Note: The first half of this article is entertainment; the second half is practical guidance. Feel free to skip straight to the latter if that’s what you’re after.
The more people you encounter in life, the deeper your understanding of human nature grows. And the more overseas Chinese you meet, the clearer your picture of that particular community becomes.
Take, for example, a question many people find puzzling: why do some overseas Chinese, upon returning to China, carry themselves with such arrogance and condescension? Middle-class immigrant Chinese especially.
Spend enough time around this group and the answer becomes obvious. For the vast majority of people in this world, life passes by unremarkably — no great highs, no glaring failures. Some middle-class individuals may have decent educational backgrounds, reasonable material comfort, and respectable careers.
But none of that is enough to make them stand out. To outsiders, they’re simply… presentable. Nothing more.
Now imagine that, for whatever reason, such a person obtains foreign citizenship. What do you suppose their mindset becomes?
It’s not hard to guess: any chance they get, they’ll flaunt it. Because deep down, they know that in the entire arc of their life, nothing will ever surpass this one credential as something worth showing off.
And yet, waving it around constantly doesn’t quite work either — it looks unsophisticated, and in front of genuinely wealthy families it comes across as deeply small-minded. So they bide their time, waiting for the right moment to perform.
This explains people like the recently newsworthy Mr. Liang, and the many other foreign-passport-holding ethnic Chinese whose true colors emerged during the pandemic.
They all seemed cut from the same cloth, running the same script: “I’m a foreign national — you can’t govern me by domestic rules.”
Do they not know the law applies equally to everyone? Of course they know. They’re not stupid. But shouting that line in the middle of an argument feels good. That’s the whole point.
Observe carefully, and you’ll notice: these confrontations are almost always with middle-class overseas Chinese. Truly wealthy families understand the wisdom of keeping a low profile and the value of humility. And crucially — they don’t feel their spine stiffen just because they hold a foreign passport.
In fact, if you move in wider circles, you’ll find that the phenomenon Master Chi is describing is everywhere.
A side note: in Master Chi’s experience, the most aggressive posturers I’ve ever encountered have consistently come from overseas Chinese social circles.
Master Chi himself enjoys a bit of posturing — who doesn’t care about face? That’s human nature. But the posturing in overseas Chinese circles — pay close attention — especially in middle-class overseas Chinese circles — is truly something to behold. Overwhelming. Unstoppable.
Someone from a clearly ordinary household will brag about having powerful political connections back home — a relative holding some senior official rank. Another claims to have once dominated the business world in China.
It’s as if moving abroad gave them a blank slate, as if the people in their new country never travel to China or compare notes with anyone. Pulling off bragging like that truly takes a special kind of talent.
Then they return to China and flip the script entirely — raving about how the air abroad smells sweeter, how the social welfare system is so much better, and so on. Whatever gets the most reaction.
I remember a summer two years ago. To clear my head, my wife and I checked into a newly opened hotel in Shanghai. Walking through the lobby, I came across a middle-aged woman speaking English with a thick accent, holding court about her life abroad with unmistakable self-importance.
More notably, she kept referring to herself as a “foreigner.” The line that stuck with me most: “Aiya, Chinese people’s quality has always been very problematic! Australia is so much better. Really — everyone has a smile on their face!”
Yes, you read that correctly, and Master Chi typed it correctly — she said “Ao Si Da Li Ya.” That’s how she pronounced “Australia.” Master Chi also enjoys putting on airs — who doesn’t care about appearances? Perfectly normal. But at the very least, get the pronunciation right, would you?
What can you really say about a person like that? Bluntly: selfish, narrow-minded, and deeply insecure. Give her any opening and she will not waste a single opportunity to perform.
But she can’t actually flaunt wealth — she knows she doesn’t have the standing for it. Back in China, there are countless people with far more money and power. She can’t compete on achievement either — she’s likely a middle manager at some international company, walking on eggshells even in her own office.
And so, at last, a foreign passport became her greatest source of courage — enough to let her stand there, flushed and emboldened, declaring: “I need to go jogging! That is my freedom! In our Australia, nobody manages us — very casual!”
The subtext is transparent: first, I’m a foreign national so I deserve special treatment; second, I’m simply a cut above you and you can’t touch me; third, saying this out loud just feels so good.
