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Dialogues Across Time: Remembering War in a New China

“We are not friends, and have never been,” is a line that went viral recently in light of the heightened focus on war in Chinese media and popular culture.

Manya Koetse

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🔥 This column also appeared in the Weibo Watch newsletter. Subscribe to stay in the loop.

 

“Comrade, are you from the new China?”

A man in a blood-stained 1940s PLA uniform sits in the grass beside a modern Chinese soldier in full combat gear, staring at him with quiet intensity. When told he is indeed from the “new China,” the old soldier leans closer and asks: “So… did we win?”

“We did,” the soldier replies, reaching for his phone to show China’s victory over Japan. But before he can reveal the proof, the old soldier has already transformed — his body bursting into a cloud of red dust from which dozens of pigeons rise into the sky

This short video was posted on Douyin earlier in August by a creator and ex-serviceman named “Comrade Pang Gangqi” (@彭港琦同志), together with “Combat Team’s A Sheng” (@战斗班阿生), a former firefighter. They are part of a growing nationalist circle of online creators producing videos with military and patriotic themes, often incorporating AI elements to stage imagined encounters where wartime fighters get to see modern-day China.

A recurring motif in these videos is that today’s soldiers “free” the spirits of those who fought in the 1930s and 1940s—either by telling them of China’s victory or by taking up their flag to continue the struggle.

Using AI, they merge past & present, tagging their content with the hashtag “Dialogue with New China Across Time” (跨时空对话新中国) (see some of the videos here).

Although the exact content of the videos vary, the format rarely does: WWII soldiers meet present-day servicemen or ordinary citizens and find release in the knowledge that their sacrifice helped build a prosperous China.

While it is unclear whether some of these creators post entirely independently or with official backing, their videos nonetheless became part of the state propaganda apparatus this month when major outlets — such as People’s Daily and Global Times — reposted them and promoted related hashtags onto Weibo’s hot lists.

One such hashtag, “Netizens Use AI to Talk Across Time and Space with Revolutionary Martyrs” (#网友用AI与先烈跨时空对话#), is just one among dozens of war-related topics dominating Chinese social media over the past two weeks.

This summer, memories of World War II—more specifically, the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937–1945), known in China as the War of Resistance Against Japan (抗日战争)—have occupied a central place in online narratives. Discussion peaked on August 15, the 80th anniversary of Japan’s surrender announcement.

The year’s weight in China’s collective memory is reflected not only in state media narratives but also in popular culture and online discourse.

The last time that the war was so ubiquitous on Chinese social media was probably in 2015, when the 70th anniversary of the end of the World War II in Asia was commemorated with a parade at Tiananmen as the first national, large-scale public commemoration of China’s role in the Second world War (Mitter 2020, 3).

Over the past two weekends, overnight drills for another major Tiananmen Square commemoration of the 80th anniversary of the end of WWII went viral. Spectacular videos of the military parade were widely shared by state media ahead of the official event scheduled for September 3, 2025, the day Japan formally surrendered. Around 22,000 people took part in the initial rehearsal, and the upcoming parade will be livestreamed to millions of viewers.

Further fueling online discussions about wartime history are two major new Chinese blockbusters centered on the Japanese invasion of China.

Although the Second Sino-Japanese War has long played a significant role in Chinese popular culture, it is rare—if not unprecedented—for two major WWII films to see an overlap in theatrical release. Over the past two weeks, both films have trended on Chinese social media, focusing on some of the most gruesome episodes of Japan’s full-scale aggression against China.

 

Nanjing Photo Studio: Painful Proof of a Massacre

 

Dead to Rights (official English title) or Nanjing Photo Studio (南京照相馆) revolves around the Nanjing Atrocities, commonly referred to in China as the Nanjing Massacre (南京大屠杀, Nánjīng Dàtúshā).

