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Representing Germany abroad

The German Consul General in Hong Kong shares her diplomatic work around the world, and what inspired her to become a diplomat.

By Jette Kremer

The life of German Consul in Hong Kong, Dr. Annika Bolten-Drutschmann, is defined by constantly moving between countries. Be it in Indonesia, Russia or Iraq. Her job has just taken her to Hong Kong.

“In my job, there is actually no typical day here at the Consulate General in Hong Kong – and I enjoy that a lot,” she says adding her work varies from political analysis , writing reports, organising events, accompanying delegations or networking or filming a video.

After being stationed in Baghdad, the capital of Iraq, alone, where she had a personal protection detail 24/7, Dr. Annika Bolton-Drutschmann, a German Consul General, is enjoying the peaceful lifestyle in Hong Kong with her family.

Hong Kong’s hiking trails and orderly public transport offers comfort for her demanding work.

“On the weekends, I am always on the way up somewhere on the hiking trails with my husband and kids,” she says. She also spends a lot of time in Happy Valley where the kids play football. She cites Dragon’s Back as one of the trails on her bucket list.

“What really impresses me is the calm and mutual respect with which Hongkongers board public transport,” she says. She also loves the strong walking culture and how often she sees elderly people exercising taking care of their health. 

“I believe taking responsibility for one’s own body at an elderly age is something that aging societies like Germany and Hong Kong can greatly benefit from,” she says.

Her love for the city extends to its food culture, “My children love dim sum and are big fans of the chain Tim Ho Wan. And the other thing they really love is eating hot pot in Tsim Sha Tsui. That is an absolute highlight for them,” she says.

With locals being pragmatic, she has found Hong Kong an enjoyable place to live in, and a fascinating place for diplomatic work. 

“Hongkongers are goal-oriented, reliable and open,” says Bolton-Drutschmann.

“Sometimes I am a little surprised that Hongkongers are even more rule-loving than Germans,” she says with a laugh. “I’ve also consistently encountered a great willingness to find pragmatic solutions, and I really appreciate that,” she adds.

Citing developing the ties between Germany and Hong Kong as her major duty, the Consul General says, “I believe that Hong Kong and Germany share an interest in preserving Hong Kong’s unique characteristics that are foundational to its success.”

She points out Hong Kong has an international character with its multiculturalism, rule of law, financial sophistication and the excellence of science and research institutions in the city.

“In this quintessential geoeconomic city, it is particularly interesting in the current geopolitical context. So, along with good international schools for my children and a good quality of life, Hong Kong is a very attractive package for me,” she says.

Bolten-Drutschmann dreamt of becoming a diplomat representing her home country and living in a foreign land when listening to a former German ambassador BBC Radio Four in the UK when she was a student.

“From then on, this curiosity about the world out there basically never let go of me. All my career plans and considerations when I did my European Baccalaureate in Italy always had an international dimension,” she remembers. 

She was also inspired by the program to devote to the country she was born in.

“He explained very effectively to a British audience how Germany works, conveying an image of my country that was very close to how I see Germany: a cosmopolitan, liberal country committed to peace, democracy, and freedom. A country that is successful precisely because of its diverse society, a society that worked through the painful lessons from the Holocaust and German crimes during the Second World War,” she says. 

“This image was not widespread in the UK at that time. That’s why this task of explaining Germany abroad, of representing a modern Germany in the world, seemed to me to be a really exciting, important but also challenging task,” she adds.

Bolten-Drutschmann joined the Federal Foreign Office in 2008. Her positions took her to Singapore, Jakarta and Moscow. One of the most challenging but also rewarding roles was her time as Chargée d’affaires at the embassy in Baghdad. 

She explains, “It is very important for us as diplomats to stay well-connected to life and institutions in Berlin. Hence it is key that after four to eight years abroad we spend some time back at the capital before being posted again.” She expects to represent Germany in Hong Kong for the next four years.

To be a good diplomat, Bolten-Drutschmann says, “You need somebody who can balance interests and build trust whilst also having a very clear compass based on the interests and values of the country they represent.” 

“When it comes to one’s own compass, you need, above all, integrity. The diplomatic lifestyle requires flexibility, a lot of curiosity and resilience. As a diplomat, one must not forget that our status derives from our assigned function,” she says.

What is not clear is where she and her family will go after this. The Consul General would like to continue to work on Asian affairs but it depends on what positions are free.

“It’s the challenge of constantly familiarising yourself with new topics, new countries, new networks, and also acquiring new skills, like karaoke singing, the ability to play golf or acquiring knowledge of local art and crafts,” she shares about the charm of her job.

“Depending where you are, these skills help you to work effectively … always having a steep learning curve ahead of me is something I find incredibly fascinating and motivating,” she adds.

