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China Books & Literature

No Man’s City – A Chinese Blogger’s Powerful Essay About The “Fake Lives” of Beijing Residents

An essay titled “Beijing Has 20 Million People Pretending to Live There” by Chinese blogger Zhang Wumao has gone viral on Chinese social media. The essay describes how Beijing has changed into a city that is overrun by ‘outsiders’ and no longer belongs to the ‘old Beijingers.’ The article has now been censored. Chinese state media say the essay impedes good relations between Beijing’s locals and immigrants.

Manya Koetse

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An essay titled “Beijing Has 20 Million People Pretending to Live Here” by Chinese blogger Zhang Wumao (张五毛) has gone viral on Chinese social media, sparking wide debate on life in China’s capital. The essay describes how Beijing has changed into a city that is overrun by ‘outsiders’ and no longer belongs to the ‘old Beijingers.’ Chinese state media say the essay, which is now censored, polarizes the relations between Beijing’s locals and immigrants.

An online essay titled “Beijing Has 20 Million People Pretending to Live Here” (or: “There are 20 Million People in Beijing Pretending to Have a Life” “北京,有2000万人假装在生活”, full English translation here) by Chinese writer and blogger Zhang Wumao (张五毛) became a viral hit on WeChat and Weibo after it was published on the author’s WeChat account on July 23.

The essay is a witty yet powerful critique of Beijing and its residents. Over the last decade, and especially over the past few years, Beijing has undergone enormous changes. The city is expanding, high-rise buildings are mushrooming, while old hutong areas are bricked up and familiar neighborhoods demolished for the sake of the city’s metamorphosis in an ‘international metropolis.’

According to Mr. Zhang, the city’s rapid transformation has turned it into a place with no identity; a place that nobody can call home. The essay argues that Beijing has been overrun by migrant workers or waidiren (外地人, ‘people from outside the city’), and that these ‘outsiders’ have turned China’s capital into a place with staggering house prices and heavy traffic that lacks soul. The city no longer really belongs to native Beijingers, Zhang writes, as they cannot even recognize their old neighborhoods anymore.

The essay describes how Beijing has become so big, so full, and so expensive, that life has virtually become unsustainable. The result of Beijing’s transformation, according to the post, is that its residents, both locals and immigrants, just “pretend to live there”, leading “fake lives.”

 

ZHANG GUOCHEN

“It was destined to go viral. It ridicules Beijing + it talks about migrant workers + real estate market + and state of life.”

 

Zhang Wumao, whose real name is Zhang Guochen (张国臣), is an author born in the early 1980s. He is from Luonan, Shaanxi, and came to Beijing at the age of 25 in 2006. A year later he started blogging. He previously published the novels Spring is Burning (春天在燃烧) and Princess’s Tomb (公主坟).

Zhang’s online essay about Beijing spread like wildfire on WeChat and Weibo on Sunday. It was viewed over 5 million times within an evening and soon became a trending article on WeChat. It triggered wide debate across Chinese social media on the lives of people in Beijing.

WeChat’s “Today” overview showing dozens of mentions of Zhang’s essay earlier this week. (via zhihu.com)

On Monday and Tuesday, the essay was also republished by various Chinese media such as Tencent News, iFeng, and Sohu.com.

But on July 25, the full text was removed from all social media accounts and Chinese online newspapers. Its hashtag on Weibo (#北京有2000万人假装在生活#) is now no longer accessible.

On Tuesday, any link for the online essay came up with a ‘404 page’ saying: “Cannot open – you can no longer view this page!”

The article also disappeared from Zhang’s WeChat account.

Zhang’s Wechat account shows that the article from July 23 has now been deleted.

On Quora-like discussion platform Zhihu.com, one person said the essay was destined to become a hype: “This is a typical Wechat viral article. It ridicules Beijing + it talks about migrant workers + real estate market + and state of life. As it contains all of these elements in 1 article, the author just intended for this to become a hit.”

 

A SENSITIVE ESSAY

“What Beijingers increasingly feel is the suffocation of the smog and the high cost of housing. They cannot move, they cannot breathe.”

