Elephant Diet Vol.1
- Kat
- Aug 13
- 10 min read
Updated: Aug 15
（*While the Elephant Room team carefully selects content from credible news outlets and media, we cannot independently verify every piece of information it contains. If you believe any material infringes on copyrights or contains factual errors, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with us so that it can be reviewed and, if necessary, removed🙏）
Biyi’s Dish—
Sanlian Lifeweek (三联生活周刊), "The Journey of Director Fang" (房主任的来时路)
Note: Sanlian Lifeweek is a liberal-leaning, state-owned Chinese weekly magazine, aiming to be “a chronicler of the changing times.”
Meet Direct Fang(房主任), the most viral woman on the Chinese Internet so far this year.
Before skyrocketing to fame in July due to a stand-up comedy performance (Youtube) on iQiyi’s variety show King of Comedy: Stand-Up Season, "Director Fang" (a stage name) from Linyi, Shandong—a province widely regarded as one of China’s most entrenched strongholds of traditional cultural values—was the most ordinary of rural Chinese women. Born in 1975 with only a middle school education, she once worked as a migrant laborer, married and had two daughters, then scraped by as a street sweeper. For years, she endured domestic violence and relentless physical and psychological abuse. In 2023, by sheer chance, she signed a contract as a stand-up comedian. By 2024, she divorced her long-time abuser, leaving with nothing but the clothes on her back.
In the viral set that captivated the nation, she recounted her arranged marriage with biting absurdity: Her mother chose a husband for her—a man 155 cm (5′ 1″) tall and weighing 95 jin, 47.5 kg, (dubbed by Fang as a "corgi")—because "he couldn’t overpower you." Yet the marriage descended into violence (her husband even enlisted his father to join the beatings). When she sought divorce, her parents vehemently objected. Her mother insisted, "It’s not like he’s cheating or gambling away the family fortune—why can’t you just endure it?" Her father weaponized "family reputation": "A man hitting his wife isn’t shameful, but a divorced woman is!"
When this 50-year-old rural woman took the stage on one of China’s hottest comedy shows, her self-deprecating yet blood-soaked jokes sent shockwaves across the internet—particularly among urban youth. Through Fang’s performance, laughter became a mirror forcing audiences to confront an uncomfortable truth: The oppression of women and human dignity under China’s patriarchal traditions remains unshaken, even amid the breakneck economic progress of cities. And the suffering endured by ordinary rural women like her is so visceral, so specific—yet so rarely given a voice.
Quotes from Sanlian Lifeweek’s interview:
-“Twenty years ago, when my eldest daughter was born, I first considered divorce.
I was pregnant before marriage, and at the time, I hadn’t reached the legal age for it—so I couldn’t get a birth permit. Back then, the policy was clear: either pay a hefty fine or abort the child. Their family wanted me to give birth but refused to pay the penalty. They took me to the hospital three times to try to force an abortion, even when I was already eight months pregnant. Later, I learned the truth: their plan was to keep the baby if it was a boy, but give it away if it was a girl.
It was a girl.
When they tried to take her, I didn’t back down. I snarled at them: "I went to the hospital three times and never resisted. But now that she’s born, if anyone dares lay a finger on her, I’ll fight them to the death." That’s how I saved my child.”
-“My ex-husband sometimes curses my boss, blaming her for "supporting my divorce" and giving me the courage to leave. But he’s got it backward—he was the one who drove me away first. Only after that did I gamble everything on stand-up comedy.
Even without comedy, I’d already been weighing my options. To this day, I still have WeChat groups for domestic workers (环卫工？家政？) looking for gigs. I’d thought about it: If I quit my job as a street sweeper in the village, what else could I do? Not in Beijing or Shanghai—just in Linyi, picking up odd jobs as a part-time cleaner. Something that would let me scrape by while still being there for my kids. That was the escape route I’d mapped out in my head.
But then stand-up comedy happened. It became my way out. All I needed was the faintest glimmer of light ahead—and that was enough to finally walk away.”
Kat’s Dish—
An encrypted Telegram group called “MaskPark Treehole Forum” amassed over 100,000 users, sharing an enormous volume of voyeuristic images and footage. Victims include strangers, relatives, partners, and even minors. Due to the strict domestic censorship (“inside the Great Firewall”) and the difficulty of obtaining evidence on international platforms, there’s a significant gap in in-depth investigative reporting by the media. Even so, there are still several noteworthy articles worth reading.
