China Celebs
Zhai Tianlin’s Alleged Plagiarism Triggers Discussions on Academic Cheating in Chinese Universities
“Colleges and Universities face great corruption problems, that is what you should be looking into.”

Published
6 years agoon
By
Gabi Verberg
Earlier this month, Chinese actor Zhai Tianlin (翟天临) drew the public’s attention for his appearance at the CCTV Spring Festival Gala, where he starred as a police officer preventing his parents from being scammed. Now, Zhai, again, is at the center of attention: not for his acting skills, but for allegedly committing academic fraud.
The famous actor is a Beijing Film Academy Ph.D. graduate and postdoctoral candidate at Peking University, one of China’s most renowned universities.
His alleged academic misconduct has been a topic of discussion for some days now. During a live broadcast with fans, Zhai apparently said he did not know what CNKI (知网) is, an academic database that all scholars in China will be familiar with.
It led to suspicions on Zhai’s academic standing, and people on the Quora-like Q&A platform Zhihu accused Zhai of not publishing any academic papers in recognized scholarly journals – something that is mandatory for Ph.D. students in China in order to fulfill their graduation requirements.
Zhai’s academic records increasingly became the focus of attention on February 9th, when one Weibo user (PITD亚洲虐待博士组织), a graduate student from Beijing, posted the results of a plagiarism detection test that was run on one of Zhai’s papers.
The test result revealed that of the 2783 words used in the paper, that was published last year, 1482 words were copied from other texts, indicating a 40.4% similarity score.
After the Beijing Film Academy released a statement that they would be investigating Zhai Tianlin, state media outlet China Daily posted a message on their Weibo account, stating that “academic standards must be the same for everyone” and that “postdoctoral researchers are a university’s greatest honor, ” and that “who wants to carry the crown should also carry the weight.”
On that same day, Peking University also published a statement saying that they are investigating the incident.
Zhai Tianlin (1987), who is also known as Ronald Zhai, is most known for starring in various popular Chinese TV shows and dramas, such as White Deer Plain and The Advisors Alliance.
The plagiarism allegation case has become a major topic of discussion on Chinese social media this week. The hashtag “Peking University Responds to Zhai Tianlin Case” (#北大回应翟天临事件#) has been viewed a staggering 650 million times on Weibo at time of writing, while the hashtag “Beijing Film Academy Sets Up Zhai Tianlin Investigation Team” (#北电成立翟天临事件调查组#) received more than 490 million views.
The storm is not likely to blow over soon, as new reports now also allege that Zhai’s MA-thesis relies heavily on the scholarly work of Chen Kun, a famous Chinese actor who also attended the Beijing Film Academy.
Although the scandal has triggered countless reactions condemning Zhai, there are also many people on social media who are directing their anger towards the universities and state media, with one typical comment saying: “By solely focusing on Zhai, you are avoiding the real problem. Colleges and universities face great corruption problems, that is what you should be looking into.”
Another person wrote: “I feel like the public opinion is focused too much on this case of ‘academic misconduct.’ What the media should be investigating is: why was the paper not checked for plagiarism before its publication? What the Beijing Film Academy should be looking into is how somebody can graduate with a paper that is not up to standard? And how someone who clearly doesn’t hold the appropriate academic abilities has access to its programme.”
“Peking University and Beijing Film Academy are both responsible for this fraud. How could they ever enroll such a fraudulent person?!” others wrote.
Some commenters seem to have no trust in China’s academic standard, saying: “Are you telling me you [the universities] didn’t know about this when you admitted him? Now you are setting up investigation teams, but it is all just for show.”
Academic corruption in the Chinese educational context has been a well-known problem for years. As early as 2002, the Ministry of Education implemented various policies to combat academic misconduct, defining it as an act of academic dishonesty that is punishable, but the problem is still widespread (Kai 2012).
Some studies suggest that one of the factors that play a role in plagiarism in China relate to the fact that ‘plagiarism’ is something that is often defined in very general terms, with university handbooks nor policies clearly codifying instances of “appropriate and inappropriate source use” (Hu & Lei 2015, 236).
There are also many other factors at play, however, such as the pressure for doctorate students to publish their papers, and the phenomenon of “publishing cash incentives,” which would allegedly trigger more academic fraud.
On Chinese social media, many people express that they hope that the institutions involved will “set an example” for other universities and “be transparent” in the way they’ll handle Zhai in case he is found guilty of plagiarism.
Many also pointed out the irony in the fact that it was Zhai who played the police officer that prevented his parents from being scammed during the CCTV New Years’ Eve Gala.
