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Surviving Cinemas in China

Cinemas in China are facing hardship caused by COVID-19.

By Alice Wang in Shandong 

Movie lover Shi Xueyan is happy that he can watch films at movie theatres again without worrying about COVID-19.

“Everyone can buy tickets online in advance with one’s real name. Audiences all wear masks and seats are not fully used. Cinema staffs check everyone’s body temperature at the entrance and disinfect theatres regularly,” he says.

Movie theatres reopened on July 20 as COVID-19 restrictions were lifted in China. Old movies were put on screen to warm up the market and discounted tickets were offered for promotion. A First Farewell was the first movie put on screen after temporary closure which began on January 24 and a record of RMB ¥1.5 million in box-office was reported on the first screening day.

But cinema operators are still facing hardship.

Peter*, manager of a cinema chain in China, says profits from re-screening old movies is very limited because only very few cinema fans like watching old movies at movie theatres.

“Many consumers think it is a waste of money to see a re-run film as they can watch these online. They are interested in the latest blockbuster movies such as Mulan. So, film source is the most important,” Peter says.

Apart from film source, government regulation also hurt cinema business. Cinemas only sold tickets for no more than 30 per cent of theatre’s seats from July 20 to August 14. 

“The box office of Chinese cinemas performed better after the release of a Chinese war movie, The Eight Hundred on August 21. But cinemas still cannot make ends meet because of government regulation,” Peter says. 

“Cinemas still cannot make ends meet because of government regulation.”

This is a screenshot of an online platform
where audiences can buy tickets.

Cinemas now are allowed to sell 75 per cent seats in each movie house. “Before the outbreak of COVID-19, more than 70 films were shown in one day at one cinema, but now the number is cut by half. Cinemas also cannot make money by renting out cinema venues as many companies have cancelled business activities. Many theatres are losing money, as their income cannot cover rents and other expenses,” Peter says. 

Professor Anthony Fung Ying-him, professor at the School of Journalism and Communication at The Chinese University of Hong Kong, points out Chinese cinemas need to diversify movie sources, rather than relying too much on Hollywood movies from America to attract audiences. 

“Hollywood movies such as Marvel’s The Avengers contribute a lot to Chinese box-office. But the reduction of imported blockbusters caused by the tense Sino-US relations will affect operation of movie theatres in China,” Fung says.

Fung also suggests the government introducing short-term relief measures for cinemas. “The government can offer rental discount or waive for cinemas using government land,” he says.

According to news reports by People’s Daily, a state-owned publication, revenue from box-office in the year of 2019 reached RMB ¥64.266 billion. But the figure dropped to zero from January 24 to July 20 in 2020 as all of the 12,000 cinemas in China were forced to close due to the pandemic. China Film Association finds that 40 per cent of them are facing bankruptcy. 

No one lines up for tickets.

Another obstacle that cinemas are facing is competition from streaming platforms. Peter says: “Chinese streaming platforms Iqiyi and Tencent have struck a blow to cinemas as more movie lovers watch movies at home. While cinemas are suffering, these streaming platforms are profiting since demand for home entertainment has jumped during the pandemic.”

But Fung believes online media platforms cannot replace movie theatres. “Televisions have not replaced radios and cinemas. Also, cinemas are not only a venue to watch movies but also a social platform, especially for third and fourth-tier cities in China. Cinemas will not disappear,” Fung says.

Peter also shares Fung’s view. He believes cinema is irreplaceable. “We have faith in cinemas although we are facing various kinds of challenges. Only cinemas can create a unique share of space for audience to appreciate movies and exchange views,” Peter says. 

Movie lover Jeff * also thinks the experience of watching movies is different from watching movies online at home. “When you sit inside a movie theatre, the sights, smells and atmosphere enrich the whole experience. I do not just pay for watching a film, I also pay for the atmosphere a cinema creates,” he says.

“The experience of watching a movie in a cinema is so different from watching a movie online. It is not about the movie story itself, but the immersive cinematic atmosphere and the collective experience. For us, movie fans, a cinema is like a palace. Going to a cinema to watch a movie is a pilgrimage,” Jeff says. 

*Names changed at requests of interviewees 

Edited by Lasley Lui, Regina Chen

Sunlight through the Cracks

Running online stores is becoming a popular career choice for graduates hit by the pandemic.

By Agnes Lam

Janice Yeung, 22, a graduate of the class of 2020, is now running her own online boutique Twosloth with her friend who also graduated this year. They sell clothes imported from Japan on their Instagram online shop.

The labour market is gloomy for fresh graduates due to the pandemic. Yeung thinks it is a great opportunity for her to start her own business instead of looking for a full-time job. 

“We think that we have nothing to lose,” Yeung says. “The tough job market during the pandemic discourages me to look for full-time work. Starting my own business is a better choice for me,” she says.

The unemployment rate of people aged 20-29 in April and June 2020 rose to 11.7 per cent from 5 per cent in the same period of 2019. 

Yeung started shopping from Instagram boutiques since her secondary school days. She has been a customer of online boutiques for over five years.

She started preparation work with her partner for their online store in May after their last school term had ended and invested around HK$10,000 in their business. Now they have over 1,400 followers on Instagram since they launched their business in July. 

But not everything goes well for Yeung and her partner. They sometimes have different views about how to advertise and market their products and it takes them some time to settle their differences.

