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High Cost of COVID Drug Impacts Mainlanders

By Sean Pan

Yan Liu, a housewife from Guangzhou, China, spent RMB ¥8,200 (US $1200) for a packet of Paxlovid in late December, 2022.

Weeks before that, the Chinese government dropped its zero-COVID policy, easing COVID-19 testing and quarantine rules. After this measure, infection cases increased dramatically in many mainland China cities.

Alongside the skyrocketing COVID-19 infection number, the price of Paxlovid increased more than 3.5 times from its original price of RMB ¥2,300 (US $335).

Like many people in China, Yan scrambled for this foreign oral treatment approved by Beijing in December, during the peak of the inflation.

“I bought the drug in case anyone in my family gets infected for the second time since catching COVID-19 again can bring even more serious health problems,” the 42-year-old woman says.

All family members of Liu were tested positive in December, 2022, except her seven-year-old son.

“I learned about Paxlovid from my peers. After that I noticed someone selling it in a WeChat group chat for parents in my child’s school,” Liu says.

Scalpers sell and promote Paxlovid on WeChat.

The supply shortage of the drug has fostered a black market in China. Yan bought her Paxlovid from a scalper on WeChat. After spending RMB ¥8,200 (US $1200), she has not used any of the medicine yet.

“I will not regret buying Paxlovid. It is about health, an essential thing. Money should be spent on health,” she says.

According to the National Medical Products Administration (NPMA) of China, the drug is an investigational medicine used to treat mild to moderate COVID-19 patients.

Pfizer, the manufacturer of Paxlovid, writes on its website that “Paxlovid is an investigational medicine because it is still being studied and there is limited information about the safety and effectiveness of using Paxlovid to treat people with mild-to-moderate COVID-19.”

May Lee*, who lives with her 10-year-old son and husband in Guangzhou, also bought 30 tablets of Paxlovid. She bought the medicine from a private clinic without requiring a prescription in January this year.

“I paid RMB ¥3,400 (US $500) for the drug. It is an amount that I can accept. My family and I might not need to take this medicine but having it ready at home is always nice. I can also send it to my parents or other elderly in the family if they need it,” the 35-year-old accountant says.

“I learned about Paxlovid in early November, 2022, before catching COVID a month later in mid-December. But the price was too high then, costing around RMB ¥7,000 (US $1,010),” she says.

In a bid to learn more about how the drug is being transacted, a Varsity reporter posed as a potential buyer in late January. The reporter was offered RMB ¥4,300 (US $620) for 30 tablets of the medicine by a scalper named Sir Yi on WeChat.

“I got the medicine mainly from private clinics all around China. I had sold the drug to more than 50 customers in the past two months,” says the scalper, who claims to be based in Shenzhen.

“The medicine can ease symptoms of COVID-19 and be used by people of all ages without causing any allergies or side effects,” he says to the Varsity reporter.

“The price has been stable for a while and the demand is still high as there are no substitutes. You should buy the medicine even if you have already been infected. Buying Paxlovid is always a good idea. Prices might go up again when there is a further shortage,” Sir Yi claims.

Screenshot of a Varsity reporter talking to Sir Yi, a scalper of Paxlovid, on Wechat.

While many people had resorted to underground channels to buy the drug at inflated prices, Paxlovid is now available on different online platforms at a lower price. Platforms like MeiTuan medical and JD medical sell the drug at the price of around RMB ¥2500 to RMB ¥2800 (US $360 to US $400), a few hundred more than the official pricing. However, these platforms only supply a fixed amount of Paxlovid daily, leaving them unable to fulfil the high demand.

Professor Grace Wong Lai-hung of the Department of Medicine and Therapeutics at the Chinese University of Hong Kong says Paxlovid is a helpful medicine to cure COVID-19 with minimal side effects.

Wong adds that Paxlovid can be taken by most patients, apart from those taking other medicines as there may be drug interactions.

“The chaos in Mainland China seems unreasonable. It is wrong to buy or sell any medicine without a legal prescription or to inflate the price, making it unaffordable for certain patients,” she says.

“However, in the Mainland, Paxlovid as a valid treatment for COVID-19 is still worth purchasing if it is necessary to help save a life,” she adds.

*Name changed at interviewee’s request

Edited by Lesley Lam

Mainland Couples: We Don’t Want Children

Young couples in China refuse to give birth to children.

By Cynthia Hu

Married for eight years, business consultant Amanda So has decided not to have children so that she can have a good life with her husband. 

“I enjoy doing my work and having my free time. Having children will worsen my quality of life,” the 33-year-old working woman from Guangdong says.

So and her husband both believe they can have a better life without children.

“My husband is a lawyer, and our annual income is about RMB ¥2.5 million

(US $367647). I can spend all my money on shopping, especially handbags. The price of all my luxury bags ranges from ¥50000 (US $7309) to ¥100000 (US $14618). I spend about RMB¥100000 (US $14706) a year on shopping,” she says.

“We can also go traveling whenever we want. We flew to Shanghai every month and spent three days at Disneyland in the past two years even during the pandemic. If we have children, we cannot do this because we need to take care of children,” she adds.

So uses her monthly income to buy luxury bags. (Photo courtesy of Amanda So)

But her parents do not share her view. 

“My parents think it is better to have children so that they can take care of us when we are old. I disagree, but I don’t say anything to avoid arguments,” So says.

“I think more and more married couples will not have children in China. The government will provide better healthcare and elderly care services for people like us,”

According to the data released by National Bureau of Statistics in January 2023, China had 1.412billion people at the end of 2022, 850,000 fewer than at the start of this year. It is the first population decline in China in six decades.

