I help influencers like Khaby Lame tour China. I want them to build enduring fandoms — and sometimes feel like a nanny. [Business Insider]
I help influencers like Khaby Lame tour China. I want them to build enduring fandoms — and sometimes feel like a nanny.
When I first got the call to help manage a tour for Khaby Lame, the world’s most-followed TikToker, I knew it wouldn’t be simple. The man has 160 million followers. He doesn’t speak. He just shrugs. And he was about to land in Shanghai with a team of seven people, zero Chinese language skills, and a schedule that looked like a game of Tetris gone wrong.
I’m a fixer. That’s the unofficial title. Officially, I’m a local producer and cultural liaison for international creators visiting China. I do visas, hotels, filming permits, meal prep, and emotional support. But more than anything, I do damage control. Because when a mega-influencer lands in a country with a completely different internet ecosystem, you don’t just need a translator. You need someone who can explain why WeChat is not WhatsApp, why Douyin is not TikTok, and why showing up ten minutes late to a live stream with a Chinese KOL will get you ratioed into oblivion.
The reality of the China tour circuit
Influencers like Khaby don’t come to China just for the food. They come because the Chinese market is massive, and it pays. A single sponsored post on Douyin can net five to ten times what it does on Western platforms. But the catch is that the audience here is different. They don’t care about your global follower count. They care about whether you can eat hotpot without crying, whether you can say "thank you" in Mandarin, and whether you actually respect their culture.
Khaby got it. On his first day, I walked him through a basic script. He couldn't speak, but he could nod, smile, and hold up a thumbs up. That’s all he needed. We shot a video at a night market where he pretended to be amazed by a skewer of scorpions. It racked up 40 million views in 24 hours. Why? Because he didn’t act superior. He acted curious. That’s the secret sauce.
But it’s not all viral moments. There is a ton of behind-the-scenes work that nobody sees. I once had to negotiate with a hotel manager because an influencer’s room didn’t have a bidet. Another time, I had to explain to a creator why they couldn’t vape in a temple courtyard. And yes, I’ve held a makeup mirror for a creator while they did a touch-up in a moving van because their publicist forgot to book a green room. You feel like a nanny. But it beats the alternative, which is letting the influencer crash and burn on Chinese social media.
Building enduring fandoms, not flash-in-the-pan fame
My real job is not just to get them through the trip. It’s to help them build something that lasts. Too many international influencers come to China, post three viral videos, cash a check, and vanish. That’s a mistake. The Chinese fanbase has a long memory. If you treat them like a quick payday, they will forget you faster than a forgotten livestream link.
So I push for the long game. I encourage creators to do meet-and-greets, to learn a few phrases in Mandarin, to participate in local charity events, and to engage with regional influencers who actually have deep roots. When Khaby left, he had a Douyin account with verified blue check, a Weibo account with 8 million followers, and a contract with a local brand that will pay him over three years, not three weeks. That’s the difference between a tourist and a true cross-cultural star.
I also have to manage expectations on the other side. Chinese platforms are not the Wild West. There are rules. You can’t joke about politics. You can’t show too much skin in certain contexts. You can’t use certain emojis that might be misinterpreted. I once had to delete a video because an influencer flashed a peace sign that, in the specific lighting, looked like a gang sign to local viewers. It’s exhausting. But it’s necessary.
The nanny factor
Let me be honest. There are days when I feel less like a producer and more like a glorified babysitter. I’ve had to remind a 25-year-old millionaire to brush their teeth before a live stream. I’ve had to explain why you cannot argue with a street food vendor on camera. I’ve had to physically stop someone from filming inside a government building. These are grown adults, but when they’re jet-lagged, overwhelmed, and surrounded by a language they don’t understand, they revert to teenagers.
But I also love the job. Because when it works, it works beautifully. I see a creator like Khaby go from a shy, silent figure in a hotel lobby to a genuine cultural bridge. He didn’t just come to China to make content. He came to understand why 1.4 billion people laugh at the same jokes, eat the same noodles, and scroll the same apps. And when he left, he left a little piece of himself behind. That’s the goal.
If you are an influencer reading this and thinking about a China tour, do it. But hire a good fixer. And be ready to feel like a child again. Because in China, the internet doesn’t adapt to you. You adapt to it. And if you do it right, you don’t just get views. You get a fandom that lasts.
Author Bio: Ahmed Abed – News journalist