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Hardcore Behind-the-Scenes | How the First Wool Felt Stop-Motion of Chinese Folktales Captures the Repressed Atmosphere of a Traditional Chinese Household

· 31 min read
Reproduced with permission from 'Animation Academic Pa'\nInterview / Chuan Ming
Editor / Pel
Layout / Rinz

“What we aim to create is a type of performance that makes audiences feel the characters’ inner worlds, which is actually quite rare in stop-motion animation.”

On January 1, 2026, after a three-year hiatus, Yao-Chinese Folktales 2 returned to Bilibili. Co-produced by Shanghai Animation Film Studio, Shangying Yuan, Bilibili, and Chen Liaoyu Studio, this original anthology consists of 9 short films. Twelve directors explore themes of “China” and “Strange Tales,” delving into the core of Chinese storytelling while using reality to reflect on personal perspectives of self, family, and social relationships.

Directed by Chen Lianhua, the fourth episode Xiao Xue stands as the only stop-motion animation in the series. Using medical records as a narrative thread, the film blends reality and fantasy within a supernatural atmosphere. With its distinctive wool felt texture, profound and introspective storytelling, and nuanced emotional development, it portrays the process of reconciliation between two generations, striking a strong chord with audiences.

Animation Academic Pa was honored to invite the director of Xiao Xue, Chen Lianhua, as well as Da Li and Xiao Hua, key creators from Lilliput Stop-Motion Animation Studio, one of the production teams. Join us as we follow their narration and step into this world woven from wool felt.


Guest Introductions
Chen Lianhua
Director of 'Xiao Xue', renowned Chinese animation director known for solar-term animated shorts such as 'Winter Solstice', 'Grain in Ear', 'Spring Equinox', and 'Grain Buds'; Animation faculty at Beijing Film Academy
Xiao Hua
Producer and Lead Artist of 'Xiao Xue'
Da Li
Executive Director of 'Xiao Xue'
Lilliput Stop-Motion Animation Studio
Specializing in premium stop-motion animation. Representative works include Episode 4 'Xiao Xue' of 'Yao-Chinese Folktales 2', the short film 'Slept Meow?' collab between Zootopia × Shanghai Animation Film Studio, and He Tongxue’s 'A Combat Bun'. Collaborated with brands/IPs including Genshin Impact, Arknights, Wuthering Waves, Pizza Hut, Starbucks, JD.com, and more.

- Interview Body -

01 Concept & Creativity: From Story to Script​

(1) Director Chen participated in the production of the first season of Yao-Chinese Folktales. After its success, were there any specific requirements set for the theme selection of the second season?

​Chen Lianhua: As an anthology series, Yao-Chinese Folktales was planned holistically, centered around the keywords “China” and “Strange Tales”. However, regarding theme selection, the producers gave fairly free rein, hoping for diverse styles rather than homogeneity.

My work in the first season, Grain Buds, leans toward an artistic and stylized approach, and the second season maintains that positioning. The producers didn't impose many restrictions on me either.

Previously, my creative work was mostly solo, but the Yao-Chinese Folktales series allowed me to experience teamwork. In the first season, I collaborated with a few people, but this time the scale was much larger—an unprecedented experience for me. I’ve always been interested in 3D puppet stop-motion animation, and now I finally had the opportunity to be part of the production.

(2) What inspired the story of Xiao Xue? Why choose a story focused on parent-child relationships like this? What’s the background behind the book The Medical Records of Qiu Rongchuan?

​Chen Lianhua: When we initially discussed themes, the directors and writers gathered to talk about what they wanted to shoot. We could start from topics we’re currently most interested in or have deeply experienced.

Actually, we initially wrote a script about mother-daughter relationships, complete with an outline, but it relied too heavily on formalistic aesthetics and lacked narrative substance, so it wasn’t adopted. At the time, the showrunner asked if I had any other ideas, suggesting I pitch a few more.

Honestly, I was quite disappointed then, but on the subway ride back that day—maybe within just a few dozen minutes—I came up with the current story. It started as a one- or two-line synopsis before evolving into today’s Xiao Xue. It still explores generational relationships, so the theme remains similar.

As for the book The Medical Records of Qiu Rongchuan, it doesn’t actually exist, but “medical records” are indeed a significant category in traditional Chinese medicine texts. I often enjoy reading TCM case studies, so I wanted to adopt that format. But I wasn’t entirely sure whether using a medical record to document a story of healing both illness and heart would be interesting or overly abstract. Later, I discussed it with Chen Liaoyu(Showrunner of Yao-Chinese Folktales), and he thought the pretentiously serious approach was quite interesting.

The Medical Records of Qiu Rongchuan

The title also has a backstory. “Rongchuan” pays homage to Tang Rongchuan, a TCM master I greatly admire, while “Qiu” was a surname chosen by the writer. Together, they formed “Qiu Rongchuan”.

(3) Director Chen Liaoyu mentioned that the directors of Yao-Chinese Folktales 2 gather to share films and exchange creative insights. Did any senior veterans from Shanghai Animation Film Studio offer guidance during the creation process? Were there any valuable suggestions you received while exchanging ideas with other directors?

​Chen Lianhua: During the production of Season 2, we held numerous gatherings. From initial concepts and storyboards to the near-final cut, everyone would come together to discuss, share progress, and give honest—even sharply critical—feedback. Meanwhile, seniors from the SAFS Art Committee would regularly review our work and provide feedback.

For me, the most important and crucial suggestion was to emphasize the mother’s “whistling” action.

Initially, when designing the storyboards, we didn’t highlight the whistling enough. Seniors from Shanghai Animation Film Studio, Showrunner Chen Liaoyu, and Zhang Junjie, director of Bai Shan, all pointed out: Whistling is a pivotal plot point. Audiences must see it clearly and understand it. If they miss or don’t grasp that Xiao Xue is whistling, the narrative falls apart.

Taking their advice, we put immense effort into adjusting everything from visuals to sound design, finally making that key action stand out.

Clip of Xiao Xue whistling repeatedly
(4) Aside from the main storyline of Xiao Xue and her mother, why did you specifically include a family of three living downstairs who weave kites? Was there a narrative consideration?

​Chen Lianhua: First, from a screenwriting perspective, introducing multiple characters prevents anyone from feeling too flat. We needed another child and neighbors for contrast, so we placed another family on the floor below.

This family actually serves as a secondary thread in the design: a household with more parent-child interaction and likely stronger affection. The parents dote on the child, making toys like kites and fish lanterns, but it’s a normal giving dynamic, so the child doesn’t project excessive emotional attachment to any single toy. Thus, during the Lantern Festival, the kid putting the fish lantern in the temple isn’t a big deal.

In contrast, the protagonist Xiao Xue’s son holds a special fondness for the fish lantern, considering it extraordinarily precious. Overall, this family primarily serves as a foil, subtly conveying the idea that “other children might not value these things as much.”

Fish Lantern Production Diagram
GIF of the Neighbor Family

02 Production & Craftsmanship: From Sketches to Screen​

(5) Lilliput Animation is a pioneering domestic stop-motion studio, and Academic Pa has been following you for a long time~ It’s our first interview. Could you briefly introduce yourselves to our readers and share how you got involved in the Yao-Chinese Folktales project and the opportunity to collaborate with Director Chen Lianhua?

