China Arts & Entertainment
China’s Woman Warrior Goes America Again: The Disneyfication of Mulan
The story of Mulan is ingrained in Chinese culture, but Disney has made her an international classic.
PREMIUM CONTENT ARTICLE
Ever since news came out that Disney would turn Mulan into a live-action movie the topic has been frequently popping up in the top trending lists on Chinese social media.
The movie has been especially top trending on Weibo this week since the official trailer was released.
Mulan is the much-anticipated live-action remake of Disney’s 1998 animated Mulan movie, which tells the story of the legendary female warrior Hua Mulan (花木兰) who disguises as a man to take her father’s place in the army.
Over recent years, Disney has released and announced the live-action adaptations of many of its animated classics. Remakes such as Cinderella (2015), The Jungle Book (2016), Beauty and the Beast (2017), Dumbo (2019), and Aladdin (2019), have all been successful and, besides Mulan, they are now being followed up by the remakes of The Lion King, The Little Mermaid, Lady and the Tramp, and The Hunchback of Notre Dame.
Disney’s new Mulan movie is directed by the New Zealand film director Niki Caro.
The role of Mulan will be played by the (mainland-born) Chinese American actress Crystal Liu Fei (刘亦菲). The film also features Yoson An as Mulan’s love interest, Tzi Ma as Mulan’s father, Donnie Yen as Mulan’s Commander mentor, Gong Li as the evil witch, Jason Scott Lee as the enemy warrior leader, and Jet Li as the Emperor of China.
MULAN: WEIBO MANIA AND CRITICISM
“Americans really have no idea about China.“
Since the story of Mulan is a Chinese legend that has a history of over 1500 years in China, Chinese audiences are particularly invested in the topic of the upcoming Disney movie. Every new detail concerning Mulan seems to become another trending topic on social media.
On Weibo, “Disney’s Mulan” (#迪士尼花木兰#) has seen over 420 million views by now, while the hashtag “Mulan Trailer” (#花木兰预告#) alone received a staggering 1.2 billion views.
Following the release of the movie poster made by Chinese visual artist Chen Man, the relating hashtag (#花木兰海报是陈漫拍的#) was viewed more than 260 million times.
A topic dedicated to the missing Mushu, a talking dragon that is the closest companion to Mulan in the animated film, also received 310 million views (#花木兰里没有木须龙#).
Online discussions on Mulan show that there already is quite a lot of criticism on the movie and its historical accuracy, even though its release is still months away.
Some commenters criticized Mulan’s makeup in one of the movie scenes as being too exaggerated and unflattering.
The fact that the actors in the movie all speak English also did not sit well with some people, writing: “Why is it all in English?!” and “I understand the logic, but why would a group of Chinese people speak English while it’s filmed in China? Even if it’s a Disney movie, it seems awkward.”
Another controversy that has been especially making its rounds for the past few days is the one relating to the traditional tulou round communal residences that are featured in the movie trailer (#花木兰 福建土楼#, 170 million clicks).
The tulou are Chinese rural, earthen dwellings. Although the buildings are part of Chinese traditional architecture, they are also unique to mountainous areas in Fujian province. Not only is Mulan not from Fujian, her story also takes place long before these tulou were built – something that many Chinese netizens find “nonsensical” and “distracting.”
“Americans really have no idea about China,” some people on Weibo commented, with others writing: “We can’t expect Disney to research everything, but they can’t not do research. They shouldn’t let Mulan live in a tulou just because it looks pretty, she is not from Fujian!”
“Why on earth would she live in a tulou,” others write: “Isn’t she a northerner?”
“Foreigners just don’t understand China,” one among thousands of commenters said.
Another Weibo user writes: “Americans should first thoroughly understand the Northern and Southern Dynasties, and Chinese geography, and Mulan’s ethnic background, and then they can give it another try.”
FROM SELF-SACRIFICE TO SELF-DISCOVERY
“The meaning of the story of Mulan varies depending on how it is told, when it is told, and by whom it is told.“
Although many people outside of China only know about Mulan through the 1998 Disney animation that made the story of this Chinese warrior go global, Hua Mulan’s story has seen continued popularity in China for more than a thousand years.
The first known written version of the Mulan legend is the anonymous sixth-century Poem of Mulan (木兰辞), followed by other plays and novels in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries (Edwards 2016, 19-20; Li 2018, 368).
Especially since the twentieth century, the story of Mulan has become a recurring theme in China’s popular culture, appearing in various plays, movies, TV series, operas, and even in games. Some of China’s earliest films were about Mulan; from 1927 to 1939, three different films came out on the female heroine, all titled Mulan Joins the Army (木兰从军).
“Mulan Joins the Army” is a 1939 Chinese historical war about the legend of Hua Mulan.
The meaning of the Mulan legend varies depending on how it is told, when it is told, and by whom it is told. The story has seen a centuries-long period of change and development, with different perspectives being presented depending on the region and genre (Kwa & Idema 2010, xii).
The basic outline of the story is always the same: Mulan is the daughter who disguises as a man to protect her father and take his place in the army, where she fights for twelve years before being promoted to a high-ranking position by the emperor. Mulan declines and asks for an honorable discharge instead, so she can return home to her family. Once she is home, Mulan changes into women’s clothing again.
Chastity, filial piety, feminism, perseverance, sacrifice, militarism, patriotism – the Mulan story has it all, but which motives are given prominence is always different. Within China, the Mulan narrative is related to issues of China’s national identity and political goals.
“Mulan: Rise of a Warrior” is a live-action film produced in mainland China in 2009.