They take reference from other competitors and conduct trial and error. For example, they try posting at different times to learn posting on Sundays can help gain more traffic.

Kwong runs both a physical and online store as her full-time career.

Eva Kwong is also a graduate of the class of 2020. She runs an online store Gem Palace selling crystals on Instagram. 

When Kwong was a secondary school student, she had one online shop selling accessories but it did not work well. She believes that her failing experience has helped her succeed this time around. 

“I thought job hunting might not go well in the current situation of the pandemic so I build my career by expanding my business,” she says. 

“I thought job hunting might not go well in the current situation of the pandemic so I build my career by expanding my business.”

Kwong says starting an online shop is like a stepping stone that helps her set up a physical shop in Kwun Tong in April 2020.

“The financial cost of starting a retail store is three to four times more than an online business,” Kwong says. The profit from her online business was channelled into investing in her physical store.

Unlike many other businesses, Kwong’s business benefits from the pandemic. “More people are buying crystals due to the pandemic. Crystals can help people, as they counteract negatives brought by the pandemic,” Kwong explains. 

“E-commerce has benefited from the pandemic,” says Tim Chan, founder of Growth Marketer Academy.

“But it still depends on product categories. Luxuries and cosmetics are having a much tougher time compared to household products which are experiencing a growth in sales volume,” Chan adds.

He points out marketing products is a challenge for business owners. Many e-commerce starters rely on doing advertisement to market their products.

“Many think advertisements are the most important factor in converting traffic to sales. New entrepreneurs usually misunderstand that posting social media advertisements is the only way to market their products,” he says.

Source: The Census and Statistics Department
Participants learn growth marketing through running an e-commerce store.
(Photo Courtesy of Growth Marketer Academy)

Joy Yu, founder of Swag Hair, is one of those who understands it is important for her store to have its own website so that she can have more control over advertisement, promotion and other features on her website.

The 25-year-old started her online store selling hair products in 2015. She started by using Facebook but later switched to her own website. 

She creates videos and blog posts to educate her audience about hair products. This helps her gain another source of income. During the pandemic, logistics service has been affected.

“I was able to make money through making videos during the pandemic. My videos have more views, as everyone is spending more time at home during the pandemic,” Yu says. 

After graduating in 2017, Yu opened a physical Swag Hair store. But the store closed down after a year. She then started focusing on creating marketing content for her business. It brings her more profit than the physical store.

Dominic Chan, associate professor of practice in entrepreneurship at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, says e-commerce is a great way to start a business, as the cost is low.

“E-commerce platforms are mature. The cost to start an online business is low, so anyone can join the market. But this also means that there is great competition. Expanding business to a large-scale is difficult unless your product is unique,” Chan adds. 

“The cost to start an online business is low, so anyone can join the market.”

“Parents will be more open to the idea of having their children doing online business start-up because of poor career prospects in the job market due to the pandemic,” Chan says. 

Edited by Lasley Lui, Regina Chen

Shall We Talk Online?

With a growing demand for mental health services, online mental health services have emerged as an alternative treatment option. 

 By Patricia Ricafort & Isaiah Hui

Elizabeth, who declines to reveal her last name, first started receiving counselling at the age of 13 after being recommended for counselling through a school screening. The Year Three student of the Chinese University of Hong Kong (CUHK) now receives counselling from a private counselling centre. She usually attends in-person sessions at the centre, but she has moved her sessions online last-minute twice as she woke up too late. She did not have enough time to commute from her home in the New Territories to the centre in Central. 

“The online situation was never ideal. It was usually when I was running late but I needed to speak to my psychologist because I have to keep the appointment,” the 21-year-old says.

Her first online session was through a WhatsApp call and her second session was through a Skype call. But she did not find online sessions as beneficial for her as in-person sessions.

“It was hard to fully focus on the session,” the university student says. During her online sessions, she felt distracted and began to multitask due to the online environment. 

Elizabeth also found online counselling inappropriate for discussing her emotional issues. “Online counselling is just a different experience altogether. The environment feels too casual for dealing with heavy issues,” she says. 

Elizabeth finds the process of preparing for physical meetings better for her mental health. 

“I think getting ready for seeing someone (in-person) grounds me more,” she says. “When you go to attend (physical) counselling sessions, you get yourself ready and out of bed. You force yourself to do things that you normally wouldn’t do when you’re very depressed,” she adds. 

She acknowledges the convenience of virtual counselling services, yet she prefers in-person services. 

The Other Side

While Elizabeth did not have a positive experience with online counselling, others find online counselling beneficial. Jessica Yeung Chen-yee is the founder of Common Care Central, an online counselling platform that matches clients with therapists for virtual counselling sessions. 

Yeung started the platform in June this year after personally trying U.S.-based online counselling services and realising that Hong Kong residents could benefit from a similar service.

Yeung acknowledges that some people like Elizabeth would not prefer online services. Yet she observes that others thrive in an online environment.

“With the online format, there is almost like a physical barrier between a client and a therapist. The client feels a lot safer. There is something about talking through a screen that makes some people feel more relaxed,” she says.

Yeung also notes that online services have some advantages over in-person services. She believes that one advantage of online counselling is minimizing the stigma in seeking mental help. “The reason why I wanted to launch an online-only platform is because a lot of the time, online decreases the stigma,” Yeung says. 

