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Jiehun Huazhai (结婚化债): Getting Married to Pay Off Debts

Manya Koetse

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🔥 A version of this story also appeared in the Weibo Watch newsletter. Subscribe to stay in the loop.

Our Weibo phrase of the week is 结婚化债 jiéhūn huàzhài. Lately, the term “结婚化债” jiéhūn huàzhài, which translates to “marriage as debt resolution” or “getting married to resolve debt” is a recurring term on Chinese social media.

The word refers to a phenomenon that has become more prevalent alongside rising debts among younger people in China due to credit card debts or personal (online) loans. Instead of resolving their debts in other ways, there are people who turn to marriage as a way to solve financial problems. It’s not a promise of love-it’s a calculated transaction.

By getting married, women in particular can demand high bride prices and make their new husbands help repay their premarital loans.

Once they’re out of debt, they quickly divorce and leave their partners both emotionally and financially ruined.

Especially in China, where there are many more men of marriage age than women, women find an easy target in marriage-minded men who might not even be aware of their partner’s debt before tying the knot.

As a result of this controversial trend, bloggers and influencers are now warning people not to rush into marriage—recommending they check for financial transparency and, if needed, hire a lawyer to conduct a premarital financial investigation.

“The practice is old, the word is new,” one Weibo commenter wrote (“旧行业新名词”).

Others also agree that the phenomenon itself is not new: “Actually, this kind of scheme has been around for a long time, I heard about it twenty years ago. It just wasn’t that widespread back then because online lending didn’t exist yet. That said, society tends to adapt. Once a particular tactic becomes too common in the market, it naturally starts to lose its effectiveness.”

In the end, the best prevention against these sorts of practices is to increase social awareness—and not get blinded by love.

Explore more Chinese buzzwords and online language trends here.

 
By Manya Koetse

(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)

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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 Celebs

China Trend Watch: Quiet Nationalism, Loud Statements, and Nanjing Memorial Day

From war memory to viral eggs, salty cakes, an unfortunate dinner party and farewell to an iconic actress.

Manya Koetse

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🔥 China Trend Watch — Week 50 (2025)
Part of Eye on Digital China. This edition was sent to paid subscribers — subscribe to receive the next issue in your inbox.


Welcome to the Eye on Digital China newsletter. This is the China Trend Watch edition — a quick catch-up on real-time conversations.

I’ve rounded up my latest China trip that brought me from Chongqing to Nanjing, Wuhan, Zaozhuang and Beijing, for some of my research on Chinese remembrances of war. Along the way, I have met many friendly people and had interesting converations, from hanging out with a group of Wuhan teenagers to lively conversations with retired seniors in Shandong.

A small and short personal observation, if I may, regarding the current tensions between China and Japan.

I vividly remember the atmosphere on the streets during earlier moments when tensions ran sky-high—most notably in 2012, after a major diplomatic crisis erupted over Japan’s nationalization of several disputed Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands. That episode triggered large-scale anti-Japanese protests across China and spilled unmistakably into everyday life. In Beijing’s Sanlitun area, for instance, there was a street food vendor who put up a large sign proclaiming, “The Diaoyu Islands belong to China.” In the hutong neighborhoods, it seemed as though virtually every household had hung a Chinese flag by its door. Books about Japan that I purchased locally later turned out to have entire pages ripped out. My favorite sushi restaurant suddenly displayed a sign explaining that its brand was, in fact, very Chinese and had nothing to do with Japan. Nearby, in the clothing markets around the Beijing Zoo, T-shirts bearing nationalistic slogans related to the islands dispute were on sale at multiple stalls.

By contrast, during my most recent stay in Nanjing and beyond—despite the increasingly militant tone of state media and social media campaigns surrounding Japan, and despite the undeniable persistence of anti-Japanese sentiment—I noticed far fewer visible expressions of it in daily life. There were no slogan T-shirts, no banners, no overt street-level signaling. While news came out that a string of Japanese performances in China were canceled, I noticed hotel waitress fully dressed in a Japanese kimono at an in-house Japanese restaurant. Local bookstores are filled with works by Japanese authors, and Japanese popular culture appear to be thriving and coexisting comfortably with China’s own flourishing ACG (anime, comics, and games) industry.

