Grabbing the reins

Over the years, Kong Linghai has found increasing security with his equine career, and is a rarity among his peers for holding a formal university degree.

"When a horse is acting up, a trained professional will understand the animal's nature and apply systematic knowledge to address the issue. Someone without that background might resort to harsher, more forceful methods," Kong said.

The details matter when it comes to teaching in a real setting such as parents worrying about their child's safety, he said.

Kong recalled one incident, when a mother thought the horse was too big and "wild" for her son. He didn't change the horse. Instead, he observed the boy's riding skills and concluded that the problem wasn't the horse's temperament, but how the youngster was handling the reins.

He taught the child to adjust his grip and timing. Soon, the boy went from barely controlling the horse to riding it with ease. The parents went from constant complaining to full acceptance. "That's what specialized knowledge can do," Kong said.

Wang Yonghao, who runs Mingyang Equestrian Club in Harbin, said, "Instructors with formal education are far more capable overall than those who learned on the job".

Riders from the Inner Mongolia or the Xinjiang Uygur autonomous regions may have excellent riding skills, but they often lack the theoretical foundation and broader competencies that a formal education provides, he added.

Wang also views his equestrian club as part of a broader shift in how equestrian sports are being marketed in China.

Before opening the club in November 2025, Wang spent years in the field of culture and tourism, running a trail-riding camp in the vast Hulunbuir grassland in the north of the Inner Mongolia autonomous region.

He noticed a recurring pattern where many young people wanted to learn to ride but were put off by the cost of traditional equestrian clubs.

"Under the conventional model, lessons are expensive. Many families and young adults simply can't afford the tuition, even if they're drawn to the lifestyle," Wang said.

He set out to create something between a full-service club and a tourist attraction.

Mingyang sits on a 50,000-square-meter plot about 20 to 30 kilometers from downtown Harbin. It combines riding lessons with trail rides, camping, fishing, a petting zoo, and photo shoots. The aim, Wang said, is to "make equestrian sports more accessible — less remote and exclusive — so ordinary people can enjoy".

A casual ride costs 70 to 80 yuan per hour, while a structured lesson for a child runs from 300 to 400 yuan. A crash course designed for beginners costs around 900 yuan for enough sessions to learn basic control to ride independently.

In Beijing or Shanghai, comparable training would cost two to three times as much.

Four months after opening, the club's popularity exceeded Wang's expectations. "On weekends and holidays, we're fully booked," he said.

With 19 horses and four full-time instructors, the club can handle about 40 to 50 riders a day, plus family members who accompany them. On busy days, around 200 people come through the gates.

"What we're seeing is a shift. Equestrian sports are moving from being an elite pursuit to something more mainstream," he added.

Wang said the way forward involves continuing to bridge the gap between elite equestrian culture and the broader public.

"In a city of about 10 million people, only a few clubs offer serious instructions. That tells you how much room there is to grow," he said.