In a dusty factory town in southern China, a man has spent the last ten years of his life waking up to the same alarm. He’s worked various hard factory jobs, and other odd jobs along the coast. His whole life he’s lived by the idea that hard work can change everything, that he should save each coin he earns, that through a 996 schedule (9am to 9pm 6 days a week) he can make his way to the top. But one day he decides to quit, and he rides his bicycle across China for months, living off of little money, but realizing he doesn’t need much, just enough eat and breathe and think freely.

This man returns home one day and decides to write a post online about it. He wants to stop measuring his worth by how much he can produce, and he refuses to be consumed by the endless competition in life.

“I can sleep in my room, I can eat simple food, I can do nothing. Lying flat is my wise man’s movement.”

The post was quickly deleted. You’d have a very difficult time trying to find a screenshot of it if you tried. Yet the man, Luo Huazhong, had helped spark a new way of thinking. It wasn’t a crazy public act or demonstration, just a quiet post from an unknown netizen.

It’s very much engrained in Chinese culture the idea that hard work creates success, and in particular in modern times, that hard work with academics will lead to success. You can see similar philosophies across the world and Asia, but the economic/political environment in China is unique and creates some friction with this.

In many ways, China’s economy is changing; social mobility is on the decline, income inequality is higher than ever, and the cost of living is going up. For younger people, pursuing college degrees and office jobs, the amount of available opportunities is far out-numbered by the vast number of people who have all been taught that this is the path to success. People who have spent years earning their degrees are being forced to return to their small hometowns without work, or to take on a manual labor job with a wasted degree.

These are just official statistics from the government, whose known to obfuscate numbers. The political climate is also the reason why you probably won’t find any public posts mentioning the term “躺平” (tǎng píng), as they are frequently scrubbed. But the economic reality for many Chinese people has meant that despite that, the term and way of thinking has become wildly popular. These days, excessive internet censorship from the government can often backfire, and people come up with new terms, or code references to ideas through images (high-tech example depicted to left).

To “躺平”, or “lie flat”, doesn’t mean to just give up. It’s about finding peace/value in small things. It’s about choosing your own path. It’s about not letting the system define your worth. It’s different from various other related phrases, like “摆烂” (let it rot), which is a more jaded and extreme attitude. “躺平” is a versatile term; it’s used in the context of workplace burnout, academic overload, job-searching frustration, and even against pressure from family/society to get married. For many, it’s a call to resist the status quo, and to seek our own forms of peace. For others it’s just a lighthearted word to use when things go wrong: “I think I’ve tried enough, might as well go lie flat.” It can even refer to relaxing or taking it easy in general; this cat bed advertisement tries to capitalize on positive associations with “lying flat”.

The core idea behind the term isn’t new though, in fact it might feel quite familiar from our class. An idea from Daoism, “无为” (wú wéi), closely mirrors the concept of “躺平”. Just like how Luo Huazhong said lying flat is wise, Laozi said it is wise to “Practice not-doing”. Wú wéi is about not forcing things, letting go of focused effort; the biggest difference between the two terms is just the more memeable and casual feel of “lie flat”. Similar circumstances in their respective time periods led them to come to similar conclusions. Perhaps Luo Huazhong was acquainted with Daoist ideas when he chose to quit his job, but that isn’t the case for every person practicing “躺平” today. It reminds me of dynastic cycles, with modern China and Laozi’s China undergoing similar transformations, and how an excess of one thing (achievement culture) creates a push in the opposite direction.

This balance of ideals is also seen in Yin vs Yang. Daoism as a whole is about finding balance, and Yin, representing yielding, passivity, letting things go, among other things, is required to balance out Yang. Lying flat in China today could be said to be balancing out the often monolithic culture of achievement that’s rooted in Confucian ideals. Yet the phrase is more than just a desire for a lifestyle; it’s a political message of young people rejecting their government’s attempts to shape their way of thinking. Maybe the Mandate of Heaven will run its course.

