Chapter Dive
Behind the Mysterious Death of Chinese Internet Celebrity Cat Wukong
“Dont believe the media,” Zhao Shuo said: “And also don’t believe me.”
Published
1 year agoon
How did the death of a young stray cat lead to a online wave of grief and outrage over the past few days? It started with fans mourning a beloved Chinese internet celebrity cat, then turned into backlash against fake news, anger over animal cruelty groups, and suspicions that local officials were more concerned with controlling the narrative than finding the truth.
Although things turned dark quickly, it began beautifully light.
The journey of Chinese cyclist Zhao Shuo and his cat Wukong seemed to come straight out of a novel. Zhao Shuo, the protagonist: a solitary traveler who would cycle through snow-covered mountains and endless desert roads for days on end, seriously disciplined and focused.
Then came Wukong, the playful and spirited stray cat who suddenly appeared, curled up inside his tent, purring happily beside him as if they had always been together. She found just the warmth she needed – and so did he.
From Stray Cat to Star Status: Wukong and Zhao’s Journey
Zhao Shuo (赵朔) is a Chinese cyclist who runs a social media account about his adventurous travels, cycling and camping in China’s western regions. Since 2023 – starting in Xi’an — he has been documenting his remarkable journey on his Douyin account “Notes from Zhao Shuo’s Western Journey” (@赵朔西行漫记), which now has over three million followers.
In his videos — often long-form by Douyin standards (ranging from 12 to 40 minutes) — he offers viewers a glimpse into his ‘bikepacking’ life, cycling across West China, including Tibet, Xinjiang, and Qinghai, where he sometimes goes days without seeing another person, coming across lush green areas and dry, sandy territories while dealing with extreme temperatures.

Zhao Shu’s adventurous bicycle and wild camping travels, documented on Douyin. Screenshots via whatsonweibo.com.
Zhao had already published dozens of videos of his bicycle tour when he first introduced the kitten he named ‘Wukong’ (悟空) to his followers.
On October 30, 2024, while camping out in a village in Kanas (喀纳斯), near the main peak of the Altai Mountains (阿勒泰) in northern Xinjiang, the stray appeared in front of his tent at 4 am, waking him up with her cries. The kitten seemed cold and hungry. She had a small injury near her mouth and might have been a target in an area filled with stray dogs.
When he allowed her to step inside his tent, she soon comfortably settled inside his sleeping bag and purred away (video). In the morning, she stuck around the tent, Zhao fed her, and the two bonded.

Wukong on the night she ‘adopted’ her human master.
Of course, Zhao was smitten – and so were his followers – how could he possibly leave his ‘Wukong’ behind now? A suitable and creative nickname, ‘Wukong’ is the legendary Monkey King in the classic Chinese novel Journey to the West (西游记). Like the monkey’s 72 transformations, he hoped the cat would have 72 lives instead of just nine, and decided to take her along with him.
Wukong made Zhao’s travels a lot more lively, but also a bit trickier — he had to rearrange his cycling gear to accommodate her, including a special cat backpack and a basket out front, and now he was cooking for two.

A new travel companion.
But it was all worth it. Wukong, who Zhao endearingly called his “stinky cat” (臭喵), grew bigger, chubbier, and braver, and the two became inseparable. By late December, it was minus 20 degrees Celsius (−4°F) when the two visited the scenic Sayram Lake (赛里木湖), where they played in the snow — something they would do far more often later on in their journey.

Playing in the snow – a favorite pastime of Zhao and Wukong.

Snow adventures at the lake, by @奶盖味的小山竹.
So far, so cute – the story of the lonely traveler Zhao finding an unexpected companion in the little stray Wukong resembles that of the Scottish Dean Nicholson, who found a best friend in Nala while cycling through Bosnia and then taking her along cycling around the world. It even led to the book Nala’s World.

The story of Zhao and Nala shows some resemblance to that of Dean Nicholson and his cat Nala, about which he wrote the book Nala’s World. (Image via Traveling Cats).
Zhao kept Wukong close, but still gave her enough freedom to roam around. In the late afternoons or at night, she would play around the tent — or in the guesthouse room when temperatures dropped too low. She often hunted for mice and would proudly bring Zhao her catch. She always returned to him. In December, as they passed through areas with more cars and traffic, Zhao got Wukong a cat leash and a GPS collar for safety.
Chinese netizens and media quickly took notice as the special bond between the cyclist and his cat deepened — the two literally sticking together through snow and wind, sunshine and rain. In December 2024, they even made the news for unexpectedly boosting sales of a Xinjiang yogurt brand featured in many of Zhao Shuo and Wukong’s videos. Zhao’s travels, with Wukong the internet celebrity cat as his ‘mascot,’ seemed to bring positive attention to Xinjiang and its various regions.
“It’s Done”: Wukong Is Gone
The happy story of Zhao and Wukong abruptly ended on April 15. In a video posted to Douyin in the middle of the night, Zhao Shuo, his eyes glassy and his appearance stressed, explained that Wukong had a run-in with a car earlier that day and was now “eternally resting.”
Standing on the side of the road in Ruoqiang (若羌), with Wukong’s remains in a cardboard box, Zhao said he had just gotten a car from the Miran Site (米兰遗址) to try and find a freezer to store the remains of his cat friend, hoping some of his followers could help. The video received more than 116,000 replies.

The midnight call for help from Zhao in Ruoqiang.
However sad, Wukong’s death initially did not attract as much attention outside the Zhao and Wukong online fan circles. The case really began receiving widespread attention in the weeks that followed, as what first appeared to be a tragic accident started raising unsettling questions.
In early May, Zhao Shuo posted a 42-minute video (link to copy) recounting the various developments — from how Wukong died to everything that followed.
On April 15, Zhao Shuo and Wukong woke up at their campsite near the visitor center of the Miran Ruins (米兰遗址) — the remains of an ancient Silk Road settlement and Buddhist religious center located in Ruoqiang County.
Zhao had slept in that day until 3pm due to a rough, sleepless night the previous night. Zhao got out of his tent to go to the public toilet nearby, chatted with some visitors, and Wukong was following him as usual, staying near and playing around the square in front of the visitor center. Zhao put the GPS collar on her around 4 pm.
After 4 pm, Zhao briefly went into the main hall and took some photos. Wukong did not go in with him and remained at the front of the hall. Inside, Zhao inquired about the best route to continue his travels from Ruoqiang in Xinjiang toward Qinghai. He exited around 4:20 and visited the museum on the premises. It wasn’t until later in the afternoon, when he returned to his campsite, that he found Wukong was no longer there — not at their spot, not at the site.
By 6 pm, he went out looking for her. Thanks to the GPS system, he found — to his surprise — that Wukong’s location was over two kilometers away, and that there had been some disturbance in the signal.
He kept the camera rolling as he headed out on his bike to look for her, calling her name through an area of desert and empty highway. Then came the tragic moment Zhao spotted Wukong lying by the side of the road: “Oh god. I can’t believe my eyes, Wukong!” he said, the shock and pain visible on his face. The little cat was already lifeless and stiff. (Original video on Douyin removed; reuploaded video on YouTube: this is the moment Zhao finds Wukong)

