Yao Chen Interview: Meet China’s Answer to Angelina Jolie
How did a nice middle-class actress conquer Weibo, China’s answer to Twitter, and turn herself into one of the most influential figures in the world?
文/萨拉•金利赛德 译/肖博文 魏家海
By Sarah Keenlyside
“Is it like having a superpower?” I ask the actress Yao Chen as she raises her coffee cup to her lips. She breaks into a broad smile as her translator explains my meaning. “I’m getting more mature,” she says, avoiding the question. “These days I am much more careful and cautious.”
 One could add the word “modest” to that list, because Yao, self-effacing as she is, has more followers on Weibo (China’s version of Twitter) than the population of Britain. And when five per cent of the population of one of the world’s most powerful countries is hanging on your every word, you have a lot of influence, no matter how cautious you are.
 In fact, so great is that influence, she has the ability to change the course of people’s lives with a click of her mouse. Stories abound of children’s operations that were paid for by donations from her Weibo followers, of old ladies who put their entire savings into causes she supports—even of a condemned man who was suddenly hailed as a hero because of her impassioned online defence of his character (he was a friend of her father’s).
 So how did a 34-year-old from a small coastal city in south-east China rise from obscurity to become one of Time magazine’s 100 most powerful people on the planet? And, more to the point, why have we never heard of her?
 Unlike her compatriots Gong Li, Jackie Chan and Fan Bing Bing, Yao has never made a Hollywood film and speaks almost no English.
 “Of course if the right script came along I would love to do a Hollywood film,” she says when we meet in a bustling café on the east side of Beijing. She’s also a fan of British cinema, and becomes giggly at the mention of Benedict Cumberbatch, an actor she admires. “For now, though, I would just be happy if my current body of work in China got some recognition overseas.”
 After studying at the prestigious Beijing Film Academy, she scored a role in a martial-arts sitcom, My Own Swordsman. What followed was a mixture of romantic comedies and action films, with Yao often cast as the girl next door. One of her most popular—Color Me Love (2010)—sees her play the lead in a Devil Wears Prada-ish tale of a girl moving to the big city to work for a hard-boiled magazine editor.
 It’s hard to imagine anyone else fitting the role so perfectly, not least because she cuts such an accessible figure both on screen and off. Evidently comfortable in her own skin, she arrives for our interview completely make-up free, her hair drawn back into a simple ponytail, wearing a white T-shirt tucked into a black leather skirt, and brogues.
 Yao doesn’t have a “look-at-me” beauty – nor is she classically beautiful by Chinese standards – but her appeal is obvious. The first things you notice are her striking, Cara Delevingne-esque eyebrows, which arch above enormous, almond-shaped eyes.
 The next thing you notice is her heart-shaped face, tapering to her wide mouth.
 Her beauty might best be described as extraterrestrial. “She’s certainly not your cookie-cutter leading lady,” says Alexi Tan, who directed her in Color Me Love. “I think people like her so much because she’s always herself. She doesn’t put on a persona.”
 Does Yao agree that it’s her down-to-earth nature that has endeared her to so many? “Well, I’m a middle-class girl,” she says. “So I’m more suited to leading a normal life. What’s familiar to me makes me feel safe.” Which of course would make perfect sense, if it weren’t for the fact that so many stars don’t manage to retain such levels of normality.
 The only child of a train driver and a postal worker, she says that her father was “a very humble person” who had a great influence on her. “I would always overhear him and my mum discussing how they could help others,” she says. “Because he worked on the railway, his friends assumed he could get them tickets for their Chinese New Year train journeys home before everyone else. In fact, he couldn’t, but he didn’t want to let them all down, so he’d wake up at the crack of dawn and queue up with everyone else.”
 “For me one of life’s great joys is still being able to go out and buy my own food,” she continues. “I bargain for vegetables in the market, spend time with my family, cook for them. I’m very lucky.”
 I’m not sure luck comes into it, I say. There are plenty of stars who wouldn’t want to continue with such a mundane life once they’d made their millions. “Yes,” she acknowledges. “Of course, this is every individual’s personal choice.”
 Modesty always goes down well in China, where the showiness of the nouveau riche has become reviled. So it’s no surprise that the unassuming Yao has become a national heroine. It’s also perhaps no surprise that four years ago she was approached by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) to be its Goodwill Ambassador in China, à la Angelina Jolie (who Yao says was one of the reasons she was inspired to accept the role).
 Yao is obviously passionate about her work for the agency. When she talks about her visits to countries such as Ethiopia and Lebanon, she speaks with the directness and fervour of someone who has witnessed suffering first-hand, not just put their name to a charity for the kudos it brings.
 This hasn’t gone unnoticed by her fellow countrymen, who regularly criticise actors for what they perceive to be a more cynical championing of charities. Yao says that she enjoys her trips with the UNHCR, and has learnt much from the collaboration, sharing stories and online diaries after every trip.
 “So I feel a big responsibility to tell others what I have seen.” The results speak for themselves: the UNHCR saw the number of donations from mainland China triple between 2012 and 2013.
 Yao is proud of one success story in particular, and relates it with great gusto. “After I posted my Africa diary I heard from the UNHCR office in Beijing that there was an elderly woman who kept visiting again and again,” she says. “On one occasion she came in to donate 800 renminbi [about £80]. She said she’d read my diary and realised that there were people who needed it more than she did.
 The touching part is that every time she came to the office she would take the bus. One day they asked her where she lived and she said she was way out in the suburbs, so they asked her why she wasn’t taking the subway. Her reply was that the 2RMB (20p) fare was too expensive, so 800RMB must have been all her savings.
 “Sometimes I feel like I really can’t change enough,” she concludes. “I can become quite depressed about it all. But then this kind of story gives me the encouragement to carry on.”
 So what’s next for Yao Chen? Rom-com queen, social-media queen… fashion queen?
 Her model-like frame does lend itself well to being photographed, and she already has collaborations with Chanel, Adidas and Lanvin under her belt.
 For now, though, she is happy just to have time to spend with her son, known affectionately as Xiao Tudou (“little potato”), before her next project. “I’m happiest when I’m cooking and have the chance to stay in with my husband,” she says. “He loves to play with his cameras and of course we love spending time with the baby. Even though he’s so young we can really understand each other. God is really the greatest creator.” ■