Doubao and Alibaba’s Qwen both announced that their agent features will go offline on July 15. That date happens to coincide with the official start of the “Interim Measures for the Management of Anthropomorphic Interactive AI Services.” Online, many people immediately called it a government ban on AI virtual companions.

      If you look at what is actually being removed, however, it’s not the new generation of agents everyone is excited about. The two are completely different things. It looks more like the big companies are using the new rule as a convenient moment to cut legacy teams and products so they can focus resources on the newer systems.

      In these two years, the world was obsessed with one dramatic question: Will AI hurt humanity? Will it replace us? Will it rule us? Elon Musk, Sam Altman, Dario Amodei — everyone was shouting.

      But while the debate raged, China quietly built an advantage in a different contest — the race over algorithms. And it did so in a very Chinese way: not by inventing the best chips or the strongest models, but by creating the world’s most intense competitive arena.

1. China’s internet ecosystem

      People call it the “gu jar.” In an old legend from southwest China, you throw various poisonous insects — centipedes, scorpions, and the like — into a jar. They fight and bite until only the strongest, most toxic one remains: the gu king.

      China’s internet ecosystem works a bit like that jar.

      Inside go hundreds of millions of atomized individuals and countless small merchants. A group of highly compliant platforms runs the jar. Fierce algorithms battle inside. And sitting on the lid is the “jar keeper” — the government. It doesn’t lift the lid, but it controls the temperature and sets the rules that decide who ultimately wins.

      After brutal elimination, the survivors that crawled out include global powerhouses like TikTok, Temu (Pinduoduo’s overseas version), and Shein — plus rising stars like Meituan and Didi that are now expanding worldwide.

2. How does the government manage this jar?

       In February 2025, China’s State Administration for Market Regulation issued the Anti-Monopoly Compliance Guidelines for Internet Platforms. It was followed by waves of meetings with companies, clearly defining eight types of new monopoly risks.

      In plain terms: the insects in the jar were told — these eight ways of “biting” are not allowed.

The eight categories roughly cover:

• Algorithm collusion between platforms:
  Platforms share data and coordinate against users. Search for something on Taobao, and suddenly Douyin recommendations become eerily targeted.
• Helping merchants form price-fixing agreements:
  Platforms assist sellers in setting unified prices or price ranges.
• Unfair high pricing by platforms:
  Using dominant position to raise commission rates that merchants can’t escape (often discussed in the context of Meituan).
• Selling below cost:
  Aggressive subsidy wars, such as Alibaba’s zero-yuan purchase campaigns against Meituan.
• Blocking and shielding:
  Preventing mentions of competitors (e.g., saying “Dou something Yin” instead of Douyin on WeChat).
• Exclusive dealing (“choose one or the other”):
  Merchants can only operate on one platform.
• “Lowest price across the web” (most-favored-nation treatment):
   Influencers sign agreements requiring the absolute lowest price.
• Differential treatment by platforms:
  Big-data price discrimination — new users get better deals than returning ones.

      These rules aim to stop algorithms from being weaponized for monopoly power.

3. Consumers can fight back too — the “add to cart and wait” trick

      Interestingly, consumers sometimes turn the tables. The simplest move: see something you like, add it to your cart, but don’t check out immediately.

      Why does it work? Once the item is in your cart, the algorithm shifts into full persuasion mode — flooding you with coupons, reminders, bundle suggestions, and loyalty points. The goal is simple: get you to complete the purchase.

      Algorithms operate in stages. First they figure out who you are and what you like. Then they bombard you with content. Once you engage, they double down. The moment you add to cart, the mission changes to “close the deal.”

      Platforms would rather give bigger discounts and more coupons than risk an uncompleted transaction. Their core metric is completed orders, not maximizing profit per order.

4. Why can only China grow these kinds of “monsters”?

Three key conditions make this system especially effective in China:

i. Increasing social atomization
      China now has around 320 million flexibly employed people — nearly half of its 700+ million labor force. Many lack stable employers and work in highly individualized, gig-style arrangements. This gives algorithm platforms a massive pool of atomized users and workers. The West hasn’t reached this stage yet, largely due to unions, industry associations, and legal protections. But in the AI era, societies worldwide are likely heading in this direction — exactly the environment these platforms are built to thrive in.

ii. Few traditional brakes or constraints
      Western platforms face unions, lawsuits, and public scrutiny that limit how aggressively they can compete. Chinese platforms operate with fewer external restraints because the system favors atomization for social stability reasons.

iii. Highly concentrated government power
      Western governments that want to regulate algorithms often hit limits from checks and balances. China’s government can set rules, summon companies, and adjust enforcement granularity more directly. This gives the “jar keeper” strong control over the arena.