On December 13, 1937, after weeks of intense fighting in Shanghai, Japanese troops invaded Nanjing, then China’s capital, and over several weeks unleashed unprecedented violence: massacring civilians, including children and the elderly, raping women, looting, and burning the city. During those winter weeks of 1937–1938, an estimated 300,000 Chinese people were killed.

Nanjing Photo Studio, directed by Shen Ao (沈嚣), follows a group of young Chinese civilians and soldiers who seek refuge in a photography studio during the Japanese invasion and brutal occupation of Nanjing.

The story centers on Ah Chang, a postman (played by Liu Haoran 刘昊然) who assumes the role of a photo developer for the Japanese army to survive. When a Japanese military photographer requests him to develop film, Ah Chang and the others uncover the horrific atrocities happening beyond the studio walls, capturing war crimes through their own darkroom.

Dead to Rights/Nanjing Photo Studio Film promotion material

Although the photo studio storyline is fictional, the film is inspired by the real story of a Nanjing teenager named Luo Jin (罗瑾), who was only 15 or 16 years old in 1937–1938.

At the time, he worked as a clerk at the Huadong Photo Studio when a Japanese officer brought in two rolls of film for development. As Luo processed them, he discovered shocking images of Japanese soldiers looting and killing Chinese civilians. Luo secretly made a duplicate set of the atrocity photos and preserved them in a small booklet, which remained hidden until the end of the war. These photographs later served as “Evidence No. 1” (京字第一号证据) at the Nanjing Tribunal (Berry 2011, 117).

Dead to Rights premiered in late July, and this week it was announced that its theatrical run would be extended until September 24 (#南京照相馆密钥延期#). The film currently holds an 8.7 rating on Douban, where many commenters not only praise the production but also express strong anti-Japanese sentiments.

Dead to Rights is by no means the first film centered on the Nanjing atrocities. The first major feature film about the Nanjing Massacre was released in 1987: Massacre in Nanjing (屠城血证), directed by Luo Guanqun (罗冠群). That film also included a subplot about a photo studio owner who secretly developed photographs of atrocities and ultimately sacrificed his life to smuggle the evidence out.

As Michael Berry has noted in his discussion of the film, much of the Chinese discourse on the Nanjing atrocities has revolved around the need to “prove” that the massacre actually happened. Evidence—particularly photographs—plays a central role because since the 1970s, Japanese revisionists have actively disputed or outright denied what occurred in Nanjing.

Some deny the death toll of 300,000, claiming that as few as 10,000 perished, while others argue the entire event was fabricated. The emphasis on death tolls, photographs, and “evidence” has thus become a persistent thread in Chinese narratives about Nanjing, aimed simultaneously at domestic audiences, Japanese revisionists, and the international community.

Regarding the 1987 film, Berry wrote in 2011:

📰✍️ “The true tragedy of the film is that just as the characters struggle to prove that the massacre actually happened, so Massacre in Nanjing (..) is still struggling with the same issues—only now the film itself replaces the photographs as the chosen vehicle.”

This observation remains strikingly relevant for a movie made nearly forty years later, as so much discussion of the atrocities still focuses on the evidence—above all, the photographs—and how they were preserved to show the world the unimaginable violence and destruction that occurred in Nanjing.

 

Never Forget “731”

 

The second film fueling online discussion this month is 731 (七三一), directed by Zhao Linshan (赵林山), which focuses on the atrocities committed by Japan’s biological warfare Unit 731.

The film has already had a lot of online buzz and some anger over its original preview date of July 31st being postponed (delayed due to failure to obtain official approval, allegedly due to some gruesome scenes); but it is now officially scheduled for nationwide release on September 18.

That premiere date of September 18 carries great symbolic significance, as it marks the 94th anniversary of the Mukden Incident in 1931. That event—an explosion that damaged a section of Japanese railway—triggered Japan’s invasion of Manchuria and, rather than July 7, 1937, is regarded by many Chinese historians and officials as the true starting point of the Second Sino-Japanese War, making it a 14-year battle that merged into World War II after Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941.