Is there simply less anti-Japanese sentiment than over a decade ago? Or is it, perhaps, that in today’s highly digitalized Xi Jinping era, nationalist narratives are more tightly managed and increasingly channeled online—making people more cautious, more restrained, or simply less inclined to express political sentiments openly in public space?

A cab driver in Chongqing told me he believed there was “something wrong” with Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi and the influence she has had on bilateral relations since her rise to power. While supporting his government’s tough stance and expressing sadness over the scars left by war, he also mentioned that he had enjoyed a pleasant conversation earlier that same morning with a young Japanese man he had driven to the train station.

“We didn’t talk about the latest clash,” he said. “If find that too sensitive to mention. He spoke Chinese, he studied Chinese, like you. I don’t hate today’s Japanese people at all. In the end, we’re all just people. What’s happening now is something between the leadership.”

He spoke at length while driving me to the station, signaling that the topic clearly weighed on him. It left me with the sense that the absence of banners or T-shirts does not mean the issue has faded from everyday life, only that it is not expressed as a mass spectacle like it was in earlier years. It has become quieter, more online, and more filtered through official narratives, but it is still very much alive.

There is a lot more to say, but it is Sunday after all, and there is plenty more to read here, so let’s dive in.

Quick Scroll
  • 🍓 Chinese consumers were pretty salty this week when discovering their pricey strawberry cake from Alibaba supermarket chain Hema (盒马) tasted all wrong. Hema acknowledged a production issue (they didn’t say it outright, but salt was allegedly used instead of sugar) and the incident triggered discussions about food safety & quality control in automated food production, especially when such a major mistake happens at high-profile companies.
  • 🌡️ China’s announced ban on mercury thermometers (as of Jan 1st 2026) has sparked a buying frenzy, as many consumers, reluctant to switch to electronic alternatives, still prefer mercury models for their perceived accuracy and convenience. Despite nearly half of annual mercury poisoning cases being linked to broken thermometers, prices have now surged from around 4 yuan ($0.6) to over 30 yuan ($4.25), and stores have reported complete sellouts.
  • ❄️ Beijing welcomed its first snowfall of winter 2025 this week, leading to lovely social media pics and the Beijing Palace Museum tickets selling out instantly. Experiencing and capturing that first snowfall at the Forbidden City has become somewhat of a holy grail on social media.
  • 🕵️‍♂️ A local construction site in Shanghai unexpectedly became the scene of a modern-day treasure hunt after dozens of residents armed with shovels and metal detectors rushed to the area following online rumors that silver coins (including valuable older ones) had been found. Authorities had to intervene and, while not confirming the rumors, emphasized that any buried cultural relics belong to the state.
  • 🇷🇺 Since this month, Chinese citizens can enter Russia visa-free for up to 30 days, a policy that led Chinese state media to claim that “Russia is replacing Japan as a new favorite among Chinese tourists.” On social media, however, the vibe is different, with travelers complaining about high prices, poor internet, lack of online payments, unreliable ATMs, and the need for thorough trip preparation — all reasons why Russia is unlikely to become the go-to destination for the Chinese New Year.
  • 🫏 An investigation by Beijing Evening News revealed that many of the capital’s popular donkey meat sandwich shops are actually serving horse meat without informing customers. China’s donkey shortage — driven by declining domestic supply, rising demand for the traditional Chinese medicine Ejiao (which uses donkey hides), and an African export ban — has been a hot topic this year. Now that it’s directly affecting a beloved delicacy, the issue is drawing even more public attention.
What Really Stood Out This Week

1. Why This Year’s Nanjing Memorial Day Felt Different

[#第十二个国家公祭日#] [#为30多万死难同胞发条微博#] [#19371213永不敢忘#] #[以国之名悼我同胞#]

Posters published by various Chinese state media outlets to commemorate the Nanjing Massacre.

