33 posts tagged with "Chinese Animation"

Author / Rabbit

This article is republished with permission from “Reliable ACG”

There are countless undervalued animations, but relatively few can earn a genuine “good” review from the majority who watch them. A Will Eternal is definitely one of them.

With nearly half of the original novel remaining unadapted, and the project planning directly pivoting Season 4 into the final arc, the currently airing A Will Eternal animation progresses through the plot at a rapid pace, yet the production team has still maintained its footing.

That means, after six years of broadcasting across four seasons with 175 episodes aired so far, this traditional 2D animation, the sole annual 2D series in Chinese donghua, hasn't collapsed, deteriorated, or been grotesquely altered. It features effects, fight scenes, and traditional Chinese aesthetics, frequently delivering plot highlights and animation showcases. Stacked with these buffs, it is nothing short of a miracle in the contemporary domestic online animation industry.

Yet it doesn't seem very popular.

While it hasn't completely fizzled out, its popularity does not match its quality. We usually say an animation's quality falls short of the hype, meaning it doesn't live up to its reputation, but the A Will Eternal animation is the opposite: despite boasting near-flawless completion and high polish, it hasn't garnered the corresponding heat it deserves.

Bullet comments fly across almost every episode saying: “So good, why is the audience so small?” “No one's watching, what a pity,” and the official Weibo comments section always has people posting, “Why can't it go viral?”

Yeah, why?

Though more than half of the final season remains unaired and drawing conclusions now would be premature, we're even more afraid it will just end like this, quietly fading away without a sound.

It's 2026. For such a scarce, high-quality work in the market, what makes it receive praise but fail at attracting viewers?

The A Will Eternal animation seems to possess all the traits that today's hit domestic donghua should have, with practically no major red flags.

First, the IP is solid. Adapted from Er Gen's novel of the same name, it didn't start from scratch; its sibling works include Renegade Immortal and Beyond the Verse. Overall, the adaptation stays faithful to the original. Aside from a slightly fast pace, there are no bizarre alterations, and most original fans approve.

The production is arguably top-tier within the industry — VSG Animation, a domestic T0-level 2D studio, known for past works like Mo Dao Zu Shi, The King's Avatar S1, and Minediao Bureau Strange Records. Over the past six years, the core creative team behind A Will Eternal has remained highly stable, with almost no major personnel changes in key roles. The team cares deeply about this project, and you can tell the characters were loved by their creators. Handsome men, beautiful women, whether grand scenes or close-ups, daily life or peak moments, animation rarely collapses, plus there are cute chibi mini-theaters.

The scheduling is also flawless. It premiered in 2020, right when the annual donghua concept was heating up domestically. Having the capacity for a 2D annual series genuinely surprised the industry, setting off on a great note. Concurrent 3D annuals like A Record of a Mortal's Journey to Immortality and Perfect World also held the top spot in Chinese animation. The currently airing final season slots into the summer broadcast window. Although this year's summer slot is fiercely competitive, with decent quality works across various platforms, A Will Eternal's quality absolutely holds its own.

Even though it updates every other year, production quality is guaranteed, making the cycle understandable. This isn't rare in the industry; 3D annuals like Mortal's Journey and Cang Yuan Tu also take breaks between seasons to prepare materials, yet both become platform anchors.

In terms of story themes, A Will Eternal follows classic fantasy cultivation, just like most top-tier domestic donghua today._ It checks all the standard boxes: male-protagonist power fantasy. Bai Xiaochun's character design is flawless—gifted, overpowered, hardworking, naturally witty and humorous, punctuated with comedic moments, loyal, cute as a child and reliable grown-up. It's hard not to like this eccentric, spirited character.

Harem-leaning but not marketing pure romance. Each female character has distinct visual and personality traits, with independent facets rather than being mere props; romantic pacing is handled just right, neither forcing CP dynamics nor leaving too much ambiguity, instead offering a balanced space for subtle sweetness.

The supporting cast ensemble is fascinating, helping complete Bai Xiaochun's growth arc. He evolves from a little boy who cultivates solely for immortality into a mature young patriarch capable of standing alone and protecting his masters and friends. Every character boasts unique personalities and charming quirks: Uncle Lǐ Shū is reserved and resilient; Quē'er speaks contrary to his feelings; Xiǎo Mèi is cute and playful; Sòng Jiějiě is responsible yet gentle; Dà Shīxiōng is honest and simple; Zǐ Mò is powerful yet detail-oriented. Character development is never perfunctory.