1. Phoenix Weekly (凤凰周刊): “China’s Version of the Nth Room” Is Just the Tip of the Iceberg (“中国版N号房”，只是冰山一角)
Note: Phoenix Weekly, sponsored by a leading global Chinese language TV network — Phoenix TV— in Hong Kong, is a magazine that enjoys widespread popularity in both Hong Kong and mainland China.
Voyeurism tactics are becoming increasingly covert. Common hotspots include crowded public areas such as public transportation (subways, buses, high-speed trains), shopping malls, and sports stadiums. Perpetrators use professional equipment, modify shoes to hide miniature cameras, or disguise devices as everyday items like canes, shopping bags, watches, and lighters. These devices are easily purchased online, with mini cameras priced between 100–500 RMB selling over 6,500 units per month.
Among the three reports I selected, this one contains the fewest interviews and data points. I chose it because Phoenix News, as one of the most widely read digital media outlets in China, skillfully uses numerous photos and examples of similar voyeurism cases to grab readers’ attention. Although it barely delves into Maskpark itself, this is a survival tactic often employed by domestic media: downplay the sensitive core, sidestep censorship, and still capture public attention as quickly as possible — while keeping the headline tied to Maskpark.
2. South Reviews (南风窗): “An average of 5 yuan each”: Women Fell into the Dark Web of Secret Filming (“平均5元一个”，万名女性堕入偷拍暗网)
Note: South Reviews, a biweekly politics and economics magazine based in Guangzhou, is known for its liberal-leaning tone while operating within the confines of state-run media.
Compared to the previous article, South Reviews’ piece is clearly more comprehensive and in-depth, covering four different perspectives: victims, perpetrators/business owners, anti-voyeurism activists, and experts.
One victim had photos of her nudes from pregnancy shared by her ex-husband to “a group of 50 people” — purely to “show off.” She suffered severe psychological trauma, psychosomatic symptoms, and episodes of full-body cold stiffness.
The article further examines the motives for sharing such content, highlighting how women’s bodies are treated as normalized “social capital” for bragging. Similar to the previous report, it also details the dark web voyeurism industry chain. On the equipment side, 1080p spy devices disguised as lighters can be bought for as little as 400 RMB. Everyday items that can be modified include shoes, watches, power banks, alarm clocks, desk lamps, and even bottles of shower gel. Sellers boast: “If you can think of it, we can modify it.”
On the operations side, roles are clearly divided — equipment suppliers → installers → distributors → operators. Installing a single hidden camera costs 6,000 RMB. Some hotels offer a “monthly subscription” at 599 RMB to access footage from 24 different cameras, with profits split 50/50. Target locations tend to be guesthouses, budget hotels, and themed “love hotels,” while high-risk public areas include KTV venues, park and mall restrooms.
One major focus of the article is the pricing system within the industry chain: footage showing both the face and private parts fetches higher prices; a victim’s age, appearance, and social identity tags (e.g., college student, model, white-collar office woman) also affect their price. According to an anti-voyeurism activist, the average “market value” of a woman in this industry is just 5 RMB.
The article also raises the problem of enforcement challenges: Telegram’s encryption and self-destructing messages create major technical barriers; with servers hosted overseas, cross-border law enforcement is extremely complex. And, as one of the largest domestic media outlets, South Reviews cannot openly pressure the police to take action.
3. Free Nora: “On the Maskpark Incident — Stop Saying Telegram Is Untraceable; The Real Question Is Whether There’s Will to Investigate”
Note: Free Nora is an independent media initiative launched following China’s “chained woman incident” in 2022 — a case of human trafficking, false imprisonment and sexual assault that rocked the nation at that time. The initiative is dedicated to advocating against human trafficking and promoting the rights of people with mental disabilities in China.
This piece is more of a call to action than a news report, urging the public to pay attention to voyeurism crimes and press the authorities to investigate. Using South Korea’s successful law enforcement collaborations as an example, the author presents four concrete demands to Chinese authorities:
Establish a task force led by the Ministry of Public Security and a 24-hour hotline.
Have the Cyberspace Administration of China form official cooperation with Telegram and define the platform’s responsibility for removing illegal content.
Apply existing Telegram monitoring tools specifically to investigate online sex crimes.
Legislate penalties for possessing, purchasing, storing, or viewing illegally recorded sexual content.
This is precisely the type of “upward accountability” voice missing in the domestic landscape. (Optimistically, a Chinese self-media running on WeChat has already partnered to repost the advocacy.)
