PREMIUM NEWSLETTER | ISSUE #46

Dear Reader,

Just a shorter newsletter this time (which I’ll explain), but I couldn’t overlook the death of Barbie Hsu (徐熙媛), which has sent shockwaves across Chinese social media. Her unexpected passing, along with the circumstances surrounding it, has quickly become the most talked-about topic of the week.

For those less familiar with Barbie Hsu (1976), she 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。”)

📝 This is just a short newsletter for now. The shortness of this edition and the recent brief hiatus on the site is because I’ve been battling a bad case of influenza over the past twelve days. This flu has unfortunately progressed into pneumonia and it’s quite literally knocked me out for a bit🤒.

I’ll still need some time to fully recover, but I expect to be back in the saddle very soon. Please bear with me if I’m a little slower than usual, but rest assured, more content is coming your way very soon.

Best,
Manya Koetse
(@manyapan)

This is an on-site version of the Weibo Watch newsletter by What’s on Weibo. Missed last week’s newsletter? Find it here. If you are already subscribed to What’s on Weibo but are not yet receiving this newsletter in your inbox, please contact us directly to let us know.

Featured image created by Xiaohongshu user “小罗Design”, title:《🥟饺子里的温暖 —— 回家过年》/ “The Warmth of a Dumpling – Going home for the Chinese New Year”

PREMIUM NEWSLETTER | ISSUE #45

Overview:
▶ Dear Reader – Watching the CMG Gala
▶ What’s on Weibo Chapters – 15 Years of Weibo
▶ What’s Popular – The “China Chic Girl” & Sketchy Takeout Food
▶ What’s Noteworthy – China’s Artificial Sun
▶ What’s Memorable – “The Spring Festival Survival Toolkit”
▶ Weibo Word of the Week – Fake Foreigners

Dear Reader,

This week, trending topics in China were dominated by two themes: Trump and the Chinese New Year. Unsurprisingly, it’s clear which of the two is the most significant for most people: the Spring Festival and the journey home. The phrase “回家” (huí jiā), meaning “returning home,” has been flooding social media in recent days.

The Chinese New Year, or the Spring Festival, falls on January 29 this year, welcoming the Year of the Snake. Spring Festival is the most important time of the year for family reunions, and for some, it’s the only time of the year to be together. The travel home, whether by car, plane, or train, often comes with sentimentality and melancholy. Adult children who lead important and busy professional lives suddenly find themselves transformed into their parents’ “babies” again, getting stuffed with food and peppered with endless questions.

“Going home” visualized by Xiaohongshu users through AI and digital images.

Although it is a joyous occasion, the social aspect of the Chinese New Year is not welcomed by everyone. On apps like Xiaohongshu, netizens are publishing guides on how to survive the celebrations, and the term “Spring Festival Social Anxiety” (春节社交焦虑) pops up frequently. Younger people, in particular, who want to avoid questions about their personal lives—such as their work, marital status, or income—often feel stressed out by family reunions and the pressure of not meeting their family’s expectations. For years, netizens have been sharing the questions they dread the most.

 
Spring Festival Gala: The Ultimate Distractor
 

But there is one major ray of light during the long Chinese New Year’s Eve, it’s the show everybody loves to hate but still watches—the China Media Group (CMG) Spring Festival Gala. As the ultimate distractor, it captivates millions of households, providing a much-needed escape from awkward conversations and family pressures.

Better known as Chunwan (春晚), the Spring Festival Gala is one of the world’s most-watched live televised events. Lasting a total of four hours, roughly from 8pm to 1am Beijing time, it has been annually broadcasted since 1983 and has become an integral part of the Chinese New Year’s Eve. While many young people consider the show corny and old-fashioned, it has become deeply ingrained in China’s social media culture, where complaining about the show on Weibo has become its own New Year tradition.

Since 2016, I’ve annually live-blogged the entire show from start to finish. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to do so this year as I’ll be on the road, but here are some key pointers on what to pay attention to.

 
Mixing Official Propaganda with Entertainment
 

📺 First, you might ask: why should you watch the Gala at all? One reason is its sheer viewership and the chance to be part of a collective experience. Last year, over 420 million people reportedly watched the show, generating billions of mentions across social media platforms.