December 13 marked the 88th anniversary of the fall of Nanjing, and this year’s Nanjing Memorial Day (南京大屠杀难者国家公祭日), although described as a low-key commemoration by foreign media, was trending all over Chinese social media.

During the Second Sino-Japanese War, on December 12, 1937, the Japanese army attacked Nanjing from various directions, and defending Chinese forces suffered heavy casualties. A day later, the city was captured. It marked the beginning of a six-week-long massacre filled with looting, arson, and rape, during which, according to China’s official data, at least 300,000 residents, including children, elderly, and women, were brutally murdered.

This year, the Nanjing Massacre Memorial Day, which was first officially held as a state-level event in 2014, carried extra weight. This dark chapter of history has continuously been a sensitive topic in Sino-Japanese relations, but with recent diplomatic tensions between the two countries reaching new heights, the Memorial Day was especially tied to current-day relations between China and Japan and to Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, who has been described by Chinese media as an “ultranationalist” with tendencies to downplay Japan’s wartime aggression. Takaichi’s November 2025 parliamentary statement that a Chinese military action against Taiwan could be considered a “survival-threatening situation” for Japan, allowing for the deployment of its Self-Defense Forces, continues to fuel Chinese anger.

The link between history and current-day bilateral relations was visible not only on social media, but also during the commemoration itself, where Shi Taifeng (石泰峰), head of the ruling Communist Party’s Organization Department, said that any attempt to revive militarism and challenge the postwar international order is “doomed to fail.”

Besides the many online posters disseminated by Chinese official accounts on social media focusing on mourning, quiet commemoration, and honoring the lives of the 300,000 Chinese compatriots killed in Nanjing, one official online visual stood out for displaying a louder and more aggressive message—namely that posted by the official Weibo account of the Eastern Theater Command of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (@东部战区).

The visual posted by the PLA Eastern Theater Command, titled: Rite of the Great Saber (大刀祭).

The visual showed a strong hand holding a giant blood-stained blade that is beheading a skeleton wearing a helmet marked “militarism,” with images related to the Nanjing Massacre visible on the blade and, behind it, a map of East Asia. The number “300000” appears in red, dripping like blood. At the top, the characters read “Rite of the Great Saber” or “The Great Saber Sacrifice” (大刀祭).

The official account explained the visual, writing: “(…) 88 years have passed and the blood of the heroic dead has not yet dried, [yet] the ghost of militarism is making a comeback. Each year, on National Memorial Day, a deafening alarm is sounded, reminding us that we must—at all times hold high the great saber offered in blood sacrifice, resolutely cut off filthy heads, never allow militarism to return, and never allow historical tragedy to be repeated.”

The text’s “cut off filthy heads” phrasing is similar to part of a now-deleted tweet sent out last month by the Chinese Consul General in Osaka, Xue Jian (薛剑), who responded to Takaichi’s controversial Taiwan remarks by writing (in Japanese): “If you come charging in on your own like that, there’s nothing to do but cut that filthy neck down without a moment’s hesitation. Are you prepared?” (“勝手に突っ込んできたその汚い首は一瞬の躊躇もなく斬ってやるしかない。覚悟が出来ているのか。”)

The recent visuals, social media approach, and shifts in texts reflect a clear change in tone in Chinese official discourse regarding Japan and the memory of war, moving the narrative from victimhood toward a more confrontational and militant tone.

2. He Qing, China’s “No. 1 Classical Beauty”, Passes Away at 61

[#演员何晴去世#][#演员何晴离世#]

He Qing. Images on the sides: the four famous roles in China’s most iconic tv dramas.

