K-pop returns to China, but asks Chinese fans ‘Will you still love me?’

K-pop superstars are once again staging blockbuster concerts in Macao, while online music platforms are testing the waters against an unspoken ban in China

By Lee Shih Ta

Strictly speaking, a so-called “Hallyu ban,” barring Korean pop culture from China, never appeared in any official government document. Beijing never formally announced such restrictions, and thus could never explicitly lift them either. Yet for the past nine years, the reality has been clear: Korean dramas were pulled from Chinese TV screens, K-pop stars were edited out of programs, and idol tours came to a halt. The once-vibrant Korean Wave in China cooled overnight, turning from a warm current into a cold tide. Now, in 2025, the ice may finally be thawing.

According to Korean customs data, Korean audiovisual exports to China in January and February reached $9.25 million, 3.5 times higher than the same period a year earlier. In the first half of the year, cumulative exports exceeded $31.52 million, more than doubling year-on-year. These figures suggest that demand for Korean content in China has not disappeared. Once policy restrictions ease, even slightly, new consumer spending could quickly follow.

Offline activities tell a similar story. In recent years, the number of K-pop fan meetings in China has increased noticeably, from newcomer idols to veteran group members, gradually restoring closer interaction with Mainland Chinese fans. Although the scale is not yet comparable to the frenzy of the 2010s, the growing frequency of such events across an increasing number of cities signal that cultural exchanges are resuming.

An even more symbolic scene is playing out in Macao, which is part of China but enjoys a high degree of autonomy. Recent K-pop mega-concerts there have sold out and drawn large crowds of Mainland fans from across the border. Macao has thus become a window into a thaw of the “Hallyu ban,” showing that enthusiasm for K-pop among Chinese audiences never truly faded, only lay dormant.

Those most sensitive to this comeback include online music platforms. Tencent Music (TME.US) is a prime example. In May, the company invested 12.9 billion yuan ($1.8 billion) for a stake in South Korea’s SM Entertainment (041510.KQ), becoming its second-largest shareholder. Known for producing multiple generations of idols such as Super Junior, EXO, and aespa, many believe SM’s capital tie-up with a Chinese internet giant will systematically channel its K-pop resources into China.

Soon after, Tencent Music also announced partnerships with The Black Label and H MUSIC, further importing K-pop albums, music videos, and exclusive content. More significantly, Tencent introduced “Bubble,” a private fan-interaction community that has been hugely popular in South Korea. For 28 yuan, or about $4, fans can join an idol’s inner circle, receive exclusive messages, and even gain priority ticket access. This “emotional economy” is markedly boosting user stickiness and subscription rates.

The numbers speak for themselves. In the second quarter of 2025, Tencent Music reported revenue of 8.44 billion yuan ($1.17 billion), up 17.9% year-on-year, with net profit surging more than 30%. Its paying users surpassed 124 million, including 15 million super members. Analysts widely agree that the expansion of K-pop content and concert-related services were key drivers of this performance. By contrast, NetEase Cloud Music (9899.HK), which relies more heavily on independent musicians and community engagement, managed to turn a profit but still saw revenues decline in the first half of the year — underscoring the unique value of K-pop in driving platform loyalty.

But will you still love me?

K-pop’s apparent comeback does not necessarily mean a full revival. First, China’s entertainment landscape has undergone structural changes since K-pop’s untimely exit. Domestic films and idols have gained significant appeal in recent years. One such example is box office phenomenon “Ne Zha 2,” which showed that local culture can also spark nationwide excitement. K-pop’s re-entry into the Chinese market may serve more as a subcultural supplement rather than a dominant mainstream force.

Second, nearly a decade of restrictions has reshaped the cultural preferences of younger audiences. While policies may be loosening, some consumers now prefer to support domestic idols and cultural products. This psychological shift could be an invisible barrier to a full K-pop revival.

Finally, any platform’s reliance on external intellectual property (IP) carries inherent risks. Should policies tighten again, or should fan enthusiasm fade, platforms may find themselves facing another round of “content withdrawal.” For Tencent Music, K-pop is both a commercial wager and a delicate experiment in emotional economics.

From a business perspective, betting on K-pop to amplify emotional engagement is still worth the gamble. But when the lights of K-pop shine once more on China’s stages, the screams in the crowd may carry not only excitement at reunion, but also the complex emotions of uncertainty about the future.

Lee Shih Ta is an editor at Bamboo Works.

You can contact him at shihtalee@thebambooworks.com

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