A 60-year-old man from Nanjing became the biggest trending topic on Weibo recently after news circulated that he had cross-dressed as a woman, lured 1,691 men into having sex with him, recorded the encounters, and then spread the videos online. It was suggested that he had exposed the men to HIV and infected at least eleven of them.

That particular story turned out to be inaccurate, but the real story behind the sensationalism was strange enough to pique the interest of countless netizens.

The actual case involves a much younger man: the 38-year-old Mr. Jiao who pretended to be a woman and arranged to hook up with many men, secretly recording the encounters and uploading the footage online.

Mr Jiao and screenshots of some of their videos.

The story first began circulating online in early July. It went viral across multiple Chinese social media platforms after local police arrested the man and publicly announced the case (likely also due to the rapid spread of sensationalized rumors).

This is what the police report of July 8 said:

Police notification

By now, the case has come to be known as the “Nanjing Old Guy Hong Incident” (南京红老头事件). In Chinese, “Hong” (红) means “red,” which is not only a color but also carries connotations of celebrity or notoriety in this context.

Jiao initially used the online nickname Ah Hong (阿红). This nickname soon evolved into “Nanjing Sister Hong” (南京红姐), but was later changed by netizens to “Nanjing Old Guy Hong” (南京红老头) after some argued it was inappropriate to refer to Jiao as a woman. Official media posts calling Jiao “Sister” received hundreds of angry reactions, with people demanding an end to the use of the female title.

Jiao had reportedly posed as a woman for a long time, using various social platforms—from WeChat and QQ to Momo—to find men to hook up with.

He wore women’s clothing, a long wig, used heavy white make-up, and also relied on beauty filters and voice-changing tools to appear and sound more feminine to the men he met online.

Since Jiao didn’t charge any money for these encounters, some of the men apparently thought it polite to bring gifts. Leaked footage shows visitors arriving at his apartment with small offerings—from fruit and milk to half-full bottles of cooking oil (how romantic).

Caption: “I’m dying of laughter — someone even brought half a jug of cooking oil from home. There were people bringing milk, fruits, even a pack of tissues — but the funniest thing is someone actually brought half a jug of cooking oil from their own kitchen! Hahaha. Tomorrow morning, when his wife cooks, she’s definitely going to wonder where the oil went.”

Jiao had secretly set up a hidden camera in the rooms to capture the sexual encounters, and later spread these online through online groups where participants had to pay a membership fee of 150 yuan (US$21) per person to join the group.

Some of Jiao’s victims reported him to the police after discovering that videos of their encounters were being circulated online—allegedly after they were recognized by others. By now, several men have been identified by people who know them, and one woman reportedly recognized her own husband in one of the videos.

The exact number of men Jiao met and filmed remains unknown. While authorities have dismissed the viral claim of over 1,600 men as exaggerated — a number reportedly mentioned by Jiao himself — they have not released an official count, and the investigation is still ongoing.

The videos have since spread widely online, showing Jiao engaging in various forms of sexual activity with different male partners, including oral and anal intercourse. While it’s unclear how many of the men initially believed he was a woman, it seems highly likely—if not inevitable—that many realized the truth at some point during the encounters.

Social media discussions around the case now touch on a range of issues, from privacy violations to gender identity and public health concerns.

 
🏛️ Legal Implications: From Violating Privacy to Endangering Public Health
 

First, the legal aspects of the case are drawing significant attention, with various lawyers and legal experts weighing in on what crimes Jiao may have committed. For now, he is under criminal detention for disseminating obscene materials—the production, distribution, and sale of sexually explicit content is illegal under Chinese law.

But Jiao also violated the privacy and portrait rights of others by sharing explicit videos that clearly show their faces without consent.

And what if Jiao is indeed HIV-positive and knowingly engaged in unprotected sex? According to Legal Daily (法治日报), he could then be charged with “endangering public safety through dangerous means” (“以危险方法危害公共安全罪”).