​Xiao Hua: Lilliput is a team focused solely on stop-motion animation. Our core creators are two people: Da Li and myself, Xiao Hua. Initially, we specialized in stop-motion promos for gaming merchandise, like cotton dolls and figures made for games. After shooting a lot of them, we gained quite a reputation in the industry.

You could say that—we’re probably the best at filming cute cotton dolls across the entire internet!

Besides that, we have some original characters and a podcast called “Lilliput Chat”. Basically, we’re a stop-motion studio that wants to try everything!

We were also curious about how Teacher Chen found us, because our past style differs significantly from Xiao Xue.

​Chen Lianhua: At the time, I researched various domestic stop-motion teams and watched Lilliput’s previous work, including some small puppet animation test clips. I could sense that they were capable of expressing the characters’ inner worlds, which is very different from styles purely focused on martial arts actions or external flair. That was my primary reason for choosing them.

Another crucial factor was that I’d seen their videos and listened to their podcast. The content they discussed and their thoughts on stop-motion animation aligned perfectly with mine. I felt right away that this team would work well together. It might sound a bit “presumptuous”, but it turned out I was right.

​Xiao Hua: Thank you so much for your trust, Teacher Chen! Xiao Xue is arguably the largest-scale project we’ve ever undertaken.

(6) During the long production cycle of Xiao Xue, how did you collaborate step by step to complete the film?

​Chen Lianhua: The production of our film was divided into pre-production, mid-production, and post-production. While working on the storyboards, I invited partners like Da Li and Xiao Hua to join early on, adjusting the boards accordingly based on narrative, technical implementation, cost, and other factors.

During the mid-phase, the storyboards were basically finalized, and we moved to performance design. We first recorded live-action performances, spliced them into the storyboards, and evaluated whether the narrative flow was feasible and costs acceptable. This stage actually involved revisiting pre-production adjustments, creating an iterative loop. Essentially, once the performances and storyboard tests with actual acting were locked, nothing changed.

The Director Also Participated in Motion Capture/Performance Sampling

​Xiao Hua: That’s the workflow for Teacher Chen, but ours was more complex. Even before seeing the storyboards, only with a synopsis, we had to conduct character style tests first. Afterward, we built scene models based on the boards, simulating the entire animation process to check for logical consistencies or flaws.

Since Teacher Chen’s film pursues long-take blocking within scenes with very little montage editing, long takes cannot skip steps, demanding precise choreography. Normally, our stop-motion shots stay under 5 seconds, cutting every one or two seconds. A 20-plus-second take like in Xiao Xue is rarely seen and typically requires a week or two to shoot.

​Da Li: We used live-action tests mainly to verify blocking feasibility. Once the scenes were roughly built, we calculated dimensions for each set, filmed test animations, measured character stride lengths and frame counts, and finally locked the storyboard timings. So the 2D storyboard, live-action performance boards, and test animation boards all differ slightly.

The first test shot we filmed: Xiao Xue chases the doctor down the stairs. The doctor stops at their doorstep, and Xiao Xue catches up and bows respectfully.

Xiao Xue Chasing the Doctor Down the Stairs

There was a troublesome issue: I needed both Xiao Xue and the doctor in the frame simultaneously, but Xiao Xue couldn’t catch up to him or go out of frame. Their relative distance had to remain consistent—yet their strides and frame rates differed. The doctor marched forward angrily with wide steps, while Xiao Xue, constrained by clothing and gender, couldn’t stride as broadly. We constantly calculated step frequencies and frame counts, ensuring Xiao Xue stayed perfectly within bounds when the camera tracked the doctor. Extreme precision was required.

​Chen Lianhua: Correct. Xiao Xue emphasizes in-scene blocking over montage, demanding extremely high precision in staging. In 2D, computers can stretch or compress time, but stop-motion’s time and space are fixed. We rely entirely on blocking, which presents a massive challenge for the shooting team.

(7) Director Chen previously shared concept art for Xiao Xue and the doctor, which differs from their final designs. Could you share the initial design approach? How did the team collaborate to iterate step-by-step from sketches to physical puppets, achieving their current appearance?

​Chen Lianhua: Actually, hand-drawn character designs and the final physical puppets are fundamentally different things.

In my past paper-cut animation work, I could maximize the hand-drawn feel because it essentially unfolds drawings into components—whereas puppets in 3D stop-motion are a completely different medium. So I initially sketched the main characters of Xiao Xue in my mind, clarifying their faces so everyone could grasp a three-dimensional understanding during scripting and storyboarding, even though they’d inevitably differ vastly from the final puppets.

Then I discussed it with Xiao Hua, who drew her envisioned version of the puppet. Afterwards, we made numerous adjustments between “my drawn puppet” and “Xiao Hua’s crafted puppet”, eventually shaping a fitting look for Xiao Xue. This process was like a “translation”.

​Xiao Hua: Yes, there has to be a “translation” phase. Because Teacher Chen comes from 2D animation, many of his line treatments follow 2D logic, but those lines are hard to realize in 3D puppets. We know better what can be physically achieved versus what can’t or will lose its flavor. So I had to draft my own vision of the puppet first, then merge it with Teacher Chen’s requirements into a buildable blueprint.

Initial Concept Reference for Xiao Xue
Evolution of Character Design
Final Puppet
Xiao Xue's Headpiece, Originally Intended as the Film's Logo
(8) Were any designs reluctantly abandoned due to production difficulty or material properties? I heard you tested many “unconventional” alternative materials to achieve ideal results. Could you share some examples?

​Chen Lianhua: In the original design, the doctor wore a hat. But during practical puppet-making, we noticed the wool felt surface has a fuzzy pile; wearing a hat made the head look disproportionately large, feeling completely different from real-life hat-wearing. So we ultimately decided to drop the hat entirely, indoors or outdoors. This is an example of a design change driven by material properties.

The doctor’s appearance went through several revisions too. Initially, everyone thought the design looked too much like me, but I didn’t want the character to resemble myself completely, so we kept tweaking it.

Doctor's Puppet

​Xiao Hua: The front and back panels of the qipao used regular window mesh. Its thickness, stiffness, and moldability were just right.

Stop-motion moves frame by frame, so drapable fabrics need stabilization to maintain crisp shapes and prevent unruly skirt movement. Many similar solutions exist domestically and internationally: thinner fabrics can be starched and hardened for shaping, while conventional skirts use wire petticoats. But Xiao Xue’s qipao didn’t suit either method.

The qipao had moderate thickness and would wrinkle after washing; pure wire mesh was too stiff. So we settled on window screen material, which is softer. However, the aluminum wires in screens are extremely fine, frequently pricking the animators’ fingers during posing—a truly brutal process.

Skirt Construction

​Da Li: In the shot where Xiao Xue cries, the tears were made using nail polish glue.

Many stop-motion productions use slime for tears, but slime is too soft and sticky, making the tears look cartoonish. It wouldn’t match the tone of Xiao Xue, and audiences might even laugh at that shot.

So we chose adhesive used for nail art. It’s highly viscous and has inherent rigidity, making it easy to shape. We used tweezers to pull it into threads thinner than a millimeter, then attached them to the wool felt to create delicate tear streaks.

Actually, many nail art materials are exceptionally suitable for decorating puppets' outfits.

