As livestreaming continues to gain popularity in China, so do the controversies surrounding the industry. Negative headlines involving high-profile livestreamers, as well as aspiring influencers hoping to make it big, frequently dominate Weibo’s trending topics.

These headlines usually revolve around China’s so-called wǎnghóng (网红) influencers. Wanghong is a shortened form of the phrase “internet celebrity” (wǎngluò hóngrén 网络红人). The term doesn’t just refer to internet personalities but also captures the viral nature of their influence—describing content or trends that gain rapid online attention and spread widely across social media.

Recently, an incident sparked debate over China’s wanghong livestreamers, focusing on Xiaohuxing (@小虎行), a streamer with around 60,000 followers on Douyin, who primarily posts evaluations of civil aviation services in China.

Xiaohuxing (@小虎行)

On October 15, 2024, at Shenzhen Bao’an International Airport, Xiaohuxing confronted a volunteer at the automated check-in counter, insisting she remove her mask while livestreaming the entire encounter. He was heard demanding, “What gives you the right to wear a mask? What gives you the right not to take it off?” and even attempted to forcibly remove her mask, challenging her to call the police.

During the livestream, the livestreamer confronted the woman on the right for wearing a facemask.

He also argued with a male traveler who tried to intervene. In the end, the airport’s security officers detained him. Shortly after the incident, a video of the livestream went viral on Weibo under various hashtags (e.g. #网红小虎行机场强迫志愿者摘口罩#) and attracted millions of views. The following day, Xiaohuxing’s Douyin account was banned, and all his videos were removed. The Shenzhen Public Security Bureau later announced that the account’s owner, identified as Wang, had been placed in administrative detention.

On October 13, just days before, another livestreaming controversy erupted at Guangzhou Baiyun International Airport. Malatang (@麻辣烫), a popular Douyin streamer with over a million followers, secretly filmed a young couple kissing and mocked them, continuing to film while passing through security—an area where filming is prohibited.

Her livestream quickly went viral, sparking discussions about unauthorized filming and misconduct among Chinese wanghong. In response, Malatang’s agent posted an apology video. However, the affected couple hired a lawyer and reported the incident to the police (#被百万粉丝网红偷拍当事人发声#). On October 17, Malatang’s Douyin account was banned, and her videos were removed.

Livestreamer Malatang making fun of the couple in the back at the airport.

In both cases, netizens uncovered additional examples of inappropriate behavior by Xiaohuxing and Malatang in past broadcasts. For example, Xiaohuxing was reportedly aggressive towards a flight attendant, demanding she kneel to serve him, while Malatang was criticized for scolding a delivery person who declined to interact with her on camera.

Comments on Weibo included, “They’ll do anything for traffic. Wanghong are getting a bad reputation because of people like this.” Another added, “It seems as if ‘wanghong’ has become a negative term now.”

 
Rising Scrutiny in China’s Wanghong Economy
 

Xiaohuxing and Malatang are far from isolated cases. Recently, many other wanghong livestreamers have also been caught up in negative news.

One such figure is Dong Yuhui (董宇辉), a former English teacher at New Oriental (新东方) who transitioned to livestreaming for East Buy (东方甄选), where he mixed education with e-commerce (read here). Dong gained significant popularity and boosted East Buy’s brand before leaving to start his own company. Recently, however, Dong faced backlash for inaccurate statements about Marie Curie during an October 9 livestream. He incorrectly claimed that Curie discovered uranium, invented the X-ray machine, and won the Nobel Prize in Literature, among other things.

Considering his public image as a knowledgeable “teacher” livestreamer, this incident sparked skepticism among viewers about his actual expertise. A related hashtag (#董宇辉称居里夫人获得诺贝尔文学奖#) garnered over 81 million views on Weibo. In addition to this criticism, Dong is also being questioned about potential false advertising, which is a major challenge for all livestreamers selling products during their streams.

Dong Yuhui (董宇辉) during one of his livestreams.

