The year is 1990, and the streets of Beijing’s Fangshan District are eerily quiet. You can almost hear a pin drop in the petrochemical town, as tens of thousands of workers and their families huddle around their televisions, all tuned to the same channel for something groundbreaking: China’s very first soap opera, Yearnings (渴望 Kěwàng).

Yearnings tells the story of Liu Huifang (刘慧芳), a female factory worker from a traditional working-class family in Beijing, and her unlikely marriage to university graduate Wang Husheng (王沪生), who comes from a family of intellectuals. When Liu finds an abandoned baby girl, she adopts her and raises her as her own, against her husband’s wishes.

The couple is unaware that the foundling is actually the illegitimate child of Wang’s snobbish sister, Yaru. After Liu and Wang have a biological son, the marriage comes under further pressure, eventually leading to divorce. Liu is left as a single mother, raising two children on her own.

Still from Yearnings, via OurChinaStory.

Drawing inspiration from foreign dubbed television shows, Yearnings was produced as China’s first truly domestic, long-form indoor television drama. Spanning 50 episodes, the series traces a timeline from the onset of the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s through to the late 1980s—one of the most turbulent periods in modern Chinese history.

Before the series aired nationally on CCTV and achieved record viewership, the first station to air Yearnings in the Beijing region was the Yanshan Petrochemical TV Station (燕山石化电视台), China’s first major factory TV station (厂办电视台) located in Fangshan District.

Here, in this town of over 100,000, Yearnings garnered an astonishing and unprecedented 98% audience share. The series was truly groundbreaking and became a national sensation—not just because it was China’s first long-form television drama, or because it was a locally produced drama that challenged the long-standing monopoly of state broadcaster CCTV, but because Yearnings marked a major shift in television storytelling.

Until then, Chinese TV stories had always revolved around communist propaganda, or featured great heroes of the revolution. Yearnings, on the other hand, was devoid of political content and focused on the hopes and dreams of ordinary people and their everyday struggles—love, desire, marital tension, single motherhood—topics that had never before been so openly portrayed on Chinese television.

The show’s creators had perfectly tapped into what was changing: the Communist Party was slowly withdrawing from private life, and people were beginning to see themselves less defined by their work unit and more by their home life—as consumers, as partners and parents, as citizens of a new China filled with aspirations for the future. Yearnings’ storyline was a reflection of that.

Chinese-Style “Nostalgia Core”

Yearnings marked a cultural turning point, coinciding with the rapid spread of TV sets in Chinese households. In 1992, economic reforms triggered a new era in which Chinese media became increasingly commercialized and thriving, before the arrival of the internet, social media, and AI tools once again changed everything.

Today, Yearnings still is a topic that often comes up in Chinese online media. On apps like Douyin, old scenes from Yearnings are reposted and receive thousands of shares.

📌 It’s emblematic of a broader trend in which more netizens are turning to “nostalgia-core.” In Chinese, this trend is known as “中式梦核” (Zhōngshì Mènghé), which literally means “Chinese-style dreamcore.”

Dreamcore is an internet aesthetic and visual style—popular in online communities like Tumblr and Reddit—that blends elements of nostalgia, surrealism, and subconscious imagery. Mixing retro images with fantasy, it evokes a sense of familiarity, yet often feels unsettling and deserted.

The Chinese-style dreamcore (中式梦核), which has become increasingly popular on platforms like Bilibili since 2023-2024, is different from its Western counterpart in how it incorporates distinctly Chinese elements and specifically evokes the childhood experiences of the millennial generation. Content tagged as “Chinese-style dreamcore” on Chinese social media is often also labeled with terms like “nostalgia” (怀旧), “childhood memories” (童年回忆), “when we were little” (小时候), and “Millennial Dream” (千禧梦).

According to the blogging account Yatong Local Life Observer (娅桐本地生活观察), the focus on the millennial childhood can be explained because the formative years of this generation coincided with a decade of rapid social change in China —leaving little in today’s modern cities that still evokes that era.

