Only on Bilibili can you still see this kind of anime...

Author / Huiye

Edited by < The Reliable Editorial Desk >

As the summer season draws to a close, this summer's domestic animation scene has been especially lively.

On the big screen, there's been the polarized discussion around the domestic animated films The Eight Immortals! and Niu Lai, with buzz driving box office growth. In streaming animation, the four platforms — Bilibili, Youku, iQIYI, and Tencent Video — are pitting their long-running series against one another, while high-quality seasonal series each have their own strengths. On short-video platforms, AI manga dramas and AI animation are being churned out at high speed by everyone from professional teams to enthusiastic netizens, with content iterating rapidly and memes constantly going viral.

Beyond the big 3D xianxia cultivation animation that remains the market mainstream, a few works have given audiences a rather different viewing experience, prompting the realization that "so domestic animation can be done this way too" — such as the original domestic 2D animation The Memory Administration Bureau, which premiered on Bilibili on August 2.

Its highest per-episode IMDb rating is 9.6, its Bilibili rating is 9.8, and viewers have called it "absolutely killer!", "lived up to expectations", and "my favorite anime of the year, bar none." After episode six dropped, the payoff of countless foreshadowed plot points sparked long-form analyses and recommendations across social media platforms — not only was "this episode god-tier," but looking back, the first five episodes were practically a "god-tier episode wholesale."

In a domestic animation market where technology and artistry keep leveling up and 3D xuanhuan and fantasy works dazzle the eye, how can an original 2D animation maintain its own character and keep going? The Memory Administration Bureau, which at first glance looks quite different from mainstream series, offers one possible answer.

A distinctive visual style is what made The Memory Administration Bureau stand out to audiences from the very start. Adapted from the award-winning independent animated short of the same name from Bilibili's 2020 Little Universe New Star Program, the series carries on the short's surrealist aesthetic while adding richer, freer visual presentation. The series is helmed creatively by the short's directors, Li Shuyu and Duanpian Heixian.

In this animation, audiences can see visuals in all kinds of styles: retro Japanese-style flat cel shading, independent-animation levels of hyper-saturated color, stream-of-consciousness montages with real photographic texture, pixel-art sprites from arcade games, halftone-printed retro pop art, minimalist color blocks and silhouettes — you can even watch characters moving through the panels of black-and-white comics. This rich use of visuals and color breaks animation's real-world proportions and physical logic, rendering ever-shifting moods and a strong sense of narrative.

Switching between different aspect ratios hints at the different timelines the plot unfolds across, while also deepening the exploration and expression of the characters' inner worlds. The 4:3 ratio used for flashbacks comes with a retro, nostalgic feel; the 2.35:1 cinematic ratio of the main storyline tells the story of what happens in the memory layers; the full-screen 16:9 establishes the setting, giving viewers a stronger sense of immersion and space; and split screens top and bottom represent two characters parting ways. The intermittently appearing small, unconventional frames — squares, elevators, film rolls, Polaroids — use their limited information to create stronger viewer engagement and give the narrative of different scenes a heightened sense of layering.

The free use of points, lines, planes, and elements of different shapes is on full display in this work, delivering one silky-smooth "million-dollar transition" after another. Through highly similar shapes, movement trajectories, and compositional structures, the animation achieves seamless transitions, reinforcing visual continuity while using these motifs to plant deep metaphors for the story's unfolding. In episode one, when protagonist Guan Chao enters the world of the Memory Administration Bureau, lines thread together flashback memory objects, foreshadowing what's to come; in episode six, a circular halo strikes the villain, then turns into a round game token inserted into a machine, and finally the coin falls into the protagonist's palm, hinting that the player is logging into the game.

With skilled storyboarding layered over superb imagination, the "action scenes" that animation fans always pay attention to are, of course, no problem at all. The action scenes in The Memory Administration Bureau are silky and fluidly directed, with the camera focusing on the characters' center of gravity; rapid camera switches give the characters' movements a sense of logic, widen the frame's depth, and make the impact feel exceptionally weighty.

Notably, despite all its flashy technique, The Memory Administration Bureau's visuals never feel overly chaotic or jarring. The clean-lined character designs and scenery props pair naturally with the camera work, achieving true freedom in combat. The core concept of the "halo" is the signature item of the main characters, the Administrators — worn at the head as a highly recognizable accessory in daily life, but once a skill is used, each halo represents a different trait, nature, and ability.