Xiao Xue Crying
(9) To facilitate handling, puppets in stop-motion generally feature “large hands and feet”, but Xiao Xue’s hands are incredibly small. Did this design choice bring significant difficulties for subsequent character and set construction?

​Chen Lianhua: Absolutely. Standard puppet animation uses large hands for sturdy skeletons and easier posing, but Xiao Xue is a serious piece; oversized hands would make it look like a children’s show. So we altered the proportions, insisting on extremely small hands with articulated joints. This definitely brought huge challenges to the production team.

​Xiao Hua: Teacher Chen’s requirements were stylistic, while we had to account for animation needs. Hands needed to be small yet durable, unbreakable after a few frames, and capable of complex movements. Embedding just a single aluminum wire wouldn’t snap after a few poses, failing animation demands. Wool felt also posed a challenge—it gains strength and shape only through felting/poking. Making it cling tightly to the metal skeleton without gaps, while still leaving room for poking, was difficult. We tested various glues and mediums through numerous trials before succeeding.

​Da Li: We also built a dedicated oversized hand prop for shooting specific scenes, like the fishmonger catching fish, the mother caressing sheets, or the doctor writing notes—all requiring hand close-ups. Even so, we produced numerous backup puppets. Take Xiao Xue: with four shooting stages at the time, she had four heads. Because walking sequences drained skeletons rapidly, we custom-fabricated three steel armatures for her, plus three spare aluminum wire skeletons.

Hand Construction and Shooting Process

After all, genuinely reliable, cinema-grade steel armatures are highly labor-intensive and expensive; cheaper alternatives are sturdy but far less pliable than aluminum wire, unable to produce the delicate, micro-movements we desired. They’re better suited for skeletal-heavy shots. We also modularized Xiao Xue’s skeleton: if a hand broke, I could quickly reattach it without affecting other parts.

Stop-motion practically functions like a live-action set; our puppets, sets, lighting rigs, and animators all operate on separate schedules. So adjustments happen mid-shoot. For instance, if one animator finishes a shot early to move to the next stage, but the animator scheduled there isn’t done, schedules “clash”.

​Xiao Hua: This explains why Xiao Xue has so many heads and bodies. One head per animator, plus a backup body for each. Hence, the number of bodies is double the heads.

Backup Heads for the Son
Scale Comparison of Other Objects

​Chen Lianhua: There’s a funny thing: whenever people see the actual sets, they exclaim, “I didn’t expect the sets to be this big!” But in reality, the sets are scaled according to the characters.

​Xiao Hua: Exactly. Xiao Xue stands 30cm tall, and the doctor is nearly 35cm. These heights are considered highly exaggerated in stop-motion. Typical stop-motion puppets hover around 25cm—a comfortable height for animators that keeps set sizes manageable.

Why scale them up so much? Because our puppets’ facial features simply couldn’t get any smaller. Don’t let the eyes fool you; they’re actually triple-layered: a white fabric base, embroidered eyeliner stitches, and individually attached eyeballs. Stack these layers and shrink further, and construction becomes impossible.

Eye Fabrication Process

Xiao Xue’s pupils measure only 2.5mm in diameter, while extras’ eyes might be a mere 1mm. Swapping expressions requires tweezers to pluck them out. Eyes are incredibly easy to misplace; even with numerous backups, loss rate stays high. This dictates the minimum viable puppet size at around 30+ cm, meaning the house we see now is already at its smallest functional scale.

Eye Shooting Process

In the final wide shot where Xiao Xue plays in the temple, spanning over seven meters horizontally, it stretches across our entire studio. Her home’s walls are exceptionally tall; during the scene where the son stands on the second-floor windowsill, our tallest animator had to stand on a ladder to shoot. For every single frame adjustment, he’d climb down to hit record/stop on the computer, then climb back up to pose the next frame.

Shooting Set
Final Wide Scene Clip
(10) Xiao Xue employs continuous lateral tracking shots throughout almost entirely, which is notoriously cumbersome for stop-motion. Could you share insights on this aspect? The credits also list a “Track Coordinator” position—could you explain its role?

​Xiao Hua: Honestly, very few domestic studios specialize in stop-motion auxiliary equipment. The technology itself is highly complex, and machines are exceptionally pricey; overseas, usually only major corporations can afford them. Given stop-motion’s niche status, track systems are rarely used unless tackling cinematic projects requiring extensive long takes or motion shots.

We turned to veteran equipment specialists in the industry who had developed relevant tools themselves. They designed our track lengths and instructed us on installation. Thanks to their guidance, we could utilize so many long takes in the film.

Sliding Track Test Photos
(11) The drowning sequence is visually stunning. How did the director approach it? Were any distinct techniques employed, and how was it executed during production?

​Chen Lianhua: Primarily, it served narrative necessity. This segment marks a major turning point, symbolizing the divide between the physical world and the psychological realm.

Technically, it’s a sequence of 2D frame-by-frame animation, where a new puppet had to be manually poked/felted for every single frame. Without 3D printing, it’s rather “clunky” and required tremendous effort.

​Da Li: We referenced a previously shared wool felt 2D animation titled Dialtone, which uses felt to sculpt light and shadow. We loved the piece and tried adapting its technique for Xiao Xue. However, the two actually differ significantly.

Dialtone

Visually, that work still maintained a “relief-like” spatial depth, whereas Xiao Xue was crafted thinner and more translucent, pursuing a watercolor-like texture.

In production, Dialtone was a solo directorial effort made by an animator felting and shooting simultaneously with no division of labor. Our sequence required collaborative splitting, so we pre-felted over 50 layered “son” puppets before staging them.

Regarding lighting, we initially used flat lighting, but Teacher Chen felt it looked too cartoonish. We switched to backlighting, using it as the key light to outline the wool felt edges, then filling in with other lights—for instance, the fire glow from the fish lantern was actually a handheld small lamp placed underneath.

​Xiao Hua: But this lighting approach somewhat diminishes the inherent texture of the wool felt, so we adjusted its thickness further during shooting.

​Da Li: We did consider saving effort at times. For the son’s sequence, we previously tried pushing the camera inward, but found the result rigid. When the subject lacks variation, the frame becomes dull. So we opted for frame-by-frame felting instead; this ensures the son changes slightly each frame, yielding a lively feel akin to 2D animation outlining jitter.

​Xiao Hua: This enhances the underwater atmosphere. Additionally, while felting the son, we stuck to his original colors, but during shooting, we applied four different blue tones for environmental coloring and white wool felt for splash effects, allowing the puppet to seamlessly blend with the watery background.

Underwater Sequence Final Frame
(12) Unlike the exaggerated performance styles common in many stop-motion animations, Xiao Xue’s acting feels nuanced and distinctly “human”. How did you determine this performance style, and how was it achieved?

​Chen Lianhua: First, stop-motion inevitably carries influences from traditional American performance systems—the Disney-style squash-and-stretch mechanics—making characters appear to “nod and sway”. But in my view, that style externalizes everything, leaving audiences disconnected from characters’ internal worlds. What we aimed for was a performance that evokes the “inner life”, which is actually quite rare in stop-motion.

Secondly, animated performance is heavily influenced by each animator’s personal interpretation and temperament. This film highlights that distinctly. We conducted animation tests where everyone shot frame-by-frame clips of Ruan Lingyu’s The Goddess. Right then, we noticed differing approaches—young animators projected differently than mature ones, easily distinguishable. An animator capable of capturing these subtleties inherently crafts exquisitely nuanced characters.