Their heartbreaking final ride together.
“The stinky cat has been running around,” Zhao said, his voice breaking. “It’s done.” In a moving scene, he placed her in the basket on the front of his bike to take their final ride together and bring her back to the camp.
“Inexplicable Death, Full of Suspicious Points”: Zhao Searches for Answers
Back at the camp, Zhao walked around with Wukong’s stiff body in his arms, placing her on the ground and then picking her up again, seemingly overwhelmed with grief and unsure of what to do next.
Perhaps speaking more to himself than his viewers, he wondered how this could have happened — there was nothing but desert out there, with only a patch of green near his campsite. Wukong always stayed close, and there was nothing beyond to explore. How had she ended up so far from the site, all the way out by the national highway?
Once he collected himself, Zhao’s first priority was to cool Wukong’s remains. He packed up his belongings, arranged for a car, and made his way to Ruoqiang. There, he arranged storage for his bike and posted that video asking his followers if anyone could lend him a freezer. After that was taken care of, he spent the following days organizing a vehicle and a portable icebox. With Wukong stored in the back of the car, he returned to Miran to check the security footage — only to find that nothing had seemingly been recorded due to a malfunction.
The complete lack of surveillance footage was not the only peculiar detail surrounding the death of Zhao’s cat. To his surprise, he came across a news article from the well-known Chinese media outlet Jiupai News (九派新闻), reporting on Wukong’s death. The article had been published just hours after Zhao posted his first video announcing her passing and within 24 hours of her death.
In the report, published on April 16 at 14:04, reporter Huang Qiaowen (黄巧文) wrote that Wukong had died in a car accident, citing police as saying that the cat had crawled under a car and was accidentally run over when the driver started it. The article claimed the matter had already been resolved.
But according to Zhao, he had no idea how his cat had actually died — and had never come to any “understanding” with a car owner. “Which car owner? I don’t know anything,” he said. “This is considered a relatively big media outlet, it’s truly a blatant fabrication.”
Zhao added that he had spoken directly with the police, who told him they had no details about the incident beyond what he himself had reported, making the news story entirely false.
Zhao Shuo decided to set out again in a rental car on April 19, driving nearly 900 kilometers (560 miles) from Ruoqiang, via Korla, to Urumqi — the capital of Xinjiang. There, he visited three different pet hospitals to have Wukong examined, including both an X-ray and a CT scan.

The scans showed that Wukong’s organs and bones were intact.
In late April, Zhao returned to the Miran Ruins site twice, first to check whether the surveillance system had been fixed (it hadn’t), and later to see if any footage from the day Wukong disappeared had been recovered. Although the system was eventually repaired, there was still no footage from that day. Zhao also searched the surrounding area for any other surveillance cameras but found none that were relevant to where Wukong came from and where she was found.
“Traveling with a cat is full of risks, and I could accept it if Wukong had died in an accident,” Zhao said. “But this inexplicable death is full of suspicious points.”
🚩 One of the suspicious points is that Zhao found no obvious external injuries on Wukong — no bleeding from the nose or mouth. However, while her paw pads were intact, her claws were completely worn down, with split and damaged nails. Zhao initially considered the possibility that Wukong had climbed under a car parked near the visitor center and was unknowingly taken along when it drove off, eventually falling out onto the highway — which could explain the worn claws. However, the examination results showed that all major internal organs and bones were intact, with no signs of trauma, ruling out both a vehicle collision and a fall from height. Suffocation was also ruled out by the veterinarians.
🚩 Zhao also noted that the button on her GPS leash had come undone when he found her — something the cat would not have been able to do by herself.
🚩 The night when Zhao went to Ruoqiang in search of a freezer to store Wukong’s remains, he packed her in a plastic bag inside a cardboard box. Although there had initially been no visible bleeding, when he removed her body around 2 am, he found blood flowing from her mouth and nose in a non-coagulating state. This type of bleeding is consistent with toxin-induced bleeding, not trauma or natural death.
🚩 The conclusions from the different veterinarians were all consistent with symptoms of poisoning. The CT scan showed undigested food in Wukong’s stomach — notable because Zhao hadn’t fed her yet that day, as they had both slept in until later that afternoon. Zhao also inquired whether there was any rat poison in or around the visitor center and was told there was none.
🚩 The manufacturer of the GPS collar provided Zhao with the recorded data: the last refresh was at 4:10 pm, when Wukong was still near the visitor center, just after he had put the collar on her. The next location recorded was at 4:30 pm, right at the spot where Zhao later found Wukong’s body. This leaves a 20-minute gap in the data, which is highly abnormal, as the signal should refresh every 2–3 minutes under normal conditions.
Beyond the strange 20-minute interval, this also means that Wukong would have had to travel the full 2 kilometers from the Miran visitor center to the remote highway junction where she was found within those 20 minutes. But by the time Zhao discovered her around 6 pm, her body was already stiff and covered in flies, suggesting she had died well before that, making the timeline even harder to explain.

GPS collar data shows a 20 minute gap and the collar location going from the visitor center to side of the highway.
🚩 The area where Wukong was found sees hardly any traffic — it’s a quiet, almost abandoned stretch of highway. With all the information at hand, it’s just one more detail that makes her death all the more incomprehensible.
With all the new developments and information at hand, Wukong’s death not only triggered a wave of grief among fans, it also sparked broader concerns and anger over how she died.
These concerns soon touched upon the topic of so-called “cat abuse groups” — online dark web communities of twisted minds who take pleasure in abusing animals. These groups reportedly film or even livestream the capture and killing of stray cats. Some individuals even pay to watch such content. There is also a disturbing phenomenon of “bounties,” where money is used as bait to incite others to abuse or kill cats — sometimes specifically targeting well-known or popular strays to generate more buzz and attention.
The existence of these cat abuse groups became more widely known in April 2023, when Chinese food vlogger Xu Zhihui (徐志辉) was exposed as a member of a cat abuse chat group on QQ.
Various Douyin users have claimed that Wukong was, in fact, listed on one of these so-called “bounty lists.”
Whether or not Wukong’s death was actually connected to such abuse groups remains speculative — although many bloggers believe it is — most netizens engaged in these online discussions are convinced that, group or not, Wukong was deliberately poisoned by someone with malicious intent.
At the time of writing, several online animal advocacy groups are still urging the public to come forward with any dashcam footage or information they may have about what happened on April 15.
“Don’t Believe Me”: An Unnatural Apology
Amid all the online anger and speculation, a 3-minute video update by Zhao Shuo appeared on his channel on May 9.
In the Douyin video (link to reuploaded copy on Youtube), Zhao explained how he had rented another car to get back from Qinghai’s Mangya (茫崖市) to return to Ruoqiang County a final time to further investigate the cause of Wukong’s death.
The video was recorded at the exact spot where he found Wukong.