By: Eshaan Patel

Background:

Qianlong Emperor

In Chinese history, “帝”, pronounce “dì” meant something beetween Emporer and Imperial. The word “帝” was associated with terms like “emperor”, “supreme ruler”, and “god”. This word, however, is one that has changed over time throughout China’s 3,500 year written history. Furthermore, the meaning of this word also drastically differs when used in different contexts.

Ancient Human Sacrifice

Dì “帝” first appeared in oracle bone inscriptions during the Shang Dynasty. It’s a pictographic character combining li “立” which means “to stand” and jin “巾” which means to “cloth”. This represents the image of setting up firewood for imperial ancestral sacrifice.

The X帝 (X dì) Structure:

Starting in the 1980s with the Hong Kong Film Awards creating the term yingdi “影帝”, which means “cinema emperor”, for Best Actor winners, the phrase structure “X di” emerged in popular culture. This transformed di’s meaning to refer to people, objects, or organizations that are remarkable or extraordinary in a given field.

Examples of this structure include:

• Yuyandi (预言帝) – “prediction emperor” for those who make accurate predictions
• Zhenxiangdi (真相帝) – “truth emperor” for people knowledgeable
• Offer di – someone who receives many job offers
• Daodedi (道德帝) – “moral emperor” for self-righteous people
  

Genshin Impact

In gaming and entertainment, there are various of dì such as in Imperial harem-building games, Empire-building games like Total War: Three Kingdoms, and Character names in games like Genshin Impact.

The 1980s Transformation: Yingdi and the Birth of X帝

A pivotal shift in di’s usage occurred in the 1980s following the establishment of the Hong Kong Film Awards. The phrase yingdi (影帝), which is “emperor of cinema,” emerged to describe actors winning the Hong Kong Film Award for Best Actor. Notable recipients include Tony Leung Chiu Wai, who’s has won multiple best actor awards. This usage honored these actors with di (帝) to demonstrate the scale of their achievement; this also recognized them as representing the highest level of acting in Chinese cinematography. The combination of di (帝) with ying (影) popularized the phrase structure x di (X帝), fundamentally transformed di’s traditional meaning in popular culture.

Within this structure, di no longer exclusively means “emperor” but instead expands to encompass: a person, object, or organization achieving the highest honor in a given field. A leading figure with outstanding features or expertise in a certain field; and an object with a distinguishing feature. The simplicity and flexibility of the x di structure enabled the creation of countless new words used in pop culture and everyday life of all aspects.

Social and Political Implications

The character di (帝) carries significant social and political implications in contemporary China across multiple domains all the way from politics to entertainment to everything in between. The DiBa Expedition (帝吧), an online movement originating from Baidu forums, organized coordinated attacks on social media platforms, engaging in nationalistic campaigns targeting Taiwan, Sweden, and Hong Kong issues. In commercial contexts, foreign companies entering Chinese markets often strategically incorporate di in brand names to convey luxury, grandeur, and higher quality to consumers – symbolizing how di can still be close associated and directly correlated to wealth, status, and upper class. However, the character remains subject to naming taboos, as it is rarely used in children’s names due to historical fears of appearing to challenge imperial authority or being seen as counterrevolutionary. Within academic discourse, scholars employ “imperial” terminology to describe how modern CCP governance practices draw from China’s imperial history, particularly under Xi Jinping’s leadership, which employs imperial-style rituals, hierarchies, and propaganda methods. Lastly, in the cast of the one-child policy and the discourse surrounding it, despite widespread media portrayals of “little emperors” (xiaohuangdi) as spoiled and socially deficient, academics have found that little empirical evidence supporting these stereotypes. This suggests that economic inequality plays a larger role than family structure in shaping child outcomes.

Broader Implications

Di (帝), a character with over three millennia of history, exemplifies the dynamic nature of language and cultural evolution. While maintaining connections to its historical meanings of emperor, supreme ruler, and god, it has successfully adapted to contemporary contexts, particularly in digital culture, entertainment, branding, and political discourse.

The versatility of the x di (X帝) structure in internet culture demonstrates Chinese language speakers’ creativity in adapting traditional characters to modern contexts while maintaining semantic connections to imperial power and superiority. Whether used complimentarily, pejoratively, or sarcastically, di continues to invoke notions of supremacy, dominance, and exceptionality.

