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2026 Trend Report on Domestically Produced Animated Series

· 42 min read
“A year of great change.”

Author / Kaopu Erciyuan Industry Research Group

This article is republished with permission from “Kaopu Erciyuan”

The spring of 2026 still carries a lingering chill, and the field of domestic animated series feels it too. The just-ended 2025 was the year with the fewest newly launched animated series in the past five years; even counting over ten year-round series, the total barely exceeded one hundred, far from the peaks of over 140 titles in 2023 and 2024.

“Cost reduction and efficiency improvement” and “long-termism” have become the keynote, while the clamor of the “first year of AI manga dramas” diverted the attention and resources of rights holders and long/short-video platforms. The explosive hit of the year's opening, Seedance 2.0, pushed AIGC competition to new heights, and P/UGC derivative creations are challenging the long-cycle, capital-heavy animation production model. In the mass market, the 2026 Spring Festival slate lacked a blockbuster like Ne Zha 2, with only gatekeeper Boonie Bears holding the line, and discussion around Chinese animation sank into silence. On the other hand, fandom quarrels around animated works never cease — plagiarism accusations, drastic alterations, ranking wars, ideological callouts and other negative buzz frequently break out of the circle, making creation and promotion a walk on thin ice.

Despite an environment riddled with uncertainty in capital, technology, business, and public opinion, we remain cautiously optimistic about the field of domestic animated series in 2026. As we said in our report a year ago, the core word for Chinese animation in 2025 was “integration,” reflected in cross-genre content, the collision of technology and aesthetics, audiences breaking out of circles, linked business models, and broader explorations of talent convergence. The fruits of this integration are now beginning to show. Today, we believe the core word for Chinese animation in 2026 will be “transformation.”

Farewell to the wild growth of the Hundred-Series War and excessive dependence on theatrical breakouts to attract new audiences — domestic online animated series are groping toward their own independent path: we no longer blindly chase scale anxiety over minutes and title counts, but focus on the core value of visual quality and story substance; we no longer limit ourselves to homogeneous, formulaic stacking of elements, but choose the most suitable creative grammar among many options; we no longer fear or avoid AIGC tools, but face their potential squarely and turn them into aids for efficiency and innovation; we no longer work for love with no way to monetize, but explore IP licensing and diversified development to achieve a positive loop between content and commerce.

The vision is beautiful, but reality still requires steady steps. This is the fifth “Domestic Animated Series” trend report produced by Kaopu Erciyuan (WeChat ID: kpACGN). Many trends from past annual reports have come true one by one, and at this critical juncture of industrial transformation, we hope this “Domestic Animated Series” trend report can, as before, analyze industry dynamics and glimpse the future through ten major trends.

Before detailing the trends, we first systematically reviewed nearly ten dimensions of data on domestic online animated series in 2025, comparing them with the 2023 and 2024 cycles to interpret the subtle changes in mindset and action among industry players.

To improve the accuracy of trend forecasts, this time we also compiled public information on over 120 unaired IPs from the launch events of the four platforms — Bilibili, Youku, iQIYI, and Tencent Video — as of February 28, 2026. Although there are occasional surprise additions, these reserves still form the basic stock of S-level to A-level works in the 2026–2027 cycle, and each platform's strategic differences will directly determine the platform landscape and industry direction in the coming years.

Below is the full text of the 2026 “Domestic Animated Series” Trend Report. It rewards repeated reading. May Chinese animation flourish forever.

Note: The statistics scope of “domestic animated series” mentioned in this article covers non-children's, non-film/theatrical, licensed, online-only works. The 2026 “Domestic Animated Series” Trend Report contains no commercial placements, has no PDF version, and all content is freely public; it may not be sold by any individual or organization — do not be deceived.
2025 “Domestic Animated Series” Review

According to statistics from the Kaopu Erciyuan Industry Research Group, in 2025 the total number of domestic animated series on air throughout the year just exceeded 110, with 92 new launches, 76 platform-exclusive IPs, involving 62 production companies, plus 8 year-round series on air, and 10+ works with twice-weekly updates or more continuing across the year. The total number of works was far below the 140+ of 2023–2024, and overall minutes also decreased somewhat. For the first time since 2020, the production capacity of animated series saw a double decline in both title count and minutes in 2025.

Despite the contraction in quantity, overall quality steadily improved, and the industry still provided audiences who love Chinese animation with content worth watching, discussing, and spending on. Below we analyze from multiple dimensions: platforms, formats, genres, IP sources, production companies, and release windows. Considering that year-round series are nearly fixed assets for platforms, and that quality gaps in series airing across the year have limited industry impact, the following data takes the 92 newly launched domestic animated series as the main analytical subject.

92 new domestic animated series launched in 2025; the figures for 2022, 2023, and 2024 were 98, 123, and 112 respectively. It is foreseeable that most of the following objective figures will decline to varying degrees compared with previous years. Of these, only 77 were co-produced with platform participation, below 2024's 104, but in 2025 only 28 were platform-exclusive productions, roughly flat with the previous year. This shows that although platforms have contracted overall resources, investment in top-tier works remains relatively stable. The model of platforms trading investment for exclusive streaming rights is nearly over; current project cooperation increasingly concentrates on two options: “strong-alliance” deep binding and “platform-wide release” with self-responsibility for profit and loss. As for who paid for animations without platform co-production, in 2025 it was game companies and the likes of Ruohong Culture.

With overall output down, there is inevitably a bit of a content drought. So production is no longer tied to exclusive rights; platforms exchange non-top-tier and completed works, sharing streaming rights, which gives non-top-tier works more exposure opportunities — after all, such titles never had much promotional budget and basically relied on the platforms' organic users to open them.

The release of exclusive streaming rights is a signal of intensifying head concentration. Tencent Video and bilibili, which produced more animations in previous years, both contracted notably this year. From around 40 titles in 2023, to 30+ in 2024, to 20+ in 2025 — the main reason is that head concentration on these two platforms has essentially formed, with funds and resources concentrated on year-round series and S+ IPs, making it hard for new works to break out. Youku's production count dipped slightly from 16 to 10, partly for the same reason and partly because the platform strategy is shifting its focus from “new guofeng” to “original Chinese animation,” still in transition. iQIYI's production count was 20, basically flat with the year before, mainly because the platform's head IPs are still being explored, with some results possibly in 2026.

Although fewer new titles launched, the highly anticipated works on each platform were no worse than previous years, each with its own highlights: Tencent Video's Jian Lai 2, bilibili's To Be Hero X, Youku's Yun Shen Bu Zhi Meng, and iQIYI's Mo Fa Gong Zhu De Xiao Fan Nao. Beyond these new launches, the quality of year-round series on air also improved, such as Tales of Herding Gods, Battle Through the Heavens, and Renegade Immortal.

Looking at the data from 2022 to 2025, four consecutive years: 3D animation launches have kept rising, 2D has kept declining, 3-rendered-as-2 has grown ever more marginal, and the overall industrial capacity landscape is stabilizing and adjusting. The gap in minutes is more obvious: year-round series and multi-weekly-update animations are all 3D, and top 3D works are slowly growing per-episode length; apart from A Will Eternal, which updates every other year yet manages year-round status, no 2D production capacity can sustain a long series, and short-form “noodle” series are almost all 2D.

3D animation technology and industrialized pipelines have advanced too fast; spectacular visual presentation raised market acceptance, so platforms and production companies prefer greenlighting 3D. Most 2D animation still lags 3D in both visuals and capacity, but the polish of top-tier 2D is also stunning, such as Sumei Pictures' Lord of the Mysteries.

The market space for 3-render-2 keeps narrowing, mainly because its costs aren't as low as 3D and its visuals aren't as natural as 2D — its advantages are up for debate. Also, few companies in the industry do 3-render-2 in the first place, such as Shengying Animation and 2:10 AM Animation; these companies have also experimented with full-2D and full-3D animation in recent years, with decent competitiveness. Perhaps going forward, rather than 3-render-2, exploration of format fusion will show up more in 3D animation using 2D freeze frames and small animations to add visual tension and guofeng aesthetics, or in 2D animation leveraging 3D technology to cut costs and depict worldbuilding and multi-character scenes.

The quality of domestic 3D animation rose steadily in 2025; the wide application of UE and other technologies improved model precision, facial detail, scene complexity, and more, raising the average level a whole tier over previous years. Story remains relatively weak; under industrialized pipelines, many works began applying the formulas of past hits, with heavy traces of element stacking and weaker coherence. Top works perform well across the board, such as A Record of a Mortal's Journey to Immortality and Ling Cage 2.

Platforms' cost-cutting contraction affected the profit model of 3D animation of average quality. Production companies were “forced” to raise production quality to win platform investment — a phenomenon increasingly obvious after summer 2025. Overall, domestic 3D animation is getting ever more competitive; companies whose hearts aren't in creation have stagnated in quality and are about to be eliminated by the market.

2D animation's 2025 performance was somewhat surprising: from Lord of the Mysteries and Chao Neng Li Fang: Chao Fan Pian in the first half, to Mo Fa Gong Zhu De Xiao Fan Nao and Gu Wei Nan Ting in the second half, plus summer's guoman fandom king Fei Ren Zai 3, the quality and storytelling of 2D animation achieved new breakthroughs over previous years. On one hand, some top domestic comic IPs belatedly got anime adaptations, guaranteeing a quality floor; on the other, some 2D production companies avoided gimmicks and earnestly polished their visuals; accumulated experience met works suited to the teams' temperaments, achieving win-win results.

But both 2D and domestic comic IPs carry a touch of tears of the times; even when quality is good, most received lukewarm responses, leaving a wistful feeling of “had this been animated a few years earlier, it would surely have been the light of guoman.”

