China’s defeat against Japan at the Asian Games trended on the same day as the commemoration of the Mukden Incident—not as a separate event, but as a painful reminder of the humiliation of war.
 

Football can be a useful way to gauge the state of nations.¹ So can basketball, apparently.

One of the most discussed topics on Chinese social media on September 18 was the China vs. Japan men’s basketball semifinal at the Asian Games, a topic that was collectively viewed not merely through a sports angle, but through the lens of history and WWII – especially on an important commemoration day that was all about China’s war against Japanese aggression.

September 18 marks the anniversary of the Mukden Incident in 1931. Right next to the basketball game, that topic became one of the top keywords on Weibo and other Chinese platforms on Friday.²

The Mukden Incident —a staged explosion that damaged a section of Japanese railway in Shenyang [Mukden] on September 18, 1931—was used as a pretext for Japan’s invasion of Manchuria and has come to be widely regarded by Chinese historians and officials as the true starting point of the Second Sino-Japanese War.

On this significant day, the China vs. Japan game in Nagoya ended in a major 77-97 loss for the Chinese team, which critics attributed to a lack of speed and tactical weaknesses that left them defenseless against the Japanese team’s swift attacks. Making it worse, the Chinese had the advantage of taller players, and the Japanese weren’t even playing with their best team.

“Like a top-grade horse losing to a bottom-grade horse,” one sports columnist wrote (“是我们的上等马输给了对方的下等马”).

Prior to the game, many commenters already questioned why a China-Japan face-off should take place on such a sensitive date, while others suggested that the Chinese team “could not afford to lose on this day.”

Posted by Weibo user 君见理5, this AI poster transforms…

Originally published as the Eye on Digital China newsletter on September 17, 2026.

In this edition:

• Guangzhou Library fills with young people “pretending to work”
• How “shuaqi-ism” became the buzzword of China’s new semester
• Why office workers are “going rural” at Starbucks
• The rise of China’s 24-hour fishbone clinics

It’s been a week full of noteworthy trends. What hasn’t been trending are any baseless rumors you might have encountered speculating about Xi Jinping’s health after he returned from New Delhi.

Although such speculation is common on Western social media platforms, posts about the Chinese leader that deviate from official media reports and state narratives are rarely available on mainland Chinese platforms due to censorship and monitoring. For the same reason, you’ll also see that news reports about Xi Jinping, from his visit to India to domestic messages, often have restricted comment sections, allowing only a select number of comments — or no comments at all.

At the same time, disseminating rumors or false information online is punishable by law in China. Due to the risk of serious legal consequences for posting rumors deemed damaging to the state or society, there is also self-censorship among Chinese netizens who wouldn’t want to risk reposting such content. This is why you see that X, along with other foreign platforms, is the main source of rumors about Xi’s supposed health issue at the BRICS Summit, not Chinese social media.

📌 On a separate but related note, it’s regrettable to see more English-language China-focused projects disappear. WIRED has discontinued Made in China, the newsletter created by Zeyi Yang and Louise Matsakis. At the same time, the podcast China Decode, co-hosted by Alice Han and James Kynge, has been shut down due to a lack of advertising support.

Independent reporting on China is becoming harder to sustain at a time when it matters more than ever. There is more fast China news than ever, but deeply researched work is struggling, while readers are seeing more hot takes for the clicks (commercial gains) and biased coverage (political stakes).

It’s a reminder to subscribe to the newsletters and podcasts you value where creators actually invest time, effort, and expertise into China-related research. Without reader support, more of them will disappear.

🗞️ QUICK SCROLLS

📚 Young people “pretending to go to work” (假装上班) are filling Chinese libraries. The topic went viral after a video showed long morning queues outside Guangzhou Library, where unemployed people spend entire days on their laptops to avoid worrying their families about being jobless.

🎾 Chinese tennis star Zheng Qingwen (郑钦文), who made a much-discussed post-injury comeback at the US Open, has been ranked among the world’s highest-paid female athletes, earning US$22.6 million a year – an income close to that of Olympic freestyle skier Eileen Gu (谷爱凌), one of China’s most commercially valuable athletes.

📱 The iPhone 18 Pro launch has been big on Chinese social media, not just because it sold out within minutes, but also because Huawei’s top executive told Apple users—during a phone launch the night before the iPhone event—to buy a Huawei as a “backup phone” (备用机), saying he was confident they’d love it so much that it might become their main phone instead.