Introduction:

There’s times I catch myself comparing how much I studied last night or how much work I did, and sometimes I feel guilty when I relax while others kept working. It’s that quiet, persistent sense that no matter what I do, when I compare myself to others there’ll always be someone putting in more effort and working harder. And even when there is no one else for some reason if feels like there should be. These thoughts aren’t neccesarily unique to me, they’re part of an overall pressure that defines our modern life. The Chinese have a slang word for this exact feeling, “内卷” or “Involution”. It describes the cycle of working harder and harder, yet never really moving forward like running on a societal treadmill that keeps speeding up but you still end up in the same place. I chose to explore this word because it encapsulates a lot of the emotions like anxiety, ambition, and fatigue that I and so many students and workers experience every day.

Origins and Evolution:

Before it became one of China’s most famous buzzwords, the concept of involution first appeared in the 1960’s when an American Antropolgist Clifford Geertz used it describe how Javanese farmers were working harder and harder on the same plots of land but producing no real growth, basically an endless cycle of effort without progress. Decades later, Chinese scholars adopted this word to describe similar social patterns of people investing more time and energy but seeing diminishing returns. Fast forward to our modern digital age 内卷 took on a whole new life online. Around 2020, Chinese students and young professionals started using the term on Weibo and Zhihu (chinese social media apps) to describe their own lives like staying up until 3 a.m. to study for an exam, competing for internships, or joining a hundred different WeChat groups just to stay ahead. What started as an academic joke ended up defining a generation caught between ambition and exhaustion. So in our modern day, 内卷 isn’t about farming anymore. It reflects how young Chinese navigate a society that praises hard work yet very rarely slows down to ask if it’s all really worth it. From viral memes showing students sleeping on their desks to workplace jokes about “卷王” (the “King of Involution”), the word evolved into both a coping mechanism and sort of a implicit protest to joke and acknowledge the system that places so much pressure on it’s people.

This graphic is commonly used to show involution and workers burnt out and exhausted over the constant grind of working in Chinese culture.

Usage:

The word is often used when students compare how late they studied or when office workers share pictures of sleeping at their desks. The word captures that collective exhaustion from constant competition, where everyone feels pressured to do more even when there’s little to gain.

Netizens use 内卷 in both serious and humorous ways. Saying “太卷了” (“It’s too involuted”) can express frustration and irony. The term has also branched out to phrases like 卷王 (“Involution King”), describing those who push themselves the hardest.Regardless of how it is used though it has become a single word to describe the burnout being faced by students and workers in chinese culture.

Cultural Analysis:

At its core, 内卷 reflects two forces that have long shaped Chinese life, Confucian diligence and Daoist balance. From Confucianism comes the belief that hard work and self improvement are moral obligations. For centuries, this value defined education and family life as effort showed virtue and success was proof of your character and value. Today, that mindset still drives people to push themselves endlessly turning the discipline and diligence into exhaustion.

On the other hand, Daoism offers an escape from this. Its philosophy of wui wei encourages people to step back and live in harmony with the world instead of fighting against it. The growing appeal of another term 躺平 (“lying flat”) shows a return to that thinking, where peace is found not in striving but by letting go and being content.

In this way, 内卷 and 躺平 represent two sides of the same culture, one rooted in ambition, and the other in acceptance. Together they sort of capture the Chinese struggle to balance ancient ideals with the reality of burning out and the ill effects that causes.

A good example of this is the 996 work culture shown in this video is the real world face of 内卷. It captures how long hours and relentless competition have become normalized in modern China, turning Confucian diligence into exhaustion. It helps show the meaning of involution, how people work so hard – hours from 9.am. – 9 p.m. 6 days a week yet never truly progress anywhere and end up burnt out and exhausted rather than at rest and satisfied.

Reflection:

When I think about 内卷, I don’t just see it as an online thing or restricted to Chinese culture. I see it in myself and the people around me. Especially that fear of falling behind in school, internships, and overall just growth as a person. Writing this made me realize that 内卷 isn’t just about competition, it’s about searching for purpose and what brings you peace in a world that never slows down. And the challenge isn’t to escape it completely, but to find a balance of working hard while being content and retaining peace.

