PREMIUM NEWSLETTER | ISSUE #48

Dear Reader,

“It’s not that I don’t understand, it’s just that the world is changing so quickly,” one Weibo blogger commented this week, after yet another major news development hit the breaking news section.

Chinese social media has been flooded with discussions about the geopolitical shake-ups triggered by the Russia-Ukraine War and Trump’s policy shifts.

From the Oval Office clash to Trump’s ‘pivot’ to Russia, I’ve been monitoring the public sentiment on Chinese social media. You can read how Chinese netizens are interpreting the rapidly changing geopolitical landscape in our latest update here.

At the same time, the Two Sessions (liǎnghuì 两会), China’s largest annual parliamentary meetings, are also taking place. These meetings, which outline policy priorities, economic targets, and development plans for the upcoming year, commenced at the Great Hall of the People in Beijing on March 4 and will continue until March 11.

This includes the annual meeting of the National Committee of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC) advisory body and the meeting of the National People’s Congress (NPC), China’s legislative assembly—often described as a rubber-stamp parliament. This major political event is heavily propagated on Chinese social media, mainly on Weibo and Douyin.

Beyond providing insight into China’s strategic direction, the Two Sessions are also significant because they give delegates from across the country the opportunity to make their voices heard by China’s top leaders. These proposals and “suggestions” (建议)—essentially influential recommendations to government departments—often reflect public concerns and frequently go viral on Chinese social media.

For example, in previous years, a proposal to prohibit single women from freezing their eggs in an attempt to encourage marriage and childbirth sparked heated discussions on Weibo. Last year, another noteworthy proposal suggested that China’s online influencers—whether celebrities or e-commerce stars—should face harsher penalties than the general public for engaging in illegal activities, due to their influence on society.

This year, several new proposals have gained significant online attention. Here are five trending proposals from the past few days:

1. Integrating Sexual Assault Prevention into the School Curriculum

Hashtag: #建议将防性侵教育纳入义务教育课程体系#

🔹 In recent years, sexual assault against minors has become a frequently discussed topic in Chinese media. During this year’s Two Sessions, NPC delegate Fang Yan (方燕) is advocating for stronger protections for minors against sexual violence.

Among her key proposals, Fang suggests that school staff should be specifically screened for prior sexual assault offenses and calls for harsher penalties for those who commit such crimes. She also proposes that sexual assault prevention be integrated into the compulsory education curriculum through lesson plans and textbooks.

In the past, Chinese official media have launched awareness campaigns to help parents teach their children about sexual education and self-protection. However, these campaigns have also sparked online debate, with some arguing that sexual education should not be solely the parents’ responsibility—the education system should play a bigger role in addressing this issue.

2. Ban on Age Discrimination in Employment

Hashtag: 建议将禁止就业年龄歧视纳入法律

🔹 If you’re familiar with Chinese job advertisements, you’ll know how common it is to see age restrictions across different industries. Job listings often include requirements like “must be under 35”—or even physical requirements like “over 170 cm tall.”

This week, NPC delegate Meng Yuan (蒙媛) proposed officially banning age discrimination in hiring, aiming to tackle the “35+ job predicament” (“35岁+ 就业困境”) that many job seekers face. Although age discrimination is not yet officially recognized as employment discrimination in China, it remains widespread. Many companies prioritize younger workers for their lower salaries and perceived trainability, often overlooking the value of experience that older employees bring. In some industries, age discrimination starts as early as 30.

While there is strong online support for such a labor law, many doubt that it will effectively change hiring practices, as job seekers over 35 continue to face widespread discrimination in the Chinese job market.

3. Addressing “Involution” in Chinese Education

Hashtag: #建议破除教育内卷#

🔹 You might remember an image that went viral during flu season, showing Chinese schoolchildren doing homework while hooked up to an IV in a hospital. These images, in many ways, embodied the concept of nèijuǎn (内卷), or “involution”—a term representing the intense academic pressures in China.

The image that went viral during flu season in winter of 2023.

This buzzword has been widely discussed on Chinese social media and reflects China’s highly competitive education system. One well-known cram school slogan summed up the rat race perfectly: “If you come to us, we will train your kids. If you don’t come to us, we will train the competitors of your kids.”