In terms of subject matter, xuanhuan (Eastern fantasy) still dominates, matching the 56% share of the 2023/2024 cycle in proportion, with fewer in absolute count, while the share of fantasy works increased. We mention this in every annual trend report: xuanhuan homogeneity is a problem facing the whole industry; platforms and producers are seeking novelty and change, but constrained by IP availability and teams' production inertia, they can only make slow, fine adjustments.

Slice-of-life/comedy/short-form is shrinking: apart from a few fixed popular IPs still being made to accompany book and merchandise monetization, few new projects exist. Low-capacity works from newcomers appear more often in platforms' short-animation anthologies, such as Yao-Chinese Folklore, Jiao Nang Ji Hua, and Mao Xing Dong Fang. Sci-fi has always existed, never more nor less; Chinese animators' exploration of sci-fi has never stopped, but apart from Ling Cage and Swallowed Star, no breakout hit has emerged.

In truth, it is getting harder and harder to strictly categorize animation genres; layered settings have become the norm. Audiences' choices aren't heavily constrained by genre; their core pursuit is visual beauty and impact, and story scarcity and completeness. Rather than agonizing over which genre to make, what matters more is choosing works that fit the team's DNA and can score highly on overall quality — after all, even a blue-ocean market doesn't need bad films.

By IP source, novel adaptations still exceed 60%, but this is the first decline after years of continuous growth — change has begun. The root cause is that few of the previous generation's top web novel IPs remain developable, popular, and non-homogeneous, while the new generation of S-level web novel IP adaptations are still in development cycles.

In fact, the stock of popular web novel IPs ran out long ago; the maintained output of recent years owes much to newly joined IP holders like Tomato Novel, Qimao, Shuqi, and Douban, who supplied a large volume of mid-tier novel rights, satisfying platforms' and producers' content-filling needs. However, since platforms began reducing demand for low-quality animation in 2025, cutting some highly homogeneous xuanhuan web novel adaptations, overall numbers will keep declining.

Comic adaptations held steady at 17%, with actual counts falling, because Tencent Comic, which used to do many comic adaptations, launched few new projects after its acquisition, while Kuaikan Comics released quite a few quality rights; the adapted animation was of decent overall quality, but born at the wrong time, underperforming market expectations. Game adaptations have always been stable, a self-indulgent niche of around 5% per year, a small hobby of a few game companies, such as NetEase Games, Seasun, and Tencent TiMi's Honor of Kings project.

Original animation's share has rebounded, with relatively stable numbers. Under years of pressure from a web-novel-adaptation-dominated market, still producing around 15 originals annually shows the persistence and resilience of Chinese animation creators. The average quality of original animation is decent; popular sequel projects win fans galore, such as the original sci-fi Ling Cage 2 and Hua Fei Hua Bu Liang Ren 7? — no, the口碑-crashed but still hot Bu Liang Ren 7; new IPs are also distinctive, like the highly experimental To Be Hero X and the big-female-lead Yun Shen Bu Zhi Meng.

Wait, I need to correct: Bu Liang Ren official is "The Outcast". Let me redo this paragraph properly:

Original animation's share has rebounded, with relatively stable numbers. Under years of pressure from a web-novel-adaptation-dominated market, still producing around 15 originals annually shows the persistence and resilience of Chinese animation creators. The average quality of original animation is decent; popular sequel projects win fans galore, such as the original sci-fi Ling Cage 2 and The Outcast 7, whose reputation crashed yet heat remains high; new IPs are also distinctive, like the highly experimental To Be Hero X and the big-female-lead narrative Yun Shen Bu Zhi Meng.

On new works versus sequels, the share of new works, which had declined for over three years, rebounded for the first time — this figure was 70%-64%-59%-66% across 2022-2023-2024-2025 — but 2025's absolute count did not grow much. There are contradictory reasons: on one hand, greenlighting new IPs is hard, good IPs aren't enough, and people are less willing to experiment and fail; on the other, many aired IPs have mediocre popularity with no value for sequel development, so when works run short, new ones must be made. Overall, both platforms and producers choose their investments more cautiously.

Some examples of 2025 new launches: new IP works like Kai Ju Di Tan Mai Da Li, Shan Hai Jing Mi Ma, Gu Xiong, Ke Jin Wan Jia, and IP sequels like Martial Universe 5&6, Fairies Albums: Luoyang Pian, Year Hare Affair 7, Stellar Transformations 6.

Year-round series attract much attention; as we analyzed in previous trend reports, it took only three years for the market to go from “chasing year-round series” to “year-round series failing” to “year-round series anxiety.” In 2025, only 10 high-quality year-round series were on air, and only 1 newly launched; some former year-round projects paused intermittently due to insufficient capacity. This is normal — the creators are human, not gods; even with IP adaptations, even with increasingly mature industrial pipelines, core creative content still takes human time. The market's high expectations for year-round series correspond to high pressure in creation and operations; any wobble in reputation can trap an IP in a long downward spiral of public opinion, making it hard to attract new viewers.

Year-round series still represent the top level of the animated series industry, and their accumulated long-term heat is an advantage in IP commercialization. However, multiple year-round series will hit a completion wave in 2027–2028; “can we land smoothly” has become the most pressing anxiety for these series. Whether they “flop the ending” directly determines the IP's future value — whether it becomes a benchmark IP with long-tail heat, or is discarded by the market through a funnel of core fans, all parties must consider. Developing side stories, web films, even theatrical films have become new growth points platforms seek for year-round IP, but if the flagship series can't hold, original plot quality is even more dubious, and whether promised pies can be realized or are even worth investment is a big question.

In 2025, domestic animated series' release windows no longer followed the quarterly rhythm of January/April/July/October, but concentrated in the July–August summer window and the December–February winter break window. Overall, Q3 had slightly more titles, while the other three quarters were fairly balanced. Examples: Q1's Red Bean: Food World and Shi Ye Mo Wang; Q2's Kun Tun Tian Xia: Zhang Men Gui Lai and Da Yuan Hun; Q3's Zichuan 2 and Zhe Ge Nian Ji Hai Neng Dang Da Xia Ma 2; Q4's San Xian Lun Hui and Jiu Yang Wu Shen.

Month by month, compared with rushing to hit windows in previous years, early release has become the consensus in scheduling: summer window slotted in late June, National Day window in September, winter window in December. This scheduling pattern reflects, on one hand, the normalization of audiences' demand for domestic animation — watchable year-round — and on the other, unsaturated viewing demand: weekly episodes of 10–20 minutes can't satisfy viewers; stockpiling several episodes before airing provides both recommendation resources and content accumulation, which better cultivates follow-through.

Beyond quarterly and monthly scheduling, weekly update times also shifted slightly: apart from a Monday drought, Tuesday through Sunday were fairly balanced. Platform scheduling strategies adjust dynamically every year: in 2022 the most launches were Friday–Sunday, in 2023 Thursday–Friday–Wednesday, in 2024 Saturday and Thursday, and by 2025, Wednesday and Friday. Platforms do want content every day to draw viewers, but early-week updates do get “buried at the bottom”; heavy hitters and year-round series still concentrate in the latter half of the week, making it convenient for users to binge on weekend openings. With total output shrinking, whether to pursue daily content or concentrate resources on capturing users' weekend viewing time is a question platform operations must weigh.

Of the 92 new domestic animated series launched in 2025, excluding sprawling outsourcing capacity, 62 animation companies handled main production, below 2023's 80+ and 2024's 66; 24 companies released more than one work, up from 22 in 2024. This shows the industry landscape is basically stable, the current round of elimination largely complete, head companies' industrial pipelines keep improving — but some companies are one-offs whose business focus isn't animation.

The maturing of 3D companies' industrial pipelines is also reflected in replicable capacity: over three high-capacity companies successively split into multiple entities and teams. Apart from Ruohong Culture and Suoyi Technology, animation companies maintain annual output of 2–4 titles; apart from Sparkly Key Animation running 4 year-round series simultaneously without breaks, top capacity generally keeps 1 year-round series plus 1 premium seasonal series. Industry capacity, like the works, continues trending toward head concentration. 2D capacity is also accelerating; head companies can deliver 1 premium S+ or 2 A+ works per year — mostly familiar faces like Sumei Pictures, Colored Pencil Animation, Big Firebird Culture, and Luoshui Huayuan.

Directors are the core asset of the Chinese animation industry, a view we've expressed repeatedly in articles like the 2025 “Chinese Animation Directors” Review (Series Edition). This year's report also lists selected “boutique-type” directors of hit works or high-output “workhorse-type” directors, as a brief macro summary.

For instance, directors of premium 2D works: Lord of the Mysteries' Xiong Ke, Dragon Raja and Love Between Fairy and Devil's Wang Xin, Chao Neng Li Fang and Kun Tun Tian Xia's Wei Tianxing, Fei Ren Zai's Zhong Ming, Mo Fa Gong Zhu De Xiao Fan Nao's Zhang Yingying; and in 3D, the universally known Shen Leping, Wang Yuren who persevered until A Record of a Mortal's Journey to Immortality saw the moon, Suoyi Technology's workhorse Li Tinghe, Cang Yuan Tu's Zhang Yili who brings new surprises every time, and Shen Yimo, striving to turn around the reputation of Battle Through the Heavens.

As storytelling grows ever more important, screenwriters have stepped from behind the scenes into the spotlight. But since writing teams are generally large — some works credit nearly 20 screenwriters — large-scale statistics aren't practical. So this report simply highlights a few writing teams for industry and outsiders alike; we'll also publish a more detailed Chinese animation screenwriter review article this year. Most animation companies combine writing and directing, such as Sparkly Key Animation's Shen Leping team, Wanweimao Animation's Wang Yuren team, and Shenman Culture's Zeng Yuanjun team; some have long-term stable writer-director pairings, like Sumei Pictures' screenwriter Liu Xing team with director Xiong Ke; original writing teams are few and tend toward writer-director unity, like Li Haolin's and Dong Xiangbo's teams; there are also dedicated writing teams that long-term collaborate with multiple production companies, mostly in 3D animation, such as Ma Hua's, Liu Shipeng's, and Gao Yang's teams. These teams usually have 1 lead writer, 1 deputy writer, and 2–5 writers and assistants, with collaboration models varying by project.