Her children turn out to be her best teachers when she tries to learn new things in new places. 

“I believe that culture shocks are largely reserved to us adults. Children approach other people and other cultures with far less prejudice. They are more open-minded and find it easier to adapt. I learn a lot from my children in a new place. They observe life around them with great attention to detail and oftentimes perceive things very differently,” she says.

Looking back on her own path, her advice for students is to seek out interesting experiences.

“The main point is that you should really use this time before you enter the profession to really invest in yourself and all your strengths. This means learning languages and gaining overseas experience, for example,” she says.

“You shouldn’t always follow the well-trodden path. A less used path may be more challenging but it offers new experiences, which may give you more valuable insights into your own interests, abilities and ambitions than following the crowd,” she adds.

For Bolten-Drutschmann, home is not a single place. “It’s really where the people who are important to me are,” she shares, but it is also a personal ritual. “It is always a special moment when the moving boxes are delivered and my books are back on the shelves,” she adds. 

“Perhaps, now that I think about it, there is one ultimate feeling of “being home”: When I have the opportunity to cycle through the bright yellow rapeseed fields of Schleswig-Holstein during bloom,” Bolten-Drutschmann explains with a smile.

Edited by Pauline Yau

Sub-edited by Mike Chu

A Taste of Germany in Hong Kong

A German Michelin chef shares his story of opening a restaurant in Hong Kong.

By Jette Kremer

Moving from a village of 800 citizens in central Germany to Hong Kong, a metropolis of 7.5 million citizens might sound unreal to some, but not to Peter Find. 

Also known as “Chef Peter” on his socials, Find, 60, born and raised in Bersrod in the southwest of the state of Hesse in Germany, moved to Hong Kong over 30 years ago.

Having worked in numerous Michelin-starred Restaurants in Europe, Singapore, Macau and Hong Kong, Find now runs restaurant HEIMAT, which was launched in 2022, in Central.

The entrance of the Restaurant HEIMAT

“Everything here is German from the glasses to the cutlery, even the potatoes. Those are very important to me. In my childhood I used to help my aunts during the potato harvest, and the best part was the breakfast. My aunts would always pack some fresh buns with homemade jam and bring it to the harvest,” he says. 

A typical day starts at 10 a.m. for Find. “When my day ends a bit earlier, I am home around 10 in the evening, and sometimes when it gets late, I get home around 1am,” he says.

“Home is always cozy. A big hug. A place where you cook your favourite food, and I wanted my guests to feel exactly that, like coming home, having a feeling of belonging and being taken care of,”  Find  explains why the restaurant is called HEIMAT, or “home” in English. 

To make sure his guests feel at ease and at home, Find greets and says goodbye to each guest.

“When you have a job that you like, you don’t look at the time or how tired you are. You just make sure you run a bit faster,” he says.

Most think German dishes are sausages or pretzels. By cooking dishes from all regions of Germany, Find wants to refute these stereotypes. The chef highlights, “It is a declaration of love to German cuisine. When I see my guests with finished plates or asking for more, that makes my day,” he says. 

The warmly lit bar at restaurant HEIMAT, reflecting Chef Peter’s attention to detail

Being trained as a butcher when he was 14 for three years back in the 80s, followed by receiving training as a chef, Find found his passion in food. “I cooked for weddings in my village, for as many as 100 people. I was 17,” he recalls.  

Find moved to Switzerland to work as a chef for two years in 1986 and 1987. During that time, he had to cook an eight course tasting menu on the weekends.

“It was nice, and it changed almost every week. It was stressful but I enjoyed it,” he says.  

Eventually, Find made it to his first Michelin restaurant, the Altes Bauhaus in Eberbach in 1988. “Once you’re in, you don’t go back,” he says.  

Having moved from Germany to Switzerland to London and back to Germany to work as a chef, Find found his way to Hong Kong in the 90s when the Asian wave hit German restaurants. 

“Every fine dining kitchen started to experiment, and I realised I wanted to try more,” he says.  

Find applied at different hotels varying from Macau to Thailand and Singapore where he eventually got accepted and from there referred to Hong Kong. 

“Once I got the offer, I sold my car, hugged my mom and left, all within one year,” he says.  

The inside of Chef Peter’s Restaurant HEIMAT and its cozy atmosphere

After working as a chef in Hong Kong for several years, Find made his way to Singapore and Macau and, in 2010, came back to Hong Kong. 

“My wife is from here, and after working abroad for so many years, coming back to Hong Kong, and my wife, felt like coming home,” he says.

Chef Peter recently turned 60. “I was 29 when I moved to Hong Kong. I’ve been away longer than I was in Germany,” he says.  

