Labubu – the hottest toy of 2025 – is making headlines everywhere these days. The little creature is all over TikTok, and from New York to Bangkok and Dubai, people are lining up for hours to get their hands on the popular keyring doll.

In the UK, the Labubu hype has gone so far that its maker temporarily pulled the toys from all of its stores for “safety reasons,” following reports of customers fighting over them. In the Netherlands, the sole store where fans can buy the toys also had to hire extra security to manage the crowds, and Chinese customs authorities have intensified their efforts to prevent the dolls from being smuggled out of the country.

While the Labubu craze had slightly cooled in China compared to its initial peak, the character remains hugely popular and surged back into the top trending charts with the launch of POP MART’s Labubu 3.0 series in late April 2025 (which instantly sold out).

Following the global popularity of the Chinese game Black Myth: Wukong, state media are citing Labubu as another example of a successful Chinese cultural export—calling it ‘a benchmark for China’s pop culture’ and viewing its success as a sign of the globalization of Chinese designer toys.

But how ‘Chinese’ is Labubu, really? Here’s a closer look at its cultural identity and the story behind the trend.

The Journey to Labubu

In the perhaps unlikely case you have never heard of Labubu, I’ll explain: it’s a keyring toy with a naughty and, frankly, somewhat bizarre face and gremlin-like appearance that comes in various colors and variations. It’s mainly loved by young (Gen Z) women, who like to hang the toys on their bags or just keep them as collectibles.

The figurine is based on a character created by renowned Hong Kong-born artist Kasing Lung (龍家昇/龙家升, born 1972), whose work is inspired by Nordic legends of elves.

Kasung Lung, image via Bangkok Post.

Lung’s story is quite inspirational, and very international.

As a child, Lung immigrated to the Netherlands with his parents. Struggling to learn Dutch, young Kasing was given plenty of picture books. The picture books weren’t just a way to connect with his new environment, it also sparked a lifelong love for illustration.

Among Kasing’s favorite books were Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak and those by Edward Gorey — all full of fantasy, with some scary elements and artistic quality.

Later, as his Dutch improved, Kasing became an avid reader and turned into a true bookworm. The many fantasy novels and legendary tales he devoured planted the seed for creating his own world of elves and mythical creatures.

Kasing as a young boy on the right, and one of his children’s illustration books on the left.

After initially returning to Hong Kong in the 1990s, Lung later moved back to the Netherlands and eventually settled in Belgium.

Following a journey of many rejections and persistence, he began publishing his own illustrations and picture books for the European market.

Image via Sina.

In 2010, Hong Kong toy brand How2work’s Howard Lee reached out to Lung. One of How2work’s missions is cultivating creative talent and supporting the Hong Kong art scene. Lee invited Kasung to turn his illustrations into 3D, collectible figurines. Kasung, a collector of Playmobil figures since childhood, agreed to the collaboration for the sake of curiosity and creativity.

Lung’s partnership with How2work marked a transition to toy designer, although Lung also continued to stay active as an illustrator. Besides his own “Max is moe” (Max is tired) picture book, he also did illustrations for a series by renowned Belgian author Brigitte Minne (Lizzy leert zwemmen, Lizzy leert dansen).

A few years later, Lung introduced what would become known as The Monsters Trilogy: a fantasy universe populated by elf-like creatures. Much like The Smurfs, the Monsters formed a tribe of distinct characters, each with their own personalities and traits, led by a tribal leader named Zimomo.

With its quirky appearance, sharp teeth, and mischievous grin, Labubu stood out as one of the long-eared elves.

When Labubu Met POPMART

Although the Labubu character has been around since 2015, it took some time to gain fame. It wasn’t until Labubu became part of POP MART’s (泡泡玛特) toy lineup in 2019 that it began reaching a mass audience.

POP MART is a Chinese company specializing in artsy toys, figurines, and trendy, pop culture-inspired goods. Founded in 2010 by a then college student, the brand launched with a mission to “light up passion and bring joy,” with a particular focus on young female consumers (15-30 age group) (Wang 2023).

One of POP MART’s most iconic art toy characters—and its first major commercial success—is Molly, designed by Hong Kong artist Kenny Wong in collaboration with How2work.

Prices vary depending on the toy, but small figurines start as low as 34 RMB (about US$5), while collectibles can go as high as 5,999 yuan (US$835). Resellers often charge significantly more.

Pop Mart and its first major commercial success: Molly (source).

POP MART is more than just a store, it’s an operational platform that covers the entire chain of trendy toys, from product development to retail and marketing (Liu 2025).

Within a decade of opening it first store in Beijing, POP MART experienced explosive growth, expanded globally, and was listed on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange.

