A female gamer competing during a women's e-sport event in Beijing in December last year.. For women e-sports players in China, mastering the game is only the first hurdle to carving out a space for themselves in the male-dominated field. Adek BERRY / AFP
For women e-sports players in China, mastering the game is just the first hurdle to carving out a space for themselves in the male-dominated field.
To compete, casually but especially professionally, they must also overcome vicious trolls, gender norms, familial expectations and limited opportunities.
China has become one of the world's largest markets for e-sports. Its teams participate in the top tier of international competitions, despite state media once dubbing video games "spiritual opium".
E-sports in China generated more than $3.7 billion in revenue in 2024 and attracted 490 million viewers to sell-out tournaments with lucrative prize pools and top players, according to an industry report by the China Audio-Video and Digital Publishing Association.
But more than 90 percent of the 195 professional e-sports clubs in China are exclusively for men, by industry insiders' estimation.
"People wouldn't recognise my skills because I'm a girl," professional e-sports player Liu Anqi, 23, told AFP after a game with her all-women club RE-girls.
"I wanted to prove them wrong and earn the title of 'professional player' so they couldn't say I cheated or wasn't good enough."
Unsolicited, malicious comments follow them everywhere: their skills and strategies belittled, their voices and appearances picked on -- even their choice of character or usernames can make them targets.
"If you make a mistake, they say you don't deserve to play professionally," said Wang Qianna, an e-sports player from Killer Angel Girl E-Sports Club (KA).
Even "Liooon" Li Xiaomeng, the country's most prominent woman e-sports player, was questioned about whether her boyfriend was secretly playing for her.
Women gamers also face misogynistic accusations that they use sex to get promotions.
"I just throw these insults right back at them," Wang said.
The challenges extend beyond online abuse.
Structural but often unspoken inequalities, like a lack of recruitment opportunities for women, make it harder for women players to progress.
Liu said a lower-tier club rejected her for a rookie training programme - despite her clear over-qualification - seemingly because she was a woman.
"They asked me why I only had experience in women's tournaments."
That reluctance by elite and more established clubs to train women has led many to start clubs of their own.
It was like "wanting to punch but finding no target", player Wang Fei said.
"E-sports was basically just for men," said KA coach Chen Bo, adding that official tournaments for women only began to emerge in the past few years.
Although the times are slowly changing, women players still see fewer opportunities and receive less recognition than their male counterparts.
The prize pool for 2024's Honor of Kings Women's Open in December amounted to $140 000.
By comparison, last year's inaugural King Pro League Grand Finals, the most prestigious championship for the same e-sports title, handed out $9.6 million between 12 male teams.
Liu says most women players are still "generating electricity for love" -- meaning they play for passion rather than financial gain.
And with so few examples of prominent players, those who do seek a career in e-sports find it much harder to convince their families that what they do is worthwhile.
"I really understand nothing about this e-sports industry," said Liu's father Liu Yuanjun, who did not support his daughter's career choice at first.
He has slowly come around, but still not watched any of her professional matches.
The financial solution, Liu and coach Chen said, lies in increased investment from big gaming companies and more supportive policies from authorities.
"Only with substantial prize money can clubs invest in top players and coaches," she said.
"If the prize money is only $135 000 or so, and there are only two tournaments a year or... none at all, who will spend the money running a club?" said coach Chen.
On a chilly December evening, Liu and her team battled rivals in the semi-final of last year's Women's Open for "Honor of Kings" - one of the world's biggest mobile games.
Her opponents, the blue team, inched through the last line of defence and the red bar indicating the health of her team's crystal became shorter and shorter until it exploded - game over.
Liu's team lost 3:0, but she was unfazed.
"There will be next year and many other opportunities to come," Liu explained as she processed the defeat.
"What others think doesn't matter as much anymore. Winning a championship isn't as important as before."
"What matters is finding self-validation." - AFP