Trapped in a Digital 'Parallel World': My Belated Decoupling

Last week, my family finally settled the most important matter on our minds recently: our Business Manager Visa renewal in Japan was successfully approved.

This was our first renewal since Japan introduced new, stricter rules for the Business Manager Visa last October. The paperwork has multiplied, and the review process has dragged on longer. Recently, we’ve heard our fair share of bad news—applications rejected, three-year visas slashed to one year, and one-year visas reduced to a mere four months.

These stories made us tense. To say we weren't anxious would be a lie.

The Long Wait and a Clear Answer

Here is how the timeline unfolded:

• Jan 13: I gathered all our documents and submitted the renewal application in person at the Osaka Regional Immigration Bureau.
• Around Jan 20: I received a letter requesting additional tax documents. I spent the next day running around to gather and mail them. Then, the long wait resumed.
• Feb 9: The official postcard finally arrived.
• Feb 10: With a heavy heart, my wife and I headed to the immigration bureau early in the morning.

As expected, we were granted one year. But this time, it came with a notice detailing the strict requirements of the new policy: registered capital, full-time employees, and language proficiency. The message was clear—during this transition period, without meeting these hard requirements, securing a visa for three years or more is impossible.

Walking out of the bureau and looking up at the clear blue sky by the ocean, I felt a sudden sense of relief. Getting approved this year gives me full confidence for the road ahead.

Do business honestly, pay taxes properly, and don't worry too much about the rest.

A Bookstore Epiphany and an Unexpected Exile

That evening, while taking my kid to piano class, I killed time at a nearby bookstore.

I love Japanese bookstores. Even though my Japanese is still a work in progress, seeing shelves filled with a clash of different ideas brings me a deep sense of satisfaction. In the history section, I noticed a few new bestsellers: one on Sino-Japanese relations (already on its third print run since mid-2025), a brand-new book on US-Japan relations, and another highly reprinted book about Sanae Takaichi.

Having been educated in mainland China with a one-sided narrative for most of my life, standing on the other side and looking at history and international relations from a new angle is a completely different experience.

I took a few casual photos of the book covers, posted them on my WeChat Moments, and wrote a brief caption wishing I could improve my Japanese reading skills, as these books only have Japanese editions.

Then, something magical happened.

Within minutes, a friend messaged me asking what was wrong. They sent a screenshot showing that my entire WeChat Moments timeline had vanished.

I was confused. As someone who loves sharing online, I post once or twice a day—daily life, news commentary, and current events. Since moving to Japan, I have been very careful with my words, fully aware of how extreme the internet censorship in mainland China has become.

Yet, I never imagined that a simple photo of a book cover could trigger a total ban on my account's social functions. Even worse, I later realized that my messages in all group chats had become completely invisible to others.

I had entered a "parallel world." Literally.

A Ghost in the Machine

Because I had already linked my WeChat to an overseas phone number and email, my app had automatically switched to the international "WeChat" version. After the unnotified ban, my posts and group chat messages were only visible to other overseas WeChat users.

It got to the point where I could "like" or comment on my wife's post while sitting right next to her, but she would receive absolutely no notification.

It was a deeply surreal feeling. Modern people spend more than half their time communicating through the internet; the boundary between the digital and physical worlds is no longer clear.

Imagine walking down the street or sitting in your house: you can see and hear everyone else talking, but no one can see or hear you. It feels like being a little ghost.

There was no warning, no notice. I didn’t know which word, which sentence, or which picture opened the door to this "parallel world," nor did I know when I would be allowed to return to reality.

Suddenly, I had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. In a country with free speech, I was banned by an app from a so-called "free" country, simply for posting a photo of normal books.

Three days later, I returned from the parallel world. Again, no warning, no notice. I don’t know why I was banned, I didn’t know how long it would last, and I don't know why I was unbanned.

Time to Decouple

I have used WeChat for nearly 15 years since joining in 2011. Facing this issue for the first time helped me think clearly about a lot of things.

It is time to "decouple."

Actually, since moving to Japan, I had already decoupled much of my life—my hardware, software, and company business. WeChat was the only thing holding me back. It held my social network, years of habits, and app bindings.

But those three days in a parallel world forced me to realize that it was time to make a change.

I restricted my WeChat Moments visibility to just three days, pinned a new post announcing my departure, and abruptly moved my daily sharing to my independent blog and X (Twitter).

When I first arrived in Japan, I knew my business direction would be vastly different from the past decade. So, I set three rules for my new ventures:

1. It must be a long-term business, not chasing short-term trends or quick money.
2. It must be relatively immune to Sino-Japanese political tensions.
3. It must remain stable even if regional conflicts break out.

After trying several paths, I started a cross-border e-commerce export business in Japan last year, which perfectly meets all three conditions.

Since my business is already decoupled, my personal social platforms should gradually follow suit.

I finally realize that trying to "wake up" friends on WeChat with my limited influence is not only overestimating myself but also risks bringing trouble to my family. Furthermore, the vast majority of people simply don't need my help.

Taking good care of myself, protecting my family, and cherishing our life here in Japan—this is the most important thing right now, and for us, the luckiest thing of all.

Here is the Chinese Version.