This offense carries a sentence of 3 to 10 years in prison if no serious harm occurs, but if it results in severe injury, death, or major damage, it could lead to life imprisonment or even the death penalty.

On the morning of July 8, a local CDC official confirmed that health authorities were now involved in the case. While Jiao’s health status is considered private, officials said they’ll share updates if and when it’s appropriate.

 
💥 Social Shock: Public Health and “Hole-Sexuals”
 

There has also been significant social shock over the story. The footage that’s been circulating online shows dozens of different men visiting Jiao — from student types and businessmen to men from all walks of life, including fitness trainers, married men, college athletes, and also young foreign men.

Many netizens expressed that the story changed the way they view the people around them. The men visiting Jiao were not some ‘basket of deplorables’ — they included wealthy older men, young and attractive guys, educated tech professionals. That realization unsettled many, shaking their worldview on multiple levels.

Although this triggered many jokes, it also raised uncomfortable questions not just about how little people may know their friends, neighbors, or even romantic partners—but also about public health. If Jiao did pose an HIV risk, it means these men—many of whom are married or have families—may have unknowingly brought that risk home with them after these unprotected encounters arranged online.

Chinese commentators and bloggers therefore tied the case to women’s sexual health, suggesting that a significant number of gynecological infections among married women are actually caused by their own husbands.

There were multiple online posts suggesting that the entire story reflected the sexual repression experienced by many Chinese men. Jiao, as a man himself, may have understood male psychology well — and was simply giving these men the emotional and physical attention they were lacking at a time when their sexual needs were not being met.

Some argued that such situations are a byproduct of the crackdown on KTV bars and massage parlors, hinting at the shrinking space for illegal prostitution in mainland China.

“Sometimes it really feels like heterosexuality is a joke,” blogger Chen Shishi (@陈折折) wrote: “These men are so filthy, and yet they go back and pretend to be good boyfriends, good husbands, good fathers, good men.”

She added: “As long as there’s a hole, they’re in.”

In doing so, Chen used the term 洞性恋 (dòngxìngliàn), a satirical play on the Chinese word for “homosexual” (同性恋, tóngxìngliàn, literally “same-sex love”).

By replacing the first character 同 (“same”) with 洞 (meaning “hole”), the term becomes “hole-sexual” instead of “homosexual,” mocking those men who sought out Jiao without caring what “she” looked like — or even whether she was secretly a man — as long as there was a “hole” to satisfy them. Recently, 洞性恋 (dòngxìngliàn) has been used a lot by Chinese netizens commenting on this case.

 
🛑 Politically Sensitive: Controlling the Narrative
 

Apart from the criminal charges Jiao may face, this story inevitably has some deeper layers that are politically sensitive and are therefore flattened and rewritten into safer territories.

Chinese well-known blogger Lu Shihan (@卢诗翰) recently commented on this issue on Weibo and Zhihu, critiquing how Chinese media and public discourse have framed this story. According to Lu, the narrative was intentionally shifted away from any discussion of a possibly trans, marginalized sex worker.

Lu suggests that censorship, social discomfort, and political sensitivity around class struggles and LGBTQ+ issues force both media and the public to stick to the safest possible framing.

That “safe narrative” is a comical and odd case about a ridiculous old man in a wig, crossdressing for his own fetish pleasure and spreading obscenity, scamming straight men into a sex scandal.

Acknowledging that many of the men may have known (or didn’t care) that “Nanjing Sister Hong” was biologically male would turn the incident into a conversation about queer identity and sexuality. And as Lu points out, that’s a no-go zone.

In his commentary on the issue, Lu Shihan mentions the story of another “Sister Hong” (红姐), an older street sex worker who became well-known in Shenzhen’s Sanhe district and even gained some online fame at a national level.

“Sanhe Sister Hong” came from a mountainous village and ran away as a teenager to work in the city. After being abused and abandoned, she fell into homelessness and eventually turned to sex work to survive in Sanhe, a place known for its lower-class young (post-1990) male day laborers who hop from job to job, self-precariously calling themselves the “great gods of Sanhe” (三和大神). In this environment, Sister Hong stood out not just as a sex worker but also as a vagabond woman, and she has almost reached cult-like status for some—she’s now known the legendary Sister Hong.