China’s “No. 1 Classical Beauty” (古典第一美女), He Qing (何晴), who starred in all four of China’s most beloved and canonical television dramas, passed away on Saturday at the age of 61. On December 14, news of the famous actress’s passing was trending across virtually all Chinese social media apps.

Born in 1964 into an artistic family in Jiangshan, Zhejiang Province, He Qing received traditional Chinese opera (Kunqu) training at the Zhejiang Kunqu Opera Troupe. Her debut in the entertainment industry may have come by chance, as she reportedly once met Chinese director Yang Jie (杨洁) on a train, which led to her joining the production of Journey to the West (西游记), where she played Lingji Bodhisattva (灵吉菩萨).

In China, He Qing is remembered as a veteran actress in much the same way that some famous Hong Kong actresses became renowned for their beauty, iconic roles, and for essentially becoming household names. More than just glitter and glamour, He Qing was especially a symbol of classical Chinese beauty and literary culture. She was the only actress to star in screen adaptations of all four of China’s “Four Great Classical Novels” (演遍四大名著): besides Journey to the West (西游记, 1986), she also appeared in Dream of the Red Chamber (红楼梦, 1987), Romance of the Three Kingdoms (三国演义, 1994), and Water Margin (水浒传, 1998).

She was married to fellow actor Xu Yajun (许亚军), with whom she had a son, Xu He (许何). Although the two later divorced, she remained close to her ex-husband and even befriended his new (and fourth) wife, Zhang Shu (张澍).

In 2015, He Qing was diagnosed with a brain tumor. After her diagnosis, she withdrew from the entertainment industry to focus on her recovery and lived a low-key life in her later years.

Her passing has prompted an outpouring of tributes from Chinese netizens and colleagues in the entertainment industry. Mourning her loss comes with a sense of nostalgia for the past, and many have praised He Qing for her timeless beauty and authenticity, which will be remembered long after her passing.

3. And Then There Were None: Dinner Party of Ten Leaves One Man with the Bill

[#10人聚餐后9人离开#] [#10人聚餐留下1人称付钱就是冤大头#]

Ten dine together, nine slip away..one left for the bill, who he refused to pay…

Do you know that nursery rhyme where ten little soldiers disappear one by one until none remain at the end? That is more or less what happened earlier this month in Chongqing, when ten people dined together at a restaurant, but—once it came time to pay—nine people left one by one.

One had to answer a phone call, another had to use the restroom, and in the end, just before midnight, only Mr. Zhang was left, facing a bill of 1,262 yuan ($180), which he refused to pay. He argued that he could not afford it and that the dinner party hadn’t been initiated by him at all; as merely a participant, the bill shouldn’t have been his responsibility.

After the restaurant called the police, the organizer of the dinner was contacted. But he, too, said he couldn’t pay. Through police mediation, Mr. Zhang then wrote a written commitment promising to pay the bill the following day and left his ID as collateral, but he still failed to make the payment.

By now, the restaurant is planning to sue and has also contacted the Chinese media. According to Zhang, who apparently has been unable to contact his “friends” to collect the money: “I did make the promise, but if I pay the money, wouldn’t that make me a sucker?” (“我的确承诺了,但你说我把钱付了,我是不是冤大头啊”)

As the story went completely viral (by now, even Hu Xijin has weighed in) comment sections filled with broader social reflections on alcohol-fueled group gatherings and unclear payment rules, where one person sometimes ends up paying for everything despite feeling it wasn’t their role to do so. In this era of digital payments, many argue it should be easy enough to go Dutch and settle the bill immediately via a group payment app.

Although Zhang is seen by some as a victim, others argue that he is still a “sucker” for not paying after having promised to do so. As one commenter put it: “Out of the ten of them, not a single one is a good person.”


Word of the Week

Real Person Vibes [活人感 (huóréngǎn)

Every December, the ten most popular buzzwords, key terms, or expressions of the year are listed by the Chinese linguistics magazine Yǎowén Jiáozì (咬文嚼字), selecting words that reflect present-day society and changing times. Each year, the list goes trending and is widely disseminated by Chinese media.