“Online, what we’re trying to do, is to minimize (the stigma), by creating an easy and convenient portal where people can ask for help without having to ask for referrals. We want to bring that stigma down so that they’re more comfortable taking their first step,” she adds.

Yeung also notes that online counselling tends to be more cost-friendly compared to in-person services. “We do understand that for a lot of people, affordability is a blocker for them getting help,” Yeung notes. “Online, we are able to reduce a lot of costs,” she adds.

An online platform reduces costs by removing many overhead costs associated with in-person counselling. “Most of the time, the high price range is because of their room rental costs being extremely high in Hong Kong,” Yeung says. “Because the counselling is online, the therapists are able to remove that overhead administrative cost. We also help them with the marketing, so we pass on that savings to clients,” she adds.

A Shift In Attitude

Yeung’s venture comes at an opportune time as mental health among the population has worsened. A survey released by the Mental Health Month Organising Committee revealed that people in the city have worsening mental well-being, especially after the double whammy of social unrest and the pandemic. The survey revealed that the average well-being score for Hong Kong is 45.12 out of 100 in 2020, which is significantly lower than those in previous years.

Source: Mental Health Month Organising Committee

52 out of 100, a score lower than or equal to this in the World Health Organization- Five Well-Being Index (WHO-5) indicates poor well-being and is an indication for testing for depression under ICD-10, the 10th revision of the International Statistical Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems.

With the pandemic stimulating online lifestyles, interest in online counselling is growing as well. Stefani, who declines to reveal her full name, is a Year Four student of the Chinese University of Hong Kong. She began receiving counselling at the CUHK Wellness & Counselling Centre for anxiety and stress after entering university. 

She has always attended counselling sessions in-person, but her sessions were sporadic due to scheduling difficulties. “Sometimes I would not be able to book my counsellor. Either she would only be available at the times when I’m not, or she would be overbooked,” Stefani says. 

She gave up booking counselling sessions in her third year of study at university after her counsellor was overbooked three times.

The 21-year-old is strongly considering restarting her counselling sessions online now due to the pandemic. “I don’t really feel like going to my counselling centre, but I still want to get counselling. So I think I’m going to have to look into online counselling,” she says.

Stefani has not tried online counselling sessions yet, but she believes online counselling sessions are more convenient than in-person sessions. “I’m doing classes online anyway. Online counselling will just make the sessions easier to fit in,” she says. “I can save time on commuting to the counselling centre and that would work better with my schedule,” she adds.

Comparison of Counselling Services in Hong Kong as of October 2020

* $400 fee applies only to Counsellors-in-training, who are students enrolled in a Masters of Counselling programme and practice counselling to fulfil practicum hours.
** $1000 is a special rate offered to those earning less than $30,000 per month, applying only to Cantonese counselling sessions.
Source: Common Care Central, The Hong Kong Psychological Counselling Centre, and St. John’s Cathedral Counselling Service

Choosing the Best Service

Pan Jiayan, associate professor of the Department of Social Work at the Hong Kong Baptist University (HKBU), researches on mental health and online cognitive behavioural therapy. She believes self-motivated, digitally competent clients with high self-learning ability are more suitable to consider online mental health services.

“Online counselling is a supplement to face-to-face counselling. Online counselling can save therapist time by leaving clients to learn various cognitive behavioural skills online by themselves. Therapists can spend less time to help clients apply these skills to deal with their own issues to improve their mental health,” Pan explains in a written reply to Varsity.

“Blended mode of service delivery with both online and offline counselling may be more suitable for the Hong Kong context. It may be a feasible solution in Hong Kong to fill in the service gap of huge demands for mental health service and shortage of mental health professionals,” Pan says.

Edited by Lasley Lui, Regina Chen

The Noisemaker

Chinese indie documentary director Jiang Nengjie speaks about chronicling marginalised groups and uncompromising attitude on film censorship.

By Savoki Zhang in Jiangsu

The quiet release of Miners, the Horsekeeper and Pneumoconiosis raised Chinese documentary enthusiasts’ eyebrows. 

Unlike commercial films with easy access to general audiences through cinemas, in China, independent films are usually aimed at a niche market. For independent filmmakers, covering production costs presents a huge challenge, let alone making money from their craft.

Miners, the Horsekeeper and Pneumoconiosis took its director Jiang Nengjie eight years to make before its release in March 2020. But the documentarian chose to publicise his work by sending download links to film lovers who clicked a button marked “Want to watch” when reading about his new project on Douban, a leading review website in China, for free. 

The 83-minute documentary explores how the use of illegal explosives and mining without protective gear damaged the health of villagers in remote Hunan. Many of them have contracted pneumoconiosis, which is also known as black lung disease. The incurable occupational disease is caused by the accumulation of fine inhaled particles such as coal dust inside the lung. It tops the list of occupational diseases in China.

Born in a rural village in the central province of Hunan, the 35-year-old documentarian pledges to offer a frank portrayal of marginalised groups such as left-behind children, pneumoconiosis sufferers, the LGBTQ+ community and army veterans who are invisible in society.

