It’s strange how we can mourn someone we never met, but Barbie Hsu, through Shan Cai, became a symbol of strength for so many of us.
In 2001, I was nine years old, studying in a public elementary school. Life was simple, mornings were spent in the classroom, afternoons were for playing outside, and evenings were dedicated to watching whatever was on TV. But when Meteor Garden arrived, everything changed. Suddenly, our world revolved around one show.
I remember how the girls in school proudly walked around with their long black hair in braids, trying to copy Shan Cai. Outside the school gates, vendors sold Meteor Garden postcards, stickers, and keychains. F4 was everywhere: on notebooks, pencil cases, shirts, even in our hearts. Teenage boys let their hair grow out, imitating Dao Ming Si’s curls or tying it back like Jerry Yan’s signature “pineapple” look (our version of the “man bun” at the time).
Jeepneys and tricycles blasted “Can’t Lose You” on repeat, “Oh baby, baby, baby!” and MYX Daily Top 10 was dominated by Mandarin songs, even though most of us barely understood the lyrics. It didn’t matter. Meteor Garden was more than just a show; it was a cultural phenomenon. There was no social media back then, yet its popularity spread like wildfire, uniting kids, teenagers, even adults, in a collective obsession.
But for me, it wasn’t just about the trend. Meteor Garden was personal.
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How her character shaped me
I saw myself in Shan Cai, Barbie Hsu’s unforgettable character. She wasn’t rich, she wasn’t perfect, but she was tough. She stood up for herself even when life seemed unfair. She fought against bullies, proudly held her head high, and never backed down from a challenge. I admired her strength, her resilience.
She had one line in the Tagalog-dubbed version that I never forgot:
“Ako ay parang isang damo na kahit ilang beses mong putulin ay muling tutubo at mabubuhay.” (I am like a blade of grass, no matter how many times you cut me down, I will grow back and live again.)
Those words stayed with me. Through every hardship, every heartbreak, every challenge life threw my way, I carried those words with me. And when people asked me how I managed to keep going despite everything, I would just jokingly say, “Pinalaki kasi ako ni Shan Cai.” But, in all honesty, until today, that stands true.
My Meteor Garden pilgrimage
In 2019, I travelled to Taiwan. While my friends were excited about night markets and bubble tea, for me, Taiwan meant only one thing: Meteor Garden.
We booked a private tour that took us to National Chung Cheng University, the location where so many of the show’s iconic scenes were filmed. I remember standing in front of the main building, looking around at the hallways and fountains that had once been nothing more than moving pictures on our small television screen. I let myself be that little girl again, the one who fell in love with Meteor Garden, the one who believed in Shan Cai and Dao Ming Si.
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On our last day, I convinced my friends to visit P.S. Bubu in Shilin District, the charming little café from Meteor Garden still stood, the place where Shan Cai and Dao Ming Si had their date before his mother tried to tear them apart. Sitting there, I could almost hear their conversations, imagining Dao Ming Si’s hesitation because the place was “too cute” for the leader of the most popular group in Ying De. I laughed at the thought.
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The end of an era
And now, Barbie Hsu is gone.
On February 3, 2025, news broke that Barbie Hsu, or Xú Xīyuán, had passed away. Her family confirmed it to Taiwanese media, and just like that, a part of my childhood felt like it had disappeared. I never met her, but it felt personal. It felt like losing an old friend.
I saw a TikTok video with the caption: “Para tayong nawalan ng kababata!” (It feels like we lost a childhood friend!) And it hit me. Yes, that’s exactly what this feels like.
It’s strange how we can mourn someone we never met, but Barbie Hsu, through Shan Cai, became a symbol of strength for so many of us. Her character taught me that we could stand up for ourselves, that we could keep going no matter what. And now that she’s gone, it feels like a chapter of my life has closed.
Rest easy, our Shan Cai.
Join me on a trip down memory lane and let’s play one of the iconic songs from the series, shall we?