Sources:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8wWoQ3_F00

https://www.reuters.com/business/autos-transportation/what-is-involution-chinas-race-to-the-bottom-competition-trend-2025-09-14

https://carnegieendowment.org/posts/2025/08/whats-new-about-involution?lang=en

The term 摆烂 (bǎi làn) is one that captures a literal etymological representation of chinese youth. Breaking down the hanzi, “摆” (bǎi) means to deliberately place/lay/arrange, and “烂” (làn) refers to mushy, rotten, or decayed. Putting it together gives the meaning of 摆烂 (bǎi làn) as “let it rot” or “to display rottenness.” 

The first recorded use of bǎi làn came from Chinese NBA fans as their own version of slang for the English word “tanking” to describe NBA teams purposely losing and performing poorly in hopes to gain better odds of securing top player picks. 

https://www.douyin.com/video/7368463371538042166 (above is a preview of the douyin post)

Here is a post of a netizen on Douyin making fun of how one NBA team, Detroit Pistons, had continuous poor performances, being one of the worst NBA teams, and despite many years of securing top picks in the draft are still performing terribly, and as such are continuously “tanking” and are the best when it comes to it.

Origins of ‘Bai Lan’

However the use of the modern, non-niche, usage of the word actually arises as a more extreme/severe evolution of another chinese slang, 躺平 (tang ping) which translates to “lying flat.” The tang ping movement can be seen as the predecessor to the modern bǎi làn, since this first movement was seen as a first grassroots passive-aggressive movement in the youth of their grievances against the Chinese government and societal expectations like the overworking, and overachieving in 996 working hour system that was considered an endless “rat race”.

https://chi.st/bugs/tang-ping (some excerpts from the recovered blog)

Here is a preservation of the original blog, “Lying flat is justice” that sparked the initial tang ping movement that was deleted by the Cyberspace Administration of China (CAC). The blog, by Luo Huazhong, who said he has come to terms with him not living up to society’s expectations and wanting to live his life the way he wanted to. So he quit his factory job, biked miles from Sichuan Province to Tibet and decided he could get by on odd jobs and $60 a month from his savings, calling his lifestyle 躺平 (tang ping). Lou’s blog served as a message to other Chinese youth on how they have the agency just like him to reject the rate race, intense work culture of the 996 system, and societal expectations, saying “the moment when a life full of desire and excitement becomes still and disappears is the embodiment of true justice. I choose to lie flat, and I am no longer afraid.” This blog went viral before it was deleted and sparked all manner of memes by netizens, which glorified/encouraged the tang ping lifestyle, expressing their desires to simply go and “lie flat” instead of engaging in the constant rat race.

These memes led to the emergence of the catchphrase, 躺平的韭菜不好割 (Tǎng píng de jiǔcài bù hǎo gē), which translates to “a chive lying flat is difficult to reap”; this is a humorous take of the “chinese dream” portrayed by state media which netizens believe is a false promise of a better life for the price of endless hard work with no actual internal satisfaction. This movement is very similar to a similar movement in the US, called “quiet quitting” which advocated for doing the absolute bare minimum at one’s jobs and simply getting the money and then leaving. This sense of apathy and doing the absolute bare minimum, and “lying flat” to the rat race is echoed perfectly in Tang Ping. 

Evolution to ‘Bai Lan’

However the change from ‘tang ping’ to ‘bai lan’ is the result of a more extreme version of the same movement.

This became particularly apparent during China’s recovery period post COVID during from 2021 to 2022 where China’s frequent lockdowns led to a very sluggish economic recovery, exacerbating youth unemployment and making basic necessities like education, healthcare, and housing unaffordable for increasingly unaffordable for young people. 

In the eyes of the youth netizens, their conditions and outlook had only gotten worse and ‘tang ping’ couldn’t save them anymore. Now the message evolved from originally being apathetic and indifferent to societal and cultural expectations. The message instead became a willing rejection of the degrading quality of life for youth given the government’s inability to fix the high youth unemployment, cost of living, and extreme pressure from constant competition, giving birth to ‘bai lan.’ Additionally, it also serves as a coping mechanism from the youth since many realize that their current conditions suck, so they are living life embracing the ‘rot,’ not caring what others may think since they feel as if nothing could be worse than right now, actively reflecting cynicism. ‘Bai Lan’ had now become the perfect unfiltered symbolism of the outlook and condition of the youth, true ‘rot’.

