Created on

1

/

22

/

2026

,

23

:

20

Updated on

1

/

29

/

2026

,

0

:

13

Location

Oakland, CA

Communication Studies(xi): Red Note

传播学(xi): 小红书

写在前面:从实际使用体验和行业观察来看,Instagram 与小红书在内容分发逻辑上,呈现出明显不同的重心。


Instagram 更接近一个以关系与身份为基础的展示型社交网络。你是谁、你与他人的互动关系,往往比你单条内容本身更重要。内容在很大程度上承担的是持续更新个人形象、维持社会存在感的功能。推荐机制确实存在,尤其在 Explore 和 Reels 等入口中不断强化,但在 Feed 和 Stories 这样的核心使用场景里,互动历史、关注关系、身份连续性依然占据重要位置。整体来看,它更像是一个长期节点网络,而不是一个高频试验场,创作者的曝光节奏通常相对平缓,变化更多发生在不同入口之间,而非平台层面的突然放大或清空。

小红书则更明显地围绕“经验可参考性”组织内容与分发。与其说它是一个内容平台,不如说它更像一个以现实决策为核心的经验型传播系统。用户来到这里,往往不是为了被刺激或被取悦,而是为了判断:要不要做某件事、怎么选、值不值、会不会后悔。在这样的使用前提下,内容是否构成一段可被他人借用的经验,往往比表达强度或情绪密度更重要。

如果把小红书简单当成“表达平台”,往往会出现持续用错力的情况。更接近事实的理解是:这里的内容需要在某种程度上呈现判断路径。即便是情绪型内容,真正能够被反复传播和留存的,也通常隐含着具体情境、前提条件和个人解释过程。用户在阅读时,关注的并不只是情绪本身,而是这段经历是否能够帮助他们提前模拟一次判断。如果缺乏这种可迁移性,内容即便短期有曝光,也很难获得持续分发。

从用户行为反馈来看,小红书的分发并不只围绕即时情绪反应展开。停留时间、反复回看、收藏、以及后续在搜索场景中的被点击情况,往往比单纯的点赞更能反映内容是否被“使用”。这些行为信号并不意味着内容一定会迅速放大,但它们更容易指向一种长期价值:内容是否在真实决策场景中发挥作用。

这也解释了一个常见现象:在小红书上,一些内容在推荐阶段的数据并不喧闹,却能够在较长时间内持续被看到。它们的传播路径往往不是一次性扩散,而是逐步进入搜索和对照使用场景,被当作经验样本反复调用。从传播结果看,这类内容的生命周期通常明显长于以情绪刺激为核心的内容。

在这一结构下,作者信用的形成方式也与其他平台不同。小红书并不特别强调人格魅力或故事戏剧性,而更关注一种可预测性:当用户在相似问题下再次看到你时,你是否仍然提供了逻辑一致、条件清楚、不自相矛盾的判断。信用并非一次性建立,而是在多次相似情境中逐渐累积。一旦这种稳定性被识别,账号往往进入一个相对平缓但持续的分发状态,不容易因为单条内容失效而被整体清空。

相应地,夸张标题、情绪极化、制造对立等“强刺激”内容,在小红书上并非完全无效,但它们更难进入长期可调用的传播路径。原因并不在于平台对情绪本身的排斥,而在于这些内容往往难以被用于现实判断:它们缺乏可回溯的前提、条件和后果,也难以在搜索场景中稳定匹配具体问题。一旦脱离当下语境,其使用价值迅速下降,分发也随之减弱。

从整体机制倾向来看,小红书的传播并不是围绕“被看到”展开,而是围绕“被使用”展开。它并不奖励表演本身,也不稳定奖励立场或声量,而更偏向于那些在他人犹豫、比较、决策时,能够提供一块相对可靠判断参照的内容。

换句话说,这个平台最终奖励的不是“让人记住你”,而是“让人在需要判断的时候还能找到你”。

Preface: Based on long-term use and industry observation, Instagram and Xiaohongshu (RED) exhibit markedly different priorities in how content is structured and distributed.


Instagram functions primarily as a display-oriented social network built on relationships and identity continuity. Who you are, and how you are socially embedded, often matters more than any single post. Content serves as an ongoing update of personal presence—maintaining visibility and reinforcing position within others’ mental maps. Recommendation mechanisms do exist, especially through Explore and Reels, but in core usage contexts such as Feed and Stories, interaction history, follower relationships, and identity continuity remain dominant. Overall, Instagram operates more like a long-term relational graph than a high-frequency experimental arena. Exposure tends to change gradually, often shifting between surfaces rather than through abrupt, platform-wide amplification or erasure.

