Zoe, ETH Huangshan Hackathon Organizer; Zaohua Tech Founder; Product Manager (10+ years); Contributor and advocate for distributed communities
Cikey: Organizer of ETH Huangshan Hackathon; KeyMap Founder; Alcove Core Builder
Interviewer: jiang, contributor of Social Layer
跳转中文版
Core Contributer: Shaojun
Visuals & Editor: dca5 & Shiyu
ETH Huangshan — Keeping the Spark Alive
Jiang: Let’s start from the beginning. How did ETH Huangshan come about, and what were your respective roles in it?
Cikey: It was not a sudden idea. When I was living in Yucun last year, I had already organized several Web3 events there, and the feedback was very positive. When I visited Huangshan this March, I immediately felt that it would be a suitable place for a hackathon. The permanent population is small, the atmosphere is pleasant, the facilities are well-equipped, and there are many digital nomads, including independent media creators and developers. Bringing Web3 developers and digital nomads together sparks real chemistry. At first it was Shaofeng, myself, and a friend who had organized music events for more than a thousand people. We gathered to discuss the idea. In March I submitted a funding proposal to GCC, which was approved in May, and that was when we began.
The motivation was simple: ecosystems are built by people. When different people come together, new reactions happen. That was how ETH Huangshan was born. It had been fermenting for a long time.
Zoe: The location itself is not the key factor. What matters is for whom you organize the event. If it were a large international competition, we would need a place with high traffic and visibility. But our goal was to create something more intimate and unique, a developer event that blended work with lifestyle, where people could spend time together in a relaxed, friendly way using the competition format. So whether it is Huangshan or Changbaishan, as long as the right people gather, it works.
From a practical perspective, Huangshan is only about two hours by high-speed train from Shanghai, which makes it very accessible. Its infrastructure ranks among the best in the DN series and continues to improve. Yucun, by contrast, has smaller spaces and fewer work areas, so events there often need to move outdoors. Lao Xu also encouraged us to hold something in Yucun and work with the local government, but we did not want it to feel too official. In the end it became a small, private competition, an invite-only gathering within our community.
Jiang: How many people signed up in the end, and how many actually took part? What were the tracks and main themes of the competition?
Cikey: More than a hundred people registered. After selection, forty-five were admitted, and about forty actually participated. There were three main tracks: Open Source, Privacy and Encryption, and Web3 with AI. The theme this time was “The Infinite Game.” Many hackathons share a common problem: once the competition ends, the projects vanish, functioning more like a one-off showcase. We wanted to situate this event within a familiar ecosystem and the lived space of Huangshan, so that participants could truly build. Whether it was about making friends or advancing projects, we hoped to leave behind something that could continue, connections that endure, and projects that evolve.
Jiang: That’s true. Many hackathons are lively during the event but fade afterward. Were there any projects that really stood out to you, especially those with potential for long-term development?
Cikey: For example, Harold’s team created Proof of Human, which they kept refining and iterating after the hackathon. They even brought the same concept to a competition in Vietnam and discussed validation pathways with several foundations.
Another one was “Temple”, which centered on divination and fortune-telling. Their team was very inventive, and the way they designed the product made it easy to integrate into daily life. When I hesitate about going out, I sometimes open the app and ask, “Is today a good day to go out?” They later launched a Twitter account, built a standalone site, and started growing a community. Now they are focusing on how to keep improving both the product and its operation.
That project had a very typical origin. When Xiaoxian joined the hackathon, he didn’t come just to play around, he already had the idea for Temple. The hackathon provided a framework to turn that idea into a real project. He had planned to hire a designer, but within the event, like-minded people naturally found each other and started working side by side to see if they could collaborate well. Now Xiaoxian and Youzi are still developing it. For me, that continuity is not only the continuation of a project but also of human connection.