Videos promoting the ‘bai lan’ lifestyle are subject to heavy censorship on social media platforms, as a result, videos of individuals actively promoting the lifestyle rarely make it past the strict censorship by the CAC. As a result, netizens resort to spreading it via memes featuring drawings with a caption, which tend to be harder for the censorship algorithms to detect.

https://www.douyin.com/note/7331525838585744679 (above is a preview of the douyin post)

This post by a netizen was captioned 最近状态躺平摆烂,混吃混喝,只想做个快乐的小废物, translating to “Let it rot. Lately I’ve just been lying flat and letting things rot, mindlessly indulging eating and drinking. I only want to be a happy little good-for-nothing.” Posts like these reflect the true inner reflection and vulnerability of bai lan movement as it goes beyond the previous tang ping where it was largely apathy, and now serves as public projection and revealing of the real inner feelings of cynicism and vulnerability of Chinese youth that they feel can only be shared through the anonymity that social media offers.

Why?

The emergence of Bai Lan from Tang Ping actively acknowledges the dreadfulness of the lives of the Chinese youth and attempts to play off the ‘rot’ in a sarcastic and self-deprecating manner with a sense of cynicism, and memes serve as the perfect medium for netizens to spread their message on social media. Its evolution from an earlier movement serves as a key indicator of slang in social media, especially China, that functions as both a cultural mirror and a coping mechanism, reflecting youth disillusionment through a unique gen-z way of humor and self-aware irony.

An Introduction:

While the assignment was to tackle an internet keyword or slang that is contemporary in its usage, I felt the necessity to discuss and talk about one that has been slang and a key phrase for the longest time, and still is by definition an internet keyword, with endless reddit and Facebook posts on the debate of this phrase.  “老外” or “Lao Wai” is a phrase/name given to non-Chinese natives or foreigners to China. If you’re Chinese or grew up around the language, then you’ll know how frequently it’s used and how much it blurs the line between slang and proper, and the line between offensive and innocent. As a 12-year-old walking with my family in NYC, and my parents would whisper “Laowai”, I always questioned the validity and niceties of that word. However, if you aren’t familiar with this word, hopefully this becomes a good and provocative introduction to the phrase.

This video, one of the first ones to appear when searching for “老外” as a term, explains some common scenarios of being called a “Lao Wai” in China, with a sequel of the video discussing the regional variations such as “Gwai Lou” as a word for westerners or “Lao Hei” for individuals of African descent.  The video, however, starts an interesting thought process. How are some individuals not offended by these terms and take it as a kind greeting to start an interaction, while others find it as a hateful piece of slang that reduces individuals to their separation from Mainlanders.

Two sides of a phrase:

This leads me to how I want to cover two sides of the phrase “Lao Wai” and how it sits in the middle between offensive and innocent as a vocabulary term. On one side, you have those in Mainland China, who have used the term very frequently for all their lives, and would argue that there is nothing controversial, offensive, or bad meaning in any sense. Not only that, but there are also many foreigners who understand that this is not bad meaning in any sense and understand that this is just a word within the culture that people use to refer as a blanket statement to all foreigners, not something negative.

Facebook and other forums are a great way of understanding real people and their individual opinions. Following off this person, it makes a lot of sense that Chinese people won’t be able to distinguish between a German and a Dutch person, or a lot of western ethnicities. While using a very different comparison, westerners also make blanket labels of easterners, such as Asian, even though that encompasses a large range of actual ethnicities.

The other side:

On the other side, some westerners would find that “Lao Wai” feels like a rude and derogatory statement. If you’re a foreign person visiting China, it’s not likely that you want to be boiled down to a one-word catchphrase, purely representing your non-Chinese background. This is made worse by how some people can use “Lao Wai as more of an insult-slang term than others. Even while not warranted at all, the use of “Lao Wai” as derogatory and in a negative connotation reinforces already heightened tensions between Chinese and Foreigners. Because of this confusion between “Lao Wai” being a good or bad force, often results to westerners defaulting to it being a negative phrase.

