Back in China’s Spring and Autumn Period, between the eighth and the fifth centuries B.C., a musician named Boya was alone in a forest plucking on a guqin, a seven-stringed zither, when a passing woodcutter named Ziqi stopped to listen. As Boya strummed the sound of clouds, Ziqi saw them billowing; when Boya conjured a waterfall, Ziqi saw it cascading.

Such was the sympathy between musician and audience that Ziqi could imagine whatever thought was in Boya’s heart from the sound of his guqin. After many years, when the woodcutter finally died, Boya knew that never again would someone so intuitively comprehend his music. So he picked up his instrument and smashed it, never to play again.

Although Boya is long gone, his musical successors have had ample occasion to share his angst. For much of the 20th century, the contemplative guqin — the favored instrument of Confucius — has lacked an understanding audience and been eclipsed by showier musical instruments, including Western imports like piano and violin. But, after decades in the shadows of China’s musical life, the guqin is making a comeback, riding a wave of renewed interest in the nation’s traditional culture and the government’s efforts to promote this.

“Many people are saying we should restore traditional Chinese culture,” said Zhao Jiazhen, a guqin master whose audience has included President Barack Obama. “Qin is the vector of this culture. It was played by many emperors and ancient poets. If you think about Chinese culture, you have to consider the qin.” (“Gu” means ancient, and the instrument is sometimes simply called “qin.”)