🍣 The popular Japanese chain Sushiro has come under fire in China after an employee in Shijiazhuang exposed that a local trainer instructed staff to use their body heat to thaw frozen shrimp. The store responded later, saying the trainer involved has been suspended.

💰 A butler from Weihai who stole liquor, jewelry, and other valuables over more than two years from the home of a retired Shandong vice-governor in his eighties, and sold the goods for more than 2.43 million yuan (about US$362,000), has had his ten-year, six-month prison sentence upheld in a final ruling. Many netizens are not questioning the sentencing but rather how so many expensive goods ended up in a retired official’s home in the first place.

🟢 WeChat’s new native AI assistant, “Xiaowei” (小微), currently still in the testing phase, is raising privacy concerns. Xiaowei is supposed to help with text and voice queries and tasks like checking the weather, tracking parcels, or ordering food, but the fact that it’s embedded inside an app that’s essentially the key to navigating everyday life is making users concerned – many people feel there are already enough AI tools and don’t need one inside their most personal app.

💩 The HYROX athlete who lost control of her bowels while competing—and went on to win after soiling herself—at the global indoor fitness race in Beijing on Saturday has apologized to Chinese fans and organizers for continuing despite feeling ill. She has since retroactively withdrawn from the race and forfeited her points. The incident has sparked widespread discussion about hygiene rules at sporting events.

👁️ ZOOMING IN

There’s Something About Shua: The Playful Popularity of Shuaqi-ism

– by Ruixin Zhang, with Manya Koetse

This September, as schools across China started the new semester, one word exploded online: “shuǎqǐ” (耍起).

It means “playing around,” “hanging out,”/“having fun,” and it’s an ordinary expression in Southwestern Mandarin, especially used in Sichuan and Chongqing speech.

The reason why shuaqi, as an everyday dialect word, went viral in the first place is mostly thanks to the Sichuan comedian Li Boqing (李伯清). Years ago, in one of his píngshū (评书, storytelling) performances, he delivered this little rhyme about the “happy economy” of Sichuan people:

Have fun while making money,

Make money to have fun,

Combine work and play,

But always put play first.

(耍中找钱，找钱来耍，找耍结合，以耍为主)

Local language reflects a region’s character and vibe. This is especially true for Sichuan and Chongqing, which are famous for a laid-back attitude where “playing around” takes priority.

In the local Chuān-Yú (川渝) dialect, “shua” is used in many ways. Dating is called “playing friends” (耍朋友), and going to work is “playing at work” (耍耍班). Basically, the character “shua” (耍) rules everything—it’s the highest creed of Southwestern speech.

Many netizens outside the region appreciate “shua” precisely for that reason. They like the word for its linguistic roots and its deviation from the standard Mandarin word for “play” (wán 玩). It captures a light, playful, almost mischievous feel.

Beyond that, many netizens feel this playful, relaxed attitude is exactly what’s missing from their stressful, busy lives. It’s a state of mind many young people are yearning for.

Entering the Great Shuaqi Era

Recently, discussions about incorporating “shua” as a lifestyle or philosophy to combat a stressful first semester took off through the concept of “shuaqi-ism” (shuǎqǐ zhǔyì 耍起主义) – “let’s-play-ism” or “play-around-ism.”

From Douyin to Weibo and Bilibili, netizens have begun embracing a “shuaqi” approach.

💬 “I use the shuaqi philosophy to combat back-to-school anxiety,” one Weibo creator wrote.

💬 Another Bilibili user captioned his video “Let’s have some fun! We’re entering the Great Shuaqi Era” (全球进入大耍起时代).

More classic Sichuan-Chongqing lines started circulating to emphasize just how important it is to play around in life, like:

💬 “Small money, small play; big money, big play; no money, still play hard; then borrow money to play” (小钱小耍，大钱大耍，没钱硬耍，借钱来耍).

Many young people, whether working or studying hard for civil service exams, have been posting complaints online about their current lives, saying it’s all about future jobs and career prospects. They just want to enter the “Great Shuaqi Era” (大耍起时代) like the folks in Sichuan and Chongqing.