They also set up a BBQ group chat, where developers from the hackathon started small gatherings and sharing sessions. Their friendships have continued and taken root in different places. Whenever new competitions, projects, or ideas come up, they still discuss them in the group. We also invited Professor Guo Yu, which brought in many students who had previously attended his talks in Suzhou. Those students now meet every week for mathematical discussions. Projects can continue in many ways, and this is one of them.
Calling Friends to Hack in the Mountains.
Jiang: What do you think are the key elements in organizing a hackathon? How did you promote the event, attract developers, and collaborate with other communities?
Zoe: The most important thing about ETH Huangshan was the trust within the team and our ability to support one another. The night before Cikey left for Changsha, she came to me and said she wanted to organize this hackathon. I thought to myself, one person definitely isn’t enough, two still feel unstable, at least three people make it solid. Later we found Wenqian, Yaoyao, Lin, and the design group led by Karen. The team size turned out to be just right. Everyone was highly dependable, and our division of work was clear. In previous events, we relied on volunteers taking tasks spontaneously, which was enthusiastic but lacked structure. This time we outlined the roles in advance, not to limit anyone, but to make responsibilities clearer, so that when new tasks arose, people would step in naturally. The atmosphere of collaboration was especially good. Many of us had already interacted in different communities, so there was a strong sense of trust. The team was almost entirely made up of women, attentive and considerate in both planning and execution.
Cikey: I’ve always believed that professional work should be done by professionals. Everyone on the team had their own strengths, and we placed them where they could do their best. The location itself was also an important factor in our success. Some participants were curious about the digital nomad lifestyle, and Huangshan provided the perfect environment for that. Preserving the event’s spirit was equally important. From the very beginning, we never intended to make it a commercial one. During the process I contacted several potential sponsors, but if their goal was only promotion and they made too many demands, we would rather not collaborate. We preferred to put our time and resources into the event itself and the experience of the participants. The feedback afterward confirmed that choice: people said they felt free to express themselves and could sense that our focus was genuinely on the event.
Zoe: Our response was quick. Whenever participants had questions, even about logistics, we handled them ourselves. Because the number of people was small, it didn’t feel like a commercial event, but more like visiting friends. We also put a lot of thought into emotional experience. Many people said Huangshan felt more meaningful compared with other hackathons. The conditions here were actually quite modest. Some people stayed in tents, and showers were not always convenient, yet they still felt the experience was great. This kind of friendship-like gathering allowed deeper emotional connections to form. We didn’t arrange group meals. Instead, people chose their own companions, and after eating, they could walk along the river. Many of the most meaningful connections happened in these everyday moments.
Cikey: What we wanted was for people to slow down for a week, to collaborate in a relaxed, life-oriented way grounded in trust, without too much control, allowing natural expression. I once wrote a line that sums it up well: A mountain isn’t just a place; it’s also a stretch of time. It is where we meet, collide, and create.
Jiang: Organizing a hackathon ultimately comes down to finding money and people. How did you manage both?
Cikey: In March I applied for funding from GCC. Once they confirmed the proposal was feasible, they promised to release the funds as soon as they became available. Fully self-funding would have been far too heavy a burden and simply unrealistic. With GCC’s support, we were able to move forward with confidence. In addition, there were three organizations providing minor sponsorship and two individual sponsors with smaller contributions. The Ethereum Foundation also offered support, thanks to our long-term involvement in the community. I compiled all my previous work related to Ethereum, and this was the first time the foundation had seen such an initiative in a smaller, localized context, so they were very interested. Altogether, the sponsorships amounted to only a few thousand dollars, with about $3.5k in prizes. Total expenses stayed under $10k, which made it a very frugal event.
As for recruitment, enthusiasm and personal connections mattered most. When you genuinely want to do something well, that attitude naturally attracts people who share the same values. Many participants joined through word of mouth among friends or digital nomads.