Joyce’s Dish—
BBC Eye Documentaries: Chasing down “Chikan” (gropers) — Who’s Selling Sexually Exploitative Videos from China and Japan
As Chinese women keeps calling for attention and action following the disturbing exposure of Chinese Telegram voyeur rooms like “Mask Park Treehole Forum” — despite facing censorship across Chinese social media platforms — I’m reminded of this investigative documentary published two years ago. It explored how Chinese and Japanese women are sexually assaulted during their daily commutes and how their lives have been turned into fodder for men’s pornography, fueling a disturbing and exploitative industry.
Led by Feng Zhaoyin, a Chinese female reporter, and the BBC investigation crew, the documentary, filmed in Japan, highlighs the intense and courageous undercover reporting on the Chinese men behind a massive covert filming and sexual exploitation business website. And Feng, the female reporter, bravely confronted their big boss, “Uncle Qi” or “Maomi” —Tang Zhuoran, a Chinese man originally from Guangzhou. The well-curated documentary also features voices from victims, anti-“Chikan” (groping) campaigners, the male owner and a female employee of a “Chikan”-themed sex club, as well as a former covert filmer.
With the BBC’s exposure of Tang, the man who profited from selling videos that assaulted women, Beijing News, a reputable state-run Chinese newspaper, followed up with a report of Guangzhou’s community police visiting to a home of a man with the same name, who found only an empty room and no record of Tang ever returning to mainland China.
The Guangzhou Municipal Publicity Department told Beijing News in 2023 that they are aware of the situation and will provide updates on their investigation into Tang in a timely manner.
Two years on, we still haven’t heard any updates about Tang, but his alias “Uncle Qi” remains active in some Chinese Telegram voyeur rooms today.
Lily’s Dish—
Phoenix Weekly (凤凰Weekly): The Post-90s Entrepreneurs Riding China’s Short Drama Wave (「爆火」短剧，让多少90后身价过亿？)
Recently, China’s TV drama industry has faced a subtle tremor: leading platform iQIYI found itself embroiled in a data controversy after two of its S+ productions, Feud (《临江仙》) and Coroner’s Diary (《朝雪录》), claimed record-breaking viewership, only to face widespread skepticism over inflated metrics. Some industry analysts note that, if these disputed figures are excluded, then only one iQIYI series, Drifting Away (《漂白》), were able to achieve genuine success in the first half of the year, which would cast a shadow over its upcoming advertising negotiations. However, if the allegations of data manipulation prove true, the credibility of China’s TV drama industry could suffer a severe blow.
Numbers tell a sobering story: revenue for China’s film industry this summer slumped to just two-thirds of 2024’s, while highly anticipated series like Created in China (《淬火年代》), supported by CCTV and big name production company Daylight Entertainment, underperformed. In stark contrast, the short drama market is exploding. Imaging in Mind (《念念有词》) obtained 1 billion views in five days after its July debut, soaring to 2 billion within two weeks—proof of a disruptive “small cost, mega returns” business model.
Once dismissed as the “bottom rung of the entertainment ladder”, short dramas overtook China’s film industry in 2023 with a ￥37 billion market (around $518 million). The sector’s nonchalant wealth creation, where CEOs reference “small eight-figure profits” casually, and lead actors earn ￥20,000-30,000 per day (around $2,800-4,200), has become legend. The overseas breakout The Divorced Billionaire Heiress epitomizes this gold rush: a $200,000 budget yielded $25 million, a 125x ROI for traditional TV productions. Even famous Chinese actresses like Liu Xiaoqing and Carmen Lee, alongside veteran directors such as Wong Jing, have started working in short dramas.
Here’s how short drama rewrites the rules:
Production: ￥500,000 average budget (around $70,000), with 80% of scenes shot in only one location
Speed: 5,0000 hours’ annual release series backed by a “spread-thin investment” strategy
While Legend of Zang Hai (《藏海传》) still settles for 2x returns and chases for IP longevity, short dramas prioritize 10x ROI. While Riverside Code at Qingming Festival (《清明上河图密码》) struggles to recoup its ￥3 billion set-construction costs (around $420 million), directors like Zhang Hanwen, shifted from 2 long-form series per year, to 20 short dramas in 4 months. Yet the brutal discipline quickly humbles newcomers: main actors/actresses surviving on 3 hours of sleep, 55-pound weight loss in 2 months, and editing team’s all night long working, reveal an efficiency-or-die ethos.
Business model innovation driven by platforms is also worth noting:
Revenue Shift: From “pay-per-episode” to “free memberships + ad selling”
Budget Surge: for example, iQIYI’s Original Sin (《原罪》) and WeTV’s Fortune Writer (《执笔》) now command eight-figure investments
Content DNA: Relentless 5-second pacing between climaxes
Hope you enjoyed this month’s Elephant Diet. See you in our next story!
The Elephant Room team🐒
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