Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? In the fast-growing world of China’s AI microdramas, even virtual actors can’t escape reality. As production companies turn them into idols, audiences are voicing discomfort, while the future for human actors looks increasingly uncertain.

– By Ruixin Zhang and Manya Koetse

For Chinese audiences, AI in film and television is nothing new. In the fall of 2023, the first fully AI digital performer in a Chinese domestic drama, the character Erzhuang (二壮) in I Am Nobody (异人之下) sparked debate on Chinese social media.

Some fans, due to Erzhuang’s convincing northeastern Chinese dialect and natural expressions, almost couldn’t believe she wasn’t a real actress.

Erzhuang in I Am Nobody (异人之下) in 2023.

But Erzhuang was just the beginning.

In 2024, China Mythology (中国神话) was promoted by state media as China’s first fully AI-produced short drama series.

A year later, In My Heart, You Are One of a Kind (在我心中，你是独一无二) premiered as Hong Kong’s very first AI-generated short drama, a youth campus romance that sparked further discussion about whether AI actors could actually replace human actors.

From the two AI dramas from 2024 and 2025: China Mythology and In My Heart, You Are One of a Kind.

Those discussions were reignited in late March of this year when Shanghai-based production company Yaoke Media (耀客传媒) introduced two newly signed AI actors, Qin Lingyue (秦凌岳) and Lin Xiyan (林汐颜), who’ll be starring in the fantasy short drama Qinling (秦岭).

Qin Lingyue (秦凌岳) and Lin Xiyan (林汐颜)

Unlike earlier AI figures in microdramas, this high-profile ‘signing’ marks a shift: the company plans to develop these characters as independent IPs, much like human actors. In other words, they are to attract fans both through their on-screen performances and their off-screen ‘personalities.’

Soon after, the two AI actors created their own social media accounts on Douyin and Xiaohongshu, and began cultivating a sense of authenticity and ‘liveness’ (活人感).

A real-looking social media profile.

But as these digital performers and real actors become harder to distinguish, audience discomfort is growing, too.

In China’s microdrama market, AI is already playing a dominant role, with “AI dramas” (AI剧 or AI短剧) standing out as a distinct creative category within the broader industry.

Microdramas, also simply known as short dramas, have been around in China for at least a decade, but have become especially popular in recent years due to their vertical, ultra-short formats, designed for quick mobile viewing and easy ‘binge watching.’ Microdramas typically run for 60 to 100 episodes, but with each episode lasting just one to three minutes, an entire season can be watched in an hour or two.

That format also makes the industry particularly well-suited to AI. It is large, fast-moving, and often operates on limited budgets, with productions turning around quickly. In this environment, using AI-generated effects and AI actors simply makes sense. This is very different from traditional drama production, which typically involves longer timelines, higher budgets, well-known actors, and less room for experimentation.

“AI is no longer just an add-on in China’s drama sector—it is an integral part of the production process”

As a result, AI is no longer just an add-on in China’s short drama sector—it is becoming an integral part of the production process, with digital actors helping to improve efficiency and reduce costs. With the launch of Bytedance’s Seedance 2.0, production costs for AI-generated videos have dropped significantly, further boosting the growth of AI microdramas.

The scale of this shift is already clear: AI microdramas are now often outpacing live-action productions on trending charts. In 2025 alone, one Zhejiang-based production company (刚刚好影视) released 229 AI micro-dramas, generating over 513 million views.

According to Sixth Tone, short dramas featuring AI actors already represented approximately 40% of the top 100 animated short dramas in January 2026.

With AI and microdramas entering a kind of symbiosis, virtual actors are no longer disposable, one-off creations. They are evolving into continuous, persona-driven figures, often designed to resemble real celebrities—much like “fandom-driven actors” (流量演员), whose core function is to monetize fan attachment and sell fantasies rather than just act.

According to Yaoke Media, their plans for Qin Lingyue and Lin Xiyan are similar to those of idol models: they are expected to interact with fans, appear in multiple productions, and eventually become monetizable assets through brand endorsements and image licensing.

This also means they will likely take on the full spectrum of idol labor, including promotional events, fan service, and carefully manufactured on-screen chemistry—sometimes even “queerbaiting” (卖腐). (There’s no perfect English equivalent, but the term refers to deliberately staging romantic interactions between two male characters aimed in particular at a female “danmei” fans or “rotten girls” audiences who like indulging in such fantasies.)