The narrative pacing is incredibly viewer-friendly. Protagonist comebacks never happen at the worst possible moment, emotional climaxes aren't jarring, thanks to proper buildup and foreshadowing. It virtually eliminates those plot points that make you feel “either the writer or the audience needs a brain wipe.” In Episode 4 of the final season, Bai Xiaochun returns to his sect. Using a transmitting jade slip to gather information rapidly covers past flashbacks and introduces new conflict backgrounds. His subsequent return for vengeance is both satisfying and stylish, packing this highly anticipated key sequence neatly into one episode.

Emotional handling balances directness and passion with restraint and suppression, rather than mechanically applying templates and prop characters. In Episode 10, Bai Xiaochun's reunion with Senior Sister Dǔ uses a few lines of dialogue and alternating interior/exterior carriage shots to beautifully convey years of bond and long-separated distance. Sweet yet angsty, the emotional expression is complex yet delicate.

Everyday storylines are packed with modern memes that resonate with audiences. Season 3 features livestream e-commerce script performances for selling pills and starting chain stores; Bai Xiaochun creates his own cultivation mantras for slacking off to survive, essentially serving as a workplace survival guide for modern employees. Though set in the cultivation world, the underlying tone aligns with contemporary youth values: featuring rebellion, counter-culture, and anti-trope exciting sequences.

Highlights multiply in art and production. 2D fights are stunningly choreographed, settings oscillate between ethereal and classical elegance, and costume/prop details are meticulously crafted.

Effects are distinctive, color usage is eye-friendly—brilliant without blinding glare, lacking almost any harsh lighting pollution. Grand scenes boast imposing presence, high-tier battles carry visual pressure, storyboard compositions are dynamic, and everything looks cool.

In recent years, domestic 3D donghua favor pursuing Eastern aesthetics, often pausing ink-wash paintings or performing silent-movie-style segments. What A Will Eternal lacks least is precisely this kind of flexing technique. Within this traditional 2D piece, stylistic shifts come effortlessly. When tired of steady conventional 2D art styles, it switches to ink-wash, and internal monologues even feature chibi cuts. One could say the production team expresses the advantages of 2D animation to the fullest.

Highlights abound on A Will Eternal. These are exactly the promotional selling points current domestic donghua blockbusters chase. But why hasn't A Will Eternal, gathering all these strengths, caught fire? It shouldn't be this way.

Some might wonder: In the era dominated by 3D, is 2D animation original sin?

Obviously not.

2D animations boast numerous hits and strong monetization capabilities. In fact, during this era of hyper-homogenized 3D tech competition, producing 2D animation becomes a form of differentiation, making quality 2D easier to break into the mainstream. Whether it's VSG's earlier masterpieces Mo Dao Zu Shi and The King's Avatar S1, Bilibili's recent hits Link Click, Scissor Seven, and Non-Human, or theatrical releases Langlangshan Xiao Yaoguai and The Legend of Hei, they are all refined 2D works achieving success across heat, reputation, and commerce simultaneously.

Stopping updates certainly isn't the reason either. Plenty of seasonal hits exist, and many non-renewed works are still long-awaited under the label “until we die”.

Then why isn't it popular? I think the core reason is simply that A Will Eternal’s quality hasn't had the chance to be seen by more people. To ignite word-of-mouth, being good isn't enough; it needs talking points and fandom guidance, requires a vibrant secondary creation ecosystem and uninterrupted IP development updates.

Perhaps A Will Eternal is too ordinary, and so is VSG Animation itself: beautiful and strong but not pitiful. Viewers who enjoy it won't turn to social media pushing it out of sympathy-driven “save our donghua” logic, and because its completion rate is so high, there are hardly any flaws to complain about or roast. Thus, discussions remain confined within niches, becoming a niche blockbuster: watchers keep watching, finishers move on.

But it's already 2026. Surely no one expects a show's broadcast outcome to rely entirely on itself and its fans' efforts alone. Our domestic animation industry has already formed mature promotion/distribution, marketing, and commercial development models, backed by experienced teams, third-party vendors, and extensive supporting infrastructure. Don't even mention standard tactics like online/offline events, PR drafts, short videos, or fandom guidance; even less legitimate methods like hired trolls, anti-black ops, and smear campaigns are readily deployed.

We used to constantly debate whether “good wine fears not deep alleys”, because audiences are growing smarter, watching more films/shows, and accumulating richer viewing experience. For average productions, marketing gimmicks can't fool anyone; short-term hype cannot guarantee long-tail effects.

And now we suddenly realize: when the phrase “even good wine fears deep alleys” strikes back like a boomerang, piercing a truly excellent work, it feels utterly heartbreaking, regretful, and angering. Unknowingly, the alleyways of domestic animation have somehow become this deep.

