Every Saturday night, a small theater called "Xigua," or "Watermelon," located in Yongqing Fang, century-old alleyways in the southern Chinese city of Guangzhou, and capable of seating an audience of about 80, is packed to the rafters.
Three or four stand-up comedians walk on stage one after another and tickle the funny bones of the audience in a 1.5-hour show. This would have been unthinkable just a few years ago.
"If you think what the performers say is funny, laugh out loud; but if it sucks, just heckle them with your applause," said a comedian surnamed Ji when warming up the audience at the beginning of a show.
With Ji having barely finished speaking these words, the whole arena burst into applause, cleverly playing along with the joke.
In the metropolis, which has precious few theaters for stand-up, there are no more than 20 shows a month, including in both Mandarin and Cantonese, with the ticket prices generally less than 100 yuan (14.5 U.S. dollars) per show.
"When we first started out, there was one time when we had only two people in the audience, but 10 comedians backstage," Ji told the audience during a break in the show.
By any measure, the ticket sales from the shows were not enough to support a single performer in a small theater. "So most of us are part-time performers," said Pi Qiu, a comedian and the head of a stand-up comedy club named "Douban" in Shenzhen.
Recently, he staged his stand-up routines on the latest season of "ROCK & ROAST," one of the most popular TV talk shows in China. "If I were known to a wider TV audience, maybe there would be more people to watch our live shows," he said, explaining his rationale behind performing on TV.
Li Dan, one of the most famous Chinese stand-up comics and a planner of the show, admitted in the program that though he is now well-known to the public through stand-up, this form of performance is still limited in China.
Stand-up comedy, which originated in Europe and North America, is quite young in China, with "open mic" shows first appearing in pubs in Beijing and Shanghai in 2009. Audiences in Guangdong came to it much earlier as it was first introduced to neighboring Hong Kong in 1990.
Dong Jiama, born in 1990 and deeply influenced by stand-up comedy in Cantonese, found besides entertainers, even ordinary people could perform stand-up when he read online about a show at a Guangdong club in 2014. Then, he began to perform onstage and started a stand-up club called "Banana" with his friends in 2015.
Though at first their audience, basically locals in Guangzhou, often posted numbers in the single digits, the industry gained more attention after a number of TV shows related to stand-up became popular in China in 2017.
Since then, their audience has steadily grown and now each of their formal performances can attract about 50 audience members on average. Sometimes, they will have people travel from other cities just to catch their show.
Meanwhile, their performance venues have moved from coffee shops, pubs and bookstores to a small theater, which is a more stable and formal venue for performing.
THE SHOW MUST GO ON
As one of the Banana club's founders, Fang Yu used to work for a well-known technology company in Shenzhen. His past work experience, workplace relationships and overtime work are all fodder for his jokes.
Such stand-up material based on reality has become hugely popular among young people in China. "All of our jokes come from our own lives and resonate with the audience. Only when you come to the club and participate in the interactions, can you feel its true charm," said Liang Xiwei, a comedian in the club.
With more and more Chinese people spending money on live entertainment amid booming development of the culture industry, Dong and his friends are looking for some bigger performance venues. To them, bigger audience means better performances and results instead of more stress.
Many stand-up comics like to prepare all-new material for each performance, and they see it as a minimum requirement for the mastery of their art. Though busy with formal performances now, members of the Banana club still hone their craft with peers from other local clubs to seek inspiration and continue to hold "open mic" events to try out new material before a live show.
However, in Dong's eyes, there remains considerable room for improvement in the country's stand-up industry. "To attract bigger audiences, we should localize our stand-up, which came from the West, in its contents, forms and even rhythms," he said.
Stand-up comedy attaches great importance to originality, but the protection of original works is not easy. The comedians must strike a difficult balance between promoting their shows via the Internet and risking having their jokes plagiarized.
"We welcome you to post pictures from the show online but no audio-visual recordings please," Ji begged the audience at the beginning of a show at the end of July.
Stand-up caters more to young people, most of whom are between the ages of 20 and 35, according to data from Pi Qiu's club.
Despite their struggles, even scattered laughter from audiences is enough to give the performers confidence to keep going. "After all, making people laugh is what it's all about," said Liang.