Beyond its unique setting, the animation achieves its surrealist imagery through an abundance of Y2K-era props and scenes. There's the corner shop from childhood memories, the arcade packed with cabinets, the green-skinned train slowly rolling past distant fields, and the seemingly endless summer vacation amid cicada song. Spinning tops, Poké Balls, game tokens, orange soda, bicycles, flip phones — pieced together, the 3.5-inch floppy disk stores the shared memories of an era belonging to both protagonist Guan Chao and the audience. Layered with classic dreamcore elements like eyes, dragonflies, and radio waves, The Memory Administration Bureau uses flashbacks of imagery to present a collective nostalgia uniquely Chinese.

Sound and visuals work together perfectly. The voice acting distinguishes the lookalike members of the Grand Absurd organization, accentuating their grotesque mystery and adding plenty of laughs. Strong-rhythm drum arrangements make the fights hit harder; the radio static in memories and moments of chaos raises the hair on your arms; and well-placed silences leave the audience more room to imagine.

The theme song sung by DOUDOU seems merely distinctive at first listen, fitting The Memory Administration Bureau's Chinese dreamcore setting and art style. It's not until the callback at the end of episode six that you realize "It's Okay to Forget" is exactly what Guan Chao and He Mingshuo, from each other's perspectives, want to say to one another — and it is Guan Chao, trapped by his memories, finally achieving spiritual self-redemption toward his future self.

The surrealist music suddenly becomes an extension of the narrative, and the crowning touch of episode six, bringing viewers to tears and filling the danmaku with comments like "This episode is insane," "I want to cry so bad, so stunning," and "Watching this makes me want to go study animation (sobbing)."

"If you could return to any day of your life, which day would you go back to?"

"I believe in my future self — it'll be fine, for sure."

Two key lines about time run through the entire season of The Memory Administration Bureau, summarizing protagonist Guan Chao's struggles and growth. The distinctive production and high-quality visual language never stop at showing off — from beginning to end, they serve the narrative. The somewhat scattered, fragmented expression of the Chinese dreamcore in earlier episodes finally assembles, in episode six, into a story with a vast yet complete worldview.

This story is unlike most domestic animation on the market. It opens with multiple timelines unfolding at once, laying out plenty of suspense. On the surface, it's the story of Guan Chao, who, in order to leave the memory layers and regain his freedom and return to the real world, muddles his way into becoming a temporary Memory Administrator and battles through different scenarios. In reality, it's the story of Guan Chao trapped in the trauma of his best friend He Mingshuo's death, going through inner struggle, wanting to return to the past — until he recovers his memories and completes his self-redemption.

At its heart, this is a simple, easy-to-understand story, but the animation's presentation isn't confined by the rigid framework of time. Instead, it chooses a non-linear narrative structure, drawing viewers into actively participating, organizing information, and filling in the blanks to reconstruct the full storyline. The interweaving of multiple perspectives and threads, combined with montage editing, gives viewers far more room for interpretation.

So The Memory Administration Bureau has a bit of an entry barrier and is a bit of a slow burn. Some shots' expressions may seem absurd at first — soda, wooden sticks, game tokens, radio waves, trains, rails... The layering of these elements feels somewhat stream-of-consciousness — until episode six pays everything off, like a bullet fired years ago striking you square between the brows. These fragments of story are all proof of friendship in Guan Chao's memories — and the source of his trauma.

Protagonist Guan Chao is also a bit of a slow-burn character, but he is well-rounded and vivid, as if he really exists in our lives. He gets discouraged and avoids things; he's a top student who also loves games; he faces the pressures of his family of origin and of becoming a corporate drone. Yet he also treasures friendship and learns to be brave. Even when he isn't brave enough, he strives to make peace with himself, telling every viewer, "It's okay to stay where you are; it's okay to forget."

The supporting cast is just as vivid and interesting. Although most of the characters' stories haven't been fully developed, each has a distinct personality and past, drawing viewers' anticipation for what comes next. Why does Administrator Fangtang hold fast to the memory recycling station — could there be a twist in store for someone as strong as her, with her winning streak? What exactly will the hot-tempered Baichong strike with her crosshair, why is her vessel held by Fangtang, and what does that have to do with the key and paperclip in her memories? A ammonite is trapped inside Qianjun's halo jar — and what kind of cat cage is she herself trapped in?