Miner Zhao Pinfeng (second right) with his family, as featured in the documentary, Miners, the Horsekeeper and Pneumoconiosis. (Photo courtesy of Jiang Nengjie)

Let the Invisible be Seen

Most of Jiang’s works are inspired by his upbringing. The now Guangzhou-based director was born in a mining family. He was also among the first generation of left-behind children who remain in rural regions while their parents leave for work in cities. Jiang has released 10 documentaries since he established his film studio in 2009, among them four are about the subject.

In Miners, the Horsekeeper and Pneumoconiosis, his father and acquaintances from another village, all afflicted with the fatal lung disease, are the protagonists. 

As many film junkies praise him for offering an audacious account of the minority groups, Jiang refuses to label these groups as minorities. “The size of each disadvantaged group is actually huge,” he says. “It is possible that you don’t see them in your world, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist,” he adds. 

The National Health Committee of the People’s Republic of China reported that, by the end of 2018, the total number of pneumoconiosis sufferers stood at 873,000. But according to a Beijing-based charity, Love Save Pneumoconiosis, the number already surpassed six million in 2012. “I have no trust in government statistics,” Jiang says.

For the documentarian, what matters most is the actual living conditions of people, not statistics. “Some people are so obsessed with ‘positive power’ that they always focus on what has been improved and solved, while we (independent filmmakers) reveal what is still needed,” Jiang says. “(For instance,) Left-behind children need their parents most, they also need a relatively fair allocation of educational resource system,” he says. “All these problems won’t just be solved by your sensational ‘positive power’,” he adds.

Miners, the Horsekeeper and Pneumoconiosis went viral online overnight when it was launched in March 2020, topping the film reputation chart on Douban, an online screening platform, for two weeks with a rating of 8.6 out of 10. The work has also sparked a bitter debate. Nationalists on China’s Twitter-like Weibo attack Jiang and one of them demanded Jiang’s arrest for his failure to tell stories about China’s ‘good side’. Some, as Jiang recalls, accused him of fuelling Western criticisms against China.

“These people only care if ugliness and scandals are exposed, they do not care about the existence of ugliness and scandals,” Jiang says.

Jiang Nengjie talks with actors during the shooting of the film, Yun Jie.
(Photo courtesy of Jiang Nengjie)

Trespass the Red Line 

Visibility of Jiang’s documentaries is boosted with more audience. His works are at the same time more vulnerable to be censored, however.

“They (the authorities) sought trouble with me last year. They only banned my films and left me alone this year,” Jiang claims, without further addressing how he was treated.

Jiang has no idea where the red lines lie, but the indie documentary filmmaker vows to navigate the politically hazardous shoals of China’s cultural landscape. “If you don’t advance, you will retreat,” Jiang says. 

Chinese authorities have been tightening the noose on independent films over the past decade. On January 9, the China Independent Film Festival (CIFF) declared its indefinite suspension after 17 years, saying it has become “impossible” to undertake such an event amid the country’s current political climate, and that it has completed its “historic mission” of promoting “films for freedom”.

The CIFF was regarded as one of the largest platforms for Chinese independent works. Founded in the eastern city of Nanjing in 2003, the event was staged 14 times, showing around 1,000 films and documentaries with most of them touching on homosexuality and sensitive political issues which are deemed inappropriate or sensitive by authorities.

CIFF declared its definite suspension on January 9, 2020. (Source: official Wechat account of CIFF)

Stepping on a censorship landmine, Chinese independent filmmakers now find them left with little choice: either altering their works to secure a public release or staying as the embattled nonconformists. 

Jiang did not bring his latest documentary to censors for approval application, knowing that they would either say no or demand a long list of edits. “I prefer not to dishonour myself (by asking censors for approval),” he says.

Independent documentary directors in China have long understood that, without a letter of approval of public screening from censors which they call a “dragon seal”, their works will only reach a handful of hardy Chinese fans – perhaps via a semi-underground film screening at a bar or on college campuses. Losing money is inevitable.

Jiang notices that many people are reluctantly leaving the industry over these years. “With channels of distribution stunted by authorities, …no market can exist in the field,” he laments. Documentary filmmakers like Jiang have no choice but to distribute their works privately, while audience can choose to send them cash equivalent of a cinema ticket via QR codes often seen attached under posters of films. “You can even watch my works on pornography websites,” he adds.

Discern Reality from Ambition

Jiang has his feet on the ground despite his ambition in documentary. “I am just a layman in daily life, occasionally pretending to be morally lofty in my works,” Jiang says as he smiles.

Born in an impoverished family, Jiang now has a family to take care of. The documentarian has two children, with the older one just started primary school this September.

Jiang now supports his filmmaking aspirations by making videos for weddings and commercial advertisements. Every dollar counts. Jiang recalls when shooting a wedding video in a village years ago, he tried every means to get an extra RMB ¥50 when the family was only willing to pay him RMB ¥600. Producing commercial advertisements can help finance his ambitions more that he can earn RMB ¥30,000 for one episode though.

“I can just live for money, but that kind of life won’t make me happy,” Jiang says. “On the other hand, I cannot live just for pursuing my ambition,” he adds.

In his works, the documentarian eschews epic documentaries of a society in favour of sensitive examinations of individuals. Jiang wishes to document a wrenching period in the Chinese society. “Some people prefer to use words to express themselves, while some others prefer images. As for me, I use documentaries because it is more powerful,” he says.

“Making documentaries is just my job. The job is neither great nor trivial compared with other ones,” Jiang says. 