A Will Eternal isn't an isolated case. Also airing this summer, Cha Ah Er Zhong Season 6 is another high-completion-rate animation trapped in a small circle. Its differentiated school setting, Northeastern dialect comedy elements, wonderful youth ensemble, and 12-year evergreen IP… Most importantly, it's one of China's scarce original 3D animations, with complete narratives, excellent pacing, main plots interwoven with side units, full of youth, memories, fun, and tears.

Just brainstorming brings up countless highlights for Cha Ah Er Zhong, yet Seasons 5 and 6 seemed to air and finish too low-key, failing to break out and leaving few memorable footprints. I believe its quality shouldn't be confined to niche status either. Comparing it to the cinematic IP earning 300-500 million RMB at the box office, which followed the same “series-to-movie-and-back-to-series” path, The Legend of Hei achieved broader mainstream breakthrough, with derivative products scattered everywhere. Cha Ah Er Zhong has already solidified its foothold in lower-tier markets and deserves more opportunities to expand, achieving greater IP commercial development results._

Regrettably, asking animation studios to proactively handle this is extremely difficult. Most companies' skill trees currently point toward creation rather than the market. Just nailing the creative process itself is already outstanding. Perhaps buried in creation, they lack negotiation skills or aren't particularly sensitive to the shifting tides of external IP commercialization. This is normal; everyone has weaknesses.

Therefore, the heavy burdens of distribution/promotion and IP development are mostly handed to video platforms, which share co-production status.

So here's the question: as distribution channels, isn't a platform's primary duty to ensure quality works reach more eyes, and help different projects find their matching audiences? Could it really be this batch of audiences failing? For a piece akin to a perfect-stat powerhouse, receiving zero response… with platforms feeding so many staff, what are they actually doing? What exactly are they protecting? Hard to guess.

I don't know if anyone outside the production team and fandom truly cares about the fate of such works. After all, the industry's torrent rolls onward. Over a hundred titles update annually, many suffer sudden cancellations and forced endings, yet only a handful can etch themselves into history books, repeatedly savored, becoming timeless classics.

So beyond recommending the work, this article aims to explore a deeper question: as scarce industry assets, how should premium production capacity and elite creative teams leverage existing industrial resources to secure reasonable attention for their works, thereby realizing a positive feedback loop for quality output and preventing vicious cycles where inferior drives out superior?

Platform responsibility is unavoidable. Interestingly, reviewing current mainstream video platforms investing most heavily in domestic donghua reveals stark differences in how they treat varying works.

Fortunately, most platforms within the industry maintain positive and flexible attitudes toward premium capacity and excellent works. We can observe that when a series performs well, platforms immediately upgrade to annual formats and increase funding/resources; standout plot points and memorable characters trigger boosted internal/external traffic pushes, ad placements, and reputation management to attract new fans and retain veterans; favorable audience feedback accelerates IP development plans, merchandise production, and licensing partnerships; if a title truly flops in quality, resource allocation flexibly adjusts to cut losses promptly, avoiding forced fake virality.

Most platforms accurately grade annual and flagship slot titles. S+ and S tiers guarantee highest quality, meriting matched resources. While differing S-tier animations each shine uniquely, none commit egregious errors or basic mistakes.

Only a minority of platforms suffer poor flexibility, grinding routines regardless of quality or release cadence. If a series starts as platform transparent, it stays invisible forever, whereas favored darlings receive top-tier resources to sweep under the rug even when production and reputation crater. Ironically, ignoring ROI and dumping resources yields inflated metrics, yet universal audience reception and commercial validation never lie. Then again, given strategic mandates for cost-cutting efficiency alongside long-termism, can cost-performance really be ignored?

In essence, a platform's current actions—or inactions—dictate the lifespan of most animations, and even their studios. Low popularity guarantees cancellation; poor metrics might trigger payment withholdings akin to live-action dramas. Originally leveraging platform advantages for domestic donghua IPs, platform inaction now directly backlashes upon creation, compressing opportunities and spatial margins.

Should a premium animation partner with the wrong platform, its fate is sealed from day one. It squanders hundreds of people's years of sweat, drains creative passion, and mortgages future opportunity costs. The domestic animation sector accelerates rapidly, particularly in commercial development; the IP value of tier-one animations long transcends mere millions or tens of millions in production budgets.