In Chinese literary versions before the twentieth century, Mulan is presented as a northerner of uncertain ethnicity, a figure of resistance, who sacrifices her own safety to protect her father and show filial piety. Confucian values and the importance of family are at the core of the Mulan story (Edwards 2016, 19-20).
In Chinese versions after the twentieth century, Mulan is implicitly presented as being Han Chinese and as a “loyal patriot defending China.” The focus is no longer solely on Mulan giving up her own freedom for the sake of her father; it is her militarised sacrifice to the state and the importance of patriotism that is highlighted instead (ibid., 19-20).
With Disney’s 1998 adaptation of Mulan as an animated film, the main focus of the story was again shifted. Disney presented Mulan not so much as a patriot or as a Confucian daughter, but as a somewhat goofy and free-spirited young woman on her “Americanized self-realization journey” (Li 2018, 362-363).
Mulan’s individual coming of age and feminist story is echoed in the film’s Reflection song, in which Mulan sings:
“I am now
In a world where I have to hide my heart
And what I believe in
But somehow
I will show the world
What’s inside my heart
And be loved for who I am”
Although the narrative of the young woman who finds her own true voice resonated with many around the world – Mulan became an international box office smash hit -, it did not resonate with Chinese audiences.
In China, the Disney film grossed only about one-sixth of its expected box office income and was even among the lowest scoring big imported US films since 1994 (Li 2018, 362-363).
According to scholar Lan Dong, the Mulan flop in China indicated Disney’s failure to anticipate how the film would be received in China and how the Chinese audience’s familiarity with Mulan’s story had already shaped their expectations of the film (ibid.): Disney’s Mulan clearly was not the same as China’s Mulan.
THE DISNEYFICATION OF A CHINESE FOLK HEROINE
“The animated Mulan film clearly Disneyfied the story by playing into various American stereotypes of feudal China.“
But who is “China’s Mulan”? And who is “Disney’s Mulan”?
As described, Chinese versions of Mulan have significantly changed through times. And Disney’s Mulan of 2020 is also very different from the Disney princess that stole the hearts of viewers around the world in 1998.
Judging from the trailer, the upcoming Mulan will be a much more serious movie that focuses on the action and martial arts, and seems to represent Mulan as a self-sacrificing woman warrior (nothing goofy).
There’s an apparent risk in this route taken by Disney. On Chinese social media, the complaints about the movie relate mostly to the movie not being ‘Chinese’ enough when it comes to historical accuracy and language.
In English-language media, the movie is criticized for omitting the talking dragon and the songs and for “bowing to China’s nationalistic agenda” with its patriotic theme (Jingan Young in The Guardian, also see Vice).
The Disney company aims to entertain children and adults all around the world. In doing so, they convert “cultural capital” to “economic capital”1 and create content with universal appeal for global audiences, virtually always requiring commercial concessions to adapt to tastes and expectations of their mass audience.
Mulan merchandise, image via mouseinfo.com.
Since tastes and audience expectations change over time, it seems logical for Disney to make different choices for its Mulan feature film in 2020 than it did in 1998, and not only because the company might have learned from its past mistakes in mainland China. China’s role in the world, and how people view China, has also greatly changed over the past twenty years.
National cultures, stories, and legends go through a process of ‘Disneyfication’ once they became part of the Disney canon. The term ‘Disneyfication’ has been coined since the 1990s to describe this phenomenon and has been used in various ways since.
Speaking of globalization and literature, author David Damrosch (What is World Literature?, 2003) uses ‘Disneyfication’ to describe how many foreign literary works will only be translated and sold in the West when its content ‘fits’ the image audiences have of that certain culture. What remains is actually a ‘fake’ cultural product that holds up certain stereotypes and clichés in order to please the audience (Koetse 2010).
In the 1998 animated film, Mulan was clearly ‘Disneyfied’ by playing into various American values and stereotypes of feudal China that were most dominant at the time.
Although the upcoming Mulan movie will be very different from its animated predecessor, we already know that it will play with some of those stereotypes again in a way that you could call ‘market realistic’: viewers will see an English-speaking Mulan that lives in a traditional Fujian tulou building. Some of the sceneries and settings will have absolutely nothing to do with the authentic story, but much more to do with how viewers around the world now imagine China.
The movie will undoubtedly present folk heroine Mulan and ancient China in a way that is aesthetically pleasing and accessible, making Mulan and her story easy to understand, digest, and love.
WHOSE MULAN IS IT ANYWAY?
“For many Chinese viewers, Mulan has become ‘too American’, while foreign media criticize the film for being ‘too Chinese.’“
The irony in the criticism that has emerged over Disney’s Mulan recently, is that in the eyes of many Chinese viewers, Mulan has become ‘too American’, while foreign media criticize the production for being ‘too Chinese.’
This is by no means the first time the Disney company is under attack for the way in which it adapts local legends or stories into international feature films.
With Pocahontas, Disney was accused of “whitewashing horrific past,” the Moana movie was said to show “insensitivity to Polynesian cultures,” some critics found Aladdin to be “rooted by racism and Orientalism,” and recently, Disney’s choice to cast a black actress for the remake of The Little Mermaid triggered controversy for removing “the essence of Ariel.”
There are two sides to the controversial ‘Disneyfication’ coin. On the one hand, one could argue that some of the cultural value of the original local myths, legends, and stories are lost once they are transformed and simplified to satisfy mass market demand.
On the other hand, the Disney corporation also truly makes these local stories go global and in doing so, further adds to their cultural significance and worldwide recognition.
Mulan is now a Chinese legend that has gone beyond its borders and is no longer ‘truly Chinese’ – whatever that might mean. She has become a part of people’s childhood memories and popular culture in many countries around the world.