Japan’s bacteriological activities that are at the center of this story are a particularly grim part of the Second Sino-Japanese War. The Japanese had a number of military units specialized in biological weapon research, of which Unit 731, based in Harbin, was the most notorious.

Established in 1936, the unit consisted of 150 different buildings and a staff of 3,000 that conducted research using both animals and imprisoned human subjects.

It is estimated that around 10,000 people in China and Manchuria died in these experiments. Apart from the research conducted in the units, the Japanese were also involved in ‘field tests’ that included large-scale contamination of water and food supplies. There were outbreaks of plague, cholera, and typhus due to aerial spraying and the dropping of bombs that consisted of infected fleas (Klietmann & Ruoff 2001; Koetse 2012).

Two film posters for 731, one announcing the original release date and the other the new release date (September 18).

The 731 movie, produced by Changchun Film Group in collaboration with the Propaganda Departments of Shandong, Jilin, Heilongjiang, and Harbin, will focus on ordinary people becoming victims of the Unit 731 experiments, and carries a strong message on its poster: “Never forget” (绝不遗忘).

Similarly, some of the film posters for Dead to Rights show a big slogan saying: “Remember history, never forget national humiliation” (铭记历史 勿忘国耻).

 

“We Are Not Friends”

 

Emotional AI videos, WWII blockbusters, and spectacular rehearsals for an unprecedented victory parade — what to make of this summer’s national remembrance of the Second Sino-Japanese War?

There are a few things I’ve noted while following the media campaigns and online responses to WWII discussions on Chinese social media these weeks.

🔹 War memory as nationalism. The memory of war, as an important part of popular culture, is being used as a vehicle for China’s new nationalism. This is not unique to China — it can also be seen in other countries, most famously in the US. But the focal points of remembrance shift with the times, as do the main messages surrounding these narratives. Right now, it is increasingly clear that painful war memories are being tied to positive messages about China’s bright future and its role as a great power, moving the emphasis from collective suffering to collective victory.

🔹 From national to transnational memory. There is an increasing emphasis on “letting the world know” (让全世界知道那段历史真相) about the Second Sino-Japanese War, especially gruesome chapters such as the Nanjing Atrocities and Unit 731. This reflects frustration that, in the West, the Sino-Japanese War is often taught as “China’s war with Japan” rather than part of the global conflict. As China’s international role grows, so does the drive to reframe these memories as part of world history.

🔹 From memory to justice. Hand in hand with the focus on collective suffering, victory, and China’s role in the Second World War, there is also a strong emphasis on past injustices and future justice. These narratives are closely tied to Japan’s official handling of the postwar era, as well as the ongoing denialism and revisionism among Japanese right-wing politicians and netizens.

Playing into all of these elements — nationalism, transnational memories of the Sino-Japanese War, and the search for justice — is actually a third Chinese WWII movie this summer titled Dongji Island (东极岛).

Dongji Island premiered in cinemas on August 8 and is based on the 1942 Lisbon Maru Incident. The Lisbon Maru was a Japanese cargo ship carrying — in terrible conditions — 1,816 British POWs from Hong Kong to Japan for forced labor. En route, the ship was torpedoed by a US submarine near the waters of Dongji Island, Zhejiang.

As the vessel slowly sank, the Japanese left the ship but sealed the prisoners inside the holds to die. Even those who managed to escape and jump into the sea came under Japanese gunfire. Despite this, Zhoushan fishermen risked their lives in small boats to rescue about 384 British prisoners of war. In total, 828 POWs died.

Chinese and international film poster of Dongji Island.

In a recent interview, the film’s director Fei Zhenxiang (费振翔) said: “Some Japanese even claim that it was they who rescued the British soldiers. History should be verified, so that the whole world knows the truth!”

China’s current heightened focus on the Second Sino-Japanese War right now is not exactly improving Sino-Japanese relations.