Having contacted numerous animation creators, most diligently binge-watch their entire series post-release, meticulously reading bullet comments and reviews—a highly ritualistic act for them. Production cycles stretch long: 2–3 years typically, sometimes 4–5. Throughout repeated, drawn-out creative hibernations, immense positive audience feedback becomes essential sustenance to persevere, maintain passion, and prolong the vitality and creative spark of the industry.

I wonder if they catch bullet comments asking “So good, why isn't it popular?” and what they'd feel upon seeing them. Calm? Regret? Sorrow? Anger? Or, like me now, mainly a accustomed sense of powerlessness.

We wholeheartedly hope excellent creators enjoy pristine environments, that quality works secure rational resource allocation and wider visibility—they deserve broader affection. As ordinary viewers limited to writing articles, our agency remains minimal. But we consistently believe worthy animations merit us deploying numerous essays to fight for something on their behalf.

Hopefully this piece arrives before it's too late. Rest assured, however: this isn't the first, nor will it be the last.

On July 20, 2026, the original Chinese 2D animation White Lightning celebrated the second anniversary of its premiere and officially announced the production of its second season.

Two years on, this youth story about high school girls who bond over table tennis and strive both on and off the court has not faded from the industry's view.

Last summer, White Lightning went overseas as a compilation film screening in Japanese theaters; this summer, on its second anniversary, the official team also held offline commemorative events in many cities across the country.

Behind it is Huamei Animation, founded in 2019. Though a relatively young animation studio, it has shown astonishing creativity in recent years.

Multiple wildly popular game PVs, Capsule Plan short films, two consecutive original 2D animation series... Every animation studio has its own original dream, but very few can truly “be themselves.”

How did Huamei Animation step by step find its own original path, turn ideas into works, and further develop them into IPs?

On the occasion of White Lightning's second anniversary and the conclusion of Action! Monster Movie, we interviewed Huamei Animation's co-founder and producer, Jia Xuewen (Yibei). From the perspectives of project development and IP management, she talked about the road the team has traveled and what comes next.

01 From Working for Others to Originals​

“Even if the decision itself was made rationally, the essence of original animation is still a gamble.”

Rewind to 2019, when Huamei Animation was founded: the production team, including Yibei, had only 6 members. Though the team was small, its members had all accumulated rich experience in 2D animation production, lived through the era when web animation was on the rise, and participated in producing many commercial animation projects.

But unlike the past, when they only did contract work, Yibei says Huamei Animation had a clear goal from day one: to create original IPs “held in its own hands.”

But ideals can't keep a company running. Original work requires time and money, and the team first had to solve survival. The company's startup capital came from founder and director Jiafei selling an apartment worth about a million yuan. In addition, all full-time employees at the time received a uniform monthly salary of 6,000 yuan, and things only improved slightly once contract projects came in. Beyond keeping the company running normally, investing all profits into original R&D was everyone's consensus.

Looking back at Huamei Animation's early Weibo posts, their earliest content was mostly “claiming credit” for commercial projects they contracted or assisted with, including the promotional PV for the game Ninja Must Die 3 and the opening animation for the web series Really Want to Be With You; among these, the Punishing: Gray Raven animation PV and Stone Hero Feels So Lonely were co-produced with Big Firebird Culture.

In fact, the survival strategy Huamei Animation has adopted since its founding is constantly alternating between “original + contract work” and “long-form + short-form,” with the two supporting each other.

On one hand, contract projects provide the team with stable cash flow, keeping the company running; on the other hand, producing different types of projects continuously hones the team's abilities while waiting for its own opportunity.

In Huamei Animation's third year after founding, the White Lightning PV was officially released on August 11, 2021.

Energetic high school girls, familiar cityscapes and school settings, and a relatively rare domestic sports theme... Within a day of the one-minute-plus short's release, its view count quickly surpassed one million, sparking heated discussion across major video platforms and social media, drawing attention from both audiences and the industry.

But Yibei revealed that although White Lightning was Huamei's first planned original project, it was not the earliest original project to begin PV production. From the company's founding in 2019, the team had been planning multiple original directions, and first launched PV production for the fantasy-themed original project Code: Birdman Plan. Due to the pandemic, that PV's production was suspended in early 2020. On the sports front, the team had also considered directions like running and badminton.

Ultimately, weighing the theme's popularity, animation production difficulty, the potential sports boom from the Hangzhou Asian Games, and table tennis's nationwide recognition and popular base as China's “national ball sport,” Huamei decided around 2020 to prioritize White Lightning.

Even if the decision itself was made rationally, the essence of original animation is still a gamble.

Without external investment, the team took on commercial projects while producing the White Lightning PV.