2026–2027 “Upcoming Domestic Animated Series” Review

With industrial capacity scaling and platforms' central role in industry investment, the slates of the four launch events — Bilibili, Youku, iQIYI, Tencent Video — basically outline the content backbone of the animation industry over the next two years. Even with occasional surprise or stalled projects, ratings will adjust upon release, but the overall trend won't change much.

According to the Kaopu Erciyuan Industry Research Group, combining the 2025 slates of the four platforms, as of the end of February 2026, excluding year-round series on air and their special theatrical editions, 121 IPs' animated works have yet to premiere — the main force of the 2026–2027 cycle. Given platforms' differing announcement habits — some put up just a poster to pad the event, some announce only when projects reach early-mid production — this article won't break down the four platforms separately, only aggregate analysis.

In the genre most watched by the market, upcoming works are dominated by fantasy, especially urban fantasy, fantasy suspense, and fantasy-magic; over 40% of upcoming works are fantasy, with other genres containing fantasy elements too. On one hand, the new generation of web novel super-IPs skews fantasy; on the other, fantasy is a market-validated category with proven breakouts, breaking xuanhuan homogeneity. Notable upcoming projects include Shi Ri Zhong Yan, Huo Wang, Yong Bing Tian Xia, plus sequels like Link Click 3 and Zhan Shen 2.

Classic xuanhuan projects are fewer, around 23%, mainly IP sequels like A Will Eternal 4 and Full-Time Magister 7, or series-IP universe linkages under the same author, such as Battle Through the Heavens/The Great Ruler author Tiancan Tudou's Yuan Zun Year-Round Series and Wan Xiang Zhi Wang, Chen Dong (author of Perfect World and Zhe Tian)'s Sheng Xu, and Qingluan Feng Shang's Wo You Yi Jian. The core reasons are still homogeneity and fierce competition in xuanhuan year-round series — non-heavy-investment new works lack competitiveness, deterring greenlights.

In recent years, the sci-fi category of web animation has never produced a breakout hit — a shared regret of market, creators, and audiences — so all four platforms have sci-fi projects planned. Unlike the previous original-heavy slate, two-thirds of this batch of sci-fi projects are novel adaptations; whether the category can redeem itself remains to be seen. Also, sci-fi projects commonly suffer long, stalled cycles — a risk to face.

Another 20+ titles span miscellaneous genres: traditional romance/comedy/slice-of-life, school/esports/sports, supernatural/mystery, wuxia/xianxia, etc. Examples include The King's Avatar 4, Nan Hong, Cheng Ye Xiao He.

By IP source, novels still exceed 50%; original works' share rose sharply versus regular broadcast to nearly 30%, and comic adaptations are few. Several reasons: originals generally have long development cycles, making them perpetual residents of upcoming slates; and with platform strategies, insufficient adaptation IPs, and increasingly mature production teams, industry resources are tilting toward originals. But whether good stories can be told awaits the finished product.

Developing original animation and telling Chinese animators' own stories is the inevitable path of a maturing industry and a key turning point for creators establishing their styles. The biggest change in this cycle's slate: beyond companies with original animation experience, like Hanmu Chunhua, YHKT Entertainment, and Rosen Pictures, many top-tier production companies famous for adaptations are testing original projects, such as Sparkly Key Animation, Shenman Culture, Original Force, and Qingxiang Culture. On top of mature 3D industrial pipelines, whether this batch of originals becomes formulaic assembly of familiar elements or “the light of guoman” with both spirit and personality will be a key industry spectacle in coming years. How to do original stories well is the inevitable assignment of the new stage of domestic animation, and the key turning point for Chinese animators to blaze their own path.

By production format, upcoming slates are mostly 3D, more than double the 2D count. Given 2D's long production cycles and short runtimes, 3D's actual market share on air will be even higher, but premium S-level 2D and small-but-beautiful shorts will keep drawing market attention and affection. 3-render-2 has almost vanished; likely, once current sequels finish, no new projects will be greenlit.

121 upcoming IPs involve 79 production companies, with over a third of projects handled by 11 head companies. Head companies' two-year plans are basically around 4 projects each, matching expectations of stable capacity growth; they also have 1–2 year-round series, 1–2 seasonal series/theatrical editions in parallel production, plus multiple projects in pre-production — safeguarding the basic stock of sustainable development for Chinese animation.

Synthesizing the four platforms' strategies: bilibili is positioning in the female-oriented market, Youku is increasing original animation investment, iQIYI is building a grand xuanhuan IP universe, and Tencent Video drew a 10+ year pie for xuanhuan year-round series, but new works concentrate in the fantasy market. Despite differentiated strategies, the core of competition converges: the contest for premium production capacity and core creative talent.

Production companies' leverage keeps rebounding; the era of binding capacity through investment is over. Many production companies work with multiple platforms, even all four — both a choice to diversify revenue and the result of long-term mutual bargaining; after all, cases of companies being squeezed or even crushed by a single platform's owed payments are not rare. However, the same company's works perform differently across platforms: the studio's brand secures the floor of a work's quality, while the core team's ability and supervision determine the ceiling.

The “Ten Trends” of Domestic Online Animated Series in 2026

By reviewing 2025 broadcast data and the 2026–27 upcoming slate, comparing years of industry history, and drawing on years of in-depth exchanges with practitioners, Kaopu Erciyuan (WeChat ID: kpACGN) distilled the “Ten Trends” of domestic animated series for 2026, analyzed one by one against the current industry situation.

Trend One: The Key Transition from Scale to Quality

Multiple key data points in 2025 ran opposite to the past three years: title counts and minutes fell instead of rising, novel adaptation share fell instead of rising, original share rose instead of falling, new-work share rose instead of falling. Given animation's production cycles, platform policies always lag actual industry conditions somewhat; today's industry situation is the direct result of platforms' earlier cost-cutting and efficiency drive.

The animation industry's industrialized system is initially established; scale is no longer the challenge — premium quality is the core pursuit of coming years. No longer indulging in absolute quantity, the competition between platforms and production companies is over the influence and monetization of head works, and IPs' long-tail heat. Low-quality, highly homogeneous works will be eliminated or pivot to the hotter AI manga-drama track. After this round of reshuffling and transformation, the domestic animated series industry will perfect a mature IP chain of “production–operations–derivatives” and move toward the broader mass market. Content industries have strong historical cycles: from guoman's rise ten years ago, to the capital winter five years ago — in the next five years, the upswing is about to begin.

Trend Two: Internal Platform Adjustments; the Landscape May Be Reshaped

In 2025–2026, all platforms saw major internal personnel changes; shifts in mid-to-senior staff and power structures directly affect strategic pivots and determine each platform's future industry standing. Over the next 2–3 years, the animation business landscape of Bilibili, Youku, iQIYI, and Tencent Video may be reshaped.

The main opportunities are several. First, competition for new tracks amid homogeneous content: while defending the basic stock of web-novel-adapted 3D xuanhuan, which track becomes audiences' second choice — female-oriented, fantasy, sci-fi, original, or the big screen? Second, competition for S+ works: multiple year-round series of this cycle will conclude in 2027–2028; viewers' habits are formed — who inherits that demand? Theatrical editions of year-round series, new year-round series, or new seasonal series? Currently, too early to say. To retain users longer-term is building a work matrix: platform paywalls still restrict audience mobility; heavy users subscribing to all four platforms are a minority, and subscribing for one work with nothing else to watch doesn't work either — after all, piracy can't be fully cleaned up — so ideally there are both audience-acquisition works and retention works for viewing time, both demanding more capital and resources.

The underlying logic of content competition is competition for production capacity. The era of platforms binding single-line to production companies is over; even investment or acquisition ties can't outweigh companies' need for risk resistance. But core creative teams are limited, and genius parachutes are extremely rare — whoever wins over head creators secures quality assurance. At this stage, production companies' leverage will rebound, and the old problem of amateurs directing professionals will ease.

Trend Three: Original Forces Rise; Female-Oriented Works Face the Market Directly

With industrialization and mature work experience, production itself is no longer the challenge, so making originals and telling one's own stories is every content creator's natural pursuit; every platform's slate leaves windows for originals. Everyone knows originals aren't easy, yet animation audiences' expectations, tolerance, and support sometimes exceed imagination. Going forward, the domestic animated series market will surely see more and more brilliant original stories — no longer limited to small-beautiful experimental works, but also bigger, first-line investments.

Mature companies making original animation projects must consider the risk of 1–3 years of the whole team's time; may core creators decide more maturely and not over-consume creative resources and inspiration. If a completely new story isn't possible, applying some formulas isn't out of the question. Innovation can be disruptive or incremental; content is inherently a slow industry — optimization and growth matter most. Also, business models now exist, so originals must still consider monetization, to survive without depending on third parties.

Beyond original stories, female-oriented content is a topic of extremely high social attention in recent years, and a track all platforms have tacitly positioned in. Unlike traditional xuanhuan, this track demands front-loaded consideration of public-opinion risk, creative definition, and business models. Gender is a sensitive and contentious topic; some female-oriented works sparked opinion storms right after announcement, so opinion management before and after launch is crucial — don't label too early and create opposition, making good works bear infamy. While the female-oriented label naturally earns some viewers' goodwill, overusing such selling points can backfire; audiences' tolerance is limited. We do not advocate crude gender segmentation of potential viewers or presupposing opposition — otherwise harsher critical treatment follows.

Female-oriented works are also a test for creators. What exactly is female-oriented? Traditional romance, slice-of-life, cute things, the multi-hit-record BL, or big female leads? And what is a big female lead? A woman as strong as a man, a female ensemble with few male characters, or narrative and growth from a female perspective? Even the gender ratio of the creative team is a detail audiences scrutinize — how should companies coordinate internally?