From the apology video.
Looking ahead while walking, Zhao says:
💬 “These days, I’ve been at the local Public Security Department, the Publicity Department and Cultural & Tourism department. With the warm assistance of local volunteers and citizens, through a step-by-step analysis and investigation, and step-by-step restoration of the scene, we basically determined the cause of Wukong’s death. That is the death caused by accidentally ingesting a [certain] small rodent. Other types of causes like car accidents, poisoning and torture have all been completely ruled out. So if we put it this way, the person who carries the biggest responsibility for the death of Wukong is me. As his owner, I didn’t look after him good enough. Wukong’s death has absolutely nothing to do with anyone else. Furthermore, this incident has caused a very negative public opinion for the local area. I hereby apologize to everyone, even though I know this apology is powerless, because the direction of public opinion is not something that can be changed by individual will.”
That part of the video was picked up by Chinese media. Beijing Daily even posted the apology on Douyin.
But they did not include what came next: a moment when something seems to shift in Zhao’s demeanor.

“Don’t believe me,” Zhao says.
After walking with the wind at his back, he suddenly turns around, now moving against it, looks straight into the camera, and says:
💬 “Additionally, I want to remind everyone of two points. First, never blindly trust anyone or any media outlet, especially immoral ones like Jiupai News. You even should not believe me. Everyone should rely on their own judgment. You need your own independent thinking to assess what a matter is about, how it developed – make your own reasoned judgement. Second, no matter how difficult or shocking the changes in life may be, we must respond with rational judgment, not blind emotional outbursts. Emotional release won’t solve anything — it will only make matters worse. Only by handling things rationally can we truly resolve problems.”
Zhao concluded the video by bidding his viewers farewell — something that was just as unusual as the short format of his video.
The next day, the video was suddenly deleted, along with a few other ones. Zhao’s Douyin account was also set to private.
On Chinese social media, from Douyin to Weibo, most commenters think they know why. “It’s because his apology wasn’t considered sincere enough,” one Douyin user suggested. Others also suggest that Zhao had been ordered to create an apology video.
📱 “(..) [It] clearly sounded like someone higher up told him to say them — way too official/formal.”
📱 “Classic, truly classic — absolutely classic!!! (..) They only talk about the impact of public opinion, but not about what triggered it. And they even hide the truth! So classic!”
📱 “I’m bursting with rage, they’re deleting the Douyin videos. So they claim it’s because [Wukong] mistakenly ate a small rodent, and that’s why it unbuckled its own harness, the signal was blocked, and [the cat] walked two kilometers in a straight line by itself? Wow. I honestly don’t even know what to say anymore.”
📱 “Wukong would never eat a dead rat — at most, he’d eat small field mice. I’m really furious. I can’t say too much, I don’t want to cause trouble for [Zhao Suo], but I will remember this place: Ruoqiang County.”
📱 “It probably ate a bat, and after eating it, it could fly and flew straight for two kilometers… even managed to undo the clasp behind its neck… in the end, it clawed at the ground until its paws were torn apart, then collapsed and couldn’t get up...”
📱 “I think that if Wukong’s cause of death is really as the Ruoqiang authorities claim, then they should release pictures of this rodent species. This rodent is definitely poisonous — the evidence being that Zhao Shuo took Wukong to more than two hospitals, and tests confirmed the presence of toxins. After all, that area is visited by many tourists, so it’s important to inform them to stay away from this rodent.”
📱 “Doesn’t anyone want to know the truth? Doesn’t anyone feel very bad for these two? One died in an unclear and unjust way.The other suffered while seeking the truth, and was crushed by an invisible force, like a mountain pressing down. This is truly criminalizing the innocent. Most netizens only see what’s presented on the surface, and blindly believe it.(..) Hope this incident can push for improvements in the Animal Protection Law.”
Was Wukong truly the victim of an animal abuse group? Was the cat purposely killed by a local? Or, as some suggest, did she eat rat poison near the visitor center and was disposed of near the highway by people who did not want any trouble? Or is there a far more innocuous reason for the cat’s death, like digesting a poisonous rodent and running 2km before dying?
Regardless, the entire incident does little to enhance the image of Xinjiang’s Ruoqiang region, and this very likely played a role in the eventual ‘apology’ video posted — and then deleted — by Zhao.
There are many sides to this story, and you can dive deeper depending on what you choose to highlight. There’s the simple fact that Chinese digital media outlets like Jiupai News apparently fabricate stories for reasons one can only guess; there’s the angle that draws attention to how animal abuse is used as a form of entertainment in niche online circles; and there’s the undeniable reality that Chinese influencers have the power to make and break the public image of certain places in China — a fact that is readily embraced by local authorities when it casts them in a positive light, and sometimes quietly erased when it doesn’t.
But, above all, this is still a story about the friendship between a man and his cat. The way it ended only underscores just how deep that bond truly was.
After visiting Urumqi to have Wukong examined, Zhao drove another 600 kilometers (about 370 miles) — making it a total of 1,500 kilometers (around 930 miles) from Ruoqiang (and another 1,500 kilometers to return to his bicycle) — to reach Kanas and the majestic Altai Mountains, where he first met the kitten Wukong in 2024.

Wukong buried in the snowy mountains she loved – and where they first met.
It is here where Zhao wanted to say a final goodbye to his “stinky cat.” He dug a grave and laid Wukong to rest.
Meanwhile, on Chinese social media platforms like Weibo, Xiaohongshu, and Douyin, people are honoring Wukong — and venting their anger — in their own ways. These are some of the online tributes:

Wukong the cat, with reference to “Journey to the West,” saying: “Humans, do your best.” Posted by Douyin user: 大哥性感

Posted by Weibo user @杨于钥杨羊.

Zhao kneeling besides the box, with Wukong rising from it, shared by @余煌化妆师.

Dark hands reaching for the celebrity cat – original creator unknown.

The “Monkey King” cat is drying the tears of Zhao, at the camp site. Shared by @温婉的牛马, @赤火飞.

Wukong left at Altai Mountain, Zhao Su walks away. AI image via Xiaohongshu, original creator unknown.

Wukong in the grave, shared by @余煌化妆师.

Paw prints left on Zhao’s heart, memories of happy snow days.

