Top model Lin Chih-lin (林志玲) found herself in a pickle this week after Next Magazine found that she had not paid her National Health Insurance (NHI) dues in more than three years.
Lin had no plans, however, to launch a Taiwanese branch of America’s anti-healthcare reform Tea Party Patriots. The Liberty Times, our sister newspaper, reported that the leggy beauty quickly paid the NT$210,000 she owed. Department of Health Minister Yaung Chih-liang (楊志良) sounded like he had had enough of the media ruckus when he
told the press that “she’s willing to admit that she made a careless oversight and she’s already given us the money.”
The magazine milked Lin’s payment in arrears for all it was worth, devoting four pages to the topic in last week’s issue. The article took a populist slant, writing that while this week’s NHI fee hike could potentially affect 3 million Taiwanese citizens, the monthly fee is mere pocket change for Lin, who reportedly makes more than NT$10 million per year. “A lot of wage earners are heartsick that their wallets will once again have to shed blood,” the gossip rag moaned, before adding “if everyone acted like Lin Chih-llin, the financial black hole would become larger and larger.”
Ironically, Lin was the target of flack five years ago for receiving “VIP treatment” at National Taiwan University Hospital after being thrown from a horse, even though she then paid only the minimum per month fee for NHI coverage. The ensuing ruckus led to several celebrities having their insurance fees raised by the Bureau of National Health Insurance, a provision nicknamed “the Lin Chih-lin clause”
(林志玲條款).
Last week was a banner week for Next in terms of unnamed sources. An anonymous reader, who was also the Department of Health’s source, brought Lin’s financial delinquency to Next’s attention. Another Deep Throat wannabe was the source of several text messages purportedly sent by actress Annie Yi (伊能靜) to her ex-husband Harlem Yu (庾澄慶), begging the singer-songwriter to take her back.
The duo’s marital discord was much publicized in 2009 before their divorce was finally announced in March last year, as was their custody battle for their young son, known in the press as Little Harry (小哈利).
The eight text messages, some of which Next gleefully splashed on its cover, have Yi allegedly groveling to Yu. “I was truly wrong, I hope that one day you’ll be able to forgive me,” one pleads. Next admitted that when it tried to trace the texts to their original online source, it discovered that the Web site had been taken down. Nonetheless, the magazine made a bit of effort to prove the veracity of the messages.
Though the ex-couple have adamantly denied the possibility of a reconciliation, Next insisted that the texts are genuine because they used Yi’s nickname for Yu: “Harry’s old pa” (哈老爸). Some were supposedly sent while Yi was vacationing in New York City (Yi allegedly assured her ex that she “had no night life” and was traveling with female companions only), while another referred to Yu’s recent trip abroad. “I saw that you are going to Bangladesh,” it read. “Be careful of your health and hygiene. Happy New Year!”
Rumors of a reunion started swirling in February, but Yi and Yu have yet to be seen in public together.
Hong Kong super hottie Andy Lau is happily married, but that hasn’t stopped the media from hounding him. Lau and long-time girlfriend Carol Chu (朱麗倩) denied being wed until the press uncovered an online record proving the two had gotten hitched in Nevada nearly two years ago. Since his “secret” marriage was uncovered earlier this year, media attention on the pair has only intensified.
Lau arrived in Taiwan to promote his latest film, Future X-Cops (未來警察), but reporters focused their questions on Lau’s home life and whether he intended to knock Chu up any time soon. One reporter asked if Lau felt any more carefree now that his marriage was out in the open.
Lau sighed, “the pressure has just gotten worse.”
It’s a good thing that 2025 is over. Yes, I fully expect we will look back on the year with nostalgia, once we have experienced this year and 2027. Traditionally at New Years much discourse is devoted to discussing what happened the previous year. Let’s have a look at what didn’t happen. Many bad things did not happen. The People’s Republic of China (PRC) did not attack Taiwan. We didn’t have a massive, destructive earthquake or drought. We didn’t have a major human pandemic. No widespread unemployment or other destructive social events. Nothing serious was done about Taiwan’s swelling birth rate catastrophe.
Words of the Year are not just interesting, they are telling. They are language and attitude barometers that measure what a country sees as important. The trending vocabulary around AI last year reveals a stark divergence in what each society notices and responds to the technological shift. For the Anglosphere it’s fatigue. For China it’s ambition. For Taiwan, it’s pragmatic vigilance. In Taiwan’s annual “representative character” vote, “recall” (罷) took the top spot with over 15,000 votes, followed closely by “scam” (詐). While “recall” speaks to the island’s partisan deadlock — a year defined by legislative recall campaigns and a public exhausted
In the 2010s, the Communist Party of China (CCP) began cracking down on Christian churches. Media reports said at the time that various versions of Protestant Christianity were likely the fastest growing religions in the People’s Republic of China (PRC). The crackdown was part of a campaign that in turn was part of a larger movement to bring religion under party control. For the Protestant churches, “the government’s aim has been to force all churches into the state-controlled organization,” according to a 2023 article in Christianity Today. That piece was centered on Wang Yi (王怡), the fiery, charismatic pastor of the
Hsu Pu-liao (許不了) never lived to see the premiere of his most successful film, The Clown and the Swan (小丑與天鵝, 1985). The movie, which starred Hsu, the “Taiwanese Charlie Chaplin,” outgrossed Jackie Chan’s Heart of Dragon (龍的心), earning NT$9.2 million at the local box office. Forty years after its premiere, the film has become the Taiwan Film and Audiovisual Institute’s (TFAI) 100th restoration. “It is the only one of Hsu’s films whose original negative survived,” says director Kevin Chu (朱延平), one of Taiwan’s most commercially successful
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