How did a common park turn into a buzzing hotspot? By mixing online trends with real-life fun, blending foreign styles with local charm, and adding a dash of humor and absurdity, Chengdu now boasts its very own ‘Chengdu Disney’. We explain the trend.
– By Manya Koetse, co-authored by Ruixin Zhang
Have you heard about Chengdu Disney yet? If not, it’s probably unlike anything you’d imagine. It’s not actually a Disney theme park opening up in Chengdu, but it’s one of the city’s most viral hotspots these days.
What is now known as ‘Chengdu Disney’ all over the Chinese internet is actually a small outdoor park in a residential area in Chengdu’s Yulin area, which also serves as the local senior fitness activity center.
Crowds of young people are coming to this area to take photos and videos, hang out, sing songs, cosplay, and be part of China’s internet culture in an offline setting.
Once Upon a Rap Talent Show
The roots of ‘Chengdu Disney’ can be traced back to the Chinese hip-hop talent show The Rap of China (中国新说唱), where a performer named Nuomi (诺米), also known as Lodmemo, was eliminated by Chinese rapper Boss Shady (谢帝 Xièdì), one of the judges on the show.
Nuomi felt upset about the elimination and a comment made by his idol mentor, who mistakenly referred to a song Nuomi made for his ‘grandma’ instead of his grandfather. His frustration led to a viral livestream where he expressed his anger towards his participation in The Rap of China and Boss Shady.
However, it wasn’t only his anger that caught attention; it was his exaggerated way of speaking and mannerisms. Nuomi, with his Sichuan accent, repeatedly inserted English phrases like “y’know what I’m saying” and gestured as if throwing punches.
His oversized silver chain, sagging pants, and urban streetwear only reinforce the idea that Nuomi is trying a bit too hard to emulate the fashion style of American rappers from the early 2000s, complete with swagger and street credibility.
Lodmemo emulates the style of American rappers in the early 2000s, and he has made it his brand.
Although people mocked him for his wannabe ‘gangsta’ style, Nuomi embraced the teasing and turned it into an opportunity for fame.
He decided to create a diss track titled Xiè Tiān Xièdì 谢天谢帝, “Thank Heaven, Thank Emperor,” a word joke on Boss Shady’s name, which sounds like “Shady” but literally means ‘Thank the Emperor’ in Chinese. A diss track is a hip hop or rap song intended to mock someone else, usually a fellow musician.
In the song, when Nuomi disses Boss Shady (谢帝 Xièdì), he raps in Sichuan accent: “Xièdì Xièdì wǒ yào diss nǐ [谢帝谢帝我要diss你].” The last two words, namely “diss nǐ” actually means “to diss you” but sounds exactly like the Chinese word for ‘Disney’: Díshìní (迪士尼). This was soon picked up by netizens, who found humor in the similarity; it sounded as if the ‘tough’ rapper Nuomi was singing about wanting to go to Disney.
Nuomi and his diss track, from the music video.
Nuomi filmed the music video for this diss track at a senior activity park in Chengdu’s Yulin subdistrict. The music video went viral in late March, and led to the park being nicknamed the ‘Chengdu Disney.’
The particular exercise machine on which Nuomi performed his rap quickly became an iconic landmark on Douyin, as everyone eagerly sought to visit, sit on the same see-saw-style exercise machine, and repeat the phrase, mimicking the viral video.
What began as a homonym led to people ‘Disneyfying’ the park itself, with crowds of visitors flocking to the park, some dressed in Disney-related costumes.
This further developed the concept of a Chengdu ‘Disney’ destination, turning the park playground into the happiest place in Yulin.
Chengdu: China’s Most Relaxed Hip Hop Hotspot
Chengdu holds a special place in China’s underground hip-hop scene, thanks to its vibrant music culture and the presence of many renowned Chinese hip-hop artists who incorporate the Sichuan dialect into their songs and raps.
This is one reason why this ‘Disney’ meme happened in Chengdu and not in any other Chinese city. But beyond its musical significance, the playful spirit of the meme also aligns with Chengdu’s reputation for being an incredibly laid-back city.
In recent years, the pursuit of a certain “relaxed feeling” (sōngchígǎn 松弛感) has gained popularity across the Chinese internet. Sōngchígǎn is a combination of the word for “relaxed,” “loose” or “lax” (松弛) and the word for “feeling” (感). Initially used to describe a particular female aesthetic, the term evolved to represent a lifestyle where individuals strive to maintain a relaxed demeanor, especially in the face of stressful situations.