 

Zhang’s essay is divided into five paragraphs. In the first part, he explains that Beijingers often seem inhospitable; the city is so huge and congested, that people simply cannot find the time to see their friends in other parts of the city.

“Beijing is really too big; so big that it is simply not like a city at all. It is equivalent to 2.5 times Shanghai, 8.4 times Shenzhen, 15 times Hong Kong, 21 times New York, or 27 times Seoul. When friends from outside come to Beijing, they think they’re close to me. But actually, we’re hardly in the same city at all.”

“For 10 years, Beijing has been controlling housing, controlling traffic, and controlling the population. But this pancake is only getting wider and bigger, so much that when a school friend from Xi’an calls me to say he’s in Beijing and I ask him where he is, he tells me: “I am at the 13th Ring.” Beijing is a tumor, and no one can control how fast it is growing; Beijing is a river, and no one can draw its borders. Beijing is a believer, and only Xiong’an can bring salvation.”

The second part, which is titled ‘Beijing actually belongs to outsiders’ (北京其实是外地人的北京), claims that Beijing is one of the most beloved cities in China because of its rich cultural heritage and long history, but that this is something that is only of value to people from outside the city.

“In the 11 years since I’ve come to Beijing, I have been to the Great Wall 11 times, 12 times the Imperial Palace, 9 times to the Summer Palace, and 20 times to the Bird’s Nest. I feel emotionless about this city’s great architecture and long history. (..) Going into the Forbidden City, I only see one empty house after the other – it’s less interesting than the lively pigsties we have in my native village.”

“Upon mentioning Beijing, many people first think of the Palace Museum, Houhai, 798; they think of history, culture, and high-rise buildings. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? It’s good! Does it make us proud? It does! But you can’t make food out of these things. What Beijingers increasingly feel is the suffocation of the smog and the high cost of housing. They cannot move, they cannot breathe.”

He then goes on to mock the old residents of Beijing, who still have the upper hand in the real estate market despite the flood of new immigrants, all owning “five-room houses.” The old Beijingers lead very different lives from the migrant workers, who are caught in a negative spiral of hard work, no social life, and finding a place to settle down.

“In Beijing, the migrant workers, who have no real estate from previous generations, are destined to be trapped in their house for life. They strive for over a decade to buy an apartment the size of a bird cage; then spend another decade struggling to get a house that has two rooms rather than one. If that goes well, congratulations, you can now consider an apartment in the school district.”

“With a house in the school district, children can attend Tsinghua or Peking University. But Tsinghua graduates will still not be able to afford a room in that district. They will then either need to stay crammed together in the old shabby family apartment, or start from scratch, struggling for another apartment.”

 

“For Beijing’s new immigrants, the city is a distant place where they can’t stay; for Beijing’s old residents, the city is an old home they can’t return to.”

 

In the final part of the essay, however, Zhang shows his sympathy for the old residents of Beijing:

“I once took a taxi to Lin Cui Road. Because I was afraid the driver wouldn’t know the way, I opened the navigation on my phone to help him find the way. He said he did not need the navigation because he knew that place. There was a flour mill there 30 years ago, he said, it was demolished 10 years ago, and they built low-income housing there. I asked him how he knew this so well. “That used to be my home,” he said, the sorrow showing in his face.”

“I could hear nostalgia and resentment from the driver’s words. For Beijing’s new immigrants, the city is a distant place where they can’t stay; for Beijing’s old residents, the city is an old home they can’t return to.”

“We, as outsiders, ridicule Beijing on the one hand, while on the other hand, we cherish our hometowns. But in fact, we can still go back to our hometown. It is still there. (..) But for the old Beijingers, there really is no way to go back to their hometown. It has changed with unprecedented speed. We can still find our grandfather’s old house. The majority of Beijingers can only find the location of their old homes through the coordinates on a map.”

He concludes his article by highlighting the recent demolishment of old Beijing shops and restaurants, saying that the city is being renovated but is becoming less livable.

“Those who chase their dreams of success are now escaping [Beijing]. They’re off to Australia, New Zealand, Canada, or the West Coast of the United States. Those who’ve lost hope of chasing their dreams are also escaping. They return to Hebei, the Northeast, their hometowns.”

