice can sometimes be out of whack, and the best is to get feedback from your teacher / kungfu brothers, who have probably gone through the same stages before.

The second point is the value of aimless practice. This may seem counter-intuitive – how can you improve at something if you are not deliberately focusing on practicing that one area? However, in reality the situation is more complicated than that – in Chinese martial arts, often times what we are trying to improve is the ‘quality’ of our movement, which is a whole mix of things, including awareness, relaxation under pressure, ‘aliveness’ of the body, etc etc. What I have found through my own practice is that sometimes “aimless” practice – i.e. trying to link together moves spontaneously as a reaction to imagined attacks, seeing what comes out – is actually a very useful method for changing what we practice from ‘dead’ forms (si taolu) into an “alive” practice (ba quan lian huo), which is one of the keys to being able to actually use your art. This ties in nicely with something which my xingyi shifu said to me in the early days of studying with him: “In xingyiquan, the forms are not fixed in stone, they are just a particular collection of techniques – once you have mastered the individual movements [dan cao], I expect you all to be able to put together your own forms!”.

Would very much like to hear from any blog readers who have had similar experiences, and how you got through the plateau!

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The Hollowing Out of CMA

The longer one stays involved in martial arts, the more obvious it becomes that certain arts / lines / groups have a serious case of “The Emperor’s New Clothes”. The phenomenon I’m referring to is where a comprehensive, usable fighting art gets degraded as it passes through the generations, until all that is left is an empty dance, a husk masquerading as a martial art.

In the description that follows I will deliberately avoid mentioning specific arts, as my intention is not to start a flame war. What I want to discuss in this blog post is a general trend in the world of CMA.

Generally what we see in Chinese martial arts (CMA) and possibly Japanese MA (JMA) as well – although I don’t have enough experience with JMA to make that call – is that during the heyday of the art, which for a lot of CMA was the late Qing dynasty, the art was practical,  comprehensive (including conditioning, applications, sparring, neigong, etc), and training was with a view to actually using the art. This applies to several famous CMA that we can think of, such as taiji, xingyi, bagua, baji, etc.

Then, with the passage with time, various historical and personal factors conspired to dilute the art:

  1. Withholding the Art:

Certainly in the older generation of teachers it was not uncommon for teachers to withhold certain key aspects of the art such as neigong. In extreme cases, this meant that that material may be lost from that line altogether. Controversial examples would be the 24 neigong set in Wu style taiji, or the 72 kicks set in Jiang Rongqiao bagua.

  1. Selective Teaching / Favouritism:

Historically, for most TCMA in most places in China, the majority of the real teaching did not take place in formal classes but in small gatherings in parks or at the teacher’s house, or even one-on-one. The result of this is that it is / was common for teachers to be very selective about what materials were taught to certain students. In the xingyi that I practice I know for sure that there are portions of the art that are held very close to the chest and are not demonstrated in public, and I’m sure this is the same for my friends studying other traditional CMA.

  1. Cultural Revolution:

The damage wrought by the Cultural Revolution to CMA in China cannot be overestimated. Many famous taiji masters, such as Wang Peisheng, Yang Chengfu’s disciple Cui Yishi, Chen Xiaowang’s father Chen Zhaoxu etc were all struggled against. On the xingyi side masters like Zhu Guofu, Zheng Huaixian (Sun style), and Liu Molin (famous Hebei style master in Shanghai) were all targets of public struggle sessions. The word in Shanghai kungfu circles is that in the end Liu Molin could not stand the beatings and denunciations and committed suicide by jumping in the Huangpu river. Even if masters survived the Cultural Revolution, in most cases they were not allowed to teach and in certain examples were not even allowed to practice their arts. For example it is said that red guards were posted outside the house of Zheng Jun, the son of the famous Zhaobao taiji master Zheng Wuqing, to stop him from practicing!

  1. Chinese Political Environment

Even after the Cultural Revolution had passed and China started opening up, the Chinese government viewed the practice of real martial arts as at best a waste of time and at worst a threat to its control over its people. The teaching of fighting techniques in public was frowned upon, and even ostensibly less violent forms of practice such as stand-up wrestling received no government support.

  1. Commercialization of the Art / McDojo-isation

Separate to the trend of development of TCMA in China, other trends in the West also helped to further the dilution of the arts. Unlike China, the main way TCMA has spread in the West is through commercial schools (dojo / wuguan). This has the advantage that the art (hopefully) is taught in a more public, systematic way, but also has the associated downside that it can lead to creating a large pool of people who have only obtained a superficial understanding of the art, to the point where they may not have even learned the choreography of the main forms properly. If these people then go on to teach, the results can be imagined.