Positioning in the female-oriented track, platforms and production companies, beyond chasing the trend and filling the so-called blue ocean, should consider converting women's consumption power. Women are the mainstay of IP consumption; female-oriented works must devise reasonable monetization strategies to keep long-term development opportunities and achieve a positive loop — not the cycle of “made it — got flamed — gone — lost big,” which is bad for everyone.

Trend Four: Urban Fantasy vs. Guofeng Xuanhuan — Genre Blending and Fusion

Urban fantasy is the backbone genre of every platform's slate; guofeng xuanhuan is the market's hottest mature genre. Since year-round series have carved up the xuanhuan market share, urban fantasy, which has produced recent breakouts, has become everyone's new bet, and the fantasy share will keep rising.

Worth noting: the new generation of web novel fantasy IPs — or many of the heavyweight fantasy animations in the upcoming slate — involve folklore, tomb-raiding, suspense, and other themes requiring careful handling; their creative limits and promotion models will affect broadcast results and reputation, and filter users of different ages and viewing needs. Which sub-genre of fantasy can produce the next breakout is a test for both platforms and producers.

Everyone wants to bid farewell to homogeneity, but teams' creative inertia isn't easily adjusted, so multi-genre, multi-element fusion will continue — including cross-pollination of 2D and 3D visual expression, and richer blends of fantasy and xuanhuan settings. There must be highlights to satisfy audiences' demand for novelty.

After visual and underlying-setting renewal, sound design has become the production环节 receiving increased investment in recent years. High-quality voice-acting creativity and personalized music and SFX have appeared across works, winning market and audience recognition; diverse music is part of content innovation. As an audiovisual art, animation's long-ignored “sound” is finally being heard. Domestic Animation: The Overlooked “Sound”

Trend Five: Head Effects Intensify; the Middle Tier Is Under Heavy Pressure

Cost-cutting plus long-termism led platforms to concentrate limited resources and funds on a few head works. Head effects will keep intensifying; middle-tier works face heavy cost pressure, and tail works are forced to raise quality to compete with former middle-tier works.

This is also the market's choice: scaled, homogeneous capacity created information overload, reinforcing the scarcity of head content. Users follow top IPs; the feasibility of commercialization and industry-chain operation concentrates on a few head works. Other casually-watched works no longer possess IP attributes, let alone the possibility and value of monetization through derivative development. As of now, more and more low-cost, zero-promotion surprise launches never appear on platforms' annual upcoming slates, still less in the sights of operational investment.

When distribution negotiations go well, a series can air complete, release all episodes at once with advance paid previews, and earn something. When cooperation is thin, it airs quietly without even a banner — worse off than AI manga dramas and fan creations.

Head works siphoning funds and resources carry risks too: negative opinion during broadcast gets infinitely amplified; underperforming sequels get downgraded and rescheduled. And there's the common problem facing today's most head year-round series: only by landing smoothly and concluding properly can the IP's long-term value continue; a botched ending could squander massive early investment and shrink the IP.

Trend Six: Out in the World, Your Identity Is What You Claim

Works are becoming head-concentrated, and marketing too. Under platforms' routine scheduling, average promotion windows keep shrinking — from 3 months to 1 month to 7–15 days or even surprise drops — but competition among works only intensifies with homogenization.

Promotional investment still concentrates in platforms' hands, and in the industry transition period platforms need new stories — head works are the best material. Core resources concentrate on few works; the wine is equally fragrant, the alley equally deep, so out-marketing the competition is an inevitable choice. As the saying goes, out in the world, your identity is what you claim: Jian Lai 2's year-end launch, via massive promotion, self-proclaimed itself “king of series,” successfully sitting at the same table as classic year-round series A Record of a Mortal's Journey to Immortality and Renegade Immortal for audiences to compare; despite negative buzz over plagiarism and incomprehensibility, it kept its core fandom actively recruiting new viewers across social media.

At this stage, animation promotion still relies heavily on word-of-mouth and user initiative; pre-launch warm-up and audience mindshare cultivation are especially important — “positioning” a work well looks great on the surface. Works that get as much platform money and love as Jian Lai are a minority; as a success case, Jian Lai marks animation marketing entering a new stage of “defining a work's identity” through high-intensity resource investment and topic operations.

Many platforms and animation companies are conservative, shy of touting their works and achievements, let alone proactive marketing. In truth, most viewers' judgment is limited and their viewing volume isn't that large — only with promotion is there a chance to be remembered a little fondly. Relying quietly on fan loyalty and organic advocacy over-tests both, is hard in today's market, and betrays the efforts of hundreds of production staff. With mouths of one's own, whether and how to speak is becoming a key competitive metric of the industry's new stage — the market, platforms, and creative teams all need positive feedback.

​**Forbrand promotioncooperation, contactKaopu Erciyuan & Kaopu Gamebusiness contact: Qiesi (WeChat: kp_ACG)**

Trend Seven: No More Fear of AI; AIGC Tool Use Becomes Normalized

Technology's leaps startle and delight, and inevitably cause anxiety. AI's impact on the domestic animation industry is slowly shifting from all-negative. The mass market's rising acceptance of AI means AI use is no longer reviled, and animation companies needn't hide their experiments with and accommodations of new technology. On social media, users' evaluation of AI-using works is slowly shifting from “it used AI — avoid!” to “using AI is normal; admitting it and using it sensibly is understandable.”

For animation creators, normalized AIGC tool use both raises efficiency and breaks mental ruts, yielding new results. Actively embracing technological progress is a key reason China's 3D animation industry developed so rapidly in recent years, leaping to the world's front ranks.

Of course, the media's talk of change faces enormous resistance and talent gaps in the actual capital-heavy animation industry; a boss saying “we're all in on AIGC” doesn't retool the pipeline overnight. Tool iteration, talent learning, platform recognition, audience acceptance all take time — only that time is shrinking fast, and the window for normalized application is drawing near. What animation creators should consider more is how to counter the uniformity of AI content generation — combining their own production experience to produce content with personal advantage and character amid highly similar information.

As AI tools' entry barriers fall, for platforms and production companies, how to handle the copyright issues of netizens' AI derivative creations right now is more urgent than whether or how to use AI themselves.

Trend Eight: IP Licensing Development — New Opportunities and New Challenges

As trendy toys and merch economies cool from fad to normal consumption, IP licensing has become the more solid business model. IP collaborations permeate every industry, and the market will keep growing in coming years. On one hand, domestic content now has enough head content assets that qualify as IPs, each mapping to different consumer profiles; on the other, more and more brands recognize the value of domestic IPs, making IP collaboration a cost-effective marketing event.

With platforms' cost-cutting and intensifying head concentration of content, IP licensing is both a new opportunity and new challenge for rights holders. Whether licensing revenue can feed back into content and commerce becomes a key factor determining an IP's life cycle. Though most middle-tier content lacks IP attributes, the rights holder's commercialization capability is the biggest factor. Short-term, IP licensing remains a platform-business-led industry link; professional licensing intermediaries and execution companies are equally suited to handle this on behalf of producers.

For production companies — especially amid shrinking platform budgets and resources tilting toward originals — it's time to rethink how animation works monetize. Working for love and being limited to production fees can't grow the industry; commercialization is nothing shameful. We believe that within ten years, every company and practitioner who makes good animation can earn a living from the cause they love.

Trend Nine: Creative Contest Under High Public-Opinion Pressure

Social media is too developed; public opinion gives creative teams feedback that is fast and sharp, and pressure spikes. When a carefully crafted work premieres, everyone wants to see audience reactions, hoping positive feedback fuels persistence and overtime — reading the comment section and bullet comments under one's own work after broadcast is a habit of many production staff.

Sometimes people can hardly understand each other: perhaps the creators' conception was good but the execution mediocre; or the creators meant A while audiences understood B; or no matter what the creators do, audiences are unsatisfied… These situations happen widely. Many creators engage willingly, opening personal accounts or livestreams, falling into spirals of self-justification; many engage passively, being asked by platforms and rights holders to adjust, or even being doorblocked by irrational fans at the office, doxxed, or mailed razor blades.

Animation is getting more popular, with audiences trending younger and more fandom-like; the problems are more complex than imagined. How to manage audience communication and opinion guidance is a shared challenge for creative and operations teams in coming years. Audience feedback can't be ignored — subjective creation has limits — but not all feedback can be heeded, since creators need their own convictions and creative autonomy, and some comments really are just laypeople's offhand remarks. Creators' mental health also needs attention: depression, anxiety, and sleep disorders are common among practitioners; if the creative process itself isn't joyful, it's hard to convey energy, joy, and passion through animation and heal more viewers.

Facing opinion controversies, there are more extreme approaches too: in recent years some platforms and creators' opinion-guidance tactics were rather malicious — obviously plagiarizing yet denying it, even livestreaming to direct fandom cyberbullying against audience members who raised questions, causing negative impact on the work.

Trend Ten: Stable Talent Base; Scarce Versatile Talent

Overall, the animation industry's talent base is fairly stable: despite mobility, most core talent stays deep in creation, continuously producing works and polishing quality. With the industry's breakout into the mass market, fresh blood keeps joining.

Worth noting: while the director-centered production model persists, the separation of director and screenwriter roles has become increasingly evident in recent years, including reverse experiments of screenwriters taking director seats — especially in 3D, where industrial pipelines are mature. This helps let professionals do professional work, gives more people chances to participate in core creation, and reduces work risk.

Though industry survival-of-the-fittest continues, platforms' demand for and investment in AI manga dramas absorbed some low-to-mid-tier animation capacity and talent, giving many people and companies the chance to transition smoothly rather than face survival crises from cost-cutting and head concentration.

Industry demand for high-quality works and multi-model commercialization is rising, and so is the gap for versatile talent. The market needs more people who understand both script and visuals, both creation and business, both aesthetics and technology, working in concert. The establishment of commercialization models and increased original investment will strengthen the appeal to versatile talent.