“This is just all so embarrassing,” some write: “Now it looks like not just Zhai’s PhD status should be taken from him, but also his MA title.”
Others suggest that this whole scandal would make an excellent topic for another TV drama, starring Zhai Tianlin, doing what he does best: acting. Some voices suggest that people should wait for the investigations into Zhai’s work to be completed before condemning him. With the massive online attention for this case, it might not take too long for more facts to surface on the case. We’ll keep you updated.
By Gabi Verberg and Manya Koetse
References
Hu, Guangwei and Jun Lei. 2015. “Chinese University Students’ Perceptions of Plagiarism.” ETHICS & BEHAVIOR 25(3): 233–255.
Kai, Ren. 2012. “Fighting against Academic Corruption: A Critique of Recent Policy Developments in China.” Higher Education Policy (25): 19–38.
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©2019 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com
Gabi Verberg is a Business graduate from the University of Amsterdam who has worked and studied in Shanghai and Beijing. She now lives in Amsterdam and works as a part-time translator, with a particular interest in Chinese modern culture and politics.

China Celebs
Explaining China’s Collective Grief Over the Death of ‘Big S’ Barbie Hsu

Published
3 months agoon
February 11, 2025
FROM THE WEIBO WATCH PREMIUM NEWSLETTER
The death of Barbie Hsu (徐熙媛) has sent shockwaves across Chinese social media. Her unexpected passing, along with the circumstances surrounding it, quickly became the most talked-about topic on Chinese social media in early February.
Barbie Hsu (1976) is generally known as “Big S” (大S) in China. The Taiwanese actress, singer, and TV host is one of those people who just always seemed to be around. She wasn’t just frequently a trending topic on Chinese social media but was also a household name, together with her sister, in the world of China’s pop culture and entertainment.
Most people will know Hsu because of the famous 2001 Taiwanese series Meteor Garden (流星花园), in which she played the award-winning role of female protagonist Shan Cai (杉菜). That role also made her famous outside of China, as the series became popular in South Korea, Singapore, the Philippines, Malaysia, and beyond.
But her career had taken off years before that success. Together with her sister Dee Hsu (徐熙娣, “Little S” 小S), she formed the pop duo SOS (later “ASOS”) in the 1990s. The name stood for Sisters Of Shu (alternative spelling of Hsu), and was the source of their “Big S” and “Little S” nicknames.
She later made a switch to movies and was a TV host and a singer. While her sister Dee Shu gained recognition as the humorous host of the long-running talk show Kangxi Coming (康熙來了), Barbie Hsu also served as a stand-in host or guest on that show, as well as many others.
Besides her professional life, it was often Hsu’s private life that brought her to the top of Weibo’s trending charts. Her marriage to mainland Chinese businessman Wang Xiaofei (汪小菲)—with whom she had a daughter and a son in 2014 and 2016—frequently made headlines. The couple even participated in a reality show, and Hsu’s private life began to take on Kardashian-like proportions. The two were rumored to bicker over money issues after Wang opened S Hotel, a boutique hotel in Taipei designed by Philippe Starck and named after his wife.
Following their separation in 2021, much of the messy divorce drama between the two played out on Weibo and became the biggest celebrity topic of 2022. The ongoing drama started when Hsu accused her ex-husband of failing to pay alimony, with the accumulated amount allegedly exceeding NT$5 million (US$160,000). Wang Xiaofei then publicly and angrily responded to Hsu’s accusations with multiple emotional posts on his Weibo account, where he had over seven million followers. Everyone and everything got dragged into the drama, from Wang’s mother Zhang Lan (张兰) to Hsu’s new partner, South Korean musician DJ Koo Jun-Yup.
Hsu’s health and frail body also made headlines at times. In 2018, she was hospitalized after a epileptic fit brought on by a cold. Besides epilepsy, Hsu suffered from a chronic heart condition (mitral valve prolapse). In late January of this year, she traveled to Japan for the Chinese New Year and caught influenza during her trip. Her health deteriorated rapidly within just five days, and she passed away on February 2nd from influenza-induced pneumonia. She was only 48 years old.
The news of her death has had a massive impact on Chinese social media. On Weibo, the hashtag ‘Big S has Passed Away’ (#大S去世#) has garnered over 3.3 billion views within six days.
While the initial reaction was one of shock over her sudden passing, various other aspects of her life, legacy, and the circumstances surrounding her death have sparked broader discussions, turning it into a widely debated topic—one that many find particularly heartbreaking for various reasons.