Just as The Little Mermaid no longer solely belongs to the realm of feudal Nordic folklore, Quasimodo no longer just exists in French literary canon, and just as Aladdin has become so much more than part of the The Thousand and One Nights, Mulan has also come to represent more than a Chinese folk heroine. She has become a world-famous woman warrior whose story will keep evolving for the years to come.
About the upcoming Mulan movie and its criticism, one Weibo commenter writes: “I find it hard to understand why people are so fussy. They have a problem with Mulan’s make-up, or with the fact that there’s no singing and no Mushu, or with the scenery. This is a movie. It can only stay close to the original work, but it will never be the original work.”
Luckily for Disney, many Chinese viewers are still very keen to watch the Mulan premiere despite – or perhaps thanks to – the ongoing controversies. The casting of Liu Fei as Mulan has also been met with praise and excitement.
Popular Weibo law blogger Kevin (@Kevin在纽约) writes: “On the first day that the trailer for Disney’s live-action Mulan was released, it had 175.1 million global views, making it the number two Disney adaption. The number one is The Lion King which had 224.6 global views [on its first day]. Although the Americans made Mulan live in a tulou, and made her speak English with a Chinese accent, it all won’t prevent Hua Mulan from having great success in 2020.”
Other netizens also agree, and they do not seem to mind sharing ‘their’ Mulan with the rest of the world.
“Some people are being too obstinate,” one female Weibo user writes in response to all the criticism: “This is the American Disney company, and all princesses speak English first. Jasmine in Aladdin also did not speak Arabic. I gather that in the film there will definitely be some subjective ideas or errors based on Western conceptions of China. As Chinese, we might find them misrepresentative or laughable. But from the trailer, I can already see that [this film] matches our esthetics and imagination. Most importantly, this film expresses the strength and beauty of Chinese women, and of women in general – that’s what matters.”
Discussions on Disney’s Mulan will certainly continue in the time to come. The movie is scheduled to be released in theatres on March 27 of 2020.
Too Chinese? Too American? Too Disneyfied? Too patriotic? Disney’s Mulan might not please all viewers. Fortunately, there are and will be dozens of other Mulan versions providing viewers and readers with new and different perspectives on the centuries-old legend. But who is the ‘real’ Mulan in the end? We’ll probably never know.
By Manya Koetse
1 (Harris 2005, 50).
Dong, Lan. 2010. Mulan’s Legend and Legacy in China and the United States. Bibliovault OAI Repository, the University of Chicago Press.
Edwards, Louise. 2016. “The Archetypal Woman Warrior, Hua Mulan: Militarising Filial Piety.” In: Women Warriors and Wartime Spies of China, pp. 17-39.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Harris, David. 2005. Key Concepts in Leisure Studies. SAGE Key Concepts. London: SAGE Publications Ltd.
Koetse, Manya. 2010. “The Imagined Space of Chinatown: An Amsterdam Case Study.” Leiden University, https://www.manyakoetse.com/the-imagined-space-of-chinatown/ [July 12, 2019].
Kwa, Shiamin and Wilt I. Idema (eds). 2010. Mulan: Five Versions of a Classic Chinese Legend with Related Texts.” Indianapolis/Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company.
Li, Jing. 2018. “Retelling the Story of a Woman Warrior in Hua Mulan (花木兰, 2009): Constructed Chineseness and the Female Voice.” Marvels & Tales 32 (2): 362-387.
Young, Jingan. 2019. “The Mulan trailer is a dismal sign Disney is bowing to China’s nationalistic agenda.” The Guardian, July 8 https://www.theguardian.com/film/2019/jul/08/mulan-trailer-is-a-dismal-sign-disney-is-bowing-to-china-anti-democratic-agenda [July 12, 2019].
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China Memes & Viral
Weibo Watch: Going the Wrong Way
About how one delivery driver’s plea for leniency shed light on challenges and struggles faced by millions of food delivery workers, and more must-know trends.
PREMIUM NEWSLETTER | ISSUE #35
This week’s newsletter:
◼︎ 1. Editor’s Note – Going the wrong way
◼︎ 2. What’s New and Noteworthy – A closer look at featured stories
◼︎ 3. What’s Trending – Hot highlights
◼︎ 4. What’s Noteworthy – Young woman’s lonely death in rented apartment
◼︎ 6. What’s Popular – Fan Zhendong’s pluche toys
◼︎ 7. What’s Memorable – Ren Zhiqiang’s Weibo exit
◼︎ 8. Weibo Word of the Week – Fandom-ization
Dear Reader,
“Apology! Apology!” Dozens of delivery drivers chanted, standing together in front of Hangzhou’s Xixi Century Square. The group of workers, mostly men, had gathered in front of the complex after learning about an incident that took place just hours earlier.
One of their colleagues, a young delivery driver for the Meituan platform named Wang, had accidentally damaged a fence while trying to enter the complex to deliver a food order on August 12. The security guard stopped him and allegedly demanded 200 yuan ($28) in compensation. Onlookers captured a video showing Wang kneeling before the guard, pleading for leniency. He could not afford the fee nor the kerfuffle—it was peak lunch hour, and he needed to deliver his order on time.
The image that went viral on the afternoon of August 12.
The incident immediately went viral in WeChat groups.1 The image of the delivery driver on his knees, hands in his lap, helplessly looking up at the security guard, resonated with many delivery workers, sparking anger. Members of the delivery community decided to gather at the scene and protest the way their colleague had been treated.
As more delivery drivers arrived, tensions escalated (video). At least twenty police officers, including a specialized police unit, were called in to deescalate the situation, and the security guard was rushed away for his own safety.
That same night, local authorities issued a notification about the incident, urging people to remain calm and show more tolerance and understanding during these blazing hot summer days.