Another popular livestreamer, Dongbei Yujie (@东北雨姐), is currently also facing criticism over product quality and false advertising claims. Originally from Northeast China, Dongbei Yujie shares content focused on rural life in the region. Recently, her Douyin account, which boasts an impressive 22 million followers, was muted due to concerns over the quality of products she promoted, such as sweet potato noodles (which reportedly contained no sweet potato). Despite issuing public apologies—which have garnered over 160 million views under the hashtag “Dongbei Yujie Apologizes” (#东北雨姐道歉#)—the controversy has impacted her account and led to a penalty of 1.65 million yuan (approximately 231,900 USD).

From Dongbei Yujie’s apology video

Former top Douyin livestreamer Fengkuang Xiaoyangge (@疯狂小杨哥) is also facing a career downturn. Leading up to the 2024 Mid-Autumn Festival, he promoted Hong Kong Meicheng mooncakes in his livestreams, branding them as a high-end Hong Kong product. However, it was soon revealed that these mooncakes had no retail presence in Hong Kong and were primarily produced in Guangzhou and Foshan, sparking accusations of deceptive marketing. Due to this incident and previous cases of misleading advertising, his company came under investigation and was penalized. In just a few weeks, Fengkuang Xiaoyangge lost over 8.5 million followers (#小杨哥掉粉超850万#).

Fengkuang Xiaoyangge (@疯狂小杨哥) and the mooncake controversy.

It’s not only ecommerce livestreamers who are getting caught up in scandal. Recently, the influencer “Xiaoxiao Nuli Shenghuo” (@小小努力生活) and her mother were arrested for fabricating a tragic story – including abandonment, adoption, and hardships – to gain sympathy from over one million followers and earn money through donations and sales. They, and two others who helped them manage their account, were sentenced to ten days in prison for ‘false advertising.’

 
Wanghong Fame: Opportunity and Risk
 

China’s so-called ‘wanghong economy’ has surged in recent years, with countless content creators emerging across platforms like Douyin, Kuaishou, and Taobao Live. These platforms have transformed interactions between content creators and viewers and changed how products are marketed and sold.

For many aspiring influencers, becoming a livestreamer is the first step to building a presence in the streaming world. It serves as a gateway to attracting traffic and potentially monetizing their online influence.

However, before achieving widespread fame, some livestreamers resort to using outrageous or even offensive content to capture attention, even if it leads to criticism. For example, before his account was banned, Xiaohuxing set his comment section to allow only followers to comment, gaining 3,000 new followers after his controversial livestream at Shenzhen Airport went viral. Many speculated that some followers joined just to leave critical comments, but it nonetheless grew his following.

As livestreamers gain significant fame, they must exercise greater caution, as they often hold substantial influence over their audiences, making accuracy essential. Mistakes, whether intentional or not, can quickly erode trust, as seen in the example of the super popular Dong Yuhui, who faced backlash after his inaccurate comment about Marie Curie sparked public criticism.

China’s top makeup livestreamer, Li Jiaqi (李佳琦), experienced a similar reputational crisis in September last year. Responding dismissively to a viewer who commented on the high price of an eyebrow pencil, Li replied, “Have you received a raise after all these years? Have you worked hard enough?” Commentators pointed out that the pencil’s cost per gram was double that of gold at the time. Accused of “forgetting his roots” as a former humble salesman, Li lost one million Weibo followers in a day (read more here).

This meme shows that many viewers did not feel moved by Li’s apologetic tears after the eyepencil incident.

Despite the challenges and risks, becoming a wanghong remains an attractive career path for many. A mid-2023 Weibo survey on “Contemporary Employment Trends” showed that 61.6% of nearly 10,000 recent graduates were open to emerging professions like livestreaming, while 38.4% preferred more traditional career paths.

 
Taming the Wanghong Economy
 

In response to the increasing number of controversies and scandals brought by some wanghong livestreamers, Chinese authorities are implementing stricter regulations to monitor the livestreaming industry.