The number of newborns fell from 10.62 million in 2021 to 9.56 million in 2022, as married couples like So are reluctant to give birth. 

Though the Chinese government scrapped the one-child policy in 2016 and introduced the three-child policy in 2021, the population is still declining. 

Speaking in a press conference in September 2022, Wang Haidong, the director of the Aging Department of the National Health Commission said the population of people aged 60 and above would exceed 400 million, accounting for more than 30 per cent of the total population around 2035. He warned that China is facing a serious aging population problem.

Measures to boost the population have been introduced in some provinces in China.

In Sichuan, a province of 81 million people in southwest China, local authorities lifted all quota imposed on the number of children families can have in January 2023.
Wang Haha, a 37-year-old woman from Jiangsu Province, also thinks life is better without children.

“I want to focus on my work. I have no time to take care of a child. And to be honest, I don’t like children at all. I don’t get along with children, and I hate some of my relatives’ children. They have bad manners,” the employee of a state-owned enterprise says.

Wang observes many friends are busy taking care of their children.

“Some children have health problems and my friends have to do frequent hospital visits. Medical spending is expensive. It is also costly to cover children’s education expenses,” she says. 

Though Wang and her husband both have full-time jobs, she thinks they do not have enough resources to raise a child.  

“When I just got married, my husband planned to have children. But I insisted on not having children and threatened divorce. My husband is a good guy, and he understands my concerns and thinks from my perspective. He now shares my views,” she says.

Wang enjoys watching her favorite television series when her husband exercises next to her. They cook together and hug each other when watching movies.

“We can go out for a walk or go on a trip when we want to. That is my ideal way of life,” she says. 

“My friends who have children envy me now. They think having no children is a smart decision, as sometimes children are troublesome.”

Cameron D. Campbell, a Chair Professor in the Division of Social Science at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, says the declining population in China is an inevitable trend.

“That’s just going to happen. People are not having children because they cannot afford it, they don’t have time and they don’t feel confident. It is a combination of society, financial, time pressure, career pressure. People don’t feel prepared in terms of income pressure, housing, and competitive education,” he explains.

Cameron also points out that it is difficult for women to balance career and family which is also the reason for the decline in fertility.

“There are a lot of women out of the labor force right now because they are taking care of children,” Cameron says.

He adds the government can increase the retirement age, improve education to increase labor productivity, and provide better infrastructure for the elderly.

To boost the Chinese birth rate, Cameron says it is important to reduce the cost of education and the pressures that prevent women from remaining in the labor market after they have children.

“Some people will respond by having more children, but it probably will not have an obvious effect,” he says.

Sub-edited by Fiona Dongye

Stationery in the Digital Age

Love for pens and papers never fades even in the digital era.

By Lorraine Chiang

Trying to make her notes as pretty as possible, Emily Tang Yan-Tung has tried numerous notebooks and pens that lead her to fall in love with stationery.

The 18-year-old student has spent more than HKD 2,500 (USD 318) on over 100 pens and around HKD 1500 (USD 191) on 100 notebooks.

Her journey as a stationery lover began in secondary school when she saw her teacher’s colorful blackboard writings. To match her notes with the blackboard writing, she bought pens in the same color as her teacher’s chalk markers.

“Back then, I came up with a few ways to make my notes look aesthetic such as using calligraphy pens,” says the social work major student from the Chinese University of Hong Kong.

Other than pens, she also likes experimenting with different types of paper.

“For drawing, I use kraft paper. I like the color combination of brown kraft paper and grey pencil marks. As I find white paper ugly for note-taking, I use Muji’s cream-colored paper instead. Then I use grid paper for Chinese and lined paper for English,” Tang says.

Emily Tang Yan-Tung doing sketching on brown kraft paper. (Photo courtesy of Emily Tang Yan-Tung)

“When I brainstorm essay ideas, I write on many pieces of paper. I lay them side by side which allows me to see everything at once. But digital gadgets only provide a scroll function or zoom-in and out function. I cannot see my ideas altogether,” she says.

She believes stationery is irreplaceable even though she often uses digital gadgets for her study out of convenience.

“An iPad with a matte screen protector is not even close to tactile feedback of pen and paper,” Tang says.

CUHK student Paul Ip Pui-Hei, who also loves stationery, has ventured into the fountain pen world since he worked part-time at a bookstore in 2022. The 18-year-old stationery addict has spent around HKD1,500 (USD191) on fountain pens in nine months.

“My colleagues have taught me a lot about fountain pens such as how to refill the pen ink, ways to differentiate fountain pen nib sizes and more,” the Year One student says.

Ip is fascinated by the charm of fountain pens. “I like to have some “ceremonial” things to spice up my life. I like to take things slow in the simple parts of my life, and using a fountain pen allows me to experience those small pleasures,” he says.

The student also cherishes the warmth of handwritten messages.

“WhatsApp messages usually sound cold and identical, which shows no effort of our connection. But everyone’s handwriting is unique, ” he says.

Another fountain pen fan Ng Chuen-Pei turns his passion for stationery into a retail business, Muze Pens, which he sees as an “oasis” for his customers.

The collectibles shop, located in Sham Shui Po, provides fine writing instruments, journals, papers, fountain pen inks and other pen accessories.

“Stationery and digital worlds do not contradict one another, they complement each other instead,” Ng says.

His company uses digital platforms, such as Instagram and Facebook, for business communication. However, when it comes to writing self-reflection, he prefers pens and paper.

