All hail Honor of Kings, the highest-grossing mobile game worldwide, according to data released by app intelligence platform Sensor Tower in July.
The brainchild of Chinese tech giant Tencent, the multiplayer online mobile game has held the prestigious post since February, and has held on to the top spot for six consecutive months.
A report of the Top Mobile Games by Worldwide Revenue released by Sensor Tower
Honor of Kings’ earnings, which totaled 225.8 million USD in July, mostly came from the Chinese mainland (94.6%). Taiwan and Thailand respectively contributed 2% and 1.6% to total revenue.
Following the publication of the report, a hashtag related to the game’s astronomical revenue went viral on Weibo, and has been viewed over 200 million times.
Chinese netizens have expressed their feelings of pride over the success of a made-in-China video game.
“Wow it ranks the top in the world? Made-in-China games still got it,” commented a netizen.
“Chinese games are the best!” enthused another.
Born as a mobile sibling to Riot Games’ legendary League of Legends, Honor of Kings has enjoyed huge popularity in China since its launch in 2015.
The latter has also piqued the curiosity of international players, and attracted the attention of industry insiders. After all, it is hard to ignore a game that earned a record figure of 10 billion USD in 2021.
A global release date for the mobile game has yet to be announced, but according to Tencent’s subsidiary Level Infinite, it will be available worldwide before the end of 2022. Developers have rolled out closed beta testing sessions in various countries including Brazil, Egypt and Mexico.
We have great news! We will be rolling out Honor of Kings by TiMi Studio Group to you global gamers by the end of this year!
Rounds of closed beta tests will be gradually announced starting next month.
The world’s second and third-highest grossing games are also of Chinese make: PUBG Mobile is a battle royal game developed by Tencent, while Genshin Impact is an action role-playing game developed by Shanghai-based developer miHoYo.
China’s hyper-developed mobile payment systems make in-app payments highly convenient, hence mobile gaming’s popularity and profitability in the country compared to elsewhere.
Even so, the domestic gaming industry experiences has had to jump through different sets of hurdles, such as government-ordered freezes, in the past year.
Walks of Fame is a monthly column where we profile a famous individual from China (or of Chinese heritage) whom you should know more about. In this edition, we introduce you to Chinese American actress Liu Yifei and her famous movies and TV shows from Hollywood blockbuster ‘Mulan’ to Chinese hit drama ‘Dream of Splendor.’
Formerly based in Queens, New York, little did 10-year-old Liu Yifei (then known as Liu Ximeizi) guess that she would one day be called a “triple threat” by Vogue. The actress, who has appeared in countless blockbuster films and TV dramas such as The Return of the Condor Heroes, A Dream of Splendor, and Disney’sMulan, is also an accomplished singer, and a model.
Fans in China, who fondly call Liu ‘Fairy Sister’ for her natural and ethereal beauty, closely watch her on Chinese microblogging platform Weibo, where she has a whopping 70 million followers.
In this month’s edition of Walks of Fame, RADII explores Liu’s rise to stardom while covering both her accomplishments and controversies.
From Wuhan to New York and Beijing
Liu Yifei dressed in traditional Chinese attire as a child. Image via Weibo
Born as An Feng in Wuhan, China in the Year of the Rabbit, or on August 25, 1987, specifically, Liu Yifei had grand ambitions as a little girl. Synonymous with her sweet appearance, she did some modeling at the age of 8, and pursued acting in her teens.
After Liu’s parents divorced when she was 10, she and her mother migrated to the U.S., and she changed her name from An Feng to Liu Ximeizi. The mother-daughter duo settled down in Queens, New York City, the most ethnically diverse neighborhood in the world.
According to Harper’s Bazaar, Liu led a pretty normal life between the ages of 10 to 14. Some highlights from this period of her life include learning English at a public school and being naturalized as an American citizen.
At the age of 15, the ambitious youth convinced her mother to return to China so she could pursue a career in acting; that year itself, she was accepted into the prestigious Performance Institute of Beijing Film Academy.
Adopting the stage name ‘Liu Yifei,’ she gradually rose as one of China’s A-List celebrities.
The ‘Triple Threat’ Factor
Shortly after enrolling at the Beijing Film Academy, Liu received multiple offers to star in TV series. 2003 saw her first TV appearance as an entitled young lady in period drama The Story of a Noble Family.
Liu Yifei as Bai Xiuzhu in The Story of a Noble Family. Image via IMDb
But her breakout role was in wuxia or martial arts drama Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils (2003), a TV adaption of Jin Yong’s namesake novel.
As acting offers began to pour in, so too did Liu’s fame grow. The actress, who tends to be typecast as a beautiful and strong noblewoman with magical or martial arts skills, earned the nickname ‘Fairy Sister’ after appearing in Chinese films and TV shows like The Return of the Chinese Paladin (2005), Condor Horses (2006), and The Forbidden Kingdom (2008).
Hollywood beckoned, and Liu soon found herself starring opposite Jackie Chan and Jet Li in wuxia film Forbidden Kingdom (2008) and Nicholas Cage in action film Outcast (2014).
In 2009, Liu Yifei was crowned one of China’s four most bankable actresses, a clear indicator of her having ‘made it.’
Acting aside, Liu had her sights set on a singing career, and signed on with Sony Music entertainment in Japan in 2005.
In just a year, she released two albums: a namesake album with Mandarin songs and a Japanese album titled All My Words. Her single ‘Mayonaka No Door’ even became the end credits theme song for Japanese anime series Powerpuff Girls Z.
All this time, the actress-singer was also getting endorsed by big name brands like Adidas, Shiseido, Dior, and Armani. On more than one occasion, she was picked as the cover model for magazines like Harper’s Bazaar and Vogue.
Even so, Liu considers acting her true calling. “Honestly, I think there are many celebrities out there who are prettier than me,” said the star candidly during an interview with CosmopolitanKorea.
“As an actress, it’s not only about looking good on camera, but being able to deliver the right emotions for the characters you play. This makes you more attractive on the screen. That’s why I focus more on acting rather than my appearance.”
A Role Worth Fighting For
Many voiced their doubts when Liu Yifei was chosen to play Mulan in Disney’s 2020 live-action film.
In an earlier deep-dive on the figure of famous female warrior Hua Mulan, RADII highlighted the heroine’s appearances in ancient poems as well as contemporary stories. First depicted in the ‘Ballad of Mulan’ from the 6th century, the female warrior disguises herself as a man to serve in the army and ultimately saves her homeland — a trajectory that repeats itself in Disney’s first animated version of Mulan (1998).
Chinese audiences were adamant that Liu wasn’t a good fit for the role. In fact, the star was nominated the ‘worst actress in China’ thrice on IMDb-like platform Douban.
Liu Yifei in Disney’s live-action take on Mulan. Image via IMDb
Regardless of haters, Liu fought tooth and nail to earn the role of Mulan.
According to The Hollywood Reporter, director Niki Caro’s casting process proved extremely selective. Over 1,000 aspiring actresses across the globe vied for the role, which required speaking fluent English, being trained in martial arts, and having experience in front of the camera.
Liu, with her wuxia background and experience of living in both China and the U.S, proved perfect for the role. Plus, her singing experience gave her an edge over her contenders.
Chinese audiences appreciated the film’s visuals but criticized its storyline and makeup. On this last note, Weibo users even started a makeup challenge to improve upon Mulan’s makeup.
Moreover, Liu received flack in China for describing herself as “Asian” instead of “Chinese” during Mulan’s red carpet premiere. Some nationalists were quick to complain and asked for the celebrity to be canceled.
Liu Yifei and her frowned-upon makeup in Disney’s Mulan. Image via IMDb
Despite all the hullaballoo surrounding Disney’s live-action Mulan, the movie propelled Liu into the global limelight, and cemented her status as one of China’s most iconic actresses.
Not long after the film’s release, Louis Vuitton approached the star to become one of the luxury brand’s new ambassadors.
Return to C-drama
Earlier this year, fans of Liu were over the moon to learn that she would be returning to historical C-dramas; after all, she had taken a break of 16 long years from the TV genre.
The drama in question, A Dream of Splendor, tells the story of three women as they transform a small tea shop into a successful business.
A massive hit in China, A Dream of Splendor garnered over 500 million views within days of being released, and has a high score of 8/10 on Douban. Furthermore, a Weibo hashtag related to the series has been viewed over 16 billion times. Weibo users ship Liu’s character and the handsome commander played by Chen Xiao.
Liu Yifei as Zhao Paner in A Dream of Splendor. Image via Weibo
While Liu hasn’t had an easy time of fame in some ways, the sweet-looking star has nerves of steel and that ‘it’ factor that makes her one of China’s most prominent celebrities.
Plus, the household name has her whole future ahead of her — Liu turns 35 in just a few days from the time of writing.
Set in an unnamed countryside in the thick of winter, Jigme Trinley’s 2021 film One and Four (一个和四个) is a ‘daytime noir’ that revolves around an eventful day in the life of a Tibetan forest ranger.
Played by Tibetan actor Jinpa, who frequently appears in contemporary Tibetan films, protagonist Sanggye is paid multiple visits by mysterious men, one after another.
Editor’s Note: Spoilers ahead; you’ve been warned!
Comparable to 1950 Jidaigeki psychological thriller and crime filmRashomon, One and Four unpacks multiple accounts as seen through the eyes of its main characters, who are highly suspicious of one another.
A cop aka ‘Tall Guy’ experiences a flashback of the events that led to his being injured: a car chase that ended with a crash and the death of the cop’s partner. While Tall Guy survived the car accident, he was wounded by a poacher while hiding out in the woods.
Sanggye suspects that his first guest is not the cop he claims to be, but the poacher. After the duo investigates the site of the crash, however, and equip themselves with a weapon for self-defense, Sanggye’s doubt dwindles.
They return to the cabin, and audiences discovers that Sanggye had in fact received another guest before Tall Guy’s arrival; tasked with delivering divorce papers from Sanggye’s wife, a neighbor by the name of Kunbo had paid Sanggye a visit before dawn. Nevertheless, no one knows why Kunbo called upon Sanggye so early in the morning — until later in the film.
After Sanggye and Tall Guy warm up with drinks and rejuvenate themselves, they are rudely interrupted by Kunbo, who breaks down the door with an axe. Sanggye and Tall Guy overpower Kunbo and tie him up while accusing him of being the poacher.
Next, Tall Guy forces Kunbo to carry out a task with him, leaving Sanggye alone in the cabin.
In the denouement, a fourth character — simply called ‘Short Guy’ — claiming to be a forestry cop enters the cabin before Tall Guy and Kunbo return.
The film culminates with a dramatic confrontation and crosscuts of the two cops denouncing one other; each claims to be ‘the real cop.’ A completely disorientated Sanggye (and audience members, almost certainly) are provided with a series of flashbacks packed with easter eggs that hint at the identity of the true poacher.
Not unlike Quentin Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight (2015), One and Four’s ensemble sees a colorful cast whose roles bear equal weight. Meanwhile, the film’s bleak setting, a snow-clad no-man’s-land, is reminiscent of Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s The Revenant (2015).
Albeit One and Four’s filming location — a Tibetan-speaking region in Qinghai province — and predominantly Tibetan crew, the film is strikingly different from its predecessors, most of which are profoundly tied to Tibetan culture in one way or another. Take, for example, Yang Zhang’s Paths of the Soul (2015), which addresses the topic of religious prostration, or Pema Tseden’s Ballon (2015), which highlights the clash between indigenous culture and modernity.
Director Jigme Trinley (third from left), director Pema Tseden (second from right), and members of One and Four’s film crew gesturing ‘one and four’ at the FIRST International Film Festival. Photo via Runjie Wang/RADII
Many wonder to what extent the director’s debut was influenced by Tseden, who is not only Trinley’s father, but also a mover and shaker in contemporary Tibetan cinema, and the producer of One and Four.
During a Q&A at the film’s screening at FIRST on August 3, Tseden admitted to visiting One and Four’s set on the first few of days of shooting. Afterwards, however, “the director wanted to let Wang Lei (the other producer) and the cinematographer pass on the message that I shouldn’t have come to visit,” he added.
Regardless of idle talk, Trinley’s new film and Tseden’s oeuvre of arthouse films bear little in common. The former, which is replete with guns, booze, boots, barren landscapes, and machismo, is undoubtedly a western, a thriller, or a combination of both.
During the Q&A, Trinley named Tarantino and Iñárritu, two directors known for their westerns, as his key influences while studying at the Beijing Film Academy. For example, the Tibetan filmmaker borrowed a trick employed by Oscar Award-winning cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki in The Revenant: During emotionally charged scenes, close-ups of characters are rendered using wide angles, which results in distortions, creating dramatic and visceral impressions.
A scene from Ariandro Gonzalez Inaritu’s The Revenant. Image via IMDB
Despite One and Four’s coordinates, the film is not another attempt to tell a Tibetan tale, but a locality-defying story that demystifies Tibetan culture, which is often exoticized in media portrayals.
The final ear-piercing tune at ALL Club, one of Shanghai’s most fashionable and progressive nightlife spots, petered out around 1 AM on the night of August 6. Normally, this would be a sign for guests to adjourn. Nevertheless, most of the crowd remained on the dance floor, standing still, and quietly drinking in the scorching hot, dimly-lit room.
Those in the know were gearing up for the next performance, and an unusual one at that. They weren’t there to get down to electronic beats or hip hop bangers, but to sway slowly to the ethereal and poetic tracks of Bloodz Boi’s new EP a crying poem.
Bloodz Boi performed at ALL Club in Shanghai as part of his 2022 China tour. Image via Weibo
Released on August 5, the EP features six tracks, or more precisely, six poems that were spun into songs with the help of Texan producers Claire Rousay and More Eeaze.
“I often write words down, and I call them ‘poems.’ That doesn’t mean they are worthy of scrutiny, but they come from the deepest part of my memories and are precious to me,” Bloodz Boi told RADII.
The artist, who built a name for himself in Beijing’s underground scene, is uncompromising and original. Shirking labels, he identifies as “a human who makes music.”
While many associate him with the rising genre of emo rap, the artist’s work is eclectic, and spans from trap to shoegaze.
“I don’t think my music should be ascribed to any genre; it’s just Bloodz Boi’s music,” he shrugged.
Bloodz Boi taking to the stage in Beijing as part of his 2022 China tour. Image via Instagram
Refusing to conform to the written and unwritten rules of the domestic star system, Bloodz Boi stays true to himself by practicing lyrical freedom and embracing face tattoos, even if the latter puts him at a disadvantage with regards to participating in China’s popular (and expensive) music festival circuit.
In a touching video interview with YouTuber Xiao Ma, the musician openly discussed his mental health and said, “I don’t make music for money, but to vent my emotions.”
The artist’s unfiltered approach resonates with both audiences in China and abroad: a crying poem has been well-received by respected online publication Pitchfork and bi-monthly British style magazine Dazed.
The artist has also been given his own monthly radio show on NTS Radio, an online radio station and media platform founded in Hackney, London, UK.
The artist, who is halfway through his China tour, shared, “I am a pretty closed person, and it’s a very courageous thing for me to go out there and sing for people. I have gained a lot from this tour, and I’ll talk about it more once it’s over.”
The EP is available on major streaming platforms such as Spotify, Apple Music, and QQ Music.
Audiences who aren’t well-versed with Mandarin can check out English translations of Blood Boi’s lyrics supplied by the artist himself on Genius.com.
At first, Chinese netizens were incensed by ice cream and music festival organizers who were trying to ‘assassinate’ customers with their prices. Now, they’re directing their wrath at Balenciaga for releasing the infamous ‘Trash Pouch.’
The said bag, which made its debut at the brand’s iconic Fall-Winter 2022 fashion show titled 360 Degrees in March, was literally inspired by plastic trash bags, but has one major difference — an astronomical price-tag. Would you fork out 1,790 USD for this season’s most talked-about accessory?
The bag’s launch was announced in a viral Instagram post, and it didn’t take long for the eyebrow-raising news to circulate Chinese social media. A related hashtag has gained over 270 million views on Weibo at the time of writing.
“Only rich people would get ripped off by this stuff,” said a netizen, implying that the bag is priced beyond the average salaryman’s range.
Another user joked, “Next season they should introduce plastic food boxes and disposable shoe covers.” Widely used in China, the latter ties into the Chinese custom of not wearing shoes indoors. Some hosts, who might not want to inconvenience their guests, may offer them one-time-use covers to slip on over their shoed feet.
Could disposable shoe covers serve as Balenciaga’s next muse? Image via Taobao
While many Weibo users have wondered if there is a market for such a quirky luxury item, repurposing everyday objects is not unheard of among young Chinese fashion designers.
Beijing-based fashion label Marrknull, which incorporated items from China’s recent industrial past in its 2020 collection Homesick, is a case in point. The brand’s oversized duffle bags (as seen in its Homesick lookbook) are redolent of Balenciaga’s ‘Trash Pouch.’
Marrknull’s Homesick lookbook. Image via Instagram
Good to know: In China, cheap polyester bags that look a lot like Marrknull’s duffle bags are sold at every other corner store. Migrant workers moving from the countryside to bigger cities in search of better employment opportunities often tote these bags — which cost less than 1 USD — while riding green-skinned trains.
Whether the ‘Trash Pouch’ will sell well remains to be seen, but one thing’s certain so far: Balenciaga designer Demna Vesalia has got the whole internet talking, and as some say, any press is good press.
Outdoor screenings of arthouse films, performances by indie bands, and special appearances by movie stars — these are a few exciting events you would least expect from Xining, a city located in one of the remotest regions of northwest China, and home to a large population of religious minorities.
During the annual FIRST International Film Festival, a mecca for Chinese indie film buffs that runs from end July to early August, the city witnesses an influx of visitors, and the city’s demographics experience a shift. Largely composed of filmmakers, journalists, film industry workers (i.e. distributors and investors), and regular cinephiles, the temporary residents are drawn to the aforementioned nocturnal activities.
Audience members gathered at Guozhuang Square for a live music performance. Photo via Haoyi Jiang/RADII
This year’s events, however, were less cheerful due to a last-minute announcement by the festival’s organizers: Only one week before the festival kicked off, it was made known that out of the concerns over Covid-19, all events or screenings would be invite-only.
Countless netizens took to Chinese social media to comment about the announcement, and ironically called the 16th edition of the festival a “film exhibition without an audience” — a description that wasn’t entirely accurate.
Xining’s nightlife scene experiences a boom during the annual festival — think live indie concerts (marketed as ‘Xining’s Night’ by the festival organizers) and open-air screenings. Held at Guozhuang Square, the festival’s main venue for outdoor activities, such events are always well-attended by locals.
Zhang Ziyi taking a group selfie with the public on July 31. Image courtesy of the festival
On the night of July 31, prestigious Hong Kong director Wong Kar-wai’s The Grandmaster was screened at the square. A sudden downpour did not dampen the audience’s enthusiasm, and their patience was rewarded with a surprise appearance by Zhang Ziyi, the lead actress in the film and a chairperson in the film competition’s jury.
Indie rock band Springiscoming performing at Guozhuang Square on the night of August 1. Image via Haoyi Jiang/RADII
Zhang’s presence in Xining proved so momentous that it even overshadowed other events. For instance, the next night, members of the crowd were heard muttering, “Will Zhang Ziyi be here tonight?” Mind you, this happened during a live performance by Springiscoming, an indie rock band. While Xining’s inhabitants knew enough about Zhang to be starstruck, indie bands and arthouse films might be beyond their ken.
Zhang Ziyi posing on the red carpet during the film festival. Image via Runjie Wang/RADII
Hui Wang, a PhD student in urban geography, informed RADII of a discrepancy between the festival’s popularity among Chinese cinephiles and its reception by the local community. Wang, who has interned for the festival, has conducted field research on the bidirectional relationship between Xining and FIRST during its last two editions.
“I’ve interviewed more than 20 Xining citizens, and most of them admitted that they’re not interested in attending events or screenings at the festival, although they have an inkling of the festival,” said Wang. Nevertheless, locals in the predominantly Muslim and eastern part of the city are barely aware of the festival.
Wang pointed out another invisible barrier for ordinary citizens to access the festival: ticket prices.
“Xining citizens do not have an interest in spending money to watch so many films in a single week,” she added.
When the screenings were made available to the general public in 2021, a one-day pass was sold for 150 RMB (about 22 USD) while an all-access pass cost 980 RMB. Considering the fact that Xining is in one of the least developed regions in China, and that the films are not commercial ones appealing to a large audience, the prices have not been cost-effective.
A page from the festival’s 2021 handbook listing ticket prices. Image courtesy of Hui Wang
For this reason, FIRST’s organizers have depended on nocturnal activities to engage with the local community. This was especially true for the 2022 edition of the festival, as the film line-up remained closed to the general public. ‘Xining’s Night’ and outdoors side screenings provided an opportunity for locals to participate in one of, if not the most, exciting event in the city’s annual calendar.
Cover photo courtesy of FIRST International Film Festival
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