In 2021, China’s Propaganda Department and other authorities began emphasizing the societal influence of online influencers as role models. That year, the China Association of Performing Arts introduced the “Management Measures for the Warning and Return of Online Hosts” (网络主播警示与复出管理办法), which makes it challenging, if not impossible, for “canceled” celebrities to stage a comeback as livestreamers (read more).

The Regulation on the Implementation of the Law of the People’s Republic of China on the Protection of Consumer Rights and Interests (中华人民共和国消费者权益保护法实施条例), effective July 1, 2024, imposes stricter rules on livestream sales. It requires livestreams to disclose both the promoter and the product owner and mandates platforms to protect consumer rights. In cases of illegal activity, the platform, livestreaming room, and host are all held accountable. Violations may result in warnings, confiscation of illegal earnings, fines, business suspensions, or even the revocation of business licenses.

These regulations have created a more controlled “wanghong” economy, a marked shift from the earlier, more unregulated era of livestreaming. While some view these measures as restrictive, many commenters support the tighter oversight.

A well-known Kuaishou influencer, who collaborates with a person with dwarfism, recently faced backlash for sharing “vulgar content,” including videos where he kicks his collaborator (see video) or stages sensational scenes just for attention.

Most commenters welcome the recent wave of criticism and actions taken against such influencers, including Xiaohuxing and Dongbei Yujie, for their behavior. “It’s easy to become famous and make money like this,” commenters noted, adding, “It’s good to see the industry getting cleaned up.”

State media outlet People’s Daily echoed this sentiment in an October 21 commentary, stating, “No matter how many fans you have or how high your traffic is, legal lines must not be crossed. Those who cross the red line will ultimately pay the price.”

This article and recent incidents have sparked more online discussions about the kind of influencers needed in the livestreaming era. Many suggest that, beyond adhering to legal boundaries, celebrity livestreamers should demonstrate a higher moral standard and responsibility within this digital landscape. “We need positive energy, we need people who are authentic,” one Weibo user wrote.

Others, however, believe misbehaving “wanghong” livestreamers naturally face consequences: “They rise fast, but their popularity fades just as quickly.”

When asked, “What kind of influencers do we need?” one commenter responded, “We don’t need influencers at all.”

By Wendy Huang
Follow @whatsonweibo

Edited for clarity by Manya Koetse

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PREMIUM NEWSLETTER | ISSUE #35

This week’s newsletter:

◼︎ 1. Editor’s Note – Going the wrong way
◼︎ 2. What’s New and Noteworthy – A closer look at featured stories
◼︎ 3. What’s Trending – Hot highlights
◼︎ 4. What’s Noteworthy – Young woman’s lonely death in rented apartment
◼︎ 6. What’s Popular – Fan Zhendong’s pluche toys
◼︎ 7. What’s Memorable – Ren Zhiqiang’s Weibo exit
◼︎ 8. Weibo Word of the Week – Fandom-ization
 

Dear Reader,

“Apology! Apology!” Dozens of delivery drivers chanted, standing together in front of Hangzhou’s Xixi Century Square. The group of workers, mostly men, had gathered in front of the complex after learning about an incident that took place just hours earlier.

One of their colleagues, a young delivery driver for the Meituan platform named Wang, had accidentally damaged a fence while trying to enter the complex to deliver a food order on August 12. The security guard stopped him and allegedly demanded 200 yuan ($28) in compensation. Onlookers captured a video showing Wang kneeling before the guard, pleading for leniency. He could not afford the fee nor the kerfuffle—it was peak lunch hour, and he needed to deliver his order on time.

The image that went viral on the afternoon of August 12.

The incident immediately went viral in WeChat groups.¹ The image of the delivery driver on his knees, hands in his lap, helplessly looking up at the security guard, resonated with many delivery workers, sparking anger. Members of the delivery community decided to gather at the scene and protest the way their colleague had been treated.