🇨🇳 An even better reason, though, is to see what the show is highlighting. As CMG is under the direct control of the Central Propaganda Department of the Chinese Communist Party, the Gala serves as an important moment for the Party to convey its official ideology, promote traditional culture, and showcase the nation’s top performers. While it’s also a commercial event, the Gala remains highly political, mixing official propaganda with entertainment.

Watching the entire show from start to finish be a bit much, but keeping an eye on the key highlights and noteworthy moments is definitely worth your time. It offers insights into important themes across culture, entertainment, politics, diplomacy, and even military affairs.

🪖 For example, last year’s Gala drew attention with the performance of the PLA song “Decisive Victory” (决胜). Delivered by artists from the PLA Cultural and Artistic Center, the performance featured soldiers in combat gear marching and dancing, with a backdrop of rockets, tanks, and war-like scenes. Taiwanese media framed the song as a reflection of mainland China’s military stance toward Taiwan, and some Weibo users interpreted it similarly. The performance gained further attention because it followed a duet of the song “Etiquette” (礼序) sung by performers from both Taiwan and mainland China, interpreted by some as a statement of “diplomacy comes before violence” (先礼后兵).

🏔️ This year’s Gala will not only feature performances from Beijing but also sub-venues in Wuhan, Lhasa, Wuxi, and Chongqing. For these cities, it’s a valuable opportunity to promote local culture and attract more tourists.

🤖 In recent years, the Gala has also become a platform to showcase China’s innovative digital technologies. In 2021, the show explicitly branded itself as a “tech innovation event” by incorporating 8K ultra-high-definition video, AI+VR studio technologies, and cloud-based performance coordination. This year, expect even more cutting-edge tech, including virtual production, 3D effects, and advanced AI, to bring Chinese cultural performances to life while underscoring China’s role as a global tech leader.

🧏‍♂️ Notably, this year’s Gala will feature audio-described and sign language versions for the first time, making it accessible to visually and hearing-impaired audiences. Sign language interpreters, using AR virtual technology, will appear in the Gala studio alongside the live broadcast. A split-screen feature will show both the live program and the interpreters, supported by AI-generated subtitles for hearing-impaired viewers. This marks a significant step toward a more inclusive approach by state media.

📕 One of this year’s key sponsors is Xiaohongshu (aka Rednote), an app that has recently dominated headlines as a surge of “TikTok refugees” migrated to its platform. Partnering with the Spring Festival Gala is a major traffic and visibility boost, making this one of Xiaohongshu’s most commercially successful years since its 2013 launch.

👩🏻 Also noteworthy: for the third time in a row, the Gala is directed by female director Yu Lei (于蕾), who also directed the 2024 and 2023 Gala. The 46-year-old Yu Lei previously also served as the general scriptwriter and overall designer for the Gala. The past year has really been a flourishing year for female directors in China, from cinema to TV, where female directing talent has been more visible and successful than ever before. This rise of female talent is also reflected in the Gala’s top creative team consists of 19 people: 11 of them are female.

📽 By now, the last rehearsal of the show has already been completed. The entire show is usually completely rehearsed a total of five times before Chinese New Year’s Eve. These rehearsals are recorded and almost nothing ever goes wrong during the live show – besides some bad lipsyncing here and there – since the recording is running at the same time so that producers can always switch to a pre-recorded act.

🔶️ On January 28, the show will also air via various channels, from CCTV to Bilibili, and also via Youtube here. The entire programme is usually released a day before.

Happy watching! Wishing you all joy, prosperity, plenty of dumplings, and good health in the Year of the Snake.

Best,
Manya
(@manyapan)

What’s on Weibo Chapters

Last week, I shared the first deep dive of What’s on Weibo Chapters with you. This month, our theme is 15 Years of Weibo. This week, Sinologist and China correspondent Casper Wichmann shares his insights on Weibo’s evolving role in shaping public opinion, its key moments, and whether it can remain a major platform for public discourse in China’s increasingly crowded digital landscape. At the University of Copenhagen, Wichmann previously researched Sina Weibo as a new public sphere on the Chinese internet.

With Weibo now 15 years old, we asked Wichmann about three things:
📌 Weibo’s evolving role in shaping public opinion: Has it become more or less effective, and has its social impact shifted? Which news stories highlight Weibo’s continued relevance or its changing influence?
📌 Changing government strategies on the Weibo platform: What pivotal moments stand out when Weibo emerged as a political tool?
📌 Weibo’s present & future in a crowded digital landscape: Can it still compete as a major platform for public discourse, or is it transitioning into a new role altogether?