More examples of online tributes to Wukong.
There are also artists who draw Wukong, sometimes on paper (see here), but also on walls (see videos here and here).
In a way, these images have now become a form of resistance in the face of uncertainty, and Wukong has come to represent something bigger.
One Weibo user wrote:
📱 “I’ve been continuously following this case. Based on the latest updates from the ‘master’ [an online nickname for Zhao Shuo], it really feels like he’s been threatened and can no longer continue searching for clues. In the end, it’s the power of capital and background connections that’s suppressing us ordinary people.(..) Supporting the legislation of an Animal Protection Law is more urgent than ever — it starts with you and me. Speak up for Wukong, and for the countless stray animals out there!”
Although there are various laws in China regarding wildlife and the protection of animals, there currently is no national law that is explicitly against animal cruelty for all animals. In recent years, voices calling for better laws on animal abuse in China have grown louder.
As for Zhao Shuo, he is continuing his journey — leaving Xinjiang for Qinghai. In his latest video, he said he won’t talk about Wukong anymore. Beyond any external pressures he faces, it will take time for him to process the loss of his travel companion, whose legacy endures not only in his heart but also within a much wider online community.
“Thank you for bringing joy into my otherwise ordinary days,” one Weibo user wrote. “Goodnight, little Wukong, and don’t forget — we’ll miss you very much, you stinky cat. I think I’ll remember this story for a long time — we’ll often look back at the footprints you left behind.”🐾🔚
By Manya Koetse
(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)
Spotted a mistake or want to add something? Please let us know in comments below or email us. First-time commenters, please be patient – we will have to manually approve your comment before it appears.
©2025 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.
Manya Koetse is a sinologist, writer, and public speaker specializing in China’s social trends, digital culture, and online media ecosystems. She founded What’s on Weibo in 2013 and now runs the Eye on Digital China newsletter. Learn more at manyakoetse.com or follow her on X, Instagram, or LinkedIn.
You may like
Chapter Dive
My Mum Has Two Husbands: The OPPO Mother’s Day Fiasco and 7 Other Gender Marketing Fails in China
Inside OPPO’s Mother’s Day PR fiasco and other failed marketing campaigns in China’s gender minefield
Published
2 days agoon
May 12, 2026
The backlash to OPPO’s Mother’s Day ad came from multiple directions, from grassroots netizens to official organizations. Here’s a closer look at the controversy, along with 7 other cases that show how gender-related marketing has become a recurring minefield for brands in China.
Mother’s Day is over, but OPPO is still recovering. The Chinese smartphone brand went viral over the weekend for a Mother’s Day marketing campaign that failed spectacularly. In the campaign, OPPO used the slogan: “My mom has two ‘husbands.’”
The accompanying text read:
“My mom has two ‘husbands.’ One is my dad, and the other one she sees twice a year. She barely dresses up for dates with my dad, but when she sees the other one, she’d wear a wedding dress if she could.” (“我妈有两个‘老公’,一个是我爸,另一个一年见两回。跟我爸约会基本不打扮,见另一个,她恨不得穿婚纱。”)

The OPPO ad was published online on May 8, 2026.
With this ad, OPPO was likely trying to tap into digital culture and resonate with younger consumers by using online slang.
In Chinese fandom subcultures, female fans sometimes refer to their idols as their “husband” (老公, lǎogōng) to express their devotion. It is part of a broader online joke, with some fans even incorporating life-size cardboard cutouts of their favorite celebrities into their weddings.

The phrase “real husband” (真老公) gained wider mainstream attention in late 2025 after a young Chinese bride unexpectedly ran into rapper and singer Jackson Wang on her wedding day and posted:
💬 “Who understands this? I met my real husband on my wedding day!” (“谁懂啊!婚礼当天遇到了真老公!!”)