As more delivery drivers arrived, tensions escalated (video). At least twenty police officers, including a specialized police unit, were called in to deescalate the situation, and the security guard was rushed away for his own safety.

That same night, local authorities issued a notification about the incident, urging people to remain calm and show more tolerance and understanding during these blazing hot summer days.

But the simmering tension beneath the surface runs deeper than just the summer heat.

In recent years, many viral videos have captured the hardships faced by Chinese food delivery workers, who endure scorching heat, heavy rain, and thunderstorms to deliver their orders. On August 21, a delivery driver in Pingyang collapsed while picking up a food order at a restaurant but insisted on completing the delivery (he was eventually taken to the hospital by ambulance). Other videos on platforms like Douyin show delivery riders breaking down during work.

The pressure they face is real, and the work they do is intense. China’s main food delivery platforms, Meituan and Ele.me, backed by tech giants Tencent and Alibaba, employ a combined 10 million delivery drivers. Their daily work is monitored by algorithmic management tools. The workload is high, the overwork is severe, the income is low, and the conditions are often unsafe.

Most of these workers are lower-educated migrant workers from rural areas who were already in vulnerable positions before taking these jobs. They face challenges such as limited job opportunities, inadequate medical care, poor nutrition, and sometimes language barriers or social alienation in China’s urban jungle.² The digital control makes their work stressful—a late order or bad review can cost them income.

Recent studies show that these factors make China’s food delivery drivers highly susceptible to anxiety and depression. One study focusing on urban delivery drivers in Shanghai found that 46% of the drivers surveyed reported anxiety symptoms, and 18% experienced depression.³

While the recent Hangzhou incident and other viral moments have drawn attention to the stressful working conditions and weak social status of China’s food delivery workers, a new Chinese movie presents a different perspective on the gig economy.

One of the movie posters for Upstream (2024).

Upstream “逆行人生” (Nìxíng Rénshēng), a movie by director and star actor Xu Zheng (徐峥), was released on August 9. The story revolves around former programmer Gao Zhilei—played by Xu himself—who loses his job and savings. To support his family and ill father, he takes up a job as a delivery worker to survive.

The Chinese title of the movie, 逆行人生, translates to “a life against the current.” The term 逆行 (nìxíng) literally means ‘to go the wrong way’ or ‘to move in the opposite direction,’ and it has been translated as ‘upstream’ in this case. Since early 2020, Chinese state media have used the term 逆行者 nìxíngzhě, “those going against the tide” to refer to frontline workers and everyday heroes who made significant contributions or sacrifices for society, particularly during the pandemic or in emergencies such as forest fires.

Although Upstream does highlight some of the struggles faced by Chinese gig workers, it is largely a feel-good movie that avoids a deeper exploration of the marginalized status and precarious work conditions of gig workers. The title and story align with the narrative promoted by official media about China’s food delivery workers, especially during the pandemic when their work was extra demanding. Instead of lobbying for better labor conditions, they are praised as heroic and altruistic; as noble national heroes who act for the greater good. As one driver quoted in a study by Hui Huang put it: “They treat us as heroes in the media, but as slaves in reality.”⁴

This sentiment also plays a role in the public’s reception of Upstream, as discussed in a recent article by Sixth Tone. Many feel that the film exploits the struggles of China’s gig workers for entertainment and profit rather than genuinely advocating for their rights and well-being. Turning such harsh realities into a feel-good narrative is seen by some as “the wrong way” rather than “upstream.” Some have even described it as “rich people acting poor and making the poor pay for it.”

One Zhihu user placed the actual film poster next to an alternative version featuring delivery driver Wang in a vulnerable, knee-down position, which powerfully symbolizes how many delivery drivers perceive their weak status in society. The official poster says, “August 9 – auspicious/timely delivery,” while the alternative poster states, “August 12 – delivery not possible.”