But the simmering tension beneath the surface runs deeper than just the summer heat.
In recent years, many viral videos have captured the hardships faced by Chinese food delivery workers, who endure scorching heat, heavy rain, and thunderstorms to deliver their orders. On August 21, a delivery driver in Pingyang collapsed while picking up a food order at a restaurant but insisted on completing the delivery (he was eventually taken to the hospital by ambulance). Other videos on platforms like Douyin show delivery riders breaking down during work.
The pressure they face is real, and the work they do is intense. China’s main food delivery platforms, Meituan and Ele.me, backed by tech giants Tencent and Alibaba, employ a combined 10 million delivery drivers. Their daily work is monitored by algorithmic management tools. The workload is high, the overwork is severe, the income is low, and the conditions are often unsafe.
Most of these workers are lower-educated migrant workers from rural areas who were already in vulnerable positions before taking these jobs. They face challenges such as limited job opportunities, inadequate medical care, poor nutrition, and sometimes language barriers or social alienation in China’s urban jungle.2 The digital control makes their work stressful—a late order or bad review can cost them income.
Recent studies show that these factors make China’s food delivery drivers highly susceptible to anxiety and depression. One study focusing on urban delivery drivers in Shanghai found that 46% of the drivers surveyed reported anxiety symptoms, and 18% experienced depression.3
While the recent Hangzhou incident and other viral moments have drawn attention to the stressful working conditions and weak social status of China’s food delivery workers, a new Chinese movie presents a different perspective on the gig economy.
One of the movie posters for Upstream (2024).
Upstream “逆行人生” (Nìxíng Rénshēng), a movie by director and star actor Xu Zheng (徐峥), was released on August 9. The story revolves around former programmer Gao Zhilei—played by Xu himself—who loses his job and savings. To support his family and ill father, he takes up a job as a delivery worker to survive.
The Chinese title of the movie, 逆行人生, translates to “a life against the current.” The term 逆行 (nìxíng) literally means ‘to go the wrong way’ or ‘to move in the opposite direction,’ and it has been translated as ‘upstream’ in this case. Since early 2020, Chinese state media have used the term 逆行者 nìxíngzhě, “those going against the tide” to refer to frontline workers and everyday heroes who made significant contributions or sacrifices for society, particularly during the pandemic or in emergencies such as forest fires.
Although Upstream does highlight some of the struggles faced by Chinese gig workers, it is largely a feel-good movie that avoids a deeper exploration of the marginalized status and precarious work conditions of gig workers. The title and story align with the narrative promoted by official media about China’s food delivery workers, especially during the pandemic when their work was extra demanding. Instead of lobbying for better labor conditions, they are praised as heroic and altruistic; as noble national heroes who act for the greater good. As one driver quoted in a study by Hui Huang put it: “They treat us as heroes in the media, but as slaves in reality.”4
This sentiment also plays a role in the public’s reception of Upstream, as discussed in a recent article by Sixth Tone. Many feel that the film exploits the struggles of China’s gig workers for entertainment and profit rather than genuinely advocating for their rights and well-being. Turning such harsh realities into a feel-good narrative is seen by some as “the wrong way” rather than “upstream.” Some have even described it as “rich people acting poor and making the poor pay for it.”
One Zhihu user placed the actual film poster next to an alternative version featuring delivery driver Wang in a vulnerable, knee-down position, which powerfully symbolizes how many delivery drivers perceive their weak status in society. The official poster says, “August 9 – auspicious/timely delivery,” while the alternative poster states, “August 12 – delivery not possible.”
Photo uploaded by 芒果味跃迁引擎 on Zhihu
However, there is an upside to the heightened attention on China’s food delivery workers: increased awareness. For example, the absurdity of relying on algorithms for their work is now sparking important discussions.
Delivery algorithms put pressure on riders by calculating precise delivery times based on ideal conditions, leaving little room for traffic delays, staircases, extreme weather, or restaurant preparation times. Riders can get caught in “algorithm traps” (算法陷阱) because the faster they work, the stricter the algorithm tightens delivery windows, and they may face penalties or reduced earnings if they fail to meet the expected times.
The fact that, through Upstream and the Hangzhou incident, people are now acknowledging the pressure that Meituan and Ele.me drivers face under such digital systems is already a big improvement from 2019, when debates centered on whether or not you should say “thank you” to acknowledge the service provided by delivery drivers.
“Maybe some parts of this film don’t fully connect with reality,” author Yan Lingyang (晏凌羊) wrote on Weibo about Upstream: “But under the current system, I think it’s already quite daring. It reflects various issues such as the economic downturn, housing bubbles, corporate burnout [involution], low wages for grassroots workers, lack of rights protection, and algorithm traps.”
Chinese blogger Cui Zijian (崔紫剑) recently also spoke out against the exploitation of drivers by platform companies, arguing that algorithms should be improved and suggesting that delivery riders be included in unions.
While the reception of Upstream and the Hangzhou delivery driver protest might seem to indicate that things are going the wrong way, the increased awareness actually points in the right direction—toward greater understanding of the challenging situation faced by millions of workers.
I’d love to dive deeper into topics such as these that are so relevant in everyday society and show how digital platforms impact the lives of people. Since I’m always reporting the latest trends, it often leaves little room for the more in-depth articles and overviews I’d love to write for you about the issues behind China’s hot topics & tech developments. Because of this, I’ve decided to gradually shift my focus toward deeper dives instead of shorter trend articles for What’s on Weibo. I’ll still provide timely updates on the latest trends through the Weibo Watch newsletter. I’m currently brainstorming how to make this transition, and I’ll keep you involved as I work on continuing to deliver insightful content. Finding the right balance between covering current trends and providing more contextual analyses can be challenging, but I can’t complain—thankfully, no algorithms are chasing me.