This week, the 2025 list was released, including terms such as Digital Nomads 数字游民 (shù zì yóu mín), Sū Chāo (苏超), referring to the hugely popular amateur Jiangsu Super League football competition, and “Pre-made ××” (预制, yù zhì), following a year filled with discussions about pre-fab and pre-made food (see article).

My favorite word on the list is “Real-Person Vibes” (活人感 huó rén gǎn). The term literally consists of three characters meaning “living – human – feeling,” and it describes people, stories, or things that feel unpolished, spontaneous, and unfiltered—something that has become increasingly relevant in a year dominated by AI-generated content and visuals.

Amid over-curated feeds and AI-produced text, we crave huóréngǎn: authenticity, small imperfections, and liveliness as an antidote to a digital, artificial world.

On the Feed

The 9:12 Boiled Egg That Took Over Douyin


How do you get a perfect boiled egg? A Douyin user known as “Loves Eating Eggs” (爱吃蛋) has become all the rage after leaving a precise comment on how to boil eggs. His advice: First boil the water, then add the eggs, boil for exactly 9 minutes and 12 seconds, remove, and immediately run under cold water.

That simple tip catapulted his follower count from around 200 to over 3.5 million in a single week (I just checked—he’s up to 4.2 million now).

The new viral hit is a 24-year-old self-proclaimed egg expert (of course, his English nickname should be the Eggxpert). He claims to have eaten 40 eggs a day for the past five years and knows exactly how every second of boiling, frying, or stirring affects an egg. He regularly posts videos showing eggs cooked for different lengths of time.

It has earned him the nicknames “Egg God” (蛋神) and “Boiled Egg Immortal” (煮蛋仙人), and has sent boiled eggs (9 minutes and 12 seconds exactly) all over social media feeds.

Thanks for reading this Eye on Digital China China Trend Watch. For slower-moving trends and deeper structural analysis, keep an eye on the upcoming newsletters.

And if you happen to be reading this without a subscription and appreciate my work, consider joining to receive future issues straight in your inbox.

Housekeeping reminder: if you’re receiving duplicate newsletters, it’s likely because you signed up on both the main What’s on Weibo website and the Eye on Digital China Substack. If you’re a paying member on one of the two, you may receive the premium newsletter twice. Please keep the one you’re paying for, and feel free to unsubscribe from the other.

Many thanks to Miranda Barnes for helping curate some of the topics in this edition.

Manya

Spotted an error or want to add something? Comment below or
email me. First-time commenters require manual approval.

©2025 Eye on Digital China / What’s on Weibo. Do not reproduce without permission —
contact info@whatsonweibo.com.

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China ACG Culture

10 Viral Chinese Phrases You Didn’t Know Came From Video Games

Gaming lingo isn’t just for players — it’s become part of modern-day Chinese language.

Andrew Methven

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Artwork by Zhang Zhigang for RealTime Mandarin

China has a thriving gaming culture with far-reaching impact — not just on pop culture, but on language too. Even those who aren’t into gaming inevitably use expressions that come from it. RealTime Mandarin’s Andrew Methven explains.

It might be an unexpected source, but online gaming has had a significant impact on the evolution of modern Chinese slang. Words and expressions that once appeared in gaming chat rooms or livestreams have made their way into mainstream media, business headlines, and even government rhetoric.

Let’s take one recent news story as an example: the ongoing competition between Chinese tech giants JD.com (京东) and Meituan (美团), where headlines describe the rivalry using the term “PK.”

📰 “JD “PK” Meituan: Who will dominate the trillion-yuan instant retail market?” (“京东PK美团,谁能主宰万亿即时零售市场”)

The term “PK” stands out because it’s not Chinese characters. “PK” is one of those Chinese phrases which originated from online gaming—from an imported video game—and is now common in spoken language and news coverage.

The phrase began life in the early 1990s, when text-based online games were popular in China. Those early computer games were mainly imports, and with them came the English language gaming slang.