Production of the White Lightning PV proceeded intermittently for over half a year. But when the short was actually finished, the team seemed less excited than expected. As stated in the announcement after the PV's release, the team was still “in a daze” at the time, and Huamei's daily routine continued to be rushing between different projects. From a professional 2D animation production perspective, the team itself felt the PV still had plenty of room for improvement.

On August 11, as the White Lightning PV was released, Yibei was at a hospital in her hometown in Hunan accompanying her mother and hadn't looked at her phone all day. Only in the evening, after receiving messages from many friends, did she log into Huamei Animation's account backend — her phone immediately froze, flooded with a massive wave of notifications and private messages.

Without any planned promotional resources, the White Lightning PV surpassed one million views within 10 hours of release, was shared over 10,000 times on Weibo, and topped Bilibili's trending chart.

The PV's response clearly exceeded the team's expectations. Facing this unexpected popularity, Yibei nonetheless declined interview requests from multiple media outlets. “I found it odd at the time — we only made a PV, why interview me? Let's talk after we finish the actual series.”

During that period, Huamei gradually came into contact with several potential investors. But facing demands from some investors to invest in the company or buy out its production capacity, Huamei rejected them all — the team wanted to preserve the company's independence and long-term control over its original content. Yibei said: “It's not that we didn't lack money. We sought investment a few times in between, but somehow it never worked out — maybe fate arranged for us to run an experiment. We didn't understand investment back then; without investors, naturally no one interfered with the creative work, so if we did poorly it was on our own inadequacy. This is the dumbest, hardest way — I really don't recommend it.”

Ultimately, White Lightning was confirmed as self-produced by Huamei Animation, streaming on both Tencent Video and Bilibili, with Aniplex handling overseas distribution. Originally scheduled for October 2023 during the Asian Games, it was delayed to July 2024 during the Olympics.

The bewilderment caused by the PV's viral success in 2021 also made Yibei realize her understanding of traffic-driven marketing and IP monetization was very limited. Between “making an animation” and “running an animation IP,” there is still a long distance.

So, as White Lightning progressed from PV to a real animation IP, she began consciously “letting go” of on-site production, investing more energy in areas she previously knew little about: intensively “cramming” knowledge of promotion, commercialization, supply chains, and other aspects of full-chain IP management.

02 How Many Steps Does It Take to “Run” an Animation​

“From the past focus on animation itself's 'work logic' to a deeper understanding of the 'commodity logic' surrounding an IP.”

To run an original animation IP, “knowing how to produce” is only the first step.

Looking at Chinese animation in the internet era, most original works are backed by major video platforms or companies that already possess film/TV development and IP operation capabilities. By contrast, studios like Huamei Animation — where the production team itself initiates an original project, successfully lands it as a long-form series, and participates in the entire commercial process — are actually rare.

This is one reason Huamei Animation draws attention: they not only “made” a PV or an animation, but also built a “commercial closed loop” around their work.

In Yibei's view, the work of “running an animation IP” can roughly be broken into four major areas: production, distribution, promotion, and commercialization.

The first step is mastering the core business of animation production — staying afloat and completing the work.

As mentioned above, Huamei established an alternating model of “original + contract” and “long + short.” As the team kept refining its collaboration, the company's production efficiency steadily improved. In Yibei's view, Huamei's 2D animation management pipeline is now relatively mature. “We break down processes like first key animation and second key animation extremely finely. Because we were so poor, this maximizes cost savings while ensuring quality — it really tests management ability. Without exaggeration, in the field of 2D animation project management, I might be the person in China who has studied it most deeply. From 2022 to 2024, lacking production capacity for our original work, I visited animation companies all over the country almost like doing fieldwork, and with everyone's help we finished the project like ‘eating from a hundred households.'” This detailed pipeline and management approach also allowed her to somewhat step back from on-site management and devote more energy to other areas.

At the company-management level, balancing the team's capacity across different projects was equally difficult. Especially in the company's early years, Huamei long faced an “impossible triangle”: “If you want to do things well, you have no money; if you want to make more money, you have to sacrifice quality; but if quality suffers, partners won't be sure they'll give you projects next time.” So throughout Huamei's startup years, Yibei jokes that nearly every year was spent “teetering on the edge of bankruptcy.”

After White Lightning entered full production, when negotiating external commercial partnerships, Yibei gradually shifted from focusing on project revenue to prioritizing “stable demand” and “brand exposure.”

“So in some cases, (our) project pricing was relatively cheap at the time, or we partnered with other companies to share risk. Projects must be stable, risk must be small, no recklessness. Because our company has no financing, we have no slack — we cannot afford a single project going wrong. We have no payment terms buffer to gamble with.”