Miranda Barnes has contributed to the compilation and interpretation of the topics featured in this week’s newsletter. Ruixin Zhang has authored the insightful fan culture article, and contributed to the word of the week. As always, if you have any observations or ideas you’d like to share, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me.
Best,
Manya Koetse
(@manyapan)
1 The initial story that went viral in WeChat groups (links of screenshots) claimed that the delivery driver was a woman, and that the security guard had forced her to kneel. This detail intensified the outrage. However, it was later revealed that the driver was actually a thin, male worker who knelt voluntarily, in hopes of speeding up the process.
2 See Peng, Yuxun, et al., “Status and Determinants of Symptoms of Anxiety and Depression among Food Delivery Drivers in Shanghai, China,” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 19, no. 20 (2022): 1; and Hui Huang, “Riders on the Storm: Amplified Platform Precarity and the Impact of COVID-19 on Online Food-delivery Drivers in China,” Journal of Contemporary China 31, no. 135 (2022): 351, 363.
3 See Peng, Yuxun, et al., “Status and Determinants of Symptoms of Anxiety and Depression among Food Delivery Drivers in Shanghai, China,” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 19, no. 20 (2022): 10.
4 See Huang Hui, “Riders on the Storm: Amplified Platform Precarity and the Impact of COVID-19 on Online Food-delivery Drivers in China,” Journal of Contemporary China 31, no. 135 (2022): 363.
What’s New
Ping Pong Fandom | The table tennis final between Chen Meng and Sun Yingsha in Paris exposed troubling fan dynamics, sparking discussions on the clash between fandom culture & the Olympic spirit. Read our latest on the influence of fandom culture in Chinese table tennis 🏓 🔗
The Big Olympic File | Before the Paralympics will start on August 28, time to reflect on what happened during the Olympics. We reported and wrapped it up! Capturing all the must-know medals and online discussions happening on the sidelines of the Olympics, here’s the What’s on Weibo China at Paris 2024 Olympic File.
Medals and Memes | The 2024 Paris Olympics captivated Chinese social media, not just for the gold medal victories but also for the many moments that unfolded on the sidelines. Here are the 10 most popular ones.
The Human Bone Controversy | Chinese online media was flooded with 404 errors earlier this month as many of the articles published about the human bone scandal—where the Chinese company Shanxi Aorui illegally acquired thousands of corpses to produce bone graft materials sold to hospitals—were taken offline. From 2015-2023, Shanxi Aorui forged body donation registration forms and other documents to purchase corpses from hospitals, funeral homes and crematoriums to produce bone implant materials sold to hospitals.
What’s Trending
🐒 Black Myth Wukong
A Chinese game that has been in development for over four years is top trending on Weibo this week. More than that: it’s a national sensation. Black Myth: Wukong (黑神话悟空) was officially released on August 20, surpassing all expectations. Within an hour of its release, it topped the “Most Played” list on Steam, with over 2 million concurrent players.
Developed by Game Science, a startup founded by former Tencent employees, Black Myth: Wukong draws inspiration from the classic Chinese novel Journey to the West. This epic tale, filled with heroes and demons, follows the supernatural monkey Sun Wukong as he accompanies the Tang dynasty monk Xuanzang on a pilgrimage to India to obtain Buddhist sūtras (holy scriptures). The game focuses on Sun Wukong’s story after this journey. Black Myth: Wukong has been such a massive success that anything associated with it is also going viral—a merchandise collaboration with Luckin Coffee sold out instantly.
🥇 Olympic Heroes Hailed at Home
China’s Olympic champions, including Quan Hongchan (全红婵), who we also discussed in our last newsletter, have received warm welcomes home as their hometowns were transformed into temporary pilgrimage sites, complete with medal ceremonies and huge posters. There have been many touching moments during the champions’ return. For example, Boxing Gold medalist Wu Yu jumped into her mom’s arms and cried like a little kid after returning from her Paris adventure.
In addition to the warm receptions in their hometowns, the champions were also honored in Beijing at the Great Hall of the People, where Xi Jinping met with the athletes on August 20 and praised them for their performance and sportsmanship throughout the Paris Games. A related hashtag has garnered 360 million views on Weibo ( #中国体育代表团总结大会举行#)
🚨 Magic Carpet Ride Gone Wrong
The “magic carpet ride” at the popular Detian Waterfall scenic area in Guangxi’s Chongzuo drew significant attention on social media earlier this month after a malfunction led to tragic consequences. This attraction, designed to transport visitors up the mountain as they sit backward on a moving belt, suddenly malfunctioned on August 10, causing passengers to slide uncontrollably downwards (here you can see how the attraction normally operates).
The accident resulted in one tourist’s death and injuries to 60 others. A joint investigation team was established to determine the cause of the incident. Preliminary findings suggest that a steel buckle at the belt’s joint broke, causing the belt to rapidly slide downward. With passengers spaced about a meter apart on the conveyor belt, the sudden movement led to collisions, with some individuals being crushed, particularly at the lower end. Those responsible for the attraction’s operation and maintenance have been detained in accordance with the law for their roles in the incident, which will be further investigated.
🍵 Eileen Gu Controversy
Whether it’s her athletic career or personal life, Eileen Gu (谷爱凌) always seems to find herself trending in China. The American-born freestyle skier and gold medalist who represented China at the 2022 Beijing Olympics sparked discussions during the Paris Olympics due to her connection with Léon Marchand, the renowned French Olympic swimmer. Marchand faced significant backlash on Chinese social media after being accused of ignoring a handshake from Team China’s coach Zhu Zhigen (朱志根). A brief video of the incident went viral, showing the Chinese coach approaching Marchand to congratulate him, only for Marchand to seemingly ignore him and walk away.