Having witnessed suffering on the fringe of Chinese society, Jiang remains optimistic. “I will keep on expressing my thoughts as long as I haven’t lost hope in this society,” he says.

Edited by Lasley Lui, Regina Chen

Preserving the Past

Architect Shu Tan shares his design philosophy and his life in Dali and Hong Kong. 

By Coco Zhang in Shaanxi

Shu Tan has not seen his family for ten months. The 40-year-old independent architect’s life is split in half by the coronavirus pandemic, leaving him unable to travel from Dali to Hong Kong, where his wife and two daughters are living now.

Travel Between Dali and Hong Kong

The German-educated architect spends most of his time in Dali, a Bai autonomous prefecture in Yunnan, China, to conserve traditional style dwelling, and flies back to Hong Kong every other week to visit his family.

“I always catch a red-eye flight back home so that I can use my time efficiently. When my daughters wake up in the morning, I’m on their sides,” Shu says. He has two daughters. His six-year-old daughter is a primary school pupil, and the youngest girl is one year old.

He drives his daughter to school, plays with the two, and spends quality time with his family. “I’m just an ordinary father when I am back in Hong Kong,” Shu says.

Shu met his wife in Dali in 2010 after he went back from Germany. Seeking more personally satisfying work, his wife went to Hong Kong to be the director of Tanoto Center for Asian Family Business and Entrepreneurship Studies at The Hong Kong University of Science and Technology. “We choose the way we like, and we are happy,” Shu says.

Shu went to Dali to pursue a career he loves. “Dali is a warm harbour full of inspirations,” says Shu, who was born in this Bai community in 1980. 

“My designs are rooted in minority cultures… Dali helps me turn my idea into reality,” Shu says. “Dali has land with potential for development, unlike Hong Kong where there are more restrictions,” he adds.

Shu has not visited his family for ten months since January this year. He devotes his time to a rural reconstruction project in Hong He.

Shu Tan and his colleague are at the construction site in Hong He, Yunnan Province.
(Photo courtesy of Shu Tan)

“The folk dwellings are not only about houses but also thousands of years of Hani culture and wisdom of skillful craftsmen,”

The rural district is an unexploited Hani minority region with rich tourism resources that have not been developed yet. Shu and his team are working on a project to build a collection of modern rammed earth buildings. Shu spends a third of every month in Hong He, communicating with workers, coordinating and tracking the project schedule to align the client’s requirement. The project also helps promote tourism industry in Hong He.

Landslide is frequent in Hong He especially during rainy season in July and August. Most rural reconstruction projects choose to adopt modern ways to rebuild houses. Shu follows traditional building techniques to safeguard Hani cultural inheritance by building sustainable rammed earth houses.

The basic idea of rammed earth is using dirt to build a house. 

“The folk dwellings are not only about houses but also thousands of years of Hani culture and wisdom of skillful craftsmen,” the architect says.

Shu Tan’s design in Hong He, Yunnan Provice. (Photo courtesy of Shu Tan)

A Spiritual Space 

Shu tries to feature the relationship between a house and the surroundings in his design. 

“People need space for meditation,” Shu says. There is a tearoom at Shu’s studio where he can relax and think in this quiet space. This kind of “quiet room” is an essential element in his design, featuring Shu’s philosophy with his architecture.

“Most of my designs are after quality of life instead of making a profit. Some of my friends or my clients ask me to design their homes, and I give them a unique space of their own,” Shu says.

Shu Tan uses film camera to capture images at the construction site in Hong He, Yunnan Province.
(Photo courtesy of Shu Tan)

There are many boutique accommodations at the edge of Erhai Lake. Many have rooms with a sea view for tourists. But Shu plans to build a wall on the side facing the sea to create an enclosed area for meditation. 

“My design is not just for materialistic values, but for providing a personal space where people can stop and think. I want people to build their spiritual space in my design,” Shu says.

“Don’t look at the sea by the sea is a higher state of consciousness. People need to build walls around themselves so that they can look inward,” he says. 

Shu has his “quiet room”, a darkroom for meditation in Dali.

As a real shutterbug, he uses a film camera to record life, especially every step of his daughters’ development. “Thanks to the pandemic, I have time to do things that I have no time to do,” Shu says. He built a darkroom in his yard to develop photographs in May.

“I have hundreds of rolls of films that haven’t been developed. I now spend most of my time in this darkroom. The pictures always bring me back to the days when I was with my family. That makes me feel like they are always with me,” Shu says.

Shu Tan is in his darkroom. (Photo courtesy of Shu Tan)

He reflects and thinks about the meaning of family, the meaning of career, and the meaning of his own life in this 20-meter square room.

“I want to leave something meaningful to my daughters. Something can shape their view of themselves and the world,” Shu says. “I want them to know why they live in this world instead of being assigned to live in a certain way. I hope they can find their own space one day.”

“I want them to know why they live in this world instead of being assigned to live in a certain way. I hope they can find their own space one day”

Edited by Lasley Lui, Regina Chen

Let the Disabled Shine

Kim Jongsoo, CEO of Spring Shine. (Photo courtesy of Spring Shine)

Kim Jongsoo, CEO of Spring Shine, shares stories working with disabled artists in his social enterprise. 