He ends by writing: “There are over 20 million people left in this city, pretending to live. In reality, there simply is no life in this city. Here, there are only some people’s dreams and everybody’s jobs.”

 

CHINESE MEDIA RESPONSES

“The contrast between old Beijingers and new immigrants is exaggerated, and it polarizes the relationship between locals and outsiders.”

 

Despite censorship of the actual text, Zhang’s essay is widely discussed by Chinese official media.

State media outlet People’s Daily (@人民日报) writes on Weibo:

“The essay ‘Beijing Has 20 Million People Pretending to Live There’ is a viral hit but is not approved of. There really is such a thing as the “Big City Disease”, and we do not need to pretend as if people in first-tier cities are not struggling and facing hardships. But in Beijing, both locals and outsiders are alive and kicking; they are all the more real because of their dreams. Making a living is hard, but it is the days of watching flowers blossom and wilt that are full of life. The city and its people don’t have it easy, but they have to show some tolerance for each other and then they can both succeed.”

Xinhua News Agency also published a response to the article titled: “Lives in the City Cannot Be Fake” (“一个城市的生活无法“假装“).

Lashing out against Mr. Zhang, they write that: “Beijing has no human warmth, Beijing is a city of outsiders, old Beijingers can’t go back to their city – behind every one of these sentences is not the ‘fakeness’ of Beijing, but the clamor of the author’s emotions about ‘coming to Beijing.'”

State broadcaster CCTV (@央视新闻) also responds to the essay on Weibo, saying:

“Over the past few days, the essay ‘Beijing Has 20 Million People Pretending to Live There’ has exploded on the Internet, but how the text portrays the contrast between old Beijingers and new immigrants is exaggerated, and it polarizes the relationship between native Beijingers and outsiders. In reality, Beijing is not as cold as it is described in the essay. Everyone already knows that it’s not easy living in a big city. The future of Beijing is in the hands of competent, daring and hardworking people who pursue their dreams.”

 

A STORM OF DEBATE

“I am one of these 20 million people, and my life is not fake – I am living it.”

 

On social media, many netizens commented on the state media’s responses to Zhang, saying they were tired of the repeated emphasis on “people’s dreams.” One person said: “My belly is empty, what are you talking about dreams for?! Dreams cannot guarantee our most basic needs for survival.”

Many people on Weibo and QQ also applauded Zhang’s essay for being “well-written”, “honest”, and “real.”

But there are also those who do not agree with the essay and take offense at how it describes Beijingers leading “fake” or “pretense” lives. A Beijing resident nicknamed ‘Little Fish’ (@小小的爱鱼) commented: “What on earth gave him the courage to speak on behalf of 20 million Beijing people? I am one of these 20 million people, and sorry, but my life is not fake – I am living it.”

“I work overtime until 9 pm, then take the bus and subway and won’t arrive home before 23:38, then quickly rinse my face and brush my teeth and roll into bed. But it’s still life. What life and being alive is all about ultimately is a personal issue,” one other netizen from Beijing says.

“Mr. Zhang,” one angry commenter writes: “You can leave this cold and big city of Beijing, and go back to your ‘real’ live in that pigsty of yours that’s supposedly more imposing than the Forbidden City.”

The recent hype surrounding Zhang’s essay somewhat resembles the overnight buzz over the autobiographical essay of Beijing migrant worker Fan Yusu. This essay also described various hardships in the lives of Beijing migrant workers.

Fan Yusu’s essay and posts related to it were also taken offline after several days when discussions on the account spread across Chinese social media.

Zhang’s hit essay shows that the combination of writing about “migrant workers + Beijing + real estate + state of life” = indeed one that is bound to attract wide attention and debate on social media. Although it is also a recurring topic in China’s official media, those channels prefer to focus on the idea of hardworking people who pursue their (Chinese) dreams, rather than to spread a narrative about people living “fake lives” in a cold city.

One commenter says: “Whether you fake it or you try hard, it’s all okay: this is Beijing. It’s not livable, but you sure can make a living.”

By Manya Koetse

Special thanks to Diandian Guo.

©2017 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.

