Ambush from Ten Sides

Tradition is beautiful.

Truly, tradition is beautiful.

Origin

At the end of June, in the ancient city of Tainan,

a groundbreaking Chinese music theater production unfolded—

set upon the historic grounds of Yìzài Jīnchéng Fortress and Èrkūnshēn Battery.

Multiple performance troupes and artists joined hands,

weaving together blazing fire-dance, stirring silk-and-bamboo music,

dance, physical theater, acrobatics, and interactive technology—

to create a one-of-a-kind 360-degree immersive epic musical battlefield.

This production reimagined the legendary tale of Liu Bang, Xiang Yu, and Yu Ji—

a saga of war and tragic love from over two millennia ago.

Over two nights, nearly five thousand audience members gathered to witness its unfolding.

The profound beauty of traditional Chinese instruments

was reborn through the prism of modern stagecraft and visual artistry,

eliciting wonder, applause, and tears from all who attended.

One audience member wrote with heartfelt gratitude:

“I was swept away by the music—so full of passion! The acrobatics blended into the narrative seamlessly, and the fast-paced rhythm left me breathless. The unique acoustics of Yìzài Fortress were masterfully utilized, merging with cutting-edge technology and professional production to create a world-class performance. I am still moved. Thank you to the entire team behind Ambush from Ten Sides—perfection!”

A Decade Later – The Stage Returns

“The essence of the 2015 Ambush from Ten Sides was its union with place. It was the site itself that gave birth to this year’s rendition.” — Huang Cheng-Ming, Artistic Director of Chai Found Music Workshop & Producer of Ambush from Ten Sides

This production broke several records for a single traditional Chinese music performance in Taiwan:

Nearly 5,000 audience members,

tickets priced as high as NT$1,000—uncommon for southern Taiwan,

and over 20 tour buses arriving from across the island.

It became a moment of nationwide resonance.

With nearly 200 artists and crew on and off stage,

this was not merely a performance,

but a powerful act of unity within Taiwan’s performing arts world.

Yi-Jun Chang—stage director and the actor portraying Xiang Yu—shared:

“What we wanted to express was simple: Taiwan is capable of producing outstanding performances.”

A former dancer with Cirque du Soleil,

he often observed how Taiwanese audiences favor international shows.

“But with so many brilliant local artists and troupes, isn’t it time we built a brand of our own?”

This production was a tapestry of creative crossings:

from traditional Chinese music to fire dance,

from ancient forts to modern rock,

from classical form to interactive digital art—

a dialogue across genres and time,

woven into a rare, radiant celebration of what Taiwanese performance can become.

Speaking of the origin of the 2015 Ambush from Ten Sides

Yi-Jun recalls the unforgettable impact of seeing the Chai Found Music Workshop’s performance a decade earlier:

“A teacher strongly urged me to see the final show... and I cried more than I applauded.”

As a performer himself,

he deeply understood the bodies and expressions of the musicians on stage.

“I couldn’t categorize what kind of performance it was— I only knew it was amazing. It shattered all the artistic frameworks I had known, and challenged my understanding of beauty. It taught me: beauty does not exist in a single form.”

Years later, upon returning to Taiwan,

he wandered and explored—

and when he arrived at Yìzài Jīnchéng in Tainan, he thought:

“If Ambush from Ten Sides is not performed here, where else could it possibly belong? It would be like the work finally coming home.”

So in November 2014,

he brought his vision to Artistic Director Huang Cheng-Ming,

thus bringing the 2015 Ambush from Ten Sides

to its full realization as the grand finale of the Tainan Arts Festival.

Modernity = Implosion = Breaking the Frame

A-Ming, director of Chai Found Music Workshop, reflected:

"Ambush from Ten Sides was originally a pipa solo.

In 2005, we expanded and reimagined it into the epic tale of the Chu-Han conflict—an interpretation rich with imagery."

Why such a transformation?

