Nonetheless, they aspire to their children mastering the instrument because of two things: They think playing piano inspires an interest in music in general and they see it as part of the path to becoming more accomplished, confident and cultured.

Wang Peng sees the music world differently. In high school, he wanted to play the John Denver song Country Roads so he built his own guitar. Twenty years later, he is still making stringed instruments, but his taste in music has changed. He has given up the guitar for crafting China's oldest stringed instrument, the guqin, or zither.

Although the guqin's origin is unknown, it was already popular among the literati in the early Qin Dynasty (221-206BC). By the late Han Dynasty (206BC-220AD), the guqin had evolved into its now familiar shape and form.

The instrument itself is symbolic of Chinese culture: Its length in Chinese feet is 3'6.5'', representing the 365 days of the year; it is made up of two parts - the rounded upper surface represents the sky and the flat base the earth; the original five strings (two were added later) represent the five elements - metal, wood, water, fire and earth; the 13 studs on the upper surface symbolize the 13 months in a Chinese lunar year.

The traditional guqin tablature is 1,500 years old and consists of precise character strokes that describe in detail the finger positions and plucking techniques. Ancient music books still exist with traditional songs for the instrument.

Throughout Chinese history, the guqin has been a symbol of high culture. It ranks first among the "four arts'' of Chinese scholars for personal leisure and self-cultivation, followed by the intricate game of go, painting and calligraphy.

In 1977, when the American spacecraft Voyager was launched, a CD of specially selected music from around the world was sent with it to the stars. One piece, called Liu Shui (Flowing Water), by guqin master Guan Pinghu, was included. In 2003 UNESCO declared the guqin part of the Heritage of Humanity.

These days many Chinese still ignore such rich elements of their culture, pursuing Western experiences instead.

"It is a shame,'' Wang says. "How can we ignore what we have in our blood?''

While studying traditional Chinese musical instruments at Shenyang Conservatory in the late 1980s, he learned to play on a guqin modeled on a Ming Dynasty design kept in the hands of a famous master, Gu Meigeng, from Sichuan.

After graduating in 1991, Wang worked at the Beijing Traditional Music Instrument Factory before moving into the wood sculpture business and taking advantage of China's increasing laissez faire attitude.

"Money can make people rich,'' he says of his brush with capitalism, "but it doesn't fulfill all your dreams.''

In the late 1990s, Wang started to make guqin on his own, strictly according to traditional methods. Up until then, such a pursuit was just a dream.

Making the instrument is complicated and takes more than two years. The wood must be carefully selected and the best, especially for the upper surface, is old tong wood dating to the Ming or Qing Dynasties. Wang travels to numerous places to buy timber columns and roof beams from old houses, which he will craft into something less prosaic.

After the instrument is shaped, multiple layers of raw lacquer mixed with deer horn powder are applied to protect the body. Some guqin makers choose to use modern lacquers mixed with roof tile powder to reduce costs and provide what appears to be a beautiful finish, but it is a finish that doesn't last.

The lacquer must dry but not too quickly so Wang has designed his own dehumidifier for curing his instruments.

The whole process takes about two months but it doesn't end there. Wang dries the instrument for a further 18 months, using only natural methods. He allows the wood and its lacquered surface to "communicate'' with each other until its layers become as hard as possible.

The body is then polished to a high gloss and after the strings are fastened, the new guqin is ready to play.

"But don't expect it to sound good,'' Wang says, "especially as good as an old one.''

As the instrument ages, snakeskin cracks appear on its surface. "These cracks don't hurt the instrument. On the contrary, the cracks not only make the guqin look more beautiful, they give it a better sound. The cracks loosen the tension, so the sound penetrates better through the wood and lacquer.''

Although Wang has found a way to make these cracks on his new guqin,

only a few sound as good as the older ones.

Wang now has his own workshop in Daxing, in the suburbs of southern Beijing, and a showroom inside the city. His workshop is called Jun Tian Fang, meaning Heavenly Music Workshop.

"The name was given by a professor in Beijing who bought a guqin here,'' says Wang.

"He liked the guqin's sound so much he thought I deserved such a name for my workshop.''

There are thought to be only about 2,000 guqin players and students in China and most cannot afford expensive instruments, especially young students.

Three years ago, Wang Peng's standard guqin cost 4,000 to 5,000 yuan (HK$3,800-$4,800). But today, Wang says, "my cheapest ones sell for 7,000 yuan.''

Although his instruments are more expensive than those from other manufacturers, his reputation and credibility continue to bring him customers. A guqin he made to look and sound old with its name Ting Yu, meaning "list-ening to the rain,'' inscribed on the back, sold for 50,000 yuan.

Wang doesn't expect such prices regularly. Although his best instruments sound as good as the old ones, regular guqin players in China simply can't afford them. Masters would rather wait to acquire truly old instruments at much higher prices. A few months ago, two famous Tang Dynasty instruments, Long Yin Hu Xiao and Jiu Xiao Huan Pei, set records at auctions in Beijing, selling for more than three million yuan.

Because he is so skilled, Wang is often asked by collectors to repair ancient guqin such as those made in the Tang, Ming and Qing Dynasties.

He has spent time and money promoting guqin culture and one day hopes to open a research institute dedicated to the instrument. Earlier this year, at a special concert in Vienna to celebrate Chinese New Year, Canadian-Chinese musician Qiao Shan performed with a guqin made by Wang.

In June he invited masters of the instrument to perform at a concert series in Beijing.

"No tickets were required,'' he says of the concerts. "Your interest is your ultimate pass.''

simon.song@singtaonewscorp.com