🌟 Attention!
For 11 years, What’s on Weibo has remained a 100% independent blog, fueled by my passion to write about China’s digital culture and online trends. Over a year ago, we introduced a soft paywall to ensure the sustainability of this platform. I’m grateful to all our loyal readers who’ve subscribed since 2022. Your support has been invaluable. But we need more subscribers to continue our work. If you appreciate our content and want to support independent China reporting, please consider becoming a subscriber. Your support keeps What’s on Weibo going strong!
The concept gained traction online in mid-2022 when a Weibo user shared a story of a family remaining composed when their travel plans were unexpectedly disrupted due to passport issues. Their calm and collected response inspired the adoption of the “relaxed feeling” term (also read here).
Central to embodying this sense of relaxation is being unfazed by others’ opinions and avoiding unnecessary stress or haste out of fear of judgment.
Nowadays, Chinese cities aim to foster this sense of sōngchígǎn. Not too long ago, there were many hot topics suggesting that Chengdu is the most sōngchí 松弛, the most relaxed city in China.
This sentiment is reflected in the ‘Chengdu Disney’ trend, which both pokes fun at a certain hip-hop aesthetic deemed overly relaxed—like the guys who showed up with sagging pants—and embraces a carefree, childlike silliness that resonates with the city’s character and its people.
Mocking sagging pants at ‘Chengdu Disney.’
Despite the influx of visitors to the Chengdu Disney area, authorities have not yet significantly intervened. Community notices urging respect for nearby residents and the presence of police officers to maintain order indicate a relatively hands-off approach. For now, it seems most people are simply enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.
Being Part of the Meme
An important aspect that contributes to the appeal of Chengdu Disney is its nature as an online meme, allowing people to actively participate in it.
Scenes from Chengdu Disney, images via Weibo.
China has a very strong meme culture. Although there are all kinds of memes, from visual to verbal, many Chinese memes incorporate wordplay. In part, this has to do with the nature of Chinese language, as it offers various opportunities for puns, homophones, and linguistic creativity thanks to its tones and characters.
The use of homophones on Chinese social media is as old as Chinese social media itself. One of the most famous examples is the phrase ‘cǎo ní mǎ’ (草泥马), which literally means ‘grass mud horse’, but is pronounced in the same way as the vulgar “f*ck your mother” (which is written with three different characters).
In the case of the Chengdu Disney trend, it combines a verbal meme—stemming from the ‘diss nǐ’ / Díshìní homophone—and a visual meme, where people gather to pose for videos/photos in the same location, repeating the same phrase.
Moreover, the trend bridges the gap between the online and offline worlds, as people come together at the Chengdu playground, forming a tangible community through digital culture.
The fact that this is happening at a residential exercise park for the elderly adds to the humor: it’s a Chengdu take on what “urban” truly means. These colorful exercise machines are a common sight in Chinese parks nationwide and are actually very mundane. Transforming something so normal into something extraordinary is part of the meme.
A 3D-printed model version of the exercise equipment featured in Nuomi’s music video.
Lastly, the incorporation of the Disney element adds a touch of whimsy to the trend. By introducing characters like Snow White and Mickey Mouse, the trend blends American influences (hip-hop, Disney) with local Chengdu culture, creating a captivating and absurd backdrop for a viral phenomenon.
For some people, the pace in which these trends develop is just too quick. On Weibo, one popular tourism blogger (@吴必虎) wrote: “The viral hotspots are truly unpredictable these days. We’re still seeing buzz around the spicy hot pot in Gansu’s Tianshui, meanwhile, a small seesaw originally meant for the elderly in a residential community suddenly turns into “Chengdu Disneyland,” catching the cultural and tourism authorities of Sichuan and even Shanghai Disneyland off guard. Netizens are truly powerful, even making it difficult for me, as a professional cultural tourism researcher, to keep up with them.”
Independently reporting China trends for over a decade. Like what we do? Support us and get the story behind the hashtag by subscribing:
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.
Manya is the founder and editor-in-chief of What's on Weibo, offering independent analysis of social trends, online media, and digital culture in China for over a decade. Subscribe to gain access to content, including the Weibo Watch newsletter, which provides deeper insights into the China trends that matter. More about Manya at manyakoetse.com or follow on X.
China is facing a serious donkey shortage. China’s donkey population is far below market demand, and the prices of donkey-related products continue to rise.