Anti-Involution Trends

Resistance to the everyday rat race has been visible on Chinese social media for years, taking on different forms, attitudes, and buzzwords as people seek to escape the pressure of daily life.

We’ve seen the movement of “lying flat” (tǎngpíng 躺平) in 2021, or the “rat people” (lǎoshǔ rén 老鼠人) of 2025, and this year’s “wall-hanging” youth (guàbì 挂壁).

Many of these anti-involution trends come from frustrated venting – in the end, people can’t actually hide away from life. What keeps “shuaqi-ism” in the conversation is that it actually seems doable. People from Sichuan and Chongqing appear to have already proven it works in real life.

The region has long been called the “Land of Abundance” (天府之国) and a place made for enjoyment.

There’s an old saying: “Don’t enter Sichuan when young; don’t leave Shu when old” (少不入川，老不出蜀) *(Shu is an old name for the Sichuan region).

The gist is that the region’s relaxed atmosphere will kill your ambition when you’re young, so you shouldn’t go there; and you shouldn’t leave when you’re old, since it’s so comfortable and perfect for retirement. That says a lot about how deep the leisurely gene runs in Sichuan-Chongqing culture.

Sichuan/Chongqing netizens have also been sharing their own stories on social media to highlight the playful side of their culture.

For example, at funerals in Sichuan, keeping vigil is a cheerful affair, with guests often playing mahjong all night. The meat and wine used in ancestral offerings can be taken home and eaten afterward, with no taboos surrounding it.

The Great Shuaqi Era vs. the Great Age of Gloom

The playful nature and casual disregard for traditional rules associated with the Sichuan/Chongqing region can be shocking to many people from other parts of China—especially those from the so-called “Shan-He Four Provinces” (山河四省: Shandong, Shanxi, Henan, and Hebei).

Those four provinces, like Sichuan and Chongqing, have large populations and aren’t particularly economically developed. Despite their similarities, their attitudes toward living couldn’t be more different.

The statistics reflect these differences. Residents of Sichuan and Chongqing, for example, are known for their willingness to spend. Although local incomes and economic development lag behind places such as Beijing or Shanghai, their consumption as a proportion of disposable income ranks among the highest in China. In the Shan-He provinces, meanwhile, it remains well below the national average.

And in national depression-rate statistics, Sichuan and Chongqing consistently rank among the lowest in the country.

Netizens have summed it up this way: the opposite of Sichuan-Chongqing’s shuaqi-ism is the Four Provinces’ “Great Age of Gloom” or “big-repression-ism” (大压抑时代).

One Weibo user said they were most qualified to speak about the difference between the two regions, having moved from Shan-He (Shandong) to Sichuan:

💬 “Honestly, from the very first moment I arrived in Sichuan, I inexplicably felt much more relaxed. And looking back, I’ve been here for almost a month now—and I really have spent basically every day in full shuaqi mode.”

Sichuan Playfulness versus Shan-He Restraint

Why the difference? A popular online explanation frames it as a conflict between Confucianism and Daoism.

Located in North and Central China, the ‘Four Provinces’ have been deeply shaped by Confucian culture for centuries.

Confucius came from present-day Shandong, and Confucian ethics and social hierarchies have taken particularly deep root there, which is still evident in an everyday emphasis on etiquette, hierarchy, and rules. Children are raised to be thrifty, never waste money, always behave correctly, and be obedient. Government jobs and other positions “within the system” are regarded as the most respectable career choices.

One netizen complained that at local funerals, the whole family gathers in the mourning hall and competes to cry the loudest. From that perspective, Sichuan’s far more laissez-faire attitude is almost unimaginable.

💬 “If I did any of that, my mother would throw me out of the house,” one Henan netizen remarked.

Daoism, by contrast —with an emphasis on wuwei (non-action), spiritual freedom, and detachment from material success and social status—has long been associated with Sichuan’s Qingcheng Mountain.

Others point to the historical “Huguang fills Sichuan” (湖广填四川) migration. At the end of the Ming and the beginning of the Qing, war and plague emptied Sichuan, so the government encouraged migrants from Huguang (present-day Hunan and Hubei) to move in. According to this explanation, the resulting migrant society made it harder for the strong lineage structures central to traditional Confucian society to take hold.

