[Editor’s note: Vivian Wei Wu is a leading investigative reporter and new media studies scholar in China. Currently, she is the International Cooperation Director for Initium Media, a Hong Kong-based news, features and data journalism website and app. Prior to moving to New York City in August 2016 for a Political Science graduate program at the New School, Wu was the chief content director for China News at Initium Media in Beijing. Wu has more than 15 years of experience working in newspapers, magazines, TV and digital media. Among many other posts, she was editorial director at the celebrity magazine Portrait in China; media and legal reporter at the South China Morning Post Beijing Bureau for six years; and content supervisor at CCTV-6 for four years. She has won a great number of journalism awards in Hong Kong and Asia.
Wu has published hundreds of investigative reports, most notably reports on corruption, the crackdown on civil rights lawyers, food and drug safety, and environmental pollution. Because of her truthful reporting, she has been harassed by authorities on numerous occasions.
China Insight recently interviewed Wu via emails where she reflected on her career and her choice to be an investigative reporter, a highly dangerous profession in China.
The elegant qipao has a distinctive man- darin collar and slitted skirt that reaches mid- thigh. The traditional Chinese women’s national dress is an imagery of China made popular by Hollywood in the 1920s and 1930s.
The qipao, also known as the cheongsam, originated in Manchurian China during the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911). Qipao was originally a long, wide, loose- tting garment. Legend has it that a sherwoman made it more practical and less cumbersome by making it slimmer, but with slits at the sides to en- able her to tuck the front of the customized “qipao” in. At the same time, legend said the young emperor woke from a dream that said a sherwoman in a qipao would become his consort. He sent his men out to nd the sherwoman and the sherwoman became the emperor’s wife.
Since then, Manchu women copied the sherwoman’s qipao style. With the fall of the Qing Dynasty and great social change, tailors found a way to revamp the qipao. The waist was nipped, dress shortened, sleeves also were shortened and the entire qipao was slimmed down to hip the curves. One of the socialites of the time, the in uential Soong
Ching-ling, wore the gure-hugging gown and made it the fashion de rigeur for women all over China – the symbol of modernity.
The qipao was phased out with the dawn of the Cultural Revolution, which dictated the uniformity of the unisex Mao suit. After the Cultural Revolution, western in uence increased and the qipao was only worn at formal occasions.
In recent years, it has made a comeback in mainstream fashion. In 2007, the Shang- hai Cheongsam Salon was created to pro- mote the elegance of the national dress. The 2013 Beijing Fashion Week had a number of pieces inspired by the qipao. And fashion houses such as Dior, Gucci, Lauren, Versace and Vuitton had been incorporating ele- ments of the qipao on their runways. Could a qipao revival be close behind? ♦
According to the U.S. house-and-home media, tiny house-living is trending big. In Hong Kong, tiny homes have been the way of life for many for decades! A population of 7.2 million people squeezed into 426 square miles.
However, things have reached a new (small) record in Hong Kong - a developer is planning to market spaces as homes on the island’s Happy Valley district that are not much bigger than shoeboxes!
The developer, Emperor International Holdings, plans to convert an existing 21-storey commercial building into 68 “apartments,” each at 61.4 square feet, except for four larger ones, measuring 121.6 square feet each. However, the filing with the Building Department does mention that the 61.4 square feet excludes kitchen and bathroom space. According to a Hong Kong valuation and consultant firm, even accounting for additional kitchen and bathroom space, the Emperor apartments “will still be the smallest flats in Hong Kong.” (For comparison, the average cell at Hong Kong’s Stanley Prison is 81 square feet.)
On a May 2015 morning, a scientist opened his front door in suburban Philadelphia and his life was turned completely upside down.
“It was so urgent, the pounding was so urgent that I run here to open the door without even being fully dressed,” recounted Xiaoxing Xi. He was being interviewed by Bill Whitaker of CBS’ “60 Minutes” for a piece titled “Collateral Damage.
The segment aired on May 15, 2016, and addresses the U.S. government’s fight against economic espionage conducted by China to gain American trade secrets and intellectual property. Xi, the then chair of the Temple University physics department, is the “collateral damage.”
On opening his door that May morning, Xi was greeted with men in bulletproof vests with guns who handcuffed and arrested him on the spot. The men were from the FBI. He was accused of selling U.S. technology secrets to China. In September 2015, the Department of Justice dropped all charges against him. But damage to his career and finances were done.
Sad to say, Xi’s case is not an isolated incident:
In October 2013, two Chinese scientists at Eli Lilly were arrested and jailed for passing proprietary information to a Chinese drug company. Turned out the information was not proprietary after all and the charges were changed to wire fraud.