The polished floors of Sisters Who Make Waves (乘风破浪的姐姐) reflect more than just stage lights—they mirror the scrutiny facing contestant Zhu Xudan (祝绪丹). Known for playing icy antagonists like Xuannü in Eternal Love (三生三世十里桃花) and the vengeful Zhou Zhiruo (周芷若) in The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber (倚天屠龙记) , Zhu’s recent pivot to bubbly antics on variety shows has ignited fierce debate. In Dining With Friends (朋友请吃饭), she giggles through cooking mishaps, peppers sentences with dialect slang, and punctuates conversations with exaggerated pouts.
This jarring shift from her on-screen intensity has viewers asking: Is this authenticity or a calculated embrace of the "quirky cute" persona popularized by fellow actress Yu Shuxin (虞书欣)?
Villain Turned Viral Charmer
Zhu Xudan’s decade-long career cemented her as Chinese television’s go-to villain. Her breakthrough role as Xuannü (玄女), a sorceress manipulating love through dark magic, required glacial poise. Later, her Zhou Zhiruo simmered with repressed fury, culminating in a sword fight where her eyes conveyed more betrayal than dialogue. These characters earned praise for psychological depth—a stark contrast to her current reality TV persona.
On Sisters Who Make Waves 6, Zhu trades brooding stares for pigtail braids. During rehearsals, she playfully mimics teammates’ dance errors, punctuating feedback with cartoonish sound effects. In Dining With Friends, she squeals over spicy hotpot, using Sichuan dialect to banter with chefs. Footage of her attempting to flip a pancake—only to send it airborne—went viral, tagged #ZhuVsGravity.
Critics argue this evolution feels abrupt. Before 2025, Zhu’s interviews featured measured tones and modest attire. Now, her social media overflows with pastel outfits and winking selfies. Supporters counter that variety shows reveal hidden dimensions: "Actors aren’t their roles," one fan tweeted, sharing behind-the-scenes clips of Zhu blowing bubbles between takes on Eternal Love.
The "Copycat" Controversy
When a viral video montage juxtaposed Zhu’s new mannerisms—head tilts, vocal fry, and exaggerated gasps—with Yu Shuxin’s signature style, accusations erupted. Yu, famed for her "chaotic charm" in dramas like My Little Happiness (我的小确幸), built a brand on unfiltered whimsy. Detractors labeled Zhu’s shift "strategic imitation," citing her sudden adoption of Yu’s trademark phrases like "soooo annoying!" and "literally dying!"
Online forums dissected every gesture. "Why pout mid-sentence now when she never did before?" questioned a Weibo thread with 20K+ shares. Others mocked her age: "Thirty-year-olds playing cutesy feels desperate," commented one Douyin user. Even Zhu’s laughter faced scrutiny; critics claimed it sounded higher-pitched than in pre-2025 interviews.
Zhu addressed the backlash head-on during a Sisters confessional: "This is me—energetic, clumsy, loving life." She acknowledged typecasting’s power: "Xuannü and Zhou Zhiruo were masterpieces, but they’re not my autobiography." Her candor extended to past struggles, revealing she once hid in dressing rooms scrolling fan art to combat negativity. "Now? I’ll just dance through the hate," she shrugged, referencing her viral disco challenge on the show.
Society’s Script for Women
This spectacle transcends celebrity gossip. Zhu’s case exposes rigid societal expectations for female behavior: mature women must avoid "childish" expressions, while actresses risk backlash for deviating from established personas. "Zhu’s ‘cuteness’ clashes with her past ‘strength,’ triggering discomfort." Supporters echo this, flooding Zhu’s Instagram with #UnapologeticallyCute testimonials. "My grandma rocks unicorn pajamas at 70," posted user @MangoCheesecake. "Let Zhu live!"
The controversy also highlights generational divides. Older audiences equate Zhu’s antics with unseriousness, while Gen-Z applauds her refusal to "act her age." Zhu isn’t ‘playing’ cute—she’s reclaiming joy."
Zhu Xudan’s journey underscores a cultural crossroads. In defending her right to whimsy, she challenges scripts that demand women fit singular molds. Whether her charm offensive wins converts or deepens divides, one truth remains: the camera captures more than performance—it reflects society’s unresolved tensions about who women are allowed to be.