Now, “involution” has officially moved from online discussions to government reports, as the prevention of “involution-style” competition has been included in the Government Work Report. Delegate Yan Meirong (阎美蓉) also advocates for a better learning environment for children. Instead of focusing solely on numerical scores, he suggests introducing a grading evaluation system in classrooms and shifting the emphasis to critical thinking, innovation, practical skills, and emotional awareness.

Similarly, NPC delegate Liu Xiya (刘希娅) proposed shifting away from China’s “top-student selection” model and focusing more on children’s overall well-being, by emphasizing daily exercise and eliminating extra tutoring (#代表说0补课0月考孩子成绩都是A#).

4. The Impact of Short Videos on Children’s Attention Spans

Hashtag: #姚明建议开展未成年人息屏24小时行动#

🔹 Another noteworthy trending proposal comes from NPC delegate Yao Ming (姚明), China’s basketball icon. Yao wants to raise awareness about the impact of short videos on children’s attention spans, arguing that excessive screen time weakens deep-thinking abilities and makes it harder for kids to focus on reading long texts.

To tackle this issue, he proposed a “24-hour screen-free challenge”, endorsed by schools every semester, encouraging children to engage in alternative activities like music, sports, and the arts.

Another delegate, Bai Yansong (白岩松), suggested taking it even further, advocating for one screen-free day per month in all Chinese schools.

Some commenters jokingly suggested that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to implement this for adults, too.

5. Strengthening Governance Over AI Deepfakes and Voice Cloning

Hashtag: #雷军5个建议4个和汽车有关#

🔹 Lei Jun is the founder and CEO of Xiaomi, but made the news as a delegate submitting five proposals this week, which he also published on his public WeChat account.

Four of Lei Jun’s suggestions focus on the development of China’s automotive industry. He proposed creating a standardized system for AI-powered devices, as they play an important role in the future of AI in China. He believes China should lead the world in this industry by 2030, and to get there, stronger industrial collaboration, a clear standards system (since AI-enabled devices are rapidly emerging with different functions and qualities), and increased support from central and local authorities for R&D and everyday applications are needed.

He also proposed accelerating the commercialization of autonomous driving in China, improving the license plate design of New Energy Vehicles (NEVs) to better suit changing times (by, for example, adding smart features), and enhancing the overall NEV ecosystem.

But perhaps the proposal most popular with netizens was his call to strengthen governance over AI deepfakes and voice cloning to combat the illegal use of such technologies. Lately, there’ve been more stories involving fraudulent practices and scams that involve such technologies, and Chinese official channels have been trying to create more awareness on the abuse of such technologies.
 
🚀 There’ll be more Two Sessions news on the site soon, as Ruixin Zhang is currently working on an insightful piece about some noteworthy feminist issues related to the meetings.

I’ve sent this newsletter out through a new system integrated into my platform, so if there are any hiccups or you’re experiencing difficulties reading, opening links, etc., please let me know! If you receive this newsletter twice, my apologies in advance. Also, if you’re not receiving this newsletter in your inbox but should be, and are only reading it on the site, drop me a line and I’ll fix it asap.

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Warm greetings,
Manya Koetse
(@manyapan)

China’s Online Discourse on the Russia-Ukraine War

Why are some Weibo commentators calling Zelensky a ‘saint’? How are Trump’s policy shifts on Russia and Ukraine being received by Chinese netizens? And where does Taiwan fit into the bigger picture?

As the Russia-Ukraine war enters its third year, Chinese social media is once again flooded with discussions about the geopolitical shifts triggered by Trump’s policies. From the Oval Office clash to Trump’s ‘pivot’ to Russia, this article explores how Chinese netizens are interpreting the rapidly changing geopolitical landscape.

This article is part of the current focus topic for our What’s on Weibo Chapters: China’s Online Discourse on the Russia-Ukraine War.

A video has been making the rounds around the internet recently suggesting that Chinese nationals are fighting for Russia in the Donetsk region. The source is unknown, but some Chinese bloggers commented on the rumors.