But there are also things he misses. From watching sports on Saturday evening or reading the sports section in the newspaper on Monday morning to the fresh baked buns from the bakery with homemade jam, or playing soccer with his friends. 

“In a small village like mine, playing soccer was sacred. That was more important than going to church. These are things that are part of you, and of course, that is what you miss every now and then,” he says.  

In Hong Kong one of Find’s favourite food spots is Chongqing Happy Valley. “I go there for the atmosphere and the pineapple buns, that one is really good there,” he recommends.  

Another recommended food spot by Find is Feng Ming House Mong Kok. “They are open 24/7. It is incredible. I go there at least every two weeks to have dim sum,” he says.  

What Find appreciates most about Hong Kong is the friendliness of Hongkongers. Be it a chat with the taxi driver about soccer or walking through a market and everyone greeting each other. 

 “It’s more about the human aspect of the city that I appreciate most, and less about the materialistic one. It’s these little moments with the people that make all the difference,” he says.  

In the future, Find would like to open a restaurant in China.  

“It is still a plan of mine but because Hong Kong is expensive we need to find a place a bit cheaper to rent than here. For now we will wait but it is still somewhere in our minds,” he says. 

It can be seen with how much passion Find contributed to the diversity of Hong Kong and its melting pot of cultures. As Find put it very nicely during the interview, “If everyone had the same taste, everyone would eat the same thing. That wouldn’t be good either.”

Edited by Swara Sanket Kamble

Bringing Germany to Hong Kong and Beyond

Director of Goethe-Institute in Hong Kong shares his journey of cultural exchanges from Germany to the world, and how he thinks of Hong Kong as a work destination.

By Jette Kremer

Moving from Brazil, Latvia, Korea and then Hong Kong, Arendt Röskens, who is from Wilhelmshaven, a city in the north of Germany and around five hours away from Berlin, has lived in different parts of the world promoting German culture.

As the director of the Goethe Institute in Hong Kong, a significant part of his role involves meetings with cultural departments and artists to discuss new project ideas. He is deeply involved in designing these cultural initiatives, which he finds rewarding due to the curiosity and spontaneity of the Hong Kong people.

The institute, with 150 branches in 99 countries, is the official cultural institution of Germany, offering a platform for international cultural exchange as well as learning German.

The entrance to the building in which the Goethe-Institute is located

Events like German film screenings offer a glimpse of Germany while promoting language learning. 

“The German language is not the central theme all the time but is always conveyed in some way,” he says. The director also enjoys attending various cultural events.

Röskens has to rotate every few years to different countries. He came to Hong Kong before settling in the city two years ago. “When I had to apply for a new position after my previous one, Hong Kong was advertised. I already knew Hong Kong and liked it a lot,” he says.

“In terms of work, Hong Kong is extremely interesting due to its rich and dynamic culture. Hong Kong’s global connection is strong, hence there is an interest in the exchange with Germany too,” Röskens says. 

“With all the Filipinas and Indonesians working in households here, and the large Indian and Western communities, particularly from Anglo-Saxon countries, Hong Kong is already a huge melting pot. Of course, this is also evident in the culture, which is less strict in many respects than in other East Asian locations,” he adds.

The Goethe-Institute library offers a quiet space for exploring German literature and language

Based in Hong Kong now, Röskens particularly likes the natural beauty in the city and appreciates its large variety of landforms, from beaches to hills where there are hiking trails. 

“It’s a city with a high quality of life. The infrastructure is very good. Everything works, from public transportation to healthcare,” he says. 

Food is another highlight for him here. “Ichitora Ramen” in Wan Chai is his favourite food spot. “It is a vegetarian restaurant, which can be a little bit hard to find in Hong Kong, and they are very, very delicious,” he says.

Röskens finds it easy to build a social life in Hong Kong where English is one of the official languages. “There is no language barrier. One has the opportunity to build a diverse circle of friends here,” he says.

A glimpse into the art gallery space within the Goethe-Institute in Wan Chai

While enjoying all the fun living in the city, the 56-year-old father also faces challenges about handling family issues. “When you have children, for example, you are facing questions such as education. Is there a German-speaking school, or will the child go to an English-speaking school, or perhaps something completely different?” he says. 

Another challenge, he shares, is the working opportunities for spouses. “They are generally not allowed to work outside Europe if they move with their spouses, only under specific circumstances such as an independent work visa,” he explains. 

“You have to be aware that you’ll be moving again every time. You always have to start from zero. That takes a lot of energy. I really enjoy doing that. But you have to want it,” he adds.

It is not yet known where Röskens will be posted next. “When you go abroad, it’s important to have a job that you enjoy because otherwise you’re bound to suffer,” he said.

