Chengdu Turns Into China’s New Influencer Hub as Half the Nation’s Internet Celebrities Converge for Kuaishou Conference.
The internet has been buzzing with the phrase “全国一半的网红都到成都了” — “Half of the country’s internet celebrities are in Chengdu.” The slogan went viral in early June as the 2025 Kuaishou Guanghe Conference unfolded in the Sichuan capital, drawing a constellation of short‑video stars to the city’s streets, malls and rain‑slicked alleys.

30 August 2025
Among the headline‑making personalities were Na Yina (那艺娜), Zhong Meimei (钟美美), Da Bing (大冰), Tian Yiming (田一名), An Wan (安万) and Tangshan Paopaolong (唐山泡泡龙). Their presence was not limited to a backstage press lounge; the conference’s open‑air stages spilled onto Chengdu’s iconic Jiuyan Bridge and the bustling pedestrian artery of Chun Xi Road. In a moment that quickly went viral, Na Yina and Tian Yiming took to a rain‑spattered corner of the city and performed a duet, their voices rising above the drizzle. A video posted by the local Weibo account Chengdu Tieji Video captured the scene with the caption “当雨水浇不灭街头的歌声” — “When the rain can’t extinguish the street song.” The clip was retweeted thousands of times, prompting a wave of comments that mixed admiration, humor and a touch of playful cynicism.
Weibo users summed up Chengdu’s magnetic pull in a handful of recurring themes. Many highlighted the city’s reputation as a culinary haven — “美食之都” (the “food capital”) — and praised its capacity to generate hype, pointing to Jiuyan Bridge and Chun Xi Road as ready‑made backdrops for viral street photography and flash mobs. Others focused on the city’s ability to handle massive “traffic” (流量), a shorthand for online attention, noting that Chengdu “既接得住流量,又玩得转真实” — “it can handle the flow and still feel authentic.” A popular meme read “永远能让你边吐槽‘好卷’,边忍不住举起手机加入狂欢,” translating loosely to “It always makes you complain ‘it’s so competitive,’ yet you can’t help grabbing your phone and joining the carnival.” The humor underscored a common sentiment: Chengdu’s popularity can feel overwhelming, but it remains irresistibly engaging.

The weather, which turned wet during the conference, became part of the narrative rather than a hindrance. Comments such as “雨天拦不住热情” (“Rain can’t stop the enthusiasm”) reinforced the picture of a city whose spirit persists regardless of drizzle, a point that resonated with both locals and the visiting influencers.
Beyond the immediacy of the conference, the surge of internet celebrities in Chengdu signals a broader shift in how Chinese cities are branding themselves. Scholars of urban economics note the rise of “influencer cities,” where municipal authorities deliberately cultivate a digital‑friendly image to attract short‑video creators, their followers and the attendant spending on hospitality, retail and tourism. Chengdu’s strategic positioning as a “leisure capital” and a “city that people don’t want to leave” is now being reinforced by data: the Kuaishou event alone drew over a hundred thousand on‑site visitors and streamed to millions more across China’s short‑video platforms.
The economic implications are multi‑layered. Short‑video platforms such as Kuaishou (快手), the organizer of the Guanghe Conference, have become de‑facto event promoters, turning cities into stages for branded content. For local businesses, the influx of influencers translates into immediate sales spikes for restaurants, fashion boutiques and boutique hotels that appear in livestreams. However, experts caution that converting transient “traffic” (流量) into lasting “wealth” (财富) is not automatic. Cities that rely solely on the flash of viral moments risk a “people boom” that does not translate into sustained economic growth, especially if the underlying industrial base remains thin.
Culturally, the phenomenon raises questions about authenticity. Chengdu’s historic neighborhoods and villages — for instance, the now‑well‑known Mingyue Village (明月村), which has evolved from a poverty‑stricken hamlet into a national model community and an artistic enclave since 2013 — are being re‑imagined through the lenses of Instagram‑style aesthetics and short‑video edits. While many users celebrate the city’s “humanistic foundation amidst the traffic carnival” (在流量狂欢中坚守人文底色), there is an undercurrent of concern that relentless photo‑ops could flatten the city’s rich cultural texture into a series of generic backdrops.
The social ripple extends to local residents as well. The sudden surge of tourists and creators can strain infrastructure, push up housing costs and shift the rhythm of daily life. At the same time, the visibility granted to influencers like Jiarong Jie 阿Juan, a Tibetan creator with millions of followers who used her platform to aid Rongsong Village, illustrates how digital fame can be leveraged for community benefit, blurring the line between entertainment and social entrepreneurship.
Politically, the episode reflects the Chinese government’s subtle use of soft power via urban branding. By nurturing hubs such as Chengdu, policymakers can showcase a modern, vibrant China that blends tradition with digital innovation, a narrative that bolsters national pride and attracts foreign curiosity. It also forces municipal regulators to grapple with new governance challenges: managing crowd control, ensuring that the digital economy’s rapid expansion does not outpace social safeguards, and navigating the evolving regulatory landscape that governs platforms like Kuaishou.
The 2025 Kuaishou Guanghe Conference, therefore, is more than a gathering of internet celebrities; it is a microcosm of the evolving digital economy and its impact on urban life. The phrase “Half of the country’s internet celebrities are in Chengdu” captures both a moment of celebratory hype and a deeper transformation in how cities compete for attention in the age of short‑video. Whether Chengdu’s rise as an “influencer city” proves sustainable will depend on its ability to balance the fleeting allure of viral fame with the enduring needs of its residents, cultural heritage and long‑term economic strategy. For now, the city’s rain‑soaked streets continue to echo with song, flash‑bulb clicks and the relentless hum of smartphones — a soundtrack that, at least for a season, defines Chengdu’s place on China’s digital map.