➡️ Just because they speak Chinese doesn’t mean they’re Chinese nationals. There’s skepticism over the handwriting on the wall ( “Li Jingjing was here” “李晶晶到此一游”)—some argue the Chinese characters look poorly written, possibly by non-Chinese (such as Koreans).

➡️ Cosplay theory: Many believe it shows Chinese military fans or vloggers staging content, not real soldiers. There’s a lot of realistic military cosplay content on platforms like Kuaishou and Bilibili.

➡️ And then there are those wondering, “Who is Li Jingjing?!” Plus the Chinese blogger who jokingly pleaded: “Li Jingjing, come home—it’s not worth dying on the Russian battlefield.” Check out more on this below, including link to video:

What’s Trending

🎬 Ne Zha 2 Not in Taiwanese Cinemas

Ne Zha 2 continues to be a major topic of discussion on Chinese social media. Earlier this week, a top hashtag on Weibo (#哪吒2闯进全球前7却闯不进宝岛台湾#) highlighted the fact that Ne Zha 2 is not being released in Taiwanese cinemas. Taiwan enforces a strict quota of 10 mainland films per year, selected randomly by drawing lots—though exceptions are sometimes made. Despite the film becoming one of the highest-grossing animations worldwide, it remains absent from Taiwan’s screens. This has sparked some nationalistic responses, with many netizens suggesting that once Taiwan is “reunited with the motherland,” such quotas on mainland movies will no longer exist. Read more on Ne Zha 2 here.

🕯️ Death of Singer-songwriter Khalil Fong

Over the past week, Chinese netizens have been mourning Mandopop artist Khalil Fong (Fang Datong 方大同), who passed away at just 41. The American-born, Hong Kong–based R&B singer was widely seen as an inspiring figure who made a lasting impact on the mainland market by introducing fresh sounds. He won acclaim for his 2017 Journey to the West album and had only recently released a new album, despite battling illness for the past five years. The hashtag “Fang Datong Passed Away” (#方大同去世#) has garnered over 1.7 billion views on Weibo, where many are expressing their sadness over the loss of yet another young icon — with the death of Barbie Hsu still also being widely discussed.

🔪 Farewell to “Brother Knife”

Another beloved person who recently passed away is Li Kunpeng (李坤朋), better known as “Brother Knife” (菜刀哥) on the Chinese internet. During the devastating floods in Zhengzhou, Henan, in July 2021, Li became a local hero after a bystander’s video went viral showing him climbing onto the hood of a car that was being submerged in floodwaters, attempting to break the windshield with a kitchen knife, and calling on others to help. Thanks to his efforts, a grandfather and two children were successfully rescued from the sinking vehicle. Li, along with seven others, later received an award for their bravery—an act that stood out not only because of the tragic circumstances of the 2021 floods but also in a society where the “bystander effect” is a widely discussed phenomenon. Li passed away on March 3 at the age of just 39, after falling unexpectedly ill.

⭐ Xiaomi’s Lei Jun Shines at Two Sessions

 

🇨🇳 Tough Taiwan Language During Two Sessions

During the Two Sessions this week, Taiwan was a key topic, accompanied by a coordinated online propaganda campaign by Chinese official channels. The hashtag “Taiwan, Province of China” (#中国台湾省#) topped the trending list. CCTV posted an image on Weibo showing “China” in red with the text “Taiwan must return” below, stating: “Forward this! Taiwan Province, China—this is the only correct name for Taiwan! Taiwan has never been a country; it never was and never will be.” People’s Daily shared another version, declaring: “China will eventually achieve reunification; it is destined to be unified.”

The slogan “Taiwan was never a country” (“台湾从来不是一个国家”) has been ubiquitous across Chinese social media this week. It echoes a statement made by Foreign Minister Wang Yi during his March 7 press conference at the Two Sessions, where he stressed that the only official reference to Taiwan within the United Nations is “Taiwan, Province of China.” 📢 In our latest article, we provide more context.

 

What’s Noteworthy

Small news with big impact

We haven’t heard much from the well-known political and social commentator Hu Xijin lately. For those of you who’ve been following What’s on Weibo for a while, you might recall that I have often mentioned Hu Xijin’s perspectives in articles. With over 24 million followers on Weibo alone, the former editor-in-chief of the Global Times is one of those influential voices capable of shaping public opinion or sparking heated debates. He’s typically a daily presence on social media, always in the public eye.