Xiaohongshu, by contrast, is organized far more clearly around experiential referential value. Rather than a conventional “content platform,” it is better understood as an experience-based distribution system centered on real-world decision-making. Users typically come not to be stimulated or entertained, but to decide: whether to do something, how to choose, whether it’s worth it, and what the consequences might be. Within this context, whether a piece of content constitutes a reusable experience matters more than expressive intensity or emotional charge.

When Xiaohongshu is treated merely as a platform for expression, creators often apply force in the wrong direction. A more accurate framing is that content here is expected—implicitly—to present a judgment pathway. Even emotional content that travels far usually contains a concrete situation, specific conditions, and a personal reasoning process. What users attend to is not emotion alone, but whether the experience allows them to simulate a decision in advance. Without this transferability, content may gain short-term exposure but rarely sustains distribution.

Observed user behavior suggests that Xiaohongshu’s distribution logic does not prioritize instantaneous emotional reaction. Signals such as dwell time, repeated viewing, saves, and later clicks from search contexts are often more indicative of whether content is being used. These signals do not necessarily trigger immediate amplification, but they point toward long-term utility—whether the content functions within actual decision scenarios.

This explains a common phenomenon: on Xiaohongshu, some content appears quiet during the recommendation phase yet continues to surface over long periods. Its trajectory is not explosive diffusion but gradual incorporation into search and comparison workflows, where it is repeatedly invoked as a reference sample. From a lifecycle perspective, such content often outlasts emotionally driven posts by a significant margin.

Within this structure, author credibility forms differently as well. Xiaohongshu does not strongly prioritize charisma or narrative drama; instead, it tests predictability. When users encounter you again in similar problem contexts, do you still provide logically consistent, condition-aware, non-contradictory judgments? Credibility is not built in a single instance but accumulates across repeated appearances in comparable situations. Once this stability is recognized, accounts often enter a steady, sustained distribution state that is difficult to erase entirely due to a single underperforming post.

Correspondingly, exaggerated headlines, emotional polarization, and manufactured opposition are not entirely ineffective on Xiaohongshu, but they struggle to enter long-term callable distribution paths. The issue is not emotionality per se, but usability: such content is hard to apply to real decisions. Lacking retraceable premises, conditions, and consequences, it rarely maps cleanly onto search scenarios. Once detached from its original emotional context, its value collapses, and distribution declines accordingly.

From a systemic perspective, Xiaohongshu’s distribution is not optimized around being seen, but around being used. It does not reliably reward performance, stance-taking, or volume. Instead, it favors content that, at moments of hesitation, comparison, and uncertainty, provides a relatively stable surface on which judgment can stand.

In other words, the platform ultimately rewards not content that makes people remember you, but content that people can return to when they need to decide.



Artist Statement

My work is not about explaining the world; it’s about dismantling the emotional structures that everyday life tries to conceal. What I focus on is not “story,” but the dynamics between people—the pull and tension of intimacy, the quiet control embedded in family, the fractures that come with migration, and how an individual maintains their boundaries within these systems.

I grew up between shifting cultures and languages, often in environments where I was expected—needed—claimed by others. I was asked to understand, to accommodate, to take care, to adjust. Even the gentlest relationships carried an undercurrent of consumption. That tension became the foundation of my creative work.

The characters in my stories are not moral types. They each carry a kind of private conflict: they want closeness but fear being swallowed; they long to be seen but can’t fully expose themselves; they are asked again and again to give—to family, to love, to work—without knowing how to keep space for themselves. These aren’t inventions; they’re reflections of lived experience. Writing, for me, is a way to unearth the emotions that have been suppressed, ignored, or normalized—and let them speak again.

I gravitate toward rhythmic narrative structures: compressed scenes, quick shifts, intentional gaps, silences between characters. These spaces reveal more truth than dialogue ever could. The themes I explore—migration, family, identity, trauma, intimacy, female autonomy—ultimately point to a single question: how does a person protect their boundaries in a world that constantly pulls at them, demands from them, watches them?

Creating is neither escape nor self-soothing. It is a way of reclaiming authorship over my own narrative. When I write a character’s silence, resistance, hesitation, or departure, I’m answering one essential question:

When the world insists on defining me, how do I choose to define myself?