Sanhe Sister Hong.

“Nanjing Sister Hong” ultimately got that nickname because of the “Sanhe Sister Hong.”

Lu argues that around China, from Nanjing to Shenzhen to Guangdong, there are many “Sister Hongs,” and their vulnerable position, marginalization, and methods of income have to do with much deeper issues about gender and class struggles that go beyond some clueless straight men who just happen to stumble into their bedrooms.

On Chinese Q&A site Zhihu, some commenters are convinced that Jiao’s ‘customers’ were very well aware that he was not a woman — but that it is common to see men dressing up as women for a certain group of closeted men who feel more at ease in ambiguous, feminized encounters that don’t directly confront their own sexual identities. Also, for them, people like Sister Hong feel like safer territory.

 
🎭 Cultural Fascination: The Story of Shi Peipu
 

At the heart of this story also lies a deeper cultural fascination: the image of a male figure assuming a female persona to seduce other men — and the taboo topics that come with it. Cross-dressing has a long history in China, from traditional opera to contemporary media.

Some netizens — somewhat jokingly — compared “Sister Hong” (Jiao) to the case of Shi Peipu (时佩璞), a story that inspired the award-winning play M. Butterfly (1988) by David Hwang.

Shi Peipu (1938–2009) was a male Chinese opera singer who pretended to be a biological woman for over two decades. Shi Peipu worked for the Chinese secret service and was involved in what has been called one of the “strangest cases in international espionage.”

Shi Peipu

Shi Peipu was originally from Kunming and moved to Beijing in the 1960s. The then 26-year-old Shi met the French diplomat Bernard Bouriscot (布尔西, 1944) at a Christmas party in 1964, where Shi came dressed as a man.

Shi told Bouriscot that he was actually a female opera singer who had been forced by his father to present himself as a man because he desired a son so much. Bouriscot believed it, and their love affair took off — a romance that also continued when Bouriscot was stationed abroad.

For a period of twenty years, Shi pretended to be a woman during this ‘love relationship’ in order to gather intelligence information from Bouriscot.

Shi went to extreme measures to keep the Frenchman close to him, as ‘she’ even convinced Bouriscot that she had become pregnant with his child in 1965, just before the two would be apart for a long time. Shi adopted a boy from Xinjiang and presented him as their alleged child, which Bouriscot apparently believed.

Bouriscot and his son, who was actually adopted and not biologically his.

In 1982, Shi and Bouriscot moved to Paris, where they were both arrested a year later — Shi’s secret allegedly finally came to light when the CIA informed the French government that secret information from the French Embassy in China had leaked during the 1970s.

Even when the police burst into their home to arrest them, the Frenchman allegedly still believed Peipu was his wife and the mother of his child. It took a medical report for him to realize the truth.

Bouriscot attempted suicide when he discovered that Shi was actually a man. He was convicted of espionage — news that made it to the front pages in France — and both men were sentenced to six years in prison (although both got out earlier).

Front page of France Soir after Bouriscot and Shi Peipu were arrested on June 30, 1983, and later convicted.

Shi, who did not plead guilty to being a spy, passed away in Paris in 2009. About the affair, Bouriscot later said: “When I believed it, it was a beautiful story.”

Shi Peipu’s story has become one of those famous stories that is still discussed online and pops up every now and then — such as in the discussions talking about “Sister Hong.” Because the story is so bizarre, it is mostly discussed in certain frameworks that hardly challenge dominant ideas about gender and sexuality.

📌 So what’s the takeaway in the “Sister Hong” case? On the surface, it serves as a cautionary tale about meeting strangers online, and the potential nightmare of seeing yourself butt-naked on the internet.

But more deeply, the reason this case shook the Chinese internet is because it points to something much larger. It touches on issues that usually remain hidden beneath the surface. It reveals vulnerability on all sides.