The character "Protagonist Halo" from the memory interlayer only appeared for one episode before becoming a "hot favorite" among The Memory Administration Bureau cast. Falling from beloved angel status into a Bureau-wanted criminal, the wicked-yet-righteous "Halo" has attracted plenty of fans of seemingly sweet but secretly dark characters. His True Theater, which can edit other people's memories through editing techniques, is such a compelling concept that it leaves limitless possibilities for future plot developments.

Each character attracts fans of different tastes, and everyone who watches The Memory Administration Bureau will come away with their own reading — about youth, family, friendship, work, life... These emotions strike straight at the heart. Within the Chinese context familiar to viewers, The Memory Administration Bureau contains deep meditations on existentialism and on whether living has meaning; portrayals of family of origin and workplace pressure; and reflections on whether to forget or remember, to flee or to move forward. Some viewers recall the childhood friends they played games and rode bikes with, only to gradually drift apart; some marvel at how complex human nature is, and wonder how to clear the game of life; some realize that pain may grow invisible thorns all over a person, wounding those who try to get close.

Though it frequently "stabs" viewers, forcing them to face the characters' deaths head-on, the underlying tone of this story is delicate and gentle. In an unknown parallel world, the departed Randeng and Huihuo get a happy ending of traveling together; as the various clues unlock Guan Chao's memories, they tell him it's okay if he can't go back; and as viewers sink into empathy, it seems to reach through the screen and tell each and every one of them, even if your past holds regrets — whether you choose to forget it all or stay stuck in place — trust your future self.

In today's domestic animation market, the standards and rules for what makes a good work are getting more and more complicated. 3D animation, still the mainstream, is locked in white-hot competition; from xuanhuan to fantasy, despite the homogenization, it remains the traffic magnet. AI animation and AI manga dramas have surged in number and, riding on rapid short-video distribution, have become a creative force that can't be ignored. Talking-point works like Niu Lai draw attention and convert it into box office through fan-made derivative content — but is that model replicable? No one knows the answer. No matter how the market shifts, a highly polished original 2D animation like The Memory Administration Bureau remains rare — and right now, Bilibili is the only place where we can see such free, vital works.

The Memory Administration Bureau grew out of Bilibili's Seeking Light Project; from short film to series, this group of young creators spent six years on it. Bilibili's Chinese animation division has long preserved creative space and offered patient support for niche original domestic 2D animation like this. From The Legend of Luo Xiaohei to AOTU World, from Scissor Seven to Fog Hill of Five Elements, from Link Click to Yao-Chinese Folktales, over the past decade and more, these outstanding works have gone from Bilibili to the big screen, from the internet into everyday life, becoming representative works of contemporary Chinese 2D animation that combine aesthetics, storytelling, and commercial value.

Bilibili has also built its own ecosystem around original animation, so that original creators at the cold-start stage are never left isolated and helpless. Whenever an original animation premieres on Bilibili, uploaders actively jump in with fan-made derivative works, spanning every category: plot analysis, character edits, music covers, and more. IP development around original works proceeds in parallel — with the recent launch of Link Click Season 3, a Wuhan sky-rail itasha collaboration went live at the same time, drawing plenty of fans to check it out. Platform, creators, and audiences working together — only this kind of virtuous ecosystem can provide the confidence for the long-term development of original animation.

The Memory Administration Bureau is the same. Uploaders' plot analyses, edits, and hand-drawn fan animations have already followed; viewers discuss passionately in the comments section and fan out to other social platforms to rave about it; many viewers who genuinely love domestic animation have come because of its reputation and spared no praise or support after watching. Danmaku floats by with lines like "The Memory Administration Bureau is amazing — keep it up!", and in the long reviews, one viewer wrote: "I want to win a 300-million lottery jackpot and invest it all in The Memory Administration Bureau at once — keep this project going forever."

The Memory Administration Bureau, possibly a bit of a slow burn, needs many viewers willing to wait and to patiently understand it — and as it happens, Bilibili, as a key battleground for the growth of original animation, has built up over the years an audience with high tolerance and genuine appreciation for quality content. Together, everyone is creating more possibilities for the future of original domestic 2D animation.