The ‘real husband’ post that went viral in late 2025 and early 2026.
Although some commenters found it funny, the bride was heavily criticized for publicly calling a celebrity her “real husband” on her wedding day, using the same word (老公) that refers to her literal spouse, as if she were placing her idol above her actual groom.
💬 “This makes it seem as though she does not truly regard the man she is legally marrying as her husband at all,” one among many commenters wrote.
While OPPO was probably aiming for a tongue-in-cheek campaign featuring an energetic and youthful mother who adores her idol, the company appears to have badly misread the room.
After the ad was posted on Weibo and other social media channels ahead of Mother’s Day, backlash quickly followed.
Many netizens were confused and did not understand the reference to fan culture. Some said they were simply “baffled” by what they saw as an inappropriate message suggesting that mom was cheating—and on Mother’s Day, no less!
💬 “Without reading the comments, I thought the ad was saying the mother was cheating and didn’t love her husband, but had a side lover she was crazy about,” one Xiaohongshu commenter wrote.
Others asked whether the creators would have been willing to run a similar Father’s Day campaign with the line: “My dad has two wives.”
Fan culture remains far removed from the everyday experience of many ordinary Chinese netizens, creating not just a gender divide but also a generational and social one.
Even when people understand that an “idol husband” is purely fictional, the term 老公 (lǎogōng) still carries the literal meaning of “husband” and implies emotional devotion to someone outside the marriage. For some, that feels disrespectful.
Many also questioned the contrast at the heart of the campaign: why does mum barely dress up for dates with her husband, yet would supposedly wear a wedding dress to see a celebrity?
Others believe celebrity fandom in China has already gone too far, and felt that using this language in a mainstream advertising campaign was especially misplaced.
As one marketing commentator on Xiaohongshu Cathy聊品牌热点) put it, OPPO had managed to offend almost every relevant audience: male consumers who saw the ad as disrespectful to husbands, fandom communities who did not want their inside jokes dragged into mainstream advertising, women who support gender equality, and many others who hold strong views about traditional family values.
Emotional Infidelity as a Form of Female Self-Expression
The brand quickly took the campaign offline and apologized. But in their initial apology post, OPPO explained that it had merely intended to challenge gender stereotypes and present a “more diverse and multi-dimensional image of today’s mothers,” women who can enjoy celebrity fandoms and pursue hobbies beyond their roles as wives and mothers.
OPPO’s first apology: “Our original intention was to break stereotypes and present a more diverse and multi-dimensional image of today’s mothers.”
That explanation sparked another wave of criticism, with many arguing that OPPO had completely missed the point. Few people objected to the idea that mothers can have celebrity idols or personal passions. What many found problematic was the suggestion of romantic involvement outside the marriage.
One Weibo commenter (@甲申鬼友), who called the entire episode a “PR disaster”, suggested that the problem was that OPPO framed emotional infidelity as a form of female self-expression.
They wrote:
💬 “The controversial slogan “My mom has two husbands” was not about challenging stereotypes about mothers. Instead, it glorified the tacky behavior of a married woman calling a celebrity “husband” and wanting to wear a wedding dress to see him, presenting it as a form of female self-expression. Implicitly, it suggested that a real husband should unconditionally accept his wife’s “emotional infidelity.” (…). The message conveyed by the campaign was clear enough: it alienated men and mothers who still value loyalty and commitment in relationships.”
It soon became clear that OPPO’s handling of the issue was turning into a bigger problem than the ad itself.
As netizens continued to criticize the campaign, the controversy was amplified by blogs, mainstream media, and state-affiliated organizations.
The China Advertising Association (CAA), the country’s leading advertising body operating under state supervision, weighed in, along with the All-China Women’s Federation (ACWF), China’s main state-linked women’s organization.
Both organizations echoed familiar Party messaging, criticizing marketing that crosses the boundaries of public morality, deviates from core socialist values, violates traditional family ethics, or “misleads the public, especially young people, about social values.”
As the controversy escalated, attention also turned to OPPO’s China region brand strategy director, Yu Siyue (余思月), a graduate of Wuhan University’s School of Chinese Language and Literature.
The university itself then entered the discussion by posting a statement on Weibo saying it was “shocked” by the campaign. It said it “strongly disagrees with the content (..) and the values conveyed,” distancing itself from both the campaign and its alumna. (In a detail I found unintentionally amusing, the statement also noted that Yu had once been praised for helping an elderly passenger on a bus.)
Wuhan University itself was also criticized for inserting itself into a controversy that had little to do with the university. Chinese media outlet Yicai asked: “Who forced Wuhan University into this disastrous move?” Even political commentator Hu Xijin called the statement an overreaction and a sign of “public opinion anxiety syndrome” (舆情焦虑症).
In the end, OPPO apologizedc a second time on Monday, this time stating that both the campaign and its initial response reflected serious shortcomings in the company’s values and judgment. The company said it had lost sight of “upholding the boundaries of China’s core socialist values.”
OPPO said the incident had led to disciplinary measures against those responsible, and the company promised it would ensure that future campaigns better align with “mainstream values.”
Lessons to Be Learned
There are a few things to be learned from OPPO’s PR nightmare:
🔍 1. Marketing fails are often about the response
Once a marketing controversy breaks out, the company’s response often matters more than the original mistake. If the response fails to address the actual criticism, the fallout can become much worse than the initial problem.
🔍 2. In China, PR controversies quickly become political issues
In China, public relations is inherently political. What begins as criticism from netizens can quickly be amplified by state media and official organizations. In the process, a relatively minor marketing controversy can be reframed as a broader debate about morality and family values. Once that happens, the issue is no longer just about a poorly judged advertisement but becomes a tool for boosting official narratives and reinforcing broader Party priorities.
🔍 3. In China’s cancel culture, everyone rushes to distance themselves
Chinese online backlash can be intense and unforgiving. Once a controversy takes off, everyone rushes to distance themselves from it. The fact that OPPO’s brand director became a target, and that even Wuhan University felt compelled to issue a public statement, illustrates this dynamic. At the same time, such overreactions can backfire, especially when an organization emphasizes that it is “not involved” by publicly engaging in the controversy. Sometimes, silence really is golden.
🔍 4. Gender-related marketing in China is a minefield
This episode is another reminder of how difficult it can be for brands to engage with gender-related themes in China. Companies eager to appear youthful and relatable may underestimate just how sensitive these issues are, and how quickly a seemingly playful campaign can turn into a major controversy.
Not Just OPPO: When Gender-Related Marketing Goes Wrong
OPPO is far from alone.
In recent years, language, jokes, and messaging related to gender, feminism, and male-female relationships have become some of the most sensitive issues in Chinese advertising.
In a rapidly changing China, gender roles are evolving, identities are shifting, and ideas about what is considered feminine or masculine are increasingly contested.
Expectations around what female consumers want and what male consumers value are also in flux. Younger and older generations, and especially male and female netizens, often disagree about what is socially acceptable amid women’s growing assertiveness, persistent patriarchal attitudes, and changing global trends.
For advertisers and creative directors, this creates a particularly difficult environment. Brands are trying to tap into consumers’ purchasing power and keep up with shifting social norms, while also staying within the bounds of official values and political priorities. As a result, it is easy to misread the mood and miss the mark.
Campaigns can inadvertently reinforce traditional gender hierarchies, sexualize women, portray men in ways that spark backlash, or rely on outdated stereotypes.
And, as the OPPO case shows, even campaigns that genuinely aim to challenge stereotypes can end up provoking criticism instead.
Below are seven other examples of brand campaigns in China that backfired over the past decade.
💥 #1 Blue Moon: Mother’s Day Marketing Backfires
Marketing campaign (2024): “Let Mom Do the Laundry More Easily”
Main problem: Reinforcing outdated gender stereotypes

China’s household cleaning giant Blue Moon (蓝月亮) also found itself at the center of a marketing controversy after a 2024 Mother’s Day elevator ad campaign promoting its premium laundry detergent with the slogans “Let mom do the laundry more easily” (“让妈妈洗衣更轻松”) and “Mom, you use it first” (“妈妈您先用”).
Many users objected to the message, arguing that it portrayed doing laundry as something that naturally belongs to mothers and reinforced traditional gender stereotypes. As part of a Mother’s Day campaign, critics said the messaging was particularly inappropriate.
As in OPPO’s case, Blue Moon’s crisis management made matters worse. The company’s initial response suggested the controversy was merely a “misunderstanding” and said the campaign was intended to express gratitude to mothers. Many netizens disagreed, arguing that Mother’s Day and mothers doing the laundry had nothing to do with each other.
💥 #2 Fuyanjie: “Too Dark and Stinky”
Marketing campaign (2022): “83% of men are unwilling to go down on their partner because it’s too dark and stinky”
Main problem: Straightforwardly sexist

In 2022, the well-known Chinese feminine hygiene brand Fuyanjie (妇炎洁) promoted a pink-colored intimate wash by claiming that “surveys show that 83% of men from South Korea, Japan, and China are unwilling to go down on their partner because it’s too dark and stinky” (“中日韩三国社会调查显示:83%的男性不愿意给伴侣口爱的原因竟然是太黑太难闻下不去嘴”).
Besides promising to make the genital area pinker, the campaign also suggested that hyperpigmentation could be caused by wearing tight pants and having too much sex.
The brand drew widespread criticism for being vulgar, insulting to women, and completely unscientific. Some netizens suggested that the ad makers should focus on turning their own penises pink instead.
Fuyanjie apologized and took both the campaign and the product offline.
(Remarkably, this was the brand’s second major controversy. In 2016, one of its intimate wash products carried the slogan: “I can’t wash away your past, but I can wash your future clean” (“我不能洗掉你的过去,但我能洗干净你的未来”), a line widely criticized as slut-shaming.)
💥 #3 Coconut Palm: Big Boobs, Short Skirts, and a Marketing Strategy Built on Controversy
Marketing campaign (2022): Busty women in tight tops and shorts dancing on livestream
Main problem: Objectification of women & crossing official lines

During China’s National Day holiday in the 2022 Covid & livestream year, Chinese coconut drink brand Coconut Palm (椰树椰汁) found itself at the center of controversy over a series of promotional streams on Douyin.
The company had already been fined twice by authorities for advertisements and packaging suggesting that drinking Coconut Palm could promote breast enlargement.
The 2022 livestreams featured several attractive, busty women in tight tops and short shorts dancing in front of the camera. The broadcasts drew even more attention when they were repeatedly interrupted and cut off by the platform.
There was little new about the campaign. Coconut Palm’s marketing has revolved around voluptuous women and sexually suggestive slogans for more than 25 years.
One of the company’s most famous slogans was “I’ve been drinking it since I was little” (“我从小喝到大”). While literally meaning “I’ve been drinking it since childhood,” the phrase can also be interpreted as “I grew big [breasts] by drinking it.”
The livestreams reignited debate on Chinese social media about the objectification of women in advertising and online culture. Coconut Palm is the only example on this list where controversy appears to be a core part of the brand’s marketing strategy. And while regulators have repeatedly taken issue with its approach, many consumers seem to appreciate the brand precisely for its refusal to change.
💥 #4 Ubras: “Underwear That Helps Women Win in the Workplace”
 