The enormous success of POP MART has been the subject of countless marketing studies, drawing various conclusions about how the company managed to hit such a cultural and commercial sweet spot beyond its mere focus on female Gen Z consumers.

🎁 Gamifying consumption | One common conclusion about the success of POP MART, is that it offers more than just products—it offers an experience. At the heart of the brand is its signature blind box model, where customers purchase mystery boxes from specific product lines without knowing which item is inside. Those who are lucky enough will unpack a special ‘hidden edition.’ Originating in Japanese capsule toy culture, this element of surprise gamifies the shopping experience, makes it more shareable on social media, and fuels the desire to complete collections or hunt for rare figures through repeat purchases.

🌍 Creating a POP MART universe | Although POP MART has partnerships with major international brands such as Disney, Marvel, and Snoopy, it places a strong focus on developing its own intellectual property (IP) toys and figurines. In doing so, POP MART has created a universe of original characters, giving them a life beyond the store through things like collaborations, art shows and exhibitions, and even its own theme park in Beijing.

💖 Emotional consumption | What makes POP MART particularly irresistible to so many consumers is the emotional appeal of its toys and collectibles. It taps into nostalgia, cuteness, and aesthetic charm. The toys become companions, either as a desktop buddy or travel buddy. Much of the toys’ value lies in their role as social currency, driven by hype, emotional gratification, and a sense of social bonding and identity (Ge 2024).

The man behind POP MART and its strategy is founder and CEO Wang Ning (王宁), a former street dance champion (!) and passionate entrepreneur with a clear vision for the company. He consistently aims to discover the next iconic design, something that could actually rival Mickey Mouse or Hello Kitty.

In past interviews, Wang has discussed how consumer values are gradually shifting. The rise of niche toys into the mainstream, he says, reflects this transformation. Platforms like Douyin, China’s strong e-commerce infrastructure, and the digital era more broadly have all contributed to changing attitudes, where people are increasingly buying not for utility, but for the sake of happy moments.

While Wang Ning dreams of a more joyful world, he also knows how to make money (with a net worth of $20.3 billion USD, it was actually just announced that he’s Henan’s richest person now)—every new artist and toy design under POP MART is carefully researched and strategically evaluated before being signed.

Labubu’s journey before its POP MART partnership had already shown its appeal: Kasing Lung and How2Work had built a small but loyal fanbase pre-2019. But it was through the power of POP MART that Labubu really reached global fame.

Labubu: Most Wanted

Riding the wave of POP MART’s global expansion, Labubu became a breakout success, eventually evolving into a global phenomenon and cultural icon.

Now, celebrities around the world are flaunting their Labubus, further fueling the hype—from K-pop star Lisa Manobal to Thai Princess Sirivannavari and Barbadian singer Rihanna.

In China, one of the most-discussed topics on social media recently is the staggering resale price of the Labubu dolls.

Third edition of the beloved Labubu series titled “Big into energy” (Image via Pop Mart Hong Kong).

“The 99 yuan [$13.75] Labubu blind box is being hyped up to 2,600 yuan [$360]” (#99元Labubu隐藏款被炒至2600元#), Fengmian News recently reported.

Labubu collaborations and limited editions are even more expensive. Some, like the Labubu x Vans edition, originally retailed for 599 yuan ($83) and are now listed for as much as 14,800 yuan ($2,055).

Recently, Taiwanese singer and actor Jiro Wang (汪东城) posted a video venting his frustration over scalpers buying up all the Labubus and reselling them at outrageous prices. “It’s infuriating!” he said. “I can’t even buy one myself!” (#汪东城批Labubu黄牛是恶人#).

One Weibo hashtag asks: “Who is actually buying these expensive Labubus?” (#几千块的Labubu到底谁在买#).

Turns out—many people are.

Not only is Labubu adored and collected by millions, an entire subculture has emerged around the toy. Especially in China, where Labubu was famous before, the monster is now entering a new phase: playful customization. Fans are using the toy as a canvas to tell new stories and deepen their emotional connection, transforming Labubu from a collectible into a DIY project.

Labubu getting braces and net outfits – evolving from collectible to DIY project.

There’s a growing trend of dressing Labubu in designer couture or dynastic costumes (Taobao offers a wide array of outfits), but fans are going further—customizing flower headbands, adorning their dolls with tooth gems, or even giving them orthodontic braces for their famously crooked teeth (#labubu牙套#).

In online communities, some fans have gone as far as creating dedicated generative AI agents for Labubu, allowing others to generate images of the character in various outfits, environments, and scenarios.

Labubu AI by Mewpie.

It’s no longer just the POP MART universe—it’s the Labubu universe now.