8.7→8.0, why is China's most luxurious animation short film project no longer a phenomenon this time?

· 23 min read
This article is republished with permission from “动画学术趴”\nAuthor / Yu Shuangren
Editor / Pel
Layout / Rinz

“While observing and expressing the present, offering the most genuine empathy and comfort”

On February 19, 《Chinese Chimerica 2》 officially concluded, locking in a Douban score of 8.0 and over 73 million views on Bilibili. However, compared to Season 1's 8.7 rating and its explosive popularity across the internet, this season's ripple effect on social media seems far smaller, with no shortage of harsh voices in the comments.

The author previously wrote an article outlining three characteristics that define excellent domestic supernatural folklore short films(“folklore flavor”), namely: stories drawn from classical texts, emphasizing the “strange” and “fantastic”, creation featuring art styles that fuse ethnic characteristics, and an aesthetic pursuit of saying more with less. The article concluded by expressing anticipation for this creative direction:

But 《Goose Goose Goose》 used its viral success to remind everyone that we can indeed make animated shorts with ethnic charm, and there truly is a large audience of enthusiastic viewers waiting for these works.
Even today, the 1981 《The Taoist Monk from Laoshan》 remains a benchmark in the industry in terms of artistic depth and production details.
What exactly is the ethnic style we pursue — over forty years have passed, and it's time this question found its answer.

Academic Pai Editorial Team, WeChat: 动画学术趴Folklore Supernatural “Dark and Gritty” — Does Chinese Animation Have a Promising Future This Way?

Now, three years have passed. With 《The Little Monster of Langlang Mountain》 and numerous domestic animated features paving the way, it's worth taking this opportunity to discuss: does this season's 《Chinese Chimerica 2》 live up to the expectations of audiences and fans? Is the “folklore flavor” of these works strong enough? How well do they align with the “Chinese Chimerica” theme and the creative motto “wondrous realms of the strange, myriad minds of the mundane”? And do they truly express an authentic ethnic style?

Allow me to be playful here — the following will rank the nine episodes of 《Chinese Chimerica 2》 from “hit” to “miss” to discuss the above topics.

Of course, a disclaimer is needed before going into details: as general director Chen Liaoyu noted, 《The Little Monster of Langlang Mountain》 as a project launch was nearly contemporaneous with 《Chinese Chimerica》, meaning there's an inherent time lag between the creators' production cycle and audience expectations. Creators' predictions and intentions can hardly — and cannot — respond “on command” to every comment. At most, audience expectations and feedback interact with creators at the level of production details; the two remain relatively independent perspectives.

Therefore, the author maintains an overall attitude of tolerance and encouragement toward domestic animated shorts (episodes). The ranking and interpretations below are merely personal perspectives — said with all due humility and taken with a grain of salt. (Also: contains minor spoilers, but not many.

01 The Hits and the Best​

《Echo in the Ear》《Light Snow》《Mountain Pilgrimage》
《Echo in the Ear》(Episode 2):Liaozhai Strikes Again!

Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio is truly a “gold mine” for domestic supernatural animation. Director Hu Rui this time selected the eponymous story “Echo in the Ear” (from the Qingkɔtíng woodblock edition, Volume 15).

The story is quite simple: the protagonist Tan Jinyuan firmly believes in the art of guidance (Daoist health cultivation, also described as qigong), practicing day and night, until one day he feels a small inch-tall yaksha-like figure crawl out of his ear. Neighbors suspect he's gone mad, but he gradually recovers.

The animation's plot, however, is far richer, clearly also drawing from “The Pupil Voices” (Volume 1), another anecdote about strange occurrences in the facial organs:

The scholar Fang Dong is punished for harassing behavior and goes blind in both eyes. He reforms his ways and cultivates virtue, and eventually notices strange sounds arising from his eyes — two small figures emerge from his eye sockets, pass through his nasal cavity, and go out into the world together. In the end, though one eye remains lifeless, Fang Dong gains a double-pupiled eye and his vision is restored.

The director revealed that the detail of the ear-being going to the courtyard to see the blooming night-blooming cereus upon emerging was inspired by “The Pupil Voices”: the two pupil dwellers, cooped up by Fang Dong's blindness, take a stroll to dispel their boredom, and the first thing they say upon returning is: “Not having visited the garden pavilion for some time, the pearl orchids have withered and died of neglect.”

Combining the two source stories with the final presentation, Echo in the Ear's thematic core does not deviate from director Hu Rui's long-held philosophy: stripping away the original texts' heavier worldliness satire and moral edification, what truly resonates with contemporary audiences in classical supernatural anecdotes remains the ontological questioning of self and existence.

Why does the ear-being appear? What does it do after coming into the world? What exactly does the scholar fight against? Is the scholar truly enlightened in the end? These questions — like the peddler's predicament in 《Goose Goose Goose》 — have no clear answers, yet they foster those moments worth savoring repeatedly: those moments of truly witnessing the blooming of the night-blooming cereus.

As an animated short, Echo in the Ear's most ingenious expressive device is its soundscape (soundscape), woven tightly with the theme.

Of course, the author is not here to discuss academic definitions, but simply to emphasize the film's excellence in creating atmosphere through sound. In other words, even without considering the visuals, Echo in the Ear — through layers of sound with varying depth, volume, and timbre — already delivers a remarkably immersive “ventriloquism” performance.

From this perspective, this creative approach is itself rooted in Chinese folk art traditions — not to mention its incorporation of the Mudan Ting (Peony Pavilion) “Garden Outing” aria, puppet theater aesthetics, and deft use of traditional five colors. Within a 22-minute synesthetic space, the creator's imagination and the audience's sensibility collide and spill over — this is what is meant by “seeking marvels beyond the image, expressing the vitality of motion, and writing the profound and wondrous thought.”

General director Chen Liaoyu revealed that the crackling of the candle flame in the opening scene is the softest sound audible in the film, requiring suitable external conditions and headphones to catch.

Taking off the headphones and returning to reality, amid the many interpretive details from creators and audiences alike, the myriad faces of humanity gradually emerge.

Compared to Goose Goose Goose, Echo in the Ear has a far less eerie quality and a stronger sense of playful strangeness. Perhaps this marks a shift in creative mindset — after all, in the end, one must come to terms with the ear-dweller within and the thoughts of the heart.

The ear-being's design is indeed quite cute — no wonder netizens think it looks like a mosquito
《Light Snow》(Episode 4):What Is Ethnic Style?

As the only stop-motion piece in the series and the work with the strongest authorial voice, the author makes no secret of favoring Light Snow. For behind-the-scenes details and craft processes, readers can consult Animation Academic Pai's latest interview (Hardcore Behind-the-Scenes | How Did the First Wool-Felt Stop-Motion Animation in Chinese Chimerica Depict the Oppression and Weirdness of a Chinese Family?) — no need to repeat here.

Continuing the interpretation of Echo in the Ear, I'd like to revisit the question of “ethnic style.”

Light Snow was created by a team led by director Chen Lianhua, as was the previous Chinese Chimerica: Small Full. The emphasis on “team” is because Chen Lianhua's earlier works bore a more distinctly personal stylistic exploration.

In 2008, Chen Lianhua and An Xu's collaborative “Solar Term” (Solar Term) series debuted with Winter Solstice. It had a distinctly Flash-era animation style, but precisely because of the simplicity and concision that came with that production method, it aligned beautifully with flat graphic art aesthetics. The two creators subsequently turned toward traditional flat folk arts like New Year paintings and shadow puppetry, producing later entries in the “Solar Term” series. By the time of Grain Rain and Heat Stopping, they began borrowing the spatial expression of scroll painting (traditional Chinese painting), such as fixed camera positions and long takes, and developed the use of looping shots.

By the time audiences saw 《Chinese Chimerica: Small Full》, this style had shifted subtly: not only did it move from the creators' familiar computer animation to handcrafted paper-cut, wool-felt, and other multi-form stop-motion — a “2.5-dimensional” approach — but it also turned thematically toward a child's perspective and intergenerational family dynamics.

Yet this change manifested in the work as an aesthetic maturation. On one hand, the renewed team collaboration brought more collisions and new possibilities; on the other hand, whether it's the bilu and konghou of Tang-era court music or the lacquer-painted gold-foil technique and the compositions of framed scenes and symmetry, Small Full embodies a further development of the “Solar Term” series' established aesthetic — ultimately presenting a refined, richly layered ethnic art style bearing the marks of collective creation.

In Light Snow, this style becomes even more understated.

There's no dialogue voiceover at all; the plot is conveyed solely through the puppets' movements, the score, and minimal transitional subtitle cards. This silent-film-like approach — where less is more — leaves ample room for interpretation. The production team also mentioned in a podcast conversation the important influence of 《The Goddess》 (starring Ruan Lingyu) on their filming; a careful comparison of Mother Light Snow's expressions and gestures reveals echoes of it.

The production team Lilipu revealed that, to better recreate the somersault movement here, they brought in a real stunt performer for motion reference

The handwritten medical records, the landscape-painting-style sets and compositions carry on the established visual language — serene as moonlight on snow, calm and composed, revealing nothing overtly. This also echoes the theme: a wounded heart needs heart medicine; Chinese parent-child relationships must ultimately move toward “separation of tasks,” returning to that restrained, understated optimal distance — wanting closeness but willing to let go.

Light Snow thus fully achieves a distilled style — an artistic expression born of ethnic tradition and lived reality, maintaining a certain aesthetic distance from the audience. And this may well be one of the ideal effects Chinese Chimerica aspires to.

No spoilers, but that turn-around shot is an absolute killer
《Mountain Pilgrimage》(Episode 7):How Adults Learn to Say Goodbye

Mountain Pilgrimage is a work that genuinely dazzles — not just for its high-saturation color palette, but for its modern treatment of the classic theme of nostalgia and its perfectly pitched emotional expression.