Edited by Mike Chu

Sub-edited by Alexa Lau

Hong Kong’s Sports Economy

As the 15th National Games draw large crowds to Kai Tak Sports Park, the event is not only boosting Hong Kong’s sports development but also driving visitor spending, benefiting nearby businesses and the city’s growing sports economy.

The Last Stand of Handmade Dim-sum

Reporters: Christine Ge, Della Qing, Isa He

While over 80 per cent of Hong Kong’s restaurants rely on pre-made dim sum, veteran chef Yeung Ying Fai stands firm, dedicating nearly four decades to preserving the handmade craftsmanship and passing it on to the next generation.

A Cocktail to Beat Your Villains

In a Guangzhou bar, a modern cocktail twist on the “villain-hitting” ritual is helping young people beat back bad energy.

By Flavia Zhou

Feeling overwhelmed by her work and believing a colleague is pestering her, economic consultant Li Keke, went to the Lotus Lounge bar in Guangzhou to get rid of her bad energy by hitting villains.

“Hitting the villain”, or da siu yan in Cantonese, is a traditional Southern Chinese ritual, commonly found in Hong Kong and Guangdong. Usually carried out under bridges, roadsides, and mountainsides, people will pay CNY¥45-455 (US$6.40-$64.00) to a professional, often an elderly woman, to hit a paper bearing the name of the ‘villains’ with a slipper, chanting to drive away bad luck.

But for Li and her friends, they practised the traditional folk ritual by going to the Lotus Lounge bar in Guangzhou and ordering a drink called “Villain Hitting Cocktail.”

“Villain Hitting Cocktail.” (Photo courtesy of Zhao Siyaun)

“My five friends and were really stressed at work. ‘Villains’ surrounded us. We saw a ‘hitting-a-villain’ video on Xiaohongshu, a Chinese social media platform. We decided to go there in August to let out some of our unpleasant feelings,” she recalls.

The bar is often so busy that a customer who wants to order a “Villain Hitting Cocktail” needs to reserve a seat a week in advance.

After ordering the CNY¥138 (about US$19.36) drink, the waiter brought out a wooden box that contained a glass of cocktail and a plastic female slipper inside.

“The ritual involves a paper slip bearing the name of the ‘villain” and a slipper. The waiter strikers the paper with the slipper, chanting a spell to banish bad energy. Finally, the paper will be burned,” the 25-year-old financial worker recalls, adding that customers can also opt for smacking the ‘villains’ on their own.

A waitress performing the “Hitting the Villain” ritual. (Photo courtesy of Zhao Siyaun)

Li feels that bad energy is driven away after beating the villain.

“The colleague no longer disturbs my work after I beat the villain at the bar,” she says.

“Hitting the villain wasn’t just about bringing good luck and driving away bad luck; it was the perfect stress release. The drink made it twice as affective, and the feeling lasted days. It’s my new go-to when things go wrong,” she adds.

Liang Jingxi, a musicology major, agrees that she feels happier after performing the ritual at the bar.

“My ‘villain’ is one of my group mates. She did nothing in our group project. And it made our group get a bad grade in that class. I don’t want to work with such people in other group projects,” the 19-year-old student studying at Nangfang University says.

Gao Sheng, one of the operators of the Lotus Lounge Bar, says that the idea of having the “Villain Hitting Cocktail” is to promote traditional folk ritual.

“We developed this cocktail in 2024 by ourselves. I’m from Guangdong. My colleague and I are passionate about promoting traditional Chinese culture. This was our original intention when making this cocktail. We wanted to preserve this tradition by combining the drink and the custom. The drink is made with saffron and ginger, ingredients traditionally used to replenish one’s energy after the ritual,” he says.

“This cocktail is popular among young people. Usually their ‘villains’ are a toxic ex, a difficult boss, or an annoying colleague,” he adds.

Gao adds that videos about the cocktail have received over 1 million likes after being posted on TikTok and Xiaohongshu by customers in April 2025.

“I believe hitting the villain is not just about getting rid of the villains around you, but also about getting rid of the villains in your heart that make you weak,” he says.

Viral video of the cocktail on TikTok.

His business partner, Li Tong, says it is important to carry forward traditional customs.

“We want to pass down folk rituals in an interesting way by combining them with cocktails. When developing the drinks menu, I want to put traditional customs into our drinks list. Besides the ‘Villain Hitting Cocktail,’ there are also many other cocktails related to festivals or folk customs, such as the ‘Dragon Boat Race’ cocktail with zongzi (sticky rice dumplings) flavour, and the ‘Wedding Cake’ cocktail with fresh red bean paste that has been slowly cooked,” she says.

