Li Mei was mid-sentence when she reached across the table, picked up what looked like a stick wrapped in tightly folded colored paper, and gave it a single twist.
It opened into a perfect sphere. Another twist, and three smaller orbs appeared. She kept going, each movement producing a new form: a flower, a crown, a lion's open mouth — one object, about 20 shapes. The routine took no more than a few seconds. Then she set it down and smiled, as if she already knew the reaction that would follow.
"Every time I demonstrate it, all it takes is one move, and people are stunned," she said. "They want to know how it works, and then they immediately want to try it themselves."
Li, 36, is a representative inheritor of the fanlihua-making technique, or paper-flipping flowers, a traditional Chinese paper handicraft. A former English teacher with more than a decade of classroom experience, she left teaching to help preserve the paper toy, which has a history of more than 300 years.
Her decision was not one dramatic leap, but a series of smaller turns that gradually brought her here.
Fanlihua originated in Beijing and spread across China over the centuries. But as Li learned more about the craft, she was surprised to discover that it had largely disappeared from its birthplace.
The tradition had survived, however, in her husband's family workshop in Shandong. Now an established brand called Zhuangyuan Workshop, it stands on the site of the former home of Song Dynasty scholar-official Chai Chengwu (934-1004). Students still come there to pray before exams, giving the name zhuangyuan — the top scholar in the imperial examination system — a meaning that remains alive today.
Li's father-in-law and his elder brother were the kind of craftsmen who could sit quietly for hours and devote themselves to a single task. That focus showed in every piece they made. But they were getting old — one in his mid-60s and the other in his mid-70s — and were ready to retire. If they did, the workers who had spent years in the workshop would be left with nothing.
"The materials are just paper and sticks, but what you can make with them is beautiful to look at and fun to play with," Li said. "Letting something like that disappear would be such a waste."
In 2023, she brought fanlihua to a Beijing temple fair to test the response. Many visitors were surprised to see a toy from their childhood making a comeback, and they were eager to show their own children how to play with it.
The older generation recognized it; the younger generation still found it fun. For Li, that was the proof she needed.
Since then, the work has become a two-place operation. The Shandong workshop handles production: cutting, binding, dyeing and preparing parts in advance so orders can be filled quickly. From Beijing, Li manages much of the rest: product development, custom commissions, community events and hands-on activities for visitors.
Her years in the classroom, as it turned out, had prepared her better than she first realized.
"The logic is the same," she said."First, you capture their attention, explain what it is and why it matters. Then you do it together."
