The Internet turned China’s most fascinating online personality into a toy

By Lan Ge

来都来了。Since I am here, I might as well meet her. Think of it as exposure therapy for unexpected human interaction. Or, if you insist on details, in a toy store, I have just bumped into the infamous 红姐 (hongjie) or Sister Hong, the reason every single man—single or not—in Nanjing now only meets women in well-lit, heavily surveilled public 广场 (guangchang) or plazas. But here I was alone with the totally identifiable, blunt-cut wig and face mask, hand holding out a watermelon from whomever brought it for her earlier. In the store, Sister Hong stood out among the various characters from the still popular Monsters family. This was not an action figure that many guys gravitate to, this was one woman every Chinese man now shudder when he sees a bottle of peanut oil.

For those who do not know what a whole watermelon can offer, it’s apparently a legitimate form of currency in the shadowy Chinese dating economy. Sister Hong did not ask for cash; she offered high quality companionship in exchange for anything from the grocery store. And while the full suite of the Sister Hong experience was enjoyed, it was secretly recorded. Then, suddenly, hundreds of Chinese men—some described as 壮士 (zhuangshi or strong guys)—realised they were not just getting lucky, they were actually starring in a low-budget, high-stakes viral documentary. The sheer number of videos and the men featured made the case go viral on Chinese social media. Sister Hong was arrested, but it is not clear if the police accepted a gift basket of fruit as her bond. And now, who would have thought that I would meet the famous Sister Hong—the woman who haunts China’s dating apps—in a little shop in Bugis Junction?

The Sister Hong before me looked much better than the real deal, I thought—a strange fact that offered a level of disappointment, making online banking look appealing. Here was her likeness, complete with the bob wig and the surgical mask that revealed only her beseeching eyes. She wore a black long-sleeved top and a long brown skirt with box pleats. In her left hand, she held the watermelon that has become a fruit of prominence in China. On the box, the doll wasn’t identified by her pseudonym, but by four unmistakable Chinese characters: 来都来了 (laidou laile). The punchline, of course, is that after the videos circulated, one victim reportedly discovered the deception mid-encounter and—in a darkly comedic act of ultimate resignation—proceeded anyway, “since I’m here!”

I was happy to meet Sister Hong, but it was her maker that fascinated me. This was a local product, produced not in China, but by a Singaporean 3-D printing company, Studio Toki. A salesman from the toy store told me that only 50 pieces were made, and her fans were so many that there were now only three left. In fact, the resin Sister Hong was launched on 20 August, 11 days after National Day. Crucially, this is not a blind box, so what you see is what you get, unlike, regrettably, the Sister herself. Inside each box, apart from the doll, there is a replacement full-head and an extra wig so that she can go back to being he, a bottle of cooking oil, an apple, and a pair of bananas, in case she no longer craved watermelons. But best of all, there is a separate companion for her, when she needs to have one. And he is none other than 臭男人 (chounanren, stinky man)—the “since I am here” scoundrel himself!

Sister Hong ‘来都来了doll’, SGD120, and 臭男人, SGD69, are available at De Figurelab, Bugis Junction. Photo: 蓝哥