The Crazy World of Livestreaming in China

If you've lived in China for awhile, chances are you'll have noticed how popular livestreaming – aka 直播 zhíbō – has become in the country. An industry that barely existed a few years ago has since boomed, generating more than RMB 190 billion in revenue in 2020 alone.

Seeing as WeChat's zhibo feature and the livestreaming app Kuaishou saw more than 900 million and 700 million viewers in 2021 respectively, I wanted to understand why people were flocking to such a platform, so I took a deep dive and got to watching.

Accessing a zhibo platform is easy – all you have to do is search the "nearby" function on WeChat to get there. You can also find it on other platforms, like the aforementioned Kuaishou, as well as Taobao to Tantan, amongst plenty more.

At first glance, I noticed that most streamers tend to wear heavy make-up paired with filters that exaggerate their features. Imagine a vampire that's been made to look cute with big eyes and a bit of blush, and this is what most livestreamers tend to embody -- although I'm willing to bet a lot of them don't look like this in real life.

If you want to enter the streaming room, simply click on one of the profiles, and get to watching. But before I entered, one question weighed heavily on my mind: What do these streamers do?

I noticed performers categorize themselves and that they have vastly different personalities. There are the witty and comedic ones, as well as those who can carry a tune. There are also chatty individuals who play the therapist and dole out advice for anyone going through a nasty breakup. And of course, there are the sexy and charming ones who try to woo lonely guys into spending money – aka giving gifts.

And speaking of gifts, it's a big part of livestreaming.

The second I entered the room of a Beijing-based streamer, my screen was bombarded with a deluge of virtual gifts such as hearts, flashy stickers, and even beer bottles – worth anything from a mere RMB 1 all the way up to a whopping RMB 1,200.

Streamers largely make their money like this: When viewers discover a streamer they find attractive or otherwise entertaining they can send a gift, or make a "tip," by first purchasing tokens – known as "WeBeans" on WeChat. These virtual gifts are then transferred into actual money and the platform generally takes a 50 percent cut.

But why would viewers spend ungodly amounts of money on people who are doing next-to-nothing? To make a long story short, it plays into the human need for dopamine, with a touch of companionship for good measure.

For instance, in one livestreaming room featuring a host who was wiggling her body provocatively, one user commented: “How can I get to know you better?” The streamer quickly capitalized on this lonely viewer, responding: "If you really want to know me more, you have to send me gifts." And just like that, ten heart emojis flew across the screen.

Many people are simply fighting for a host's attention. Every time they tip, the streamer promptly expresses thanks. This gives people a sense of achievement, or that they're getting some semblance of attention they might lack in real life.

At other times, viewers have become so addicted to tipping that they'll do everything they can to buy more gifts for their favorite livestreamers, sometimes with disasterous consequences.

One example of tipping going horribly wrong happened right here in Beijing, when a manager surnamed Yu was caught embezzling RMB 7.8 million from his employer – a state-owned enterprise no less – to get the attention of his favorite livestream host. When asked why he stole the money just to send virtual gifts to a stranger, Yu remarked "It almost made me feel like I was high on drugs, and I felt a sense of euphoria every time I'd send a tip."

Another reason people tip might have to do with their intention of meeting their favorite hosts offline or even starting a potential relationship with them. Big spenders are more likely to be noticed by hosts and if someone spends enough money, there is a chance that one day the host might be willing to meet this person in reality.

More often than not this ends in failure, however, there have been a few success stories, such as a Beijing-based livestreamer/influencer who goes by Vivian.

Among her many generous tippers, there was one who sent her virtual gifts in excess of RMB 90 million. It didn't take long for Vivian to notice, and she eventually agreed to meet him. She became smitten with the big spender, and they started dating and eventually got married.

All of which is to say, we guess money can buy you love. 

Tipping can also influence the behavior of other viewers. When they see others tipping, they'll be tempted to do the same. It all sounds like a whole lot of unnecessary spending to us – save for the aforementioned fairytale story – but it's doubtlessly raking in the dough for livestreamers and their platforms.

Read: The Beijing Park Where Parents Become Matchmakers for Their Kids 

Images: Irene Li