As dusk falls, a small sign lights up at the entrance of a narrow front yard in Taipei's old town, where passersby usually pause to make out the ink-brushed calligraphy reading "Yin Lu" — or "Hidden Cottage".

Xin Yi-yun's lecture there on Chinese philosophy starts promptly at 7 pm every Thursday. The small hall, which seats about 30 people, is usually full, with mostly older attendees and a few younger ones scattered among them.

Since 2011, this philosophy course has come a long way, covering various schools from Taoism to Confucianism and the lesser-known School of Naturalists. Its location was moved to the humble apartment from the grand Taipei Zhongshan Hall, a heritage site where a ceremony to accept Japan's surrender after World War II was held in 1945.

"A person's basic understanding and awareness of their own culture is incredibly important, especially in today's world, where East and West collide," said Xin, a disciple of renowned historian and philosopher Qian Mu, when speaking about why he has been teaching Chinese classics for so many years outside campus.

Many of the attendees came to the class to resolve the fundamental question: "Who am I?"

"I'm not just here to take a philosophy class or acquire knowledge. I'm seeking an answer to a deeper life question," said Liang Zheng-yi who is in his early forties. He was once a student of Xin at the Taipei University of the Arts and now regularly attends the classes at Yin Lu.

"I began reflecting on this in college. As a musician, the techniques and materials I learned were from the West. So how can the things I create represent me? If we're talking about using Western methods with a Chinese foundation, then what is that 'Chinese foundation'?" he said.

At 33, Li Yi-peng found solace from internal conflicts through the class. Growing up with parents who had worked in the United States, he said he was influenced by the notion that "Chinese culture is outdated, and the West is better; you should listen to American pop music and watch American and European movies."

"I didn't want to be a person who felt disappointed in his own culture," he said. Learning from the wisdom of his ancestors helped him realize that "our cultural tradition is amazing. It addresses daily life issues practically, unites a nation's core spirit, and even answers the question of happiness."

Apart from Xin's philosophy course, calligrapher Chen Jun-guang also teaches at Yin Lu. Compared with Xin's course, the students in Chen's class range more widely in age, from a fifth-grader to a university student and a grandfather.

"Calligraphy class is like a door. Once you step through it, you encounter many other aspects of traditional culture," said Xie Yu-juan, an architect in Taipei.

In 2019, she and her classmates embarked on a "calligraphy journey" to the mainland, where they learned the traditional techniques of how to make paper, ink stones, ink, and brushes.

Chen, who lives in Pingtung in southern Taiwan, lamented that enthusiasm for learning calligraphy has greatly waned since his youth.

"In the past, the calligraphy club in a middle school would have more than 100 members; now, only a handful," he said.

Nonetheless, he believes that being a uniquely Chinese art form, calligraphy is deeply embedded in the cultural genes, waiting for the right conditions to sprout.