However, since Hu Xijin abruptly went silent on Weibo in the fall of 2024 and stayed off social media for 100 days, his online presence seems to have lost some of its usual momentum.

The Weibo algorithms don’t appear to be boosting his posts as much anymore. He used to frequently dominate the trending hot lists, but I’m not seeing that happen lately.

Perhaps Hu himself sensed that things on Weibo weren’t going his way either, which might explain why he announced this week that he’s launching a new account on Xiaohongshu (also known as Rednote), the Chinese social app focused on lifestyle, fashion, and food—and not particularly on politics.

This shift to Xiaohongshu is funny for multiple reasons. This is the same man who, ahead of Pelosi’s controversial Taiwan visit, suggested it would be okay to shoot down her plane if Chinese fighter jets couldn’t stop it from landing in Taipei. He’s not exactly the kind of person you’d expect to see cheerfully talking about his favorite foods. Yet here he is, chatting about snacks, showing off his workout routine, and sharing his international experiences.

In his first video on the platform, Hu Xijin vowed not to discuss politics, but instead to focus on his everyday life. So far, he’s doing just that—and seems to be smiling a lot more. At the same time, Hu doesn’t seem too concerned—or perhaps just doesn’t care—whether Xiaohongshu’s typical user base (mostly young, educated female consumers) is thrilled about his presence on the platform. After his first video, he received plenty of sarcastic comments and jokes. “Gosh, this scared me,” some wrote, while others asked: “Who let their dog out?”

An image on Xiaohongshu mocking Hu Xijin.

In the end, some wonder whether ‘Old Hu’ is really on the app to share his lifestyle, or if he’s simply looking for an extra stream of monetization now that his career as a political commentator seems more vulnerable. He may be muted when it comes to talking about Beijing’s politics and economy—but when it comes to Beijing dumplings, he won’t be silenced anytime soon.

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PREMIUM NEWSLETTER | ISSUE #47

Dear Reader,

These days, everybody is talking about Ne Zha 2 (哪吒2:魔童闹海), the recent hit film about one of China’s most legendary mythological heroes. With its spectacular visuals, epic battles, funny characters, dragons and deities, and moving scenes, the Chinese blockbuster animation is breaking all kinds of records and has gone from the major hit of this year’s Spring Festival film season to the 7th highest-grossing movie of all time and, with its 13.8 billion yuan ($1.90 billion USD) box office success, now also holds the title of the most successful animated film ever worldwide.

But there is so much more behind this movie than box office numbers alone. There is a collective online celebration surrounding the film, involving state media, brands, and netizens. On Weibo, a hashtag about the movie crossing the 10 billion yuan ($1.38 billion) milestone (#哪吒2破100亿#) has been viewed over a billion times. Social media timelines are filled with fan art, memes, industry discussions, and box office predictions.

The success of Ne Zha 2 is not just a win for China’s animation industry but for “Made in China” productions as a whole. Some argue that Ne Zha‘s triumph is not just cultural but also political, reinforcing China’s influence on the global stage and tying it to the ongoing US-China rivalry: after growing its power in military strength, technology, and AI, China is now making strides in cultural influence as well.

In a recent Weibo post, state broadcaster CCTV also suggested that Hollywood has lost its monopoly over the film industry and should no longer count on the Chinese market—the world’s second-largest movie market—for its box office dominance.

Various images from “Ne Zha 2” 哪吒2:魔童闹海

The success of Ne Zha 2 mainly resonates so deeply because of the past failures and struggles of Chinese animation (donghua 动画). For years, China’s animation industry struggled to compete with American animation studios and Japanese anime, while calls grew louder to find a uniquely Chinese recipe for success—to make donghua great again.

 
🔹 The Chinese Animation Dream
 

A year ago, another animated film was released in China—and you probably never heard of it. That film was Ba Jie (八戒之天蓬下界), a production that embraced Chinese mythology through the story of Zhu Bajie, the half-human, half-pig figure from the 16th-century classic Journey to the West (西游记). Ba Jie was a blend of traditional Chinese cultural elements with modern animation techniques, and was seen as a potential success for the 2024 Spring Festival box office race. It took eight years to go from script to screen.