The vulnerability of people like “Nanjing Sister Hong” — whether cross-dressing or identifying as transgender, they are operating outside the gender binary. As research by scholars like Eileen Yuk-ha Tsang shows, people in this position often face social stigma, family rejection, discrimination, severe depression, and abuse by their intimate partners (many of whom present as heterosexual men). While none of this excuses Jiao’s actions — secretly recording hundreds of men and exposing their faces and literal private parts online — it does shed light on some of the dynamics that may have pushed him into the darker corners of the internet.

There’s also the vulnerability of the men who were filmed — now watching their lives collapse as their identities are exposed to the public.

And then there’s the vulnerability of the wives and partners at home — not only discovering their partners’ infidelity in the most public way possible, but also having to face the emotional and physical consequences it may carry for their own lives and health.

For now, the “Nanjing Sister Hong” case is already one of the most talked-about topics on Chinese social media this year — the source of endless memes and AI-generated parodies. The story has grown so large that people are even joking that Trump was one of his secret visitors (see AI meme).

There are even memes about the “Sister Hong starter kit” and others mocking the man who brought half a bottle of cooking oil.

Some joked that “Sister Hong” bears an uncanny resemblance to well-known Chinese political commentator Hu Xijin.

These jokes probably won’t help anyone much, but they’re an inevitable product of China’s meme machine. Still, they shine a bit of light on a topic of which many sides will inevitably remain in the dark for a long time to come.

By Manya Koetse

(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)

PS I mentioned Eileen Yuk-ha Tsang here as one of the scholars focusing on Chinese transgender sex workers. Coincidentally, her new book Unlocking the Red Closet: Gay Male Sex Workers in China is coming out on July 29.

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Wakuku is the most talked-about newcomer in China’s trend toy market. Besides its mischievous grin, what’s perhaps most noteworthy is how closely Wakuku follows the marketing success of Labubu. As the strongest new designer toy of 2025, Wakuku says a lot about China’s current creative economy — from youth-led consumer trends to hybrid business models.

As it is becoming increasingly clear that Chinese designer toy Labubu has basically conquered the world, it’s already time for the next made-in-China collectible toy to start trending on Chinese social media.

Now, the name that’s trending is Wakuku, a Chinese trend toy created by the Shenzhen-based company Letsvan.

In March 2025, a new panda-inspired Wakuku debuted at Miniso Land in Beijing, immediately breaking records and boosting overall store revenue by over 90%. Wakuku also broke daily sales records on May 17 with the launch of its “Fox-and-Bunny” collab at Miniso flagship stores in Shanghai and Nanjing. At the opening of the Miniso Space in Nanjing on June 18, another Wakuku figure sold out within just two hours. Over the past week, Wakuku went trending on Chinese social media multiple times.

From left to right: the March, May, and June successful Wakuku series/figurines

Like Labubu, Wakuku is a collectible keychain doll with a soft vinyl face and a plush body. These designer toys are especially popular among Chinese Gen Z female consumers, who use them as fashion accessories (hanging them from bags) or as desk companions.

We previously wrote in depth about the birth of Labubu, its launch by the Chinese POP MART (founded 2010), and the recipe for its global popularity in this article, so if you’re new to this trend of Chinese designer toys, you’ll want to check it out first (link).

Labubu has been making international headlines for months now, with the hype reaching a new peak when a human-sized Labubu sold for a record 1.08 million RMB (US$150,700), followed by a special edition that was purchased for nearly 760,000 RMB (US$106,000).

Now, Wakuku is the new kid on the block, and while it took Labubu nine years to win over young Chinese consumers, it barely took Wakuku a year — the character was created in 2022–2023, made its retail debut in 2024, and went viral within months.
Its pricing is affordable (59–159 RMB, around $8.2-$22) and some netizens argue it’s more quality for money.