Amid the controversy, netizens noticed that Gu, who had previously interacted with Marchand online, deleted her comments on his Instagram, including a compliment on his latest Olympic victory (“incredible”) (#谷爱凌删了给马尔尚的所有ins评论#). However, when videos surfaced of Gu dancing closely with Marchand, she was accused of being two-faced or insincere. While some initially saw her deletion of the interactions as a patriotic gesture, many now believe she was simply being opportunistic.
But Gu is clapping back at her haters, suggesting that she can never please everyone. When someone called her out for being “a traitor” to her country, Gu reportedly replied, “Which one?” The issue of Gu’s nationality has been a somewhat sensitive topic since she first represented China, with many questioning whether she holds a Chinese or American passport (as China does not recognize dual nationality). Gu’s previous statement, “I’m American when in the US and Chinese when in China,” has also triggered dissatisfaction among Chinese audiences. On Instagram, she has now confronted her haters: “In the past five years, I’ve won 39 medals representing China and spoken out for China and women on the world stage. What have the haters done for the country?”
💍 New Marriage Rules
A revised draft regulation on marriage registration introduced by China’s Ministry of Civil Affairs last week has sparked significant online discussion. One notable change is that couples will no longer need their hukou, or household register, to get married. Traditionally, this document is often held by parents, meaning that those who wish to marry had to obtain it—essentially seeking parental approval. By removing this requirement, the process is simplified, giving individuals more freedom to marry, even if their parents disagree.
However, the draft regulation is drawing criticism, primarily due to the inclusion of a 30-day cooling-off period for divorce. This cooling-off period (“冷静期”) allows either party to withdraw their divorce application within 30 days of filing. Although introduced in a draft as early as 2018, it continues to generate debate. Many feel that while the revision appears to grant more freedom in marriage, it restricts the freedom to divorce in a timely manner. Some say this is like a “loose entry, strict exit” (宽进严出) policy, similar to Chinese university admissions. One popular comment called it “fake freedom.” The draft regulation is open for public feedback until September 11.
🚴 Discussions over Cycling Boy’s Death
A tragic incident in Hebei has sparked significant online discussions. In Rongcheng County, an eleven-year-old boy who was cycling with his father in a group of cyclists fell down and was run over by a car coming from the opposite direction. A dashcam video captured the group riding in the middle of the road, leaving the oncoming vehicle with little room or time to avoid the collision. The boy succumbed to his injuries shortly after the accident.
The incident has led to broader debates about the father’s responsibility. According to road safety laws, the eleven-year-old should not have been cycling on a public road, especially not in the middle of it. The situation is further complicated by reports that people had previously warned the father about the dangers of bringing his young son on high-speed cycling trips, warnings which he allegedly ignored. Although the father initially attempted to shift the blame onto the driver for speeding, public opinion has largely condemned him for being irresponsible, with devastating consequences.
🇨🇳 Chinese Flag Controversy
A hotel in Paris, part of a Taiwanese chain, became the center of online attention this August after it failed to include the Chinese flag in its Olympic-themed decorations. The issue was brought to light by a Chinese influencer who posted a video accusing the Evergreen Laurel Hotel (长荣桂冠酒店) of refusing to display the Chinese flag, even after the influencer offered to provide one. The incident sparked significant backlash, leading domestic travel platforms like Ctrip and Meituan to delist the hotel’s booking options, including those at its Shanghai location. The hotel eventually issued an apology, but many netizens found it too vague, as it did not directly address the flag incident, instead focusing on general dissatisfaction with their decorations. The Chinese Embassy in France has since commented on the issue, expressing support for Chinese people, both at home and abroad, in their efforts to “remain united and uphold patriotic values.”
What’s Noteworthy
The WeChat account Zhenguan (贞观) reported on August 16 about a tragic incident involving a 33-year-old woman from a small, impoverished village in Ningxia who died alone in her rented 30th-floor apartment in Xi’an. Her body was not discovered for a long time, and by the time it was found, it had decomposed to the point of being unrecognizable. In the article, titled “A Women From Out of Town Died in the Apartment I Rented Out” (“一个外地女孩，死在了我出租的公寓”), which has since been deleted, a landlord shares their story of how they discovered the single young woman had died inside the studio apartment. The article paints a picture of a once-bright rural girl who became disillusioned as the competitive educational system and the pressures of city life crushed her spirit. The woman, who depended on her family’s financial support, hadn’t ordered or cooked any food for nearly twenty days since she was last seen in May, suggesting she most likely starved to death in her apartment.
The article quickly went viral over the weekend. The incident, which allegedly took place during the summer, resonated with people as they began filling in the gaps of the story with their own interpretations. They felt for the woman, who had worked hard in life but had found herself unable to live up to expectations. Some saw the young woman’s story as a tragic reflection of the struggles in contemporary Chinese society. Some blamed city life, others blamed rural culture. But many also doubted the story’s authenticity.
After Chinese media outlets like Zhengzai Xinwen (正在新闻) began investigating the matter, it was revealed that some details in the story were inaccurate. The incident did not occur in Xi’an but in Xianyang. People from the woman’s hometown mentioned that she was socially withdrawn and may have struggled with mental health issues, though she was never formally diagnosed. Local police did confirm that the incident is real and that it is still under investigation by a local branch of the Xianyang Public Security Bureau. Regardless of the exact circumstances, the woman’s story has struck a chord, with one popular comment on Weibo stating: “There are countless others like her in society who are experiencing the same struggles. No matter what you’re going through, I hope you don’t give up on life.”
