He cross-talks in the evenings, Wednesday to Friday and on Saturday afternoons. He is also in a TV series, works on a new program late into the night, sleeps for just three to four hours a night and is ready to give up even that if shooting at night. His spare time, if any, is spent reading.

Gao Xiaopan (left) and his partner during a cross-talk performance . File photo

Gao Xiaopan, leader of Xiha Baofupu (Xiha for short), a prominent cross-talk group in Beijing, rarely has any time to spare. In less than a year since it came into being, the group has turned cross-talk, a Chinese traditional oral art dating back to the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911), into a way of life among youngsters.

"Honestly, sometimes I want to shed some work," Gao says. "But I know that my presence, which the audience is familiar with, ensures our group's constant development."

The 24-year-old became a cross-talk apprentice at the tender age of eight. After being with different cross-talk groups for a while, Gao considered adding new elements to an old art and gathered more than 10 actors to form Xiha on May 16, last year.

They performed in Guangming Ge, a traditional two-storied Chinese tea-house on West Gulou Street, which can seat around 220 people.

The beginning was not particularly impressive. Each member earned only 27 yuan ($3.94) in the first month. One evening there were just two people in the audience.

Gradually, they came swarming in, to see an old art made anew by youngsters born in the 1980s. Tickets, priced at a reasonable 20 yuan, sold out a week ahead of the show. Wooden tables, chairs, steps, strings of lanterns, old photos and a big fu character illustrating booming fortune - the interiors of Guangming Ge are as traditional as they can get. But a rap number before the show starts, popcorn and carbonated drinks add a trendy young feel to it.

The Internet is used for publicity. The group has its own BBS, website and six QQ (a popular Chinese online chatting application) groups. The audience is of roughly the same age as the performers. Occasionally, a few salt-and-pepper-haired seniors pop in. Sometimes, parents bring along children. There is also a tourist inflow.

After graduating from The National Academy of Chinese Theater Arts, Gao held a day job and performed in the evenings. He worked as a department store attendant and a painter in a crafts shop, and lived on just four steamed loaves of bread for a whole week. He even sold used bottles to raise money.

"Every man is the architect of his own fortune," Gao keeps telling his group. People would leave in the first several months, unable to cope with the teething problems. "They thought I was too idealistic," smiles Gao. Once his girlfriend got so exasperated that she cut Gao's costumes into pieces and made a mop.