While Labubu is a Nordic forest elf, Wakuku is a tribal jungle warrior. It comes in various designs and colors depending on the series and is sold in blind boxes (盲盒), meaning buyers don’t know exactly which design they’re getting — which adds an element of surprise.

➡️ There’s a lot to say about Wakuku, but perhaps the most noteworthy aspect is how closely it mirrors the trajectory of POP MART’s Labubu.

Wakuku’s recent success in China highlights the growing appeal and rapid rise of Chinese IPs (beyond its legal “intellectual property” meaning, ‘IPs’ is used to refer to unique cultural brands, characters, or stories that can be developed into collectibles, merchandise, and broader pop culture phenomena).

Although many critics predict that the Labubu trend will blow over soon, the popularity of Wakuku and other Labubu-like newcomers shows that these toys are not just a fleeting craze, but a cultural phenomenon that reflects the mindset of young Chinese consumers, China’s cross-industry business dynamics, and the global rise of a new kind of ‘C-pop.’

Wakuku: A Cheeky Jungle Copycat

When I say that Wakuku follows POP MART’s path almost exactly, I’m not exaggerating. Wakuku may be portrayed as a wild jungle child, but it’s definitely also a copycat.

It uses the same materials as Labubu (soft vinyl + plush), the name follows the same ABB format (Labubu, Wakuku, and the panda-themed Wakuku Pangdada), and the character story is built on a similar fantasy universe.

In fact, Letsvan’s very existence is tied to POP MART’s rise — the company was only founded in 2020, the same year POP MART, then already a decade old, went public on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange and became a dominant industry force.

In terms of marketing, Wakuku imitates POP MART’s strategy: blind boxes, well-timed viral drops, limited-edition tactics, and immersive retail environments.

It even follows a similar international expansion model as POP MART, turning Thailand into its first stop (出海首站) — not just because of its cultural proximity and flourishing Gen Z social media market, but also because Thailand was one of the first and most successful foreign markets for Labubu.

Its success is also deeply linked to celebrity endorsement. Just as Labubu gained global traction with icons like BLACKPINK’s Lisa and Rihanna seen holding the doll, Wakuku too leans heavily on celebrity visibility and entertainment culture.

Like Labubu, Wakuku even launched its own Wakuku theme song.

Since 2024, Letsvan has partnered with Yuehua Entertainment (乐华娱乐) — one of China’s leading talent agencies — to tap into its entertainment resources and celebrity network, powering the Wakuku marketing engine. Since stars like Esther Yu (虞书欣) were spotted wearing Wakuku as a jeans hanger, demand for the doll skyrocketed. Yuehua’s founder, Du Hua (杜华), even gifted a Wakuku to David Beckham as part of its celebrity strategy.

From Beckham to Esther Yu; celebrity endorsements play a big role in the viral marketing of Wakuku.

But what’s most important in Wakuku’s success — and how it builds on Labubu — is that it fully embraces the ugly-cute (丑萌 chǒu méng) aesthetic. Wakuku has a mischievous smile, expressive eyes, a slightly crooked face, a unibrow, and freckles — fitting perfectly with what many young Chinese consumers love: expressive, anti-perfectionist characters (反精致).

“Ugly-Cute” as an Aesthetic Rebellion

Letsvan is clearly riding the wave of “ugly trend toys” (丑萌潮玩) that POP MART spent years cultivating.

🔍 Why are Chinese youth so obsessed with things that look quirky or ugly?

A recent article by the Beijing Science Center (北京科学中心) highlights how “ugly-cute” toys like Labubu and Wakuku deviate from traditional Chinese aesthetics, and reflect a deeper generational pushback against perfection and societal expectations.

The pressure young people face — in education, at work, from family expectations, and information overload — is a red thread running through how China’s Gen Z behaves as a social media user and consumer (also see the last newsletter on nostalgia core).

To cope with daily stress, many turn to softer forms of resistance, such as the “lying flat” movement or the sluggish “rat lifestyle” in which people reject societal pressures to succeed, choosing instead to do the bare minimum and live simply.