In one AI costume drama, behind-the-scenes clips showed the lead actor and actress “live-streaming” together, answering fan questions, and deliberately hyping up their on-screen chemistry.

“Behind the scenes” livestream screenshots by AI actors.

Such human-coded content is now increasingly becoming an important part of the AI microdrama industry.

Some of these online videos also show the supposed perspective of “fans” and “staff” watching the actors walk around or interacting with them, creating a simulated world that some netizens feel is pushing a sense of “realness,” with comments like: “Please don’t force AI to act so human-like.”

“AI actors featuring in AI dramas that are watched by AI audiences, it’s the perfect closed loop”

For the same AI costume drama, some clips even mimic the perspective of ‘fansite admins’ (站姐)—dedicated fan photographers who typically capture and share candid, off-stage footage of real stars.

In one vlog by a supposed prop assistant, she appears as an overworked but witty crew member, taking viewers around the set, chatting with the leads, buying them coffee, and even stepping in as an extra.

“Behind the scenes” of an AI microdrama.

These glimpses of everyday, behind-the-scenes life all feel oddly real, but everything is AI-generated: the actors, the sets, the audience interactions, the staff, even the paparazzi (see example videos here and here).

For ordinary audiences, it is striking how deeply AI has already penetrated the film & television industry. Beyond criticisms of stiff expressions and rigid aesthetics, many netizens describe the new phenomenon as “uncanny” or “just too real😨.”

With AI actors now realistic enough to pass as human at a glance, but with small details like emotional expression still being off, that gap between being almost human but not quite creates a sense of discomfort among viewers, who dub these AI actors ‘stuffed monsters’ (缝合怪) or ‘stitched-together corpses’ (尸块).

More than the actors, it’s the entire ecosystem around them that makes us believe we’re watching “candid moments” of something that is not even alive. Screenwriter Wang Hailin (汪海林) was sarcastically commented on Weibo: “AI actors featuring in AI dramas that are watched by AI audiences 👍, it’s a perfect closed loop.”

Besides the simulated “aliveness” of digital performers, another controversial issue surrounding the recent rise of China’s AI actors is whether these creations infringe on portrait rights. Since the debut of Qin Lingyue and Lin Xiyan, these AI figures have been criticized for appearing to use facial features from multiple real actors.

As online discussions intensify, more AI actors in microdramas have been found to resemble real celebrities. Fans of beloved Chinese celebrities such as Dilraba Dilmurat (迪丽热巴) and Xiao Zhan (肖战) have taken to Weibo to protest this kind of “face swapping” (AI换脸) and demand protection of their idols’ likenesses.

An “AI face swap” (AI换脸): an AI actor on the left, Xiao Zhan on the right.

Yaoke responded that these images were “derived from massive datasets on the internet” and did not replicate any specific individual’s features.

This only fueled further backlash. To many, the use of “massive data” suggests that anyone, celebrity or ordinary person, could potentially have their image appropriated.

“The vlogger discovered the face swap infringement after a friend recognized his face while watching the AI drama”

In related recent trending news, a Chinese content creator (白菜汉服妆造), who typically wears traditional Chinese clothing in his videos, accused Hongguo (红果短剧), ByteDance’s short drama platform, of using his likeness without authorization to create a greedy villain in the AI-generated drama Taohua Zan (桃花簪).

On the left: greedy villain in the AI-generated drama Taohua Zan. On the right: Chinese content creator (白菜汉服妆造).

The vlogger discovered the face swap infringement after a friend recognized his face while watching the drama. The series was later taken offline.

One problem is that legal frameworks around AI lag behind technological development: by the time victims try to fight back legally, the technology has already moved on, making enforcement almost impossible.

Despite the backlash against the AI-fication of China’s short drama industry, some netizens are more optimistic about its development.

One blogger recently noted that as many people have already formed near friendship-like emotional dependencies on chatbots like ChatGPT—initially seen as cold technological tools—it is entirely possible that audiences will also develop genuine attachment to AI actors.

Current limitations that still make AI actors feel stiff, such as robotic voices or unnatural expressions, will likely diminish as the technology continues to improve.

Some call binging on AI short dramas their “guilty pleasure,” just to watch the AI actors perform. As one Weibo user wrote: “The female characters are just so beautiful—seriously, unbelievably beautiful. And they’re becoming more and more realistic: their facial expressions, especially the way their mouths move, are incredibly precise. Even the makeup looks stylish, and the hair feels very real. I honestly find myself wondering what eyeshadow and mascara they’re using.”