Recently, this issue went trending on Weibo under hashtags such as “China Currently Faces a Donkey Crisis” (#我国正面临缺驴危机#).
The Donkey Branch of China’s Livestock Association (中国畜牧业协会驴业分会) addressed this issue in Chinese media earlier last week, telling China News Weekly (中国新闻周刊): “We have plenty of cattle and horses in China now — just not enough donkeys” (“目前我国牛马都不缺,就缺驴”).
China’s donkey population has plummeted by nearly 90% over the past decades, from 11.2 million in 1990 to just 1.46 million in 2023.
The massive drop is related to the modernization of China’s agricultural industry, in which the traditional role of donkeys as farming helpers — “tractors” — has diminished. As agricultural machines took over, donkeys lost their role in Chinese villages and were “laid off.”
Donkeys also reproduce slowly, and breeding them is less profitable than pigs or sheep, partly due to their small body size.
Since 2008, Africa has surpassed Asia as the world’s largest donkey-producing region. Over the years, China has increasingly relied on imports to meet its demand for donkey products, with only about 20–30% of the donkey meat on the market coming from domestic sources.
China’s demand for donkeys mostly consists of meat and hides. As for the meat — donkey meat is both popular and culturally relevant in China, especially in northern provinces, where you’ll find many donkey meat dishes, from burgers to soups to donkey meat hotpot (驴肉火锅).
However, the main driver of donkey demand is the need for hides used to produce Ejiao (阿胶) — a traditional Chinese medicine made by stewing and concentrating donkey skin. Demand for Ejiaohas surged in recent years, fueling a booming industry.
China’s dwindling donkey population has contributed to widespread overhunting and illegal killings across Africa. In response, the African Union imposed a 15-year ban on donkey skin exports in February 2023 to protect the continent’s remaining donkey population.
As a result of China’s ongoing “donkey crisis,” you’ll see increased prices for donkey hides and Ejiao products, and oh, those “donkey meat burgers” you order in China might actually be horse meat nowadays. Many vendors have switched — some secretly so (although that is officially illegal).
Efforts are underway to reverse the trend, including breeding incentives in Gansu and large-scale farms in Inner Mongolia and Xinjiang.
China is also cooperating with Pakistan, one of the world’s top donkey-producing nations, and will invest $37 million in donkey breeding.
However, experts say the shortage is unlikely to be resolved in the short term.
The quote that was featured by China News Weekly — “We have cows and horses, but no donkeys” (“牛马有的是,就缺驴”) — has sparked viral discussion online, not just because of the actual crisis but also due to some wordplay in Chinese, with “cows and horses” (“牛马”) often referring to hardworking, obedient workers, while “donkey” (“驴”) is used to describe more stubborn and less willing-to-comply individuals.
Not only is this quote making the shortage a metaphor for modern workplace dynamics in China, it also reflects on the state media editor who dared to feature this as the main header for the article. One Weibo user wrote: “It’s easy to be a cow or a horse. But being a donkey takes courage.”
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.
On the evening of October 1st, National Day and the start of a week-long holiday, Nanchang was celebrating with a spectacular fireworks/drone show, drawing an enormous crowd of people (see video).
But the fireworks weren’t the only thing drawing attention. One man on Nanchang’s crowded Shimao Road caught bystanders’ eyes.
He was shirtless, strongly built with a visible tattoo, and was waving a pointed object while loudly shouting something that sounded like, “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”
At first, the people around him seemed unsure of what to do, keeping their distance and too afraid to approach. A large crowd formed but stayed back.
Then, a brave young man in red rushed forward and snatched the pointed object from his hand, while another young man leapt in with a flying kick that knocked him to the ground.
Several others then joined in, working together to restrain the man, as onlookers surrounded the scene and held him there until police arrived and took him to the station.
Soon, videos of the incident spread online (see video here), and rumors quickly surfaced that the man had been trying to attack people with a knife.
But that all turned out to be one major misunderstanding.
The next day, local police clarified what had actually happened, followed by an explanation from the man himself.
The man in question, a 31-year-old local second-hand car dealer named Li, had come to see the fireworks together with his family, including his sisters and three nephews.
Because of the very hot weather, he had taken off his shirt and was cooling himself with a 10-yuan folding fan he had just bought along the way.
After the show, while walking back, Li realized one of his nephews was missing and searched for him, calling out in his local dialect: “Where’s my kid? Where’s my kid?” (“我崽尼 我崽尼” wǒ zǎi ní).