The second step is stepping out of the animation production comfort zone and filling in full-chain IP management capabilities.

For distribution, she wanted White Lightning to “have it both ways”: serve core anime fans while also having the potential to spread to general audiences. In those years she noticed some animations had begun experimenting with simultaneous multi-platform streaming, so from the second half of 2022 she proactively approached major video platforms to explore multi-platform co-streaming.

But for an original project from a young company, this path was not easy. Yibei recalls the initial talks went unsmoothly, and platforms also needed time to evaluate this cooperation model. Fortunately, the platforms themselves were seeking change, and after nearly a year of negotiation, White Lightning finally secured dual-platform exclusive co-streaming on Tencent Video and Bilibili in winter 2023.

For promotion and marketing, Yibei keenly perceived the drastic changes in social platform dynamics between 2021 and 2023, and focused the team's limited operational resources on two major social platforms: Douyin and Xiaohongshu. The team set up official accounts, continuously released character materials, and encouraged user secondary creation, gradually building buzz for the work.

In this process, Yibei also maximally mobilized the personal connections she'd built over many years, proactively learning from professionals in different fields and exploring collaborations.

Very luckily, her high school classmate Nicole was a supervisor at an operations company with mature ACG marketing experience, so Huamei entrusted that company with a full-service operations partnership; her friend Qiqi had a background in managing real-person talent, so Yibei asked her to join the team in 2024 on a project basis to manage the operations department overall, working in tandem with Nicole's team.

Around 2023, as project production advanced steadily, Huamei began facing a new challenge: how to do IP licensing and commercial development? How to catch up on business knowledge for cross-industry partnerships?

“Many animation creators actually aren't good at expressing their value to the outside world.” To find answers, Yibei attended numerous comic conventions and licensing expos, trying to get more people to know about Huamei's original projects and build connections with industry professionals up and down the chain.

Meanwhile, she began proactively getting to know senior veterans in animation business and IP management, working hard to close the “information gap” between herself and the industry.

“From the second half of 2023 to the first half of 2024, I visited dozens of people, (many of them) seasoned professionals, and everyone generously shared with me. Looking back now, many of my questions were extremely ‘rookie-level,' but everyone patiently explained, helping me get up to speed quickly and giving me a grasp of how business licensing works.”

Looking at White Lightning's end credits, the staff and acknowledgments related to promotion and commercialization number over 80 people.

Through continuous exchanges, Yibei gradually completed a shift in perspective: from the past focus on animation itself's “work logic” to a deeper understanding of the “commodity logic” surrounding an IP.

When first preparing to develop merchandise, since the work had not yet aired, market awareness and reference cases for this original IP were limited, and White Lightning's early merchandise licensing went poorly. Facing partners' doubts, Huamei chose to prove it themselves with action. “No data or cases? Then we'll run the experiment ourselves and give everyone data and cases — otherwise we'd be stuck here forever.” To complete the first batch of merchandise, Huamei learned from scratch how to build e-commerce and warehousing systems — the person who led the team through this was Yifeng, a friend Yibei had met playing JX3 Online in college, who happened to work in e-commerce.

During the promotion phase after the animation aired, the team likewise had to constantly seek partnership resources. Exposure opportunities that seemed ordinary from outside required enormous trivial communication and coordination, and many collaborations depended on support from industry “friends and family” and even the Hangzhou local government.

From mall big-screen displays, to brand collaborations, to preview screenings — even inviting Olympic table tennis champion Li Xiaoxia to an offline premiere event. Huamei kept securing more exposure for White Lightning, further expanding the work's influence.

Through the full-chain development of White Lightning, Yibei gradually formed her own preliminary understanding of animation IPs:

“Animation production is the ‘point,' the full pipeline is the ‘line,' and long-term IP operation content is the ‘plane.' Getting more viewers to see it relies on promotion and commercialization bringing continuous exposure, forming a thicker ‘plane' — combined together, this is the ‘three-dimensional object' that makes an animation IP stand up.”

03 Withstanding the Pressure, Reaping the Results​

“Though I did a lot and worked myself hard, it was really the team colleagues behind me who kept supporting me.”

When the team first decided to incubate an original IP, the starting point was quite simple and the mindset relaxed. Yibei says everyone only thought, “First get the original animation made; once it's done, that's success — the work itself is the reward, everything else can wait.”

But when the team actually got the chance to invest in original production, its mindset quietly changed.