Reddit being the choice of community-based discussions for this section.

Fast Forward:

However, I want to turn the page to something related, but pointing towards a more positive direction. China and Chinese people, in my own opinion, are more used to being less of a melting pot than other countries. While Asians in the US constitute 7.4 percent of the population (US Census 2022), Westerners with residence permits only constitute 0.05% of the Chinese population (Global Times). As such, it’s a very different approach and understanding to foreigners than how we see immigrants in the US, typically in a more blanketed way as “Lao Wai”

(No need to watch the whole thing at all.)

However, times have and currently are changing. The following video is one of the largest examples of a cultural movement in recent years. 94 million views is not a small feat, with a meaningful percent of Chinese, Chinese American, and American people having seen this video. The video itself shows Xiaoma, a non-Chinese individual shocking everyone in restaurants by ordering in perfect Chinese. Countless other videos or blog posts like this have come up since then. It shows how the typical image of a clueless foreigner is being rewired in people’s head as someone who can be accepted and isn’t just a “Lao Wai”

So how does this change? Or does it? In my experience, this specific phrase has a major disconnect between the people that use the phrase and the people that get referenced by that phrase. This disconnect gets closer and closer to a resolution the more people talk about it together, with friends or community, understanding the cultural differences and adapting to them ultimately helps everyone be more understanding.

-Ryan Yin

Sources:

https://www.census.gov/newsroom/facts-for-features/2024/asian-american-pacific-islander.html

https://www.globaltimes.cn/page/202401/1305667.shtml

The original meaning of abstract is often referring to philosophy or artistic concept. In philosophy aspect, abstraction means the process of generalizing rules and concepts from specific examples. In artistic aspect, abstract represents an art style that composite shape, form, color and line to create a form of visual references. Nevertheless, I my opinion, abstract in Chinese means something that is highly-conceptualize, esoteric, and meaningless in day-to-day life. However, when the word “abstract” is introduced to Chinese internet the meaning of it changed dramatically.

Before talking about what is “abstract” means, lets talks about the origin of “abstract” in Chinese internet. When and how does “abstract” in become so popular in China? many people argue that abstract start from nowhere. However, the online popularity of “abstract” is origin from “abstract studio”(抽象工作室), founded by Li Gan. Li Gan is one of the most famous streamers in early-stage Chinese internet. Firstly, the streaming content is just merely playing video games. However, Li Gan found that these dull contents cannot capture the attention of audiences. He switched his streaming style into talking style, for example watching others’ streaming, talking with chatroom. Soon, the interesting accent of Li Gan and other streamers in “abstract studio” leads to many audiences imitate their ways of talking. That is the origin of “abstract”. The audiences called these ways of talking and expression as “abstract speech”. Nevertheless, audiences of “abstract studio” started to spread hatred and vulgar speech in the community. They poured in other streamers’ chat and spread tons of irrelevant and hatred comments. Due to the censorship, Li Gan have soon been banned from the Chinese streaming platform. In the first stage, “abstract” represents the specific ways of talking, and “abstract” also express many hatreds, negative , and vulgar atmosphere.

After “abstract studio” was banned, meaning of “abstract” have changed drastically. After “Abstract Studio” was banned, the meaning of “abstract” changed drastically. Without the direct influence of Li Gan and his group, the word began to evolve in broader online communities. Internet users started to use “abstract” not only to imitate Li Gan’s speech patterns but also to describe any content that felt bizarre, illogical, or absurdly funny. The negative and aggressive tone of the early “abstract” gradually faded away, and the word transformed into a cultural symbol of absurdist humor. It became a way for people to express sarcasm, irony, and self-mockery in an exaggerated or irrational manner. Also, as a result of reducing its aggressive tone, “abstract” became a popular Chinese internet keyword that is accepted and collected by the official.

