How Chengdu is Turning Viral Cultural Hits into Sustainable Industries

I still remember the first time I heard about Ne Zha 2. It wasn’t just a casual mention of a movie—it was everywhere. Social feeds, news headlines, even conversations at local cafés kept circling back to the same point: how a single animated film had put Chengdu squarely in the spotlight of China’s cultural innovation boom.
At first glance, it looked like just another blockbuster. But as someone who’s spent time working with creative entrepreneurs here, I can tell you there was something different happening behind the scenes. The buzz wasn’t accidental. It was the product of a city that has spent years carefully laying the groundwork for exactly this kind of breakthrough—and then figuring out how to make it repeatable.
Earlier this year, I had the chance to attend the “Cultural Creativity Tianfu: Glorious Future” Innovation Conference. The event was packed with designers, animators, tech founders, and investors, all talking about the same question: How do you move from a lucky hit to an industry that can sustain itself?
The strategy on display was as ambitious as it was pragmatic. Chengdu isn’t trying to create a single viral IP; it’s trying to build an entire ecosystem that reliably produces them. One clear example was the way the conference emphasized creating “innovation scenarios.” Essentially, the city has set up pilot zones where new ideas can be tested quickly. Startups can get early feedback, showcase prototypes, and scale production faster.
For me, the most striking thing was how personal it all felt. During a job fair held in the Tianfu Changdao Digital Creative Park, I watched dozens of young graduates lining up at booths, resumes in hand, eager to work on the next big project. One candidate asked a recruiter point-blank, “Is this where Ne Zha 2 was made?” It sounds almost naïve, but there was something inspiring about it. Here was proof that a single success story could reshape how an entire generation thinks about their careers.
That enthusiasm isn’t just anecdotal. According to the 2024 China Urban Talent Attraction Rankings, Chengdu now ranks sixth nationwide, just behind Beijing, Shanghai, Shenzhen, Guangzhou, and Hangzhou. With over 10,000 animation professionals and 220,000 related students, there’s a huge reservoir of creative talent ready to be tapped.
But talent alone isn’t enough. What really sets Chengdu apart is the physical clustering of companies. When I walked around the creative park, it felt more like a vibrant neighborhood than a sterile business district. Small studios, visual effects firms, and scriptwriting teams are literally steps away from each other. People joke that here, “you can pass a hard drive across the hallway,” but it’s no exaggeration. That kind of proximity turns collaboration into something almost frictionless.
One executive I spoke with put it simply: “Physical closeness saves time. And time is everything in this business.” By reducing the distance between concept and production, Chengdu has essentially hacked the innovation process.
Beyond the micro-level interactions, there’s also a clear commitment to global collaboration. Take the Panda Cultural Creative Competition as an example. This isn’t just a local show-and-tell. Participants come from the US, Japan, Germany, France, and several other countries. The judging panel includes Hollywood directors and European festival founders. Even the winning entries feel international. You see influences from science fiction, European illustration styles, and Asian pop culture all blending together.
What impressed me most was how Chengdu doesn’t just chase short-term gains. Sure, Ne Zha 2 was a box office sensation, but the city’s leaders know that hits fade fast if you don’t have a sustainable pipeline. That’s why they’ve made long-term investments in education, infrastructure, and policies that lower the barrier to entry for creative startups.
During the conference, officials announced 76 new pilot scenarios where emerging technologies like holographic projection, virtual reality, and AIGC (AI-generated content) could be applied in cultural production. For entrepreneurs, it’s an open invitation to experiment and commercialize ideas without the usual bureaucratic friction.
The results are showing up in hard numbers. In 2017, Chengdu’s cultural and creative industries contributed about 5.7% to the city’s GDP. By 2024, that figure had climbed to over 12%. This isn’t just economic growth—it’s proof that an entire ecosystem can mature in less than a decade.
Yet for all the impressive data and ambitious policies, what struck me most about Chengdu was something less quantifiable: the atmosphere. This city balances intensity with a kind of relaxed openness that you rarely see in other innovation hubs.
After long meetings or studio visits, I often wandered the redeveloped historic districts or the endless greenways that crisscross the city. Chengdu’s rhythm is unique—it allows for both hard sprints and slow reflection. For creative work, that balance is critical. You need space to pause, observe, and let ideas ferment.
One animation director I met said it best: “In Chengdu, you feel like you have permission to think.” That’s not a small thing. Creativity can’t be forced on a tight schedule. Sometimes, the best ideas emerge when you have time to breathe.
When you add it all up—a rich cultural heritage, supportive policies, global openness, and an environment that respects the creative process—it’s clear Chengdu is no longer just hoping for the next viral hit. It’s building the systems to ensure that hits keep coming.
For anyone watching the evolution of China’s digital cultural industries, Chengdu is proof that with the right mindset, what starts as an accident of timing can become a lasting engine of growth. And maybe, just maybe, the best chapters of this story are still ahead.