艺术家陈述

我的创作不是为了解释世界,是为了拆开被日常掩盖的情绪结构。我关注的核心不是“故事”,而是人与人之间的力量关系——亲密带来的拉扯、家庭带来的隐性控制、身份在迁徙中的断裂,以及一个人在这些结构里如何保持自己的边界。

出生在不断变化的文化与语言之间,长期处在“被期待—被需要—被占用”的环境里。很多时候,我被要求理解别人、照顾别人、顺着环境。那些看似温和的关系里,也潜藏着吞噬性的需求。这种张力成了我创作的源头。

在我的故事里,人物不是善恶分明的类型。他们都带着某种困境:他们想靠近别人,但又害怕被吞没;他们渴望被看见,却无法完全暴露自己;他们在家庭、爱情、工作里不断被要求付出,却不知道怎样为自己保留空间。这并不是虚构,是现实经验的折射。我写作,把那些长期被压抑、被忽略、被习惯化的情感重新挖出来,让它们重新发声。

我倾向于使用节奏性的叙事结构:压缩的篇幅、快速切换的场景、留白的空间、人物之间的静默。这些“空隙”比对白本身更能暴露一个人的真实状态。我处理的主题是移民、家庭、身份、创伤、亲密、女性的自主性,但它们都指向同一件事:一个人如何在被拉扯、被要求、被凝视的世界里,维护自己的边界。

创作不是逃避,也不是自我疗愈,是重新夺回叙事权的方式。当我写下一个人物的沉默、反抗、犹豫或离开,我其实是在回答一个核心问题:
当世界不断定义我时,我选择如何定义自己?

Artist Statement

My work is not about explaining the world; it’s about dismantling the emotional structures that everyday life tries to conceal. What I focus on is not “story,” but the dynamics between people—the pull and tension of intimacy, the quiet control embedded in family, the fractures that come with migration, and how an individual maintains their boundaries within these systems.

I grew up between shifting cultures and languages, often in environments where I was expected—needed—claimed by others. I was asked to understand, to accommodate, to take care, to adjust. Even the gentlest relationships carried an undercurrent of consumption. That tension became the foundation of my creative work.

The characters in my stories are not moral types. They each carry a kind of private conflict: they want closeness but fear being swallowed; they long to be seen but can’t fully expose themselves; they are asked again and again to give—to family, to love, to work—without knowing how to keep space for themselves. These aren’t inventions; they’re reflections of lived experience. Writing, for me, is a way to unearth the emotions that have been suppressed, ignored, or normalized—and let them speak again.

I gravitate toward rhythmic narrative structures: compressed scenes, quick shifts, intentional gaps, silences between characters. These spaces reveal more truth than dialogue ever could. The themes I explore—migration, family, identity, trauma, intimacy, female autonomy—ultimately point to a single question: how does a person protect their boundaries in a world that constantly pulls at them, demands from them, watches them?

Creating is neither escape nor self-soothing. It is a way of reclaiming authorship over my own narrative. When I write a character’s silence, resistance, hesitation, or departure, I’m answering one essential question:

When the world insists on defining me, how do I choose to define myself?

艺术家陈述

我的创作不是为了解释世界,是为了拆开被日常掩盖的情绪结构。我关注的核心不是“故事”,而是人与人之间的力量关系——亲密带来的拉扯、家庭带来的隐性控制、身份在迁徙中的断裂,以及一个人在这些结构里如何保持自己的边界。

出生在不断变化的文化与语言之间,长期处在“被期待—被需要—被占用”的环境里。很多时候,我被要求理解别人、照顾别人、顺着环境。那些看似温和的关系里,也潜藏着吞噬性的需求。这种张力成了我创作的源头。

在我的故事里,人物不是善恶分明的类型。他们都带着某种困境:他们想靠近别人,但又害怕被吞没;他们渴望被看见,却无法完全暴露自己;他们在家庭、爱情、工作里不断被要求付出,却不知道怎样为自己保留空间。这并不是虚构,是现实经验的折射。我写作,把那些长期被压抑、被忽略、被习惯化的情感重新挖出来,让它们重新发声。

我倾向于使用节奏性的叙事结构:压缩的篇幅、快速切换的场景、留白的空间、人物之间的静默。这些“空隙”比对白本身更能暴露一个人的真实状态。我处理的主题是移民、家庭、身份、创伤、亲密、女性的自主性,但它们都指向同一件事:一个人如何在被拉扯、被要求、被凝视的世界里,维护自己的边界。

创作不是逃避,也不是自我疗愈,是重新夺回叙事权的方式。当我写下一个人物的沉默、反抗、犹豫或离开,我其实是在回答一个核心问题:
当世界不断定义我时,我选择如何定义自己?

Artist Statement

My work is not about explaining the world; it’s about dismantling the emotional structures that everyday life tries to conceal. What I focus on is not “story,” but the dynamics between people—the pull and tension of intimacy, the quiet control embedded in family, the fractures that come with migration, and how an individual maintains their boundaries within these systems.