Don’t believe me? Look at the pattern across these self-styled fake foreigners throughout history — regardless of background or style of argument, it’s always the same playbook. One wonders which master taught them all the same tricks.
It’s undeniable that as China’s national power continues to grow, the mindset of many overseas Chinese has shifted dramatically.
This is especially true of the post-2008 wave of immigrants — people who chose to leave after China had already become strong. This group tends to be genuinely patriotic, and more rational about it. Their reasons for switching citizenship are typically specific: not “this country is bad,” but “for certain reasons, this other place suits me better.”
Some people are simply destined to journey far from home — in BaZi (Four Pillars of Destiny), their migration palace outshines their birthplace palace. To seek their own future, to see another part of the world — why not? It’s like a young person from a small town heading to a big city to build a life. We don’t accuse them of betraying their hometown, do we?
So Master Chi does not support using a few bad examples as reason to reject the entire overseas Chinese community.
People’s free choices deserve respect — theirs, mine, and yours.
That said — during this pandemic, we also witnessed the efforts and contributions of countless overseas Chinese, including students abroad, who remained devoted to their homeland: donations, fundraising, procuring medical supplies and equipment of all kinds.
All of that was admirable. Truly worthy of recognition and praise.
But Master Chi hopes every one of us understands: no matter what success or glory the future brings you, please never stoop to elevating yourself by betraying or belittling the land that raised you.
Believe me — a handful of small-minded people may applaud you for it. But those with real power and real substance will look down on you for it, and shut you out. Why? Because some forms of love aren’t about logic. They’re about moral integrity and responsibility.
And that is what reveals a person’s true character and capacity.
Finally, let’s talk about how overseas Chinese circles actually work, and how they’re structured.
Overseas Chinese communities are genuinely fascinating — and quite different from social circles within China. Inside China, the sheer scale of cities and social networks means the boundaries between circles and classes are both wide and blurry.
You can see some elite circles if you stand on your tiptoes — they’re visible. You just can’t get in. Like a mountain path where you can see the summit but can’t climb there or make contact.
Overseas, it’s different. Because Chinese naturally form tight communities, the boundaries between social tiers are far sharper. Getting into a higher circle is still difficult — but at least the target and the path are clear.
For instance, if you’re on the rise and want to play with serious resources, London is the primary hub — that’s where most of the mainland business heavyweights operating physical enterprises are centered. One exception: infrastructure — that crowd is almost entirely in Singapore. For the truly top-tier players, don’t look anywhere else — it’s Vancouver and Los Angeles, full stop.
New York, Sydney — they have their own circles too. Get in with the right people there, have them acknowledge you with a wave of the hand, and it is genuinely transformative. That is not an exaggeration by a single word.
But the prerequisite is that you yourself have the goods. Two kinds of talent matter: your actual ability, and a sharp enough instinct to judge whether a given situation is a threat or an opportunity.
I won’t go further into the specifics — it gets into sensitive territory and serves no purpose here.
What you’ll discover over time is this: why do people on the rise — almost without exception — start going abroad for a few months every two or three years in their late thirties and forties, and return each time having stepped up another level?
Much of what domestic business schools claim to offer has long since stopped being deliverable. Or put differently — everyone at that tier already knows each other. They’re bumping elbows at the same events. There’s no real elevation left.
Real noble benefactors (Gui Ren). Real fortune luck cycles. They’re found elsewhere.
To sum it up: overseas, your social circle matters far more than it does back home. A good overseas Chinese circle can achieve a high concentration of resource and network sharing — and will genuinely create opportunities for you to rise.
Many of these arrangements are set up by semi-retired veterans who structure the resources and deals, then hand them to ambitious young people to execute — and those young people use that foundation to build their wealth.
Why not use their own children? For one, these veterans want to quietly fade into the background. For another, their children may have no interest in business or the rough-and-tumble world — perfectly content to enjoy what they’ve inherited.
And a bad overseas Chinese circle? It will absolutely pull you into a comfortable rut, let you sink into a life of leisure, and watch your time evaporate at remarkable speed. Of course, that’s also a valid way to live. It’s a lifestyle, after all.