But support for AI performers in China’s drama industry is not limited to guilty pleasures and tech enthusiasts. For some, it also reflects a broader weariness with the perceived lack of quality among human actors.

“If the performances of real actors are already no better than AI, why not use AI actors instead?”

China’s film and television industry’s strong focus on fandom culture and good-looking idols, combined with limited budgets and a lack of formal training, has produced a wave of actors who are widely criticized for poor acting and a lack of professionalism. They are also frequently caught up in controversies, from refusing to memorize lines to relying heavily on green-screen acting.

These criticisms intensified during the 2021 major scandal involving former drama actress Zheng Shuang (郑爽), who had long faced criticism over her acting. A leaked recording at the time revealed she was earning a staggering 2.08 million RMB per day (roughly $320,000 then). Since then, “2.08 million” (208万) has become a derogatory label for fandom-driven actors who get high pays despite low-quality performances.

Amid weak acting and a distorted pay structure, many viewers have been calling for change. A common sentiment is: if their performances are already no better than AI, why not use AI actors, and give real actors a sense of crisis?

But will the use of AI actors actually push the industry to improve human actors, or simply replace them?

Some Chinese industry insiders remain optimistic, arguing that AI can never fully replicate the nuance of human emotion. Among those who have spoken out are A-list actors such as Zhang Ruoyun (张若昀) and Feng Yuanzheng (冯远征), president of the Beijing People’s Art Theatre.

Others, however, are less optimistic.

“China’s “cancel culture” will eventually make AI actors an increasingly attractive bet for industry investors”

Agan Jackie (阿甘Jackie), a streamer working in the film industry, pointed out in a recent podcast that China’s “cancel culture” will eventually make AI actors an increasingly attractive bet for industry investors.

Although there’s “cancel culture” in the Western entertainment industry as well, the moral bar for Chinese celebrities is exceptionally high: anything from tax evasion to littering, simply being rude to fans could destroy an actor’s commercial value. The superstar Fan Bingbing (范冰冰), for example, disappeared from public view after a tax evasion scandal. Even after repaying her debts, she is still effectively banned from mainland productions.

China’s cancel culture is also closely tied to political red lines. One remark or move – intended or not – could end a career overnight. Zhang Zhehan (张哲瀚), an actor who quickly rose to fame a few years ago, vanished from the industry after photos surfaced of him posing near the Japanese Yasukuni Shrine.

For production companies and streaming platforms, such unpredictability creates a high-investment, high-risk environment. “Scandal-proof” AI actors offer a low-risk substitute.

This perhaps also plays a major role in why major streaming platforms such as Tencent and iQiyi are now promoting or encouraging the use of AI actors through AI feature film experiments, with the first fully AI-generated commercial blockbusters expected to be released later this year.

At the recent China TV Drama Production Industry Conference, it became clear that the industry is undergoing something of an earthquake, with major changes ahead: while top actors will continue to function as traffic drivers, demand for human actors is expected to decline, and much of the mid- and lower-tier acting segment (such as extras and body doubles, but also voice actors) could largely disappear as it becomes replaceable by AI.

The microdrama industry, already heavily infiltrated by AI, offers a glimpse of the future of the broader TV and film industry when it comes to digital performers.

Microdrama actress Zhou Ye (周野) recently said that her pay has been slashed by 50% since AI-driven microdramas flooded the market, leaving many more actors jobless. For the 140,000 registered extras at Hengdian World Studios, China’s largest filming base, these developments could have far-reaching consequences.

Sometimes, these actors even sign away their fate—quite literally—as some companies now require “AI authorization” clauses as a condition of employment, effectively selling their digital likeness just to get a job. Companies can then create AI actors based on real individuals. Chinese talent management company Yuxiao Media (聿潇传媒) has introduced six such AI actors, directly modeled on real performers.

“The microdrama industry, already heavily infiltrated by AI, offers a glimpse of the future of the broader TV and film industry when it comes to digital performers”

One of these, influencer Han Anran (韩安冉), openly stated during a livestream that she had sold her likeness rights for AI creation. Playing into public criticism of her acting and heavily altered appearance, she said this was the best way to monetize her image. She even wondered that if her AI doppelganger were ever to win an award, whether she or the AI should go on stage to accept it.

