From ‘Chillax’ to ‘Digital Ibuprofen,’ this compilation of ten Chinese buzzwords and catchphrases by What’s on Weibo reflects social trends and the changing times in China in 2024.

At the end of each year, Chinese media outlets compile lists of the most impactful buzzwords that shaped public discourse. The most popular new words and expressions are generally listed by the Chinese linguistics magazine Yǎowén Jiáozì (咬文嚼字), which selects ten noteworthy buzzwords (十大流行语).

If you want to know more about the buzzwords that made it to Chinese official media’s lists this year, check out this post by Andrew Methven at RealTime Mandarin which is a top ten compilation of Chinese buzzwords of 2024 based on these lists.

Here, we’ve curated a different list: a special What’s on Weibo top 10 of buzzwords and catchphrases from 2024. Each term reflects a broader trend, which we’ll explore in this article. Many of these words were previously featured in our premium Weibo Watch newsletter, where we highlight a word of the week in every issue. (Subscribe to get our newsletter).

These words are not in order of popularity, but rather in order of appearance throughout the year.

#1: SOUTHERN LITTLE POTATOES

Nánfāng xiǎo tǔdòu (南方小土豆)

The term “Southern Little Potatoes” (南方小土豆) became all the rage in early 2024 in the context of the travel hype surrounding Harbin, which saw a huge influx of tourists from the warmer southern regions who came to the snow-blanketed city or other destinations in the Three Northeastern Provinces (东北三省: Heilongjiang, Jilin, and Liaoning).

The southern tourists were soon nicknamed “Southern Little Potatoes.” While visiting China’s cold northeast, they tend to stand out due to their smaller stature, light-colored down jackets, and brand-new winter hats. Their appearance not only contrasts with that of the typically taller and darker-dressed locals, but some people also think it makes them look like “little potatoes.” After the endearing term “Southern Little Potato” became popular due to a viral video, some southern tourists, especially women, also adopted this term to humorously describe themselves.

Very soon after it caught on, locals started using “Southern Little Potatoes” as a humorous marketing strategy to attract more southern visitors. Harbin street vendors began selling plush keychains of “Southern Little Potatoes,” and even local taxis invited the “baby potatoes” to get on board (“土豆宝宝请上车”).

Through jokes, memes, and media stories about these “potatoes,” a narrative came to life about the city of Harbin taking care of and pampering these “naive,” “little” visitors. Although the term is meant to be affectionate, some took offense, suggesting that since it predominantly refers to smaller women, it is actually sexist and reinforces stereotypical perceptions of southern Chinese women. While some critical bloggers argue that the term is harmful and derogatory, the majority of netizens continue to use it for light-hearted banter about the enthusiasm of southern visitors and the hospitality of the northerners welcoming them.

#2: SPRING MOUNTAIN STUDIES

Chūn Shān Xué (春山学)

“Spring Mountain Studies,” or “Chunshan Studies” (春山学), became a viral phenomenon on the Chinese internet following the CMG Spring Festival Gala earlier this year. It was the buzz of the show, capturing widespread attention and sparking heated debates. The phrase “Chunshan Studies” arose from the controversy surrounding the performance by Bai Jingting (白敬亭), Wei Chen (魏晨), and Wei Daxun (魏大勋).

Popular actor and singer Bai Jingting, alongside co-performers Wei Chen and Wei Daxun, performed the song “Going Up Spring Mountain” (上春山). While the song itself wasn’t particularly remarkable at first glance, it quickly became the center of attention due to the staging arrangement: the three singers were positioned on a tiered platform representing a mountain, with Bai standing on the highest pedestal.

Controversy arose when Bai remained on the top pedestal after his part, seemingly blocking Wei Daxun from taking the higher position. As a result, Wei performed from a lower step, creating choreographic asymmetry and apparent confusion on stage. Speculation grew that Bai may have intentionally stayed in the prominent position to draw more attention.

Adding to the rumors was Bai’s choice of attire—he wore all black, while Wei Chen and Wei Daxun were dressed in white. Netizens suggested this made him stand out even more. Rehearsal footage posted online fueled these suspicions. In one rehearsal video, Bai stepped down after his part as expected and wore white like the others. This led to accusations that he deliberately changed his outfit and position during the live performance to ensure he stayed at the center of attention.