🌀 Of course, millennials in the West also frequently look back at their childhood and teenage years, particularly the 1980s and 1990s—a trend also embraced by Gen Z, who romanticize these years through media and fashion. In China, however, Gen Z is at the forefront of the “nostalgia-core” trend, reflecting on the 1990s and early 2000s as a distant, almost dreamlike past. This sense of distance is heightened by China’s staggering pace of transformation, modernization, and digitalization over the past decades, which has made even the recent past feel remote and irretrievable.

🌀 Another factor contributing to the trend is that China’s younger generations are caught in a rat race of academic and professional competition, often feeling overwhelmed by the fast pace of life and the weight of societal expectations. In this high-pressure environment—captured by the concept of “involution” (内卷)—young people develop various coping mechanisms, and digital escapism, including nostalgia-core, is one of them. It’s like a cyber-utopia (赛博乌托邦).

🌀 Due to the rise of AI tools available to the general public, Chinese-style nostalgia core has hit the mainstream because it’s now possible for all social media users to create their own nostalgic videos and images—bringing back the 1990s and early 2000s through AI-generated tools, either by making real videos appear more nostalgic or by creating entirely fictional videos or images that recreate scenes from those days.

So what are we seeing? There are images and videos of stickers kids used to love, visuals showing old classrooms, furniture, and children playing outside, accompanied by captions such as “we’re already so far apart from our childhood years” (example).

Images displayed in Chinese Dreamcore.

And notably, there are videos and images showing family and friends gathering around those old big TVs as a cultural, ritualized activity (see some examples here).

Stills from ‘nostalgia core’ videos.

These kinds of AI-generated videos depict a pre-mobile-era family life, where families and communities would gather around the TV—both inside and outside—from classrooms to family homes. The wind blows through the windows, neighbors crack sunflower seeds, and children play on the ground. Ironically, it’s AI that is bringing back the memories of a society that was not yet digitalized.

Nowadays, with dozens of short video apps, streaming platforms, and livestream culture fully mainstream in China—and AI algorithms personalizing feeds to the extreme—it sometimes feels like everyone’s on a different channel, quite literally.

In times like these, people long for an era when life seemed less complicated—when, instead of everyone staring at their own screens, families and neighbors gathered around one screen together.

There’s not just irony in the fact that it took AI for netizens to visualize their longing for a bygone era; there’s also a deeper irony in how Yearnings once represented a time when people were looking forward to the future—only to find that the future is now looking back, yearning for the days of Yearnings.

It seems we’re always looking back, reminiscing about the years behind us with a touch of nostalgia. We’re more digitalized than ever, yet somehow less connected. We yearn for a time when everyone was watching the same screen, at the same time, together, just like in 1990. Perhaps it’s time for another Yearnings.

By Manya Koetse

(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)

Sources (other sources included in hyperlinks)

Koetse, Manya. 2016. “From Woman Warrior to Good Wife – Confucian Influences on the Portrayal of Women in China’s Television Drama.” In Stefania Travagnin (ed), Religion and Media in China. New York: Routledge.

Rofel, Lisa B. 1994. Yearnings: Televisual Love and Melodramatic Politics in Contemporary China. American Ethnologist 21(4):700-722.

Wang, Dan (汪丹). 2018. “《渴望》的艺术价值” [The Artistic Value of Yearnings].” Originally published in Beijing Daily (北京日报), October 12, 2018. Reprinted in Digest News (文摘报), October 20, 06 edition. Also see Sohu: 当年红遍大江南北的《渴望》.

Wang Min and Arvind Singhal. 1992. “Kewang, a Chinese television soap opera with a message.” Gazette 49: 177-192.

Zhuge Kanwu. 2021. “重温1990《渴望》：苦得“刘慧芳”希望被导演写“死” [Revisiting 1990’s Yearnings: The Suffering Liu Huifang Hoped to Be Written Off by the Director]. Zhuge Dushu Wu (诸葛读书屋), January 22. https://wapbaike.baidu.com/tashuo/browse/content?id=b699ee532cf79f862bfa14ad.

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The Chinese historical drama A Love Never Lost (人生若如初见) has been getting a lot of attention on Chinese social media since it made its surprise premiere on iQiyi on May 13.

By now, one of the main hashtags about the drama on Weibo has already exceeded 2.2 billion views. Meanwhile, large billboards featuring posters from the show have appeared from Chongqing to Beijing.

