“Too Much Qi”: A Light‑hearted Joke on ‘Sisters Who Make Waves’ Sparks Celebrity Smear Campaign, Wellness Debate and Online Meme Frenzy in China

The exchange took place on the popular reality series “Sisters Who Make Waves 2025” (乘风2025), a competition that pits established female entertainers against each other in a blend of performance challenges, backstage banter and candid confessionals. In an episode aired on June 8, Li Sheng – a veteran actress best known for “New My Fair Princess” – teased fellow contestant Zhu Xudan, asking whether she was feeling a bit “over‑energised” after the young star’s enthusiastic description of a homemade herbal tea. Zhu, who had been brewing an “eight‑treasure porridge”‑style health drink packed with multiple qi‑tonifying ingredients, replied with a good‑natured smile while Li quipped that she had “too much qi”. The humor was amplified when Wang Luodan, another contestant, mimicked Zhu’s talkative delivery and echoed Li’s teasing, prompting laughs from the studio audience and online viewers alike.

What began as a playful jab quickly turned into a meme. Users on Weibo began quoting the line with the hashtag #李晟说祝绪丹气太多了, sharing screenshots of the clip and adding their own captions about “vibrant energy” and “over‑dosage of health tea”. Many leaned into the comedy, describing Zhu’s concoction as a “health tsunami” and applauding the chemistry among the participants. A Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) doctor who appeared on the show, Shen Weidong, added a dash of earnest advice, reminding everyone that “moderation is key, don’t mix too many things”. His comment, delivered in earnest seriousness amid the laughter, gave the joke a surprising dose of authenticity and sparked further discussion about the proper use of herbal ingredients.

Beyond the chuckles, however, a sizable portion of the conversation revealed deeper undercurrents. Several commenters expressed genuine concern that the hashtag was part of a “black hot search” (黑热搜) – a term used to describe coordinated negative campaigns that thrust a celebrity into the spotlight for the wrong reasons. Phrases like “Zhu Xudan has been bought black” and “who did she offend to get this targeted attack?” appeared alongside the humor, indicating that many fans suspect a deliberate attempt to tarnish Zhu’s reputation. The suspicion is not without precedent; earlier this year Zhu was linked to two other trending topics – #祝绪丹手滑事件后持续掉粉 (Zhu Xudan continues to lose followers after the ‘hand slip’ incident) and #祝绪丹直播哽咽 (Zhu Xudan chokes up during a live broadcast) – both of which framed her as a victim of online vilification.

Fans rallied to defend her, calling her a “micro‑drunk energetic beauty” and reminding observers of her friendships with high‑profile stars such as Dilraba Dilmurat, Yang Mi and Esther Yu. The protective tone suggests that Zhu’s supporters see the “too much qi” joke not merely as harmless banter but as a potential entry point for a broader narrative that casts her in a negative light. For many, the line has become a shorthand for the way a seemingly innocent moment can be weaponised in the relentless churn of China’s internet celebrity culture.

The case illustrates several larger trends in the entertainment industry. First, it highlights the fragile balance celebrities must maintain between authenticity and image management. Zhu’s earnestness about health – an obsession with “补气” (qi‑tonifying) herbs and teas – is relatable to a generation of young women who feel pressure to optimise their well‑being. By showcasing her genuine, if exaggerated, dedication to wellness, Zhu appears more human and approachable, a trait that can deepen fan loyalty. Simultaneously, Li Sheng’s teasing establishes a sense of camaraderie among the contestants, suggesting that friendships on‑screen may translate into off‑screen support networks.

Second, the episode underscores the volatility of China’s “hot search” ecosystem. The same platform that can catapult a meme to virality can also be weaponised to flood search rankings with negative narratives. The mention of “buying black” – a colloquial way of saying that a star’s name has been deliberately pushed onto a negative trend list – points to a well‑known, albeit opaque, practice where rival agencies or internet “water armies” seed coordinated criticism. In Zhu’s case, the simple joke about “too much qi” appears to have acted as a Trojan horse for such activity, prompting fans to mobilise defensive hashtags and rally around the star.

Third, the incident reveals how celebrity endorsements, even inadvertent ones, can influence consumer behaviour regarding health products. While Zhu’s tea‑making escapade was played for laughs, it also signals the powerful role that public figures have in shaping perceptions of traditional Chinese medicine. The TCM doctor’s cautionary remark about moderation served as a subtle reminder that not all health trends are scientifically vetted, a point that could be lost amid the meme‑driven chatter.

The broader societal backdrop adds another layer of meaning. In a high‑pressure environment where young women often equate “元气” (vitality, youthfulness) with beauty and success, the pursuit of “补气” can become an almost compulsive ritual. Zhu’s depiction as a “微醺元气美女” (slightly tipsy energetic beauty) taps into a cultural ideal that glorifies perpetual energy and a radiant glow. Critics argue that such standards fuel an endless market for wellness products, many of which lack rigorous testing. The Weibo conversation, with its mix of humor, concern, and defense, reflects the tension between aspirational health practices and the commercial forces that perpetuate them.

Finally, the episode spotlights the impact of reality TV as a narrative engine. “Sisters Who Make Waves” provides a stage where contestants’ personalities are amplified, moments are edited for maximum emotional resonance, and off‑screen storylines can be spun out into the digital sphere within hours. The “too much qi” clip proved to be a perfect seed for a meme, illustrating how variety shows can act as incubators for internet culture, driving both fan engagement and, occasionally, controversy.

In sum, what started as a light‑hearted exchange between Li Sheng and Zhu Xudan has spiralled into a multifaceted phenomenon that touches on celebrity image management, internet manipulation, wellness trends and gendered expectations in contemporary China. While many viewers continue to share the clip for its comic value, a growing chorus of netizens is using the same hashtag to rally against what they perceive as a coordinated smear campaign. Whether the debate settles on the merits of a tea recipe or the ethics of online shaming, the episode underscores how a single line – “you have too much qi” – can become a mirror reflecting the complexities of fame, health and digital discourse in the 21st‑century Chinese entertainment landscape.