“Doing abstract stuff”(搞抽象) have been collected in Chinese language report in 2024. Abstract refers to a style of expression that disobey the social norms and convention, focusing on characterize expression. People who are “abstract” often tends to express their emotions through absurd, sardonicism, non-linear ways.

The popularity of “abstract” on Chinese internet is definitely not an accident. It reflects the emotions, generation confusion, self-identity, and cultural environment of the younger generations.

Firstly, “abstract” fulfill the needs of younger generation’s desire to rebel the social norms and seriousness. In the modern Chinese society, younger generations often face uncountable pressure from multiple aspects, like society and family. And the rise of “abstract” offers them a creative way to deconstruct authority and challenge the social expectation by expressing absurdity. By deconstruct the original meaning, the creator of “abstract” content contains a sense of humor which are used to express their emotions that unable to express in the normal time.

In addition to helping younger generation resisting the competitive social atmosphere, “abstract” also fit perfectly with today’s mainstream Chinese internet media form—short videos. On the platform like Bili Bili, Douyin (Chinese TikTok), Red Notes, and etc. All of these users of these platform consume an astonishing amount of short vides. However, explaining or creating something that have real contents in probably 30 seconds to 1 minutes is nearly unrealistic. Therefore, by the unstoppable trend of short video in Chinese internet, “abstract” contents are largely created and published in Chinese social media since in the most of time “abstract” contents are presented in a short and dramatic style, for example, “abstract” video often only last within 1 minute.

In conclusion, the rise of “abstract” in the Chinese internet represent not only a linguistic evolution, it also demonstrate the chinese younger generation’s spirits, where they would pursue humor and challenging authority through meaningless and absurdity.

In my time at Georgia Tech, I’ve participated in a wide variety of clubs. From rock music to origami, archery to anime, and video games to political activism, one of the most impactful clubs I’ve participated in is the Chinese Conversation Hour club, a part of the Chinese Student Association here at GT. The Convos club meets weekly, for around an hour, and typically comprises some short lecture about whatever aspect of Chinese culture the presenter wanted to talk about, followed by ~30 minutes of Chinese conversation practice, hence the name. After attending semi-regularly for around 2 years (and frankly not improving my Chinese enough in that time…), I’ve somehow been nominated for the position of club president. This is a small club and so the role doesn’t entail very much, but it’s still been a lot of fun being able to run the events and grow the club in, not entirety, but at least in the direction I wanted to see the club go in. We’ve been able to bring in many talented tutors in and develop a sense of community amongst the regulars.

I’ve had some really memorable Convos sessions, but by and large, the ones on slang tend to be my favorite. Don’t get me wrong, learning about Chinese food and historical culture has been interesting and a lot of fun (especially when snacks are involved!), but something about slang really gives you that sense of connection to the culture, wherein, if you can’t hold a conversation like a native, you can at least reference slang like a native!

The first one I’d heard, even before Chinese Convos, was 6 (六) as a reference to the hand sign for the number 🤙, referencing the modern surfer sign for ‘cool’. While the Chinese hand signs have a long and murky history, the modern meaning is, undoubtedly, modern, with many people responding to things with ‘666’ as shorthand for ‘cool’.

This example is, for many, common and easily memorable, which is just the right combination for slang to take off!

Which brings us back to the Convos sessions! Another term that stuck in my head the moment I heard it at the sessions is ‘3Q’, as a substitute for ‘thank you’, making use of the Chinese pronunciation for 3 (san1). I believe this term, along with many others, has its origins in Taiwan, but it finds use all over the internet now. Another counterpart to ‘3Q’ is ‘no Q’, for ‘no thank you’, playing along with the established pattern.

Another term that I first encountered at Convos: 懂的都懂 or dddd. This translates to “I understand everything“, or to its English equivalent, “say less”. It seems to have come from a TV program and a misunderstanding between a host and a fan, but has since come to be widely used online, representing a strong agreement, where more doesn’t need to be said. It’s also fun to type! dddd

Throughout all the internet slang I’ve seen, the most prominent feature seems to be its parallels to western slang, along with slang throughout the world: as an expression of youth culture, of individual and shared experiences, appreciating and highlighting the absurdities of daily life, no matter who or where they are.