Ng Chuen-Pei creates an Instagram account for business communication of Muze Pens.

“Sometimes you are all by yourself with just your notebook and pen. At that moment, you can self-reflect without all of this fast-paced information flooding in your brain”

Like Ng, Tony Chan loves stationary so much that he started an online store in 2017. He now has a physical store in Mong Kok.

“Most of my physical store customers are fountain pen beginners or people who need help with fountain pen problems, while my online customers are experienced fountain pen lovers,” Chan says.

His customers buy his products out of a need for satisfaction. “When you write, you solely focus on writing and forget about other problems. In this way, people can relieve their stress,” Chan says.

Edited by Phoebe Chu
Sub-edited by Karmen Yip

Revival of handwritten cards in the digital age

Handwritten cards make a comeback in the digital age as people crave a personal touch.

By Angel Yu

University student Kay Yu Nga-kei, once an enthusiast for writing cards for her loved ones, has reignited her passion in sending out handwritten cards on special occasions like birthdays and festivals since her visit to a birthday card exhibition. 

Writing handmade cards for friends and family was her childhood habit, but the 20-year-old turned to social media and instant messaging apps as she grew up. She restarted the habit after being inspired by the exhibition.

“Handwritten words convey the writer’s emotions, style, and personality which makes it unique and more intimate to the receiver. Each of us has a unique handwriting style, something a keyboard does not have,” Yu says.

“Cards can be physically preserved. I enjoy the feeling of spotting handwritten cards and letters in a bunch of papers mixed with receipts and exercises when I am tidying my desk. They are like time machines that make me travel back in time,” she adds.

Yu went to The Happy Birthday 366 Exhibition at Oi! Glasse in North Point designed by artist Hikoko Ito. Held in October 2022, it featured 366 mailboxes, each carrying a birthday card written by Ying Wa Primary School and S.K.H. St. Michael Primary School pupils. 

Setting of the exhibition (Photo courtesy of Yuk-kuen Suen)

With 366 Art motifs Hikoko created from the Chinese character for “happiness” featured on the mailboxes’ covers, visitors found their destined mailbox according to their birth dates.

Search list for destined mailbox for visitors (Photo courtesy of Hikoko Ito)

Each visitor could take a card from a mailbox of their birthday and write down their own messages in new cards for their birthday twins, contributing to a cycle of blessings.

Visitors receive cards from mailboxes. (Photo courtesy of Yuk-kuen Suen)

Yu received a card from the mailbox with a line saying: “I am good at uncoloured art.” and a drawing of Peppa Pig.

“I could tell it was written by a zestful kid judging by the pencil strokes. It made my day. I have always loved works by kids. The embodiment of innocence offers pure happiness,” the Early Childhood Education major student says.

Card received by Nga-kei Yu (Photo courtesy of Nga-kei Yu)

In return, she left positive messages like “I wish you a fabulous [and] wonderful day,” and “Do you know that you are the best version of yourself because you’re always the best?” at the exhibition.

Card sent by Nga-kei Yu (Photo courtesy of Nga-kei Yu)
Card sent by Nga-kei Yu (Photo courtesy of Nga-kei Yu)

Inspired by the exhibition after experiencing a long-lost nostalgia, Yu wrote five small notes to her loved ones. 

“I want to remind them of how much I care about them and how great they are. I wish to continue spreading the sense of connectedness I experienced in the exhibition,” Yu says.

Yu’s mother Anssie Suen Yuk-kuen was one of the recipients of Yu’s loving notes. She also went to the exhibition and picked up this heart-warming habit alongside her daughter.

“If I want to leave my kids a message before I sleep, I will write them a memo and put it on a desk,” the 54-year-old housewife says.

The messages are reminders of breakfast in the oven or rice cooker, and greetings like “Have a happy school day, fighting!”

“I actually look forward to their replies. If I WhatsApp them, it is very likely that I will just see blue ticks or a sticker,” Suen says.

The 54-year-old believes that handwritten notes help her identify the most important people in life whom she would write to. “The act of picking a card is already a contribution of one’s time. Then you also have to spend time thinking and writing,” she says.

Ito has similar thoughts. “The whole experience starts way earlier than the moment you have your first word written down. The moment of creativity starts way before that,” she says.

“The whole process brings you joy more than you ever noticed. You miss out a lot in life if you have never experienced such moments of happiness,” the artist adds. 

Hikoko Ito at the exhibition (Photo by courtesy of Lung-tai Ngai)

Hikoko Ito sees sending out handwritten blessings as a step-by-step ritual that has to be proceeded with care.

“First, I have to sit in a comfy chair under good lighting. Then, I need to clear my mind. After that, I will choose a piece of paper I like to write in a preferred manner. Ceremonial polity evokes a sense of ritual,” she says.

To Ito, handwriting is more than a simple communication tool. “It is not a basic need. It is about the enjoyment you get at the end of the whole process,” Ito says.

Ito believes handwriting reveals the writer’s emotion and state of mind, so handwritten creations are more expressive and intense. “When you write, you infuse the note with emotional energy and it is almost like giving a piece of yourself away,” she says.

Assistant professor Yang Tian from the School of Journalism and Communication of the Chinese University of Hong Kong points out that handwriting allows us to step away from the hyper-digital world.

“Typewriting allows you to edit before sending. But it is hard for people to edit handwriting unless you rewrite. Therefore, the writer is more mindful of the content written,” Yang says.

“This form allows users to slow down, which prevents the abuse of technologies that are pervasive in our daily lives,” the research specialist in digital media adds.