The timing of these changes also raised eyebrows. Since the Spring Festival Gala is a live event, but typically runs a recorded dress rehearsal alongside the live broadcast for contingency purposes, any significant alterations to staging or wardrobe would prevent producers from seamlessly switching to the pre-recorded version. Critics argued that Bai’s supposed changes sabotaged this fallback option, leaving producers unable to correct the perceived imbalance.

The controversy ignited widespread criticism of Bai Jingting, with detractors accusing him of selfishness and poor character. Social media erupted with debates, and the term “Chunshan Studies” was coined humorously to describe the detailed analysis and theories surrounding the incident.

Online communities, particularly on platforms like Douyin and Bilibili, became hubs of “Chunshan Studies,” as netizens scrutinized every detail of the performance. Videos dissecting wardrobe choices, body language, and stage movements frame by frame went viral. What began as speculation about Bai’s intent turned into a pseudo-academic field, blending elements of popular culture analysis, media discourse, and social studies.

Some commentators argued that the discussion reflected deeper issues about equity and ethical behavior in the entertainment industry, elevating the controversy beyond a simple song performance. Who would have thought that a single performance of “Going Up Spring Mountain” could spark such an intellectual and cultural phenomenon?

#3: MELLOW PEOPLE

Dàn rén (淡人)

“Mellow People” (淡人) is a term that emerged in 2024 to describe the mental state of young people in China today. The word dàn 淡, which I’ve translated as ‘mellow’ in this context, carries a range of meanings in Chinese: it can imply lightness, calmness, indifference, paleness, or even triviality.

To be a dàn individual, a dànrén 淡人, has become a way for young people to express how they navigate life. They might want to quit their uninspiring job, but it pays the bills—so it’s okay. They endure hours of commuting every day because the rent is cheaper—so it’s okay. They’re pushed into blind dates by their parents, even though they’d rather not go, but they lack the energy to resist—so it’s okay.

Being ‘mellow’ or ‘unperturbed’ means remaining indifferent in a calm, lighthearted way. Similar to earlier Chinese popular expressions like “lying flat” (躺平) or being “Buddha-like” (佛系), it’s a way of coping with the pressures and challenges of modern life. However, it’s slightly more optimistic than outright passivity (like lying flat): it reflects a passive acceptance of life as it is, embracing the monotony of daily routines and competitive work environments without resistance.

The concept of being a dànrén has even developed into its own pseudo-discipline, referred to as 淡人学 dànrén xué, which might be translated as ‘Mellowism’ or, perhaps more aptly, ‘Unperturbabilism.’

#4: “BACK TO THE ROOT”

Dāngguī (当归)

The term dāngguī 当归, freely translated as “back to the root,” came up this year in the context of the propaganda campaign surrounding reunification with Taiwan. Since earlier in 2024, dāngguī is used by Chinese state media in the slogan “Táiwān dāngguī” (#台湾当归#), which means “Taiwan must return [to the motherland].” Separately, the two characters in dāngguī 当归 literally mean “should return.”

However, the slogan is a play on words, as the term dāngguī (当归) as a noun actually means Angelica Sinensis, the Chinese Angelica root or ‘female ginseng,’ a medicinal herb commonly used in traditional Chinese medicine, native to China and cultivated in various East Asian countries.

Poster by People’s Daily. ‘Taiwan’ on the left side resembles a piece of ‘female ginseng’.

This play on words is also evident in the poster disseminated by People’s Daily, where Taiwan is depicted on the left and resembles a piece of the yellowish ‘female ginseng’ root. It is part of the character “归” (guī, to return, go back to). The remainder of the character consists of various slogans commonly used by Chinese official media to emphasize that Taiwan is part of China.

Because of this context, where dāngguī 当归 both refers to the discourse of Taiwan returning to China and to the female ginseng root, a creative translation would be “back to the root.” If you want to be less creative, you could also say it’s the Taiwan “should return” campaign.

#5: CHILLAX

Sōngchígǎn (松弛感)

In recent years, the pursuit of a certain “relaxed feeling” has gained popularity across the Chinese internet. Sōngchígǎn is a combination of the word for “relaxed,” “loose” or “lax” (松弛) and the word for “feeling” (感). Initially used to describe a particular female aesthetic, the term evolved to represent a lifestyle where individuals strive to maintain a relaxed demeanor, especially in the face of stressful situations.