I grew up between shifting cultures and languages, often in environments where I was expected—needed—claimed by others. I was asked to understand, to accommodate, to take care, to adjust. Even the gentlest relationships carried an undercurrent of consumption. That tension became the foundation of my creative work.

The characters in my stories are not moral types. They each carry a kind of private conflict: they want closeness but fear being swallowed; they long to be seen but can’t fully expose themselves; they are asked again and again to give—to family, to love, to work—without knowing how to keep space for themselves. These aren’t inventions; they’re reflections of lived experience. Writing, for me, is a way to unearth the emotions that have been suppressed, ignored, or normalized—and let them speak again.

I gravitate toward rhythmic narrative structures: compressed scenes, quick shifts, intentional gaps, silences between characters. These spaces reveal more truth than dialogue ever could. The themes I explore—migration, family, identity, trauma, intimacy, female autonomy—ultimately point to a single question: how does a person protect their boundaries in a world that constantly pulls at them, demands from them, watches them?

Creating is neither escape nor self-soothing. It is a way of reclaiming authorship over my own narrative. When I write a character’s silence, resistance, hesitation, or departure, I’m answering one essential question:

When the world insists on defining me, how do I choose to define myself?

艺术家陈述

我的创作不是为了解释世界,是为了拆开被日常掩盖的情绪结构。我关注的核心不是“故事”,而是人与人之间的力量关系——亲密带来的拉扯、家庭带来的隐性控制、身份在迁徙中的断裂,以及一个人在这些结构里如何保持自己的边界。

出生在不断变化的文化与语言之间,长期处在“被期待—被需要—被占用”的环境里。很多时候,我被要求理解别人、照顾别人、顺着环境。那些看似温和的关系里,也潜藏着吞噬性的需求。这种张力成了我创作的源头。

在我的故事里,人物不是善恶分明的类型。他们都带着某种困境:他们想靠近别人,但又害怕被吞没;他们渴望被看见,却无法完全暴露自己;他们在家庭、爱情、工作里不断被要求付出,却不知道怎样为自己保留空间。这并不是虚构,是现实经验的折射。我写作,把那些长期被压抑、被忽略、被习惯化的情感重新挖出来,让它们重新发声。

我倾向于使用节奏性的叙事结构:压缩的篇幅、快速切换的场景、留白的空间、人物之间的静默。这些“空隙”比对白本身更能暴露一个人的真实状态。我处理的主题是移民、家庭、身份、创伤、亲密、女性的自主性,但它们都指向同一件事:一个人如何在被拉扯、被要求、被凝视的世界里,维护自己的边界。

创作不是逃避,也不是自我疗愈,是重新夺回叙事权的方式。当我写下一个人物的沉默、反抗、犹豫或离开,我其实是在回答一个核心问题:
当世界不断定义我时,我选择如何定义自己?

sunny.xiaoxin.sun@doubletakefilmllc.com

Sunny Xiaoxin Sun's IMDb


©2025 Double Take Film, All rights reserved

I’m an independent creator born in 1993 in Changsha, now based in California. My writing started from an urgent need to express. Back in school, I often felt overwhelmed by the chaos and complexity of the world—by the emotions and stories left unsaid. Writing became my way of organizing my thoughts, finding clarity, and gradually, connecting with the outside world.


Right now, I’m focused on writing and filmmaking. My blog is a “real writing experiment,” where I try to update daily, documenting my thoughts, emotional shifts, observations on relationships, and my creative process. It’s also a record of my journey to becoming a director. After returning to China in 2016, I entered the film industry and worked in the visual effects production department on projects like Creation of the Gods I, Creation of the Gods II, and Wakanda Forever, with experience in both China and Hollywood. Since 2024, I’ve shifted my focus to original storytelling.


I’m currently revising my first script. It’s not grand in scale, but it’s deeply personal—centered on memory, my father, and the city. I want to make films that belong to me, and to our generation: grounded yet profound, sensitive but resolute. I believe film is not only a form of artistic expression—it’s a way to intervene in reality.