➡️ As Barbie Hsu has been in the public eye for decades, many grew up watching her and following her for over 25 years. Even those who were not particularly fans of Hsu are now coming forward to express collective grief and nostalgia over her passing—like losing a piece of their younger self.
Similarly, the passing of the beloved pop star Coco Lee in 2023 also made people collectively reflect on a bygone era of Chinese pop culture that defined the youth of millions. Like Lee, Barbie Hsu was a big part of early 2000s Chinese pop culture. Some people admit that Hsu’s passing has left them crying for days.
Many netizens expressed grief not just for her death but also for the fading of a time when Taiwanese idol dramas and their own carefree youth were at their peak.
“I was in fifth grade when Meteor Garden aired, and I remember running home after school to watch it. I saved up 60 kuai ($8.6) to buy the DVD,” one Weibo user shared. “Such a lively and bold woman has suddenly disappeared, an entire generation’s youth and memories,” another person wrote.
➡️ The death of Barbie Hsu and the sudden, rapid progression of her illness—from influenza to fatal pneumonia—has raised awareness this week about the potential dangers of the flu. It has also triggered some public anxiety about the latest outbreak in Japan, which is experiencing its largest flu surge in 25 years, and how influenza is treated in the country.
Many are questioning why such a wealthy, well-known celebrity couldn’t receive effective treatment in Japan, a country generally perceived to have an advanced healthcare system. While it remains unclear how her condition deteriorated so quickly—especially since she allegedly appeared well and energetic at a January 25 banquet—it may not have helped that Hsu was in Hakone, an area without major hospitals like those in Kyoto or Tokyo. According to various media reports, Hsu sought medical assistance in the days leading up to her death but was not admitted to any hospital during that time.
In light of this incident, others also share their struggles with healthcare in Japan, claiming that costs and language barriers previously prevented them from receiving proper care while traveling there and falling ill.
➡️ Perhaps the strongest online response to Barbie Hsu’s death is related to gender dynamics, touching on topics such as feminism, misogyny, and patriarchy.
Many netizens argue that, despite always sacrificing herself for others, Hsu did not receive the love and care she deserved. The aftermath of her divorce from Wang Xiaofei left permanent scars on the superstar. Throughout her long career, Hsu consistently supported her family and became a family pillar and breadwinner. While navigating the harsh environment of the entertainment industry, she pushed herself and her body to the limits. Despite her efforts, she was always judged for her looks and body weight, and was later bullied and humiliated by her ex-husband.
A recurring sentiment among commenters, especially on Xiaohongshu, is that women, both in public and private life, are often overburdened while receiving little in return. Many pointed out that if someone as beautiful and successful as “Big S” could suffer under the burden of caregiving and the toxicity of the men around her, what hope is there for ordinary women?
At the same time, Hsu is also praised as an example of self-empowerment for all she accomplished, and as a reminder that taking good care of yourself is more important than seeking the validation of others.
➡️ On Weibo, the people expressing their grief over Hsu’s passing are also reflecting on the fragility of life. Notably, Hsu’s WeChat tag at the time of her death read, “Death is inevitable” (“死亡是必然的”).
In a past interview, she said: “Death is not scary. What’s scary is not being able to die. Aging is not scary. What’s scary is living forever.” (“死不可怕。可怕的是死不了。老不可怕。可怕的是长生不老。”)
By Manya Koetse
(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)
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China Arts & Entertainment
Controversial Wanghong Livestreamers Are Becoming a Weibo Staple in China
‘Wanghong’ was a mark of online fame; now, it’s increasingly tied to controversy and scandal.

Published
7 months agoon
October 27, 2024
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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Rob
February 15, 2019 at 4:40 pm
I did research into Chinese Universities and their (lack of) academic policies – not a single University among the top 50 in China had clear written policies. More to the point, the Universities I and friends worked in (USTB, Renmin, UIR, BFSU, UIBE) not only had no policies, but teachers who caught students were not allowed to apply suitable consequences (I caught two Masters students and the Department Head tried to convince me not to fail them).
Zhai’s case is only at issue because he’s highly public; nobodies in China who cheat and plagiarize still manage to get away with it, and University departments permit it and defend students who do it.
Of course, Chinese academia is full of this; there was a scandal in Beijing back in 2010-2011 where a group were translating academic papers into Chinese and selling them to Chinese scholars for publishing; in other cases, Uni profs were stealing their students’ work and publishing it as their own (USTB had a couple of cases of this).
Plagiarism is like any form of corruption in China – it only matters if you get caught in a very public way.