Xiao Xue Animation Test, Sample Footage from Ruan Lingyu's The Goddess

​Da Li: I faced similar dilemmas before, as American performance mechanics aren’t naturally intuitive to me. So while shooting Xiao Xue, I actively explored performances aligning more closely with Chinese kinetic logic. Xiao Xue’s torso exhibits minimal motion, focusing instead on details like fingers and eyes. Yet her core can’t remain entirely static, lest she appear rigid or wooden. Every subtle movement was meticulously staged by our animators.

​Chen Lianhua: Endowing mundane, everyday gestures with dramatic meaning—this effectively summarizes our philosophy on movement design.

03 Release & Resonance: From Details to Empathy​

(13) Upon release, Xiao Xue garnered widespread audience love. Observing viewers’ danmaku comments or fan interpretations, what discoveries or reflections emerged? Did anything catch you off guard?

​Xiao Hua: The audience is incredibly talented. Many interpretations never crossed our minds initially. For example, the doctor plays the flute narratively, but viewers commented, “The doctor’s also in a band?”, treating him as a modern musician—quite fascinating.

​Da Li: Including the son. Viewers noted his athletic talent, exceptional breakdancing skills, even nicknamed him “Board Kid” due to his frequent floorwork in the film. All such comments are delightful.

​Chen Lianhua: Two points particularly surprised me. First, viewers found the fluffy fish incredibly adorable, with unexpected danmaku requests for identical plush toys.

Second, regarding the flute-playing detail. Knowledgeable viewers noticed every finger position was anatomically/musically correct, surprising and pleasing me. During filming, we hired a flute specialist to record reference videos, which animators painstakingly replicated frame-by-frame. It confirms that viewers indeed scrutinize minute details.

Fish

​Xiao Hua: Audience appreciation for the underwater sequence thrilled me! Seeing your painstakingly crafted shots leave viewers amazed validates all the effort poured into them.

​Da Li: Someone mentioned crying alongside Xiao Xue upon seeing her weep—warming my heart.

​Xiao Hua: I teared up watching it for the first time too, viewing the earliest music-less demo cut. Though I knew Da Li was posing it, I still fully absorbed Xiao Xue’s emotional weight.

I hope Xiao Xue joins the ranks of discussed stop-motion classics, becoming a reference point whenever the medium is conversed upon.

(14) What gains did this deep collaboration with Yao-Chinese Folktales bring to each of you? What expectations do you hold for future creations?

​Chen Lianhua: For me, the takeaways are immense. Firstly, despite monitoring stop-motion chronically, this hands-on involvement taught me vast photographic knowledge of the medium. Such expertise can’t be gleaned merely observing finished pieces. Future projects will draw renewed inspiration from this, spawning fresh ideas.

Secondly, collaborating closely with a team offered experiences I’d never encountered, accumulating irreplaceable interpersonal synergy skills.

Thirdly, academically, I continuously pondered what defines stop-motion’s uniqueness and irreplaceability. This film deepened that reflection. The authentic materiality of a “puppet” delivers sensory and spiritual realism—that’s its unreplicable essence. Puppets carry an inherent uncanny eeriness; this sensation penetrates humanity’s deeper recesses, embodying stop-motion’s charm.

Lastly, I deeply admire the women on this team for executing such meticulous craftsmanship!

​Xiao Hua: Thank you, Teacher Chen, truly too kind! He’s already a highly mature artist with a distinct style. We’re thrilled to collaborate with him. Without this partnership, accessing such aesthetics would’ve been unlikely. Creating work is most joyful when exploring uncharted stylistic territories.

Since Teacher Chen lacks prior 3D stop-motion experience, his storyboard and textual designs continually delighted and challenged us, especially through poetic expressions and long takes. Many doubt whether tangible stop-motion can convey poetry and ink-wash sensibilities like 2D animation can, but I believe it absolutely can—and our collaboration with him proved exactly that.

Pre-production Concept Art for Xiao Xue

​Da Li: Previously, we mainly shot cute puppets or environments with low narrative stakes. Xiao Xue’s scale and depth were entirely foreign territory for us. Though fraught with production hurdles, its exceptional storytelling multiplied the sense of accomplishment.

After producing Xiao Xue, I feel our studio broke through significant barriers in aesthetics, technique, emotional perception, and narrative expression. Revisiting other animation projects now feels remarkably effortless. Not formally trained in animation, accompanying Teacher Chen in refining storyboards, dissecting character emotions, and analyzing narrative logic marked my first real lesson in crafting stories—an invaluable learning journey.

Academic Pa: Thank you three for accepting Animation Academic Pa’s exclusive interview. We hope Xiao Xue reaches wider audiences, and eagerly anticipate your future masterpieces!

Wu Jing to the Rescue of Chinese Comics? Can Blades of the Guardians End the "Curse" of Chinese Comic-Adapted Films?

· 23 min read
This article is republished with permission from “Animation Academic Party”\nAuthor / Qingzhou
Layout / Rinz

“There will always be dreamers roaming the world with sword in hand, always little kids draping bed sheets over their shoulders and wielding brooms as knights-errant, and always newcomers yearning for new legends of the jianghu.”

Among this year’s Spring Festival films, Blades of the Guardians—adapted from the manhua Blades of the Guardians—stands out as something different.

It is one of the rare purely domestic live-action manhua adaptations (note: meaning the original comic is Chinese and the film is made by a Chinese team), and the first domestic live-action manhua adaptation to brave the Spring Festival box office. What’s more, it is an uncommonly seen hardcore wuxia production.

Looking at the cast, the film not only has “the world’s greatest action choreographer” Yuen Woo-ping at the helm, but also gathers Wu Jing, Nicholas Tse, Jet Li, as well as Yu Shi, Cisha, Liang Biying, Lin Qiunan and other action stars spanning five generations.

Looking at the texture—desert, yellow sand, flashes of blades and swords—it easily evokes classic wuxia films like New Dragon Gate Inn, Ashes of Time, and Flying Swords of Dragon Gate.

However, the thick “dimensional wall” between manhua and live action, an increasingly niche wuxia theme, a dazzling array of casting choices, the original’s complex narrative versus the film’s limited runtime—these all make one anxious about the final product.

Is the Blades of the Guardians movie worth watching? Can this “hardcore” wuxia blockbuster, as it claims, revive the glory of Chinese-language wuxia and break the curse that “domestic manhua adaptations always flop”?

01 Purely domestic live-action manhua adaptations always flop​

Counting them up, there have actually only been a handful of domestic live-action films adapted from Chinese manhua.

The earliest domestic live-action manhua adaptation dates back to Mr. Wang, created by Ye Qianyu during the Republican era.

The “Mr. Wang” comic

In 1928, inspired by the American humor comic Bringing Up Father, Ye Qianyu wanted to create a humorous, satirical comic focused on the lives of ordinary Chinese people. And so the skinny, comical, henpecked Shanghai everyman “Mr. Wang” was born.

The work was first serialized in Shanghai Manhua until 1937 and was well received. Starting in 1934, the Mr. Wang comics were successively adapted into films, with more than twenty entries released up through the latest one, Mr. Wang: Consumed by Desire, in 1993.