Zoe: Frugality also became one of ETH Huangshan’s defining traits. Because the prize money was limited, it didn’t attract “grant hunters,” but people who genuinely wanted to take part. Many even paid their own way to come from afar. They weren’t participating for the prize, but because they believed in what we were doing. I remember someone once asked why we were willing to organize it. My answer was simple: we wanted to provide a public space for the community and make the ecosystem healthier. People drawn by that motivation are often kind and open-minded, and when problems arise, they tend to understand and support each other more easily.
Cikey: We even customized the event’s key visual. Everyone was willing to spend time refining it, not just to get it done, but because they truly wanted to make it good.
Jiang: In the past few years, builder culture has grown rapidly, but many projects struggle to sustain themselves. What do you think about this?
Zoe: Hackathons generally fall into two types. One recruits mature projects for pitching and investment, while the other starts from zero to one. In the latter, it’s normal that most projects don’t continue afterward. It’s actually rare for a project to keep developing beyond the event. The reason is that hackathon teams are usually formed temporarily, with limited trust, alignment, or cash flow, which makes long-term collaboration difficult. Unless the initiator has strong conviction, the project is unlikely to move forward. Before the event, we also tried to help participants find suitable partners. The matching didn’t always succeed, but at least it increased the chances of continuity. Another issue is the so-called “grant hunters,” who participate frequently and rely on prize money to sustain themselves. That model carries its own risks.
Cikey: I think many participants aren’t actually clear about what they want to develop. They act on instinct, which often means they lack market research and ecological understanding. As a result, their projects may be innovative in terms of technology, but with weak team structure and little market demand, they quickly stagnate. By contrast, those who do their homework before joining and come with clear goals and plans tend to go further. I recently spoke with the CEO of Tradingflow, who treats hackathons as opportunities to test ideas, bringing the same project to different events to validate and refine it until it evolves and continues. Most developers lack that level of preparation, which makes it hard for projects to last. That’s also why prize results sometimes appear less than fair.
Zoe: When I joined my first hackathon in November 2023, I saw Social Layer. I encountered it again at three later events, and it had changed each time. Three years have passed, and it’s still around, while I’ve already moved through several projects. That made me realize how important resilience itself is.
Shifting Technologies, Vibe Coding, and People
Jiang: Since last year, the pace of technological innovation seems to have slowed down. How do you view the current environment for developers? With so many events and the constant switch between new technical themes, do you ever feel a sense of fatigue?
Zoe: Change can be unsettling, but there are still people who persist. I met a pair of Indian developers who wanted to build a decentralized version of GitHub. Although the narratives and focus areas in each track keep changing every year, they have always believed that this direction has value. At last year’s DevCon, concepts like RWA, DePin, FHE, and ZK appeared. I don’t see that as information overload, but as a form of richness. Each concept has a group of believers behind it. Understanding their perspectives helps us identify which directions truly matter. Diversity is a good thing.
Cikey: Everyone has their own perspective. There were quite a few newcomers at the Huangshan hackathon this time. They were capable and brought fresh energy. They reminded me of the excitement I had when I first entered the field. Although that enthusiasm tends to fade over time, talking with them reignited something in me.
Zoe: Before ETH Huangshan, I was actually feeling a bit burnt out. After meeting Cikey, we reconnected, and through her I saw again the passion and sense of purpose of those just starting out. What I want hasn’t really changed. Knowing that there are still people who share the same intentions and want to do the same kind of work gives me hope again.
Cikey: After so many years and so many events, it’s natural to wonder whether fatigue sets in at the technical level. I don’t think it’s necessary to dwell too much on that. Technological progress itself is limited, and many hackathon projects are repetitive. The truly new ideas are often too far ahead to gain support, while the familiar ones that have already been validated are easier to succeed with. Instead of focusing only on the technology, it’s more important to see whether there is new creative energy that can inspire and generate positive momentum.
Jiang: With the rise of Vibe Coding and AI-assisted programming, the threshold for developers has become much lower. What new phenomena do you think this has brought? Has it made people more productive, or less serious about what they build?