Manya Koetse is a sinologist, writer, and public speaker specializing in China’s social trends, digital culture, and online media ecosystems. She founded What’s on Weibo in 2013 and now runs the Eye on Digital China newsletter. Learn more at manyakoetse.com or follow her on X, Instagram, or LinkedIn.

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China Arts & Entertainment

Su Chao Fever, Mo Yan’s “Scrollable” Book, and Why Li Xiaoran is China’s New Office Icon

This week in China: Grassroots football fever, a Nobel laureate writes for the TikTok era, France’s cultural relic bill, and a 19-year-old’s blind box obsession bankrupts her father’s company.

Manya Koetse

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🔥 China Trend Watch (week 16/17 | 2026) Part of Eye on Digital China by Manya Koetse, China Trend Watch is an overview of what’s trending and being discussed on Chinese social media.

Dear reader,

Hope you’re having a good week. Time for an update on what’s been trending.

In this newsletter:

👉Victor Hugo’s day has come
👉China’s grassroots football couldn’t get more viral
👉A scrollable new book by Mo Yan
👉The Chinese office meme of the moment

..and more.

Let’s dive in.

Quick Scroll

    • 📱 China’s National Security Ministry has joined Chinese Tiktok app Douyin. The high-profile Douyin debut is part of a broader trend of Chinese government agencies and security bodies joining the app.
    • 🐺 A feel-good wildlife story from Inner Mongolia: a pregnant wild wolf descended from the mountains to give birth at a wildlife conservation station where she had been previously fed. The noteworthy move shows she had apparently developed trust in the station workers, and felt safe there.
    • 🐖 Pork prices hit historic lows but spare ribs still cost 20 yuan (US$3) – this became a topic of discussion this week. Despite the drop in pig prices, retail pork still feels expensive because added costs across the supply chain haven’t changed.
    • 🍿 Movie alert. The May Day (五一) cinema content explosion is incoming. Seventeen films have already been slotted for the Golden Week holiday window.
    • 🚔 A 31-year-old man from Guangzhou has been detained under anti-cyberbullying regulations after repeatedly posting insulting comments targeting Olympic champion diver Quan Hongchan (全红婵) on WeChat.
    • 🤖 Unitree’s humanoid robot is almost as fast as Usain Bolt. The company announced that the H1 humanoid robot achieved a peak sprint speed of 10 meters per second during a 100-meter test.
    • ⚡️ Another robot, “Lightning” (闪电) by Honor, also went viral because he won the Beijing Yizhuang Half Marathon on Sunday, April 19, running a half-marathon distance faster than any human ever has, completing it in 50 minutes and 26 seconds (the human record: 56:42). (See video here).
    • 🎁 A 19-year-old woman from Zhengzhou has made headlines for allegedly embezzling around 17 million yuan (nearly $2.5 million) from her father’s company, spending it on blind boxes and livestream tipping (dashang 打赏). Her father, now bankrupt, ended up taking his daughter to the police himself.

What Really Stood Out

The Jiangsu Super League (Su Chao) Fever

[#苏超开幕式] [#何润东项羽造型亮相苏超观后感#]

The Jiangsu Football City League, better known as the Su Chao (苏超: “the Su Super”), has become a major source of trending topics, memes, and news analyses over the past week.

The “Su Super” is a provincial amateur football tournament launched in 2025 that features 13 teams, one representing each of Jiangsu’s 13 prefecture-level cities. Teams consist predominantly of amateur players, from primary school teachers to office employees, but it’s been seriously successful: last year, some games regularly drew crowds of over 30,000, with a record 60,396 fans for a Nanjing–Suzhou match.

This year, the season’s opening on April 11 was sensational, almost like a mini Spring Festival Gala of its own, with 300 robots from tech company Magic Atom (魔法原子) performing a perfectly synchronized routine—unbothered by the heavy rain—and popular pop singer Zhou Shen (周深) delivering a much-discussed live performance where he hit some incredibly high notes.

It’s the entertainment and creative memes that seem to matter more than the sport itself.