Movie poster for “Mr. Wang”

Then came the childhood memory shared by generations: the “Sanmao” comic series created by Zhang Leping. The series was adapted into films four times, in 1949, 1992, 1996, and 2003. Among these, The Wanderings of Sanmao, shot and screened in 1949, was the first domestic feature film publicly released after the founding of the People’s Republic of China.

The 1949 “The Wanderings of Sanmao”

Both of the above comics took shape during the turbulent Republican era and bear distinct marks of their times. The “Sanmao” series in particular, through the eyes of the street orphan Sanmao, exposes the bitter lives of those at the bottom of society. Though published in commercial magazines, the theme of “national salvation” was always the main thread of comic creation in this period.

The first contemporary live-action film adapted from a domestic manhua was Go Away Mr. Tumor, released in 2015. Its author, Xiong Dun, depicted her own real experience battling cancer in comic form, publishing it simultaneously on Tianya and Weibo; her positive, optimistic spirit moved countless netizens.

In 2012, Xiong Dun passed away from illness. Three years later, the film Go Away Mr. Tumor, adapted from her comic, was released. It ultimately earned 510 million yuan at the box office with a Douban score of 7.4.

Afterward, Take My Brother Away, created by the comic duo You & Ling, was twice adapted into live-action films: Take My Brother Away released in 2018, and What Happened to Big Brother? in 2021. The former earned 375 million yuan at the box office with a Douban score of 6.8—decent results—while the latter grossed only 30 million yuan with a Douban score dropping to 4.2, a truly dismal showing.

In 2023, the film Under the Light of the Underworld, adapted from the popular manhua The Outcast and directed by acclaimed director Wuershan, was released.

Yet this much-anticipated “dream collaboration” of a manhua-adapted live-action blockbuster saw its reputation plummet after release. Criticisms from audiences included, but were not limited to: drastically altered plot, broken characterizations, vulgar content, shoddy special effects, and miscasting; some angrily condemned the work for “completely failing to grasp the spirit of the original comic.”

In the end, Under the Light of the Underworld earned only 118 million yuan at the box office with a Douban score of 5.1—a crushing defeat.

“Under the Light of the Underworld” saw a cliff-like drop in box office on its very first weekend
Interestingly, Hu Xianxu starred in both “What Happened to Big Brother?” and “Under the Light of the Underworld,” but the manhua-adapted web drama “Hikaru no Go,” also starring him, was well received. In addition, the web-drama adaptations of “Take My Brother Away” and “The Outcast” also earned good ratings

In addition, there are the manhua-adapted live-action web films Baimen Wujia and Chunhui, which never saw theatrical release.

Baimen Wujia was adapted from the wuxia manhua of the same name that began serialization in 2013, and premiered in 2018. The original comic won first prize for Most Promising Comic at the 4th Xingman Awards, but the Baimen Wujia film scored only 3.9 on Douban, ranking dead last among the domestic manhua adaptations listed above.

Chunhui was adapted from Ruan Yunting’s semi-autobiographical manhua of the same name. Seen through the eyes of a young art teacher named Xiaochun, the work strings together one warm, healing little story after another, attending to students’ psychology while also voicing the teacher’s own confusion. Gently telling readers that “it’s okay to fall behind,” the work soothes readers’ anxieties like a spring breeze.

The film version is a single-episode short, shot on a phone and only 24 minutes long, released in early 2026. But whether it’s Baimen Wujia or Chunhui, judging by results or scale, neither managed effective reach among the general public.

It’s fair to say that the domestic market hasn’t seen a manhua-adapted film with broad reach, impressive results, and outstanding reputation in a long time.

Can Blades of the Guardians break through this time?

02 The most promising adaptation contender?​

The story of Blades of the Guardians takes place in the final years of the Sui dynasty.

The male lead, Daoma, is an armed escort. Carrying a child named Xiao Qi and bearing several blades of varying shapes on his back, he doesn’t do heroic deeds—he just takes escort jobs for money.

One day, his old acquaintance Lao Mo refers a special job to Daoma: escorting the court’s wanted criminal Zhishilang to Chang’an.

Along the way, all manner of jianghu figures—Ayu, Shu, Madam Yanzi, Pei Xingyan—take the stage in turn, each with their own schemes and their own codes of honor. At court, Emperor Yang of Sui, the Yuwen clan, and the various Western Regions tribes each plot their own moves; undercurrents surge in and around Chang’an as a great battle is about to break out along the Hexi Corridor.

Blades of the Guardians combines the seriousness of historical fiction with the romance of wuxia, weaving major historical events and portrayals of famous historical figures into its semi-fictional narrative, giving the story a more authentic texture.

The author, Xu Xianzhe, drew on primary historical sources such as the Book of Sui and the Zizhi Tongjian in creating the work, striving to “write in the blank spaces of history” so the story doesn’t stray from basic historical facts. His research includes boldly imagined and reasonably inferred plot elements, constructing a solid and credible world for Blades of the Guardians.

The various historical buildings, clothing, weapons, and props that appear in the comic also mostly have historical prototypes, subconsciously leading readers to believe such a legend really happened in the final years of the Sui dynasty.

Part of Xu Xianzhe’s research shared on Weibo

But what draws readers in at first glance is its heavy art style and intensely dynamic battle drawings.

The comic’s lines are rough and forceful, fully conveying the speed, power, and impact of martial arts action, getting readers’ blood pumping; the refined paneling controls the pacing of reading, so that merely looking at the static comic, one can imagine the dynamic moves—like “watching” a movie through the page. The “heavy-industry”-grade art style carries an inherent weathered quality, further highlighting the aesthetics of violence and the cruel era in which the story is set.

The fight scenes are also a major selling point of the Blades of the Guardians film.

Director Yuen Woo-ping is known as “the world’s greatest action choreographer,” and his own résumé is a living history of film action design: Drunken Master, Once Upon a Time in China II, The Matrix, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Kung Fu Hustle, The Grandmaster… Classic action sequences from many Chinese and foreign films are his masterworks.

Lead actor Wu Jing is famous for being able to fight and fighting for real. He once trained with the Beijing Wushu Team, won multiple national wushu competitions, and his signature works are essentially all wuxia or action films. Setting aside his controversial remarks, looking purely at his résumé as an action actor, he genuinely lives up to audiences’ expectations for the fight scenes.

Nicholas Tse, Max Zhang, Kara Wai, Jet Li are regulars of wuxia and action films; the moment their names come up, one classic scene after another automatically surfaces in wuxia fans’ minds.

Nicholas Tse plays Di Ting

And the several new-generation actors also mostly have martial arts or opera training. Among them, Yu Shi has won awards multiple times in national mounted-archery competitions; the fighting prowess of Cisha, Lin Qiunan, Wen Junhui and others was already proven in last year’s hit film Catch the Shadow; Chen Lijun, who plays Ayu, and Li Yunxiao, who plays Madam Yanzi, are Yue opera performers who rose to fame with their joint performance of the Yue opera New Dragon Gate Inn.

Coincidentally, the prototype for Blades of the Guardians’ male lead Daoma was precisely Zhou Huai’an, played by Tony Leung Ka-fai in the film New Dragon Gate Inn—and Tony Leung himself has taken on the important role of “Lao Mo” in Blades of the Guardians.

