Written by: Ada | TechFlow TechFlow

Late one night in 2025, Sea, the founder of Sea Talk, turned on his computer to edit the program he had just recorded. This was the most grueling part for him, as he needed to process the verbal tics, fragmented expressions, and stutters in the two-hour dialogue recording.

However, this is only half of the work. He still needs to write shownotes, create video subtitles (proofreading each technical term and the capitalization of both Chinese and English), create covers, distribute and promote the content on multiple platforms.

Before this, he had spent a week contacting guests, listening to all of their interviews, reviewing hundreds of their tweets, calling ahead to find out their recent focus, and creating an interview outline of 20-30 questions before starting the actual recording, which took him more than two hours.

Almost simultaneously, someone posted a 10,000-word analysis report on the same topic on X. It's easy to see that this report was generated by AI, filled with the "not...but" AI flavor, and included AI-generated charts and conclusions. However, this didn't stop it from gaining attention. While Sea's self-proclaimed successful podcast had only garnered 1481 listens, this AI-generated article had already far surpassed it in readership within 12 hours.

This is a true reflection of the current Chinese encrypted content ecosystem: on one hand, there's the industrialized deluge of information production, and on the other, there's the workshop-style content creation. According to market logic, the latter should have been eliminated long ago.

But strangely enough, more and more people in the crypto industry are making podcasts.

Why?

To answer this question, we conducted in-depth interviews with six Chinese encrypted podcast hosts: Liu Feng of Web3 101, Bill of Bill It Up, Mable of HODLong, Vivienne and Zhiyang of Cryptoria, and Sea of ​​Sea Talk.

Their podcasts vary in format and level of commercialization, but their narratives point in a common direction: in an information ecosystem rapidly dominated by AI, algorithms, and emotions, podcasts are becoming one of the few forms of expression that can still preserve the "presence of people."

The cost of not taking money

“I’ve refused to accept money from many people who have offered it to me,” Mable said.

Mable is a pioneer of Chinese crypto podcasts. In late 2019, after joining the well-known crypto VC Multicoin Capital as an executive director, Mable quickly launched a podcast called "51%" (51 Says) in 2020. This program has become an enlightenment podcast for many newcomers to the crypto industry, but its introduction always has a small line: "Presented by Multicoin".

In 2022, after leaving Multicoin to embark on her entrepreneurial journey, Mable created her own fully self-managed crypto podcast, "HODLong 后浪" (HODLong, the Next Generation). At the same time, as a new consumer investor, she also participated in the creation of a podcast about Chinese brands, "牌牌坐" (Paipai Zuo).

The two podcasts, one focusing on encryption and the other on consumption, have one thing in common: no one tells her what to say or not to say.

Mable has long operated as a one-woman show, without a team or sponsors; she handles all the topic selection, recording, editing, and publishing herself.

Maintaining the independence of her podcast has always been her stance. She enjoys creating content, has her own pursuit of good content, and doesn't want to be tied down by advertising or sponsorship. "If I take money, I can't talk to whomever I want or say whatever I want," Mable said.

However, this pursuit is not without its costs. The financial return on investment for independent podcasts is too low to be considered a viable business.

"But why did you persist for so long?" we asked.

“Because I still want to talk,” she said without hesitation.

Liu Feng, the creator of Web3 101, also wants to speak freely. He is the former editor-in-chief of the crypto media ChainNews and has worked at Bloomberg. He is a well-known media figure in the industry.

Liu Feng is very clear about the positioning of "Web3 101": he only wants to create in-depth, vertical content and doesn't care about sponsorships. His stance in the interview was clear: if a guest makes obvious PR moves, he will not hesitate to cut out the commercials, even at the cost of abandoning the entire program.

"Aren't you worried that it will affect your subsequent communication with the guests?" we pressed.

“Then let’s not communicate anymore. He doesn’t really respect our program,” Liu Feng replied decisively.

If speaking freely comes at a price for these elites, how high will the cost be for ordinary people to be heard in the public sphere in 2026?

The answer may surprise you. When text is fragmented by algorithms, videos require on-screen presence and a persona, and social media becomes an arena for emotions, podcasts have become one of the few channels that still allow "ordinary people to express themselves deeply."

Looking at the timeline of the interviewees, the earliest batch of creators started trying podcasts as early as 2018–2019. However, at that time, there were no mature platforms or commercial expectations, and it was more of a "convenient tool for expression".

The real change occurred after 2022, with podcasts gaining popularity due to the systematic failure of other forms of expression.

Text content is compressed into "fragments of opinions" by algorithms, and X gradually evolves into an arena for stances and emotions. Video content places excessive demands on identity exposure, production costs, and emotional management.

In this context, the value of podcasts has been rediscovered. They may not have the highest information density, but their information is "complete in form"; they spread slowly, but their cognitive accumulation is profound.

While all media are pursuing "speed" and "enjoyment," podcasts' "slowness" and "clumsiness" have become a moat against nihilism.