Edited by Myo Min Htin

Sub-edited by Yilie Lo

Cross-straits residents: Peace is the best

Cross-straits residents believe peace and friendly discourse are the best way forward to avoid conflict.

By Isa He in Tokyo and Xiamen 

Born in Taiwan and raised in Mainland China, Raco Cao* is caught in between, as tension grows in the cross-straits relations.

“My home might be bombed. My flat might be flattened. Now, I have a home in Taiwan and another in Xiamen. But if a war breaks out, I will be homeless,” the university student studying in Xiamen, says.

“If I return to Taiwan, I must join the conscription. Soldiers must follow orders. I do not have any choice. Or else I could be sentenced up to five years in prison, and may also be restricted from leaving the country, wanted for arrest, and have a criminal record,” Cao says.

 “In case of war, I won’t do anything heroic. I might be the first to run away from the battlefield or move to another country, because I’m not a brave person,” the 21-year-old student adds.

His family shares his worries and concerns. “An uncle has warned me to move to another country to avoid being conscripted in Taiwan, as my family thinks survival matters more than politics,” Cao says.

“My family is just being very pessimistic, and I agree. It means I cannot stay in Taichung, my birthplace, or in Xiamen, where I grew up. That means I have nowhere to go,” he says with a wry smile.

Cao believes that engaging in sincere dialogue and candid exchange is the way out.  “Many in Taiwan are sceptical about China. But what the media presents is often a one-sided picture. After living in Xiamen, I think people here are actually very kind. If there were more opportunities for exchange, fear would subside,” he says.

Citing Kinmen as an example, Cao believes it is the key point for people from both sides to learn and get to know each other. 

“Under the mini-three link policy, Kinmen has become a contact point of communication. Now, it’s just a half-hour boat ride from Kinmen to Xiamen. Once people visit each other and interact, they realize we are not so different. What we really need is not political ideology, but to live well in peace,” he says.

In 2001, Taiwan introduced the mini-three links policy, which allowed direct trade, transport, and postal connections between Taiwan’s offshore islets of Matsu and Kinmen and the mainland cities of Xiamen, Quanzhou, and Fuzhou. It resumed in early 2023 after both sides lifted Covid-19 restrictions, allowing Taiwanese residents, their mainland spouses and children, and mainland Chinese students studying in Taiwan to use ferry services.

Cao’s close friend, Lin Su*, a Mainland Chinese, shares his fear and worries.

“I surely feel worried if my friend has to join the army. He is not physically fit, and war is cruel. I fear that something terrible might happen to him,” the 20-year-old Xiamen native says.

She admits that if a war were to break out, she would hope Cao could stay away from fighting. 

“I’d try to persuade him not to participate or even persuade him to take the Mainland side—after all, that’s where he’s lived most of his life,” she says. 

Growing up in Xiamen, Lin says that most locals treat the talk of war as distant and unrealistic. 

“People discuss it, but no one really thinks it will happen. My family sometimes talks about it, but we don’t stock up on food or anything. It feels like something that exists only in the news,” she says. 

Lin also finds online discussion about Taiwan is quite far from the truth from her own experience. 

 “On social media platforms, people are calling for war, but in reality, most people are calm. The internet only amplifies the loudest voices,” she says.

At Xiamen University, Lin is currently enrolled in a course offered by the Graduate Institute for Taiwan Studies, one of the few tertiary institutions that offers such kinds of programme in Mainland China. 

“We have classes on Taiwan’s politics, culture, and daily life. My course is about Taiwan’s social life—it covers politics, history, and even food. There are also several professors from Taiwan teaching in this programme,” the Year Three student says. 

“Most of my classmates had little knowledge of Taiwan’s politics or history before taking this course. But after attending the lectures and discussions, they have become more aware of the complexity of cross-strait relations and differences between life in Taiwan and what they used to think of the island. Some even want to visit Taiwan so that they can have more exchanges with young people there,” Lin adds.

She believes this proximity—both geographical and academic—makes Xiamen a unique bridge between the two sides. “Because we’re so close, we can study and understand Taiwan better. It’s much easier to do real research in Fujian than any other province in China,” she says.

“I just hope there won’t be a war. Peace is the best—and maybe one day I hope I can finally visit Taiwan as a tourist,” she says.

On the other side of the strait, Wang Ling*, who was born in Kinmen and grew up with memories of war, also shared their call for peace. 

“War brings no winners. It only means casualties on both sides. I hope leaders show care for the lives of ordinary people so that tragedy will not be repeated. Whether in Kinmen or Xiamen, no one wants to hear the sound of artillery again,” Wang, a tour guide who also runs a business that curates exhibitions and conducts projects to preserve Kinmen’s heritage and history, says. 