Cikey: My younger sister Sanzhi works with Vibe Coding. During one Adventure, she completed a project in just two or three days and even won second place in the BNB Chain competition. I joked with her, “Didn’t you always say you couldn’t code?” Yet she did so well using Vibe Coding. But she told me that the reason she won wasn’t the tool itself. It was because she knew exactly what she wanted to do: what the goal was, how the logic worked, what the commercial potential could be, and whether the idea had a place in the ecosystem. Vibe Coding simply helped her realize it faster. What truly led her to success was the structured thinking behind it. So the key lies in the person using the tool. If the idea itself isn’t mature, without research or planning, the tool won’t help much.
Zoe: Product quality can’t be reduced to coding alone. It involves many dimensions: product positioning, overall planning, the accuracy and security of the code, and even later stages such as operation and maintenance. Vibe Coding is certainly helpful on the technical side, for example by making code more standardized and assisting with review, but that’s only a small part of the whole. Of course, it has brought two positive changes. On one hand, it makes it easier and faster to turn ideas into reality, which suits hackathons where rapid validation is essential, as well as the early zero-to-one stage of startups. On the other hand, it gives more people the opportunity to become independent developers. In the past, it was difficult for one person to complete a complex product alone. Now, with AI tools providing real-time support, teams can be smaller, communication friction is reduced, and efficiency becomes higher. However, when it comes to commercialization and mature operations, the current stage of Vibe Coding is still not enough. It remains a supportive tool. The expansion from one to many still requires professional teams to ensure stability.
A Sustainable Codetopia
Jiang: How do you think developer communities can achieve sustainable operation? What are the key points and challenges?
Cikey: We’ve discussed this topic with developers from Rebase, OpenBuild, Stanley, and HOH. The general consensus is that achieving both profitability and sustainability in a developer community is a false proposition in itself. When Ethereum first emerged, the early crypto punks were simply experimenting for fun and for ideals. The community grew from that spontaneous enthusiasm. What truly sustains a community has never been scale or a profit model, but its original intention. It was the same with KeyMap. At the beginning, we just felt that Web3 knowledge was too complex and wanted to make it more intuitive and accessible to newcomers. It started out entirely from interest, but as the community grew, we realized that the larger it became, the heavier the burden. Small gatherings of three to five people can speak freely, but once the scale expands, it often turns into a pattern where most people participate without contributing, leaving a few to carry the weight until their energy runs out. Many DAO communities face the same issue. They appear egalitarian but operate inefficiently and are prone to internal friction. What matters most is figuring out how small teams can keep functioning over time.
Rebase has been publishing its daily report for more than 1,700 issues, keeping it up for six years. Their community has never received a grant, relying instead on internal mechanisms to minimize energy consumption. Each member contributes no more than two hours per week on average, so no one is overburdened, and profitability is not the goal. It is precisely this low-consumption model and well-designed mechanism that have enabled sustainability. But if commercialization is set as the primary goal from the beginning, the model naturally shifts toward something else. Some so-called “event-based communities” receive significant ecosystem funding and organize many activities, but what they are really doing is running a business rather than producing projects within the community itself. That is not “developer community sustainability” but rather “the commercial viability of event communities.”
Zoe: From what I’ve observed, there are roughly three types of communities. The first is the commercial community, which takes profit as its goal. The community itself is the product or service. Its scale is usually limited, but the unit price is high, functioning essentially as a commodified service. The second is the typical DAO community, such as KeyMap, FREE B, or SeeDAO. These communities are largely driven by passion but face the risk of being unsustainable, as members are prone to burnout. They are more like living organisms whose first priority is not to grow but simply to survive. If they can’t make money, they have to reduce energy consumption. Rebase’s model is to limit individual contributions to within two hours per week, allowing the community to continue in a slow but steady way. The third type, which I’ve seen in DN Huangshan, is closer to public infrastructure. Just as national infrastructure is supported by fiscal funding, future communities may evolve into public goods, supported by larger entities that provide stable resources, allowing contributors within the community to be compensated. This seems to be a promising direction.