What’s Popular
This summer’s Olympic fever in China has been evident across various e-commerce platforms. Whether it was the sudden popularity of Zheng Qinwen’s tennis skirt or the craze over diver Quan Hongchan’s ugly animal slippers, Chinese consumers have eagerly embraced Olympic-themed shopping.
Recognizing the influence of athletes during and after the Olympics, brands have tapped into their potential by launching various collaborations. A particularly successful example is the plush paddles endorsed by Olympic table tennis star Fan Zhendong (樊振东). The 27-year-old national table tennis player, often referred to as the “National Ping Pong God” (国乒男神), not only clinched double gold in Paris but also endorses several brands, including the British Jellycat brand, which created the plush paddle toys.
One popular video shows Fan playing table tennis with the plush paddle toy, which quickly sold out after his Olympic victory. The toy was restocked twice in three days before selling out again. Many commenters praised the toy for being so cute, and in light of Wang Chuqin’s now-famous broken paddle incident, others joked that it’s a good thing the plush paddles are unbreakable.
What’s Memorable
China’s well-known political and social commentator Hu Xijin (胡锡进) has been noticeably absent from Chinese social media for about a month. The former editor-in-chief of the Global Times has not posted on his account since July 27—an extraordinary, unannounced, and unexplained pause from his typically daily social media activity. In light of Hu’s sudden silence, we take a look back eight years into the What’s on Weibo archive, when another social media commentator and real estate tycoon, Ren Zhiqiang (任志强), abruptly went silent, and his account subsequently disappeared.
Weibo Word of the Week
Fan Cultured | Our Weibo word of the week is ‘fan-cultured’ or ‘fandom-ization’ (fànquānhuà 饭圈化). While fànquān 饭圈 literally means “fan circle,” the suffix huà 化 is generally used to indicate a process of transformation or turning into something, similar to the “-ization” suffix in English.
The term fànquānhuà 饭圈化 refers to the recently much-discussed phenomenon where something—often outside the realms of entertainment—receives passionate support from people who begin to form online fan circles around it, changing the dynamics in ways that resemble the relationships between celebrity idols and their fans.
A recent example of something being “fan-cultured” or “fandom-ized” is how fans have started to form extremely strong communities around China’s table tennis stars, defending them as if they were idols. This fan behavior has been criticized by Chinese authorities, who see it as toxic fan culture that goes against the Olympic spirit (read more).
But “fandom-ization” goes beyond sports. There are also strong fan club dynamics surrounding Chinese pandas. Even inanimate objects can become “fan-cultured.” For example, the Little Forklift Truck (小叉车) that was part of the construction of the Huoshenshan emergency specialty field hospital during the early days of the Covid crisis. The construction process was live-streamed, and millions of viewers found the little truck—working tirelessly around the clock—so cute and brave that it became “fan-cultured.”
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China Arts & Entertainment
The Rising Influence of Fandom Culture in Chinese Table Tennis
The match between Sun Yingsha and Chen Meng in Paris highlighted how the fan culture surrounding Chinese table tennis can clash with the Olympic spirit.
During the Paris Olympics, not a day went by without table tennis making its way onto Weibo’s trending lists. The Chinese table tennis team achieved great success, winning five gold medals and one silver.
However, the women’s singles final on August 3rd, between Chinese champions Chen Meng (陈梦) and Sun Yingsha (孙颖莎), took viewers by surprise due to the unsettling atmosphere. The crowd overwhelmingly supported Sun Yingsha, with little applause for Chen Meng, and some hurled insults at her. Even the coaching staff had stern expressions after Chen’s win.
This bizarre scene sparked heated discussions on Chinese social media, exposing the broader audience to the chaotic and sometimes absurd dynamics within China’s table tennis fandom.
“I welcome fans but reject fandom culture.”
When Sun Yingsha and Chen Meng faced off in the women’s singles final, the medal was destined for ‘Team China’ regardless of the outcome; the match should have been a celebration of Chinese table tennis.
However, the match held significant importance for both Sun and Chen individually. Chen Meng, the defending champion from the previous Olympics, was on the verge of making history by retaining her title. Meanwhile, Sun Yingsha, an emerging star who had already claimed singles titles at the World Cup and World Championships, was aiming to complete a career Grand Slam (World Championships, World Cup, and Olympics).
[center] Announcement of the Chen (L) vs Sun (R) match by People’s Daily on social media.[/center]
Sun Yingsha has clearly become a public favorite. On Weibo, the table tennis star ranked among the most beloved athletes in popularity lists.
This favoritism among Chinese table tennis fans was evident at the venue. According to reports from a Chinese audience member, anyone shouting “Go Chen Meng!” (“陈梦加油”) was quickly silenced or booed, while even cheering “Come on China!” (“中国队加油”) was met with ridicule. After Chen Meng’s 4-2 victory, many in the audience expressed their frustration and chanted “refund” during the award ceremony. Meanwhile, social media was flooded with hateful posts cursing Chen for winning the match.
For many who were unfamiliar with the off-court drama, the influence of fandom culture on the Olympics was shocking. However, in the world of Chinese table tennis, such extreme fan behavior has been brewing for some time. Even during the eras of Ma Long (马龙) and Zhang Jike (张继科), there were already fans who would turn against each other and others.
This year’s men’s singles champion, Fan Zhendong (樊振东), had long noticed the growing influence of fandom culture. In recent years, he has repeatedly voiced his discomfort with fan activities like “airport send-offs” and “fan meet-and-greets.” Earlier this year, he took to social media to reveal that he and his loved ones were being harassed by both overzealous fans and haters, and that he was considering legal action. He made it clear: “I welcome fans but reject fandom culture.” His consistent stance against fandom has helped cultivate a relatively rational fan base.