To say that A Love Never Lost has been a much-anticipated drama is somewhat of an understatement. The drama, directed by Wang Wei (王伟) and written by the acclaimed Jiang Qitao (江奇涛), was already filmed in 2020 and was actually set to air in July of 2022. Fans have been waiting for five years to watch the major production with its powerhouse cast.

On the day of its originally scheduled premiere in 2022, July 18, Hunan TV unexpectedly aired Minning Town (山海情) instead — a drama about Ningxia villagers lifting themselves out of poverty by building a new settlement on the edge of the Gobi Desert. Closely aligned with the Party’s poverty alleviation goals, it was apparently seen as a safer bet for broadcast.

What caused A Love Never Lost to be removed from the schedule just two hours before its planned airing? Although no official reason was ever given for the cancellation, it was rumored that the show suddenly got a red light and needed last-minute regulatory reviews.

According to the Dian & Ying blog (电和影) at the time, the historical drama likely still faced “approval problems” (审核问题) — possibly due to the sensitive nature of the historical events it depicts.

The series is set in the late Qing dynasty, in the aftermath of the Boxer Rebellion (1899–1900) — a violent anti-foreign, anti-Christian uprising that took place during the final years of the Qing Dynasty and led to large-scale massacres of Christians and foreign residents in China. The rebellion officially ended in 1901 with the signing of the Boxer Protocol (辛丑条约), generally seen as a “treaty of humiliation” (“辱国条约”). In the wake of these events, China — weakened and with several major cities under foreign occupation — entered a period of economic hardship and political instability.

TV drama posters featuring Liang Xiang, Yang Kaizhi, and Li Renjun.

A Love Never Lost follows the story of Chinese youth Liang Xiang (梁乡, played by Li Xian 李现), a descendant of the Qing imperial family; Yang Kaizhi (杨凯之, by Wei Daxuan 魏大勋), a revolutionary from a humble background; and Li Renjun (李任军 by Zhou You 周游), a member of the Beiyang Right Guard Army — three young men who are among the first Chinese students to study at a military academy in Japan, where they end up sharing a dorm.

On their journey there, they meet Wu Tianbai (吴天白 – Zhu Yilong 朱一龙) and Xie Shuhong (谢菽红 – Jessie Li 春夏), the determined daughter of a wealthy publishing family from Anhui.

Main protagonists of A Love Never Lost.

The lives of these five — who were, quite literally, on the same boat — begin to intertwine from that moment on, their personal journeys becoming inseparable from the fate of the Chinese nation during a turbulent chapter at the end of imperial rule.

For this drama, which explores a historical turning point through personal stories, the production team consulted late Qing historian Jia Yinghua (贾英华).

On Chinese social media, the series is praised as a strong drama with compelling characters full of emotional depth, even though they may not all be likeable – Liang Xiang, whose character represents the late Qing aristocracy, acts entitled and smiles after he forces himself onto Xie Shuhong.

On Xiaohongshu, the role of women in the series is especially discussed. Besides forced marriage customs in the late Qing, the role of Xie Shuhong is seen as one where the woman – and the way she is treated by the men around her – is also a metaphor for the decline and rise of the Chinese nation. Many viewers feel frustrated with just how powerless women were in those days.

Beyond the characters and the history they reflect, the show’s costumes, set design, and attention to historical details have also earned praise from viewers.

Despite its positive reception, the censorship that followed its canceled 2022 premiere is also a recurring topic of discussion. A significant number of scenes or moments have allegedly been cut, though it remains unclear whether this was due to historical sensitivities or intimacy-related content. Netizens feel some scenes don’t make sense, or that the development of certain characters, like Wu Tianbai, is confusing or incoherent due to the cuts that were made.

Many also question why some seemingly minor adjustments were made, and mourn the loss of what appears to be a substantial amount of original footage.

“It’s painful to see a project into which so many people poured their good faith, wisdom, sweat, and even money, end up being shown to the public in such a fragmented way,” one fan wrote on Weibo.

You can watch the series on iQiyi or YouTube (afaik no English subtitles yet).

By Manya Koetse

(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)

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