That Girl in China

Can you hear the bells?
Across cultures, borders, and beliefs,
moments like this remind us how much we share.
Different backgrounds, different stories —
yet the same joy, the same warmth, the same human connection.
Merry Christmas to friends from every culture. 🤍🎄

1 month ago | [YT] | 14

That Girl in China

On this warm and festive holiday, I want to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to every friend who has supported and followed my channel. Your encouragement and companionship allow me to continue sharing and exploring the depth and beauty of Chinese culture. 🗺

I hope that, in the days ahead, my channel can continue to journey alongside those truly interested in understanding Chinese culture. Together, let’s uncover the true essence of China’s thousands of years of history, and explore more— not just about China, but also about our own inner worlds. Through each small action and thought, let’s deeply appreciate the roots and causes behind cultural differences, and discover the resonance and contrasts that bind us together.

Culture doesn’t have an absolute sense of good or bad; it’s through every little detail that its unique beauty and richness are revealed. I hope that, in this journey, each of us can find more understanding, companionship, and strength, making us more resilient and warm, living in a world full of love and understanding.

Merry Christmas! 🎁
Thank you for being part of this journey. I wish you a Christmas filled with love and joy, and may the coming year be even more remarkable as we continue to walk this path together!

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1 month ago | [YT] | 9

That Girl in China

When I saw the fire in Hong Fu Court,
my heart tightened in a way I can hardly put into words.
And every time I come across interviews with the families,
I find myself in tears again —
not once, but over and over —
unable to calm down for a long time afterwards.

This city is not just where we live —
it’s a place we carry inside us,
a place filled with memories, routines, voices,
and people we may never meet but still quietly care about.

A tragedy like this doesn’t only burn a building.
It burns the illusion that “everyone is fine.”
It burns into our collective memory —
a reminder of how fragile safety actually is,
and how easily ordinary lives can be overturned in a single night.

We feel heartbroken not because we are weak,
but because these are our neighbours,
our elders,
our families in another form.
Because Hong Kong, for all its toughness,
has always been built from the tenderness between strangers.

Tonight,
I just want to say one thing:
may those we lost rest in peace,
may the injured recover soon,
and may the people who survived
never feel alone.

And for the rest of us —
may we remember,
may we care,
and may this city learn to protect the lives of its people
not only when tragedy happens,
but long before it ever does.

2 months ago | [YT] | 29

That Girl in China

Our TVs haven't broken, our schedules have
---
Over the past couple of years, every time I went home for Chinese New Year, I noticed the same thing:
my parents’ television was still the tiny, bulky one they bought ten years ago.
The kind with a thick frame and a screen so small you have to squint from the sofa.
So I told them, “Let me buy you a new one.”
They didn’t even think about it.
They just waved their hands and said,
“There’s no need. We barely turn it on.”

And that was the moment I realised something important:
it’s not the TV that has aged—
it’s the way we live.

There was a time when the television was the centre of a Chinese home.
The sofa faced it, the coffee table made room for it,
and evenings revolved around whatever programme was about to start.
Back then, “watching TV” was a family activity.
Everyone sat together, reacted together, laughed at the same jokes,
and even argued about which channel to choose.

But now, the TV still stands in the same place,
only it has become a decoration—
a silent piece of furniture that no one remembers to switch on.
Not because people stopped liking TV,
but because daily life has become too fast,
too tiring, and too fragmented.

Most people return home from work well after nine or ten o’clock.
By the time they’re done with dinner and a shower,
they barely have enough energy to sit still,
let alone follow a full programme from start to finish.
Television requires time and attention.
Phones ask for neither.

A phone can be used in bed, on the sofa, in the lift,
even while standing in the kitchen waiting for water to boil.
It follows you everywhere,
adapts to your schedule,
and feeds you exactly what you want to see.
Television, on the other hand, still belongs to a slower world—
a world where people had the luxury to sit down.

Families, too, no longer “move together” the way they once did.
Instead of gathering around a single screen,
each person now follows their own digital path:
Dad scrolling through finance videos,
Mum watching dramas,
children gaming,
grandparents watching dance tutorials.
Everyone is online,
yet somehow no one is together.