Born in 1985, Wang recalls that houses, ancestral halls, and even temples were once occupied for military use in Kinmen.

“The troops did not have barracks, so they slept at villagers’ homes. Ancestral halls and temples were turned into offices and logistics rooms. Some altars were removed to make space,” she says, adding that no compensation was offered to residents affected by those arrangements. 

Wang says stories of artillery have been shared for generations in families. After 1949, Kinmen became a heavily militarized area. In 1958, during the Second Taiwan Strait Crisis, known locally as the “823 Artillery Bombardment”, the People’s Liberation Army of China fired nearly half a million shells over 44 days, and occasional shelling continued until 1979. Martial law was not lifted until 1992. 

“But a lot of Kinmen people now think conflict will not happen again, because more than two decades of direct links with Xiamen have made the two sides understand each other more,” she says. 

“The economy here depends on tourism. If there were fighting, the tourism industry would suffer badly. That is something no one wants to see,” she adds. 

Wang believes people from both sides want mutual understanding rather than confrontation. “Distance once made the other side seem so distant. Now, people can meet and trade. Communication is the key to avoiding conflict,” she says.

*Names changed at interviewees’ request

(Photo courtesy of Lin Su*)

Edited by Myo Min Htin

Sub-edited by Daniel Paek

GenAI Makes Me Feel Stupid

Screenshot

University students find GenAI useful for getting better grades and efficiency but not for learning. 

By Justin Tai

University student Lau Tsz Ho used to spend hours or even days struggling to solve difficult science questions from classes. He might not find the answers in the end, but he still tried hard.

Now, he just feeds the questions he cannot solve to Generative Artificial Intelligence, better known as GenAI, and gets instant answers with a smart device in his hand.

University student Lau Tsz Ho uses GenAI to tackle science problems on his laptop

“GenAI is not just a tool. It’s my lifesaver. A messiah,” the science major student says.

“If AI disappeared tomorrow, I’d probably be kicked out of my university. Without it, my grades would fall, and I wouldn’t be able to work out answers for my study on my own,” the Year 2 student says. 

Students like Lau emphasise that they use GenAI in accordance with the course outlines provided by their universities for research and learning support. However, they admit they find that despite following these guidelines, they have doubts about whether they are truly learning or just prompting their way through GenAI.

“I feel like I’m not using my brain anymore. I feel dumber the more I rely on AI for schoolwork,” he shares.

“I basically just dump questions to GenAI and hope for the best. Whether it’s about solving complex equations, writing lab reports, or preparing PowerPoint presentations,” he says.

“Sometimes I don’t even know what the machine is talking about, but it sounds smart, so I go with it,” he adds. 

Yet, his grade cards show a different story. “I used to get Bs and Cs. Now, I’m seeing As and A-minuses, even though I’m not actually learning anything,” he says. 

According to a 2025 survey done by the UK-based Higher Education Policy Institute, 88 percent of students in  the UK had used GenAI tools for their assessments, from explaining complex concepts to brainstorming research ideas.

In Hong Kong, universities are responding to this shift cautiously. All eight public universities now offer access to an array of GenAI tools designed to support student learning, from writing assistants to coding tools. These tools are integrated under each institution’s ethical guidelines, which emphasise transparency, academic integrity, and responsible use.

Another university student, Liu Sai Ho was sceptical about the use of GenAI at first, but his view changed after GenAI helped him score A- for an assignment.

“I was hesitant at first. GenAI gives you answers so fast that I don’t need to process anything in my head. I was scared of losing my ability to think critically,” the architecture major student says.

Liu has integrated GenAI into his study after taking a digital literacy course which taught students how to use AI responsibly.

“For my essay on the middle class and poverty in China, I used GenAI to scout sources and analyse the assigned article. It gave me ideas and helped me highlight key points. I ended up earning A- for that assignment,” he says. 

“I feel guilty sometimes, however. I do half of the thinking, and AI does the rest. But it still feels like my learning is coming entirely from the machine. My creative thinking has definitely weakened,” he says. 

Like Lau, Liu is drawn to using AI for better grades and efficiency. 

“Doing coursework ourselves surely helps hone our skills, but GenAI boosts my efficiency so much. I can now finish a paper in less than an hour. It used to take me a whole day. Sometimes its ideas are even better than mine. It’s hard to turn the clock back,” the Year 2 student says.

“It saves time and my grades have improved. But I wonder if I’m trading away my ability to think for convenience. That’s what makes me feel stupid, even when I’m doing well in terms of my grades,” he adds.

Chu Ka Hai, a postgraduate student researching artificial intelligence, believes GenAI makes him do less thinking, despite his rich knowledge about technology. 