"Traditional music is profoundly beautiful.

Its details are saturated with layers of culture.

Yet many people remain unaware of its value.

For over a century, we’ve looked only westward."

As a huqin performer, he shared:

"I know deeply that the artist’s true enemy is never others—only oneself.

Unity and collaboration are essential.

I wanted to create a musical theater performance to express:

music is harmony, not competition; it is cooperation, not self-glorification."

Through composing Ambush from Ten Sides, he came to a deep insight:

"Liú Bāng was, in truth, just a street rogue. He wasn’t powerful alone.

What made him great was his team—he knew how to use people.

Xìang Yǔ was a hero, yes, but what use is a lone hero?

Even heroes meet tragic songs."

"Success in this world demands teamwork.

No one can change the world alone.

Only collective effort can create real impact."

The final act of

Ambush from Ten Sides

is “End of Karma.”

As the suona begins to wail, the entire audience rises to their feet—

a sea of tears flows both onstage and off.

The audience weeps, deeply moved; the performers weep as well,

for many of them had never known their hearts could offer such a revelation.

It was not a performance—it was a soul remembering its own fire.

“It was a magnificent concert!”

The 2015 performance of Ambush from Ten Sides once again stunned the audience.

Incorporating fire dancing into a historic fortress, asking musicians to walk on stilts—

as stage director, Zhang Yijun admitted,

“The pressure, the doubts, the fear... they were overwhelming.

I couldn’t find peace for days—one night, I nearly jumped into the canal…”

To preserve the historical site, not a single nail pierced the earth;

the entire stage was built through structural design alone.

This was a convergence of the performing arts, design world, and government agencies.

Each person carried their own views, their own rhythm.

Amid the friction, mistrust, and negotiation,

what emerged was something truly luminous:

as doubts transformed into trust, and suspicion into co-creation,

people’s awareness awakened—

and when awareness arises, beauty is born.

On the evening of the 27th, news of the Formosa Fun Coast explosion

hung like an unexploded shell over everyone’s hearts.

After the show, while dismantling the set,

I walked with a companion to bow before General Shen Baozhen’s statue and thank him for his protection.

Others we passed asked, “Where are you going?”

We said, “To thank General Shen.”

They quietly followed, joining us in silent gratitude.

No invitation, no command—just the pure will of awakened hearts.

That, to me, was the greatest joy:

when the human awareness opens, transformation happens.

At the post-performance signing session, Yijun chatted with the audience and discovered:

many came to Ambush from Ten Sides having never heard Chinese traditional music before.

“They said, ‘I never knew Chinese music could sound so good—so modern!’”

One of his Belgian friends attended as well.

“I asked him what he thought of the show, and he said,

‘This was a fantastic concert.’ I was overjoyed.”

Despite the integration of theatrical elements,

Master Huang’s music never became a backdrop.

“Music remained the soul—the most vital element.”

Close to 5,000 people attended over two nights—

a conservative number, really.

“There was a night I climbed the hillside and saw hundreds more

standing beyond the fortress moat, listening.

They didn’t have tickets—just stood outside, quietly taking it all in.”

Yijun reflected,

“This performance created an unexpected warmth—

it helped strangers discover a sense of familiarity,

a sense of home.”

A decade had passed since the last rendition,

and watching everyone—communicating, rehearsing, gathering—moved him deeply.

“So many people giving so much under such limited conditions…”

Ah-Ming shared,

“Every conflict, every resolution… it was all to fulfill one purpose—

to bring Ambush from Ten Sides to life, fully.”

“I saw Yijun in the distance,

cutting his hand while working with longan wood. I was moved.

I saw the boxed meals everyone shared—also moving.

The meals were donated, the water, the raincoats—donated.

Even Teacher Zheng’s costume was donated.

Why us? By what merit?”

His voice softened.

“These moments made me realize how small we are.