Edited by Charmaine Choi
Sub-edited by Victoria Fong

An I-Koi-Nic Journey

A longtime member of Hong Kong’s Koi fish community shares what he does and how he got here.

By Liam Hordijk

Despite having about 100 Koi, Aaron Lit Ying-yeung is able to tell them apart. 

“Each Koi has a different and unique pattern,” the 56-year-old says, adding that he used to name his Koi fish, but has stopped as he cannot remember so many names now.

Koi, or nishikigoi, are coloured carp that symbolise good fortune. Lit says that some Chinese people buy the fish believing that they will bring good feng shui and positive energy.

There are many competitions hosted by Koi organisations – such as the Belgian Koi Society and the Koi Club Singapore – held in places like China and Japan to determine the most beautiful Koi every year. 

Lit adds that a quality Koi, especially award-winning ones, can be worth a lot.

“One can be sold for USD $1.8 million dollars (HKD $14.1 million). It’s quite crazy,” Lit says. 

Lit has raised several award-winning Koi in his own fish farm – measuring around 40,000 square feet – in the New Territories, since the 90s.

They include a Koromo Showa that took home this year’s 80-to-85 cm division champion prize at the 35th Hong Kong Koi Show.

“Whenever she joins a competition she wins something,” Lit says, adding that she won her first prize in 2017, and has done so on five occasions up until now. 

Judges appraise a Koi on body shape, colour, and pattern. Lit points out that an ideal Koi would have a big, long, and symmetrical body shape, rich colours, and a well-defined pattern. 

Lit says the rarity of a quality Koromo Showa like his own gets it additional points from judges. He adds that few breeders want to raise this kind of Koi because they are not known to sell for a lot.

A Koromo Showa has a white base with red markings, and blue-black shapes on top of or connected to its red areas.

Aaron Lit Ying-yeung measuring one of his farm’s Kohaku – a white-bodied Koi with red markings.

Visiting his Koi farm at least twice a week, Lit says, “I will stay there for around two hours, because there’s a lot of things to do.” He has to observe the condition of the fish, refill the solar-powered feeders, and check the electric pumps. 

When he is not at the farm, the farm’s landlord living close by would help look after the fish. 

One of Aaron Lit Ying-yeung’s solar-powered Koi feeders at his farm.

Lit says his favourite part of the visit is the final step – meeting with some of his friends from the Hong Kong Koi Club who have their own farms in the same area. After their caretaking chores, they bond whilst eating together nearby. 

“We call it ‘chui shui’ in Cantonese (吹水; chit-chatting in English)”. We treasure this time, talking about Koi or other things,” he says. 

“We treasure this time, talking about Koi or other things,”

Errand Runner Turned Expert

Lit’s love for Koi began when he was in his final year at university, whilst running an errand for his then-girlfriend’s family. Believing Koi would bring the family good fortune, they sent Lit to purchase some for their newly built fish tank.

He became fascinated with Koi because, unlike marine fish, every one of them has a noticeably unique pattern.

“At that moment I fell in love with Koi. After that I joined the Hong Kong Koi Club. And then I started to buy and raise Koi,” Lit says.

He also finds excitement in raising each Koi to their full potential, which he compares to chasing a dream.

“When a dream comes true, it will give you a lot of satisfaction, though of course sometimes a dream cannot come true,” Lit says.

After 33 years as a member, Lit is now an honorary president of the Hong Kong Koi Club, an organisation with about 100 members. Lit says that although he was not a founding member, he worked very hard for the club to earn the top position.

When Lit first joined he discovered that the community included some upper class people, such as listed company CEOs and entrepreneurs.

“But when we go together to visit fish farms, we are just like friends,” the 56-year-old says.

Seeing many of his friends from the club being self-employed inspired him. He left the South China Morning Post, where he worked in the property advertising sales department immediately after graduation, and established his own advertising firm.

“When a dream comes true, it will give you a lot of satisfaction,”

Joining the club also led him to begin his journey of becoming a certified judge (CJ) – the highest level possible – for Zen Nippon Airinkai (ZNA), a body that provides judging officials for Koi competitions.

It was a long process that took Lit a total of 12 years that he attended 11 competitions, six seminars, and three examinations. He worked his way up from being a Koi club member, trainee judge, local judge, assistant CJ, and finally, a CJ. 

Aaron Lit Ying-yeung as a judge in Japan. (Photo courtesy of Aaron Lit Ying-yeung)

Lit says that his Koi journey has enriched his life in many ways, but notes the achievement he is proudest of is the special relationships he has formed with fellow enthusiasts along the way.

“Winning the Koi competition with my own Koi, and becoming a certified judge made me feel very successful.” he says. “But after so many years, I treasure the friends I made around the world much more.”

“Because we share a common interest in Koi – and there’s not any profit or business interests involved as this is just a hobby for us – my friendships with these people feel quite real and pure,” Lit adds. 

More Good Times Ahead

Before the pandemic, Lit and his wife visited Japan five or six times a year to attend Koi competitions but had been forced to stay in Hong Kong due to COVID-19.

“Now I can freely go anywhere to visit my friends and judge in competitions,” he says.

Lit is also hopeful about spending more time at his Koi farm when he retires but has no plans to expand its size. He will continue raising Koi that are young and inexpensive instead of buying Koi that already have accolades.

“Trying to judge which Koi has the most potential, then raising it to compete is a much more satisfying process,” he says.

The ZNA judge believes those who are interested in Koi should also go to competitions to familiarise themselves with what truly impressive Koi look like.