Marketing campaign (2021): Underwear so comfortable that it can “help women lie down and win in the workplace”
Main problem: Sexist and offensive

Popular talk show host and comedian Li Dan (李诞) sparked controversy on Chinese social media in 2021 over a promotional slogan for the Chinese women’s underwear brand Ubras. Their slogan (“让女性轻松躺赢职场”) can be loosely translated as “make it easy for women to win in the workplace lying down.”
The phrase was widely interpreted as suggesting that women could use their bodies or sexuality to gain an advantage at work. According to the brand, the intended message was simply that Ubras bras are so comfortable that women could “lie down and win.” The full slogan was: “一个让女性躺赢职场的装备” — “equipment that helps women lie down and win in the workplace.”
Many people felt it was inappropriate not only for a male celebrity to promote women’s underwear, but also for the campaign to draw a connection between lingerie and workplace success.
Ubras and Li Dan both apologized for the “inappropriate wording,” and all related promotional content was removed.
💥 #5 Intel: When a Brand Ambassador Becomes the Controversy
 
Marketing campaign (2021): “Intel’s standards are even higher than mine when choosing a partner”
Main problem: Caught in China’s gender wars

Tech company Intel sparked controversy in 2021 by appointing Chinese comedian Yang Li (杨笠) as a brand ambassador in China. Yang Li had become a polarizing figure because of her jokes about men, including her famous line: “Men are adorable, but mysterious. After all, they can look so average and yet be so full of confidence.”
In Intel’s campaign, Yang said: “Intel’s standards are so high — even higher than mine when choosing a partner.” (“英特尔的眼光太高了,比我挑对象的眼光都高。”)
The line itself was relatively harmless. What triggered the backlash was Yang’s public persona.
Some male netizens accused Yang of being sexist and argued that Intel, a company selling laptops and computer chips, should not be represented by a comedian known for mocking men — especially when men were seen as a key target audience.
Intel subsequently deleted the advertisement from its social media channels and ended its collaboration with Yang Li.
That decision, however, sparked a second wave of criticism. Many female netizens accused Intel of caving to online pressure and asked what had happened to the company’s commitment to diversity and inclusion. Others mocked Intel for changing its marketing strategy to appease China’s “ordinary yet confident” men.
💥 #6 Juewei Duck Neck: “Tender, Juicy — Want Some?”
 
Marketing campaign (2017): Sexually suggestive Singles’ Day poster
Main problem: Vulgar and objectifying

Ahead of the 2017 Singles’ Day shopping festival, Chinese snack chain Juewei Duck Neck (绝味鸭脖), one of China’s largest duck neck and marinated meat brands, published a promotional poster on its Tmall store showing a cartoon woman in short shorts lying on a bed with chains around her ankles and her legs spread apart, with one of the company’s products placed in front of her.
The slogan read: “Tender, juicy — want some?” (“鲜嫩多汁,想要吗”). The sexually suggestive image triggered immediate controversy and widespread criticism.
Juewei Duck Neck later issued a nationwide apology, and both the company and the advertising agency responsible for the campaign were fined 600,000 yuan (approximately US$88,000) each.
💥 #7 IKEA: “If You Don’t Bring Back a Boyfriend, Don’t Call Me Mom”
Marketing campaign (2017): Turning parental pressure to marry into a lifestyle ad Main problem: Reinforcing social pressure on unmarried women

A 30-second IKEA commercial sparked controversy in China in 2017 for portraying parental pressure on an unmarried daughter to find a boyfriend.
In the ad, a mother tells her daughter at the dinner table: “If you don’t bring back a boyfriend next time, then don’t call me Mom.” (“再不带男朋友回来,就别叫我妈,”)
The doorbell then rings, and a young man holding flowers appears. The parents immediately brighten, make the living room more welcoming, and set out IKEA tableware for a celebratory meal. The tagline reads: “Celebrate everyday life easily” (“轻松庆祝每一天”).
The ad drew widespread criticism, especially because it aired at a time when many women in China were pushing back against intense social pressure to marry by a certain age. Critics argued that IKEA was trivializing this while reinforcing outdated expectations about marriage and filial duty.
IKEA apologized and removed the commercial.\
Eye on Digital China, by Manya Koetse, is co-published on Substack and What’s on Weibo. Both feature the same new content — so you can read and subscribe wherever you prefer. Substack offers community features, while What’s on Weibo provides full archive access.
Chapter Dive
Beyond the “Ching Chong” Controversy: The “Pocket Asian” in The Devil Wears Prada 2
How a niche online debate was amplified into a global “racism” story, and why the real discussion runs deeper
Published
3 weeks agoon
April 26, 2026
The Devil Wears Prada 2 is one of the major blockbusters of China’s popular May Day movie season. However, among Chinese audiences, discussions surrounding the Hollywood film have shifted from “Runway” to “racism”. What’s behind the controversy?
It’s almost the May Day holiday, and seventeen films are lined up for one of the most important box office moments of the year in China. One of them, the only major Hollywood film, is the American movie The Devil Wears Prada 2, the long-awaited sequel to the 2006 blockbuster starring Anne Hathaway and Meryl Streep.
Both actresses visited Shanghai for the film’s China premiere earlier this month, where attendees were shown the first 20 minutes. Early reactions were positive, online fans were enthusiastic, and all signs pointed to a strong box office run.
But that seemed to change this week as the film began facing online backlash. Reports emerged describing it as “racist” and “offensive” in China, focusing on the role played by Chinese American actress Helen J. Shen—namely, the new geeky office assistant, ‘Jin Chao.’
By now, the story of the film drawing “furious reactions” or even “facing a boycott” in China has been picked up by dozens of global media outlets, from The Guardian to the Global Times.

Collection of headlines about the backlash
But how big is the controversy, really?
Let’s first look at the story behind these headlines before diving into the bigger context.
From Niche Discussion to Global “Backlash”
Media reports about The Devil Wears Prada 2 facing backlash in China began circulating around April 17–18, when a promotional clip of the film was officially released, introducing the Asian or Chinese American assistant to Anne Hathaway’s character Andy.