The concept gained traction online in mid-2022 when a Weibo user shared a story of a family remaining composed when their travel plans were unexpectedly disrupted due to passport issues. Their calm and collected response inspired the adoption of the “relaxed feeling” term (also read here). Central to embodying this sense of relaxation is being unfazed by others’ opinions and avoiding unnecessary stress or haste out of fear of judgment. Nowadays, Chinese cities aim to foster this sense of sōngchígǎn. Not too long ago, there were many hot topics suggesting that Chengdu is the most sōngchí 松弛, the most relaxed city in China. This sentiment was further reinforced in 2024 when ‘Chengdu Disney’ emerged as a quirky new hotspot (read here).

As for individuals, the most sōngchígǎn person of the year was undoubtedly Olympic athlete Quan Hongchan (全红婵). The young springboard diver from Guangdong became a multi-medalist at the Paris Olympics, going viral for her quirkiness and authenticity. Chinese netizens describe her as “being Guangdong-style relaxed” (“广式”松弛感), not just for her unique sense of style (she loves her “ugly fish slippers”), but for her ability to remain chill while dozens of cameras focus on her.

#6: STRONG STEALTH VIBE

Tōugǎn hěn zhòng (偷感很重)

It’s that moment when you see someone you know and pretend to be busy on your phone to avoid social interaction. Or when someone takes a group picture and you’re unsure how to pose. Or when all eyes are on you and you wish for an invisible cloak.

In 2024, the term “tōugǎn” (偷感) emerged on Chinese social media. Tōugǎn (偷感) literally translates to “stealth sense” or “secret feeling,” but we can interpret it as an overall vibe of being “under-the-radar.” The phrase “tōugǎn hěn zhòng” (偷感很重) means “the stealth sense is strong,” and can be used to describe someone as being “very under-the-radar” or having “a strong stealth vibe.”

The exact origin of this term is unclear, but it likely first appeared on Xiaohongshu in response to a videoclip by the South Korean girl group Le Sserafim for their single “Easy,” where they sing and dance effortlessly with some low-key dance moves.

Tōugǎn (偷感) is used by and resonates with China’s Gen Z to express a common feeling in their daily lives, where they prefer to go about things quietly and low-key, avoiding too much attention. They can still be smooth and effortless, but out of fear of embarrassment or judgment, they do so in a subtle and low-profile manner. They won’t flaunt their achievements, but wait for others to notice them. Unlike earlier internet buzzwords where young people mock themselves, tōugǎn is not negative – it’s a bit tongue-in-cheek and a way for people to connect over their inner worlds that aren’t visible to others.

#7: CITY BU CITY

City不City啊

The phrase ‘City bu City a’ (City不City啊), translated as “City or not?”, took the Chinese internet by storm in the summer of 2024. The phrase became popular thanks to American influencer Paul Mike Ashton, nicknamed “Bao Bao Xiong” (保保熊, Baby Bear), who runs a Chinese-language account on Douyin. On his channel, Ashton shares humorous snippets about his life in China, where he works as an entertainer and tour guide.

In one video from April this year, Ashton posted a clip in which he cycles through the city like a Shanghai ‘city girl’ who often mixes Chinese and English words, calling himself “very city” (“我是好city”). He says: “I’m so city, a city girl. It’s so cool, breezy. Life in the city is so good, I feel so free.” Ashton later began incorporating this phrase more frequently in his humorous videos, sometimes also involving his sister.

Walking on the Shanghai Bund, the brother and sister describe Shanghai as “so city” (“好city啊”). While walking on the Great Wall, Bao Bao asks his sister if it’s “city or not” (it’s not). In other videos in which the two are traveling throug China, Ashton repeatedly asks his younger sister if certain things are “city or not,” to which she usually responds humorously: “It’s very city.” In this context, “city” has evolved from a noun into a quirky adjective, describing something that embodies the essence of urban life; something that is ‘city’ is metropolitan, lively, and modern. It’s very tongue-in-cheek and also serves as a playful commentary on how young Chinese people often mix Chinese and English words to sound more sophisticated and trendy.

This phenomenon sparked the ‘city or not’ meme, which even reached the Foreign Ministry this week when spokesperson Mao Ning was asked about it. She responded that she had heard about the new use of the phrase and that it is a positive sign of foreigners enjoying life in China. Chinese authorities and state media have also jumped on this trend to promote tourism. The meme has been imitated and adapted by various local tourism departments. Ashton himself has encouraged foreigners to come and experience Chinese culture (and its very ‘city’ city life), further boosting its popularity. By now, the phrase has become ingrained in China’s digital culture.

#8: FAN CULTURED

Fànquānhuà (饭圈化)

Around the time of the Olympics and the skyrocketing popularity of Chinese table tennis players, the word ‘fan-cultured’ or ‘fandom-ization’ (fànquānhuà 饭圈化) became increasingly popular in 2024. While fànquān 饭圈 literally means “fan circle,” the suffix huà 化 is generally used to indicate a process of transformation or turning into something, similar to the “-ization” suffix in English.

The term fànquānhuà 饭圈化 refers to the recently much-discussed phenomenon where something—often outside the realms of entertainment—receives passionate support from people who begin to form online fan circles around it, changing the dynamics in ways that resemble the relationships between celebrity idols and their fans.

This year, it became clear how Chinese fans started to form extremely strong communities around China’s table tennis stars, defending them as if they were idols. This fan behavior was harshly criticized by Chinese authorities this year, as they see it as toxic fan culture that goes against the Olympic spirit (read more).

However, “fandom-ization” extends beyond sports. For instance, Chinese pandas have similarly strong fan club dynamics. Even inanimate objects can become “fan-cultured.” A notable example is the Little Forklift Truck (小叉车) that played a role in constructing the Huoshenshan emergency specialty field hospital during the early days of the Covid crisis.

The construction process was live-streamed, and millions of viewers found the hardworking little truck so cute and brave that it too became “fan-cultured.”

#9: RUSHING TO COUNTY-LEVEL TOWNS

Bèn xiàn (奔县)

The term “rushing to the county,” bèn xiàn (奔县), surged in Chinese media after the 2024 National Day holiday. This time, the peak travel period saw increased popularity for lesser-known county-level towns instead of large cities or famous tourist destinations. According to travel industry reports following the week-long holiday, bookings significantly increased compared to 2023, which was already a notably crowded year.

In 2024, 765 million trips were taken nationwide, marking a 10.2% increase compared to pre-pandemic 2019. In 2023, ‘domestic travel’ was the key trend, with the so-called “special forces travel” (tè zhǒng bīng lǚxíng 特种兵旅游) becoming popular among Chinese youth. That trend focused on visiting as many places as possible at the lowest cost within a limited time, often involving incredibly tight schedules and 12-hour travel days.

In 2024, the focus shifted to a more relaxed and cost-effective approach, turning county-level tourism (bèn xiàn yóu 奔县游) into a new trend. People are no longer just visiting county-level towns to see family; more young travelers from China’s major cities are exploring nearby smaller towns for “micro-holidays” (wēi dùjià 微度假).

County-level towns in China are smaller than major cities like Beijing or Shanghai but are still large enough to offer plenty to do, as they serve as important hubs for the surrounding rural areas. In these county-level destinations, the cost of hotels and meals tends to be much cheaper than in popular tourist hotspots. Staying closer to home also reduces travel time and expenses while offering the chance to visit lesser-known locations and avoid peak tourist crowds.

According to The Observer, during the 2024 National Holiday, places like Jiuzhaigou, Anji, Shangri-La, Pingtan, Dujiangyan, and Jinghong saw booking increases of 109%, 86%, 74%, 67%, 51%, and 50%, respectively.

#10: DIGITAL IBUPROFEN

Diànzǐ bùluòfēn (电子布洛芬)

The term “Digital Ibuprofen” or “Electronic Ibuprofen” came up this year when fans told Chinese actor and singer Tan Jianci (檀健次) that he is their “digital ibuprofen.” Tan, with a puzzled look, asked what that meant. A fan explained, “It means we feel better when we see you” (or, essentially, “our bodies feel no pain”). Since then, Tan Jianci has become associated with the term “digital ibuprofen.”