“I used to struggle a lot with long essays. So I turned to AI to help me check grammar and develop my ideas. After that, I couldn’t resist using it anymore,” Chu shares. 

“I can’t write grammatically correct paragraphs in English without GenAI now. I tried once doing it on my own, and my draft was full of grammar slips and awkward phrasing. It’s easier to let AI sort it out for me. But that means I’m not really learning English, processing information and forming the structure of a piece of writing myself,” he explains.

Despite the convenience, Chu is aware of the potential risks of the overreliance on GenAI.

“Although I enjoy everything GenAI offers, I worry that we’ll stop using our brains to think and learn. It could be dangerous for humankind and society if people aren’t aware of what’s happening or why, and just keep being fed information by AI,” he adds. 

Dr. Kecheng Fang from The Chinese University of Hong Kong says university courses and curriculum need to be redesigned and reimagined. (Photo courtesy of Kecheng, Fang)

Professor Fang Kecheng of the School of Journalism and Communication at The Chinese University of Hong Kong, who researches the role of technologies such as AI in shaping the media landscape, warns heavy reliance on GenAI might disconnect students from the vital experience of learning and intellectual growth. 

“Learning should be difficult, and even painful. No pain, no gain. If students avoid this pain by relying on AI, they might lose their interest in any learning and future development opportunities,” he says. 

Fang stresses that a university degree is not just about completing assignments or passing exams. 

“It should show a student knows how to learn, has been part of a learning community, and can critically reflect on their lives and society,” he says.

With many students feeling their education lacks meaning in today’s AI-driven world, Fang believes it is high time for universities to rethink their educational approach, rediscover humanity by nurturing human creativity, amplify human values, and preserve human spirits.

“Courses need redesigning and curriculums should be reimagined. Students should learn how to work with AI, how to assess AI’s output, and find their uniqueness that cannot be replaced by AI,” he urges.

Edited by Kieon Paek

Sub-edited by Myo Min Htin

Are You Lonesome Tonight? Swipe To Love!

Young people who turn to dating apps for love hunt still feel lonely, while the dating platforms capitalize this loneliness.

By Suan Yeon

University student Sei Suguro receives 300 likes on dating app Bumble a day, but she still feels lonely.

“I use the dating app when I feel lonely or bored. I have only really liked one person whom I found via dating apps despite having been using them for three years. We met up in real life but we lost touch,” the 23-year-old student says.

“I feel great when a lot of people like my profile. But my self-esteem hits low when these people don’t want to see me again after meeting me in person once. Despite all these likes for my profile in the cyberworld, I still feel lonely,” the Japanese student says.

Digital connections often fail to meet expectations, contributing to feelings of loneliness among users.

The pharmacy major student, who wants to find a boyfriend using dating apps, says most people on dating apps are not serious about fostering relationships. 

“I don’t trust people from dating apps. At this point, I am not even hoping for a serious relationship anymore,” the Japanese student adds.

Graduate student Ariel Migliorini, who has been on the apps for 5 years, has already met hundreds of people. Sometimes the experienced user goes on dates almost every day with different strangers. But none of them has successfully developed into a serious relationship. 

“I have many dates. In Brazil, people use dating apps for one night stands. It is easier to find people in Brazil because people are more open-minded and direct with their intentions than in Hong Kong,” he says.

“The reality is that finding people from the apps is more convenient especially if I am craving some sort of immediate affection. Everyone wants to be loved and everyone wants to fall in love,” the Brazilian student adds.

The 22-year-old student is now taking a break from the apps, but has not deleted them. He has downloaded four different kinds of dating apps such as Tinder and Bumble in the last five years.

A 2025 market report from Statista, an online platform specialising in data gathering and visualisation, points out that the number of dating app users in China reached 82.8 million in 2024. The report adds that in Hong Kong, the number of app users is projected to reach nearly 500,000 by 2029, with the majority aged between 18 and 34.

A 2024 Forbes Health Survey of 1,000 Americans found that more than three-quarters of Gen Z respondents felt burnt out using dating apps such as Tinder, Bumble, and Hinge. According to the survey, respondents of all ages could not find a good connection with someone. They spend an average of an hour on these apps every day. 

A UK cohort study of 1,632 young adults, published in the Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, discovered 12% of them had used dating apps. Meanwhile, the group reported a significantly higher sense of loneliness than non-dating app users.  

Adjunct Associate Professor Lik Sam Chan of the School of Journalism and Communication at the Chinese University of Hong Kong points out that this cycle of hope and disappointment is embedded in the design and business model of the dating app platforms. 