In the clip, the petite and somewhat socially awkward young woman introduces herself as ‘Jin Chao’ and lists her academic credentials, including graduating from Yale with a high grade point average.
One of the earliest reports claiming there was major backlash came from entertainment blogger Mengshen Mumu (萌神木木), published on QQ News on April 18 under the headline: “The Devil Wears Prada 2 embroiled in anti-China controversy! Asian character portrayed stereotypically, name seen as deliberately offensive.”1
China.com republished the same blog under the title “The Devil Wears Prada 2 Asian controversy: stereotypical portrayal sparks public outrage.”2
The article claimed the movie was sparking backlash and calls for a boycott among “netizens” (网友), focusing on the character’s nerdy portrayal and her name, rendered as “Qin Chao” or “Qin Zhou” (秦舟). According to the author, its English pronunciation closely resembled “Ching Chong,” a historically racist term used to mock Chinese people.
It concludes: “At present, the film’s reputation appears to be on shaky ground, and its box office prospects in China may not be promising.”
Notably, the only evidence cited for this supposedly widespread backlash consists of a few screenshots of comments made by Douban users in a discussion group about the film.
That discussion—now private and inaccessible—appears to have been the basis not only for this article, but also for many of the Chinese, Korean, and international reports that followed, as they all trace back to the same China.com source.
This context matters. It suggests that the “backlash” was less organic than portrayed, and that media amplification played a significant role in turning a niche discussion—one that did not trend on major platforms like Weibo—into a narrative of nationwide outrage. That narrative was then picked up by international media and presented as the mainstream view of Chinese audiences.
Earlier, the same source published another article hyping a separate controversy surrounding The Devil Wears Prada 2, this time involving a pair of embroidered shoes gifted to the cast at the Seoul premiere. The piece suggested the design was traditionally Chinese and should not be labeled as Korean, accusing Korea of cultural appropriation. Although this gift had nothing to do with the movie itself, it was dragged into the film’s potential box-office success, creating a storm in a teacup because controversial topics do well in terms of clicks.
Beyond the media’s role in fueling the current “Ching Chong” storm, there are other factors that help explain why this issue remained relatively limited before being amplified.
👉 The name itself is not necessarily offensive.
There is considerable confusion over the character’s name, which plays a key role in the controversy due to its alleged discriminatory connotations.
The Chinese subtitles render the name as Qin Zhou (秦舟), while in the scene it sounds more like ‘Jin Zhao,’ and the role is listed on IMDb as ‘Jin Chao.’ Others have suggested it sounds like ‘Chin Chou,’ which could resemble “Ching Chong.”
One of Weibo’s most influential movie-related accounts (@格兰芬多公共休息室) addressed the issue on April 19 by directly contacting the film’s translation team. According to their report, the correct name is ‘Jin Zhao,’ and the rendering as Qin Zhou (秦舟) appears to be a translation error.
In Chinese naming conventions, the family name comes first, meaning ‘Jin Zhao’ would be written as Zhao Jin (赵瑾)—a fairly standard and unremarkable name.
👉 Many Chinese would not immediately link this name to an offensive slur.
Not only is the character not actually named “ching chong,” the term itself originates as a mocking imitation of Chinese languages within an English-speaking context.
Although in today’s global media environment, many Chinese audiences are aware of the term, it is primarily understood as a form of English-language racism directed at Chinese-speaking people by outsiders, not as something rooted within Chinese linguistic or cultural contexts.
Interestingly, while English-language media reports suggest Chinese audiences are outraged, some Chinese commentators argue that much of the anger is actually coming from Korean and other international internet users. Chinese outlet Guancha even reported—in a now-deleted post—that the controversy itself was largely driven from outside China.
All of this has led to a situation where, despite a week of headlines describing “waves of netizen anger” and “boycotts sweeping the internet,” the “Ching Chong controversy” itself has not, at the time of writing, generated widespread outrage across Chinese social media platforms. Many related posts have received minimal engagement.
Although many viewers agree that the screenwriters might have chosen a more flattering name than Jin Chao or Jin Zhao, there is little to suggest this was deliberately intended as offensive, nor that it was widely interpreted as such by Chinese audiences.
The “Pocket Asian” Problem
However, this initial controversy has prompted many Chinese commenters to look beyond the name and focus on what they see as the real issue with Jin Zhao’s character. In the run-up to the film’s release, these discussions have been gaining traction online.
One Weibo commenter wrote:
💬 “Even if ‘Jin Chao’ and ‘Ching Chong’ don’t sound exactly the same, this Asian character’s portrayal really couldn’t be more outdated… it feels like the director has never seen what real Asian interns in the fashion industry are actually like.”

Another post asking users how they felt about the controversy received thousands of likes, with many commenters expressing disappointment over how the film’s most visible Asian character is portrayed.
This criticism seems to be widely shared. In a fashion-focused film, Jin Zhao stands out as the least fashionable—wearing a plaid shirt and skirt, hair pinned up, thick glasses—making her appear almost like a caricature among the surrounding “urban sophisticates.” For many viewers, this feels like a familiar stereotype that does not reflect the reality of today’s trendy Gen Z city girls.
A recurring sentiment is that while Hollywood—and companies like Disney, the film’s distributor—relies heavily on the Chinese market, Chinese audiences themselves feel they are not being taken seriously.
On April 22, Weibo author Jokielicious published a post (now with over 9,600 likes, 257 comments, and 773 shares) explaining the concept of the “Pocket Asian” (口袋亚洲人), an online slang term that has circulated for some time.
It refers to a type of physically small, non-threatening Asian character often seen on Western social media, where people jokingly describe Asian friends as “small enough to fit in your pocket.”
According to the author, this “Pocket Asian” is also a recurring figure in Hollywood films: typically subordinate to the white protagonist, often cast as an assistant or sidekick, embodying familiar stereotypes—comically awkward, unobtrusive, and non-threatening.
Although The Devil Wears Prada 2 has not yet been officially released in cinemas at the time of writing, assistant Jin Zhao is already seen by some as a textbook example of this trope: petite, deferential, yet also a hardworking overachiever.
In the promotional clip, she introduces herself by listing her credentials:
“If you don’t want me, you can interview someone else. That’s totally fine. I did go to Yale, 3.86 GPA, lead soprano of the Whiffenpoofs, and my ACT score was 36 on the very first time.”

According to Jokielicious, this fits the “Pocket Asian” mold perfectly: depicting Asian women as petite and cute, yet also toy-like or accessory-like, something to be “carried” or “used.” For critics, this goes beyond harmless “cuteness,” reducing a person to a racialized physical symbol: small, agreeable, and easily controlled.
One Weibo commenter (@霄林龙松兆) drew a historical parallel:
💬 “Does everyone remember the standard ‘dwarf’ figure in Elizabethan court dramas? Now this type of role has become a ‘symbolic dwarf,’ but the core function remains the same: obedient, somewhat intelligent and entertaining, small in stature, controllable—summoned at will and dismissed just as easily. The difference is that in the past it was a European dwarf; now it’s a different kind of ‘dwarf.’”
Other commenters pointed out that, with Anne Hathaway herself not being particularly tall (5’8” / 1.73 m), casting an Asian actress significantly smaller than her appeared to be a deliberate choice.
The issue raised by the Weibo blogger is far from new. In academic research, similar patterns have been discussed for decades—and they are not limited to female characters.
One of the most cited examples is the caricatured Japanese neighbor, Mr. Yunioshi, played by Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961), often cited as a quintessential stereotyped Asian comedic “outsider.” Other examples include Long Duk Dong in Sixteen Candles (1984), Data in The Goonies (1985), Yen (played by Shaobo Qin) in Ocean’s Eleven (2001), Ngoc Lan Tran in Downsizing (2017), Jian Yang in Silicon Valley, and Leslie Chow (Ken Jeong) in The Hangover (2009).