At first glance, Mountain Pilgrimage shares a thematic affinity with Season 1's 《The Country Bus Took Away Wang Hai'er and the Immortals》 — both seem to depict that “place of return” that exists only in stories passed down by the elders. But The Country Bus looks back at a homeland traversed barefoot in youth, while Mountain Pilgrimage looks back at a lost, invented tradition.

“Bai Shan” (mountain pilgrimage) is a term used in the Guangxi and Guangdong regions — especially among Hakka communities — for ancestral tomb-visiting rituals. The entire work employs large amounts of Hakka and Cantonese (vernacular) dialogue, telling the story of Ayuan, a midlife-crisis “Hong Kong drifter” who, after returning home for a mountain pilgrimage, experiences a visionary trance and undergoes a profound shift in mindset.

The narrative structure is simple, and the protagonist's transformation is naturally motivated: the visions he witnesses and his bond with his grand-aunt Bai Po and elder uncle completely reshape Ayuan's understanding of “home.” By the short's end, Ayuan invites his father to visit Hong Kong, rediscovering his true connection to his hometown and family.

Many viewers were surely moved to tears by Bai Po's line, “Eat well, sleep well.” Mountain Pilgrimage indeed fully expresses a shift in many contemporary creators' sensibilities: as we approach the age where we must confront “goodbye” head-on, the “old folk traditions” we once avoided become, through artistic reinvention, a form of imagination and solace — a kind of cyber-nostalgia. Increasingly urgently, we reach for whatever connection we can grasp between ourselves and the faraway.

For most ordinary people, it's the Odyssey-like cycle of leaving home combined with the deep-rooted cultural yearning for “home” in Chinese tradition that creates such resonance with these themes. As the creative team put it, rituals exist to solve the problems of the living; we keep looking back because the road ahead is uncertain.

Artistically, Mountain Pilgrimage displays remarkable expressive power. The colors and dialects speak for themselves, and the theme song “Fragrant Flowers” draws from the “Fragrant Flower Buddhist Rites” popular in Meizhou, Guangdong — a genre whose chants encompass poetry, mountain songs, and rhymed recitations, interweaving chant and song, movement and dance.

The lyrics of “Fragrant Flowers” continue this tradition: “The world's affairs are vast and uncertain / Like a dream within a single night in Nanke” — echoing the animation's visionary adventures while reflecting that widely cherished “ancestral” wisdom of life and philosophy.

In other words, we still yearn for a flourishing of regionally distinct creativity, just as we still yearn for a family atmosphere, a social climate, and life ideals defined by acceptance above judgment.

02 The Contenders​

《How to Become Three Dragons》《The Big Benefactor》
《How to Become Three Dragons》(Episode 1)

As the season opener, Three Dragons faced pressure far exceeding any other work — that much is beyond doubt. Its narrative choice to lean toward the market-tested “underdog story” structure is therefore quite understandable.

Within the internal lineage of Chinese Chimerica, this perspective continues from Season 1's Summer of the Little Monster and The Little Monster of Langlang Mountain. In terms of character design details, the three local little snakes (based on the big-eye rat snake, beauty rat snake, and green leaf snake) owe more to Three Monks (Ah Da) and Nezha Conquers the Sea.

But “you can't have it all” — which means Three Dragons faces genuine difficulty in breaking new ground, and much of the controversy centers exactly there.

In some sense, our repeated telling of the same story about commoner heroes precisely reveals our continued “lack” of such genuine commoner heroes.

This anxiety and longing also form an intertextual resonance with this season's Today's Zoo — looking up, there are those in power who are negligent, and true heroes who are knocked back down; looking down, everyone is repeatedly disciplined and treated like draft animals, nameless and faceless. Within this circular logic, individual action ultimately brings no substantive change, even contradicting the “people's view of history” that barrage comments celebrate.

Even when the work leaves an emotional escape hatch, it often still falls into the form of an “open ending.”

Of course, this issue shouldn't be laid at the creators' feet. An allegory pointing at reality is, after all, just a story — a side reflection of a contemporary symptom, a question none of us has fully thought through: if everyone wants to be “the people,” then who are the three dragons?

《The Big Benefactor》(Episode 9)

The Big Benefactor is also part of the Chinese Chimerica series, sharing the same urban-spirit world as Season 1's The Little Convenience Store. Overall, it's one of the season's few heartwarming gems — as down-to-earth and relatable as its predecessor.

The husband-and-wife duo Gu Yang and Liu Kuang teamed up again. The old man at the hutong convenience store (uncannily resembling actor Niu Ben) faces a new challenge, and his old spirit friends rally to help — but in the end, it's the old man himself who pulls out sincerity as his ultimate move. In short, this episode uses playful artistic creation to depict intergenerational support and elder care, tackling life and solving real problems with whimsical, magical means.

Technically, The Big Benefactor also refines its predecessor's approach, placing greater emphasis on the soak-and-bleed quality of ink-wash painting, and imitating hand-painted brushstrokes to create a visual style that shifts from the concrete to the ethereal.

Watching it, I was reminded of the Falling to the Stars screenwriter Kang Fu's Strange Tales from the Chao Yang South Road — likewise urban spirit tales set in Beijing, equally concise and delightful. To wonder whether spirits exist or whether magic works is far too adult a pursuit. These little spirits are charming precisely because they can coexist “harmlessly” with humans, embodying the animist reverence of those of us who believe in them.

“Wishing you all the best.”

03 The NPCs​

《The Great Bird》(Episode 6)

One-line quick review — a brutal yet tender heavy-industrial dark fairy tale; the art deserves to be framed frame by frame.

The Great Bird's story isn't hard to grasp: with enough patience, most viewers can tell this is a dark, cruel fairy tale. Browsing director Du Pengpeng's social media, his own tags read “new Chinese dark fairy tale” and “poetic ghost aesthetics of sorrow.”

To summarize via the director's creative journey, The Great Bird's core message is “through a unique tone tinged with sorrow and grief, to express the protection of innocent beauty and resistance against oppressive reality.” And in its final visual form, The Great Bird indeed exhibits a “refined imperfection.”

The molehe (muhoula) figure (磨侯罗) runs through the entire work as a motif — a symbol of pure innocence. This child's-eye view of brutal survival themes recalls Season 1's Lingling and the multi-award-winning Wild Animals. But The Great Bird is heavier; the historical subtext and meditations on human nature entangled within make it more ambiguous and polysemous, which can leave audiences struggling to grasp every detail.

《Today's Zoo》(Episode 3)

One-line hot take: a tidy, well-executed assignment piece — ideal for the nine-to-five crowd(in the broadest sense) to leave heartbroken barrage comments while scarfing down airport food, mourning the other road not taken.

This is probably the season's most reality-oriented, most “workplace-toxic” work.

The mockumentary fable already declares what the creative team wants to say, so no need to elaborate. The Robert Frost poem (Robert Frost) “The Road Not Taken” (The Road Not Taken) has long been a fixture of Chinese middle-school textbooks; ideally, it should plant a seed of insight in every teenager before they formally step into society.

There's a lighter behind-the-scenes anecdote worth mentioning: the various dialect voices in the zoo were mostly voiced by this season's directors themselves, emphasizing that the animals come from all corners of the country while also tempering the work's relatively heavy main tone. As for “what's in the zoo” and “where's the forest” — well, the predicament is similar to Three Dragons: which character, exactly, do you project onto from the other side of the screen?

《Sanlang》(Episode 5)

One-line hot take: in terms of color, it knows what makes it work; in terms of narrative, it doesn't quite know what makes it work.

Sanlang tells a story of “breaking obsession” — a quintessential Western-movie narrative: no-man's land, the Yardang ghost city, and martial-arts heroes. Sanlang's tiger-head helmet design references the animal-faced hoods of Tang dynasty warrior tomb figurines, extracting red and yellow as paired colors to underscore the character's personality. Its scene design and color application are both commendable — especially the rendering of gobi terrain, dune vistas, and mirrored otherworldly visions. It could honestly serve as a nice promotional short for northwest landscapes (bushi.

By comparison, the storytelling lags a bit — overall a fairly predictable story of self-discovery and breaking inner obsessions set in a generic martial-arts world.

Left: Tang dynasty warrior figurine in the Palace Museum collection; right: close-up of Sanlang's tiger-head helmet
《Xingtian》(Episode 8)

One-line hot take: a commendable attempt at an anti-hero narrative — bold, can be wild, but not quite necessary.

Xingtian tells the “prehistory” of the eponymous mythological figure — the story before and after he is decapitated. The director's interview mentions a perspective of “a tiger's heart that pauses to smell the roses,” but in the final product, even adding tribal and mythological backdrops, Xingtian remains a fairly traditional heroic elegy; the fusion of ancient and modern is hard to call seamless.

That said, the episode's visual style deserves attention — for instance, using motion capture to highlight the choreography's physical expressiveness, thereby precisely reconstructing a primal life force: “When emotion stirs within, it takes form in words”; “When song proves insufficient, the hands and feet begin to move unbidden.”

04 Concluding Thoughts​

After a series of plainly opinionated reviews, I'd like to return to the most fundamental question: How should “Chinese” and “Chimerica” be read?

Zhou Zuoren once said, “The emotions and thoughts of the Chinese people are concentrated on ghosts,” and “to understand China, one must study its customs and rituals.” This is easy to understand, and it's one reason more and more artistic works are turning toward commemorating things that have passed.

As an animated short, Chinese Chimerica burst onto the scene in 2023, using formal lightness and innovation to temper this deep gravity rooted in ethnicity and reality. But The Little Monster of Langlang Mountain feature film and this second season have perhaps moved closer to that gravity.

In this light, whether mythology, ethnicity, and contemporaneity can find a harmonious point; how better to transform obscure allusions into animated works where imagery and aesthetics unify; and how to observe the present and express reality while offering the most genuine empathy and comfort — these remain questions for creators to ponder in the years ahead.