“We are not friends, and have never been” (我们不是朋友,一直都不是) is a line delivered by Liu Haoran in Nanjing Photo Studio while speaking to his Japanese enemy (in Japanese: 私たちは友達じゃない,絶対に).

The line has since gone viral, taken up by countless netizens who use it not just as a reckoning with history but also as a nationalist slogan and an expression of anti-Japanese sentiment.

It is clear that while China’s past is increasingly being remembered by bringing past fighters and present-day citizens together through the power of cinema and AI, and grand parades, the distance between Chinese and Japanese only seems to grow.

As long as the ways the war is remembered remains worlds apart, history will never bring them closer.

– By Manya Koetse

References:

Berry, Michael. 2011. “A History of Pain: Trauma in Modern Chinese Literature and Film.” United Kingdom: Columbia University Press.

Klietmann, Wolfgang F. and Kathryn L. Ruoff. 2001. “Bioterrorism: Implications for the Clinical Microbiologist.” American Society for Microbiology 14(2): 364–381.

Koetse, Manya. 2012. The ‘Magic’ of Memory – Chinese and Japanese Re-Remembrances of the Sino-Japanese War (1937-1945). Mphil Thesis, Leiden University.

Mitter, Rana. 2020. “China;s Good War: How World War II is Shaping a New Nationalism. Cambridge, Massachusetts: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press.

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Manya is the founder and editor-in-chief of What's on Weibo, offering independent analysis of social trends, online media, and digital culture in China for over a decade. Subscribe to gain access to content, including the Weibo Watch newsletter, which provides deeper insights into the China trends that matter. More about Manya at manyakoetse.com or follow on X.

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China History

A Love Never Lost: The Historical Drama That Took Five Years (and a Run-In with Censors) to Finally Air

Manya Koetse

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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

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China History

A Chinese Christmas Message: It’s Not Santa Bringing Peace, but the People’s Liberation Army

On social media, Chinese official channels are not celebrating a Merry Christmas but instead focus on a Military Christmas.

Manya Koetse

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It is not Santa bringing you peace and joy, it is the People’s Liberation Army (PLA). Chinese state media and other influential social media accounts have been pushing an alternative Christmas narrative this year, which makes it very clear that this ‘Merry Christmas’ is brought by China’s military forces, not by a Western legendary figure.

On December 24, Party newspaper People’s Daily published a video on Weibo featuring various young PLA soldiers, writing:

Thank you for your hard work! Thanks to their protection, we have a peaceful Christmas Eve. They come from all over the country, steadfastly guarding the front lines day and night. “With our youth, we defend our prosperous China!” Thank you, and salute!

People’s Daily post on Weibo, December 24 2023.

The main argument that is propagated, is that this time in China should not be about Christmas and Santa Claus, but about remembering the end of the Korean War and paying tribute to China’s soldiers.

This narrative is not just promoted on social media by Chinese official media channels, it is also propagated in various other ways.

One Weibo user shared a photo of a mall in Binzhou where big banners were hanging reminding people of the 73rd anniversary of the Battle of Chosin Reservoir during the Korean War: “December 24 is not about Christmas Eve, but about the victory at Chosin Reservoir.”

Mall banners reminding Chinese that December 24 is about commemorating the end of the Second Phase Offensive (photo taken at 滨州吾悦广场/posted by 武汉潘唯杰).

Another blogger posted a video showing LED signs on taxis, allegedly in the Hinggan League in Inner Mongolia, with the words: “December 24 is NOT Christmas Eve, it is the military victory of the Battle of Chosin Reservoir” (“12.24不是平安夜,是长津湖战役胜利日”).

One social media video showed a teacher at a middle school in Chongqing also emphasizing to her students that “it’s not Father Christmas who brings us a happy and peaceful life, but our young soldiers!”