This generational pushback also extends to traditional norms around marriage, gender roles, and ideals of beauty. Designer toys like Labubu and Wakuku are quirky, asymmetrical, gender-fluid, rebellious, and reflect a broader cultural shift: a playful rejection of conformity and a celebration of personal expression, authenticity, and self-acceptance.

Another popular designer toy is Crybaby, designed by Thai designer Molly, and described as follows: “Crybaby is not a boy or a girl, it is not even just human, it represents an emotion that comes from deep within. It can be anything and everything! Laughter isn’t the only way to make you feel better, crying can be healing too. If one day, a smile can’t alleviate your problems, baby, let’s cry together.”

But this isn’t just about rejecting tradition. It’s also about seeking happiness, comfort, and surprise: emotional value. And it’s usually not brand-focused but influencer-led. What matters is the story around it and who recommends it (unless the brand becomes the influencer itself — which is what’s ultimately happening with POP MART).

One of the unofficial ambassadors of the chǒu méng ugly-cute trend is Quan Hongchan (全红婵), the teenage diving champion and Olympic gold medallist from Guangdong. Quan is beloved not just for her talent, but also for her playful, down-to-earth personality.

During the Paris Olympics, she went viral for her backpack, which was overflowing with stuffed animals (some joked she was “carrying a zoo on her back”) — and for her animal-themed slippers, including a pair of ugly fish ones.

Quan Hongchan with her Wakuku, and her backpack and slippers during her Paris Olympics days.

It’s no surprise that Quan Hongchan is now also among the celebrities boosting the popularity of the quirky Wakuku.

From Factory to Fandom: A New Kind of “C-pop” in the Making

The success of Wakuku and other similar toys shows that they’re much more than Labubu 2.0; they’re all part of a broader trend tapping into the tastes and values of Chinese youth — which also speaks to a global audience.

And this trend is serious business. POP MART is one of the world’s fastest-growing consumer brands, with a current market value of approximately $43 billion, according to Morgan Stanley.

No wonder everyone wants a piece of the ‘Labubu pie,’ from small vendors to major companies.

It’s not just the resellers of authentic Labubu dolls who are profiting from the trend — so are the sellers of ‘Lafufu,’ a nickname for counterfeit Labubu dolls, that have become ubiquitous on e-commerce platforms and in toy markets (quite literally).

Wakuku’s rapid rise is also a story of calculated imitation. In this case, copying isn’t seen as a flaw but as smart market participation.

The founding team behind Letsvan already had a decade of experience in product design before setting out on their journey to become a major player in China’s popular designer toy and character merchandise market.

But their real breakthrough came in early 2025, when QuantaSing (量子之歌), a leading adult learning ed-tech company with no previous ties to toys, acquired a 61% stake in the company.

With QuantaSing’s financial backing, Yuehua Entertainment’s marketing power, and Miniso’s distribution reach, Wakuku took it to the next level.

The speed and precision with which Letsvan, QuantaSing, and Wakuku moved to monetize a subcultural trend — even before it fully peaked — shows just how advanced China’s trend toy industry has become.

This is no longer just about cute (or ugly-cute) designs; it’s about strategic ecosystems by ‘IP factories,’ from concept and design to manufacturing and distribution, blind-box scarcity tactics, immersive store experiences, and influencer-led viral campaigns — all part of a roadmap that POP MART refined and is now adopted by many others finding their way into this lucrative market. Their success is powered by the strength of China’s industrial & digital infrastructure, along with cross-industry collaboration.

The rise of Chinese designer toy companies reminds of the playbook of K-pop entertainment companies — with tight control over IP creation, strong visual branding, carefully engineered virality, and a deep understanding of fandom culture. (For more on this, see my earlier explanation of the K-pop success formula.)

If K-pop’s global impact is any indication, China’s designer toy IPs are only beginning to show their potential. The ecosystems forming around these products — from factory to fandom — signal that Labubu and Wakuku are just the first wave of a much larger movement.

– By Manya Koetse

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