In multi-ethnic Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region, dance is a lingua franca. A carpet, a speaker and an open space are enough to set the stage. Regardless of gender or age, once there is a rhythm, the dance begins.

Such gatherings are common even in the snowy season in Taxkorgan Tajik Autonomous County, on the eastern foothills of the Pamir Plateau.

Sunset comes a bit late in Xinjiang, the westernmost region in China. At 9 p.m., at a hotel in the heart of the county, the festivities are just about to begin. The hostess, a young lady named Gulinama Ailaiti, begins by showing some traditional hats and clothing, introducing the guests to Taxkorgan's rich folk customs and the county's modern developments.

She then proceeds to explain the Tajik people's traditional methods of greeting -- kissing the hands and cheeks -- which visitors may find useful in their initial contacts with strangers. After a brief demonstration, the guests eagerly mimic the gestures, turning awkwardness into laughter.

As the sound of the eagle flute fills the air, young hotel employees take the lead in lifting the atmosphere with a performance of the eagle dance.

To the local people, the eagle symbolizes honesty, kindness, bravery and strength. Folk songs and stories about the bird of prey are shared widely among the Tajik people. The eagle flute is a musical instrument fashioned from the wing bone of an eagle, and has a history of over 1,600 years. The eagle dance, meanwhile, is a listed item of national intangible cultural heritage.

Dilbar Jabil and his colleagues from the hotel's housekeeping department gracefully extend their arms and sway to the rhythm, imitating a swooping eagle. Suddenly, they alter their posture -- heads held high, chests out -- as if the eagle is soaring into the clouds.

The tourists are astonished by the mesmerizing performance. Some pull out their phones to capture the moment, while others, unable to contain their excitement, join in the dance.

As more people join, Gulinama Ailaiti swiftly switches the music to "Meshrep," a typical style of dance representing the unique culture of the Uygur ethnic group.

"The locals are warm and simple. Compared to performances in bars, this kind of dance party is more lively," said Li Peiyuan, a first-time visitor who traveled nearly 5,000 kilometers to Xinjiang from Hangzhou in east China.

The originally 40-minute dance has been extended to over two hours. Li enjoyed every minute, joining the fray excitedly.

By contrast, Dang Jianzhou, who has been engaging in the tourism sector in Taxkorgan for half a year, danced with a more relaxed demeanor.

"The place where we're dancing is in the style of Taxkorgan's traditional dwellings," Dang said.

Noting that the county's rich cultural and tourism resources have provided tremendous opportunities, he said the hotel where he works has even hosted tourists from Singapore, Indonesia and Malaysia.

Taxkorgan boasts stunning plateau scenery, profound historical and cultural heritage, and rich folk customs, making it an attractive tourist destination. Data from the county's cultural and tourism department shows that the county welcomed 1.36 million visitors in 2023, and the number increased to 1.92 million in 2024, with about 80 percent coming from outside Xinjiang. By the end of 2024, the county had 91 hotels and 602 guesthouses, more than half opened within the past two years.

Now, strolling on the streets of Taxkorgan, tourists are presented with an abundant choice of delicacies: cuisine from across China, Western fast food and Pakistani delicacies. The booming tourism has also given young locals more options in life.

Abdulaziz Mamut, 29, dances with a shy smile beneath a cap. The graduate from the Xinjiang Agricultural Vocational and Technical University now works at a hotel's catering department.

The journey from Abdulaziz Mamut's home in Reskam Village to the county takes four to five hours over mountain roads, which are covered in snow and ice all year round. "Compared to my school days, the asphalt roads and tunnels have made the journey much easier," he said.

As the night deepens, the guests' spirits remain undiminished. At last, Gulinama Ailaiti reluctantly turns off the music, and everyone -- both hosts and visitors -- agrees to gather again on the morrow.