⚽ When Changzhou won 3–0 in its opening match against Nantong, in a stadium filled with more than 40,800 people, the running joke was that the city of “Changzhou” (常州) could add more “strokes” to its name. This is all part of a bigger meme that started last year, when netizens would ‘deduct’ a character stroke from Changzhou’s name after every time it lost, with its Chinese name going from 常州 to 巾州 to 丨州, until netizens joked there were no strokes left to remove (0州)—Changzhou performed quite terribly.

The “chang” character kept losing strokes as Changzhou lost in the 2025 Su Chao (edited image by netizens).

But with this year’s unexpected win, Changzhou struck back, and the official city account flipped the joke by temporarily renaming itself 常洲, with the three-water-drop radical added to the zhou 州, symbolizing its three goals scored (#常州暂时改名常洲#).

⚽ More than that, Changzhou city officials announced a one-day citywide holiday on April 12, with free public buses and metro for all residents. It was almost like a New Year’s night: major landmarks also stayed lit throughout the night.

⚽ Another meme sprang from a giant inflatable dinosaur that was set up before the match, part of Changzhou’s dino-city branding (it is home to China Dinosaur Park). It was meant to look cool and majestic, but netizens thought it resembled a shiny, greasy, reddish-brown soy-braised duck (酱板鸭) instead, leading to the “Soy-braised dragon” meme (酱板龙).

The dino that looked more like a soy-braised duck and “soy-braised dragon” merchandise sold on Taobao.

⚽ During the Suqian vs. Nanjing match on April 18, another highlight featured actor He Rundong (何润东), who appeared dressed in full armor and surrounded by guards and horses, revisiting his famous role as the ancient warlord Xiang Yu (项羽)—the historical figure associated with Suqian as his birthplace. He shouted “Xiang Yu has returned!” (“我项羽回来啦”), a moment that became even more significant after Suqian won 2–0.

⚽ What also stands out in the marketing surrounding the Su Chao is how, alongside the official mascots, Jiangsu media, companies, and fans have been producing AI-generated “city personification” figures featured in images and short videos, with storylines about winning, losing, friendship, and rivalry between the 13 cities in a virtual world. Changzhou is a little dino, Nanjing is a little duck, Nantong is a wolf, etc.

The success of the Jiangsu Super League does not appear out of nowhere: for the past few years, China’s grassroots football has seen a wave of success, with local governments and companies using these leagues and matches to boost local cultural identity and community cohesion, while city-vs-city rivalry and banter consistently trends on social media.

Within this bigger picture, the Village Super League (村超, Cun Chao)—a community football tournament held in Rongjiang County in Guizhou—is a frontrunner. What started as a self-organized village event in 2023 became one of the most-watched grassroots sports stories in recent years.

With China’s national football plagued by underperformance, corruption, and other scandals, more voices are suggesting that the future of Chinese soccer might lie in regional and local super leagues.

Regardless of whether that is true, it is undeniable that phenomena like the Su Chao are bringing a lot of online fun, memes, banter, commercial success, and positive community energy. In doing so, they generate more authentic online engagement than any professional league matches currently do.

France Returning Cultural Relics: “Hugo’s Day Has Come”

[#法国将不义之财归还被抢掠的中国#] [#雨果写的文字成真了#]

It is not often that the French National Assembly goes trending in China, but it did after unanimously passing a cultural restitution bill that makes it easier to return looted colonial-era objects.

The new bill allows countries to request the return of objects taken between 1815 and 1972, provided they can show the items were acquired by force or other illegitimate means. It marks a shift from the previous, slower, case-by-case restitution system, where every single return required a separate parliamentary vote.

In Chinese media, the news was highlighted through a quote by French politician Jérémie Patrier-Leitus, who in his speech cited Victor Hugo’s famous 1861 letter about the sacking of the Old Summer Palace (Yuanmingyuan), in which he expressed hope that a renewed France would one day return the goods it had plundered from China. Patrier-Leitus said: “The day Hugo longed for has finally arrived.”

Screenshot of the tweet by Jérémie Patrier-Leitus, in translation.

For Chinese audiences, the story carries strong emotional resonance. The looting of the Old Summer Palace in 1860 by French and British forces is widely taught at school as part of the so-called “Century of Humiliation,” the period from the mid-1800s to the mid-1900s during which China was attacked, weakened, and torn by foreign powers. The four-character slogan “wù wàng guóchǐ” (勿忘国耻), “Never forget national humiliation”, is frequently repeated in Chinese media, museums, schools, documentaries, and popular culture.

