From curiosity to confidence: How Chinese dramas now tell the real story of modern China

In 2015, Netflix acquired Empresses in the Palace, a sprawling, opulent Chinese period drama that introduced international audiences to the allure of dynastic intrigue and imperial court life. A decade later, Chinese television dramas are no longer a cultural novelty – they're a global content contender.

From glossy love stories to gritty urban thrillers, Chinese dramas have moved beyond the cloistered domain of costume epics to reflect a modern, multifaceted China. The shift is no accident, but driven by many excellent movers and shakers behind the scenes. Among them is Jessica Quan, manager at Shinning Studio, Hujing Digital Media & Entertainment Group, and a semifinal judge for the 2025 International Emmy Awards.

Quan has spent years navigating the complexities of global content licensing and cross-cultural storytelling. Her work has helped catapult titles like The First Frost and Regeneration into Netflix top 10 lists worldwide, while simultaneously reshaping the global perception of what Chinese storytelling can offer.

"People used to think China only make good period dramas," Quan said in an interview with CGTN. "But today, it's our contemporary stories – about love, social pressures, and real lives – that are resonating deeply across continents."

Judging the world, rethinking home

Quan recently returned from serving on the Emmy jury, where she was tasked with evaluating series from countries whose works were priorly foreign to her. While she cannot disclose which region she judged, she describes the experience as "eye-opening."

"I was stunned by the innovation in storytelling, the attention to structure, and the depth of the narratives," she recalls. "These weren't shows from large markets – but the craftsmanship was meticulous. It made me reflect critically on our own work."

She shared an anecdote from a studio visit in the US, where a 10-meter indoor street set was recreated down to the lipstick stain on a water bottle straw. "That level of detail didn't cost more – it came from a mindset," she explains. "Their crew saw themselves as creators, not just workers. They were making art, not clocking hours."

While China's production hardware – from cameras to soundstages – is globally competitive, Quan argues that the true gap lies in soft skills: In script development, pacing, and narrative density. "It's not about more equipment. It's about investing time, spirit, and pride into each frame," she says.

From export to empathy

The past 10 years have seen Chinese dramas expand far beyond their roots. The content now spans crime thrillers, family sagas, and coming-of-age dramas – and their audiences are no longer limited to Chinese-speaking communities in Southeast Asia.

Quan tells the story of a young woman on the Greek island of Rhodes who recognized her at a local honey stall. "She said, 'I'm watching The First Frost. I love it.' I almost cried. She said it was the first time she felt she understood what modern China is like."

For Quan, this kind of emotional resonance marks the real progress of China's cultural exports. "Ten years ago, people saw us through stories of poverty or feudalism. Now, they see us through the eyes of young people in metropolises falling in love, or dealing with mental health, or chasing dreams."

A young viewer in South Korea wrote to Quan saying that The First Frost helped her recover from a breakup-induced depression. "She said the show gave her hope again. That's when I knew – we're not just making entertainment. We're making connections," Quan said.

This success is also reflected in numbers. The First Frost reached No. 6 on Netflix's global chart – a rare feat for a non-English-language series. Titles like Regeneration with their innovative narrative structure and psychological depth, have also been praised for their bold creativity.

Quan emphasized that these achievements weren't the result of deliberately targeting overseas markets. "No one starts out thinking, 'Can this show sell abroad?'" she says. "They start by asking, 'Is this story worth telling? Can it move people?' If you do that well, the global audience will follow naturally."

A future built on craft, not speed

Despite China's growing influence in the global content market, Quan remains candid about internal challenges – especially the domestic industry's relentless pace.

"In South Korea, top writers might take two years to write one series," she notes. “In China, some write five a year. That's not sustainable if we want depth."

The reasons are systemic: Reputations bring immediate commercial opportunities, and creators are under pressure to capitalize. "But that leads to shortcuts," she warns. "We have to move away from fast content toward meaningful content. Otherwise, we're no better than short videos."

She calls for a renewed "craftsman spirit" – a phrase she returns to often. "Whether you're a prop assistant or a director, you should treat the project like your lifelong work. We need to build not just hardware, but also cultivate production talent. That's how we raise the bar."

Exporting with confidence

Quan believes the next decade will require even greater investment in global cultural exchanges. That means more international co-productions, more participation in top-tier festivals, and more subtitled, localized releases of Chinese dramas on mainstream platforms.

"Our stories are ready. Now, we have to put them in front of people," she says. "Not just in Southeast Asia, but in Latin America, Europe, and beyond."

She also believes innovation – narrative, visual, and thematic – is the only path forward. "If I could predict what the future will look like," she said with a smile, "then it's not innovation. Our job is to surprise people. To make them feel something they've never felt."

In the end, Quan's faith lies in the power of great and well told stories. "The world is ready to listen," she says. "The question is: Are we ready to speak with clarity, honesty, and sincerity?"

"It's no longer about making shows for foreign markets. It's about making something truthful – and letting the world find itself in our stories," Quan said.