Lit says, “When you look at other people’s Koi, you will discover how beautiful a Koi can be.”


Edited by Yap Ying Ye
Sub-edited by Karmen Yip

Harder Access to Foreign Games

Mainland Chinese players find it difficult to play foreign online games.

By Kamun Lai

University student Hu Xiaozhe has to borrow a telephone number from a friend in Hong Kong to register a new account and buy a VPN service, in order to play foreign video games including those developed by Blizzard in China.

Blizzard had to shut down all services in China in January 2023, as the American game company lost its publishing license to launch games in the country.

“I play the game less frequently because the VPN service is not stable sometimes. When the internet connection is poor, I lose the connection with the server when playing. This really kills the fun,” she says.

China’s “Great Firewall” blocks players from China accessing international game servers to play with foreign players. Chinese players can only play foreign games by using a game-only VPN to bypass the firewall.

Players need the game booster to connect to unapproved foreign games.

“It was hard for me, but there is no way apart from getting used to it,” she adds.

Hu first played the blizzard games in 2022 and she has spent RMB¥600 (US$ 88.89) on them so far. After transferring to a new server, she has to restart everything there. 

“I feel terrible about losing everything I built up in the game and products such as skins and loot boxes I bought last year,” she says.

Blizzard said in a January statement on Weibo, one of the biggest social media in China: “We are discussing with new potential publication partners about continuing to offer Chinese players a high-quality and stable service.”

Overseas game developers like Blizzard are required to find a Chinese partner to apply for a publishing license from National Press and Publication Administration (NPPA) in order to launch games in China.

“We are discussing with new potential publication partners about continuing to offer Chinese players a high-quality and stable service.”

Blizzard said in a January statement on Weibo

Chinese players are only allowed to play games approved by the authorities.

No foreign game was launched in China from July 2021 to December 2022. Mainland authorities started to grant approval to imported games again near the end of 2022. The number fell from 76 in 2021 to 44 in 2022 according to NPPA. 

As Blizzard failed to renew its 14-year licensing agreement with NetEase, a Chinese technology company, seven Blizzard games were withdrawn from China. Both sides stated that they were unable to agree on key financial items in their announcements.

Another main reason for the breakup was intellectual property ownership and control over the data of millions of Chinese players, according to Bloomberg news reported in November 2022. “NetEase never sought to control IP rights tied with Blizzard,” NetEase said on Weibo in January. 

No foreign game was launched in China from July 2021 to December 2022.

Another foreign game player Huang Zekai used to play online games for one and a half hours every day. But he had to stop playing, as Blizzard closed its Chinese server in January.

 “I would not play the blizzard games anymore because I am disappointed with Blizzard’s decision to shut down all services in China. I think Blizzard games will not be available soon. The games we lost carry players’ memories of playing with friends. We have spent so much  time and money practising skills to win games we play,” Huang says.

“I think the policy is taking a step backwards. Censorship in China is further tightened. Foreign game developers have to revise their design, especially those with bloody and violent images, ”  he adds.

Blizzard game players bid farewells on the bullet screen. (Photo courtesy of Huang Zekai)

Professor Anthony Fung Ying-him at the Chinese University of Hong Kong’s School of Journalism and Communication, thinks Blizzard hopes to stay in the China market.

“The decision of two companies certainly has commercial considerations, but I think they should consider the rights of the general players when closing the server. For an overseas game introduction decision, the business consideration of the game developer and the policy environment are inseparable,” Fung says.

The NetEase agreement contributed about three per cent of its revenues, or about US$ 264 million, according to Blizzard’s Third Quarter 2022 Financial Results.

Fung also points out that foreign companies must localise themselves such as turning the colour of blood into green if they want to join the Chinese market.

Foreign games need to be localized such as turning blood green.

“If the profit cannot cover the cost invested in game localisation, the game company will not enter the Chinese market,” he says.

“China is not the only country which practises censorship. This is not only to protect their domestic markets, but also to improve regulation of the internal market. It will take a long time to achieve a balance between market health and cultural diversity,” the professor adds.

Edited by Fiona Dongye
Sub-edited by Esme Lam

More Thai students study Law after Social Movement in 2019

More Thai youths study law after the social unrest in the kingdom.

By Nutcha Hunsanimitkul

Upset by the government’s crackdown on protestors during the 2019 social movement in Thailand, more young people choose to study law in hopes of reforming the legal system in the kingdom.

One of them is Thanawat Kleawkla, who now studies law at Chulalongkorn University.

“I wanted to study political science but I changed my mind after witnessing the injustice in the social movement. Police fired tear gas and water cannons to disperse people who were just expressing their discontent. It was really brutal. Protest leaders were put into indefinite detention without a fair trial. What the government did was unjust to the people,” he says.

Protestors with a banner showing “We are not dust”, a phrase they use for justice and no longer to be controlled by the authorities, during the social movement in Nakhon Pathom, Thailand.

“One of the protest leaders was detained while pending trial. He even did a hunger strike for more than a month to request bail. According to the constitution, an accused person must be assumed innocent during a trial and granted bail. What they did was above the law,” the 20-year-old student adds.

Kleawkla is determined to apply his knowledge in law to promote justice in Thailand.

“I want to be a legal academic and advise the government on how to set up a fair system, and reform the legal system in Thailand to make sure everyone is equal before the law,” he says. 

Another law major student Maysa Siripun* decided to study law after reading news about crackdowns on protesters during the movement in 2019.