What is left at the end of this process is just a dance or form of calisthenics, fine for general exercise but devoid of any real martial substance, and not leading to any real fighting ability.

If you (like me) are studying TCMA not just for health but also with the genuine intention of at least being able to use what you have learnt, then you need to ask yourself:

  • Do I know the usage of these moves that I’m learning?
  • Can I actually use these moves under pressure?
  • In the system that I am learning, is there a systematic step-by-step training method that leads from training applications to controlled sparring to semi-realistic fighting conditions?

If the answers to all of those questions are yes, congratulations! You are on the right track 🙂

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Sifus Talking Smack

It is an unfortunate truth of the kungfu world that there is no necessary connection between how skilled someone is and the size of their ego. In general, my experience in the Chinese kungfu world has been that humble teachers actually tend to be in the minority.

Most Chinese traditional kungfu teachers I have met can be very dismissive about other styles and even teachers in their own branch, especially ones that they have only seen on video.

My own xingyi teacher frequently disparages the fighting ability of other teachers he has met from our style, and only has respect for a few of the teachers in his generation who he feels can really fight.

Another, perhaps more exaggerated example of this was with the taiji teacher I have recently started studying with, who I have mentioned in previous posts – Teacher Li. Teacher Li himself has very interesting skills, and apart from taiji has practiced several other arts such as shuai jiao, xinyi liuhe and bagua before settling on taiji as his main art. Generally he has respect for people he has crossed hands with or arts that he himself has trained in, but can often be quite scathing about other arts. Somehow we got into a conversation about a famous Yiquan teacher from Beijing who shall remain nameless.

Having seen a video of this teacher online, Teacher Li immediately started making unflattering remarks, such as “Look at his push hands with his students! They are giving him a framework [jian jia] to launch them with, I’d like to see him try that on me, he’d be 6 feet away before he knew it!”.

Normally I try to ignore comments like these, but having been on the receiving end of said Yiquan teacher’s attacks I made a feeble attempt to convince Teacher Li that the Yiquan teacher did have some real skill, but he was having none of it. The only result of that conversation was that Teacher Li spent the morning throwing me into the bushes near our training ground to prove the various ways in which to deal with the Yiquan teacher’s attacks!

In future I will know when to keep my mouth shut!

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I recently had an encounter with a teacher here in Shanghai which made me change the way I think about the IMA concepts of relaxation (song), sinking (chen) and peng jing (expanding force) – how to define them and what is possible with peng in particular.

To give a bit of background, I had been continuing my search for a push hands group that actually allowed the use of force, or could at least deal with force, as opposed to the ‘polite pushing’ normally found in Shanghai’s parks. Through an MA group in Shanghai I had met a guy online (who I shall call Wan) who had mentioned to me that if I was interested in push hands his teacher was quite good.

Naturally I was curious to see if the teacher had the kind of skills I had read about. However, due to various hiccups along the way it took 2-3 months before I finally got round to visiting the teacher in question (Jiang laoshi). According to Wan, Jiang laoshi was quite unusual in that he had studied at least 3 of the major styles of taiji (Yang / Chen / Hao) with direct students of some very famous teachers (e.g. Yang style from a student of Tian Zhaolin; Chen style from a student of Chen Zhaokui; etc).

I arranged to pay a visit to a local sports stadium, which was where Jiang laoshi normally taught at the weekends. So it was one morning that I found myself one Sunday morning at a sports centre on the outskirts of Shanghai. I was met by Wan, a friendly bespectacled young guy in his late 20s. After some twists and turns we reached a clear open space surrounded by trees which provided some shade, a perfect place for taiji practice. And lo and behold, a small group of students of varying ages were being instructed on the finer points of push hands by a short, skinny elderly gentleman who I (correctly as it turned out) assumed was Jiang laoshi.

As my previous experiences with teacher N (the shuai jiao teacher) had shown, in situations like these most Chinese teachers are very wary, as they are not sure whether the visitor has come to ti chang (lit. ‘kick school’ – issue a challenge) or actually to study, so it is common practice for the teacher just to acknowledge the visitor, maybe show them one or two things, and then leave them to get on with it.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that Jiang laoshi was very open, and we had a long, interesting conversation about the early history of Yang and Chen style in Shanghai, in particular how Chen Zhaokui’s xinjia came to be taught there. I later learned from Wan that it was very unusual for Jiang laoshi to be so chatty, and that normally it took several months before he opened up to students. After some brief introductions of my background, Jiang laoshi and his longtime student Li put me through some tests to see where I had gotten with my neijia practice. The tests were very similar to some “teacher tests” or single posture testing which can be found on the internet – where someone (A) assumes a posture and then B applies pressure to it from various angles, or where two opponents try to prevent being uprooted by the other.