Yibei recalls that around March 2024 was when her stress peaked. At that point, less than half a year remained until White Lightning's official launch, and Huamei Animation faced an enormous funding gap. Because several major payments had not yet arrived, the company needed bank loans to keep running.

“I did the math at the time: because the production scope grew from the original 3 episodes totaling 45 minutes to 6 episodes totaling 84 minutes, we were already way over budget — that's why we had to ‘eat from a hundred households.' Promotion and business would cost about another 2 million. I was extremely anxious and told the director: ‘Once that 2 million is spent, it's a 2 million gap, and we may not recoup it...'”

“The director and the others said: ‘We all agreed you'd handle (promotion and business) — we all consented, it wasn't your decision alone.'”

“I was under huge pressure then, because I was the one spending the money, and I worried so much — this was money everyone earned through hard work, and the company had to take out loans on top of that...”

But even at the hardest times, Yibei says Huamei has never once delayed paying salaries over these years; all the pressure was absorbed internally through management's “extreme micro-management.”

In the most cash-strapped second half of 2023, Huamei at one point suspended all outsourced second key animation, controlling mid-production costs through phased production. This approach compressed post-production time and left some regrets in the work, but at least kept the company running.

Beyond that, Yibei also notes that Huamei's survival through the crisis depended on the long tradition of mutual assistance among domestic 2D animation companies, and some accumulated “good karma.” After the yen exchange rate fell in 2022, a friend's company working on Japanese animation projects approached Yibei for business introductions. Through such chains of mutual help, Huamei in 2022 received the Honkai Impact 3rd New Year special animation, which supported the company's cash flow. Yibei says: “We're domestic self-taught animators who started from Flash, so we've never done Japanese-card work — it was only in 2022 that we learned how much exchange rate changes affected friends doing Japanese projects.” These market changes also strengthened her resolve to pivot toward original work.

White Lightning was originally scheduled to launch during the 2023 Asian Games, but after the pandemic lockdown ended everyone fell ill one after another, production time doubled, and the director unexpectedly broke a bone in a fall, disrupting the original plan. By the time White Lightning officially launched during the 2024 Olympics, Yibei described her and the team's state as “utter chaos.” “Looking back now, I don't even know how I got through 2023–24.”

But this gamble on original animation also reaped feedback beyond expectations. In its launch year, the work's main episodes exceeded 40 million views, its Tencent Video heat score broke 14,000, and its Bilibili rating reached 9.8. Within one month of its summer launch, merchandise sales across all platforms surpassed 1 million yuan.

Meanwhile, Huamei reached culture-tourism collaboration deals with the Hangzhou local government and scenic areas, launching itasha cars, stamp-collecting check-ins, and other events. The regional familiarity brought by the work's real-location references also earned the team proactive interviews and exposure from multiple Hangzhou local media.

A year later, a film version merging the 6 episodes of Season 1 into roughly 86 minutes, distributed by Aniplex, landed in Japanese theaters, with Japanese dubbing by well-known voice actors including Shiina Nana, Amamiya Sora, Asakura Momo, and Tomatsu Haruka.

And all of this was achieved without selling any rights, while maintaining the IP's independence.

Looking back now, Yibei reflects that the realization of White Lightning, this “extravagant original dream,” depended on the team's own persistence and investment, and even more on the opportunities of the era and the support of many parties.

“Though I did a lot and worked myself hard, it was really the team colleagues behind me who kept supporting me, enabling me to go out and run (business). Many animation studio producers can't get away — they have to keep the company running, and there's no money to hire promotion and business staff. I was able to step out because my colleagues bore enormous pressure.”

“And if back then I hadn't pushed White Lightning forward under pressure, and instead accepted investment or contracted other projects, it might have made running the company easier, but the IP's buzz would fade, the window for greenlighting would close, and there might never have been a chance to restart.”

“You have to understand: if you don't do original work at that juncture, you may never get to do it again. So you have to gamble.”

Persisting in original IP development and expanding full-chain management capabilities won Huamei more “chances to survive” and gave the team valuable experience. After White Lightning, Huamei Animation continued exploring more original directions.

This April, the original 2D animation Action! Monster Movie, co-produced by Bilibili and Huamei Animation, launched. The animation tells the story of Monqi, a director obsessed with monster movies, who partners with Lia, a demon-realm girl, to shoot a demon movie — only to discover along the way that the otherworld's truth is closely tied to himself.

Compared to White Lightning's grounding in a Chinese-style school youth setting, Action! Monster Movie takes a completely different style: a fictional fantasy worldview, a light-comedy narrative style, and more exuberant, outgoing character designs.