“Rubber bullets and water cannons were used to suppress the demonstration. Why did the government need to use violence against its own people? That was too much,” she says.

“The social movement has taught me that politics affects our everyday lives. We all have to live with it. I want to know if those protests were really illegal as the government claimed. I want to know my rights and how to exercise them. That is why I want to study law. I do not want to be tricked by government propaganda,” the Year Two Student adds.

Siripun wants to work for the government to ensure that everyone can exercise their rights in Thailand.

“I want to be a state attorney to make sure everyone has a fair trial in court. I want to be a voice against the unfair judgment”

Thailand’s political conflict and an increasing number of prospective law students

The pro-democracy movement has been calling for the resignation of Prime Minister Prayuth Chan-Ocha, the former army chief who seized power in a 2014 coup and was later appointed as the premier. Disillusioned by years of military rule, protesters demand amendments to the constitution, a new election, and an end to the harassment of rights activists and state critics.

They are also calling for curbs on the king’s powers, a demand that led to unprecedented public discussion of an institution long shielded from criticism by law.

After the social movement, the number of students applying to study law has sky-rocketed. The total number of undergraduate law programme applicants increased from 10,396 in 2019 to 29,366 in 2021. 

In 2022, the number of applicants grew to 30,690 students, according to the Council of University President of Thailand (CUPT). 

Nearly 10,000 students applied for the undergraduate law programme of Thammasat University in 2022, compared to 1,910 in 2019.  The number of applications Chulalongkorn University received also increased from 778 in 2019 to 1,076 in 2022.

Law students having a lecture at Thammasat University. (Photo courtesy of Sutthita Suknut)

Hope to rebuild the fundamental laws

Law major Sith Opasjirawiroj is another student who wants to build a better legal system in the country by studying law. 

“The government used the law as a tool to suppress people and silence different political views by cracking down on protests and putting opposers in jail. This is not how democracy works,” he says.

Opasjirawiroj believes that in a democratic world, everyone has the right to exercise freedom of expression.  

“Diversity drives democracy. We share our views and debate to reach the best solution. Thai people still do not understand the concept of democracy, which is a major reason why Thailand is trapped in a loop of revolution. I want to be a law professor and educate the public about democracy,” he adds.

A new and vivid page for Thailand

Munin Pongsapan, the dean of the faculty of law at Thammasat University Munin Pongsapan has observed that more students have applied to study law over the past three years.

“I find students become more active in class discussions especially when they make comments about cases related to arrests made during the social movement. They have also become more proactive in holding activities related to having political dialogues and public policy discussions,” Pongsapan says.

The professor believes the future of Thailand is brighter because his students are enthusiastic about building a better legal system nowadays. 

“These students have witnessed the court’s failure in defending justice during the social movements. They want to make a change in Thailand,” he adds. 

*Name changed as requested by the interviewee

Edited by Phoebe Chu
Sub-edited by Y
ap Ying Ye

A Childhood Dream, A Love for Diplomacy

Hong Kong and Macau’s Consul General of Malaysia Muzambli Markam talks about his journey in international diplomacy.

By Ryan Teh

Before being deployed to his current post as Consul General of Malaysia in Hong Kong and Macau, Muzambli Markam was involved in China affairs as part of the team that secured the loan deal of two giant pandas in 2012 to commemorate 40 years of diplomacy between China and Malaysia.

Markam was also the Consul General Of Malaysia of Guangzhou from 2014 to 2018.

The two pandas are named Fu Wa and Feng Yi. The names were chosen based on the results of a national competition to name the furries. 

“It was one of the highlights of my career to play a role in that,” he says.

Markam and his family have settled in Hong Kong since their arrival last September.

Fluent in both Cantonese and Putonghua, Markam feels at home in the city, but his wife is still adjusting to the new posting.

“For my family, it is still a bit challenging as they can understand Putonghua but not Cantonese,” the father of two says.

“I have yet to single out my favourite Hong Kong food, maybe ngau yuk beng (pan-fried beefcake). But we love the ambience of the city, the culture actually does not feel too different to that of Guangzhou,” he continues.

Ngau Yuk Beng (Pan fried beef cake) is Muzambli Markam’s favourite  Hong Kong food. (Photo courtesy of Muzambli Markam)

Even when he is off the clock, Markam still works at nurturing relationships, but on a personal level.

He spends weekends golfing to network. He even plays badminton with colleagues from the consulate as well.

“But I like to spend most of my free time with my family. Sometimes duty requires me to be away from my family for months. This has taught me to cherish the time I have with them.”

“An average posting is around three years but I hope to spend a longer time here [in Hong Kong], maybe five years. I want to provide stability for my family. There is also a lot of opportunity for us here in Hong Kong to promote Malaysia and further expand our network,” he adds.

Markam’s main duty as Consul General in Hong Kong and Macau is to oversee the issuing of Malaysian passports, marital registration, and provision of letters of good conduct for work permits in Hong Kong.

“We work to ensure the welfare of Malaysians here. I even help out students with their assignments from time to time” he says, adding that he tries to provide Malaysian students with any relevant resources that can help them in their school work.

Muzambli Markam was having a meeting with Macau’s Chief Executive Ho Iat-seng. (Photo courtesy of Muzambli Markam)

International Duty

The 45-year-old diplomat served as the First Secretary at the Malaysian Embassy in Prague from 2008 to 2011. 

Markam has fond memories of Prague. He thinks the city’s value lies in its architecture and culture.

Throughout his 20 years of experience in diplomacy, Markam says his previous postings cannot compare to Hong Kong.