Han Anran (韩安冉) on the left and the AI actress modeled after her on the right.

Perhaps nobody likes to see ordinary actors’ livelihoods being taken over by AI. But despite concerns about shrinking job opportunities, China is unlikely to see Hollywood-like strikes, as it lacks unions or organizations comparable to SAG-AFTRA or the AFL-CIO, which focus on labor representation beyond awards and industry guidelines.

For now, the only collective pushback against the full “AI-fication” of the industry comes from Chinese netizens themselves: boycotting platforms and production companies using AI actors, and voting with their views. Ultimately, only when public demand for realness becomes strong enough to threaten profits—or when laws finally catch up—will there be a sense of security for the people behind the screen—the real ones.

By Ruixin Zhang, with editing and additional context by Manya Koetse

©2026 Eye on Digital China/Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.

A Chinese postdoc’s reported suicide after questioning by US authorities became a top trending topic in China this week. Despite the widespread attention, key details remain unclear, highlighting broader concerns about the increasingly sensitive position of researchers across the US–China scientific landscape.

On March 27, news about a Chinese postdoctoral researcher based in the United States who allegedly died by suicide a day after being questioned by US law enforcement officials began trending on Chinese social media.

The news came out during the Friday regular press briefing, where a CCTV reporter asked China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) spokesperson Lin Jian (林剑):

🗣️ “We’ve learned [据了解] that recently, a Chinese postdoctoral scholar took their own life a day after being subjected to questioning by US law enforcement personnel. What’s the Foreign Ministry’s comment?”

Spokesperson Lin Jian responded that China is “deeply saddened by the tragedy,” and added that Chinese authorities have formally protested to the US, further commenting:

🗣️”For some time now, the US has been overstretching the concept of “national security” for political purposes, carrying out unwarranted questioning and harassment of Chinese students and scholars, infringing upon the legitimate rights and interests of Chinese citizens, undermining the normal atmosphere of China–US people-to-people exchanges, and creating a serious “chilling effect.””

Lin Jian emphasized that China urges American authorities to conduct a thorough investigation into the case, provide answers to the victim’s family and to China, and stop any “discriminatory law enforcement against Chinese students and scholars in the United States.”

Lin Jian during the March 27 press briefing.

The “chilling effect” referenced by Lin Jian, in Chinese, is hán chán xiàoyìng (寒蝉效应), referring to a climate of fear in which people do not dare to speak out.

While xiàoyìng simply means “effect,” hán chán (寒蝉) literally means “a cicada in cold weather”—a metaphor for a repressive environment, as cicadas fall silent and become inactive in colder temperatures.

 
From MFA Briefing to Trending Topic
 

Following the press briefing, major Chinese news outlets like Xinhua and Global Times picked up the news and amplified the MFA statement across both their international and domestic channels, after which it quickly entered the top five “hot search” lists on platforms like Bilibili, Kuaishou, and Baidu. The MFA statement was also covered by Newsweek.

What is particularly noteworthy about how this news entered the online discourse is that it was reported solely through top-down, official channels. Unlike many incidents involving Chinese nationals overseas—particularly in cases of sudden death or personal tragedy—it did not first surface on social media through posts by friends or family members before prompting an official response. Nor were there any identifiable reports from local news or overseas Chinese community platforms that broke the story before the MFA did.

This left many questions about which university this researcher was affiliated with, where the incident occurred, and why the CCTV reporter asked this question on March 27 without any published news reports to go by.

Some have argued the Chinese government deliberately amplified the story to stir anti-American sentiment amid broader US-China tensions — a claim made, without supporting evidence, by the notoriously biased Epoch Times outlet.

🔍 Given the lack of details, Weibo’s own AI chatbot attributed the incident to the death of Li Haoran (李昊然). Li was a postdoctoral researcher at Princeton University who died at home in September 2025. On February 13, 2026, his death was officially ruled a suicide. Since this case predated the current report and has never been linked to law enforcement questioning, this appeared to be a hallucination error by the Weibo chatbot.

Weibo chatbot “hallucinating” and linking the current case to Li Haoran. Screenshot by author, March 27.

At the same time, claims popped up on social media regarding a recent suicide involving a researcher in the Department of Electrical & Computer Engineering (ECE) department at the University of Michigan.