Besides state media and nationalist commentary, other discussions also emerged online. Some threads focused on which artifacts could potentially be returned to China, mainly linked to the burning of the Old Summer Palace in 1860 and the 1908 Dunhuang removals (although this remains contested as “looting”: it concerns French scholar Paul Pelliot, who acquired thousands of invaluable ancient manuscripts and artworks from a monk guarding a cave at Dunhuang for very little money, and took them to Paris, where they have remained ever since).

Other comments expressed hope that France would set an example for other countries.

Although the news went big in China, French media coverage itself did not mention China at all and instead focused on Benin, Senegal, Côte d’Ivoire, Mexico, and Algeria.

On the Feed

A Scrollable New Book by Mo Yan

Mo Yan (莫言), China’s first Nobel laureate in literature, has been praised as a “meme king” for quickly adapting to China’s online Xiaohongshu community since joining the app in November 2025.

Now, the famous author—known for epic works like Red Sorghum (红高粱)—has again become a hot topic for publishing a new book inspired by his own social media and short-video scrolling “addiction.”

The novel, titled Oh, People (Rén Na 人呐), is his first new fiction in six years and immediately hit the top of major bestseller lists upon release. It’s a collection of 81 ultra-short pieces, the briefest of which runs just 200 characters, and is designed, in Mo Yan’s own description, so that readers can “scroll through it” the way they scroll TikTok.

This format is sparking discussion across Chinese social media, especially because it comes from a writer of Mo Yan’s stature.

One core question is whether a Nobel laureate should be writing “fast literature” that mimics short-video logic, and whether this suggests that even China’s most lauded authors are giving in to platform-driven attention economics.

Others argue that the book’s format is not entirely new, and could just as easily be traced back to classical Chinese literary traditions rather than the TikTok era.

These debates may be precisely the point of Mo Yan’s new book. Is it merely scrollable, or is it serious? Through these discussions, his work already engages with two important aspects of contemporary Chinese society: the country’s changing reading culture and the dominance of short-video platforms.

Word of the Week

The Office Li Xiaoran

The phrase of the week is “the Office Li Xiaoran” (Bàngōngshì Lǐ Xiǎorǎn 办公室李小冉).

The phrase comes from the 7th season of the super popular reality/talent show Sisters Who Make Waves (乘风2026), where the 50-year-old Chinese actress Li Xiaoran (李小冉) performed with her group, which also included Olympic skater Wang Meng (王濛).

Li Xiaoran was completely and painfully off-key, off-tempo, forgetting lyrics, and stiff in her choreography — but she stayed calm and cheerfully smiled through it all.

The dreadful performance of the song—officially titled “Wish Sticky Note” (心愿便利贴)—was soon dubbed Wantong Jingutai (万通筋骨贴) by netizens, referring to a Chinese medicinal patch for joint pain. (It’s a wordplay on the title, sharing the same final character: “这不是心愿便利贴,这是万通筋骨贴”).

Ironically, Li was professionally trained at the prestigious Beijing Dance Academy, but dropped out to become an actress—prompting some netizens to joke that instead of saying “the dance world lost a great talent,” it “lost someone completely irrelevant” (#舞蹈界失去了一个无关紧要的人#).

But it wasn’t all meant in a mean way. Because people actually very much appreciated Li Xiaoran’s performance. Although it didn’t go very well, she seemed unbothered and positive, which is why viewers eventually voted her to the number one spot on the show that night.

In the aftermath, office workers started collectively joking that they’ve been “diagnosed as the Office Li Xiaoran.”

The phrase “Office Li Xiaoran” (bàngōngshì Lǐ Xiǎorǎn, 办公室李小冉) has become a viral self-label for workers who feel they are underperforming and barely surviving, but maintain a smile and stoically carry on regardless.

There’s now also a trend where people in the office signal to colleagues that they’re “Office Li Xiaoran” by putting a sign on their chairs.