As for audiences' feelings and impressions, time will ultimately provide the answers.

References: [Japanese] Maruo Tsuneyoshi: The Tangle of ‘Human’ and ‘Ghost’ — Analyses of Lu Xun's Novels, trans. Qin Gong, People's Literature Publishing House, 1995.

Lilipu Casual Chat: From Chinese Chimerica to Zootopia: Our Year-End Review of Stop-Motion Animation Production, https://www.xiaoyuzhoufm.com/episode/698a9c8766e2c30377bd977c
Taikang Art Museum: Lecture Replay | Chen Lianhua: Personal Experiences in the Development of Individual Animation in China in the 21st Century, https://b23.tv/3k7GsJB
Golden Horse Online Cinema: 〈Solar Terms〉 Works by Chen Lianhua and An Xu, https://virtual.goldenhorse.org.tw/collection/%E3%80%88%E7%AF%80%E6%B0%A3%E3%80%89%E7%B3%BB%E5%88%97-%E9%99%B3%E8%93%AE%E8%8F%AF%E3%80%81%E5%AE%89%E6%97%AD%E4%BD%9C%E5%93%81%E9%9B%86/
Guangdong Provincial Cultural Center: Fragrant Flower Memorial Rites, http://www.gdsqyg.com/agdfyzg/mingluinfo?mlproid=2023062718927645
The Palace Museum: Yellow-Glazed Warrior Figurine, https://www.dpm.org.cn/Uploads/wenhua/E5/part2-02.htm
“One Malt Three Connections”: A Conversation with the General Director of Chinese Chimerica — On the Cultural Code Behind Classic National Animation and Future Visions, https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1pYcezQE7J/

Why Do These Spine-Chilling Chinese "Ghost" Animes Have a Particular Fondness for This Region?

· 20 min read
This article is republished with permission from “Donghua Xueshu Pa”\nAuthor / Baoyi
Editor / Pel
Layout / Rinz

“Each took root in South China, yet each left South China — and spoke of South China — in different ways.”

It is common for creative inspirations to collide, but it is a curious coincidence when animated works of the same “ghost story” genre enter the audience’s view one after another within the same period, each sparking its own share of discussion.

The series 《谷围南亭》 (The Last Dynasty), the film 《世外》 (Another World), and the short 《拜山》 (Hakka Dream) in Yao-Chinese Folktales 2 are precisely this absurdly coincidental set of “ghost-story animation” triplets.

The first to meet the audience was The Last Dynasty, based on Mo Fei’s manga of the same name, produced by Tencent Video and Kuaikan Manhua, and animated by Two Ten Animation in Wuhan. The work had already built up a following during its manga serialization; since the animation premiered on September 30, 2025, it has drawn in even more fans with its high-caliber production and promotional push.

Then, on October 29, 2025, Another World, directed by Wu Qizhong and produced and written by Yang Baowen, was released in Hong Kong and Macau. Hailed as the pride of Hong Kong animation since the “McDull” series, it has been described as “seven years in the making, with production quality closing in on Hollywood and Japanese standards.” While claiming the “No. 1 spot in Hong Kong film history for locally made animated films,” it also earned acclaim from many quarters.

Earlier this year, Hakka Dream was met with great acclaim as soon as it aired.

Co-directed by Zhang Junjie and Zhou Xu, this work takes the Hakka “bai shan” custom of the Heyuan region of Guangdong as its main thread. Though it runs only a little over twenty minutes, its art direction, which interweaves a sense of everyday life with fantasy, and its plainspoken interpretation of the two emotional motifs of “homeland” and “ancestors” not only resonated widely with audiences but also added a touch of South China character to Yao-Chinese Folktales.

Yet if we examine them more closely from the angles of visual imagery, production environment, and marketing tactics, the three are worlds apart. Another World takes “the knots in people’s hearts” as its starting point, striving to tell a story of universal value and to fuse exotic cultural elements from around the globe into its own art style — yet it cannot leave behind, or escape, that illusory localist complex.

Hakka Dream is the opposite. Although the work wears regional folk custom on its surface, as co-director Zhou Xu said, the South’s “bai shan” and the North’s “tomb sweeping” are hardly different. With one light tap, the story cuts straight into the softest part of the audience’s hearts.

Between these two modes of “surface/interior” inversion, The Last Dynasty, in turn, sits at the intersection most emblematic of animation industry standards.

In this quasi-danmei, dual-male-lead story built on the pun “gǔ+weí=guǐ,” Gao Ying, a freshman who has just arrived at the fine arts academy to register for the new semester, unexpectedly meets Gua’erjia Yinting, the “Prince of the South” who has kept solitary watch over the place for more than three hundred years. With handsome, stylish characters, a plot full of twists and turns, plus historical ghost stories and urban legends... The Last Dynasty has become, inside and out, a highly symbolizable consumer commodity.

This article uses my field notes as a medium and, with the anthropological framework of constructing “collective imagination” as its guiding thread, unpacks these three ghost-story animations that are “similar in form but far apart in intent.”

01 The Newly Invented “Hong Kong Animation”​

“Imagined Communities” and “The Invention of Tradition” are classic concepts in nationalism studies and historiography. Simply put, communities, ethnic groups, regions, and nations can all be understood as communities constructed at the cognitive level. What cements this narrative are all the people who believe in its surface reflections, emotional value, and even political significance.

“Invented tradition,” then, becomes the concrete means of establishing these “communities” that feel real. After all, when old ways of life are still vigorous, there is no need to revive or invent tradition; new “traditions” are usually invented not because old methods have failed, but because people deliberately stop using or adapting them. China’s Spring Festival Gala and Japan’s Kōhaku Uta Gassen, for example, are two classic cases in contemporary East Asian popular culture studies.

Therefore, Another World’s struggle between surface and interior stems chiefly from its reinvention of “Hong Kong animation”: a thing long believed to have declined and to be in urgent need of rescue.

This atmosphere inevitably calls to mind the recent quips in Hong Kong about Hong Kong singers or the Hong Kong music scene being “dead.” The difference is that the former unconsciously participates in inventing history, while the latter attempts to carry history forward through self-mockery and self-rescue.

Cover of the single “The Music Industry Is Dead”

Historically, Hong Kong animation, though less renowned than Hong Kong cinema, has had its share of highlights. Taking “non-live-action films made with Hong Kong creators/teams at the core” as examples: The Flower Princess(1957), Master Q(1981), A Chinese Ghost Story: The Tsui Hark Animation(1997), Storm Rider: Clash of Evils(2008), No. 7 Cherry Lane(2019), and the most famous and long-lived “McDull” series(2001-2016), are all representative works.

However, the history of Hong Kong animation is also a discontinuous narrative inseparable from the struggle over the right to define “Hong Kong animation.”

From the 1950s to the present, due to geographic and social resource constraints, Hong Kong has never had a complete animation industry chain. Therefore, animations led by Hong Kong creators/teams have either been “independent, purely hand-made” works within limited conditions, or “end products” assembled from resources gathered from around the world. The 2019 short film Another World was the former; the 111-minute feature now in theaters is the latter.

End credits of My Life as McDull

But the biggest contradiction of Another World lies in this: the more it subjectively wants, through the fusion of global cultural imagery, to present a story of universal value, the more it is swept along by an unconscious localist tendency.

First, the story of Another World is not complicated. Its inspiration came from producer-screenwriter Yang Baowen’s time living in Beijing, and it then used Japanese author Naka Saijo’s novel The Thousand-Year Demon as its blueprint. It tells of a thousand-year cycle in which Gudo, a little ghost serving as a soul guide, meets a girl named Yuri at a transit station for the dead called “Another World,” and gradually guides her to let go of the attachments of her past life and be reborn smoothly.

Yang Baowen said that at the time she lived near Joy City in Chaoyang on the North Fourth Ring Road, often passing an intersection without traffic lights and watching pedestrians and vehicles jostle and rage past one another, she came up with the idea of giving concrete form to “anger, heart-knots, and karma.” Later, she found the framework of The Thousand-Year Demon and filled it with her own vision.

But from a screenwriting perspective, the writers did not tell well a story that could have been interpreted with great breadth and tension. Through one round of promotional amplification after another, what the film’s creative team kept repeating and emphasizing ultimately came down to the line: “making animation that belongs to Hong Kong is a heart-knot shared by all Hong Kong animators.”

Using a “rope knot” to embody the “heart knot”

Second, because the “Another World” setting is not a gloomy hell but a colorful, physics-transcending alternate dimension, the film’s creators always say when explaining the art design: all the elements are fused together... The character designs and story backgrounds of Another World are not attributed to any specific country or cultural elements; they merely adopt the style of a corresponding era and its cultural atmosphere.

In this regard, the film’s art director Zhang Xiaota summarized: “I wouldn’t dare say this is the Hong Kong style, because Hong Kong itself has no clear stylistic framework.” Director Wu Qizhong also stressed that a working environment centered on Hong Kong creators and linked to animation teams around the world can make Another World’s worldview bigger and broader.

But when the actual production circumstances of Another World are marginalized by the media and audiences, all we can see again are phrases and slogans such as “Hong Kong people’s pride,” “Hong Kong animation must not sink any further,” “Hong Kong animated films win glory internationally,” and “Hong Kong can make great animated films too.”

Still from Another World

And although few animated features would claim that they were “easy to make,” the “woe-is-me” tactic is often ruled ineffective. But if the purpose of publicizing “arduous production” is merely to redraw a rallying target called “Hong Kong animation” and to raise one’s arms shouting “So Hong Kong does have animation after all!” — rather than carefully tracing “what Hong Kong animation is” — it ultimately leaves one uneasy.

Such intentions are understandable, and Another World is not an isolated case. But if you ask: do you like this kind of public-discussion atmosphere? Every film-watching friend of mine confesses without exception: I just don’t like it.