Bystanders misheard this as “我宰你 我宰你” (wǒ zǎi nǐ, wǒ zǎi nǐ, “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you”) and mistook his folding fan for a machete.
Meanwhile, Li couldn’t understand why people around him were avoiding him and keeping their distance from him while he was searching for his nephew (see that moment here, also see more footage here). People were watching him, and recording the scene from a distance.
Before Li realized what was happening, the fan was snatched from his hands and he was violently kicked. A crowd swarmed him, beat him, and pushed him to the ground.
The police then detained him, and it wasn’t until the early hours of October 2, after thorough questioning, that he was finally released.
“I’m still confused about it,” Li said the next day. Holding the fan up to the camera, he asked: “Can a fan like this really scare people? I don’t understand — I just got beaten for nothing.”
Mr Li in his video, showing the fan he bought for 10RMB/$1.4 at the Nanchang fireworks.
Some commenters remarked that out of the 1.2 million people who were out in Nanchang that night, he was the only one injured.
Li seems to be doing ok apart from a sore backside and a puzzled mind, and his nephew apparently is also safe and well.
The bizarre misunderstanding has sparked widespread banter online, with people now referring to Li as “Nanchang Brother Fan” (南昌扇子哥).
“I’m dying of laughter. It’s both tragic and hilarious,” one Douyin user wrote, while others simply called the situation “so drama” (抓马 zhuāmǎ): “I’m not supposed to laugh, but I can’t help it.”
Some also noted that they understood why people at the scene mistook Li for a criminal: “At night, a guy with tattoos, holding a long stick-like object, shouting loudly all the way, what would you think?”
All joking aside, the public’s response on such a crowded night — when so many people gathered together, potentially making a tempting target for those with bad intentions — shows a heightened sense of vigilance. Unlike the U.S., where gun violence is more common, shootings are rare in China. But random stabbings have increasingly made headlines.
For Nanchang in particular, a stabbing incident that shocked the nation had taken place only weeks earlier: a 19-year-old woman was attacked and stabbed more than ten times by a 23-year-old man she did not know, and later died from her injuries.
But there have also been other recent cases, from Wuhan to Leiyang. And in 2024 especially, a spate of stabbing incidents shocked the country. In Wuxi, Jiangsu Province, a mass stabbing left eight people dead and 17 others injured.
The positive takeaway from this entire mix-up is that the quick action of the crowd — despite their wrong assessment of the situation — shows that people weren’t afraid to step in for the sake of public safety.
But others claim the exact opposite is true. Illustrator and commentator ‘Wu Zhiru’ (吴之如), former editor at Zhenjiang Daily, saw the incident as an example of toxic herd mentality. He posted an illustration of a fan being held up with the characters 清风徐来 (qīng fēng xú lái, “a cool breeze slowly blows”), an idiom to describe a pleasant atmosphere. A finger from the right points at the fan-holder, saying “Look, he’s gonna commit violence!” (“哇,他要行凶啦!”)
Wu Zhiru warns against panic-driven mob mentality and wonders why the first man, who snatched the “knife” from Li’s hands, did not stop the crowd from attacking Li as soon as he discovered that he had snatched away a fan and not a blade. Drawing historical parallels to the Cultural Revolution, Wu argues that people are sometimes so set on doing the “heroic” thing that they hesitate to correct misunderstandings once better information is available — a mindset that can lead to serious, harmful consequences.
For Li himself, despite the unfortunate night he had, the situation has actually brought him some unexpected fame and extra attention for his second-hand car dealership, which undoubtedly makes his boss happy (in a very recent livestream, Li was praised for being kind and loyal).
Many netizens also argued that the real lesson to draw from this ordeal is the importance of speaking proper standard Chinese. Some even framed the incident as “The Importance of Mandarin” (论普通话的重要性), pointing out that the whole problem began because Li was misunderstood while speaking dialect.
Image posted on Weibo in support of the “fan-waving brother.” The character on the fan says “tolerate.”
Others joked that the misunderstanding was just a grave injustice to shirtless men everywhere, writing: “From now on, the world has one less sincere guy who goes shirtless in the streets. He’ll never be the same again.”
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.
What’s on Weibo is a reader-supported publication, run by Manya Koetse (@manyapan), offering independent analysis of social trends in China for over a decade. To receive new posts and support our work, consider becoming a paid subscriber.