By Eve Lee in Seoul

Kim Jongsoo was offered a job by his friends in 2015. The new opportunity was to be the chief executive officer of a social enterprise, Spring Shine. But the company was confronting severe financial difficulties at that time. “I had a stable life. Though I studied social work at university and worked in a social enterprise to help refugees, still I hesitated to accept the offer. I had never been a CEO,” he says. 

Reviving a Cash-trapped Company

Spring Shine is a company established in 2012 to provide employment opportunities to disabled artists. 

“The first thing I did as a CEO was to reform the company. The company only had 600,000 won (USD$600) in its bank account when I took over,” Kim says. He decided to revive the company so that he could help disabled artists build their career and let them create artworks. Kim says the easiest way was to close the business and restart it again, but he did not want anyone to lose their jobs. 

He bought paints to renovate the office with disabled artists and student volunteers. “The company’s core business was operating pottery classes. So, I renovated a dusty company and turned it into a proper crafting studio and office,” he says. 

Tools in pottery crafting studio.

While renovating the company, Kim continued to apply for social enterprises’ certification by the Korea Social Enterprise Promotion Agency (KoSEA), a government-affiliated institute under the Ministry of Employment and Labour. 

The semi-official agency defines social enterprise as a company or organisation which operates business with social missions. The government subsidises them and recognise them as certified social enterprises. Spring Shine was officially recognised as a social enterprise in 2016. 

Art is for Everyone

With KoSEA’s subsidy, Kim and his team were able to run more pottery classes. More people joined the pottery classes after the renewal of the studio and the social enterprise’s financial difficulties were eventually resolved. 

Kim launched a professional potter cultivation project for the disabled in 2017. It was a success and the project helped the social enterprise enjoy a stable income. The social enterprise also opened a design school in January 2020 to help talented disabled artists to cultivate their potential.  

Kim says they welcome people with different levels of disabilities to participate in the potter cultivation project and join the design school. “Disabled artists can approach us in many ways. Some disabled people are recommended by partner institutions such as LG Social Campus and Seoul Rehabilitation Centre on Intellectual Developmental Disabilities, and some join us after buying our products such as clothes and cups,” Kim says.

Studio of the design school for disabled artisits.

Kim hopes to let more disabled artists shine with their talents. The social enterprise now provides jobs to seven non-disabled employees and five artists with developmental disabilities. Disabled employees are paid a minimum wage of 8,580 won ($7.51USD) per hour or according to their degree of disability and workload. 

Disabled artists create their artworks in the crafting studio and the artworks are put on sale. “We sell artworks to increase our revenue and we have to be competitive in the market,” Kim says. Kim led his team to hold an artwork exhibition “Sogon Sogon” in December 2019, featuring artwork by disabled artists. “I aim to pursue both social value and feasibility of this social enterprise,” Kim says. 

Kim says the company is having a difficult time this year because of the pandemic, and all physical classes are cancelled. “This can be an opportunity to strengthen our online connection with the public,” he adds. Under the COVID-19 new normal, Kim plans to host more online exhibitions. 

Strivings for Stable Employment 

In South Korea, private companies with over 50 workers are required to employ disabled people who should make up 3.1 per cent of a company’s workforce. But Kim believes the employment reality is still harsh for the disabled as there is barely any opportunity for them.  

“If disabled children cannot find a job after graduation, their parents must stay at home to take care of them,” Kim says. “This causes many social problems, because family members of disabled children have to rely on a single income source,” Kim adds. 

Spring shine to Hearten People

After working at the social enterprise for five year, Kim says, “My perception towards the disabled people has changed a lot.” 

Kim says his understanding of disabled was limited before he became a CEO. He viewed disabled people as those who need help. But, now, he values each of them as a talented artist. Kim observes the uniqueness in disabled artists’ artwork. 

“Emotion and love are expressed very honestly in disabled artists’ artwork, and this makes it unique and special,” Kim says. “We do not merely employ them because they are disabled. We employ them because they are talented,” Kim adds.

Kim hopes his company can let every disabled artist’s talents shine like the company’s name. “I believe their artwork will touch people’s hearts like a warm and dazzling spring shine,” Kim says. 

“I believe their artwork will touch people’s hearts like a warm and dazzling spring shine.”

Edited by Regina Chen

Life Afloat

Fishermen in Bohai Bay are struggling with sharp decline in harvests and impact of COVID-19.

By Laurissa Liu in Tianjin

Fishermen hope a four-month moratorium from May to September can help Bohai Bay revitalize its vitality and bring them rich fish harvests.

But desertification of ocean floor and the impact from COVID-19 shows no mercy to the fishermen.

Liu Dongxiang, a fisherman with over 30 years of experience in fishing in Beitang is one of them.

Liu and his family keep casting and collecting fishing nets overnight every day, starting from September.

“The hunting usually starts from mid-night or after dinner,” Liu says. “We then have to sell our harvest during day time. Our work never stops,” he adds.

  • Fishermen in Beitang sell their daily catch at a dock.

Throwing out fishing nets and waiting under starlit night is a fisherman’s usual routine. By the time they get back, diners flock to the dock to buy lively seafood lifted from the ocean.

River crab, swimming crab, mantis shrimp and various shellfish are the most commonly seen and popular seafood among customers in Bohai Bay market.

Liu’s family relies on fishing to make a living. Yet in recent years, harvests have dropped drastically, because of the serious ocean pollution and overfishing. Sharp decline in fish harvest affects all fishermen in Bohai Bay.