But it flopped.

The film faced numerous setbacks, including significant production delays in the Covid years, limited showtime slots in cinemas, and, most importantly, a very cold reception from the public. On Douban, China’s biggest film review platform, many top comments criticized the movie’s unpolished animation and special effects, and complained that this film—like many before it—was yet another Chinese animation retelling a repetitive story from Journey to the West, one of the most popular works of fiction in China.

“Another mythological character, the same old story,” some wrote. “We’re not falling for low-quality films like this anymore.”

The frustration wasn’t just about Ba Jie—it was about China’s animation industry as a whole. Over the past decade, the quality of Chinese animation films has become a much-discussed topic on social media in China—sometimes sparked by flops, and other times by hits.

Besides Ba Jie, one of those flops was the 2018 The King of Football (足球王者), which took approximately 60 million yuan ($8.8 million) to make, but only made 1.8 million yuan ($267,000) at the box office.

Both Ba Jie, which took years to reach the screen, and King of Football, a high-budget animation, ended up as flops.

One of those successes was the 2019 first Ne Zha film (哪吒之魔童降世), which became China’s highest grossing animated film, or, of the same year, the fantasy animation White Snake (白蛇:缘起), a co-production between Warner Bros and Beijing-based Light Chaser Animation (also the company behind the Ne Zha films). These hits
showed the capabilities and appeal of made-in-China donghua, and sparked conversations about how big changes might be on the horizon for China’s animation industry.

“The only reason Chinese people don’t know we can do this kind of quality film is because we haven’t made any good stories or good films yet,” White Snake filmmaker Zhao Ji (赵霁) said at the time: “We have the power to make this kind of quality film, but we need more opportunities.”

More than just entertainment, China’s animated films—whether successes or failures—have come to symbolize the country’s creative capability. Over the years, and especially since the widespread propagation of the Chinese Dream (中国梦)—which emphasizes national rejuvenation and collective success—China’s ability to produce high-quality donghua with a strong cultural and artistic identity has become increasingly tied to narratives of national pride and soft power. A Chinese animation dream took shape.

 
🔹 The “Revival” of China’s Animation Industry
 

A key part of China’s animation dream is to create a 2.0 version of the “golden age” of Chinese animation.

This high-performing era, which took place between 1956 and 1965, was led by the Shanghai Animation Film Studio. While China’s leading animators were originally inspired by American animation (including Disney’s 1937 Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs), as well as German and Russian styles, they were committed to developing a distinctly Chinese animation style—one that incorporated classical Chinese literature, ink painting, symbolism, folk art, and even Peking opera.

Some of the most iconic films from this era include The Conceited General (骄傲的将军, 1956), Why Crows Are Black (乌鸦为什么是黑的, 1956), and most notably, Havoc in Heaven (大闹天宫, 1961 & 1964). Focusing on the legendary Monkey King, Sun Wukong (孙悟空), Havoc in Heaven remains one of China’s most celebrated animated films. On Douban, users have hailed it as “the pride of our domestic animation.”

One of China’s most renowned animation masters, Te Wei (特伟), once explained that the flourishing of China’s animation industry during this golden era was made possible by state support, a free creative atmosphere, a thriving production system, and multiple generations of animators working together at the studio.

Still from Havoc in Heaven 大闹天宫 via The Paper.

➡️ So what happened to the golden days of Chinese animation?

The decline of this golden era was partly due to the political turmoil of the Cultural Revolution (1966–1976). While there was a second wave of successful productions in the late 1970s and 1980s, the industry lost much of its ‘magic touch’ in the 1990s and 2000s. During this period, Chinese animation studios were pressured to prioritize commercial value, adhere to strict content guidelines, and speed up production to serve the rising domestic TV market—while also taking on outsourcing work for overseas productions.

As the quality and originality of domestic productions lagged behind, the market came to be dominated by imported (often pirated) foreign animations. Japanese series like Astro Boy, Doraemon, and Chibi Maruko-chan became hugely influential among Chinese youth in the 1990s. The strong reaction in China to the 2024 death of Japanese manga artist Akira Toriyama, creator of Dragon Ball, also highlighted the profound impact of Japanese animation on the Chinese market.