02 Bai Shan, Tomb Sweeping, Homeland, Ancestors​

Unlike Another World, which from the very start borrows the shell of foreign cultures and dissolves specific regional elements on its surface, Hakka Dream completely reverses this “surface/interior” relationship.

To go further, Another World’s approach fits modern capitalism’s shaping of globalized imagery and suits the temperament of Hong Kong as an international metropolis. But clearly, this is a spiritual path different from the one that traces its origins to the Shanghai Animation Film Studio and advocates “exploring the national style.” By comparison, Tsui Hark’s A Chinese Ghost Story: The Tsui Hark Animation, which draws on a Chinese classical novel, is closer to the latter; Tsui himself has mentioned the profound influence that the Shanghai Animation Film Studio’s works had on him.

Still from the 1997 animation A Chinese Ghost Story: The Tsui Hark Animation

Back to Hakka Dream.

True to its Chinese title, this is a story about the traditional South China folk custom of “bai shan.” Yet the connotation and denotation of “bai shan,” like an onion being peeled, keep expanding outward through layer-by-layer dismantling.

The outermost layer is the folk-custom imagery and direct behavior tied to a specific region. For example, the Hakka architecture (ancestral houses), the dishes (stuffed bitter melon, stuffed tofu, egg-parcel casserole), the three sacrificial offerings (chicken, fish, pork), the language, and the various details of the bai shan process (climbing the hill, clearing weeds, burning incense, weighing down spirit money, laying out offerings, etc.) shown in the film. The creators have also mentioned this on many occasions.

And although South China itself has subtle variations — “customs differ within a hundred li” — because the suckling pig is an essential offering, the film not only abounds in “pig” elements but also turns the protagonist A-Yuan into a “suckling pig” outright.

Peeling further, it connects “bai shan” with “tomb sweeping,” thereby achieving resonance with the wider public.

In fact, bai shan in South China during Qingming or Chongyang is not purely about commemorating one’s ancestors; it is more like a family gathering. As shown in the film, clansmen and kin scattered in different places gather on their native soil and reconnect with one another. Besides bai shan, activities such as “kinship reunions” and “clan association meetings” are also frequently held in qiaoxiang, the hometowns of overseas Chinese. In this way, the film also brings out the ancestral-hall and clan culture of contemporary Chinese society, which is “prosperous in the South and weak in the North.”

Therefore, whether in the film’s promotion or in behind-the-scenes sharing, the production side first puts forward the explanation that “bai shan means tomb sweeping,” to lower the audience’s comprehension cost. In this way, whether it is the northern colloquial “shangfen,” the “baibai” of the Fujian-Taiwan region, or various other regional expressions, all can be generalized into a popular consensus based on historical tradition.

Still from the 1998 animation Grandma and Her Ghosts

The innermost layer, then, is the emotional connection to “homeland” and “ancestors.” With this layer of connection, folk custom, as a popular consensus, can convey cultural meaning of more universal value — it belongs to the Chinese people, to Chinese communities worldwide, and to humanity itself.

Chen Liaoyu, general director of Yao-Chinese Folktales 2, said on the program Lan Yu’s Studio: “The world of conversing with ancestors... is a world steeped in a very Chinese context; Chinese viewers will smile knowingly. (For example) it is full of Easter eggs, including a child asking his ancestors to bless him with good grades. (So) what the ritual of bai shan truly resolves are the problems and needs of the living.”

Still from Hakka Dream

This approach of using a point to bring out the whole has been proven by many acclaimed animated works of the past (especially Hollywood ones). The most classic are Coco (2017) and Turning Red (2022).

Just the year before last, also in Hong Kong, the smash hit The Last Dance told audiences the same thing: the living, too, have many hells they need to break through.

03 Embodied Consumption: “This Artwork Is Unlucky”​

Rewind to around Christmas last year. Another World held a “Thanksgiving Day” event in the 4th-floor atrium of New World Plaza in Mong Kok, Hong Kong. In advance, attendees had to purchase event tickets at designated venues using their movie ticket stubs; those who chose specified screenings could also meet the creative team face to face.

The venue was limited on the day, but the crowd was considerable, the planning was rich, and fan elements were everywhere. The simplest examples were themed tote bags and “itabags” covered with character badges. Gashapon were 30 HKD a pull — a moderate price — and many visitors queued up, opened their capsules on the spot, and then formed groups on the nearby mall seats to swap and trade. Meanwhile, some fans talked about their fondness for specific characters in the film and recommended them to like-minded others.

The “Another World Thanksgiving Day” event in Hong Kong, photo by the author

But clearly, a settled community has yet to form around Another World, and the nourishment of fan works is relatively lacking. This is even more true for Hakka Dream, which is shorter and has only recently been released. By comparison, The Last Dynasty presents a striking contrast —

Beyond the “newly invented collective imagination” and the “historically rooted collective imagination,” this “one-of-a-kind Chinese folk-custom micro-horror suspense animation” (Tencent’s promotional tagline) shows us what the “consumption narrative of folk-custom symbols” and the “collaborative creativity of the animation industry” look like.

First, because today’s consumers (Eiji Ōtsuka’s “narrative consumption theory” calls them “users”) are accustomed to receiving and reassembling fragmented information, people no longer consume the story itself; they choose to consume settings and symbols.

Urban legends are a typical product of incomplete information being repeatedly constructed by people; the internet age has accelerated their reproduction and spread.

For example, the “Eight-Coffin Cursed Array at Yiwan Plaza” in The Last Dynasty is modeled on Liwan Plaza in Guangzhou. Here, more real than the street rumors are the accumulated grievances between property owners and vendors, occasional tragic incidents, and the declining commerce of the old city. As Shi Aidong analyzes it: unlike ancient legends, which preserved interpersonal emotional communication and judgments of right and wrong, modern urban legends have become a sewer through which city dwellers drain negative emotions such as loneliness, anxiety, and unease.

In The Last Dynasty’s processing, such urban legends are symbolized even further. Liwan Plaza and its rumors are highly abstracted into tomb structures, exorcism talismans, feng shui arrangements, zombie soldiers, and a girl with double pupils — all supernatural elements that Hong Kong zombie films brought to prominence.

Lam Ching-ying, the “zombie Taoist master”

Second, fan communities, as unpaid laborers in the animation industry ecosystem, give animated works an inexhaustible vitality. Ian Condry (Ian Condry) argues that it is precisely this “collaborative creativity” (collaborative creativity) — jointly participated in by animators, associated manga artists, sponsors, merchandise distributors, and a great many acts of “powered by love” fandom — that allows “animation” to retain its cross-media vitality in global society.

In this regard, The Last Dynasty has made many fruitful hands-on attempts. For example, it organized a themed art exhibition and directly operated the “Nanting Shop.” Every visitor’s consumption experience highlights the uniquely human significance of “embodiment” (embodiment) — that is, something of flesh and blood, non-virtual, and incalculable.

The “Snow on Nanting: Village Secrets” themed exhibition in Shenzhen, photo by the author

Let’s start with the art exhibition. Those who made a special trip to OCT Harbour, an out-of-the-way shopping district in Shenzhen, to see it were surely fans of The Last Dynasty. The venue simply recreated the scene of the “Great Qing Dynasty Hotel” and put up some animation production materials.

To add fun and to boost the platform’s data, the exhibition featured interactive games at different difficulty tiers. The hardest quiz even asked such tricky questions as: What pattern is on the back of Gao Ying’s phone? What color is Gao Ying’s pencil case? What is the reservation phone number of the Great Qing Dynasty Hotel? Needless to say, this is not a task that can be completed quickly within ten minutes (of course, you could also just go online to search for the answers); to complete it successfully and claim a “tracing-paper bookmark” with lovely artwork, you would really have to scrutinize the series frame by frame.

What was striking was that, in that same moment, a young fan who looked like a female college student was carefully viewing the exhibition, trying to find the quiz answers from it. “She just wants to complete the quiz on her own,” said the person accompanying her.

Photo by the author

Another fan check-in spot for The Last Dynasty is Nanting Village on Xiaoguwei Island in the Guangzhou Higher Education Mega Center. Here, there are some standee decorations related to the animation, along with a small shop selling merchandise. According to the person in charge, almost every day fans come here on “pilgrimage,” and they are always quick to snap great photos, pick out goods, and pay.

Within this seamless sequence of check-in rituals, certain embodied contradictions — perhaps absurd, yet real — stand out as especially interesting.

For instance, in the dim light, a visitor picked up an acrylic art board and studied it closely, murmuring: “This artwork is so beautiful — too bad it’s unlucky and not suitable for the home.” The moment she finished speaking, the person in charge came over in surprise: “What’s unlucky about this artwork?” The answer: in that scene, Gao Ying is physically cut in half at the waist.

Photo by the author

04 Epilogue: Crossing the Boundary Lines of the Animation Field​

Now, the “little Nanting shop” has quietly closed. But fans of The Last Dynasty will continue to be fascinated by this “Chinese-style horror,” keep shipping the “Ying Ting” pairing, and look forward to the second season that is “being planned.”

Another World has been distributed in the UK and Ireland and is expected to land in Japan within the year. As for Hakka Dream, with the national tour of the “Yao-Chinese Folktales: Dream-Making Wonderland” Art Exhibition, who knows whether this “story of one corner” will keep finding its way into countless homes?

From Hong Kong to Shenzhen, Guangzhou, to Heyuan, to Wuhan, Beijing, Shanghai, and then to the world... The Last Dynasty, Another World, and Hakka Dream each took root in South China, yet each left South China — and spoke of South China — in different ways.

In this way, crossing the boundary lines that exist across the field of animation — tangible (national borders, frontiers, customs) or intangible (language, customs, imagery) — our understanding of “Chinese animation” should likewise become all the more vast.

References
Cantonese Animation Studies Series