That this could even come into being—

was only thanks to countless once-in-a-lifetime encounters,

to unseen benefactors and the grace of fate.”

To Let the World See: “Tradition Is Beautiful”

The 2005 performance of Ambush from Ten Sides was a sweeping success—

a national tour across Taiwan,

boasting a 95% average ticket sales rate.

And yet, it lost money—because the production cost was simply too high.

This year, history repeats itself.

“We went over budget again. There was no way around it,”

they admitted.

“Yijun told me, ‘If we’re limited by funds, maybe we can cut down on lights, staff, sound equipment, skip the costumes, drop the projections and technology…’

But I said, ‘If we do that, we might as well not do it at all.’

This stage demands this many people. It deserves this much light and presence.”

Why did this year's production cost a full 8 million NT dollars?

“Because we refuse to let our audience see a version of tradition that is cheap, diminished, or dull.

We want them to see—that tradition is sacred, alive, and radiant.”

“To do it at all, is to do it well—even if it means losing money.”

This is the vow that Director A-Ming holds sacred.

In 2007, for the National Theater & Concert Hall’s 20th anniversary, CaiFeng was invited to stage two indoor performances of traditional Chinese music—with a 2.5 million NTD budget.

Later, a request came: “Could you add an outdoor show for promotion?”

A-Ming agreed—and called in a stage crew.

“How big do you want the stage?” they asked.

“The biggest in Taiwan,” he replied.

“Do you want a canopy?”

“Yes.”

“How many lights? What specs?”

“As many as rockstar Wu Bai uses.”

“Even his flaming wheels? His fireworks?”

“Yes. All of it.”

Just the stage setup alone cost the full 2.5 million.

That same year, the concert Eastern Legends: Rock Chinese Music broke records, drawing over 20,000 audience members and making front-page news.

“The 1,000 Huqin performance”—we rallied a thousand people across Taiwan, ages 6 to 93, to play Horse Racing and Beautiful Evening.

Our office overflowed daily with eager learners. “We taught them all for free.”

The production cost? 4 million NTD.

And yes—we lost money.

“But we never wanted the audience to see a poor, neglected tradition.

We wanted them to see:

Tradition is beautiful.”

“Tradition is beautiful. Truly beautiful.”

These words have become A-Ming’s gentle mantra—short and light as breath, but as profound and weighty as a master’s slow Tai Chi gesture, shifting the world with a fingertip.

He has chosen to lose money, time and again, simply to create good theater.

For years, he’s lived a life of racing to the bank before 3:30 each day—and still does to this day.

And yet, he says, “After all that I’ve done, I believe I’ve honored the mission my teacher entrusted to me.”

He remembers the words of his teacher:

“A-Ming, you can treat the huqin—traditional music—as a sideline.

You can make it a job, a craft, or a career.

But you can also make it your calling.”

“To carry forward the wisdom passed to me, to breathe new life into tradition, to help more people see and love the beauty of this music—this is my lifelong vow.

This is my sacred work.”

About two years ago, he left Chai Found Music Workshop to work at the Taiwan Chinese Orchestra.

“I had no money left. I needed to earn something, just to lessen the debt.”

But for the 2015 production of The Ambush from Ten Sides, he resigned on May 30.

“On my last day of work, I shaved my head to show my resolve—

No matter how hard this gets, I will see it through.”

His mother, unable to bear seeing her son carry so much weight, often chided him:

“Why do you keep doing this? It never makes money, you’re always losing money…”

But he said:

“Why do I push myself so hard? Because I believe this path leads us to a beautiful realm.

When we leave this world, we’ll enter a land of luminous glass and light.

And if we can move people, truly move them—then we will all go there together.”

A-Ming said:

“We are not just this version of ourselves, this one life.

There’s another ‘me’—the one who carries beauty,

the one who touches hearts.”

“Is tradition beautiful?”

Yes—profoundly so. Truly, deeply, and unmistakably beautiful.

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