Photo uploaded by 芒果味跃迁引擎 on Zhihu

However, there is an upside to the heightened attention on China’s food delivery workers: increased awareness. For example, the absurdity of relying on algorithms for their work is now sparking important discussions.

Delivery algorithms put pressure on riders by calculating precise delivery times based on ideal conditions, leaving little room for traffic delays, staircases, extreme weather, or restaurant preparation times. Riders can get caught in “algorithm traps” (算法陷阱) because the faster they work, the stricter the algorithm tightens delivery windows, and they may face penalties or reduced earnings if they fail to meet the expected times.

The fact that, through Upstream and the Hangzhou incident, people are now acknowledging the pressure that Meituan and Ele.me drivers face under such digital systems is already a big improvement from 2019, when debates centered on whether or not you should say “thank you” to acknowledge the service provided by delivery drivers.

“Maybe some parts of this film don’t fully connect with reality,” author Yan Lingyang (晏凌羊) wrote on Weibo about Upstream: “But under the current system, I think it’s already quite daring. It reflects various issues such as the economic downturn, housing bubbles, corporate burnout [involution], low wages for grassroots workers, lack of rights protection, and algorithm traps.”

Chinese blogger Cui Zijian (崔紫剑) recently also spoke out against the exploitation of drivers by platform companies, arguing that algorithms should be improved and suggesting that delivery riders be included in unions.

While the reception of Upstream and the Hangzhou delivery driver protest might seem to indicate that things are going the wrong way, the increased awareness actually points in the right direction—toward greater understanding of the challenging situation faced by millions of workers.

I’d love to dive deeper into topics such as these that are so relevant in everyday society and show how digital platforms impact the lives of people. Since I’m always reporting the latest trends, it often leaves little room for the more in-depth articles and overviews I’d love to write for you about the issues behind China’s hot topics & tech developments. Because of this, I’ve decided to gradually shift my focus toward deeper dives instead of shorter trend articles for What’s on Weibo. I’ll still provide timely updates on the latest trends through the Weibo Watch newsletter. I’m currently brainstorming how to make this transition, and I’ll keep you involved as I work on continuing to deliver insightful content. Finding the right balance between covering current trends and providing more contextual analyses can be challenging, but I can’t complain—thankfully, no algorithms are chasing me.

Miranda Barnes has contributed to the compilation and interpretation of the topics featured in this week’s newsletter. Ruixin Zhang has authored the insightful fan culture article, and contributed to the word of the week. As always, if you have any observations or ideas you’d like to share, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me.

Best,
Manya Koetse
(@manyapan)

¹ The initial story that went viral in WeChat groups (links of screenshots) claimed that the delivery driver was a woman, and that the security guard had forced her to kneel. This detail intensified the outrage. However, it was later revealed that the driver was actually a thin, male worker who knelt voluntarily, in hopes of speeding up the process.

² See Peng, Yuxun, et al., “Status and Determinants of Symptoms of Anxiety and Depression among Food Delivery Drivers in Shanghai, China,” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 19, no. 20 (2022): 1; and Hui Huang, “Riders on the Storm: Amplified Platform Precarity and the Impact of COVID-19 on Online Food-delivery Drivers in China,” Journal of Contemporary China 31, no. 135 (2022): 351, 363.

³ See Peng, Yuxun, et al., “Status and Determinants of Symptoms of Anxiety and Depression among Food Delivery Drivers in Shanghai, China,” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 19, no. 20 (2022): 10.

⁴ See Huang Hui, “Riders on the Storm: Amplified Platform Precarity and the Impact of COVID-19 on Online Food-delivery Drivers in China,” Journal of Contemporary China 31, no. 135 (2022): 363.