The Paradox and Dilemma of Commercialization

Not all podcast hosts are as averse to commercialization as Mable.

“We started getting sponsors when we only had a few hundred fans,” Vivienne said, finding it unbelievable even to herself.

"I really feel that there is nothing else to say except that I am lucky and grateful. If we were making an emotional or personal growth podcast, it would be absolutely impossible at this scale."

This is an interesting paradox in the encrypted podcasting industry: the ceiling is low, but the threshold for monetization is also low.

The reason is simple: this is a market paid for by high-net-worth B2B clients. Project teams need to make their voices heard in the Chinese-speaking world, but traditional distribution channels either fail to reach the target audience or are prohibitively expensive. A niche podcast focused on encryption, even with only a few hundred targeted subscribers, can be more valuable than a general account with hundreds of thousands of followers.

But that's only half the story. The other half is that even with sponsorships, the vast majority of crypto podcasts still don't make money.

Why?

Essentially, this is a very niche market.

Liu Feng bluntly stated: "If Chinese encrypted podcasters want to make big money through commercialization, they can consider giving up. But if they do it as a hobby, everyone can stick with it."

He analyzed that in-depth content is always consumed as long-tail content by the audience, and ultimately it can't compete with traffic-driven products. However, educating elite audiences is a very expensive thing, and no one is willing to pay that money.

The Wall Street Journal once reported that top-tier English-language encrypted podcasts can command custom content rates of up to $100,000 per episode. In China, however, no podcast currently reaches that level.

This gap is not just about money, but also about the difference in the structure of influence.

In the English-speaking world, podcasts have long been an important channel for elite discourse. Elon Musk spends three hours on Joe Rogan's show, Trump appears on podcasts during his campaign to garner votes, and Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang sits down for in-depth discussions about the future of AI. The impact of these conversations is no less than that of any formal press conference.

However, in the Chinese-speaking world, podcasts are still in their infancy. Entrepreneurs, policymakers, and industry leaders are still more accustomed to expressing themselves through traditional media interviews or official statements. Podcasts are seen as a "niche, informal, and limited-impact" form of expression.

In other words, making small money with podcasts is easy, making big money is difficult; building influence is easy, monetizing it is difficult. This is a common dilemma facing all Chinese encrypted podcast hosts.

Sea has a clear understanding of this: "I don't see encrypted podcasts as something to monetize. It's a medium for my expression. I don't have commercial expectations for it, which lowers my expectations and reduces the loss of communication with people in between."

This is why Sea Talk firmly declined when exchanges and market makers approached them for brand collaborations. Firstly, they didn't have an urgent need for monetization, and secondly, such sponsorships didn't align with Sea Talk's brand image.

Those gains that cannot be measured in money

From a purely ROI perspective, podcasting is a terrible deal. But almost all the podcast hosts interviewed mentioned one word: cognitive restructuring.

“It forced me to think deeply,” Vivienne said. “It not only helped me understand the industry better, but also made me clearer about what I’m good at and what I’m not.”

Over the past year, she has wavered between job hunting, changing jobs, and returning to traditional finance, but the process of making podcasts helped her clarify her direction. She knows clearly that if she were just working a regular job, this self-awareness might take much longer to form.

Liu Feng shares a similar experience. To explain a single episode clearly, he must constantly dissect appearances, question the logic, and verify assumptions. This essentially forces him to learn and reconstruct his understanding. Often, after recording an episode, he finds that his understanding of a particular issue has completely changed.

This reveals a hidden value of podcasts: they are not merely a channel for content output, but also a mandatory cognitive training mechanism. The preparation process for each episode is a systematic review of a topic; every conversation with a guest is a test of one's cognitive boundaries.

Sea, however, understands this from another perspective.

“I joked with my daughter that if she becomes interested in Bitcoin in the future, she can listen to my podcasts from over the years.” He paused for a moment and continued, “The impact of my voice and my words from ten years ago is different.”

He likens each podcast episode to "a snapshot of the guest's thoughts at this moment." Like blockchain, it's recorded, stored away, and available for future generations to review. This is a kind of temporal value. It doesn't produce immediate returns, but it slowly ferments over time.

To put it more simply, the process of making a podcast is inherently enjoyable.

However, the meaning of "joy" here needs to be redefined. There's pressure during the initial preparation and recording stages, and anxiety during post-production editing. Only the final product brings joy. This is the true feeling of all podcast hosts. It can also be figuratively described as: the joy of making a podcast is a "rebirth after self-torture."

Methodology of Success

In the interviews, a fact that was repeatedly emphasized but often overlooked was that most failed podcasts did not lose because of their viewpoints, but because of their product awareness.

“Many people just record the chat,” Liu Feng said, “but that’s not the same as a program.”

There is a fundamental difference between "recording a chat" and "producing a program." Sound quality, editing, and pacing determine whether a program can be fully consumed in real-life scenarios such as commuting or exercising. A program with poor sound quality, a sluggish pace, and filled with quirks and redundant information, no matter how good its viewpoints, will struggle to retain listeners.