“Prague is rich in architecture and culture. Guangzhou has its strengths, it is the manufacturing hub of China, but while both are fantastic, Hong Kong offers something more. Being an international city as well as a financial centre and hub of services, the dynamics here make the job very interesting,” he says.

Markam’s love for diplomacy began when he was a child.

“As a kid, I always watched television with my father. It was the news stories about foreign diplomats visiting Malaysia that caught my eye. Seeing officials receiving dignitaries at Kuala Lumpur International Airport and ceremonies held for them made me want to be one of them,” he shares.

Despite his passion for diplomacy at such a young age, he failed to land the programme he wanted to study at university.

“My degree and masters are actually in accountancy. I had originally applied to study international relations but unfortunately I did not get in,” the Xiamen university graduate laughed when recalling his university days.

Markam says his passion for his job has never wavered even though he faces challenges at work. 

“Being a Consul General more often than not is troubleshooting. When issues arise, find the best solution. Everyday is a different scenario. It drives me and gives me motivation,” the diplomat says.

During Chinese New Year, Muzambli Markam was celebrating with members of the Malaysian Association of Hong Kong. (Photo courtesy of Muzambli Markam)

Post-Pandemic

With travel restrictions in Hong Kong and Macau lifted, promoting Malaysian trade and tourism is a major part of his work. Agencies such as Tourism Malaysia and Malaysia External Trade Development Corporation (MATRADE) are his working partners.

China and Hong Kong, accounting for 23.11% of Malaysia’s total exports in 2020, are among Malaysia’s largest trading partners, according to the World Integrated Trade Solution by the World Bank.

In 2021, Tourism Malaysia reported that China was Malaysia’s third largest tourist market.

Markam and his consulate hosted a series of seminars, networking meetings and a gala dinner promoting Malaysian tourism when a delegation was sent to Hong Kong by Tourism Malaysia last year.

Though the diplomat welcomes the opening of borders, he shares that the impact of the pandemic still lingers around.

“The biggest challenge for us [in the post-COVID period] is to get airlines to increase the number of direct flights between Hong Kong and Malaysia,” he says.

Markam points out the situation at the Hong Kong International Airport is still constrained due to the lack of manpower to handle an increasing number of flights.

“Slowly but surely, we will overcome this” he adds.

Edited by Esme Lam
Sub-edited by Charlie Chun

Elderly Overwhelmed by E-ordering

Elderly face challenges when ordering food with QR code in dim sum restaurants.

By Nicole Li

Struggling to order dim sum with a QR code system in a Chinese restaurant, Chan Wing-hung frowns at her phone.

“I used to choose what to eat on a dim sum list with a pencil and it is easy to handle. But now I do not know how to place an order using my phone,” the 65-year-old woman says.

Chan loves going to Chinese restaurants for tea and dim sum with her family and she now finds the restaurant she has visited frequently for more than 10 years an alien place. 

“I used to go to the Chinese restaurant every week but now I only go there twice a month because I do not know how to use the QR code,” the grandmother says. So she now only goes there every other week with her family who can order food for her.

Customers scan the QR code to
order food.

Digital orders in restaurants rose 124 per cent in the year ending March 2021 compared to 2020 according to a report from the NPD Group, a consumer spending research firm. 

Some Chinese restaurants in Hong Kong, such as the Starfood restaurant and Lei Bistro, have adopted the e-ordering system. 

Customers use their own smartphones to scan a QR code to get a restaurant menu, pick dishes they want and put them into a shopping cart, and then wait for food to be served.

Instructions listed on a QR code order sheet.

“I do not know where to scan the QR code but the managers are too busy to help. Almost half of the elders in restaurants cannot order food successfully with their smartphones. Everyone needs help,” Chan says. 

She finds the instructions given by the restaurant are not clear enough.

“There are some wordy instructions on the QR code paper. But the actual operation is hard to understand without pictures demonstrating how to use it.”

The elderly recalls she once waited for about 20 minutes to get help from the restaurant manager to order food through the digital platform.

“Overall, the dining experience was poor, and I may switch to other restaurants where customers can order with a pencil and a dim sum list,” she adds.

Restaurant workers also dislike e-ordering. 

“Many old people complained and asked for help on the first day when the new system was launched. It was really a hectic day, especially during the peak hour,” *Mary Wong, a waitress working in Tao Heung’s Yuen Long branch says. 

“They did not know how to scan the QR code. Some of them might double-click the options and could not find the confirmation list,” she adds.

“But it is better now as more people are adapting to the system. We do not have to handle so many complaints these days,” she explains.

Committee member of the Association for Hong Kong Catering Services Management Simpson Chung Chi-yeung says the association offers a series of workshops for elderly to help them better understand how technology devices work. 

Restaurants used to fully rely on
screen monitors to process food
orders (Photo Courtesy of the As-
sociation for Hong Kong Cater-
ing Services Management)

“It takes time to build a habit, especially for elderly. Still, it is important for restaurants to develop user-friendly interfaces for customers,” the researcher says. 

“The elderly not only face the problem of e-ordering, but also numerous technological difficulties,” he adds.

Professor Yang Tian from the School of Journalism and Communication at the Chinese University of Hong Kong believes old people are suffering in the digital age.

“This is not just a problem appearing in restaurants and delivery systems—the whole internet ecosystem is not elderly-friendly which altogether accounts for the exclusion of the elderly.”

“The current interface designers often assume that the e-ordering platforms are mainly catered to young generations, while largely overlooking the need of the elderly. So, the restaurants and the delivery platform should improve the learnability of their interface,” Yang adds. 