“We really need to represent ourselves nicely when we are on the apps… pick the best pictures and come up with the best opening lines. This sets a gap between the curated online persona and real-life interaction. The discrepancy makes us feel bad about ourselves. If we lack emotional connection from our everyday lives, we feel lonely, and we look for something online,” Chan says.

The academic specialising in researching digital media highlights that the core of the issue lies within marketing promises that do not match reality. 

“Countless dating apps, hookup apps, or marriage platforms’ marketing slogans promise unlimited possibilities, but it doesn’t mean that the choices are within our leagues,” he says.

“It’s a straightforward capitalization of loneliness. Their business models thrive because of our loneliness and desire for connection, as they want to attract as many users as possible,” he adds.

A variety of dating apps exist, but their marketing often capitalizes on users’ loneliness.

He suggests that platforms need to avoid a one-size-fits-all approach. 

“It’s like you’re walking into a buffet and realize at one point that there are too many options and you ask yourself ‘what do I actually want?’. Because the utopia these apps create with theoretically unlimited options leads to discrepancy. They should have more specific features for specific audiences,” he says.

Edited by Yilie Lo

Sub-edited by Alexia Leung

A Historical Building Now Inspiring Future Generations

Once the agricultural command center for Japan’s puppet state, a Changchun building now educates 3000 students, transforming a site of exploitation into a place of educating and reflection.

By Jennifer Liu Wenqi

A building which Japanese once used to control Northeast China has now become a garden of knowledge for students.

This 37,000-square-meter building in central Changchun used to be the Agriculture Ministry of Manchukuo. It is now the campus of the High School attached to Northeast Normal University for 3,000 students.

The Japanese had successfully detached Manchuria from the rest of China, creating the puppet state of Manchukuo under the deposed Qing emperor Pu Yi from 1932 to 1945. 

Assistant principal of the school, Pan Zhen, finds it meaningful to work in a place with such a history. 

“Once a site of a Japanese puppet state where decisions were made to exploit the people in Northeast China. Now it is a campus for grooming young minds,” Zhen says. 

The Japanese Kwantung Army built this building in 1936. In 1948, it was taken over by Northeastern University and later became the High School Attached to Northeast Normal University in 1958.

“The Japanese left behind a very sturdy building with a strong foundation,” Pan says, adding that the original two-storey structure was expanded into a five-storey teaching building in 1994 due to an increase in student number. 

Archived photo of Xingnong Department during its use as a government facility
in the Manchukuo era.

“The first and second floors were preserved in their own original shape featuring Japanese architectural style,” he says.

A native of Northeast China, Pan finds it painful to revisit this period of Chinese history.

“It hurts me to remember how my hometown was invaded. As a teacher, I hope students learn from history,work hard to find a good job and serve the country when they grow up,” he says.

Pan thinks the heritage building is a silent history teacher for all teaching staff and students.

Pan says the older generation finds it painful to recall terrible experiences during the Japanese occupation, but it is important to teach the young generation to learn from history.  

“History teachers at the school tell students what happened at the school building at different times such as the Japanese occupation and World War II,” Pan says, adding that many students have a different feeling for the school after learning more about what happened in the past.

Li Zirui, a student of the school, says he finds it disturbing after learning the history of the school building.

“Learning that the Japanese authorities made decisions that caused massive deathsand the exploitation of people in Northeast China in history class, I feel quite disturbed. It’s strange to think the place where we study was once used to control and exploit people here,” he says.  

Another student Zhang Shijia shares, he feels different when walking around the campus after learning the history of the building. 

“Now when I walk through the hallways, I feel grateful that I can study in this school.  I am lucky that I was born after the war. Thanks to efforts made by generations after the war, we can now live in peace. I am very grateful for this,” he says.

The former agricultural command centre is now the campus of the High School attached to Northeastern Normal University.

Li Minghao, a researcher at the Jilin Academy of Social Sciences, points out the building was the office of the Ministry of Agriculture which sourced crops grown in China and shipped them to Japan. 

“This building was where the Japanese authorities announced policies that exploited the people in Northeast China. It was a symbol of oppression,” he says.  

Tom Li, a graduate now studying in Singapore, recalls a myth about hearing the walking sound of Japanese army boots in the school corridor on the first floor at night. 

“When I was a student of the school, I felt scared when I left school late, though I knew it was a myth and I actually did not hear anything,” he says.  

Pedestrians passing by Xingnong Department on a snowy winter day in Changchun.

The 21-year-old student thinks the heritage building is a solid proof of a painful chapter in history, and it is meaningful to turn it into a site of education. 

“Remembering history doesn’t mean we should hate Japanese people today. We should learn from the tragedy of war – ordinary people always suffer the most in conflict zones,” he says.ing cards with other elderly. 

Edited by Yilie Lo

Sub-edited by Alexia Leung