BEIJING — China is stepping up its criticism of the aggressive pursuit of online attention after a string of viral incidents began spilling beyond social media and disrupting the lives of ordinary people and even public services.
The latest debate centers on what Chinese authorities and state media describe as the harmful side of “traffic” culture—the race among creators, fan groups and online users to generate views, engagement and publicity, sometimes at the expense of privacy, public order and limited government resources.
The issue gained fresh attention after a seemingly harmless internet sensation involving an elderly couple in Shaoxing, Zhejiang province, turned into an unwanted tourist attraction.
Seven gourds turn an elderly couple into an internet sensation
The couple’s home became a viral destination after images of seven gourds growing from their balcony spread online.
The scene reminded Chinese internet users of Calabash Brothers, a popular 1986 animated series featuring seven magical brothers born from gourds. Online users subsequently dubbed the 75-year-old homeowner “Calabash Grandpa.”
What began as a feel-good internet story quickly attracted crowds.
Visitors gathered near the couple’s riverside home to photograph the gourds, livestream the scene and call out to the elderly man. Some reportedly knocked on the couple’s door, while the sheer number of visitors began interfering with their daily lives.
The situation eventually became so overwhelming that the couple decided to cut down the gourds.
Local reports said the decision also reflected concerns about crowd safety around the riverside property and the exhaustion caused by the constant stream of visitors.
The episode has become a vivid example of how a positive online trend can change dramatically once thousands of people attempt to turn a private moment into an in-person attraction.
When fandom spills into government services
The controversy is not limited to viral tourism.
In Xuzhou, Jiangsu province, a separate incident involving fans of a boy group triggered an extraordinary volume of complaints through the city’s 12345 government service hotline.
According to reporting published by People’s Daily, nearly 50,000 requests flooded the hotline within a short period, with more than 80 percent reportedly related to a dispute over whether certain two-person or multi-person performance segments should be retained or changed at a concert.
Other Chinese media reports citing information from the Xuzhou 12345 service said the hotline received 48,795 concert-related complaints, with 47.54 percent seeking changes to the performances and 33.81 percent calling for the performances to remain.
The controversy was significant because the hotline exists to handle public-service concerns—not to settle disputes over the artistic or commercial decisions of an entertainment company.
The massive influx forced hotline personnel to handle an extraordinary workload, according to reports.
People’s Daily subsequently warned that public resources are not free or unlimited, arguing that large volumes of repetitive or unrelated complaints can consume resources that are intended for genuine public needs.
Beijing’s broader internet crackdown
The discussion comes as China is already conducting a much broader campaign to clean up online content.
In September, China’s Cyberspace Administration said its latest campaign had removed millions of pieces of harmful or illegal content and dealt with tens of thousands of accounts across websites and applications.
Authorities have also been targeting AI-generated misinformation, fake disaster scenes, sensationalized content and low-quality synthetic material, as well as accounts that use misleading content to attract traffic.
Earlier enforcement efforts have also focused on short-video accounts that stage fake incidents without properly identifying them as scripted or dramatized content. Chinese regulators said some accounts fabricated emotional stories and staged scenarios specifically to attract public sympathy and attention.
That means the latest criticism of “toxic traffic” fits into a wider effort by Chinese authorities to place greater limits on how online attention is generated and used.
The privacy problem behind viral fame
The Shaoxing incident highlights another issue: going viral does not automatically mean someone has agreed to become a public attraction.
The elderly couple did not set out to become influencers. Their gourds became famous because other people photographed and shared them online.
As the story spread, however, the boundary between public interest and private life became increasingly blurred.
Local officials have urged visitors to be more considerate, while the incident has prompted discussion about how communities can balance viral tourism with residents’ right to privacy and peace.
A similar debate has emerged around so-called “camera bullying,” in which vloggers deliberately provoke people or film uncomfortable encounters to create more dramatic and engaging online content. A recent case involving a 92-year-old food vendor in China has added to concerns over creators turning ordinary people into unwilling characters in viral videos.
Why “traffic” has become a problem
China’s enormous digital ecosystem rewards content that attracts clicks, comments, shares and livestream viewers.
But when the pursuit of attention moves offline, the consequences can become much more tangible.
A viral location can suddenly receive crowds.
A social-media dispute can overwhelm a public hotline.
A staged video can damage someone’s reputation.
And a private individual can suddenly find strangers outside their home.
That is why Chinese authorities and state media are increasingly emphasizing restraint, boundaries and responsible online behavior, particularly when viral attention begins consuming public resources or interfering with other people’s lives.
The bigger question
The debate is no longer simply about whether something deserves to go viral.
It is about what happens after it does.
For the elderly couple in Shaoxing, internet fame ended with seven gourds being cut from their balcony.
For Xuzhou’s public hotline, an online fan dispute translated into tens of thousands of service requests.
And for China’s internet regulators, the growing challenge is how to prevent the pursuit of clicks and attention from turning into real-world disruption.
Because once “traffic” leaves the screen, someone has to deal with the consequences.
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