Restaurants are adopting electronic ordering to reduce costs and hygiene problems, according to Professor Oliver Chan Ngai-keung of the School of Journalism and Communication at the Chinese University of Hong Kong. 

“E-ordering minimises human contact especially during the pandemic,” he says.

Customers receive dimsum orders by scanning QR codes.

Chan mentions that old people take more time to get used to e-ordering because they are new to technology.

“But once the old people are familiar with the electronic ordering system, they can use it easily. They also faced difficulties using Alipay at first but now they have no problem. They just need more time to get familiar with new tools,” he adds.

*Names changed at interviewees’ requests.

Edited by Karmen Yip
Sub-edited by Esme Lam

Never Apart: Hongkongers Emigrating With Pets

More and more pets are left behind by emigrating pet owners in Hong Kong because of complicated and costly procedures, some still try their best to stay with their furry friend despite the difficulties.

By Hannah Tang

Well-planned and willing to spend, Nicole Li* and her family left Hong Kong and moved to Britain with Bailey, a two-year-old corgi.

Having settled happily since August 2022, Li noted the family began finding ways to leave with their dearest pet once her husband successfully secured a job transfer within his company from Hong Kong to Britain in late 2021.

“Due to the rapid changes in politics, economics  and even the education  system in Hong Kong in recent years, there were many uncertainties we saw when planning our future,” Li says, adding the family insisted on leaving Hong Kong together with Bailey.

Noting that pet emigration involves lots of procedures and documents and the family was busy with work at that time, Li says it is worth paying HKD$66,000 (USD$8,435) and several thousand dollars of incidental fee to a pet relocation agency.

“It was not easy for sure, but I treat Bailey as my child. We are glad that she came here with us without any separations,” Li says.

Bailey moved to London, Britain in August 2022.

“Honestly, it would be quite stressful if we didn’t find the agency,” she says.

The agency provided the family with vet visits and helped arrange a Cathay Pacific direct flight for Bailey, and most importantly, got the signed health certificate from the Agricultural, Fisheries and Conservation Department (AFCD).

Li points out that if a pet owner can do every single procedure on his or her own, the cost can be just one-third of hers.

“I truly understand the difficulties of emigrating a pet, especially the divergence in opinions among family members,” Li says, adding that pet owners should try every means to emigrate with their pets.

“I will always call Bailey as ‘she’ not ‘it’, she is our family, so do other pets in other families”

In recent years, many Hong Kong people are leaving the city. Some choose to or are forced to abandon their pets.

According to the Census and Statistics Department, the city’s population fell from 7.52 million to 7.29 million from the end of 2019 to mid-2022.

A survey conducted by the Hong Kong Institute of Asia-Pacific Studies of the Chinese University of Hong Kong in 2022 indicated that, among 705 interviewees aged 18-year-old or above, 28.4 per cent intended to emigrate and the top push factor was the “excessive political disputes or unstable politics”.

The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals notes it has seen an increase in pet abandonment cases amid the recent emigration wave.

“In 2020/2021 alone, we received 377 animals surrendered to us by their owners,” the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA) stated on their Facebook page.

Still, many Hong Kong people are willing to spend time and money to leave the city with their pets

Like the family of Li, Marsha Yeung* and her husband are glad to relocate with their pets.

They moved to Canada in May 2022 with two cats, Fuji and Goji, both two-year-old, after more than two years of pre-emigration preparation.

Fuji and Goji moved to Vancouver, Canada in May 2022.

“It is good that Fuji and Goji could fly to Canada with us in the same plane so that we can look after them during the flight,” Yeung says.

Air Canada allows fully weaned cats and small dogs in the cabin. Yeung paid HKD$1,200 (USD$153) for the seats of her two cats.

Fuji and Goji’s departure from the Hong Kong International Airport in May 2022.

She also spent another HKD$2,600 (USD$330) for rabies vaccinations as required by the Canada government.

“Fuji and Goji were in our emigration plans at the very first stage as they’re part of our family. You never leave them behind, just as families having human kids.”

“If we’re not able to bring along Fuji and Goji, we wouldn’t have emigrated,” she adds.

The Hong Kong Society for Abandoned Animals (HKSAA) founded in 1997 amid the city’s migration wave in the 90s, points out that the decision of abandoning a pet may cause severe consequences, and it may even cause the death of the pet.

HKSAA has also received a significant increase in requests for assistance on how to bring pets along with them to other countries.

Holding the motto “Never Kill Never Abandon”, HKSAA suggests pet owners to be aware and make sufficient preparation beforehand in regards to the varied regulations among countries, also to seek a legal and proper channel to bring their pets abroad.

HKSAA encourages owners to try bringing along the pets with them. Owners could reach out to the association for emigration procedures consultations and pet emigration service providers referrals .

Life expectancy of pets can be 10 to 20 years. The association strongly recommends owners of senior pets to stay and accompany their pets for the rest of their lives.

“If owners are not able to bring their pet together, they ought to help settle down the life of the pet before leaving and ensure the life quality of the pet,” the association says.

Table 1 Britain and Canada’s policies on pet immigration
Notes:
1. No restrictions imposed on the exportation of pets from Hong Kong unless they are endangered species according to the Agricultural, Fisheries and Conservation Department.
2. Specific terms and conditions are imposed for different species in different countries.
3. Official website version shall prevail.

*Names changed at the requests of the interviewees.

Edited by Lily Wang

Sub-edited by Fiona Dongye