One US-based Xiaohongshu user shared a screenshot of an email sent by University of Michigan staff on March 20 regarding the “sad news of the death of an Assistant Research Scientist (..) who fell from an upper story of the GG Brown building last night.”

The social media post, as well as an entire thread on another US-based Chinese community forum, had vanished by Monday, March 30, returning a “404” message.

The Michigan connection was also indirectly raised by some netizens (such as “Science Futurist” @科学未来人), who referenced earlier cases where Chinese researchers at the University of Michigan were allegedly “arrested, humiliated, and tormented.”

(🔍 Although there have been multiple incidents involving Chinese researchers at the university, this particular commenter referred to postdoctoral fellow Jian Yunqing (简云清), who was arrested by the FBI in June 2025 on charges including conspiracy and smuggling small samples of “toxic biological materials” into the US. This involved a crop-affecting fungus studied by Jian that, while also found in US fields, is illegal to import without a permit and is classified as a hazardous biological pathogen.)

Meanwhile, at the time of writing, few reports have emerged identifying any key details of the current case, and this lack of information surrounding the incident, both on the American and Chinese sides, is especially noteworthy for a case that has been framed as a major incident and a significant development in Sino-American academic exchanges.

 
The Michigan Connection
 

On March 31, the Chinese Consulate General in Chicago issued a statement via its WeChat account, responding to media inquiries regarding a Chinese scholar’s suicide following questioning by US law enforcement.

🗣️ The spokesperson confirmed that the case had occurred at a US university within its consular district, reiterating the sentiments expressed by the MFA and again using the term “chilling effect” (寒蝉效应, hán chán xiàoyìng). The statement criticized what it described as the US side’s use of “national security” to carry out unwarranted and politically motivated questioning and harassment of Chinese students and scholars.

Wechat post by Chinese Consulate in Chicago, March 31.

The Hong Kong newspaper Sing Tao Daily then connected the case to the University of Michigan’s ECE department, citing the aforementioned internal email and reporting that a local researcher died after falling from a height on the university’s North Campus.

The G.G. Brown Building, where the incident allegedly happened, when it was still under construction in 2013, photo by Michael Barera via Wikimedia Commons.

The deceased researcher was reportedly an Assistant Research Scientist on the team of Professor Zetian Mi, who specializes in semiconductors, nanomaterials, and optoelectronic technologies.

Professor Mi has been previously honored for his contributions to the growth of wide bandgap semiconductor materials, and leads a top-tier semiconductor research group that has received millions of dollars in funding from the US Department of Defense, published groundbreaking research, and earned prestigious awards in photonics and semiconductor science.

 
A Researcher at the Intersection of US–China Science
 

One Assistant Research Scientist previously listed on the official ECE website—who worked in Mi’s lab but has now been removed from the public staff list—is Dr. Wang Danhao (汪丹浩).

Wang’s research focused on next-generation semiconductor materials, including ultra-thin and ferroelectric systems with applications in electronics and photonics. He was previously part of a University of Michigan research team that explained why a new class of ferroelectric semiconductors can sustain opposing electric states without breaking apart—work published in Nature and supported by US funding sources, including the Army Research Office.

Over the years, Wang has built an extensive body of research published in some of the most prestigious scientific journals, including Nature Electronics, Nature Communications, and Science Advances.

More recently, Wang was listed as a co-first author on a study—covered by various industry publications—regarding a neuromorphic vision sensor capable of sensing, storing, and classifying images without external circuits, reportedly achieving over 95% recognition accuracy. The research was led by Professor Sun Haiding’s iGaN lab at the University of Science and Technology of China (USTC) and funded by Chinese government sources, including the National Natural Science Foundation of China.

Various Chinese sources have described this research as a breakthrough, noting that USTC developed the first optoelectronic diode integrating sensing, memory, and computing in a single device (“中国科大研制出首个具有感存算三合一功能的光电二极管”) (USTC link and news sources here and here).

According to Washtenaw County vital records, Wang Danhao died on March 20, 2026.

On that very same day, the research he contributed to (“A single diode with integrated photosensing, memory and processing for neuromorphic image sensors”) was published in Nature Electronics.

Wang’s profile, spanning research of interest to military and defense institutions, reflects involvement in both US-funded semiconductor projects (including work supported by the Army Research Office & within a DARPA-funded lab), as well as collaboration on Chinese government-funded research with a Chinese state university. This cross-institutional, cross-funded research highlights the increasingly complex and sensitive position of researchers operating across the US–China scientific landscape.