So when my parents told me
there was no need to replace the old TV,
what they really meant was simply:
“We don’t live that way anymore.”

The television hasn’t disappeared,
but the shared time that once revolved around it
has slowly faded.
The device in the living room is still there—
quiet, unchanged—
almost as if it’s gently reminding us
that it has been a long time
since the family sat together
and talked.

Is it the same in your country too? Do families still watch TV together, or has it become just another object in the living room?

2 months ago | [YT] | 15

That Girl in China

A few years ago, when I returned to the mainland, I accompanied a friend to a hospital to get a vaccination.
It was winter, and the hospital had put up those very thick cotton curtains to block the cold wind in the corridors.

I remember queueing behind two people — a couple.
The woman was pregnant, and her husband was accompanying her, probably for a prenatal check-up.
My friend and I were both women.
I was standing in front of them.

When it was our turn to go through the heavy curtain, I lifted it first and gestured for the pregnant woman to go ahead.
She looked genuinely surprised for a second, then quickly walked inside.
Her husband followed immediately afterwards, squeezing in before I even stepped forward — and he didn’t say anything.
Not a word of thanks.
Not even a glance.

It was such a tiny moment, almost insignificant in daily life.
But it reflected something I’ve talked about in my videos:
many people in China really are not used to saying “thank you” to strangers.
And if someone isn’t in the habit of thanking strangers, it’s even harder for them to thank friends or family.

Interestingly, whenever I talk about this topic online, many people rush into the comments insisting,
“Chinese people absolutely say thank you!”
And honestly, I’m glad to hear that — because it means there are many polite Chinese families, both inside the country and living abroad.

But we also need to acknowledge another truth:
the people commenting under my videos often belong to a small, more educated, more international segment of society.
Many have lived overseas for years; some grew up in bilingual environments; others work in global companies.
Of course their behaviour and social habits are different.

Yet the group I talk about in my videos is the far larger group —
the ordinary people living across the vast mainland, in small towns, rural areas, and busy cities,
the ones who haven’t been exposed to Western-style politeness routines or formal social etiquette.

For them, not saying “thank you” is not rudeness.
It’s simply normal.
It’s cultural.
It’s how they grew up.

And that tiny moment in the hospital, years ago,
quietly reminded me of exactly that. ☘️

3 months ago | [YT] | 28

That Girl in China

I remember there was one time in China, I changed my car — but I didn’t know how to install the license plate.
So I went to the repair shop where I have a membership.
It wasn’t a hard task, but the mechanic spent almost 20 minutes fixing it,
because the plate holder was a bit broken.

When he finally finished, I asked,
“How much should I pay you?”
He smiled and said,
“Oh, it’s fine — no need to pay.”

It made me think:
in China, this kind of “no need to pay” moment often carries warmth.
It’s not just about money — it’s about relationship.
About saying, we’re connected enough that this doesn’t have to be a transaction.

I wonder…
in your country, would this kind of small service usually be free — or not? 🚗🌿

3 months ago | [YT] | 14

That Girl in China

She was sleeping like this —
paws up, dreaming of nothing serious.
Then I put my pen down,
too tired to write another line.

She opened her eyes,
stretched once,
walked straight over,
and gave me a little kiss on the nose.

No big gestures —
just a small nose,
a quiet touch,
and everything felt lighter again.

Sometimes comfort doesn’t speak.
It just leans in. 🕊️🐾

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3 months ago | [YT] | 15

That Girl in China

🌿 TGIC | 295 → 300 ☕️

295 now… almost 300.
It’s not a big number,
but it feels quietly meaningful.

Thank you for being here —
for watching,
understanding,
and growing with TGIC.

3 months ago | [YT] | 18

That Girl in China

🌿 100 Subscribers — A Small Number, But It Means So Much

When I uploaded my first video, I wasn’t sure if anyone would even watch it.
Now, seeing 100 of you here — listening, thinking, and sharing — means more than words can say.

This channel is still small, but it’s growing with heart.
Thank you for being here from the beginning,
for letting me tell stories about China, about culture, and about the little emotions we all share.

Here’s to the next chapter — more stories, more reflection, more connection.
💛 Thank you, truly.

> — Shu-an, from TGIC 🌿

3 months ago (edited) | [YT] | 25