Some explanations go back even further, to Li Bing (李冰), the Qin official who oversaw the construction of the Dujiangyan irrigation system during the Warring States period. The project helped transform the Sichuan Basin into a true land of abundance where people could eat their fill. Meanwhile, the less fertile lands of East and Central China meant constant worry about food, which shaped a more restrained, frugal character.

💬 One popular phrase captures this contrast: “Under big-repression-ism, failing the civil-service exam means life is over. Under shuaqi-ism, if you don’t get in, you just go to Chengdu and become a rapper.”

All of these regional contrasts are, of course, also stereotypes. Despite the growing popularity of shuaqi-ism, some locals argue that the online celebration of shuaqi romanticizes life in the region. Educational competition in Sichuan is also fierce; cities such as Chengdu and Chongqing are also expensive, and well-paid jobs can be just as hard to find.

💬 “It’s not the carefree paradise outsiders imagine—people here are anxious too,” one local netizen added.

Putting Fun First

Romanticized or not, many netizens have embraced shuaqi-ism as their newfound mission. What does it actually mean in daily life? It’s simple: making having fun a proper priority (“把快乐当正事”).

On Xiaohongshu, creators share tips on shuaqi-ism, like:

• “You don’t have to wait until everything is finished before allowing yourself to be happy.”

• “Don’t treat being busy as life’s only source of value, and don’t feel guilty for being happy.”

• “Socialize: one mahjong set can bring an entire group together.”

• “Eat hotpot: one hotpot meal can continue from evening until late at night.”

• “Life should include a cup of tea enjoyed slowly, a walk without a destination, a long meal with friends, and moments of happiness that do not need to justify their existence.”

But most of all, netizens embrace the shuaqi lifestyle by turning Sichuan comedian Li Boqing into their shuaqi role model and repeating his now-famous words:

👉 “Have fun while making money, make money to have fun, combine work and play, but always put play first.”

📱ON THE FEEDS

“Starbucks down-to-the-fields” Meme

Ever seen someone “eating” their coffee with chopsticks? “Quickly eating Starbucks before heading into the fields” is a meme that became popular on Chinese social media (mainly Xiaohongshu and Douyin) over the past month. It’s basically all about people devouring their Starbucks orders, from Frappuccino to cake, like hungry farmers, as if it’s their hurried “porridge and pickle” meal before going back to their manual labor.

In doing so, some participants in the meme not only bring their chopsticks to Starbucks but also pair their order with peanuts and celery, garlic, and Laoganma.

The trend is part of a wider self-deprecating Chinese office meme culture in which modern corporate workers see themselves as “oxen and horses” (牛马 niúmǎ). The sentence “zhuājǐn chī diǎn, xià dì gànhuó” (抓紧吃点，下地干活) means “to eat something quick, then off to the fields” and is all about the idea that you eat to work, and work to eat.

The meme is playful—bringing us back to shuaqi—but what makes it especially compelling is the contrast between Starbucks, representing a more cosmopolitan, modern urban lifestyle, and the traditional Chinese rural routine. No matter how fancy that iced caramel macchiato with carrot cake is, many young urban workers still see their lunch break as a plain quick refuel before going back to their “field”: the office building.

💡 DID YOU KNOW?

China’s 24-Hour Fishbone Clinics

Did you know that hospitals in some Chinese cities have “Nighttime Fishbone Clinics” (夜间鱼刺门诊) to remove fish bones from patients’ throats? Some are even open 24 hours a day.

One employee interviewed by Sina News recently said nighttime fishbone cases are relatively common, with more than 10 patients a day specifically visiting the clinic when a fishbone gets stuck in their throat.

Doctors warn that even a tiny fish bone can cause considerable harm. If a fish bone gets stuck in your throat, don’t resort to home remedies or poke at it, as this can push the bone deeper, making it harder to remove and worsening potential injuries.

Anyway, if you’re in Nanjing, Wuhan, Shanghai, or Chongqing, it’s comforting to know you can now visit one of their nighttime fish bone clinics if you find that the fish hotpot dinner or other fish dinners left some bones in your throat…

Many thanks to Ruixin Zhang and Miranda Barnes for their contributions in writing, spotting trends, and curating topics.

 
Eye on Digital China, by Manya Koetse, is co-published on Substack and What’s on Weibo. Both feature the same new content — so you can read and subscribe wherever you prefer. Substack offers community features, while What’s on Weibo provides full archive access.

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