 
From a Mysterious Case to Serious Concerns
 

For now, many questions still surround this case, with official reports—from both the American and Chinese sides—likely to follow. At the time of writing, neither US government agencies nor the University of Michigan have publicly responded to the MFA statement or the Chicago consulate statement.

What we do know, and what is supported by prior studies, is that many Chinese researchers feel pressured and unsafe while carrying out academic work in the US, partly due to concerns about government investigations targeting researchers of Chinese origin.

In this recent case, Chinese online responses reflect that sentiment.

In some of the more notable discussions on Zhihu (such as this thread), users comment on the case’s mysterious nature while also linking it to a broader pattern of scrutiny and pressure on Chinese researchers in the United States.

These discussions reference past FBI investigations of Chinese academics under the so-called “China Initiative,” a 2018–2022 program launched by the US Department of Justice to counter espionage and intellectual property theft involving China.

🔍 One case mentioned is the 2024 death of Northwestern University Chinese-American neuroscientist Jane Wu (吴瑛), who died by suicide following years of federal scrutiny over her China-related ties, during which her lab was shut down, and her academic presence was later removed online.

In this context, some commenters also express skepticism about the suicide narrative in the current case. One popular comment stated:

💬 “Former Boeing quality manager and whistleblower John Barnett once publicly stated that if anything were to happen to him, it would not be suicide. On March 9, 2024, he was found dead in his car in a hotel parking lot in Charleston, South Carolina. The official ruling was suicide. He had been scheduled to testify that day, exposing issues related to Boeing’s production quality.”

Another commenter—a graduate of Peking University—argued that the US is no longer seen as a safe destination for Chinese researchers:

💬 “No matter how you look at it, he had already made it to the postdoc level, traveled all the way across the ocean only for things to end like this, it’s so unfortunate. Looking back now, the three years of the pandemic mark a very clear turning point. The “Bald Eagle” (白头鹰 – the US) is no longer an ideal destination for Chinese students, and is gradually no longer an ideal place for academic exchange and research either.”

At the same time, institutional responses are also taking shape.

🗣️ Dr. Nick Geiser, leader of the University of Michigan Postdoctoral Researchers’ Organization (UM-PRO), the union representing 1,500 postdocs, told Eye on Digital China they are currently bargaining with the university.

The union is preparing a proposal on international scholar rights that would ensure foreign postdocs are supported by the university in cases of abrupt funding cuts or warrantless investigations by US federal authorities.

This is a developing story. At the time of writing, there is no official confirmation that Wang Danhao is the individual referenced in this case. Any important updates will be added here as more information becomes available.

UPDATE April 3:

A news report by local news website MLive has come out earlier today, including additional information on this case.

In an April 1 email, Deputy Police Chief and Public Information Officer Melissa Overton stated that the researcher “jumped from the third floor and fell to the second floor inside the atrium in the George G. Brown Building on March 19.” He was later pronounced dead, and police — first called about 11 p.m. on March 19 — are investigating his death as a “possible act of self-harm.”

Paul Corliss, assistant vice president for public affairs and internal communications at the University of Michigan, has also issued a statement in an April 3 email, writing that: “Our priority is to honor the wishes of the family and those affected while adhering to legal requirements and ensuring that any information shared is accurate and non-speculative.”

See the report by MLive here.

An earlier internal email, sent out to the Michigan Engineering community on April 1, confirmed the passing of Wang Danhao (Dr. Danhao Wang), and stated that there is an active police investigation going on, with no further information to share.

The statement described him as “a promising and brilliant young mind,” whose research into wide bandgap III-nitride semiconductor materials and devices published in Nature “stands as a landmark, uncovering for the first time the switching and charge compensation mechanisms of emerging ferroelectric nitrides.”

The UM Postdoctoral Researchers Organization, the union that represents postdoctoral researchers, is advising its membership not to speak with federal authorities.

If you or someone you know is struggling, international mental health and crisis support helplines can be found at www.befrienders.org.

By Manya Koetse
(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)

Note: In Chinese, names are written with the surname first, followed by the given name (e.g. Wang Danhao, Mi Zetian). In English-language contexts, this order is usually reversed (e.g. Dr. Zetian Mi, Dr. Danhao Wang).

©2026 Eye on Digital China/Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.