Sad to say, they were disappointed to find that I had little ability to relax (song), sink (chen) or display integrated whole body power (peng jin / zheng jin) and were able to uproot and move me around easily. They both remarked that if I had not told them they would have barely thought that I had practiced any neijia before. Obviously, this was disheartening, but I reminded myself that you only improve by being shown your shortcomings / weaknesses.

Jiang laoshi and Li then proceeded to show me what they meant by these 3 concepts (song, peng and chen). Perhaps I have not been exposed to enough high level teachers, but I was amazed by some of the abilities of both Jiang and Li – I discuss some concrete examples below:

SONG (relaxation): Li was able to generate incredible power from his hands (grip strength), all the while stressing to me that his arms and shoulders were completely relaxed (song). He allowed me to feel his arms and shoulders with my hands, and I found to my surprise that they were almost completely relaxed – very difficult to detect any tension at all. He also showed several qinna methods which were extremely inventive and painful for the person on the receiving end – my wrist is still a little sore a week later!

PENG (expansive / integrated force): My previous understanding of peng was that it was a structural force based on maintaining a certain structure and alignment. However, both Jiang and Li demolished this idea, as they were able to exhibit peng in positions in which it seemed they were at a tremendous mechanical disadvantage. For example, Li demonstrated that he could allow me to push his arm to completely collapse against his chest (called ‘sealing’ in taiji, and which normally is described as a beginner’s error), and still have extremely strong peng force expanding out. Even in such disadvantageous situations, he seemed to have huge stores of power in reserve and was able to launch me away with little effort. To explain, he just said that peng does not rely on a fixed structure and what he had done was merely a demonstration of small circle vs large circle peng, something which I am still trying to puzzle over now.

CHEN (sinking): Jiang and Li also reinforced an idea which I had been mulling over for a while but had not seen put into practice until that point, namely that sinking in taiji has nothing to do with low stances. Jiang and Li were both able to withstand pushes from me (using all of my strength) without any discernible sinking into a stance – albeit that their knees were slightly bent. When asked about this, Li answered by saying “You are pushing up here [indicating his chest]. But my centre of gravity is still down here [pointing to his dantian], so of course it is easy for me to keep my balance. However, when I push you, your centre of gravity floats up into your chest, so of course it is easy for us to push you out.”

Jiang and Li then proceeded to teach some simple exercises and stances to try and help me get rid of the excess tension in my body, particularly the shoulders.

One other comment that Jiang laoshi made that has stuck with me is that the precise form you practice in taijiquan is not that important – the form is merely a vessel, the important stuff is what is inside. Without the elements I have mentioned above, then you cannot even be considered to have ‘entered the door’ of taiji. Jiang laoshi implements this in his own teaching – in terms of form, his students are free to choose whether to study Yang or Chen style form with him, to him there is not such a big difference in the goals and content of both. Certainly food for thought.

Needless to say, I will be continuing to visit Jiang laoshi in the future and hope to have breakthroughs to report.

Posted in chen style taijiquan, Yang style taiji | Tagged , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Wake-up call in the Chinese Jianghu

Several friends who have studied CMA in China have commented on the lack of a spirit of open sharing and exchange in the CMA world, particularly in China. Teachers from separate branches of the same style or even kungfu brothers (shixiong) who studied under the same teacher will openly bad-mouth each other to their students. There is also very little friendly exchange between schools, even of the same style. An all-too common scenario would be for a student to study style A (could be say Chen style taiji or tongbei or anything really) in one city, then to go to another city and try to find a teacher of the same style, only to be told he is doing it completely wrong and have to start from scratch.

Another common story amongst students of CMA, particularly the internals, is of getting into what appear to be friendly push hands / sparring contests which very quickly turn vicious, with the stranger trying at all costs to ‘win’, often by using techniques completely at odds with the stated format (e.g. using elbow strikes or head-butts in a push hands encounter).

The reasoning and thinking behind this mentality was brought home to me by a recent encounter with a teacher in the city where I am living. I have long been interested in Shuai Jiao (Chinese wrestling) and had been looking for a teacher ever since I moved to Shanghai a few years ago. Unfortunately, Shuai Jiao seems to be completely out of fashion in such a westernised city as Shanghai – what little wrestling there is is mostly judo. I had almost given up when I heard from a friend that there was a teacher (let’s call him Teacher N) still teaching Shuai Jiao at a park way out in the south-western suburbs of Shanghai. Intrigued, I made the one-hour plus journey one weekend to see for myself.