“What has happened to Chinese table tennis fans over the years?”
On Weibo, a blogger (@3号厅检票员工) posed a question that struck a chord with many, garnering over 30,000 likes: “What has happened to Chinese table tennis fans over the years?”
In the comments, many blamed Liu Guoliang (刘国梁) for fueling the fan culture around table tennis. Liu, the first Chinese male player to achieve the Grand Slam, retired in 2002 and then became a coach for the Chinese table tennis team. His coaching career has been highly successful, leading players like Ma Long and Xu Xin (许昕) to numerous championships.
Beyond coaching, Liu has been dedicated to commercializing table tennis. Compared to international tournaments in sports like tennis or golf, the prize money for Chinese table tennis players is only about one-tenth of those sports. Fan Zhendong has publicly stated on Weibo that the prize money for their competitions is too low compared to badminton. Liu believes table tennis has significant untapped commercial potential that has yet to be fully realized.
Under Liu’s leadership, the commercialization of the Chinese table tennis team began after the Rio Olympics, where China won all four gold medals. Viral internet memes like “Zhang Jike, wake up!” (继科你醒醒啊) and “The chubby guy who doesn’t understand the game” (不懂球的胖子) made both the sport and its athletes wildly popular in China.
Seeing the opportunity, Liu quickly increased the team’s exposure, encouraging players to create Weibo accounts, do live streams, star in films, and participate in variety shows. This approach rapidly turned the Chinese table tennis team into a “super influencer” in the Chinese sports world.
While this move has certainly increased the athletes’ visibility, it has also drawn criticism: is this kind of commercialization and celebrity status the right path for China’s table tennis? Successful commercialization requires a mature system for talent selection, team building, and athlete management. However, the selection process in Chinese table tennis remains opaque, the current team-building system shows little promise, and young athletes struggle to break through.
Additionally, athlete management appears amateurish. After watching an interview with Chinese tennis player Zheng Qinwen (郑钦文), a Douban netizen commented that Liu Guoliang’s plan for commercializing athletes is highly unprofessional—relying mainly on their personal charisma to attract attention. The most common criticism is that Liu and the Table Tennis Association should let professionals handle the professional work. Without a solid foundation for commercialization, the current focus on hype and marketing in Chinese table tennis may temporarily boost ticket sales but could ultimately backfire.
“Didn’t you say you want to crack down on fan culture?”
In response to the controversy surrounding the Chen vs. Sun match, the Beijing Daily published an article titled “How Can We Allow Fandom Violence to Disturb the World of Table Tennis?” The article addressed the growing problem of “fandom culture” infiltrating table tennis, a trend that originated in the entertainment world. It highlighted how extreme fan behavior, including online abuse and disruptive actions during matches, harms both the sport and the mental well-being of athletes. While fan enthusiasm is important, the article stressed that it must remain within rational limits.
This article foreshadowed actions taken shortly after. On August 7th, China’s Ministry of Public Security announced an online crackdown on chaotic sports-related fan circles. Social media platforms responded swiftly: Weibo deleted over 12,000 posts and banned more than 300 accounts, while Xiaohongshu, Bilibili, and Migu Video removed over 840,000 posts and banned or muted more than 5,300 accounts.
The campaign against fan culture sparked online debate. Some netizens criticized the official stance on “fandom” as overly simplistic. The Chinese term for “fandom,” 饭圈 (fànquān), contains a homophone for “fan,” referring to enthusiastic supporters of celebrities. In contemporary Chinese discourse, the term is often linked to the idol industry and carries negative, gender-biased connotations, particularly towards “irrational female fans chasing male idols.”
One Weibo post argued that commercialized sports, like football, are inherently tied to fan loyalty, belonging, and exclusivity. Disruptions among fans are not solely due to “fandom” but are often influenced by larger forces, such as capital or authorities. In the table tennis final, even the coaching team’s dissatisfaction with Chen Meng’s victory points to underlying problems beyond fan behavior.
While public backlash against “fandom” in sports often stems from concerns over its toxicity and violence, as blogger Yuyu noted, internal conflicts and power struggles have always existed in competitive sports. Framing these issues solely as “fandom problems” risks oversimplifying the situation and overlooks challenges such as commercialization failures, poor youth development, and internal factionalism within sports teams. The simplistic blame on “fandom culture” is seen by some as a distraction from these real issues, further fueling public frustration.
This public frustration is evident in a 2019 Weibo post and hashtag from People’s Daily. The five-year-old post personified China as a young male idol, promoting patriotism through fandom culture with the slogan “We all have an idol named ‘A Zhong’ (#我们都有一个爱豆名字叫阿中#)” [‘A Zhong’ was used as a nickname to refer to a personified China]. This promotion of ‘China’ as an idol with a 1.4 billion ‘fandom’ resurfaced during the Hong Kong protests.
Hashtag: “We all have an idol named Azhong” [nickname for China]
Now, after state media harshly criticized fandom culture, netizens have revisited the post, bringing it back into the spotlight. Recent comments on the post are filled with sarcasm, highlighting how fandom is apparently embraced when convenient and scapegoated when problems arise.
Post by People’s Daily promoting China as an “idol.”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to crack down on fan culture?” one commenter wondered.
Chen Meng, the Olympic table tennis champion, has also addressed the fan culture surrounding the 2024 Paris matches. She expressed her hope that, in the future, fans will focus more on the athletes’ “fighting spirit” on the field. True sports fans, she suggested, should be able to celebrate when their favorite athlete wins and accept it when they lose. “Because that’s precisely what competitive sports are all about,” she said.
By Ruixin Zhang
edited for clarity by Manya Koetse
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