“PK” originally was how player deaths were described in these games, meaning a “Player Kill”, to be killed by another in-game player, as opposed to a non-player character.

“Player Kill” morphed into “PK”, which is much easier to pronounce for Chinese speakers, and became common in Chinese language gameplay.

The term made its way into daily language, originally as a noun, and later evolved into a verb, with different meanings depending on context, such as to “challenge”, “defeat”, “kill”, or “eliminate”.

In the context of the battle between JD and Meituan, “PK” in the title of the news story can be translated as “vs”, “challenges” or “battles”.

“PK” is just one of many modern slang terms in Chinese which have come from online gaming, some of which we’ll share below.

But before that, even more surprising, is which games these phrases come from.

Most phrases come from a small number of blockbuster foreign games popular in China. The three main ones are:

  • League of Legends (英雄联盟): developed by Riot Games, entered China in 2011 through Tencent (China’s largest gaming company).
  • World of Warcraft (魔兽世界), released in 2004, entered China in 2005 under NetEase, another top gaming company in China.
  • Dota 2 (刀塔), the full title is Defense of the Ancients 2, which was developed by Valve and launched in 2013 and localised for the China market by Perfect World (完美世界) in the same year.

In more recent years, two homegrown Chinese video games have also generated more online slang phrases which have then gone mainstream:

  • Honour of Kings (王者荣耀), is one of the most popular mobile multiplayer online battle arena games in China, developed by Tencent, released in 2015
  • Black Myth: Wukong (黑神话:悟空) is an action role-playing game developed by the Chinese studio, Game Science. Released in 2024, Black Myth is China’s most successful video game ever.

Of these two, Honour of Kings has became so popular that it has its own slang title: “pesticide”.

The word for pesticide in Chinese is “农药” (nóng yào), which has a similar pronunciation to the word for “honour” (荣耀 róng yào) from the game’s title. So the game is jokingly called “pesticide” by its fans.

In more recent years, the term “pesticide” has taken on a darker tone, meaning the gaming industry as a whole. It’s often used in government narratives pejoratively to draw attention to the negatives of gaming, as a poisonous “spiritual opium” (精神鸦片).

Despite official pushback—including limits on how many hours children can play online each day, restrictions on gaming companies, and increasingly negative rhetoric—online games still play an important role in everyday life and language in China today.

So here’s a top 10 trending internet slang words you probably did not know came from online gaming (these have also been featured in previous Realtime Mandarin episodes).

 
TWO-CHARACTER PHRASES:

 

1. 氪金 kè jīn

 

🔍 “Spending virtual money” — over-spending online, or being tricked into online purchases

👉 氪金的实质是一种炫耀性消费,粉丝凭借大量氪金的经济实力攀爬权力阶梯  
Spending virtual cash is a kind of ‘show off consumerism’ – the more fans spend the higher they climb within fan groups.

📝Background: In the gaming context, this means “in-game purchasing” or paying for virtual goods in online games. This term was popularised by the phrase, “24K Pay-to-win Dog Eyes” (24K氪金狗眼), where “氪金” means spending large amounts of money on rare in-game items. In mainstream Chinese it means spending lots of money online, and even being conned into online or in-app purchases.

SourceWorld of Warcraft (魔兽世界)
In contextGaming stocks lose $80 billion in one day

 

2. 冲塔 chōng tǎ

 

🔍 “Attack the tower” — challenge or protest against those in authority

👉 通过在公司内网“冲塔”的方式声援该名员工
Other employees showed solidarity with her through protesting on the company’s internal web.

📝Background: This literally means “charging the tower”. In gaming it refers to a reckless move where a player, not yet strong enough, attacks a defense tower, often resulting in their own defeat. As an internet slang it means “asking for trouble” and now describes provocative actions or statements that challenge authority or censorship.

