I never imagined that drinking hot water would one day go viral on global social media—my mom has always reminded me about it, though I seldom do.
The phenomenon of young Western generations adopting traditional Chinese lifestyles has sparked a trend, or should I say, a meme, called “Chinamaxxing” on TikTok since late 2025.
Like anything associated with China, this lighthearted moment has also drawn controversy: some say it’s cultural appropriation, and politically sensitive outlets say it’s a trap set by China’s soft power campaign. In that case, I should be blamed for eating bread instead of porridge for breakfast and for falling into the sweet Troy-and-Gabriella trap of “High School Musical” in middle school.
Why can’t we accept that it’s both refreshing and fun to try a new lifestyle, even if it's not “authentic”? I am in my globalmaxxing phase, if not all the time, mixing up my food and drink choices and shifting my playlist among classical music, K-pop, ballads, and songs whose lyrics I don’t understand. Music takes me somewhere else at the lowest cost.
If the current TikTok trend hasn’t satisfied your curiosity about experiencing a very Chinese moment, try adding some guzheng (a Chinese plucked zither) tracks to your daily routine — whether you’re boiling herbal tea, practicing Tai Chi, or unwinding before bed. The instrument's clear, flowing sound, echoing through thousands of years, will transport you to a tranquil space that harmonizes nature's beauty with human emotions, leaving behind real-world chaos and busyness.
“Yu Zhou Chang Wan (The Fisherman’s Song at Dusk)” is perfect background music for watching a sunset, or any time you want to feel that warm orange hue. Starting with a simple, slow melody, the soft glissandos and vibrations evoke sunlight gently melting into the lake. The sound from the wooden box has an indescribable magic that calms you in a restless moment and warms you on a chilly day from the very first second. Loops of plucks brush across the strings, like waves gently lapping the lake's shore. The gradual acceleration mirrors the fishermen’s happiness as they return home with their catch. It takes you to the lakeside for five minutes, leaving a lasting good feeling for the rest of the day. As the final harmonic note rings out ethereally, like a crisp bell drifting into the sunset, you return to the real world, take a sip of boiled herbal tea—fatigue gone, replaced by fulfillment.
A similar Chinamaxxing trend emerged in China during COVID, when young millennials and Gen Z realized life's fragility and began practicing yangsheng (a Chinese tradition of gentle wellness and self-care). Drinking hot water doesn’t provide additional nutrition; Tai Chi doesn’t burn more calories. But they make us slow down, while the world asks us to move fast. Rather than battling against headwinds, it is fine to stay self-centered and resilient in tough times. That’s why I listen to “Ding Feng Bo (Calming the Waves)” whenever I need to gear up but want to stay still for a while. The contemporary guzheng musician Yiqun Deng composed this guzheng-piano concerto during a low time, inspired by a famous Song Ci — an expressive poetic form in ancient Chinese literature. While the rapid strums and intense arpeggios set me amid howling winds and lashing rain in the forest mountains, its expansive, free melody feels like a gazebo, where I can take a breath, listen to the raindrops hitting the tree leaves, and then slowly continue my journey. Rather than chasing the sunrise, the music reconciles me with the storm, bringing a smile of relief, even when my hair is soaked.
I now reserve a short time slot each day to play or listen to guzheng tracks, depending on my mood. I trace nature's resurgence around me—the melting icicle and the growing green—with “Xue Shan Chun Xiao (Spring Comes to the Snowy Mountain).” I travel with a soulmate to an ancient Xanadu of spectacular landscapes through “Gao Shan Liu Shui (Lofty Mountains and Flowing Water).” I feel invited to bonfires of various minor ethnic communities through their dance songs, and the most hospitable one is “Yi Zu Wu Qu (Dance of the Yi People).”
Like many traditional Chinese artworks, these tracks depict harmony between humans and nature: what you see is how you feel, and what you see changes how you feel.
As with food and occasions — popcorn for movies, champagne for celebrations — music transports us through time and space, landing us where we feel connected. The temporary escape can’t change anything in the real world, but it brings back a refreshed version of our minds.
It took me 30 years to post my first travel Instagram story from New York City, set to “Empire State of Mind.” But you can be in your very Chinese moment by listening to a track.