“The catch has declined rapidly from 200-300 catties (100-150 kg) a day to only 20 to 30 catties (10-15 kg) in the past two years,” he says.

The current number of fish eggs is only half of before, compared to the data from 1982 to 1983, according to a research released by the Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Affairs in 2018. The seafood resources are less than one tenth of the time.

A fisherman is setting up his stall after a fishing trip.

The Bohai Bay is one of the four traditional fisheries in China. Tens of thousands of fishermen in Tianjin, Hebei, Shandong, and Liaoning make their living at the bay. But the shallow bay is overwhelmed by large-scale commercial fishing.

The government introduced the four-month fishing moratorium in 1995 to protect the marine ecology, considering the situation.

“No matter how fast fish and shrimp grow, boats are always faster. No matter how many fish are released, there are always fishermen in boats waiting to capture them,” Liu says.

September is the best season for harvesting mantis shrimp. Abundant yield of mantis shrimp used to be a major source of fishermen’s income. But harvest has dropped significantly this year.

“The harvest weights 2,000 catties (1000 kg) for a single boat trip in 2000. Yet, the harvest drops to around 500 catties (250 kg) this year,” says fishermen Han Gui, who is also based in Beitang.

“Mantis shrimp is the most popular seafood here, and the growth can never match the demand,” she adds.

Apart from sharp decline in harvest, the pandemic also makes it more difficult for fishermen to make a living.

The fishermen can only rely on government subsidy during the summer moratorium. Some young fishermen used to look for part-time jobs in service and construction industry. But it was not easy to find work during the pandemic.

Seafood lovers scramble to buy fish and shrimps as the harvest is not enough for their demand.

Liu’s son, 24, used to work full-time in a restaurant, lost his job in March and rejoined his family to do fishing. “Fishing doesn’t make as much money as working in a restaurant,” he says. Fishing trips for tourists are also cancelled due to the pandemic.

“We only have local buyers. Tourists from other parts of the country have stopped visiting, especially those from Beijing,” Han says.

It takes only two hours to travel from Beijing to Bohai.

Tourists take selfie at a dock as all boat trips have been cancelled due to the pandemic.

The pandemic has also affected the seafood market business. “The wholesale price of crabs has doubled. The price is RMB ¥60 (US $9) to RMB ¥70 (US $10) per catty (0.5 kg),” says Han Yongqing, a seafood vendor market and a former fisherman. “Demand for seasonal seafood after the pandemic jumps, but the supply can never catch up with it.”

“Catching octopus used to mean bad luck. But now fishermen want anything that can be sold for money,” Han adds.

Edited by Lasley Lui, Regina Chen

Back to the Old Times

In Yunnan, people shop for daily necessities and fresh produce from the wild in street markets.

By Vivian Cao in Yunnan

In urban cities, new shopping malls and fancy supermarkets are replacing old street markets. But in Yunnan, people living in many undeveloped villages still shop for daily needs in old street markets.

Street market is a place where people in Yunnan trade agricultural commodities. History of street markets can be traced back in Shang and Yin dynasties in ancient China.

People go to street markets in nearby villages to sell their agricultural products and buy necessities that are not available in their own villages. 

  • An old lady shops with a basket in Zhebei street market.

Mei, who declines to reveal her identity, bought chilis, corn, and wild fungi in a street market named Zhebei market which takes an hour drive from Kunming city.

She goes to the street market once or twice a month with her friends and families, and she believes it is a good way for them to relax.

“Agricultural products in this street market are really cheap. For example, the corn I bought here only costs RMB ¥2 (US $0.3) for a kilogram. But in Kunming, it costs at least RMB ¥10 (US $1.5) for a kilogram. These products are fresher than those in wet markets in the city,” the 47-year-old woman says.

She pays cash for corn and chilis, and uses QR code payment for the wild fungi in the street market. “I prefer using QR code payment. But many old people do not have smartphones or are not familiar with using it in street markets. So I prepare cash when I come,” Mei says.

“Many old people do not have smartphones or are not familiar with using it in street markets… So I prepare cash when I come.”

Yunnan has a lot of sundry delicacies from mountains during the summer. Many people living in the city go to street markets to buy them. 

Wild fungi and wasp pupas are the most special ones and are considered as important food ingredients in Yunnan cuisine. People may get goose bumps when they see a worm-like wasp pupa. But it is always the best-seller because of its good taste and smell.

Li Longxian, a 37-year-old man from Machu Village who sells wild fungi and wasp pupas in Zhebei street market, gets up at 3 a.m. every morning to look for wild fungi in mountains. He  also cultivates wasp pupa on his own. 

“Wild fungi and wasp pupas are only available before the Mid-Autumn Festival,” Li says. His wasp pupas are sold at RMB ¥180 (US $27) each kilogram, much cheaper than those in wet markets in the city.

Lingzhi, a kind of wild fungus, is often used in traditional Chinese medicine.

Not only mountain delicacies, other agricultural products are also popular. Zhao Yufen, a 62-year-old farmer sells corn and chilis in Zhebei street market.

“Farmers rely on mother nature for food. If the harvest is not good, we will have less for sale. The harvest of chili is not very good as the weather is rainy this year,” she says.