SourceLeague of Legends (英雄联盟)
In contextOur favourite phrases of 2021

 

3. 上头 shàng tou

 

🔍 “Gone in the head” — obsessed, addicted

👉 这个产品会上瘾,太有毒、上头
This product is very addictive, users have become obsessed.

📝Background: In gaming lingo, this describes a moment of impulsiveness or being irrational, and a situation where a player, after achieving several kills, becomes over confident, ignores potential risks, and charges ahead—usually resulting in their death. In modern Chinese, the phrase has come to describe any impulsive or irrational behaviour driven by emotion or excitement, and even to become addicted to something.

SourceDefence of the Ancients 2 (刀塔 2)
In contextCatching Sheep: A new computer game with an old format takes off

 

4. 团灭 tuán miè

 

🔍 “Total wipeout” — complete or total failure

👉 最坏的情况下,储能在美国的业务会被“团灭
In the worst-case scenario, the energy storage business in the U.S. will be totally wiped out.

📝Background: In gaming this means the complete defeat of an entire team during a group battle or raid, where all members are killed. In modern Chinese it describes any collective failure or complete annihilation of a group, sector, or even industry.

SourceWorld of Warcraft (魔兽世界), League of Legends (英雄联盟)
In contextChina’s exporters are feeling the pain

 

5. 破防 pò fáng

 

🔍 “Guard break” — emotionally overwhelmed

👉 网友们瞬间集体破防
Netizens were instantly overwhelmed.

📝Background: Originally from fighting games, this phrase’s direct translation is “guard break”, which means to break through an opponent’s defences (“破” means “break”; “防” means “defences”). As a modern internet slang, it means to be emotionally overwhelmed, to burst into tears, or to feel devastated. It’s normally used humorously or in an exaggerated way. The phrase became so popular it was voted one of China’s top internet slang phrases in 2023.

Source: Unknown
In context: Crashing stock markets, 31 July

 

6. 秒杀 miǎo shā

 

🔍 “Instant kill” — totally wiped out, flash sale, to snap up

👉 最近频繁刷到烤全羊秒杀套餐的钱怡,考虑再三过后还是被这个超低价给劝退了
Recently, Qian Yi kept seeing flash sale deals for whole roasted lamb, but she was discouraged by the ultra-low price after much thought.

📝Background: The direct meaning is to “kill in seconds” (“秒” is “seconds; “杀” is to “kill”). In gaming it means to kill an opponent or a monster in an instant, using a single skill or physical attack. As a mainstream slang phrase, it can mean something similar, to beat, overwhelm, or wipeout a competitor in a very short time. It has more recently evolved into a common phrase heard in livestream e-commerce broadcasts, where products are sold within a short time period—which translates as “flash sale”.

Source: Red Moon (红月)
In context: Meituan “group take-out” boom signals shifting consumer habits

 
THREE-CHARACTER PHRASES:

 

7. 带节奏 dài jié zòu

 

🔍 “Set the tempo” — to mislead public opinion (against the interests of China)

👉 不能由个别国家的单边主义给整个世界“带节奏”
We must not let the rules set by one or a few countries be imposed on others, or allow unilateralism pursued by certain countries to set the pace for the whole world (against the interests of China).

📝Background: Originally translated as “set the tempo”, this phrase was first popularised by game commentators as they described how experienced players would take the lead, organise their team, and execute coordinated attacks—which was known as “starting a wave of tempo” (“带一波节奏”). Over time, the term expanded beyond gaming into broader internet slang. It even made its way into official Chinese government rhetoric, used by its “Wolf Warrior” diplomats to mean “steering or influencing public opinion against the interests of China.”

Source: Defence of the Ancients 2 (刀塔2)
In context: Our favourite phrases of 2021

 

8. 拉仇恨 lā chóu hèn

 

🔍 “Pull hatred” — to attract criticism, or provoke resentment

👉 丁太升其实不是第一个骂的,只不过这人确实自带流量,也自带拉仇恨属性
Ding Taisheng is actually not the first one to criticise the song, but he has a big profile and what he says attracts a lot of criticism.

