You’re scrolling through Douyin or Little Red Book (Xiaohongshu) and you keep seeing people talk about their "shrimp" or "little mineral water." It sounds like a grocery list. It’s not. In the world of Chinese digital subculture, directness is often swapped for clever, linguistic gymnastics. Using code names for crushes Chinese netizens have invented isn't just about being "cutesy." It’s a survival tactic in a digital world where everyone is watching, and sometimes, the thrill of a secret is better than the confession itself.
The Chinese language is a playground for puns. Because of the way Mandarin uses tones and homophones—words that sound the same but have different meanings—you can say one thing and mean something entirely different. This has birthed a massive library of secret slang that keeps parents, teachers, and even the crushes themselves totally in the dark.
The Linguistic Magic Behind the Secrecy
Why do we do this? Honestly, it’s mostly about "mianzi" or face. If you post about a guy you like using his real name and he rejects you, the digital footprint of that embarrassment is permanent. But if you call him "Salt," and things go south? Nobody knows. You just stop buying salt.
Many of these code names for crushes Chinese users prefer are based on xieyin (homophones). For example, the number sequence "520" sounds like wo ai ni (I love you). That’s entry-level stuff. The deeper you go, the more it feels like a high-stakes spy mission. You’ve got people referencing specific fruits because the fruit's name in a local dialect sounds like "heartbeat" or "first love."
Take the word Pingguo (apple). In some niche circles, it’s not just a snack. It represents the "apple of my eye" but with a localized twist. Then you have the more modern, abstract ones. Have you ever heard someone call their crush "The 4th Floor"? It might just be because that’s where his locker is, or it might be a play on the word for "death" (si)—meaning they are "dead" from his beauty. Dark? Maybe. Effective? Definitely.
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The Most Common Code Names You’ll Actually See
If you’re trying to decode a friend’s post or find a name for your own secret "someone," you have to understand the categories. They aren't organized. They’re chaotic.
The Foodies
Food-based names are massive. Tang (Sugar) is an obvious one for someone sweet. But then there’s Suan Ni (Garlic). Why garlic? Because in some contexts, it’s a play on "calculating you" or "thinking of you." It sounds weird until you realize how many hours people spend staring at their phone screens waiting for a reply.
Xianyu (Salted Fish) is usually a self-deprecating term for someone with no ambitions, but in the world of crushes, calling someone your "Little Salt" usually refers to the "Salt Style" (yanshi) aesthetic—clean, sharp, and slightly cool. It’s a specific look, popularized by actors like Sakaguchi Kentaro, and it’s a major vibe in Chinese fashion circles right now.
The Weather and Nature
Taiyang (Sun) is for the "warm" guy or girl—the nuannan. They are the ones who bring you a jacket or remember your favorite bubble tea order. On the flip side, you have Ying (Shadow). This is the crush you follow from a distance, the one who doesn't even know you exist. It’s a bit more melancholic.
Why We Use Code Names Instead of Real Names
Privacy is a big deal, but it’s also about community. When you use a specific code name for crushes Chinese speakers recognize, you’re signaling that you belong to a certain subculture. You’re "in the know."
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According to sociologists studying Chinese digital youth culture, this type of "cryptophasia" (secret language) builds stronger bonds within peer groups. It’s a way to discuss intimacy in a society that is still, in many ways, quite conservative about public displays of affection. It’s a digital whisper.
Think about the "Brother" or "Sister" labels. In China, calling someone Gege or Meimei is a minefield. It can be totally platonic, or it can be the highest form of flirting. By using a code name, you bypass the social baggage of these titles. You create a third space where the crush exists purely in your imagination and the small circle of friends you trust with the "key" to the code.
The Rise of "Little" (Xiao) Names
The prefix Xiao (Little) is the Swiss Army knife of Chinese nicknames. Xiao Lu (Little Deer) is a classic. It refers to the phrase lu lu luan zhuang, which describes the "deer jumping in your chest" when you’re nervous. If someone says, "The Little Deer is acting up today," they aren’t talking about a pet. They’re having a panic attack because their crush just walked into the room.
Then you have the more obscure ones like Xiao Kuangquan (Little Mineral Water). This sounds completely random. It’s actually a dig at someone who is "pure" or "basic" but in a refreshing way. It’s for the crush who doesn't wear flashy clothes and just has that "clean" look that is currently dominating the Xiaohongshu search results.
How to Create Your Own Code Name
If you want to dive into this, don't just pick a random word. It has to have a logic, even if that logic only makes sense to you.
- Use the "Time and Place" Rule: Where did you first see them? If it was at a library at 3:00 PM, maybe their code name is San Dian (Three O'Clock).
- The "Reverse Homophone": Take their real surname and find a word that sounds similar but is completely unrelated. If their name is Li, you could call them Lizhi (Lychee). It’s sweet, it’s a bit hard to get into, but rewarding.
- The "Object of Association": Do they always carry a specific brand of notebook? Do they wear a certain color? If they always wear a blue hoodie, they’re Lan (Blue). Simple, but effective for keeping your diary entries secret.
The Cultural Impact of These Secret Labels
It’s not just kids doing this. Professionals, college students, and even celebrities use these linguistic cloaks. It’s a testament to the flexibility of the Chinese language. It shows a high level of emotional intelligence—being able to communicate complex feelings through the lens of everyday objects.
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But there’s a downside. Sometimes, we get so caught up in the code that we forget to actually talk to the person. You spend six months calling someone "The Blue Umbrella" in your notes, and you never actually ask them if they want to grab a coffee. The code becomes a shield. It’s comfortable. It’s safe. But it’s also a barrier.
The digital landscape in 2026 is even more saturated with these terms. AI algorithms on platforms like Douyin now actually recognize some of these code names and will serve you content related to "crush culture" even if you never use the word "love." The machine is learning our secrets.
Moving Beyond the Code
So, you’ve got your code names for crushes Chinese style. You’re successfully hiding your feelings from the prying eyes of the internet. What now?
The goal of a code name should be to provide a temporary bridge, not a permanent wall. Use it to vent to your friends. Use it to write down your feelings. But eventually, the code has to be broken. Real connection happens in the clear, not in the cryptic.
Actionable Next Steps:
- Audit your "Digital Diary": If you’ve been using a code name for more than six months, it’s time to evaluate if you’re using it as a creative outlet or an emotional crutch to avoid rejection.
- Check the "Double Meaning": Before adopting a new code name you saw online, double-check its meaning on a site like Baidu or a slang dictionary. Some words have regional meanings that might be offensive or unintentionally hilarious in different provinces.
- Test the Waters: Try using a very subtle version of the code name in a conversation with the person. If you call them "Little Salt" and they recognize the aesthetic reference, you’ve just found a shared interest. If they look at you like you’re crazy, well, at least you didn't use their real name.
- Keep it Private: The moment a code name becomes too popular (like Xianrou or "Little Fresh Meat"), it loses its power. If you want a real secret, you have to invent something that doesn't appear in a Google search. Use inside jokes that only you and one other person understand. That is the ultimate code.