“Culturally Odorless”

So, how ‘Chinese’ is Labubu really? Actually, Labubu is not ‘Chinese’ at all—and at the same time, it is very much a product of present-day China.

🌍 Not Chinese at all

Like other famous IP characters, from the Dutch Miffy to Japan’s Pikachu and Hello Kitty, Labubu is “culturally odorless,” a term used to refer to how cultural features of the country of invention are absent from the product itself.

The term was coined by Japanese scholar Koichi Iwabuchi to describe how Japanese media products—particularly in animation—are designed or marketed to minimize identifiable Japanese cultural traits. This erasure of “Japaneseness” helped anime (from Astro Boy to Super Mario and Pokémon) become a globally appealing and commercially successful cultural export, especially in post-WWII America and beyond.

Moreover, by avoiding culturally or nationally specific traits, these creations are placed in a kind of fantasy realm, detached from real-world identities. Somewhat ironically, it is precisely this neutrality that has made Japanese IPs so distinctively recognizable as “Japanese” (Du 2019, 15).

Many Labubu fans probably also don’t see the toy as “Chinese” at all—there are no obvious cultural references in its design. Its style and fantasy feel are arguably closer to Japanese anime than anything tied to Chinese identity.

When a Weibo blogger recently argued that Labubu’s international rise represents a more powerful example of soft power than DeepSeek, one popular reply asked: “But what’s Chinese about it?”

🇨🇳 Actually very Chinese

Yet, Labubu is undeniably a product of today’s China—not necessarily because of Kasing Lung (Hong Kong/Dutch/Belgian) or How2work (Hong Kong), but because of the Beijing-based POP MART.

Wang Ning’s POP MART is a true product of its time, inspired by and aligned with China’s new wave of digital startups. From Bytedance to Xiaohongshu and Bilibili, many of China’s most innovative companies move beyond horizontal product offerings or traditional service goals. Instead, they think vertically and break out of the box—evolving into entire ecosystems of their own. (Fun fact: the entrepreneurs behind these companies were all born in the 1980s, between 1983 and 1989).

In that sense, state media like People’s Daily calling Labubu “a benchmark of China’s pop culture” isn’t off the mark.

Still, some marketing critics argue there’s room for more ‘Chineseness’ in Labubu and POP MART’s brand-building strategies—particularly through collections inspired by Chinese heritage, which could further promote national culture on the global stage (Wang 2023).

Meanwhile, Chinese official channels have already begun positioning Labubu as a cultural ambassador. In the summer of 2024, a life-sized Labubu doll embarked on a four-day tour of Thailand to celebrate the 50th anniversary of China–Thailand diplomatic relations.

The life-sized mascot of a popular Chinese toy character, Labubu, visited Bangkok landmarks and was named “Amazing Thailand Experience Explorer” to boost Chinese tourism. Photo Credit: Facebook/Pop Mart, via TrvelWeekly Asia.

In the future, Labubu, just like Hello Kitty in Japan, is likely to become the face of more campaigns promoting tourism and cross-cultural exchange.

Whatever happens next, it’s undeniable that Labubu stands at the forefront of a breakthrough moment for Chinese designer toys in the global market, and, from that position, serves as a unique ambassador for a new wave of Chinese creative exports that resonate with international audiences.

For now, most Labubu fans, however, don’t care about all of that – they are still on the hunt for the next little monster, and that’s enough to keep the Labubu hype burning.🔥

By Manya Koetse

(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)

References (other sources included in hyperlinks)

• Du, Daisy Yan. 2019. Animated Encounters: Transnational Movements of Chinese Animation, 1940-1970s. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press.

• Ge, Tongyu. 2024. “The Role of Emotional Value of Goods in Guiding Consumer Behaviour: A Case Study Based on Pop Mart.” Proceedings of the 5th International Conference on Education Innovation and Philosophical Inquiries. DOI: 10.54254/2753-7048/54/20241623.

• Liu, Enyong. 2025. “Analysis of Marketing Strategies of POP MART,” Proceedings of the 3rd International Conference on Financial Technology and Business Analysis DOI: 10.54254/2754-1169/149/2024.19257.

• Wang, Zitao. 2023. “A Case Study of POP MART Marketing Strategy.” Proceedings of the 2023 International Conference on Management Research and Economic Development. DOI: 10.54254/2754-1169/20/20230168.

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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.

Source: World of Warcraft (魔兽世界)
In context: Gaming 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.

Source: League of Legends (英雄联盟)
In context: Our 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、上头了
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.

Source: Defence of the Ancients 2 (刀塔 2)
In context: Catching 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.

Source: World of Warcraft (魔兽世界), League of Legends (英雄联盟)
In context: China’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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