This foreign influence also changed viewers’ preferences and aesthetic standards, and many Chinese animations adopted more Japanese or American styles in their creations.

However, this foreign ‘cultural invasion’ was not welcomed by Chinese authorities. As early as 1995, President Jiang Zemin reminded the Shanghai Animation Film Studio of the ideological importance of animation, emphasizing that China needed its “own animated heroes” to serve as “friends and examples” for Chinese youth.

By the early 2010s, the revitalization and protection of China’s animation industry became a national priority. This was implemented through various policies and incentives, including government funding, tax reductions and exemptions for Chinese animation companies, national animation awards, stipulations for the number of broadcasted animations that must be China-made. Additionally, there was an increased emphasis on animation as a tool for cultural diplomacy, focusing on how Chinese animation should reflect national values and history while maintaining global appeal.

It’s important to note that the so-called ‘rejuvenation’ of Chinese animation is not just a cultural and ideological project, there are economic motives at stake too: China’s animation industry is a multi-billion dollar industry.

 
🔹 “Are We Ne Zha or the Groundhogs?”
 

The huge success of Ne Zha 2 is seen as a new milestone for Chinese animation and as inspiration for audiences. The film took about five years to complete, reportedly involving 140 animation studios and over 4,000 staff members. The film was written and overseen by director Yang Yu (杨宇), better known as Jiaozi (饺子).

The story is all based on Chinese mythology, following the tumultuous journey of legendary figures Nezha (哪吒) and Ao Bing (敖丙), both characters from the 16th-century classic Chinese novel Investiture of the Gods (Fengshen Yanyi, 封神演义). Unlike Ba Jie or other similar films, the narrative is not considered repetitive or cliché, as Ne Zha 2 incorporates various original interpretations and detailed character designs, even showcasing multiple Chinese dialects, including Sichuan, Tianjin, and Shandong dialects.

One of the film’s unexpected highlights is its clan of comical groundhogs. In this particularly popular scene, Nezha engages in battle against a group of groundhogs (土拨鼠), led by their chief marmot (voiced by director Jiaozi himself). Amid the fierce conflict, most of the groundhogs are hilariously indifferent to the fight itself; instead, they are focused on protecting their soup bowls and continuing to eat—until they are ultimately hunted down and captured.

Nezha and the clan of groundhogs.

Besides fueling the social media meme machine, the groundhog scene actually also sparked discussions about social class and struggle. Some commentators began asking, “Are we Ne Zha or the groundhogs?”

Several blogs, including this one, argued that while many Chinese netizens like to identify with Nezha, they are actually more like the groundhogs; they don’t have powerful connections nor super talents. Instead, they are hardworking, ordinary beings, struggling to survive as background figures, positioned at the bottom of the hierarchy.

One comment from a film review captured this sentiment: “At first, I thought I was Nezha—turns out, I’m just a groundhog” (“开局我以为自己是哪咤，结果我是土拨鼠”).

The critical comparisons between Nezha and the groundhogs became politically sensitive when a now-censored article by the WeChat account Fifth Two-Six District (第五二六区) suggested that many Chinese people are so caught in their own information bubbles and mental frameworks that they fail to grasp how the rest of the world operates. The article said: “The greatest irony is that many people think they are Nezha—when in reality, they’re not even the groundhogs.”

While some see a parallel between Nezha’s struggles and their own hardships, others interpret the film’s success as a symbol of China’s rise on the global stage—particularly because the story is so deeply rooted in Chinese culture, literature, and mythology. This has led to an alternative perspective: rather than remaining powerless like the groundhogs, perhaps China—and its people—are transforming into the strong and rebellious Nezha, taking control of their destiny and rising as a global force.