The term has been around for some time, gaining popularity in 2022-2023 among fans of entertainment shows. It refers to content that provides relief from stress or discomfort, much like how ibuprofen alleviates physical pain. For instance, the Hunan TV show Go for Happiness (快乐再出发) is often called “digital ibuprofen.”

The term saw a surge in popularity alongside the Japanese animated series Chiikawa, which became a viral hit among young people. The anime’s portrayal of its cute character staying optimistic despite life’s stresses earned Chiikawa the nickname “digital ibuprofen,” as fans found comfort in its stories (read more in this story by Sixth Tone).

“Digital ibuprofen” applies to more than just shows—it can be any content, such as videos, memes, or idols, that provides comfort, distraction, and relief to fans. In the same category, there’s also “digital pickled mustard” or “electronic pickled mustard” (电子榨菜, diànzǐ zhàcài), which refers to a binge-worthy or comforting show. *The term 电子 (diànzǐ) means “electronic” and is commonly used in modern Chinese terms, much like the English “e-” prefix in ebook (电子书) or email (电子邮件). It’s also used for digital transactions, like digital payments (电子支付) or digital wallets (电子钱包).

By Manya Koetse

(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)

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From city marketing to the spirit of China’s new generation, there are many themes behind the recent Zhengzhou trend of thousands of students cycling to Kaifeng overnight.

The term ‘yè qí‘ (夜骑), meaning “night ride,” has recently become a buzzword on Chinese social media. Large groups of students from various schools and universities in Zhengzhou, the capital of Henan province with a population of over 12 million, have been cycling en masse on shared bikes to Kaifeng, a neighboring historic city of around 5 million residents. These journeys often begin in the evenings or around midnight.

Across multiple platforms, videos of swarms of cyclists heading to Kaifeng have gone viral. The footage is striking, capturing streams of students embarking on the 40-mile nighttime journey, some waving Chinese flags, filming on their phones, singing together, and clearly having a great time.

According to some reports, approximately 100,000 or even 200,000 students have participated in these rides, drawing significant media attention both in China and internationally—especially after authorities began imposing restrictions on the so-called ‘Night Riding Army.’

HOW IT STARTED

The true origins of this story seem a bit murky.

The first Chinese news reports and blogs about students cycling to Kaifeng began surfacing around November 2-3 this year, coinciding with the first large-scale group rides from Zhengzhou to Kaifeng. The trend seemed to emerge out of nowhere.

On November 3, numerous Chinese media outlets provided an explanation for the phenomenon. According to these reports, on June 18, 2024, four female friends allegedly decided, at 7 PM, to embark on a 40-mile journey from Zhengzhou to Kaifeng to try out the city’s renowned soup dumplings. It took them around five hours to ride there, and, when they shared their adventure online, they used the slogan: “Youth only comes once” (青春只有一次).

These four girls allegedly started the Kaifeng night ride trend in June of 2024 (The Paper).

Their posts were said to have inspired hundreds of other students to follow suit, organizing night rides in groups with the trend peaking during the first two weekends of November. This narrative of an organic trend of night riding to Kaifeng for dumplings was picked up by Western media outlets, including reports from the BBC and The Guardian.

Earlier in summer, some Henan media indeed reported about four girls doing a night ride to Kaifeng. This was followed by another video by a Douyin user (@去你的岛), dated June 23, documenting a ride from Zhengzhou to Kaifeng for breakfast. That video was later turned into a small news item (dated June 29, but showing footage of the June 23 ride). Aside from an October 6 video by another Douyin user (@小木同学) imitating the June 23 group by cycling to Kaifeng with friends, however, there is a notable lack of videos indicating a widespread cycling-to-Kaifeng trend before the large-scale group rides of November 2-3. Moreover, the original posts by the four girls are nowhere to be found.

This raises questions: How did the story of the four girls gain traction without leaving a significant digital footprint? Was the Zhengzhou-to-Kaifeng cycling trend a truly organic movement, or could it have been more orchestrated? Curiously, the Weibo hashtag “How did the college students’ night ride to Kaifeng initially start?” (#大学生夜骑开封最早是怎么开始的#), which had been used by multiple bloggers, was also taken offline at the time of writing.