Zhao thinks her life is getting better now. “It was hard to sell things in the past because most were poor and only wanted to sell things to make money. But now people have more money to do shopping,” she says.

An old lady carries a kid to do shopping in Luquan street market.

Wang Hong, a woman from Zhebei village shares Zhao’s feeling. “When I was young, I could not go to street markets very often because I had a big family and everyone wanted to go. It was hard to get a chance.” 

But she can go to street markets every weekend now. “Our living quality is better. If my homegrown agricultural products are more than enough for my family, I will go to street markets to sell them. If there is nothing to sell, I just go for fun and buy something to eat, drink, and play,” the 63-year-old farmer says.

Edited by Lasley Lui

Recycling Used Books

An online second-hand book trading platform revives used books on shelves.

By Laurissa Liu in Tianjin

Holding the belief of “Good books are worth reading twice”, Wei Ying founded a second-hand book store as an applet in WeChat in May 2017. “The value of books is generated by reading and sharing,” Wei says.

The name of the book store, Duozhuayu, comes from a French word, Déjà vu, meaning the memory and feeling of familiarity. “Second-hand items often carry memories of owners that can be shared with our customers,” Wei says.

The store adopts algorithm models to operate their business. The number of users reached over two million in early 2019, and continues to grow at a rate of 2,000 to 3,000 a day. Over 11 million books were scanned on the platform. The store has also released an application for mobile phones and opened two physical stores in Beijing in October 2019, and recently in Shanghai in October 2020.

  • Duozhuayu first offline bookstore located in a cultural industry quarter in Beijing, also as its major office.

(Photo courtesy of Duozhuayu)

Wei had the idea of starting up a business back in 2015. She was inspired by BOOKOFF, the biggest second-hand bookstore in Japan.

The trading platform is simple, well-organized and sufficient.

Book owners who want to sell their books can scan ISBN code on book covers through the applet so that they can find out the estimated price of their books in the second-hand market, which is about 20 to 30 per cent of the market price. Courier then collects these books after an online appointment is made.

Collected books are then gathered at factories in Tianjin and Qingdao for checks and sterilization. All books will be wrapped in plastic before they are put on sale.

“The style of a bookstore is not determined by what it sells but what it does not sell,” says Li Chan, Operation Manager of the book store. The applet front page mostly features books about literature, history, philosophy and social science that are recommended by editors and users.

“We want to be recognized for offering service that features convenience, quality and humanity, not just low pricing,” Li says. The store has an algorithm model that keeps records of books being accepted and rejected. “As our database grows bigger, the data will be more accurate informing us readers’ preference,” Wei says.

“We want to be recognized for offering service that features convenience, quality and humanity, not just low pricing.”

“I want to build a business model that can stand against the test of time,” Wei adds.

A 73-year-old anonymous seller, who lives in Beijing, has been selling used books on the platform for two years. “I’m not good at using the internet but the store has helped me to sell my books,” he says in a letter to the bookstore.

“I began to lose my eyesight, but my children have no interest in reading. So, I need a channel to sell my books to those who love them,” he says. “Consumers always want to possess books, so they keep buying, but only knowledge and memories can last,” he adds.

Looking for a second-hand book online store which can help you pass on your used books? Search Duozhuayu in WeChat applet, download the app of the same name on your phone, or visit their stores in Beijing and Shanghai.

Edited by Lasley Lui, Regina Chen

Sleep with an App

(Photo courtesy of Trey Huang.)

Build a wonderland while you sleep.

By Vivian Cao in Yunnan

What was the last thing you did before going to bed last night? Using your phone to check Facebook and Instagram posts? Are you interested in building a town on your phone when you are sleeping?

Sleep Town, a time management app, can help you build good sleeping habits and a virtual town at the same time.

In this app, you can set two alarms to remind you when to sleep and wake up. If you go to bed and get up according to the time you set, you will be rewarded a virtual house and bonus which can allow you to unlock different houses in a virtual shop. If you fail, your house will be destroyed in the game.

Users can invite friends to join them and build world-famous architectural masterpieces together, for example, the Mont Saint Michel, the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall, and so on.

Trey Huang, a 19-year-old student who has been using the app for eight months, says: “Friends can watch out for each other when building houses. You can build your house and your friend’s one at the same time.”

Huang thinks it is not easy to change his biological clock at first. “When the pandemic first started, my routines were disrupted. I slept in the morning and played what at night. My friend invited me to build world-famous architectural masterpieces with him by using Sleep Town. At first, I lost the game all the time. My town was full of ruins,” Huang says.

“My big town” in the app is where users can see all their well-built architectures and ruins.

 Photo courtesy of Sleep Town.

“I can see many beautiful houses in ‘My big town.’ It motivates me to build more houses. Now my sleeping habit is back to normal after three months. I go to bed before 12:30 a.m. and get up at 8 a.m.,” Huang says.

“Gamify Your Life” is a slogan of Sleep Town’s developer, Seekrtech, a digital company from Taiwan. Their mission is to design easy games to help people develop healthy lifestyles.

Sleep Town ranks second as the most downloaded app of all paid games in the category of health and fitness in 2020 in China, according to Apple App Store data.

Do you want to have a better sleeping routine and enjoy work-life balance? Please join Sleep Town tonight. It is available on the Apple App Store and Google Play Store.

Edited by Lasley Lui

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Varsity CUHK
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