What’s New

Ping Pong Fandom | The table tennis final between Chen Meng and Sun Yingsha in Paris exposed troubling fan dynamics, sparking discussions on the clash between fandom culture & the Olympic spirit. Read our latest on the influence of fandom culture in Chinese table tennis 🏓 🔗

The Big Olympic File | Before the Paralympics will start on August 28, time to reflect on what happened during the Olympics. We reported and wrapped it up! Capturing all the must-know medals and online discussions happening on the sidelines of the Olympics, here’s the What’s on Weibo China at Paris 2024 Olympic File.

Medals and Memes | The 2024 Paris Olympics captivated Chinese social media, not just for the gold medal victories but also for the many moments that unfolded on the sidelines. Here are the 10 most popular ones.

The Human Bone Controversy | Chinese online media was flooded with 404 errors earlier this month as many of the articles published about the human bone scandal—where the Chinese company Shanxi Aorui illegally acquired thousands of corpses to produce bone graft materials sold to hospitals—were taken offline. From 2015-2023, Shanxi Aorui forged body donation registration forms and other documents to purchase corpses from hospitals, funeral homes and crematoriums to produce bone implant materials sold to hospitals.

What’s Trending

 
🐒 Black Myth Wukong

A Chinese game that has been in development for over four years is top trending on Weibo this week. More than that: it’s a national sensation. Black Myth: Wukong (黑神话悟空) was officially released on August 20, surpassing all expectations. Within an hour of its release, it topped the “Most Played” list on Steam, with over 2 million concurrent players.

Developed by Game Science, a startup founded by former Tencent employees, Black Myth: Wukong draws inspiration from the classic Chinese novel Journey to the West. This epic tale, filled with heroes and demons, follows the supernatural monkey Sun Wukong as he accompanies the Tang dynasty monk Xuanzang on a pilgrimage to India to obtain Buddhist sūtras (holy scriptures). The game focuses on Sun Wukong’s story after this journey. Black Myth: Wukong has been such a massive success that anything associated with it is also going viral—a merchandise collaboration with Luckin Coffee sold out instantly.

 
🥇 Olympic Heroes Hailed at Home

China’s Olympic champions, including Quan Hongchan (全红婵), who we also discussed in our last newsletter, have received warm welcomes home as their hometowns were transformed into temporary pilgrimage sites, complete with medal ceremonies and huge posters. There have been many touching moments during the champions’ return. For example, Boxing Gold medalist Wu Yu jumped into her mom’s arms and cried like a little kid after returning from her Paris adventure.

In addition to the warm receptions in their hometowns, the champions were also honored in Beijing at the Great Hall of the People, where Xi Jinping met with the athletes on August 20 and praised them for their performance and sportsmanship throughout the Paris Games. A related hashtag has garnered 360 million views on Weibo ( #中国体育代表团总结大会举行#)

 
🚨 Magic Carpet Ride Gone Wrong

The “magic carpet ride” at the popular Detian Waterfall scenic area in Guangxi’s Chongzuo drew significant attention on social media earlier this month after a malfunction led to tragic consequences. This attraction, designed to transport visitors up the mountain as they sit backward on a moving belt, suddenly malfunctioned on August 10, causing passengers to slide uncontrollably downwards (here you can see how the attraction normally operates).

The accident resulted in one tourist’s death and injuries to 60 others. A joint investigation team was established to determine the cause of the incident. Preliminary findings suggest that a steel buckle at the belt’s joint broke, causing the belt to rapidly slide downward. With passengers spaced about a meter apart on the conveyor belt, the sudden movement led to collisions, with some individuals being crushed, particularly at the lower end. Those responsible for the attraction’s operation and maintenance have been detained in accordance with the law for their roles in the incident, which will be further investigated.

 
🍵 Eileen Gu Controversy

Whether it’s her athletic career or personal life, Eileen Gu (谷爱凌) always seems to find herself trending in China. The American-born freestyle skier and gold medalist who represented China at the 2022 Beijing Olympics sparked discussions during the Paris Olympics due to her connection with Léon Marchand, the renowned French Olympic swimmer. Marchand faced significant backlash on Chinese social media after being accused of ignoring a handshake from Team China’s coach Zhu Zhigen (朱志根). A brief video of the incident went viral, showing the Chinese coach approaching Marchand to congratulate him, only for Marchand to seemingly ignore him and walk away.