Screenshot of Weibo hashtag not being displayed.

The origins of the trend are particularly relevant as Chinese cities fiercely compete to become the next social media sensation. Since Zibo’s viral success, third- and second-tier cities across China have been striving to replicate its fame. While it’s ideal to become the next travel hit organically, cities often benefit from promoting local specialities and hyping up meme-worthy moments. Cities like Tianshui in Gansu and Harbin have enjoyed their moments in 2024, propelled by memes and viral content.

Kaifeng had already launched initiatives to boost tourism before the cycling trend. In March, a special shuttle service from Zhengzhou to Kaifeng was introduced to encourage day trips. In April, the city debuted its “Wang Po Matchmaking” show at Wansui Mountain Martial Arts City to attract tourists.

Tourist offices nationwide have become increasingly savvy in using social media for city marketing. Given the absence of a substantial social media trend from June to November, it seems plausible that the cycling phenomenon was a coordinated marketing effort. It likely began with a large group ride in early November, which sparked student interest, and snowballed. Kaifeng capitalized on the social media buzz starting November 2, but the scale of the phenomenon probably far exceeded what anyone had expected.

A CRAZY RIDE

As the ‘Zhengzhou to Kaifeng Night Ride’ was reported by local media and hit social media charts during the first weekend of November, it didn’t take long for students to catch on and join the ride. By the second weekend of November, Zhengkai Avenue, the main road from Zhengzhou to Kaifeng, was buzzing with activity, packed with thousands of university students participating in the night ride. Waving national flags, singing songs – including the national anthem -, taking group pictures, the moment was all that mattered.

Night riding while waving the national flag.

While some foreign media speculated that the movement carried political undertones, citing at least one flag on the road advocating for the reunification of Taiwan with the motherland, it was likely more about patriotic youth waving non-controversial flags while channeling some nationalistic energy.

It was about “passion”—an English word that became synonymous with the nightly bike ride. It wasn’t about the soup dumplings or the exercise; it was about joy, freedom, and the pure, youthful energy of passion—an important theme for China’s Generation Z, the post-95 and post-00 generations, who often feel pushed and sometimes even paralyzed by the intense social pressures they face.

Night riders posing with a poster saying : You need passion in your life (source).

The trend was supported (or facilitated?) by Kaifeng authorities. On November 3, they set up shared bike stations along Zhengkai Avenue to manage the influx of cyclists. Police provided guidance at the scene and ensured safety throughout the night. Kaifeng’s Tourism Bureau issued a “cycling safety advisory” via its official WeChat account, encouraging visitors to adhere to traffic rules, travel sustainably, avoid peak times, and “enjoy the seasonal beauty of Kaifeng with a positive attitude.”

Starting on November 3, Kaifeng’s main tourist attractions, such as Millennium City Park, Wansui Mountain, and Daxiangguo Temple were specially opened to the ‘night riders’ in the middle of the night, even offering them free annual tourism passes (#开封多个景点为夜骑大学生免费#). At this time, the slogan “Youth is priceless, seize the night ride to Kaifeng” (“青春没有售价，夜骑开封拿下”) was actively promoted at Kaifeng tourist spots and in the media.

Historical cultural theme park Millennium City Park in Kaifeng on November 3, promoting free access to night riders and the slogan “Youth is priceless, seize the night ride to Kaifeng.”

The shuttle bus taking students back to Zhengzhou was provided for free.

On social apps like Xiaohongshu, students shared various ‘strategy guides’ for the best way to navigate the nightly ride to Kaifeng, including tips such as:

• Choose a comfortable shared bike and avoid unlocking it along the way. With a bike like HelloBike, the journey will only cost 19.5 RMB ($2.70). Starting from Zhengzhou Sports Center Station, head north on Jinshui Road and cycle east in a straight line to Kaifeng. The trip should take about 4 hours.
• From Zhengzhou University to Kaifeng Gulou, the total distance is 79.4 km, with an estimated travel time of 6 hours and 38 minutes. Including breaks and meal stops, the journey could take at least 8 hours.
• Bring a small flag for photo opportunities.
• Upon arrival, visit the Haidilao hotpot restaurant, where they provide blankets and snacks.
• Must-try local dishes: soup dumplings, egg casserole, and deep-fried dough with soy milk.