Zhou Huai’an (played by Tony Leung Ka-fai) in “New Dragon Gate Inn”

Half of Chinese cinema’s action-film “pillars,” and the old and new “flag-bearers” of wuxia film, all gather here—this truly is a spectacle unseen for many years, and perhaps unlikely to be seen again.

Judging from the trailers already released, the action scenes take up a large portion of the film, and all are well executed. The long-missed on-location desert shooting, real actors on real horses, real blades against real steel—these make audiences feel as if they’ve dreamed their way back to the golden age of wuxia cinema, eager to regain that satisfying, “fists landing on flesh” sensation.

03 A maximally compressed jianghu, a narrative fraught with peril​

However, what determines a film’s reputation isn’t just the action scenes—it’s also the story.

Unfortunately, Yuen Woo-ping’s track record as a director and screenwriter Yu Baimei’s past results don’t seem able to reassure audiences…

The Blades of the Guardians manhua has two main plotlines, overt and hidden: the overt one, centered on Daoma and his companions, is the jianghu line recounting the conflicts along the road from the Western Regions to Chang’an; the hidden one, centered on real historical figures with alternating narration, is the court line revolving around official history and political struggle.

The film appears to have cut the court line entirely, focusing its lens solely on the jianghu. Given the film’s limited runtime and the story’s sweeping setting, dual-line narration would risk dropping one thread while catching the other, so this choice is understandable.

But the film’s script also spans a very long period of time. Judging from the trailers, the film may cover most of the important jianghu-line plot from chapter 1 to chapter 168—and bear in mind that Blades of the Guardians has only 172 chapters total since it began serialization in 2015 (per Bilibili Comics), and these are interspersed with a great deal of side stories, ensemble narratives, and flashbacks.

One of the charms of Blades of the Guardians’ story lies in how it cares about every microscopic life caught in the tides of the era. Even villains, supporting characters, and extras are shaped with depth and realism. Consequently, the main plot of Blades of the Guardians advances slowly, while the side stories branch out lush and abundant; countless vividly drawn characters populate the stage, together composing a wuxia world that is vast yet richly detailed.

Compressing everyone’s story into a single film inevitably means simplifying character motivations and “label-ifying” complex characters so audiences can quickly remember them. In that case, the depth of characterization is bound to suffer.

And the removal of the court line leaves the original’s brilliant portrayals of historical figures with nowhere to go, inevitably weakening the work’s sense of historical weight. The vivid gallery of characters and the heroic struggles of larger-than-life heroes so dazzling in the comic may never be seen in the film—or at least not in this film.

Moreover, that “dimensional wall” from comic to live action isn’t so easily crossed either.

The Blades of the Guardians manhua skillfully alternates literal and figurative depiction to create an intense sense of atmosphere. What readers see on the page isn’t necessarily “objectively happening”—it may be a character’s inner thoughts made external, or an intentional symbolic, impressionistic technique by the author.

Ayu avenges her father; her extreme grief and fury fill her body with strength, as if aided by the gods. But in reality, she is already covered in wounds, barely able to move

The comic techniques used in past live-action films mostly appeared in exaggerated, comedic, non-serious narrative contexts, but Blades of the Guardians clearly doesn’t suit that path. If the handling of seriousness misses the mark, the solemn plot can easily turn into a chuunibyou flare-up, breaking the immersive viewing experience.

The chase scene in “Kung Fu Hustle,” simulating the comic’s depiction of visual afterimages from fast leg movement, exaggerating the comedic effect

In addition, there are certain traits unique to comic characters that can easily achieve stunning effects in the original but are hard to replicate in reality.

Take Pei Xingyan for example. In the comic, Pei Xingyan is tall and imposing, with deep-set features and a bold manner; his very entrance carries an air of menace, the very image of a great general who could take an enemy’s head amid an army of ten thousand. But ask about his age—he’s only 17!

The extreme contrast between his ferocious appearance and his youthful age adds a layer of cuteness to the character’s ferocity, enriching his persona.

However, perhaps because a suitable “max-level teenager” is too hard to find in reality, this contrast was unfortunately flattened in the film version, and Pei Xingyan became a generic “dashing young general,” diluting the character’s anchor point.

Similar casting regrets are also visible in characters like Ani and Di Ting. Voices of dissatisfaction with the casting appeared early in the film’s promotion and remain loud to this day. Even if you’re not a fan of the original, you might still avoid this film because you feel some actor doesn’t fit their role.

04 Manhua, cinema, and wuxia—a three-in-one self-rescue​

While I have regrets about some of the adaptations, I don’t believe audiences are obligated to read the original manhua in advance before watching the film.

When a work undergoes cross-media adaptation, trade-offs are inevitable, and works that “drastically adapt” the original and still win acclaim are hardly rare. For example, Brigitte Lin’s Dongfang Bubai in Swordsman II, though never endorsed by original author Jin Yong, became a generation-defining classic in the hearts of many viewers.

But this raises a question: even if the film succeeds, to what extent can its glory flow back to the manhua?

The plight of domestic manhua is a well-worn topic—after the bubble burst, the once-flourishing comic platforms have dwindled to three mainstream players: Kuaikan Comics, Tencent Comics, and Bilibili Comics.

The living space for domestic comic creators is far from rosy: some comics can only occupy the downstream derivative niche of web novels already validated by the market, while riskier original comics struggle along, axed mid-run or abandoned by their authors as a matter of routine.

Even among domestic original comics, Blades of the Guardians is an outlier: page-format, black-and-white, read right-to-left—running contrary to the current mainstream trends of domestic comics and invisibly raising the barrier to entry. Despite its excellent reputation, the Blades of the Guardians manhua has yet to demonstrate a matching ability to monetize.

Print volumes of the “Blades of the Guardians” manhua

Even if the film succeeds, it doesn’t mean success for the Blades of the Guardians IP as a whole. The general audiences who make up the bulk of ticket sales don’t care whether it’s a manhua adaptation—many may not even know it has a comic original. Whether the casting is faithful or the plot changed—things the original fans care about—mean nothing to general audiences; for them, the first Blades of the Guardians they encounter is the film, and Daoma is simply the Daoma played by Wu Jing. Those willing to seek out the comic after watching the film are, after all, a minority.

What’s more, the film industry itself isn’t doing so well either.

After Ne Zha 2 became a smash hit at the start of last year, none of the several key holiday windows that followed produced a hit film to carry the torch; not until Zootopia 2 was released at year’s end did the overall box office warm up somewhat, though overall it remained bleak.

Of the top 10 films by box office in 2025, 4 were animated. Data as of December 31, 2025

On the other hand, short videos, micro-dramas, AI comic-dramas, and other cheaper cultural products with faster feedback are stealing people’s attention. According to QuestMobile’s video content industry report, in 2025 the supply of films on online video platforms rose somewhat, yet their share of views declined slightly, accounting for only 2.2% of total views across the four platforms—iQIYI, Youku, Tencent Video, and Mango TV.

In other words, even on streaming platforms with lower barriers to consumption, people are increasingly unwilling to watch movies.

As it stands, the 2026 Spring Festival slate has no obvious super-headline film, and overall expectations are lower than in previous years. And how many viewers the wuxia genre can still attract is itself an uncertain factor.

Think back: what was the last theatrical wuxia film that sparked nationwide buzz, earning both acclaim and box-office success? Brotherhood of Blades? The Grandmaster? The Final Master? Or something else? Whichever it was, it’s already a work from over a decade ago.