Read this feature article to find out what Casper had to say about this:

What’s Popular

The latest buzz in arts, marketing & pop culture

– by Ruixin Zhang

“What should we order for dinner?” is a daily dilemma for millions of Chinese consumers in one of the world’s largest food delivery markets. With numerous platforms, cuisines, menus, and discount options, choosing the right takeout—one that is tasty, affordable, and safe—can feel like a daunting task.

But these days, many Chinese people follow a simple rule to identify bad takeout: if your delivery comes in packaging featuring a playful young woman wearing sunglasses, a traditional Peking opera headdress, and holding a fan—often with the bold trendy character “潮” (cháo, meaning “trend”)—it’s likely to be an unhealthy meal with potential food safety risks.

As one netizen joked, “I was so excited for my takeout, only to see this lady on the package and feel my heart sink.” Why does this seemingly cheerful cartoon figure has come to evoke so much distrust and dislike?

This story starts in 2020, when digital illustrator @YUMI created the “China-chic Girl” image in response to a client’s request for a design that embodied the “China-chic” (国潮, guócháo) aesthetic.

China-chic, or guócháo—literally meaning “national tide”—refers to the rise of Chinese domestic (fashion) brands that often incorporate culturally Chinese elements into contemporary designs. This trend emerged as a reflection of growing nationalist sentiment in China, offering a Chinese counterpart to popular Japanese or Korean-inspired styles. From fashion and makeup to milk tea, ‘China-chic’ quickly became a defining element of China’s consumer culture (read more here).

However, when YUMI’s client failed to pay, she chose to release the design for free public use. YUMI’s creation—a blend of traditional Peking opera elements and modern sunglasses—struck a chord with its simple yet iconic charm. Its accessibility made it even more appealing, and the China-chic Girl soon became the go-to design for restaurants looking for affordable, visually striking takeout packaging.

On China’s wholesale website 1688, you can find a wide range of cheap takeout packaging with the “China-chic girl” on it.

The China-chic Girl was all the rage, until last fall.

Starting in September, some delivery drivers began exposing filthy kitchen conditions on social media, warning customers to avoid takeout from certain restaurants after witnessing food safety issues and kitchen hazards while waiting for orders.

Over time, people began noticing a pattern: the dirtiest kitchens were often small, non-chain establishments with no physical storefronts—just cramped spaces dedicated solely to takeout. Operating on tight budgets, these businesses often chose the inexpensive China-chic girl packaging to cut costs, unintentionally associating the China-chic girl with unsanitary and unsafe food practices.

As a result, netizens—especially young people who heavily rely on food delivery—started compiling guides to help each other avoid sketchy takeout options. The warning signs? Restaurants offering “cashback for good reviews” or those that lack a proper storefront, often listing only food items instead of a real restaurant name. These red flags point to private kitchens, poorly managed spaces, or even unregulated food safety practices. Additionally, many of these ‘China-chic takeouts’ thrive within the “group-buying” model on food delivery platforms.

The “group-buying” model, popularized by platforms like Temu and its Chinese counterpart Pinduoduo (拼多多), allows users to invite friends, family, or colleagues to purchase a product together at a discounted price.

This strategy has since evolved into a pseudo-group-buying model, where even without inviting others, the group-buying discount is still applied. These discounts are carefully calculated by platforms to ensure that, even at reduced prices, profits can still be made due to the high sales volume.

Both Meituan (美团) and Eleme (饿了么)—the two largest food delivery platforms in China—have adopted this approach by introducing budget-friendly services such as Pinhaofan (拼好饭) and Pintuan (拼团) to target lower-tier markets.

For example, a typical 30 RMB ($4.15) takeout might cost only half that price through these services, with additional platform coupons and new user discounts making it almost irresistibly affordable.

But, of course, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. As many users have discovered, getting a full meal for under 10 RMB ($1.40) often comes at the expense of quality. These Pinhaofan takeouts commonly feature pre-made dishes with indistinguishable ingredients, flimsy utensils that can’t even scoop rice, a box of suspicious juice full of artificial coloring, low-grade packaging, and, of course, that cheap, once-iconic China-chic design.

(Want to know more? There’s more to know on how “China chic girl” has gone from being a playful symbol of pride in domestic products to representing the problems of China’s fast and cheap takeout industry: read the rest of the article here.)