GOING DOWNHILL

During the weekend of November 8-9, numerous videos emerged showing thousands of students cycling from Zhengzhou to Kaifeng, revealing chaotic scenes (link, link). Some estimates suggested that over 30,000 students had arrived in Kaifeng in a single night.

The trend had a significant impact, raising several concerns. Safety issues loomed large as the sheer number of bicycles on the road created risks, especially given that many participants lacked experience with long-distance cycling. Traffic congestion reached such levels that some cars became trapped amid the cycling groups.

The shared bike system also faced severe challenges. While students eagerly undertook the 4-5 hour downhill journey to Kaifeng, they were unwilling to make the uphill return to Zhengzhou. This resulted in thousands of bikes being abandoned in Kaifeng or along the route, requiring retrieval by the bike companies.

Beyond logistical strain on the bike-sharing system, the abandoned bikes caused significant disruptions in Kaifeng, with entire roads blocked. In Zhengzhou, locals complained about a lack of available bikes for their commutes.

Shared bike chaos in Kaifeng.

While some praised the students’ adventurous spirit, others grew increasingly frustrated with the mounting problems.

By the afternoon of November 9, the official narrative shifted.

Initially, Chinese media celebrated the trend, but reports soon focused on its downsides. One widely shared story featured a 34-year-old man who had joined the ride with his daughter. Unaccustomed to cycling, he became exhausted after only 12-13 kilometers (about 8 miles) (#郑州34岁男子跟风夜骑开封后住院#). He was later hospitalized and diagnosed with hypokalemia (low potassium levels). The message? “Don’t blindly follow the trend.”

Authorities quickly stepped in to stop the night rides. Traffic police in Zhengzhou and Kaifeng issued a joint announcement banning the use of bike lanes on Zhengkai Avenue from 16:00 on November 9 to 12:00 on November 10.

Three major shared bike companies—Meituan, HelloBike, and Qingju—released statements reminding users that their bikes were not intended for cross-city travel. Bikes taken beyond designated zones would automatically lock and incur ‘relocation fees.’

Several universities implemented strict measures, ordering students back to campus and enforcing lockdowns. By Sunday night, some students took to Weibo to report that they were still not allowed to leave their campuses.

THE ROAD AHEAD

Despite the official crackdown on night rides to Kaifeng, some Zhengzhou students have now shifted to walking the entire route, a journey that can take up to 11 hours—equating to 70,000-100,000 steps on a smartwatch pedometer.

Unable to cycle, groups of students decided to walk to Kaifeng.

The crackdown on the nightly cycling craze has also prompted some reflection.

While many netizens praise the students for “truly embodying youth and vitality,” others see a deeper significance in the trend.

On Weibo, author Xu Kaizhen (许开祯) offers his perspective on what the Kaifeng phenomenon reveals about Chinese youth today. He writes:

“On the surface, the Kaifeng craze appears to be the latest trend in cultural tourism. But at its core, it has nothing to do with tourism. What is it really about? It’s about young people, about youth. And it’s not about youthful rebellion or hormones—modern youth have moved beyond that. It’s about escape. A collective, grand escape. An escape from a mediocre era, a mediocre life, and even a mediocre background. Every young person who joined the night ride was driven by a need to escape. Dissatisfied with reality yet powerless to change it, they turned to this collective unconscious act of performance art.”

Despite the criticism, it seems many hold a soft spot for China’s youth, understanding the challenges they face. As one popular comment puts it: “I dearly love this generation of Chinese youth. Their daytime has been drained by the previous generation, leaving only the night for them to carve out some space to unwind. ‘Escape’ describes it perfectly.”

For now, it seems the Kaifeng trend isn’t over. What began as an innocent, fun-loving initiative has turned into a mass mobilization that raises questions about hyped-up tourism, city marketing, and, most importantly, the boundless energy of China’s new generation. While the phenomenon has left many puzzled, some argue it’s crucial to grasp the youth’s yearning for these kinds of adventures.

As Xu Kaizhen concluded: “Perhaps by understanding this night ride, we can truly understand this generation. No—perhaps we can begin to understand the coming era.”

See our X thread with videos on this trend.

By Manya Koetse, with contributions by Miranda Barnes
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