Far-fetched or not, it’s an idea that continues to surface online, along with many other detailed analyses of the film. The nationalist Chinese social media blogger “A Bad Potato” (@一个坏土豆) recently wrote in a Weibo post:
“We were once the groundhog, but today, nobody can make us kneel!” (“我们曾经是土拨鼠，但是今天，没有任何人可以让我们跪下！”)

In another post, the blogger even dragged the Russia-Ukraine war into the discussion, arguing that caring too much about the powerless “groundhogs,” those struggling to survive, does not serve China’s interest. He wrote:

“(..) whether Russia is righteous or evil does not concern me at all. I only care about whether it benefits our great rejuvenation—whoever serves our interests, I support. Only the “traitors” speak hypocritically about love and justice. Speaking about freedom and democracy that we don’t even understand, they wish Russia collapses tomorrow but don’t care if that would lead to us being surrounded by NATO. So, in the end—are we Ne Zha, or are we the groundhog?”

One line from the film that has gained widespread popularity is: “If there is no path ahead, I will carve one out myself!” (“若前方无路，我就踏出一条路!”). Unlike the more controversial groundhog symbolism, this phrase resonates with many as a reflection not only of Nezha’s resilience but also of the determination that has been driving China’s animation industry forward.

The story of Ne Zha 2 goes beyond box office numbers—it represents the global success of Chinese animation, a revival of its golden era, and China’s growing cultural influence. Yet, paradoxically, it’s also all about the numbers. While the vast majority of its earnings come from the domestic market, Ne Zha 2 is still officially a global number-one hit. More than its actual reach worldwide, what truly matters in the eyes of many is that a Chinese animation has managed to surpass the US and Japan at the box office.

While the industry still has room to grow and many markets to conquer, this milestone proves that part of the Chinese animation dream has already come true. And with Ne Zha 3 set for release in 2028, the journey is far from over.

Best,
Manya
(@manyapan)

Some of the research referenced in this text can also be found in an article I published in 2019: The Chinese Animation Dream: Making Made-in-China ‘Donghua’ Great Again. For further reading, see:
►Du, Daisy Yan. 2019. Animated Encounters: Transnational Movements of Chinese Animation, 1940s-1970s. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press.
►Lent, John A. and Xu Ying. 2013. “Chinese Animation: A Historical and Contemporary Analysis.” Journal of Asian Pacific Communication 23(1): 19-40.
►Saito, Asako P. 2017. “Moe and Internet Memes: The Resistance and Accommodation of Japanese Popular Culture in China.” Cultural Studies Review 23(1), 136-150.

What’s on Weibo Chapters

🚀 In 2025, international media are more focused on Chinese social media apps than ever, especially after January’s “TikTok refugee” phenomenon, where waves of American TikTok users migrated to China’s Xiaohongshu app. This foreign focus on China’s online landscape also highlights some lingering misconceptions, with major media outlets still trying to label Chinese apps as “the Chinese Instagram,” “the Chinese Facebook,” and so on.

Some of these comparisons actually made sense around 2010, when Chinese companies were indeed building domestic versions of Twitter or Pinterest. But since then, these apps have evolved into something far bigger.

China’s online ecosystem is constantly shifting, and some of its biggest social apps are already 15, 20, or even 25 (!) years old. Their secret? It’s not about copying Western platforms anymore—it’s about rejecting a one-size-fits-all approach and embracing change. As Xiaohongshu’s Charlwin Mao (毛文超) puts it:

🗣️”We don’t ask ourselves if we’re a social or commerce company—we ask, what does the consumer want?”

📌 Xiaohongshu is not the “Chinese Instagram.” It also didn’t start as a shopping site that added reviews—it was a review site that added shopping, flipping the traditional e-commerce model on its head.

📌 One of China’s leading livestreaming platforms, Kuaishou, didn’t even begin as a livestreaming app. It started as a GIF-making tool, built its user base through other platforms, then evolved into a short-video app before skyrocketing during the livestreaming boom. Today, Kuaishou is a major player in generative AI, with its Sora competitor, Kling, emerging from this same adaptability.

💡 Chinese social media apps have grown into superapps by thinking outside the box, breaking free from labels, and evolving like chameleons—constantly adapting to user needs.

📱 In such a rapidly changing digital landscape, it’s high time for a short guide to understanding Chinese social media (especially since some subscribers have been requesting one for a while). This overview breaks down the top 10 Chinese social media platforms, their key functions, and what makes them unique. Whether you’re navigating China’s digital space for the first time or keeping up with its evolution, this list should offer a useful snapshot: