Wang Kai, who inherited a “foreign trade company” (外贸厂, wài mào chǎng) from his family in Foshan, Guangdong, sells over 2,000 orders of hanfu, traditional Chinese clothing, per day to buyers around the world.
Foreign trade companies like Wang’s are experiencing a renaissance through the exponential growth of “cross border e-commerce” (跨境电商, kuà jìng diàn shāng) in China. Wang sells his hanfu on global e-commerce sites, where his customers are primarily in the U.S., the U.K., and also in smaller markets like Australia, New Zealand, and Southeast Asia.
Over the past few years, young people in China have seen cross border e-commerce as a new opportunity to hit the jackpot. Wang, who’s not yet 30, said there are around 200 e-commerce sellers in Foshan, almost all of whom are Gen-Z.
Yet on the other side of the Chinese border, attitudes towards e-commerce platforms are very different. Indonesia was, until recently, the second largest market for TikTok Shop. As reported by Rest of World, local businesspeople like the owner of a small hijab store in Yogyakarta feel that they are facing an existential threat from cheap imported products sold on e-commerce platforms such as Shopee, Lazada, and TikTok Shop.
In 2023, Indonesia was the first country to ban direct sales from social media, in hopes of reducing sales through e-commerce giants and bringing customers back to brick and mortar businesses. Now, government officials in Jakarta have announced that it will impose import tariffs of up to 200% on some products from China, as reported by AP. This is particularly significant as China had previously enjoyed low duties in Indonesia due to regional trade agreements.
Other countries in Southeast Asia are similarly calling for higher tariffs in an effort to protect local businesses. According to The Bangkok Post, Payong Srivanich, chairman of the Thai Bankers’ Association, is advocating for higher tariffs in fear of domestic companies shutting down.
However, TikTok Shop is experiencing its best year in Thailand so far. In the past year, the e-commerce giant reported more than 500% growth in gross merchandise value in Thailand, demonstrating the strength of the Southeast Asian market.
At the same time, Chinese sellers are also trying to position themselves optimally as the e-commerce market in Southeast Asia matures. According to one user on Xiaohongshu who advises on global e-commerce, sellers should set up e-commerce shops locally in Thailand to be truly profitable, taking advantage of the cheap cost of labor.
The beating heart of a city, its effervescent soul ever flickering day and night — in Hong Kong, neon signs are threatened, but for the time being continue to stand silhouetted against the dark night skies, dancing with their curvilinear shapes.
Whilst Hong Kong has undeniably lost much of its cityscape over the years, the presence of neon lights has been gloriously captured by films such as Ghost In The Shell and Doctor Strange, as well as in the interiors of hip bars like Ho Lan Jeng and Ping Pong 129.
LED screens such as this one in SOGO Causeway Bay are overtaking the cityscape, where many different advertisements are displayed to catch people’s attention, rather than the more traditional method of neon signs. Photo by Daryl Eng. The Regency Spa (麗晶桑拿) in Public Square Street, Yau Ma Tei, uses more classic neon displays. Photo by Daryl Eng.
Stroll around the city, and it’s not long before one notices the glaring difference between the giant LED screens vying for the general public’s attention in bustling commercial centers such as Causeway Bay and Central vis-à-vis the neon signs found in comparatively less busy neighborhoods such as Yau Ma Tei and Wan Chai.
These are prime examples of the ever-changing urban landscape. The use of neon signs in Hong Kong experienced a golden era from the 1950s through the 1980s, with entire building facades covered in glowing displays by the 1970s. However, due to strict regulations enforced by the Building Department since the early 2000s, neon light signs across the city now have to comply with specific requirements regarding size, contact with flammable materials, and the prevention of mechanical damage.
Moreover, all signs erected before 2010 were retrospectively declared illegal, and authorities are gradually enforcing removal orders. As a result, from around 120,000 sign boards in 2011, fewer than 500 neon light signs remain in the city today. Signs from iconic businesses such as Tai Tung Bakery in Yuen Long and Jumbo Kingdom in Aberdeen disappeared from the city in 2022. (In the case of Jumbo Kingdom, formerly one the largest floating restaurants in the world, the entire restaurant capsized and sank near the Paracel Islands.)
Amidst this ongoing change, however, the local community still feels that neon lights constitute an art form and piece of cultural heritage worth keeping alive.
Ki Chan Tea Company (祺棧茶行)’s neon sign in Johnston Road, Wan Chai, uses a large leaf motif and the Kaishu lettering style. Image by Sebastien Raybaud. Chun On Pawn Shop’s (振安大押) neon sign shines brightly, perhaps due to it having recently been repaired. Image by Sebastien Raybaud.
RADII caught up with artist Karen Chan Ka-lun (also known by her artist name Chankalun) and architects Kevin Mak King-wai and Ken Fung Tat-wai, founders of the conservation group Street Sign HK, to learn about the different ways they’re working to keep neon glowing in Hong Kong.
Chan blends her creative talents in neon art with expertise in exhibition and event design. Having studied Set Design for Stage and Screen at University of the Arts London, she also brings her experience creating props and sets for entertainment to the table.
Through her work, Chan aims to showcase the expressive potential of neon. “It’s not just a sign; it can convey complexity and new meanings,” she emphasizes. For instance, her installation Light As Air (2023), shown at Tai Kwun during Art Basel Hong Kong last year, inverted the expectations of viewers expecting to see the colorful graphics usually associated with neon. Instead, she used different shades of white to allow neon to become sculptural and interactive, harmonizing with the heritage building of Tai Kwun.
Inspired by French street artist Invader, Chan also infuses humor into her creations. This is evident in Hang In There, a commissioned piece she created for Vogue Singapore in 2022. For the installation, she explored the concept of “blue” not just as a color, but also as an emotion, using blue hangers to connect fashion and street culture.
While Chan is keeping neon alive by exploring its possibilities as a contemporary art medium, Mak and Fung are striving to preserve historical signs. Former colleagues at the international architectural firm OMA, the founders of Street Sign HK witnessed an alarming decline in neon signs starting in 2015, and in 2017 decided to make a difference by establishing their conservation group.
“At that time, I was doing urban photography to capture the changing streets, but within a month, many signs disappeared due to demolition orders,” Mak explains. This prompted them to create a platform to share the values behind these signs.
Dedicated to preserving neon lights, Street Sign HK occasionally shared information with Tetra Neon Exchange about sign demolitions and shop closures. Mak notes that initially their efforts were random, but they soon realized they had stumbled upon a unique approach: focusing on the ad hoc preservation of smaller, often overlooked neon pieces, highlighting the stories behind each sign.
Fung agrees, emphasizing the importance of considering the historical context of the signs they save, as well as building connections with the people behind them.
For instance, in 2020 they saved two neon signs from Kai Kee Mahjong Parlor (雞記麻雀娛樂) in Yau Ma Tei from being demolished, with assistance from Brian Kwok from Hong Kong Polytechnic University.
The duo preserved the mahjong parlor’s rooster emblem, connected with the business owner, and invited their extended family to appreciate the neon art at The Nate’s “Reconnect, Recreate” joint exhibition with art studio Callisupply in 2020. These personal relationships are central to their mission, ensuring that every restored sign tells a story and raises awareness about the craft and history behind Hong Kong’s neon culture.
The rooster and shop signage from Kai Kee Mahjong Parlor in Yau Ma Tei during their removal process. Images via Street Sign HK. The rooster neon sign turned on at “Night of Ideas 2022,” co-organized by Asia Society and the Consulate General of France in Hong Kong and Macau. Image via Street Sign HK.
Another way Street Sign HK keeps the art alive is through their use of a modular system for storage, shipping, and installation. Fung explains that traditional glass tubes are fragile and require careful handling for shipping. In contrast, the modular approach suspends the tubes within a protective frame, allowing for improved safety. This system uses plug and tape connectors, significantly reducing installation time and increasing design flexibility.
With this method, they can complete installations that previously took two weeks in two and a half days, greatly enhancing efficiency. These skills were honed during their exhibition as part of the deTour festival held at PMQ in 2023, showcasing their commitment to innovation in neon art. The conservation group will further explore these ideas at the Maison & Objet Fair in Paris in September 2024, highlighting their dedication to evolving this vibrant craft.
Coincidentally, artist Chan also has plans to take Hong Kong neon to Paris. She envisions establishing an atelier in Paris in the future where she can continue to explore experimental neon techniques. She plans to divide her time between Paris and her hometown, aiming to also establish a vibrant art space in Hong Kong where women and female-identifying individuals can experiment with neon art, providing them with the tools and environment to unleash their creativity.
In these spaces, Chan is especially eager to share her expertise in different glass bending techniques that she has picked up from master craftspeople around the world. By teaching these skills, she hopes to empower a new generation of artists, encouraging them to embrace the beauty and intricacies of neon. Ultimately, she aims to foster a supportive community that celebrates creative expression and keeps the rich legacy of neon art alive.
Old neon signs safely kept in Street Sign HK’s storage. They hope to sow seeds of appreciation, sustaining this cultural heritage that may someday proliferate the streets again. Images via Street Sign HK’s Instagram.
Both Chan and Street Sign HK face significant challenges in preserving neon art, yet have developed ways to adapt.
On the one hand, Chan, with her smaller hands, has learned to embrace her physical limitations by finding alternative methods to bend glass tubes. This adaptability reflects her understanding of the craft, particularly in using different types of glass. Demonstrating the depth of her knowledge, she comments that European borosilicate glass generally requires a higher temperature to bend, resulting in a more angular look; whereas the rest of the world uses neon tubes with phosphorus powder that allow for a quicker malleability and a softer finish in terms of design.
Meanwhile, for Street Sign HK, navigating regulations poses one of the biggest frustrations in their preservation efforts. As Fung notes, expecting a 40-year-old sign to comply with modern dimensional “one size fits all” requirements often leads to loss.
To combat this, they conduct thorough research to assess the cultural, aesthetic, and historical significance of each sign — seeking exemptions that allow them to remain in place at their original business locations. This approach underscores the importance of aesthetic education as Street Sign HK works to shift perceptions of neon as a craft, building appreciation for its beauty and cultural value.
Looking into the future, in a world where neon art risks fading into obscurity, Street Sign HK and Chan remind us of the urgent need for long-term solutions — rather than quick fixes — to preserve this unique craft. Despite the fact that creating neon art can be costly for industry professionals, it’s crucial to advocate for education and accessibility, ensuring that knowledge is shared within the community to keep this vibrant art form alive.
If the general public is educated about neon’s creative potential and its cultural significance, it’s possible that younger generations will be encouraged to spread the art itself, potentially promoting their own businesses through neon lights — either traditional lights or more modern and environmentally-friendly LED-powered creations that replicate the medium.
More importantly still, as Chan states, we need to foster a culture of knowledge and communication, where different community stakeholders share their skills and expertise related to neon lights, and there is open dialogue between policy makers and industry workers to ensure that this vibrant heritage continues to shine.
Street Sign HK’s co-founders Ken Fung Tat-wai (left) and Kevin Mak King-wai (right). Image via &ThenHK.
With many of the biggest names in Chinese underground and alternative music currently touring in support of releases from earlier in the summer, August offers a chance to immerse yourself in new sounds from underrated music scene veterans as well as fresh up-and-coming artists. Plus, there’s strong representation from Guangzhou and Kunming, cities which are often overshadowed by Beijing and Shanghai, but deliver in spades when it comes to DIY spirit — Editor.
City Flanker – A Long Tomorrow
Hangzhou’s City Flanker have been leisurely floating around the indie scene for over a decade, evolving and molding their dream pop sound into new shapes and expressions over the years — with everything from synth pop to city pop finding its way in. Their latest album, A Long Tomorrow, is perhaps their most atmospheric and sensual yet, leaning into a humid chillwave groove with ease and hazy allure. With retro-fitted yet lush production that makes great use of the band’s synths and stream-of-consciousness lyricism, it adheres closer to the work of Washed Out, Tame Impala, and Caribou, capturing the dreamy romanticism of a sun-bleached road trip where time ceases to exist.
Sweet Tie 碎叠 – There and Back Again 朝往暮归
Emerging instrumental rock outfit Sweet Tie craft a touching and thematic debut with There and Back Again. Looking to confer the changing seasons with a sense of wonder, resilience, and joy, the album — which touches on everything from math rock jams to ambient head trips — feels very much like a landscape painting come to life, rekindling memories of cherished locations and simply allowing us to lose ourselves in the beauty of the natural world. Its masterstroke, though, lies in the human element at the center of these vistas — a sincerity that only comes from wearing your emotions on your sleeves. It might sneak up on you.
The Asian Intelligence Kids 亞細亞報童 – 蓝心
T.A.I.K aka The Asian Intelligence Kids, from Qingdao, are a melodic punk band in the vein of East Asian greats such as The Blue Hearts, Stance Punks, and Cobra. Born from the homecoming of Qingdao boy turned Beijing punk stalwart Li Yang (aka Spike of Demerit fame), the band features Li on guitar and Chi Sang on vocals. Altogether it’s a tender, introspective, and more melancholic take on the genre, especially compared to the hard-edged street punk of Li’s band in the capital. Yet don’t let that steer you away: their album is one of the finest punk releases this year. a sincere, embracing, and evocative collection with tracks that manage to find strength and hope in the face of change and struggle, knowing damn well you can never go back.
Zaliva-D – 萬物枯萎 Total Withered
Fans of Zaliva-D’s signature atmospheric industrial tribal rave music will be happy to know that the Beijing act are in fine form on their latest release, Total Withered, released with WV Sorcerer Productions. The duo (made up of Li Chao and Aisin-Gioro Yuanjin, who produces the band’s visuals) has always leaned toward the darker end of the electronic music spectrum, garnishing their sound with pulse-pounding warehouse beats and distorted shamanistic chants. But their latest seems to be embracing their esoteric tendencies with a more playful vitality, stretching out its trance-inducing grooves to let every twist and turn be felt. In the words of their label, it could serve “as a soundtrack for your mental funeral.”
Zean – No Roots
A seminal figure in the underground electronic scene in Shanghai for years, producer Zean looks to give rhythmic life to the “culturally barren land” before him on his latest EP, No Roots, released on homegrown electronic label Gully Riddim. The release is a more somber and atmospheric take on the producer’s usual boisterous blend of neo grime, UK bass, and gqom. Zean tones down the energy and instead allows each track’s slower tempo to reveal layers upon layers of sound design thumping with intrigue and aural stimuli. Those tracks are further deconstructed courtesy of remixes from Argentinian producer Jaijiu and South African producer Jumping Back Slash.
PPT/C.H.O.U. – PPT/C.H.O.U.
PPT — fastcore power violence from the depths of Kunming’s underground rock scene — join forces with C.H.O.U. (aka Chaotic Humanity Observation Union), their Chinese brethren in Edinburgh, UK. The split release features leftover tracks from PPT’s debut album, Sad Boy Violence 2023, whose “take no prisoners” approach is primal in its blunt force. Meanwhile, C.H.O.U, who add a dash of crust punk and sludge into their chaotic blend, sound like something that may have come out of California in the mid-90s. Riotous stuff for those who like their music to come at them fast and furious.
xmo – Guide of self-immolation for youth in fire
Fresh-faced math rock fanatic xmo brings his breadth of knowledge and love for the genre to fruition on his rollicking debut Guide of self-immolation for youth in fire. In this immensely enjoyable, deft, and apt hybrid of various strains within instrumental rock’s more count-crazy cousin, xmo is the equivalent of Tarantino paying homage to his favorites, with the Qingdao artist not so much evoking masters of the genre as actively paying tribute to them within each track, from international legends like toe and Slint to domestic acts like Chinese Football and Little Wizard. There’s a barreling fluency at play here that can be both exhilarating and exhausting, with nary a chance to breathe in between each piece. Whatever the case, xmo is a name to keep your eyes out for in the future.
鼠鼠鼠 – the three mice
Shenzhen DIY imprint Small Animals continues their hot streak this year with their latest: the three mice, from 鼠鼠鼠 (shǔ shǔ shǔ, literally the characters for mouse written three times). The debut from the emerging Guangzhou indie outfit is as good as they come, a guitar-heavy kaleidoscope of lingering memories and adolescent angst capturing the afterglow of youth with rapturous vitality. There’s a psychedelic guitar rock veneer to the oftentimes tender indie sound, most notably on the moving, sax-laced slow burn “凌晨三点” (3 AM), an indie pop ballad that’s sweeping in its raw sentiment. Intimate and grand all at once, it’s one of the year’s best debuts.
Mdprl & Git Busy Trio – BA*
Mdprl & GitBu$y Trio, a Cantonese jazz hip hop group from Guangzhou, bring leisurely charm to their debut, BA*, released by Space Fruity Records. Buoyed by a breezy instrumental jazz tang that feels lived in, a loose hip hop swagger, and a nonchalant attitude that could only come from down south, Mdprl & GitBu$y Trio wisely avoid the exaggerated standoffish behavior of most hip hop acts, instead treating each track as a hangout session (or in some cases, a cooking manual). Let those Cantonese flavors sink in.
Run! Rabbit Run! – Hare Talk (Cover)
Repping Silver Cloud, a Kunming-based all-female collective of renegade artists and musicians who teeter gleefully on the edge between the electronic and rock scene, duo Run! Rabbit Run! (made up of A Guan and Xiao Hu) combines trip hop, drum and bass, and experimental club music to create brooding granular electronica that taps into the dark underbelly of society while reveling in mysticism, feminism, and the power of the moon. Their latest is Hare Talk(Cover), a delightfully anarchic collection of covers. Much of the fun is seeing how the duo “declare war” on each cover, painting each song in a completely new light, from contemporary hip hop artist Zeming Xu’s track “黑洞与飞梦” to The Stooges’ seminal “I Wanna Be Your Dog.” It’s also nice to hear classics from the black-and-white era getting some play too, from the Ink Spots’ “I Don’t Want To Set the World On Fire“ to Harry Roy’s double entendre-filled 1930s jazz ditty. Deviant good times abound.
8,000 RMB (around 1,100 USD) is more than the average monthly salary of a fresh graduate from one of China’s top universities, making it a sizable sum for many in the country, not least of all for a young person. So, when a few weeks ago the story spread of a Gen Z employee at an internet company in Beijing spending that precise amount of money to travel to the nearby city of Tangshan each weekend and learn how to make Zhizha (paper art for funerals), the curiosity of many netizens was piqued. And the budding artist isn’t alone — many of her peers are increasingly interested in the traditional craft.
Zhizha, sometimes referred to as “Taoist paper art,” plays a significant role in traditional Chinese funerals. These intricate paper creations, which range from miniature mansions and servants to paper money, are intended to ensure that the deceased have a comfortable and prosperous afterlife.
Despite their importance, funeral customs in China remain shrouded in mystery and superstition. Due to cultural and social shifts, many are reluctant to engage with or discuss these traditions openly. However, Gen Zers, lacking the baggage of their parents’ generation, seem more willing to learn about these once-sensitive topics and art forms.
For many, learning Zhizha is not merely about the craft: it represents a deeper connection to cultural heritage and a way to honor ancestral customs. One student shared, “Learning handcrafts on the weekends is so enjoyable. The satisfaction from mastering a repetitive skill is immense.”
Zhizha master craftsman Ma Liang teaches a class. Screenshot via Houlang.
Previously, Zhizha was facing a gradual decline, partially due to many parents’ reluctance to encourage their children to pursue such crafts. Yet, as appreciation for traditional culture grows, more young people are drawn to Zhizha, seeing it as a meaningful way to connect with and continue their cultural heritage.
By embracing Zhizha, discovering secrets like how to connect bamboo supports within a paper mansion, these young learners are not only reviving a historical art form but also contributing to the preservation of a vital aspect of Chinese culture. Their efforts are ensuring that this unique art form endures, adapting to contemporary values while honoring its rich history.
An ancient Chinese dance on the verge of disappearing may have gotten a serious boost from a viral video. Last week, content creator “Nanxiang Bu Ai Chifan” made waves with a video recording his experience learning the Tanhua dance (炭花舞, tànhuā wǔ) in Longhui, Hunan province. A Bilibili video blogger who has millions of followers, he spent more than a month in a remote village studying the local traditional dance, which was listed as part of China’s “Intangible Cultural Heritage” in 2009. In less than a week’s time, the video attracted more than 6.7 million views on Bilibili alone, and his story has spread across other social media platforms as well.
The Tanhua dance is an art form that demands perfect coordination and close communication, as it is performed by a duo. The dancers light up pine and chestnut bark as fuel, placed within two small cages woven from iron wire. These cages, connected by a rope, are tied to the ends of a long bamboo stick. By swinging the stick, the duo creates otherworldly sparks that almost look like something created by futuristic technology. In ancient times the Tanhua dance was a merely a method of illumination for nighttime hunts, but it was more widely adopted in the Tang Dynasty, and became part of local dragon dance traditions. The Tanhua dance has been continually practiced since then, but is now facing extinction due to a lack of interest from younger people in Longhui.
The Tanhua dance is one of many pieces of “Intangible Cultural Heritage” that are slowly disappearing in rural China. In this context, influencers and content creators are playing a key role in educating young people about these traditional cultural practices. Reflecting upon his experience, Nanxiang Bu Ai Chifan feels perplexed by the lack of interest in the dance. Nonetheless, he believes that something can be done. “If no one wants to come here and see the dance,” he said, “I will bring the dance to the world.”
Before Chinese Olympians had even boarded their return flights home from Paris, advertisements featuring their faces were already appearing everywhere in China, from malls, to bus stops, and inside elevators.
In fact, dairy producer Yili was so eager to celebrate its sponsored athletes that it flopped with a series of pre-made advertisements that turned out to be completely false, including one with the text “Congratulations to Sun Yingsha on Her Gold Medal Sweep,” when the table tennis player finished with silver, and another stating “Zheng Qinwen Wins Historic Silver” when the tennis star actually won gold.
An ad congratulating Sun Yingsha on a gold that never arrived. Image via Nan Feng Chuang.
Public embarrassments aside, the influx of advertisements points to the commercial value that Chinese Olympic athletes bring to these brands. Freestyle skier Eileen Gu’s breakout performance at the 2022 Winter Olympics set the bar for global and national commercial success amongst Chinese athletes. Gu garnered more than 20 brand deals immediately after winning her golds, and two years later, she is still seen in ads everywhere. In 2023, Forbes ranked her as the second highest earning female athlete of the year.
After this year’s Olympics, netizens speculated that Zheng Qinwen’s historic gold in tennis might even bring her commercial value ahead of Gu’s. Yet, Zheng only ranks second in terms of number of brand deals post-Paris: swimmer Zhang Yufei, who medaled in every single event she participated in, is currently sitting in first with ten brand deals.
So, how are Chinese athletes raking in cash from their Olympic runs? Or rather, how do brands sign the right athletes and find their golden ticket?
China’s official sponsor — Big dairy
China’s two dairy industry giants are taking home gold and silver for brand endorsements this Olympics. Their battle for brand recognition started well before the games themselves.
Mengniu secured a spot as the Worldwide Olympic Partner next to Coca-Cola. Prior to the opening ceremony, the dairy brand even produced a fight song for Team China.
Meanwhile, Yili is the official brand partner of Team China. Whereas Mengniu took an inspirational approach to its Olympic narrative, Yili closely followed every internet trend to capture eyeballs. The resemblance between the Olympic logo and Yili’s Olympic ambassador Lu Yu went viral, and Yili fully leaned into the attention.
Lu Yu look positively Olympic. Image via Yili.
Yili also signed the highest number of athletes out of any Chinese brand leading up to the Olympics. In fact, almost every Chinese Olympic gold winner is currently sponsored by the milk producer.
Aside from casting a wide net of sponsorships, Yili specifically targeted younger audiences and signed many Gen Z athletes. From the diver in googly-eyed fish slippers to the sport shooter with a cute clip in her hair, athletes born in the 2000s proved to dominate talking points in this year’s Olympic Games, suggesting that Yili made the right investment.
Another Yili favorite is the Chinese table tennis team. For a sport with a long history in China, serving as a source of national pride, it makes sense that table tennis would have the brand’s support, since the dairy industry has close ties with the Chinese government.
According to Jason Chung, practicing attorney and sports management professor at NYU, investments from the governmental or quasi-governmental sectors tend to favor athletes with a “national hero” narrative.
In Paris, China’s mixed double table tennis team, Wang Chuqin and Sun Yingsha, known to adoring netizens as the “Shatou Duo” (莎头组合, shā tóu zǔhé) won a redemptive gold after their disappointing loss in Tokyo three years ago. The duo carried the expectations of Chinese fans everywhere and delivered. Their victory is reflected by their predominance on Yili’s billboards.
The Shatou Duo on an Yili billboard. Image via Wangyi Xinwen.
Private sector
When it comes to selling products, Olympic athletes have become influencers themselves. On Xiaohongshu, netizens are searching for “identical styles” (同款, tóngkuǎn), looking to buy the same clothing and accessories worn by athletes.
Many Chinese fans simply want some Olympic luck to rub off on them. Table tennis gold medalist Chen Meng wore a circle-shaped necklace made of jade, gifted and designed by her father. Netizens speculated over the jewelry’s price and found similar versions in hopes of bringing good luck to themselves.
To capture the influx of internet attention around the Olympics, brands increased their deals with Chinese athletes by 22% in the past year, according to numbers from Endata. Athletes now rank as the third most likely group to be considered for brand deals in China, the first and second being actors and singers.
Among them, luxury brands are most likely to bring on Chinese athletes as brand ambassadors. For example, swimmer Zhang Yufei has a brand deal with the French multinational luxury fashion house Dior, and Eileen Gu is an ambassador for the luxury automobile manufacturer Porsche.
Brands in the commercial and service category come in second for endorsing Chinese athletes, which includes the Chinese milk tea brand, CHAGEE (霸王茶姬, bà wáng chá jī), who signed with a total of seven Chinese athletes for sponsorship deals this Olympics.
After Zheng Qinwen captured her historic gold in tennis, many netizens began comparing her to Eileen Gu, who currently stands as the pinnacle of commercial success for Chinese athletes.
On Bilibili, fashion influencer duo Ahalolo speculated that Zheng would likely exceed Gu in commercial value. For one, tennis is the most profitable women’s sport as it has a large upper-middle class audience, compared to the more limited scope of freestyle skiing.
Chung, the sports management professor, cautions against making sweeping generalizations as the marketability of athletes is very individualized.
“At the end of the day, marketing is as much art as it’s science,” Chung said, then paused. “There’s [sometimes] not much science associated.”
“Superficial gifts” play an outsized role in how marketable an athlete is, and according to Chung, sometimes are even more important than winning itself.
“You do want to win at a certain point to maximize your value. At the same time, could you be very, very good, and could you be marketable? Absolutely,” said Chung. “There’s a lot of people over the course of history, especially in the West, who may not be as successful from a sporting performance angle, but they were popular because they were attractive or have other qualities.”
Zheng’s appearance as a sporty, healthy athlete has attracted attention from netizens and fashion magazines alike. Not only was she seated next to Vogue’s editor-in-chief Anna Wintour at the Balenciaga couture show at Paris Fashion Week this year, but she has also appeared on multiple magazine covers.
Screenshot
In China, where aesthetics favor skinny and pale, Zheng’s tall, tan, and muscular physique has been a welcoming change for netizens. In fact, her ad for Yili caused a stir as she was edited to look visibly paler. Many netizens complained, coming out against China’s presumed beauty standards.
A compelling story also contributes to how marketable an athlete is, according to Chung. In table tennis, netizens poured attention poured onto the Shatou Duo, imagining the pair as a couple (“shipping” in fandom speak) and swooning over their every interaction.
In women’s table tennis singles, Shatou Duo member Sun Yingsha was slated to win, but fellow Chinese player Chen Meng ended up beating her and winning gold. As all the attention was fixated on Sun Yingsha and the Shatou Duo, Chen missed out on a marketable moment and only received two sponsorships from her successful Olympic run.
So far, Zheng, who comes from a small town in Hubei, presents a narrative that stands in contrast to Gu’s American upbringing. Her interviews detailing her pride for winning as a Chinese athlete, thanking her father for his sacrifices in support of her career, and expressing unabashed patriotism have won praise from Chinese fans online.
While marketing may be an elusive art form, one thing has become clear: Chinese athletes are emerging as a valuable commercial asset for brands both nationally and internationally.