 

What’s Noteworthy

Smaller headlines with big impact, by Grimm Belterman

Since the week was filled with headlines about Trump’s inauguration, you might have missed another major event: the breakthrough of China’s “Artificial Sun,” a nuclear fusion reactor, which broke its own record and brought humanity closer to achieving near-limitless clean energy. Online, this milestone was celebrated as a sign of China’s growing technological and scientific leadership, with many envisioning a future of carbon-free energy led by China.

The record was set on January 20, when the Chinese Experimental Advanced Superconducting Tokamak (先进实验超导托卡马克实验装置), or EAST, operated stably for 1,066 seconds. EAST is a nuclear fusion reactor located at the Hefei Institute of Physical Science in Anhui province, designed to generate clean and sustainable nuclear energy.

EAST is often called the “Artificial Sun” because it mimics the process that powers stars—fusing hydrogen atoms to release vast amounts of energy in the form of heat. During this experiment, EAST generated temperatures exceeding 100 million degrees Celsius—around seven times hotter than the Sun’s core. This new record surpassed the previous one of 403 seconds, also set by EAST in 2023, by more than double.

This “triumph” sparked widespread excitement on platforms like Weibo. Hashtags such as “Artificial Sun Sets 1 Billion Degrees for 1,000 Seconds” (#人造太阳创1亿摄氏度1000秒纪录# ) and “China’s Artificial Sun Makes Major Breakthrough” (#中国的人造太阳有重大突破#) made it into the top trending lists. Notably, some netizens framed the achievement within the context of global technology competition, proudly highlighting China’s progress as surpassing that of the US and EU.

 

What’s Memorable

Best reads from the archive

As the 2017 Chinese New Year approached, a humorous and unique song went viral on Chinese social media. It captured the pressure young people face when bombarded with nagging questions from family and relatives during the Spring Festival.

Composer Jin Chengzhi (金承志) and his choir, The Rainbow Chamber Singers (上海彩虹合唱团), won the hearts of Chinese netizens with their hit song “What I Do Is For Your Own Good” (春节自救指南, literally: The Spring Festival Survival Toolkit). A perfect pick for this week’s archive spotlight—check out the explanation and video via the link below.

Read here 

Weibo Word of the Week

The catchword to know

Fake Foreigners | Our Weibo phrase of the week is 仿冒外国用户账号, fǎngmào wàiguó yònghù zhànghào, meaning “fake foreign user accounts” or “user accounts that pretend to be foreigners.”

The phrase came up in a Weibo hashtag last week that attracted over 210 million views (#抖音已处理1万多仿冒外国用户账号#), about Douyin, the Chinese version of TikTok, having dealt with more than 10,000 fake foreign accounts in the wake of the “TikTok Refugee” trend.

In case you missed it (though you probably didn’t): With a TikTok ban looming in the US (briefly taking effect last Sunday before being delayed), millions of American TikTok users began migrating to other platforms this month. The most notable was the Chinese social media app Xiaohongshu (also known as Rednote), which saw a huge influx of so-called “TikTok refugees” (TikTok难民). Many were searching for what they believed to be a “Chinese version of TikTok” (read more about the story here). Seeing Xiaohongshu’s success, Douyin, the actual Chinese version of TikTok, also opened its registration process to international users.

What started as a protest against the TikTok ban and US policies turned into a surprising celebration of cultural exchange. Chinese and American netizens found a digital space to interact and connect—on the Chinese internet.

However, the hype also brought its downsides. Black market groups quickly jumped on the trend, looking to profit by gaining followers and click traffic. They created thousands of fake “foreign” accounts by reposting videos or even crafting AI-generated foreign personas.

Is the painting moving, or is this just another fake foreigner?

This phenomenon has fueled skepticism among Chinese internet users—already wary of online scams—about connecting with strangers online. One netizen joked, “Don’t buy anything from people and don’t make new friends, and you’ll never be scammed.”

Others commented: “Xiaohongshu and Douyin’s teams must be swamped these days. Meanwhile, Weibo is nice and quiet in comparison!”

This is an on-site version of the Weibo Watch newsletter by What’s on Weibo. Missed last week’s newsletter? Find it here. If you are already subscribed to What’s on Weibo but are not yet receiving this newsletter in your inbox, please contact us directly to let us know.