📝Background: This original meaning is when a player deliberately draws attention from and attacks by monsters in a game, by increasing their own “aggro” or “hate”. In these games, monsters choose their targets based on each player’s level of hate—the higher the level, the more likely a player is to be attacked. So in team battles, one teammate intentionally “pulls aggro” (拉仇恨) to draw the enemy’s attention, allowing others coordinate their attacks while the enemy is distracted. In modern Chinese, this is now commonly used to describe people who provoke resentment or jealousy—such as flaunting a romantic relationship, or showing off wealth or superiority.

Source: Unknown
In context: Pop singer is too tacky

 

9. 血槽姐 xuě cáo jiě

 
🔍 “Blood bar sister” — elites who abuse power and privilege for personal gain

👉 昨天开始,一位来自上海的余小姐,因为遭遇一场严重车祸后逃出生天,而火遍全网,进而竟获封“血槽姐”这个让人浑身不适的称号
Since yesterday, Miss Yu, a woman from Shanghai, has gone viral across the internet after surviving a severe car accident. She has since been given the disturbing nickname “Blood Bar Sister”

📝Background: The health bar, or “blood bar” (血槽 xuě cáo) in Chinese, first appeared in the 1978 arcade game Space Invaders (太空侵略者). The first graphical health bar emerged in the 1980 game Space Warrior (太空战士). Since then, the “health bar” has been a key feature in many games, offering a visual on a character’s health. The term “health bar” became part of a viral meme in November 2023, following a scandal involving a woman who became known as “blood bar sister” (血槽姐), after she shared a video online explaining how she used a powerful relative to force local officials in the Tibetan region of Ali to donate blood to her following her injury in a car crash. The “Blood Bar Sister” meme has since evolved into a more general term, representing the abuse of power and the over privilege of China’s elite.

In context: ‘Sister Blood Points’ Controversy

 

10. 黑神话 hēi shén huà

 

🔍 “Black myth” — legendary, a stunning or sector-leading success

👉 胖东来这家河南本土超市,早已成了商超领域的“黑神话” –
Pangdonglai, this local supermarket from Henan, has already become a legendary success in grocery retail.

📝Background: This is a reference to the title of China’s most successful video game ever, Wukong: Black Myth, which was released in August 2024. Its popularity was so great that the phrase “black myth” (黑神话) has taken on its own meaning as a stunning or “legendary” success of a product or company in a particular sector, which has shot to fame out of nowhere.

Source: Black Myth: Wukong
In context: Local shopping mall builds national brand

 

Other gaming phrases you should know:

 

As well as these ten phrases, all of which have now entered mainstream use, there are many more common Chinese phrases which have come from video games. Including:

● PK pī kēi — to battle

● GG gī gī — I’m done for, or it’s over

● 完爆 wán bào — totally outperform

● 农药 nóng yào — poisonous computer games (“pesticides”)

● 开挂 kāi guà — achieving something amazing or unbelievable

● 毒奶 dú nǎi – when positive words backfire

● 满血复活 mǎn xuě fù huó — significant recovery in physical or mental state

● 6666 (溜溜溜溜) liù liù liù liù — awesome, well played

So now you know—these expressions, along with many others, are Chinese “hot internet slang phrases” (网络热词) that originated in video games and have since entered widespread mainstream use.

If you want to ‘level up,’ subscribe to RealTime Mandarin, the resource to help you bridge the gap to real-world fluency, stay informed about China, and communicate with confidence in Mandarin.

By Andrew Methven

Ps—When you’re ready, there’s only one way to keep up with latest slang and lingo coming out of China every week…Join our membership, RTM Plus! It’s a self-paced program offering weekly news-based content through newsletters and podcasts, along with app integrations and tailored resources.

Members also receive personalised onboarding, one-month check-ins, and ongoing support. Find out what’s inside RTM Plus here.

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