Upon arriving at the park, I immediately spotted Teacher N’s practice area located in a quiet corner of the park near a lake and was welcomed by one of his students who I had contacted previously. As that morning had been punctuated by intermittent rainstorms, the group of 6-7 students was practicing under the eaves of one of the pavilions that dotted the park. Teacher N himself was a heavy-set Shanghainese man in his late fifties – most unusually for men of his generation in China, he didn’t smoke. The students were a mix of adults in their late 20s and early 30s who seemed to have been studying for a while and some young boys who were just starting to learn the basics. Despite the group practicing in the park, there was an impressive assortment of supplementary training equipment on the benches besides the pavilion, including makeshift resistance bands, ropes, kettlebells and free weights.

The student who I had contacted (let’s call him Chen) introduced Teacher N as having been a champion wrestler in his youth and also apparently head coach of the Shanghai judo squad in the late 70s, which I was suitably impressed by. In addition to Shuai Jiao, he had also studied taijiquan and xingyiquan with some very reputable teachers. I then introduced myself, saying that I was very interested in learning shuai jiao and asked if it was OK just to watch the first time, to which Teacher N assented.

Over the next hour and a half we watched as his students ran through shuai jiao auxiliary training exercises (single movements designed to mimic various types of throws, footwork drills) as well as some 2-man work, including one which involved one side (Partner A) trying to shove the opponent (Partner B) backwards, while Partner B tried his best to make this difficult for Partner A through sinking of weight and body rotation. I was particularly impressed by two of the teacher’s long-time students, who although not very tall by Western standards exhibited the extremely ‘blocky’ physique which seems to be typical of long-time wrestlers.

During the whole time, I was of course asking some questions of the teacher. Perhaps I had not been respectful enough in my questioning, or Teacher N felt that I was doubting some of his explanations, or perhaps simply from learning that I practiced xingyiquan – for whatever reason, Teacher N must have decided that he needed to ‘teach me a lesson’. So he very politely invited me to ‘push hands’ with two of his more senior students. Having never seen anything beyond the gentle fixed push hands patterns in the parks, I was utterly unprepared for what came next, which was essentially me being roughly thrown from pillar to post around the pavilion at will by his students. My arms still bear the evidence of his students’ tender ministrations several days later. Saying my thanks to Teacher N and his students, I took my leave shortly afterwards.

The point of this story is not really that I got my ass handed to me by a couple of wrestlers – receiving some knocks is part and parcel of learning any martial art, especially something with such a focus on actual practice against resisting opponents as Shuai Jiao. What really opened my eyes to the ‘base state’ of CMA in China was what happened afterwards.

One thing any foreigner needs to realise if they are intending on learning kungfu in China is that the Traditional CMA community is actually very small. It seems like all of the TCMA teachers in a certain city talk to each other, and news travels fast. Within a few days of me visiting Teacher N, I received a phone call from my xingyiquan teacher (who teaches xingyi in a completely different part of Shanghai and as far as I know has no connections to Teacher N). Obviously, he had heard about my encounter with Teacher N from another teacher and was none too happy about it.

Shifu: “What were you thinking, going and challenging Teacher N? You’ve never even practiced push hands or shuai jiao!”

Me: “Shifu, I was not trying to challenge the teacher, I was honestly just there to observe and maybe learn something”

Shifu: “Young Xie [my Chinese name], if you are going to keep living here you need to learn not to be so naïve. That’s not how it appeared to Teacher N – he obviously thought you were a student from another school come to challenge them and do a sneak attack (tou xi). The whole thing with the invitation to push hands was just a set-up to teach you a lesson. In future if anyone asks you to ‘have a friendly exchange’, you must be merciless and not accept unless you are sure that you can win, otherwise it will reflect badly on our school.”

Me: “But [doing my best ‘why can’t we all just get along’ voice], why would he assume that? Why can’t there just be friendly exchanges between people from different schools?”

Shifu: “Young Xie, you still don’t understand. If you get badly injured in a contest with another school, I as your Shifu have to do something about it. This is not about you as an individual, this is about the face of our style!”