Good wuxia doesn’t rely on piling up visual spectacles with special effects; it relies on solid, grounded moves, placing extremely high demands on choreographers, directors, and actors alike. This is a genre where, without real kung fu, you can’t take the stage. “Lack of good scripts,” “a generational gap among action actors,” “special effects flying everywhere,” “no chivalric spirit”—these are audiences’ most common complaints about current wuxia films.

Wuxia animation is caught in a similar bind. Compared with purely physical combat, animation is naturally better suited to—and better at realizing—more fantastical genres like magic circles and immortal arts. Pure wuxia animation faces not only technical challenges but also an emotional-threshold crisis of “not thrilling enough, not hype enough.”

The wuxia animation “Zhen Dao Ge”

When investment and return are out of proportion and satisfying wuxia works grow ever scarcer, it seems to seal the fact that “wuxia is dead.”

And yet, whenever a big production claiming to be “orthodox wuxia” launches, good or bad, it draws widespread attention; also in recent years, several wuxia-themed games have been enthusiastically embraced, with some sparking massive discussion before even officially releasing.

Some non-wuxia IPs have also launched wuxia-themed events to much acclaim, such as Wuthering Waves, Love and Deepspace, and Path to Nowhere. And the twelfth-anniversary installment of the Spring Festival stalwart Boonie Bears series likewise carries a strong wuxia flavor (the kung fu bear theory, that is).

Perhaps it isn’t that audiences have abandoned wuxia, but that the market has overdrawn audiences’ trust in wuxia-type works—audiences still crave quality wuxia that looks good and fights well.

And right at this moment, Blades of the Guardians arrives.

A well-funded production team, an original of proven quality, a cast with formidable “combat power”—these make Blades of the Guardians the meeting point of manhua, cinema, and wuxia as they explore the road to self-rescue.

As a second-generation anime fan who yearned for the wuxia world since childhood, I sincerely hope Blades of the Guardians can deliver a good story, bring a jianghu legend of gratitude and vengeance settled with a sword, and make a few new ripples on the jianghu.

The age of cold weapons is long gone, and wuxia may well become a niche genre in the end. But there will always be dreamers roaming the world with sword in hand, always little kids draping bed sheets over their shoulders and wielding brooms as knights-errant, and always newcomers yearning for new legends of the jianghu.

This may be an opportunity, or it may be flowers in a mirror and the moon in water—illusions all. As for how much it’s really worth, we’ll only find out on the first day of the Lunar New Year.


▼ If you’re interested in Blades of the Guardians, our Maoyu Zouma shop also carries the original Blades of the Guardians manhua—click to learn more ▼

​References: The Beijing News: “Blades of the Guardians” Season 1 wraps with a score of 8.8—interview with original creator Xu Xianzhe on history and imagination

Red Star Culture: “Blades of the Guardians”: a “revenge of the Avengers” belonging to Chinese wuxia
Collection Magazine: A comic made into a movie—pioneer “Mr. Wang,” but what about the “star-maker” behind him?
Caixin: Animation takes half of a 51.8 billion yuan box office: the “D”-shaped trap of Chinese cinema
QuestMobile 2025 Drama & Film Market Review: Short dramas stir things up as long- and short-video platforms compete and cooperate; membership models force platforms toward premium content!

Fifth Season in a Row on Netflix Original! How Did "Scissor Seven" Become a Rare Case of Sustainable Chinese Original Animation Going Global?

· 13 min read
This article is reprinted from “Animation Academic趴”\nEditor / Light Boat
Layout / Eis

When a Chinese original animated series reaches its fifth season on Netflix (Netflix) and is continuously labeled as a “Netflix Original”(Netflix Original), this transcends a simple overseas copyright distribution. It has become the only sample for observing how a Chinese original animation can achieve sustainable operations in the international mainstream market and build a global IP.

Since its first season launched in 2020, Scissor Seven has covered 190 countries and regions worldwide, featuring 29 subtitle languages and 5 language dubs. While overseas fans cheer for the fifth season, we should pay more attention to the systematic overseas expansion path for Chinese original animation that it outlines behind the scenes.

01 Going Global is Not an Accident, But an Inevitability​

Scissor Seven's global distribution strategy was determined at the very beginning of its IP incubation. The producer, AHA Entertainment, upon first evaluating its initial demo, recognized its global potential and proactively brought it to international stages like the Annecy International Animation Film Festival. This successful debut not only made it the only Chinese work selected for the main competition that year, but also directly led to early cooperation opportunities with Netflix. Thus, it embarked on a path anchored to the global market from the starting point.

This strategy is directly reflected in two aspects: in terms of channels, it chose to launch globally as a “Netflix Original”, which not only meant smooth channels, but also that the platform regarded it as part of its global content matrix for resource allocation and promotion. Netflix's head of animation, John Derderian, once commented that it “has the chance to resonate with animation fans worldwide.” In implementation, it treats high-quality multilingual dubbing as a standard configuration. Scissor Seven produced 4 foreign language dubs (English, French, Spanish, Japanese), thereby covering audiences in Asia, Europe, the Americas, Africa, and Australia. Produced in a localized dubbing model, it broke free from the “Chinese-speaking circle” that relies on subtitles, directly targeting a broader non-native Chinese speaking audience.

Netflix officially announced on YouTube the global launch of Scissor Seven Season 5

This strategic choice essentially exchanges higher initial costs and more complex collaboration processes for a purer “global IP” starting point. At this point, it has become the only IP among domestic Chinese animations to achieve a simultaneous global release under the “Netflix Original” brand for five consecutive seasons. This proves the sustainability of its strategy.

02 A Good Story Knows No Borders​

Whether for domestic or overseas audiences, the primary criterion for testing a work's vitality has always been: is this a good story that moves people? Scissor Seven does not rely on the Chinese mythological system, but constructs an original story about the growth of a modern ordinary person. This setting naturally lowers the barrier of understanding for global audiences.

More importantly, it quickly leads the audience to the universal emotional core of humanity. In the anime, Seven fights time and again to protect the people around him and the island he lives on. When the audience's emotions are ignited by Seven's fighting figure, Scissor Seven truly enters their hearts. “I want to protect the important people”——this is an emotional resonance that transcends language, culture, and geographical barriers.

And the protagonist's spiritual core——“Be Brave to Be Yourself”——further amplifies this resonance. Seven is not a born hero. He is confused, imperfect, learns to accept his flaws in the process of self-discovery, and faces challenges with humor and optimism. The imperfect Ah Qi is just like the imperfect you and me. Every viewer can see themselves in Seven. Ah Qi was not born the best in the world. In his journey of self-discovery, he gradually accepts his own shortcomings and faces challenges with a humorous, open-minded, and optimistic attitude. Seven conveys simple values through his actions: “It's okay to be imperfect, may you be brave enough to be yourself!”

Scissor Seven Seasons 1-5 consistently score high on the overseas rating site MyAnimeList

​The exploration of individual value and inner growth is the universal emotion carried by this original story, and it is also a proposition shared by the modern world. As producer Zou Shasha said, she believes that the universal values in the work can naturally reach global audiences.