      Inside this jar, algorithms don’t just target consumers — they also manage delivery riders and small merchants (tiny restaurants, shops, etc.). The government uses frequent guidelines and meetings, mainly targeting big platforms (because they’re large enough and responsive), to keep the whole system stable. High-profile actions, like pulling Didi back from the stock market, serve as strong signals.

5. How powerful are these “monsters” once they go global?

       Once they leave the jar, these companies show remarkable strength. TikTok dominates global short video. Temu disrupts Western e-commerce with ultra-low prices. Shein has taken fast fashion worldwide.

      Meituan and Didi are expanding into Hong Kong, Southeast Asia, Brazil, and the Middle East.

      Local traditional businesses struggle to compete. These companies were forged in China’s most brutal market conditions: they understand human psychology deeply, squeeze efficiency relentlessly, and know exactly how to dance on the edge of rules.

      They often expand using a “scout” approach — small overseas-registered teams or entities test the waters while parent companies provide resources and subsidies. Once they scale, they become hard to dislodge. TikTok, for example, set up a U.S. data-management company, but the core algorithm and operations remain under ByteDance control.

6. The cost — and the open question

      This gu-jar system is undeniably powerful. It has allowed China to lead in adapting algorithms to an atomized society and has produced a batch of globally competitive platforms.

      Yet the jar is fed by hundreds of millions of ordinary people who have been repeatedly “bitten”: delivery workers facing tighter time windows and lower pay, small merchants operating on razor-thin margins, and consumers navigating information asymmetry and algorithmic nudges.

      When a society is largely connected and managed through algorithms, and the main restraining force rests with the government alone, life inside the jar can feel precarious.

      The AI era is only beginning. Atomization will deepen, algorithms will grow stronger. The surviving “monsters” will only become more potent.

      The real question is this: Besides the jar keeper’s hand on the lid, can the people inside also hold onto a rope of their own — some form of meaningful counterbalance?

      There is no clear answer yet. But for anyone who has been shaped by these algorithms — and who has shaped others through them — it’s a question worth keeping in mind.

    On June 23 in Hamburg, Germany, the global supercomputing "summit showdown" — the TOP500 list — was updated. China's supercomputer LingSheng quietly took the top spot, pushing the U.S. machine El Capitan, which had held the lead for over a year, down to second place.
    This marks the first time since 2017's Sunway TaihuLight that a Chinese supercomputer has reclaimed the world #1 position after more than eight years. Many people's first reaction might be "way ahead"? This does indded have something to do with Huawei, but it's not that simple.
    Some ask: Isn't this just AI computing power? Actually, it's quite different. Others wonder: Where are Google and Microsoft? How did a machine this huge even get scored without being shipped to Germany? Today, let's break it all down clearly and objectively — no hype, just the facts.

1. What Exactly Does TOP500 Test?

    The TOP500 list has been around since 1993 and is updated twice a year (June and November). It's basically the supercomputing world's report card. It only has one test: LINPACK — solving an extremely large system of linear equations and measuring how many floating-point operations can be done per second.
    Two key terms to remember:

• Measured performance (Rmax): 

• Double precision (FP64): 

• Computing speed: 2.198 exaflops of double-precision performance (currently the world's fastest)
• Processor: LX2 (ARMv9 architecture), 304 cores per chip, two chips per node
• Scale: Over 20,000 nodes, more than 40,000 CPUs, totaling 13.79 million cores, housed in 92 cabinets
• Power consumption: 42 megawatts at full load — about 370 million kWh per year, costing over 200 million RMB in electricity (at Chinese rates), plus dedicated substations and a full liquid cooling system

• The test itself includes built-in verification — if the error exceeds 16, the result is automatically invalidated.

• A single global scoring standard.

• Official verification rights with random on-site audits.

• Reputation — the community is small, and getting caught faking data would embarrass the entire institution and country.

• Tianjin (Tianhe-1 & Tianhe-3): Petroleum, aerospace, biomedicine, controlled nuclear fusion, high-end equipment, animation rendering
• Guangzhou (Tianhe-2): Biomedicine, automotive, shipbuilding, film/animation, finance, nuclear power, oceanography, public safety
• Wuxi (Sunway TaihuLight): Oceanography, oil & gas, climate, industrial design, animation rendering (the 2016 fully domestic champion)
• Jinan (Sunway Blue Light): Oceanography, modern agriculture, oil & gas, drug screening, finance
• Zhengzhou (Songshan): Digital economy, precision medicine, biological breeding, environment, AI-related computing
• Kunshan (Yangtze River Delta Major Science Facility): AI, biomedicine, materials, atmosphere, oceanography