In the example below it says:

Officially diagnosed as ‘Office Li Xiaoran
First to arrive every day, last to leave. Submit my work, and the boss asks: ‘What is this even supposed to be?’
Me: ‘No lip-syncing, not afraid of the stage, not pretending, doesn’t sound good—but I really did try!’

In a way, Li Xiaoran has become the perfect vehicle for office emotional catharsis—an unexpected idol for how to carry on in stressful situations. The ultimate lesson she taught us: even if everything’s going wrong, a good attitude, a splash of confidence, and a bright smile can take you surprisingly far.

See the videos here.

 

That’s a wrap.

See you next edition.

Best,

Manya


 

 

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. If you’re already subscribed and want to switch platforms, just get in touch for help. If you no longer wish to receive these newsletters, or are receiving duplicate editions, you can unsubscribe at any time.

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China Arts & Entertainment

Chiung Yao’s Suicide Farewell Letter: An English Translation

Manya Koetse

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Chinese netizens mourned the passing of Taiwanese writer Chiung Yao (琼瑶) this week. Chiung Yao, one of China’s most beloved romance novelists, passed away at the age of 86.

Among her many works, Chiung Yao is cherished by many netizens in mainland China as part of their collective memories from the 1980s and 1990s. Some of the most iconic Chinese dramas, such as My Fair Princess (also: Return of the Pearl Princess, 還珠格格), were written by Chiung Yao.

On December 4, she was found on her sofa at home, leaving behind a suicide note. The cause of death was determined to be asphyxiation due to carbon monoxide poisoning.

In her farewell letter to loved ones and fans, she wrote the following:

To all my dear friends:

Do not cry, do not grieve, and do not feel sad for me. I have already fluttered away [翩然 piānrán] effortlessly.

I love the word “翩然” [piānrán]. It represents flying in the air independently, easily, and freely. Elegantly and gracefully, I have shed the body that gradually caused me pain and have ‘fluttered away,’ transforming into snowflakes flying into the sky.

This was my wish. “Death” is a journey everyone must take—it is the final significant event in life. I did not want to leave it to fate, nor did I want to wither away slowly. I wanted to have the final say in this final event.

God has not designed the process of life particularly well. When a person grows old, they have to go through a very painful period of ‘becoming weak, degeneration, illness, hospitalization, treatment, and fatal illness.’ This period, may it be long or short, is a tremendous torment for those who are destined to grow old and die! Worst of all, some may become bedridden, dependent on tubes for survival. I have witnessed such tragedies, and I do not want that kind of “death.”

I am a “spark,” and I have already burned as brightly as I could. Now, before the flame finally dims, I have chosen this way to make a light departure. I have recorded everything I wish to say in my video “When Snowflakes Fall Down” (当雪花飘落). I hope my friends can watch it a few times to grasp everything I wanted to express.

Friends, do not mourn my death but smile for me! The beauty of life lies in the ability to love, hate, laugh, cry, sing, speak, run, move, be together until death parts us, live freely, despise evil with a passion, and live life boldly. I have experienced all these things in my lifetime! I truly ‘lived’ and did not waste this life.

What I find hardest to let go of are my family and all of you. “Love” is what is tightly bound to my heart, and I am reluctant to part with you. To allow my soul (if humans even have souls) to also ‘flutter away,’ please laugh for me, sing loudly for me, and dance in the breeze for me! My spirit in the heavens will dance together with you!

Farewell, my dearest ones! I am grateful for this life, where I had the chance to meet and know you all.

Take note of the way I died: I was at the final station of my life! For those of you who are still young, never give up on life lightly. Momentary setbacks or blows may be the “training” for a beautiful life. I hope you will be able to endure those, as I did, and live to 86, 87.. years old. When your physical strength fades, then decide how to face death. By then, perhaps they will have found more humane ways to help the elderly “leave joyfully.”

Dear friends, be brave, be the greatest version of yourself. Do not waste your journey through this world! Though this world is not perfect, it is filled with unexpected joys, sorrows, and laughter. Don’t miss out on all the wonders out there for you.

There are a thousand more things to say, but in the end, I wish everyone health, happiness, and a life of freedom and joy.

This translation was previsously published on my X channel here.

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

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