Mable made a sharp observation: "Although there is a lot of homogenization, it doesn't feel very exciting because none of them are very good. There are very few high-quality encrypted podcasts with product thinking."

Product awareness is just the basic threshold; what's more difficult is how to create truly valuable content in an industry where narratives change rapidly and viewpoints are constantly being rewritten.

Liu Feng summarized a formula: find topics that are of general concern to everyone, find the most valuable people and the people with the most traffic, and then sincerely conduct an in-depth dialogue.

Bill's advice focuses more on the creators themselves: create content that you're good at, and then think about what users and audiences need in this era, and what kind of information and insights can help them. Combining these two points is the key to consistently creating good content.

But there is an even more hidden dilemma.

There are plenty of people who want to express themselves, but finding friends with whom you can have in-depth conversations is not easy. Open Twitter and WeChat Moments, and you'll see many people eager to express themselves, all striving to contribute. But if you actually sit down and chat for an hour or two, you'll find that many people's expressions only last for about 15 seconds, making it difficult to develop a deep discussion.

This is a consequence of the short video era. People have become accustomed to fragmented output and have lost the ability to express themselves in a structured, long-term manner.

Sea validated this observation from another perspective: "Many people have ideas, but they don't necessarily tweet every day like KOLs. Many of their insights are buried in their minds. If no one asks them, their insights cannot be expressed."

Therefore, as a podcast host, you need to be like an information mining machine, possessing structuring abilities. It's not just about being able to talk, but also about controlling the pace of the conversation, capturing the main thread, and reorganizing information without interrupting the guests.

From this perspective, a good encrypted podcast is more like a "slow variable." It doesn't create sensational moments, but it builds relationships and trust over time, and sparks profound insights.

How can I persevere?

Vivienne remembers it clearly; it was when Cryptoria had just reached its 15th issue.

That day, she casually mentioned in the listener group, "I'm a bit tired lately, I don't know how long I can keep going." She just wanted to complain, but the group suddenly exploded.

Some people started proactively contacting the project team, asking, "We have a podcast, would you like to consider sponsoring it?"; others started fundraising directly in the group, saying, "If everyone donates 50 USDT, it'll be enough for them to run for three months." Still others said, "Don't stop, I listen to every episode. It's my most important channel for understanding the industry."

Vivienne burst into tears when she saw those messages. "It was at that moment that I realized that there really were people listening and caring about what we were doing."

She now calls her listener group an "energy recharge station," not because it brings in money, but because it proves that what you do is meaningful to some people.

This is why Vivienne suggests creating a listener group from day one of starting a podcast. Because "don't test human nature."

This makes sense. Without timely positive feedback, it's difficult to persevere in anything you do, no matter how passionate you are. The sooner you have a listener group, the sooner you can get feedback on your content, which helps you adjust the content structure, depth, and topics, and attract like-minded people.

Bil's advice is concise and powerful: "What do you like and what are you good at? Spread that word. Be persistent and don't give up because of short-term difficulties." In his view, content creation is an infinite game. Platforms will change, and content formats will vary—it could be posting, writing articles, making videos, or creating podcasts—but what's worth persisting in is spreading the word.

end

Returning to the scenario at the beginning of the article, when the data of a program produced through hard work and late nights is still inferior to that of an AI-generated low-quality article, should we still persevere?

This is a real-world question, and the answer lies in the meaning of podcasts.

The AI-generated analysis was drowned out by the flood of new information within 24 hours, and no one remembered what it said. The meticulously crafted podcast, however, was still being listened to three months later, discussed in the comments, and shared with friends. It became a "standard reference" on a particular topic, repeatedly cited.

Mable is right: "In the age of AI, the fact that you, as a real person, can be noticed and remembered by others is valuable in itself."

In an information environment rife with copy-pasting, AI-generated content, and profit-driven motives, a genuine conversation and an honest expression of opinion are becoming exceptionally precious. This is perhaps the most unique value proposition of encrypted podcasts.

It doesn't make money, it's inefficient, and it has a limited audience. But it records the real people, real thoughts, and real moments in this industry.

As Zhiyang said, "You will have many unexpected gains from making podcasts, and these gains will come to you, rather than you having to knock on them one by one with great difficulty."

The hosts of Chinese encrypted podcasts may not realize how important the things they are doing are.

They thought they were just documenting an industry, but in reality, they were fighting against a trend: the industrialization of information production squeezing out human expression.

They may never get rich from it, and their shows may only ever have a few thousand listeners. But looking back ten years from now, these voices may be the most precious footnotes to our understanding of this era.

On the ruins of traffic, they are rebuilding a stronghold for in-depth content.

While blockchain records wealth, podcasts record vibrant souls.

TechFlow is a community-driven in-depth content platform dedicated to providing valuable information and insightful thinking.

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