我是93年出生于长沙的自由创作者。我的写作起点来自一种“必须表达”的冲动。学生时代,我常感受到世界的混乱与复杂,那些没有被说出来的情绪和故事让我感到不安。写作是我自我整理、自我清晰的方式,也逐渐成为我与外界建立连接的路径。


我目前专注于写作和电影。我的博客是一个“真实写作实验”,尽量每天更新,记录我的思考、情绪流动、人际观察和创作过程。我16年回国之后开始进入电影行业,曾在视效部门以制片的身份参与制作《封神1》《封神2》《Wankanda Forever》等,在中国和好莱坞都工作过,24年之后开始转入创作。


我正在重新回去修改我第一个剧本——它并不宏大,却非常个人,围绕记忆、父亲与城市展开。我想拍属于我、也属于我们这一代人的电影:贴地而深刻,敏感又笃定。我相信电影不只是艺术表达,它也是一种现实干预。

sunny.xiaoxin.sun@doubletakefilmllc.com

Sunny Xiaoxin Sun's IMDb


©2025 Double Take Film, All rights reserved

I’m an independent creator born in 1993 in Changsha, now based in California. My writing started from an urgent need to express. Back in school, I often felt overwhelmed by the chaos and complexity of the world—by the emotions and stories left unsaid. Writing became my way of organizing my thoughts, finding clarity, and gradually, connecting with the outside world.


Right now, I’m focused on writing and filmmaking. My blog is a “real writing experiment,” where I try to update daily, documenting my thoughts, emotional shifts, observations on relationships, and my creative process. It’s also a record of my journey to becoming a director. After returning to China in 2016, I entered the film industry and worked in the visual effects production department on projects like Creation of the Gods I, Creation of the Gods II, and Wakanda Forever, with experience in both China and Hollywood. Since 2024, I’ve shifted my focus to original storytelling.


I’m currently revising my first script. It’s not grand in scale, but it’s deeply personal—centered on memory, my father, and the city. I want to make films that belong to me, and to our generation: grounded yet profound, sensitive but resolute. I believe film is not only a form of artistic expression—it’s a way to intervene in reality.

我是93年出生于长沙的自由创作者。我的写作起点来自一种“必须表达”的冲动。学生时代,我常感受到世界的混乱与复杂,那些没有被说出来的情绪和故事让我感到不安。写作是我自我整理、自我清晰的方式,也逐渐成为我与外界建立连接的路径。


我目前专注于写作和电影。我的博客是一个“真实写作实验”,尽量每天更新,记录我的思考、情绪流动、人际观察和创作过程。我16年回国之后开始进入电影行业,曾在视效部门以制片的身份参与制作《封神1》《封神2》《Wankanda Forever》等,在中国和好莱坞都工作过,24年之后开始转入创作。


我正在重新回去修改我第一个剧本——它并不宏大,却非常个人,围绕记忆、父亲与城市展开。我想拍属于我、也属于我们这一代人的电影:贴地而深刻,敏感又笃定。我相信电影不只是艺术表达,它也是一种现实干预。

sunny.xiaoxin.sun@doubletakefilmllc.com

Sunny Xiaoxin Sun's IMDb


©2025 Double Take Film, All rights reserved

I’m an independent creator born in 1993 in Changsha, now based in California. My writing started from an urgent need to express. Back in school, I often felt overwhelmed by the chaos and complexity of the world—by the emotions and stories left unsaid. Writing became my way of organizing my thoughts, finding clarity, and gradually, connecting with the outside world.


Right now, I’m focused on writing and filmmaking. My blog is a “real writing experiment,” where I try to update daily, documenting my thoughts, emotional shifts, observations on relationships, and my creative process. It’s also a record of my journey to becoming a director. After returning to China in 2016, I entered the film industry and worked in the visual effects production department on projects like Creation of the Gods I, Creation of the Gods II, and Wakanda Forever, with experience in both China and Hollywood. Since 2024, I’ve shifted my focus to original storytelling.


I’m currently revising my first script. It’s not grand in scale, but it’s deeply personal—centered on memory, my father, and the city. I want to make films that belong to me, and to our generation: grounded yet profound, sensitive but resolute. I believe film is not only a form of artistic expression—it’s a way to intervene in reality.

我是93年出生于长沙的自由创作者。我的写作起点来自一种“必须表达”的冲动。学生时代,我常感受到世界的混乱与复杂,那些没有被说出来的情绪和故事让我感到不安。写作是我自我整理、自我清晰的方式,也逐渐成为我与外界建立连接的路径。


我目前专注于写作和电影。我的博客是一个“真实写作实验”,尽量每天更新,记录我的思考、情绪流动、人际观察和创作过程。我16年回国之后开始进入电影行业,曾在视效部门以制片的身份参与制作《封神1》《封神2》《Wankanda Forever》等,在中国和好莱坞都工作过,24年之后开始转入创作。


我正在重新回去修改我第一个剧本——它并不宏大,却非常个人,围绕记忆、父亲与城市展开。我想拍属于我、也属于我们这一代人的电影:贴地而深刻,敏感又笃定。我相信电影不只是艺术表达,它也是一种现实干预。

PRODUCT

Design

Content

Publish

RESOURCES

Blog

Careers

Docs

About