Worth noting is the work's exploration in art and character design. On one hand, it attempts brighter, more vivid color palettes and more fashionable character designs; on the other, the fictional fantasy worldview placed higher demands on the art, and the team conceived rich setting details around the demon realm's ecology.

This project let Huamei Animation further accumulate production experience in non-realistic themes, fictional worldviews, and effects-heavy action scenes. Especially in controlling character design consistency in long-form 2D animation production, the team showed clear improvement over the White Lightning era.

Speaking of the narrative regrets this animation left behind, Yibei says the team had originally hoped to maintain a relaxed episodic structure early on, then gradually advance the main plotline, using two seasons' worth of content to weave in reflections on real issues like cultural collision. But under various unforeseen factors, the project underwent multiple major adjustments after launch, and the later production schedule was extremely tight. Yibei admits that although Action! Monster Movie has its regrets, in the current industry environment, completing another original long-form animation with Bilibili's support is itself already remarkable.

At the same time, this project deepened her understanding of the rapid changes in the domestic animation market in recent years.

“Under current conditions, doing a large project inevitably means ‘spanning a cycle.' Choosing the right theme and predicting the market matter a lot. (As a project greenlit) in 2020–21, none of us thought there was anything wrong with the light-comedy direction... but now, times have changed.”

04 A New Role, Old Questions​

“The longer you work in this industry, the more you know it's determined by those upstream. But why is upstream the way it is? I still don't know, so I want to explore.”

By 2026, Huamei Animation had grown from its initial 6 people to a stable staff of around 60. Despite personnel turnover, the company has built a relatively mature management system, with production capacity sufficient to support one long-form animation per year.

This July, White Lightning officially announced the production of a second season. The second season is planned at 12 episodes of 20 minutes each, hoping to make up for the first season's shortcomings in production and storytelling, with greater emphasis on ensemble character growth and new maps unlocked, targeting broadcast in 2028. “The project is currently seeking investment — interested partners of all kinds are welcome to contact us!” Yibei added.

Recently, Huamei further expanded beyond animation production, founding a new company in Shanghai, “Wanxiang Donghe”. On one hand, the company handles refined operations of animation IPs like White Lightning; on the other, drawing on the team's experience in full-chain IP operation, it builds bridges to market for more IPs and provides support for creators.

Meanwhile, Wanxiang Donghe has also invested in new IPs such as indie games and the original character convention OCO, and co-organized offline events like Beijing Animation Week. The team hopes that through these attempts, creators can dialogue more with audiences, engage with the market, and grow together with the times.

It looks like a cross-industry leap, but in Yibei's view, it is a natural extension of her career path over the past decade-plus. In developing the White Lightning IP, she increasingly realized the limitations of creators themselves and the importance of IP commercialization.

“I do feel a sense of mission, because I was ‘lifted up' by others.” Yibei says she happened to live through the era of the web animation investment boom and the rapid growth of Chinese anime-style mobile games, and received help from many seniors and peers. Now that she possesses the knowledge and ability to run an IP's full chain, she hopes to build more bridges.

Having struggled and “leveled up” in the animation industry all this way, Yibei explains the spiritual drive that has supported her:

“I think our generation of animators all probably have questions when entering the industry: Why is Chinese animation the way it is now? Why the generational gaps? Why can't (many things) get done? The longer you work in this industry, the more you know it's determined by those upstream. But why is upstream the way it is? I still don't know, so I want to explore.

How does an animation project actually get in front of audiences? How does full-chain operation work? Why do animation companies themselves so often fail at it? Over my decade in the industry I've always been curious — it's also just my personality (that drives me). So I'm willing to do investment, promotion, commercialization, and many other things that may seem unrelated to animation.”

She believes that Huamei has so far only completed the “from 0 to 1” work for itself, and that continuing to advance original animation production and IP management going forward is like “from 1 to 100.” Yibei relays a friend's evaluation of Huamei: “Like Sun Wukong before being pinned under Five Fingers Mountain — now he's out, but obtaining the scriptures still requires eighty-one tribulations.”

Now the peak of the web animation era seems to have receded, short-video content formats are on the rise, and AIGC continues to impact society as a whole. In Yibei's view, under these conditions, today's 2D animation teams cannot simply bury their heads in improving a single link of the craft — more than ever, they need to re-understand animation's position within the broader content industry: animation is still deeply loved and consumed by audiences worldwide, and it is both one of many creative media and one link among many forms of commerce.

No one can give a definitive answer about the future of original animation. But Huamei Animation and Yibei are setting out with their questions, learning bit by bit, trying step by step, and building their ideal commercial closed loop with concrete action.

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.