During her final years of high school, Chinese teenager Xu Yunting found an unusual way to make some pocket money: transforming herself into male video game characters and taking their female devotees on dates.
The trend, called “cos commissioning,” has gained traction in China recently, with social media posts garnering millions of views as an increasing number of young women use their purchasing power to engineer a meeting with their dream man in real life.
One early morning in Shanghai last month, Xu carefully inserted contacts to enlarge her irises and adjusted a tangerine wig to transform into “Jesse,” a character from the romance quest mobile game “Light and Night.” A tall and sensitive musician, he is one of five characters that woo players throughout the game — and for client Feng Xinyu, a vivacious 19-year-old, the ideal partner.
Photo: AFP
“I don’t have a boyfriend because I’m not interested in 3D men,” Feng said, using a term for “real-life” men. “I like anime characters a little bit more, they’re more appealing to me.”
“Light and Night,” made by tech giant Tencent and aimed squarely at young women, promises a “brand-new interactive experience of highly immersive love.”
Players like Feng, who form strong emotional connections with characters in such games, are known as “dream girls” — and cos commissioning takes the immersion to the next level by dragging those 2D beaus off the screen and into the real world. Feng has commissioned Xu twice before, for a fee of around US$70. Last month, she spent US$2,800 on a multi-day trip with another Jesse cosplayer to a different province.
Photo: AFP
But she decided she preferred Xu’s portrayal and hired her for a third date. “We really click,” Feng said. “She’s just like the character from the game, it feels like we were meant to be together.”
RECONSTRUCTING GENDER RULES
Feng was waiting for Xu at a metro station, and grinned in unabashed delight when she spotted her. The two appeared relaxed, holding hands and chatting happily as they headed to their first activity.
Photo: AFP
Their date — all planned and paid for entirely by Feng —lasted all day, beginning with tea and ending with a hotpot meal and a romantic stroll. At both a doll-painting workshop and cake-decorating class they attended, they were one of many cos commission pairs. Staff at the latter business said they had noticed more and more couples coming in over the past year — sometimes dozens on busy days.
Part of the appeal, experts studying the phenomenon say, is that it gives young women a way to perform an idealized heteronormative relationship. Conservative social attitudes towards women remain widespread in China, often reinforced by state media and popular culture.
Aside from assuaging safety concerns, hiring a female cosplayer ensures a level of equality and understanding not necessarily guaranteed in a real-life relationship.
Photo: AFP
“I don’t think it’s important what gender the person being commissioned is,” Fudan University’s Tian Qian said. “What is important is that (the cosplayer) is a vessel, because the client needs a vehicle for their emotions.” Another academic, Zhou Zixing, wrote that cos commissioning allows women “to gain a voice that is fully respected by the opposite sex ... responding to, breaking, and reconstructing the gender rules of the real world.”
HEALING EFFECT
At the cake-decorating class, Feng leaned over the table, fondly watching Xu pipe generous amounts of icing onto a sponge cake. Afterwards, Xu gently helped Feng remove her apron, modelling Jesse’s gentlemanly behavior.
“The guys in the games are all quality guys,” Xu said. “I think (clients) will be able to improve their requirements in real life in terms of what they want from a man, so that they don’t settle for low-quality guys.”
Her mother Fang Xiuqing admitted her initial reaction when she learned what Xu was doing was: “How could this happen to my daughter?” But she has since come around to the idea. “I don’t think it’s a profession, it’s a hobby,” said Fang. “She gets enjoyment from it, and she also brings joy to others.”
Tian said cos commissions can act as “emotional sustenance.” “Although this is a paid interaction, it still gives a sense of being seen, which has a certain healing effect to it.”
When nature calls, Masana Izawa has followed the same routine for more than 50 years: heading out to the woods in Japan, dropping his pants and doing as bears do. “We survive by eating other living things. But you can give faeces back to nature so that organisms in the soil can decompose them,” the 74-year-old said. “This means you are giving life back. What could be a more sublime act?” “Fundo-shi” (“poop-soil master”) Izawa is something of a celebrity in Japan, publishing books, delivering lectures and appearing in a documentary. People flock to his “Poopland” and centuries-old wooden “Fundo-an” (“poop-soil house”) in
Jan 13 to Jan 19 Yang Jen-huang (楊仁煌) recalls being slapped by his father when he asked about their Sakizaya heritage, telling him to never mention it otherwise they’ll be killed. “Only then did I start learning about the Karewan Incident,” he tells Mayaw Kilang in “The social culture and ethnic identification of the Sakizaya” (撒奇萊雅族的社會文化與民族認定). “Many of our elders are reluctant to call themselves Sakizaya, and are accustomed to living in Amis (Pangcah) society. Therefore, it’s up to the younger generation to push for official recognition, because there’s still a taboo with the older people.” Although the Sakizaya became Taiwan’s 13th
For anyone on board the train looking out the window, it must have been a strange sight. The same foreigner stood outside waving at them four different times within ten minutes, three times on the left and once on the right, his face getting redder and sweatier each time. At this unique location, it’s actually possible to beat the train up the mountain on foot, though only with extreme effort. For the average hiker, the Dulishan Trail is still a great place to get some exercise and see the train — at least once — as it makes its way
Earlier this month, a Hong Kong ship, Shunxin-39, was identified as the ship that had cut telecom cables on the seabed north of Keelung. The ship, owned out of Hong Kong and variously described as registered in Cameroon (as Shunxin-39) and Tanzania (as Xinshun-39), was originally People’s Republic of China (PRC)-flagged, but changed registries in 2024, according to Maritime Executive magazine. The Financial Times published tracking data for the ship showing it crossing a number of undersea cables off northern Taiwan over the course of several days. The intent was clear. Shunxin-39, which according to the Taiwan Coast Guard was crewed
RSS