03 Cultural Translation, Lingnan Slippers Can Hit the Funny Bone in North America​

Director He Xiaofeng and his team are deeply influenced by Lingnan culture. Therefore, Scissor Seven also reveals strong Cantonese regional characteristics. The work is full of life-like details——hidden masters wearing slippers, street-side beef offal stalls, vivid Cantonese-accented Mandarin——together building a unique, self-consistent, and vibrant world.

Slippers falling from the sky

At the beginning of its overseas launch, Netflix's head of animation, John Derderian, said: “We really love the Chinese culture and unique elements presented in Scissor Seven. This is exactly the kind of truly local content we want. We believe this will resonate with and be loved by animation fans worldwide.”

But how can an anime full of the bustling atmosphere of Cantonese street stalls tickle the funny bones of audiences in North America and around the world? The practice of Scissor Seven reveals a path: successful cultural dissemination is not about “self-dilution”, but about clever “cultural translation”. Its strategy lies in transforming distinct regional characteristics into an “exclusive seasoning” that enhances the work's charm and recognition. This is exactly the deep meaning behind the choice of Chinese-American comedy star Ronny Chieng to voice the lead in the English dub of Scissor Seven. He is not just a voice actor, but plays the role of a “cultural meme translator”.

You might not know him, but you may have heard his stand-up comedy

In previous interviews, Zou Shasha, producer of Scissor Seven and founder of AHA Entertainment, introduced: “Ronny Chieng is a very popular comedian in North America and has appeared in multiple Hollywood movies. As an ethnic Chinese, he is fluent in both Chinese and English. During the dubbing process, he could even spot mistranslations in the script and is very familiar with all kinds of jokes and language puns in the original version, preserving the original flavor of Scissor Seven to the greatest extent.”(Previous article: Scissor Seven is becoming a new business card for Chinese animation overseas Thus, the original Seven, with his Cantonese-accented Mandarin, underwent a context conversion and began speaking English with a uniquely East Asian flair, successfully retaining the character's traits.

For overseas audiences, the original Cantonese humor and language puns have turned into appropriate expressions in the English context. The earthly wit and character traits are not lost in translation but survive in a vivid form. This fresh and interesting “exotic” experience constitutes a strong aesthetic appeal. The overseas journey of Scissor Seven proves that cultural differences are not necessarily barriers. Through creative translation, they can completely become the most infectious memory point of the work. The local vitality thus becomes a uniquely flavored seasoning that connects audiences around the world.

04 Community Co-creation, Cultivating “Organic Growth” Thousands of Miles Away​

If content and channels are the hardware for going global, then long-term overseas fan operation is the software system that allows an IP to “survive” and “become popular” overseas. The core of Scissor Seven's overseas operations lies in building a fan ecosystem that encourages participation and can even grow organically.

Scissor Seven official Instagram celebrating the overseas premiere of Season 5 with fans
Scissor Seven official reminds fans about the overseas premiere of Season 5

The official overseas social media accounts of Scissor Seven have long surpassed being simple information boards. It maintains intimacy and online presence through high-frequency fan interaction, and encourages fan creations by establishing “Fanart Friday”(Fanart Friday). The essence of this strategy is to transform the fans' vigorous passion for secondary creation into an original content source that maintains the IP's popularity, forming a sustainable content co-creation cycle between the official side and fans, keeping the IP fresh during the gaps between seasons.

Before Season 5 launch, Scissor Seven official launched a cross-platform meme contest

At the same time, collaborative promotion with Netflix, voice actors, and overseas Key Opinion Leaders (KOL), along with the establishment of long-term communication mechanisms with core community managers and influencers in Discord communities, allowed first-hand information about Scissor Seven to be autonomously disseminated among fan groups through different touchpoints instantly.

Overseas content creators sharing Scissor Seven related videos on YouTube

This kind of community driven by emotional connection ultimately needs a physical carrier to precipitate a sense of belonging. Facing the difficulty for overseas fans to purchase “merchandise”(衍生品), the official overseas shopping website went live, selecting premium merchandise to list, making it easier for overseas customers to buy, using merchandise to enhance the IP's sense of companionship and belonging for overseas audiences, thereby strengthening fan stickiness, and connecting more global users through content and products. This is also a key link for Scissor Seven to transform online emotional recognition into offline companionship.

Scissor Seven Overseas Shopping Website

05 Chinese Animation Going Global, Flourishing​

The path of Scissor Seven reveals a rare combination of “systematic going global” capabilities: it replaces opportunism with strategic patience, anchoring global distribution from the early stages of IP incubation; it breaks cultural barriers with universal emotions, firmly believing love and tolerance can dissolve hatred and prejudice; it crosses aesthetic divides with cultural translation, transforming regional characteristics into global appeal; it cultivates an IP's organic vitality thousands of miles away through community co-creation. This combination of tactics allowed it to transcend the simple category of “content going global” and initially step into the deep waters of “IP ecosystem going global”. This is exactly what its producer firmly believes——good content needs to be matched with a good operational system to cross mountains and seas, take root, and grow.

However, in contrast, the general reality for domestic Chinese animation going global is closer to a kind of “sporadic breakthrough”. On the most representative overseas anime communities and rating sites (如MyAnimeList), Japanese anime absolutely dominates. This is not simply a matter of taste preference, but a solid barrier built by decades of industrialized production and systematic output. Although Chinese animation occasionally has excellent works making it onto the lists, cases like Scissor Seven that can form a sustained seasonal influence and inspire long-term creative enthusiasm from overseas communities are extremely rare.

The top five on the MAL overall ranking are all Japanese anime

The story of Scissor Seven going global is far from its final chapter. Its significance lies not in providing a simple template to copy, but like a ship pioneering into the deep sea, proving the accessibility of the direction. It marks the key beacons needed for the journey from “work going global” to “IP going global”, and even future “ecosystem going global”: strategic global vision, universal connection in narrative, wisdom in cultural translation, and long-term patience in operations.

International media outlet CBR lists 6 Chinese “Donghua” works comparable to top Japanese anime IPs

And the ultimate value of Scissor Seven's five-season voyage has long surpassed the success of a single animation. Its more important role is as a pathfinder and validator. As a pathfinder, it was the first to traverse the wind and waves, proving that the channel named “systematic going global” is indeed feasible. And as a validator, it brought back a clear “navigation chart”. It proves that the sails of Chinese animation can sail into the central waters of world culture by the power of a system, not just by a gust of accidental wind.

Scissor Seven and its global fans

Today, this story born from a small island in southern China has not only reached 190 countries and regions worldwide, but has also won a place in the hearts of overseas audiences with five consecutive seasons under the “Netflix Original” banner. Its route has set verified coordinates for those who follow. The grand narrative of Chinese animation going global will thus turn to a new topic: how to move from one ship braving the wind and waves to the collective voyage of an entire fleet?

Looking at the history of the global animation industry, top IPs that can cross cultures, traverse cycles, and form long-term influence all start with original genes. The practice of Scissor Seven also proves that Chinese animation is fully capable of completing this classic and core path of IP construction.

When we look back on the story of Scissor Seven in the future, it might be defined as a “starting point” for Chinese original animation to truly globalize. Its remarkable achievement lies not only in how far it has gone, but also in its firm choice of the most essential, most difficult, and infinitely potential path——using original IP to dialogue with the world. It also lies in the fact that with its solid five-season voyage, it has returned the most precious thing for the entire industry: a confirmed “feasibility” and an incredibly valuable confidence derived from practice.