Amid the controversy, netizens noticed that Gu, who had previously interacted with Marchand online, deleted her comments on his Instagram, including a compliment on his latest Olympic victory (“incredible”) (#谷爱凌删了给马尔尚的所有ins评论#). However, when videos surfaced of Gu dancing closely with Marchand, she was accused of being two-faced or insincere. While some initially saw her deletion of the interactions as a patriotic gesture, many now believe she was simply being opportunistic.

But Gu is clapping back at her haters, suggesting that she can never please everyone. When someone called her out for being “a traitor” to her country, Gu reportedly replied, “Which one?” The issue of Gu’s nationality has been a somewhat sensitive topic since she first represented China, with many questioning whether she holds a Chinese or American passport (as China does not recognize dual nationality). Gu’s previous statement, “I’m American when in the US and Chinese when in China,” has also triggered dissatisfaction among Chinese audiences. On Instagram, she has now confronted her haters: “In the past five years, I’ve won 39 medals representing China and spoken out for China and women on the world stage. What have the haters done for the country?”

 
💍 New Marriage Rules

A revised draft regulation on marriage registration introduced by China’s Ministry of Civil Affairs last week has sparked significant online discussion. One notable change is that couples will no longer need their hukou, or household register, to get married. Traditionally, this document is often held by parents, meaning that those who wish to marry had to obtain it—essentially seeking parental approval. By removing this requirement, the process is simplified, giving individuals more freedom to marry, even if their parents disagree.

However, the draft regulation is drawing criticism, primarily due to the inclusion of a 30-day cooling-off period for divorce. This cooling-off period (“冷静期”) allows either party to withdraw their divorce application within 30 days of filing. Although introduced in a draft as early as 2018, it continues to generate debate. Many feel that while the revision appears to grant more freedom in marriage, it restricts the freedom to divorce in a timely manner. Some say this is like a “loose entry, strict exit” (宽进严出) policy, similar to Chinese university admissions. One popular comment called it “fake freedom.” The draft regulation is open for public feedback until September 11.

 
🚴 Discussions over Cycling Boy’s Death

A tragic incident in Hebei has sparked significant online discussions. In Rongcheng County, an eleven-year-old boy who was cycling with his father in a group of cyclists fell down and was run over by a car coming from the opposite direction. A dashcam video captured the group riding in the middle of the road, leaving the oncoming vehicle with little room or time to avoid the collision. The boy succumbed to his injuries shortly after the accident.

The incident has led to broader debates about the father’s responsibility. According to road safety laws, the eleven-year-old should not have been cycling on a public road, especially not in the middle of it. The situation is further complicated by reports that people had previously warned the father about the dangers of bringing his young son on high-speed cycling trips, warnings which he allegedly ignored. Although the father initially attempted to shift the blame onto the driver for speeding, public opinion has largely condemned him for being irresponsible, with devastating consequences.

 
🇨🇳 Chinese Flag Controversy

A hotel in Paris, part of a Taiwanese chain, became the center of online attention this August after it failed to include the Chinese flag in its Olympic-themed decorations. The issue was brought to light by a Chinese influencer who posted a video accusing the Evergreen Laurel Hotel (长荣桂冠酒店) of refusing to display the Chinese flag, even after the influencer offered to provide one. The incident sparked significant backlash, leading domestic travel platforms like Ctrip and Meituan to delist the hotel’s booking options, including those at its Shanghai location. The hotel eventually issued an apology, but many netizens found it too vague, as it did not directly address the flag incident, instead focusing on general dissatisfaction with their decorations. The Chinese Embassy in France has since commented on the issue, expressing support for Chinese people, both at home and abroad, in their efforts to “remain united and uphold patriotic values.”