Across these roles, a familiar pattern emerges of the Asian sidekick figure, combining various stereotypes within a broader Western representational framework that “others” and exoticizes Asian characters.
Why The Devil Wears Prada 2 Hits a Nerve in China
Over the past years, there has been significant improvement in Hollywood and beyond when it comes to the representation of Asian characters. From Crazy Rich Asians to the Fresh Off the Boat, Asian and Asian American communities have increasingly been portrayed in more diverse and authentic ways.
Nevertheless, stereotyping and underrepresentation still persist across films, TV series, and commercials.
So why is The Devil Wears Prada 2 in particular igniting these discussions now?
Perhaps it is precisely because of what the film represents: a cosmopolitan, fashion-driven story about ambitious career women navigating elite professional spaces.
Most Chinese millennials did not see the original 2006 film in theaters, but through pirated DVDs bought at corner shops. Later on, Gen Z audiences discovered it via online platforms. Over time, The Devil Wears Prada carved out a special place in the Chinese market, particularly among urban, educated young women navigating career pressures. Its themes of workplace hierarchy, female ambition, and the tension between professional success and personal identity strongly resonated with younger generations.
The film’s fashion element was a key part of its appeal. At the time of its release, China was entering a period of rapid luxury brand expansion, and the film offered a glimpse into a global fashion world that still felt distant for many.

The cultural footprint of The Devil Wears Prada (known in Chinese as “The Queen Wears Prada” 穿普拉达的女王) is also evident in how its sequel is being marketed. China is treated as a primary market: the film is released a day earlier than in North America, the main stars attended the Shanghai premiere, Hathaway wore a Chinese designer, and promotions were tied to Vogue China.
But this is also where it stings.
China is a key market, and Chinese audiences in 2026 are not the same as they were in 2006. Today, Chinese cities are just as—if not more—fashionable, avant-garde, and cosmopolitan as New York or Paris.
So why include a character that the very same audiences you are trying to court may recognize as a stereotype of themselves? This creates a clear disconnect between marketing and content, helping explain why the reaction, whether amplified by media or not, has landed on fertile ground.
One Xiaohongshu user nicknamed ‘Momo’ wrote:
💬 “Despite pouring massive promotional efforts into Asia, the film still reveals outdated thinking in its portrayal. That’s disrespectful to its audience. I’m choosing not to watch it.”
Others echo similar sentiments, with some saying they will skip the film altogether.
Meanwhile, some internet users imagine a reversed scenario: what if Andy, the film’s protagonist, were Chinese or Asian, and her assistant American?

Others have also used AI tools to reimagine the film’s title as “The Racist Wears Prada.”

At the same time, discussions around the film remain mixed. Many viewers are still eagerly anticipating its release and revisiting the 2006 original, while others are more critical.
There are also commercial dynamics at play. Some entertainment bloggers—particularly Mengshen Mumu, who helped trigger the initial wave of reports—claim that the production side has filed complaints across Chinese social media platforms to remove certain critical posts. Weibo has, in fact, taken down at least one hashtag related to the controversy (#穿普拉达的女王2亚裔争议#).
To what extent these controversies will impact the film’s box office performance in China remains to be seen.
What is clear, however, is that these discussions reflect a broader and increasingly visible friction between Hollywood and Chinese audiences in the social media landscape of 2026. It is not just about whether China is represented, but how Chinese characters and cultural elements are integrated and portrayed. Chinese moviegoers are no longer a passive audience. They are increasingly proud, protective, and sensitive to the ways in which they are represented on screen.
As one commenter put it:
“We’re no longer content to be ‘Pocket Asians.’”
🎬 The Devil Wears Prada 2 will be released in Chinese cinemas nationwide on April 30.
-By Manya Koetse
With thanks to Miranda Barnes
Eye on Digital China, by Manya Koetse, is co-published on Substack and What’s on Weibo. Both feature the same new content — so you can read and subscribe wherever you prefer. Substack offers community features, while What’s on Weibo provides full archive access. If you’re already subscribed and want to switch platforms, just get in touch for help. If you no longer wish to receive these newsletters, or are receiving duplicate editions, you can unsubscribe at any time.
-
《穿普拉达的女王2》卷入辱华!亚裔角色造型刻板,名字恶意满满 / QQ News / April 18
↩ -
穿普拉达的女王2亚裔争议 刻板形象引众怒 / China.com / April 19
↩
Subscribe
Eye on Digital China is a reader-supported publication by
Manya Koetse (@manyapan) and powered by What’s on Weibo.
It offers independent analysis of China’s online culture, media, and social trends.
To receive the newsletter and support this work, consider
becoming a paid subscriber.

Get in touch
Have a tip, story lead, or book recommendation? Interested in contributing? For ideas, suggestions, or just a quick hello, reach out here.
My Mum Has Two Husbands: The OPPO Mother’s Day Fiasco and 7 Other Gender Marketing Fails in China
The AI Actor Debate, Tragedy in China’s “Fireworks Capital,” and the Viral Labubu Fridge
Quick Eye: AI Drama Takedowns, Meta’s Blocked Deal, and “Lying Flat” Conspiracy
Beyond the “Ching Chong” Controversy: The “Pocket Asian” in The Devil Wears Prada 2
Su Chao Fever, Mo Yan’s “Scrollable” Book, and Why Li Xiaoran is China’s New Office Icon
Inside Chunwan 2026: China’s Spring Festival Gala
Inside the Great Chinese Debate Over the Iran War
Spring Festival Trend Watch: Gala Highlights, Small-City Travel, and the Mazu Ritual Controversy
Two Sessions, a Celebrity Meltdown, and the Rise of China’s “Forget It” Mindset
The Fake Patients of Xiangyang: Hospital Scandal Shakes Welfare System Trust
Popular Reads
-
Chapter Dive10 months agoHidden Cameras and Taboo Topics: The Many Layers of the “Nanjing Sister Hong” Scandal
-
China Insight9 months ago“Jiangyou Bullying Incident”: From Online Outrage to Offline Protest
-
China Arts & Entertainment7 months agoThe Wong Kar-wai Scandal Explained: The Dark Side of ‘Blossoms Shanghai’
-
Chapter Dive11 months agoInside the Labubu Craze and the Globalization of Chinese Designer Toys