It was a real wake-up call for me and explains a lot about the typical behavior you see in Traditional CMA circles here in China: teachers guard the reputations of their schools jealously, and in their minds a single defeat can mean the loss of all of their students. As a result, teachers are very wary of accepting even friendly invitations to ‘cross hands’ or to show applications, and will generally go for the ‘nuclear option’ if there is the slightest suspicion the stranger / visitor has underhand intentions. Several friends who also study TCMA here have concurred with what my teacher said – this kind of thinking appears to be pretty common here in China.

Would love to hear from readers of this blog – has anyone had similar experiences?

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Beijing MA Trip – Liang style bagua of Zhang Xue’an

One of the pleasures if doing IMA is meeting other fellow enthusiasts who often have travelled hundreds or thousands of miles to study the arts at their source. On my previous visits to Tiantan I had noticed that the TCMA people seemed to be concentrated on the Western edge of the park, where there is a large area with both a concrete exercise area and also a large area of trees behind with the characteristic circles of bare earth around the trees which indicates a large group of baguazhang pracitioners train there.

I was hanging around this section of the park one weekend (I had actually come looking for people practicing Chen taiji) when I noticed 2 foreigners who looked to be practicing baguazhang / San Huang Pao Chui nearby. As it was very rare to see any foreigners practicing with them, I waited until they had finished training and then went over and introduced myself. It turned out the two guys were American, called Fritz and Joe. Joe’s main art was Capoeira but had practiced baguazhang for several years in the US before deciding to come to Beijing to learn from the source. Fritz’s main art was Chen taiji which he had studied from a disciple of one of the main Chen family standard bearers based in Seattle.

After the introductions, Fritz and Joe mentioned that they were studying Liang style baguazhang under a grand-student of Li Ziming in the same park later that morning, and offered to introduce me. Always interested to see quality orthodox IMA, I immediately agreed.

Fritz, Joe and me

Fritz, Joe and me

Shortly after arriving at their bagua training ground (a clearing under several trees at the back of the park – Tiantan is huge), their teacher M Zhang Xue’an arrived and gave us all a warm welcome. While Fritz and Joe were set to work on warm-ups and basic circle walking, M Zhang gave me a brief introduction to Liang style and how he came to learn the style. He had learnt Liang style baguazhang from Zhang Junmin (a disciple of Li Ziming) in the 1980s, and by that point had been practicing bagua for close to 30 years. He said that in his view, if you wanted to use bagua for fighting, the most important thing after the basic circle walking (Ding Shi Ba Zhang or fixed 8 palms) was to master and really learn how to use Liang style’s 64 hands (直趟64手, zhi tang 64 shou) set.

This 64 hands set has been written about extensively by both Tom Bisio (here: Tom Bisio’s write-up ) and Nigel Sutton in English in his book “The 64 Hands of Baguazhang” (64 Hands of Baguazhang). Suffice it to say that this linear set appears to have been created by the famous IMA master Liu Dekuan (who was not only a master of bagua, xingyi and taiji but also had a very strong foundation in Yue style Sanshou, aka Ba Fan Shou). The 64 hands appears to have mainly been based on his experience in Ba Fan Shou, but of course incorporating many bagua movements and techniques.

M Zhang demonstrating a 64 hands movement to Fritz

M Zhang demonstrating a 64 hands movement to Fritz

After Joe and Fritz had finished revising their 8 Old Palms and the portions of the 64 hands which they had learned, M Zhang began to teach and demonstrate the usage of one or two particular sets within the 64 hands (the 64 hands is actually split up into 8 ‘sets’ or small routines). I was immediately impressed by the practicality of the applications, as well as the power and speed demonstrated by M Zhang, who must have been in his mid-50s at least. The applications were full of extremely simple, practical strikes and locks on the opponent (I understand that Liang style also has separate sets training kicks and footwork, which are eventually incorporated into free fighting). Every action by Joe produced an instant counter from M Zhang, so that even if he tried to escape from the original lock / throw, he ended up in a disadvantageous position and had to ‘accept’ the lock or be hit with an elbow / fist / palmstrike.

M Zhang and Joe going over a 64 hands application

M Zhang and Joe going over a 64 hands application

M Zhang explained that once the 8 sets were learned in detail, one could practice them in pairs, break them out into individual move practiced (dan cao) and introduce changes and variations into the way they are practiced. All in all, it seemed like a very good ‘textbook’ for teaching students how to fight in a Liang style manner and a good bridge between forms practice and free fighting.

Unfortunately authentic Liang style does not seem to be very widespread even in China, with most of the good masters concentrated in Beijing and it is certainly very difficult to find internationally. If any readers have an opportunity to study this style or this set, I would heartily encourage them to jump at the chance!

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