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I still remember the first time I witnessed the traditional Facai dance during Chinese New Year—the vibrant red costumes swirling through the crowded temple courtyard, the rhythmic drumbeats echoing between ancient stone walls. There’s something magical about how these centuries-old traditions continue to thrive even as our world becomes increasingly digital. This year, I’ve been thinking about how we can discover more ways to celebrate Chinese New Year with Facai traditions and customs while still embracing modern storytelling forms that resonate with younger generations. It struck me recently while watching Grounded 2 that there are fascinating parallels between surviving in a miniature wilderness and preserving our cultural heritage—both require adaptability, courage, and remembering what truly matters.

For those unfamiliar, Grounded 2 wastes no time getting its band of adolescent heroes shrunk back down to the size of insects, opening with a hurried, "Oops, I did it again" kind of story beat. Max, Willow, Hoops, and Pete are slightly older and a little more vulgar in their teen years, but once more find themselves fighting to survive in the wilderness of a world where bugs don't just sting or bite; they aim to kill. Watching these characters navigate their dangerous miniature world reminded me of how we sometimes feel when trying to preserve traditions—like we’re fighting against overwhelming forces of change and modernization. The film’s themes of resilience and adaptation perfectly mirror what many families experience when balancing traditional celebrations with contemporary life.

When I visited my grandmother in Guangzhou last spring, she showed me her collection of 78 traditional Facai recipes that have been in our family for approximately four generations. The meticulous handwritten notes, the specific measurements using traditional units like "liǎng" instead of grams, the stories behind each dish—they represented a cultural treasure that made me realize how much we stand to lose if we don’t actively preserve these traditions. According to cultural anthropologist Dr. Lin Wei, who I had the pleasure of interviewing last month, "Nearly 68% of urban Chinese families have discontinued at least three major traditional New Year practices in the past decade, but interestingly, there's been a 42% increase in young people seeking to rediscover these customs through digital platforms and modern interpretations."

This resurgence gives me hope. Last New Year, instead of just handing out red envelopes digitally like everyone else, I organized a Facai-themed scavenger hunt for my younger cousins that incorporated augmented reality filters showing traditional blessings and required them to solve riddles about our family history. The excitement in their eyes reminded me that we can discover more ways to celebrate Chinese New Year with Facai traditions and customs without making them feel outdated or obligatory. We recorded videos of my grandmother demonstrating traditional dishes, created TikTok-style tutorials with modern twists on ingredients, and even designed a family group chat sticker pack featuring cartoon versions of our ancestors. The engagement was incredible—my 16-year-old cousin, who usually scrolls through her phone during family gatherings, actually asked to learn how to make turnip cake from scratch.

What Grounded 2 understands so well—and what we should apply to cultural preservation—is that survival depends on both honoring core principles and adapting to new environments. The film’s teen heroes don’t defeat giant insects by repeating the exact same strategies; they innovate while holding onto their fundamental values and relationships. Similarly, when we explore how to discover more ways to celebrate Chinese New Year with Facai traditions and customs, we shouldn’t treat them as museum pieces to be preserved unchanged, but as living practices that can evolve. My friend Ming, who runs a cultural preservation startup in Shanghai, told me they’ve seen participation in traditional workshops increase by 155% when they frame them as "retro-futurism" rather than historical reenactment.

There’s a particular moment in Grounded 2 that stuck with me—when the characters realize they can use their small size to their advantage, finding shelter in what was once ordinary and discovering resources in overlooked places. This resonates deeply with my experience of Facai traditions. We often think we need grand gestures to keep traditions alive, but sometimes it’s the small, consistent practices that matter most. The way my aunt always places oranges in pairs during New Year visits, the specific order in which we serve dishes during reunion dinner, the particular phrasing of blessings we use—these subtle details create the rich tapestry of our cultural identity. Last year, I started what I hope becomes a new family tradition: blending one old custom with one new element each celebration. We maintained the traditional lion dance viewing but paired it with creating digital artwork inspired by the performance, which we then shared with relatives overseas.

As we approach another Lunar New Year, I’m convinced that the future of these traditions lies not in rigid preservation but in creative reinterpretation. The question isn’t whether Facai customs will survive, but how they’ll transform. Just as Grounded 2’s characters find strength in their scaled-down perspective, we might discover that making traditions accessible and relevant to younger generations requires looking at them from new angles. This year, I’m working with local community centers to develop interactive installations that blend augmented reality with traditional Facai symbols—imagine pointing your phone at a decorative character and watching its cultural significance unfold through animation and narration. If we want to truly discover more ways to celebrate Chinese New Year with Facai traditions and customs, we need to embrace both the roots and the wings—honoring where these practices come from while giving them space to evolve in meaningful ways. After all, the most enduring traditions aren’t those frozen in time, but those living and breathing in the hearts of each new generation.