In the context of the Korean War (1950-1953), December 24 marks the conclusion of the Second Phase Offensive (1950), which was launched by the Chinese People’s Volunteer Army against the United Nations Command forces–primarily U.S. and South Korean troops.

The Chinese divisions’ surprise attack countered the ‘Home-by-Christmas’ campaign. This name stemmed from the UN forces’ belief that they would soon prevail, end the conflict, and be home well in time to celebrate Christmas. Instead, they were forced into retreat and the Chinese reclaimed most of North Korea by December 24, 1950.

The Battle of the Chosin Reservoir, also known as the the Battle at Lake Changjin, is part of this history. The battle began on November 27 of 1950, five months after the start of the Korean War. The 2021 movie Changjin Lake (长津湖/The Battle at Lake Changjin) provides a Chinese perspective on the lead-up and unfolding of this massive ground attack of the Chinese 9th Army Group, in which thousands of soldiers died.

Especially in recent years and in light of the launch of the blockbuster movie, there is an increased focus on the Chinese attack at Chosin as a glorious victory and strategic success for turning around the war situation in Korea and defending its own borders, underscoring the military strength of the People’s Republic of China as a new force to be reckoned with (read more here).

This Chinese Christmas narrative of honoring the PLA coincides with a series of popular social media posts from bloggers facing criticism for celebrating Christmas in China.

One of them is Liu Xiaoguang (刘晓光 @_恶魔奶爸_, 1.7 million followers), who wrote on December 25:

Some people are criticizing me for celebrating Christmas Eve, because, by celebrating a foreign festival, I would be unpatriotic and forgetful of our martyrs. What can I say, in our family Christmas must be a big deal, even if I don’t come home it must be celebrated, because my mom is a Christian, and she’s very devout (..) So you see, on one hand I should promote traditional Chinese virtues, and show filial piety, on the other hand I should be patriotic and not celebrate foreign festivals.”

Meanwhile, other popular bloggers stress the importance of remembering China’s military heroes during this time. Influential media blogger Zhang Xiaolei (@晓磊) posted: “It’s not Santa Claus who gives you peace, it’s the Chinese soldiers! #ChristmasEve” (“给你平安的不是圣诞老人,而是中国军人!🙏#平安夜#”). With his post, he added various pictures showing Chinese soldiers frozen in the snow as also depicted in the Battle at Lake Changjin movie.

Throughout the years, Christmas has become more popular in China, but as a predominantly atheist country with a small proportion of Christians, the festival is more about the commercial side of the holiday season including shopping and promotions, decorations, entertainment, etc.

Nevertheless, Christmas in China is generally perceived as “a foreign” or “Western” festival, and there have been consistent concerns that the festivities associated with Christmas clash with traditional Chinese culture.

In the past, these concerns have led to actual bans on Christmas celebrations. For instance, in 2017, officials in Hengyang were instructed not to partake in Christmas festivities and several universities throughout China have previously cautioned students against engaging in Christmas-related activities.

Chinese political and social commentator Hu Xijin (@胡锡进) also weighed in on the issue. In his December 24 social media column, the former Global Times editor-in-chief wrote that there is no problem with Christmas Eve and the Second Phase Offensive victory day both receiving attention on the same day. Even if the younger generations in China view Christmas more as a commercial event rather than a religious one, it’s understandable for businesses to capitalize on this period for additional revenue. He wrote:

In this era of globalization, holiday cultures inevitably influence each other. The Chinese government does not actively promote the rise of “Western holidays” for its own reasons, but they also have no intention to “suppress foreign holidays.” Some Chinese celebrate “Western holidays” and it is their right to do, they should not face criticism for it.”

Although many Chinese netizens post different viewpoints on this year’s Christmas debate, there are some who just don’t understand what all the fuss is about. “December 24 can be both Christmas Eve, and it can be Victory Day. It’s not like we need to pick one over the other. We are free to choose whatever.”

By Manya Koetse

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