Each type of community has its own value. DAO communities, while less focused on input-output balance, help connect resources. Once a project enters a larger network, it gains more opportunities and support. Another major function of communities is their catalytic power: they make things happen that otherwise would not, help what is in progress happen faster, and give what already exists more support. As the network expands, good outcomes are bound to emerge.
Cikey: When discussing sustainability, we first need to clarify what kind of sustainability we mean. Is it about survival, or about expansion? Many communities take the path of commercialization, but money usually only helps you move faster, not necessarily farther. In contrast, communities with little funding but sound mechanisms and genuine motivation tend to last longer. Emotional bonds between people, the presence of dedicated organizers, a low-cost and functional structure, and diverse sources of motivation are all crucial. The essence of sustainability lies in whether these elements can still function after the initial passion fades. Human enthusiasm is always limited, but if the mechanisms are solid and the costs are low, a community can keep going even in quieter times. Rebase has lasted for six years not because everyone stayed highly passionate, but because they built on a healthy foundation and strong mechanisms.
Living Communities: Real Encounters and Everyday Bonds
Zoe: A community is a bit like a human being, the key is figuring out what it means to stay “alive.” When I was building FREE B, I wanted a complete structure, with professional incubation, teaching, supply and learning, and clear divisions of work. But running it was exhausting and energy-intensive. We also hoped to launch a product, get investment, and support everyone so we wouldn’t have to work as contractors anymore. None of those goals were realized, and that sense of failure made it hard to keep going. Then one day I let go of all those ambitions and realized that the people were still there, and new things were slowly happening. The community isn’t as closely knit as it once was, but the warmth and culture remain. So the question becomes: how do we define being “alive”? Sustainability doesn’t necessarily mean constant operation. A community might be quiet for years but still have the potential to restart. As long as the people remain, the connections remain. Even if it’s just a group chat, as long as it hasn’t been completely muted, it’s still “alive.”
Cikey: In the beginning, the guests we invited to KeyMap were all quite prominent, people like Guo Yu, Zhou Qi, KJ, and teams working on Dark Forest or legal literacy. We did weekly sessions and got burned out around the twentieth one. Every week was about finding guests, hosting, creating content, and it became exhausting. Later I gave up the fixed schedule and decided that KeyMap should simply act whenever something interesting came up. For me, sustainability doesn’t rely on moral persistence but on the ability to quickly bring people together when something exciting arises, then gather again when the next interesting thing appears. Over time, this still builds up a lot of outcomes. Not everything can engage the same group of people forever.
Zoe: The members within a community are fluid. Ideally, a decentralized community should still function even if any single person leaves. But in reality, the initiator often has to actively connect people, and others join because they like or trust that person. You can form a team for Project A, then another for Project B with different members, but the initiator usually cannot be replaced. The word “center” is not quite right; “node” fits better. In an ideal case, each person is a node in the network. If one node disappears, there may be a gap, but the whole web does not collapse.
Although it is hard to make grand predictions, next year I want to explore what Jiang called “the future developer community.” A community is not only a gathering of developers, but also a place where people seek belonging. Many members are not typical corporate workers; their family and work situations are often unstable. Staying too long in virtual space can feel unsafe, so there is a need for a warm, human environment. Online connections are often thin, but even a brief in-person meeting can create a completely different sense of trust. A truly sustainable and open community built on mutual trust must have an in-person connection, a physical space.
There are two main challenges. The first is equipment cost. Limited computing power restricts creativity. To make games, VR, or 3D projects, you need expensive tools. I imagine creating a “tool library,” a shared public resource that allows developers to access top-tier equipment at low cost and unleash their creativity. The second is project development. Many developers stop after completing their initial build; they do not know how to promote it and lack feedback. They need designers, product people, operations, and business roles to join in and help refine the work. The community should become a catalyst for that kind of collaboration and support. If all goes well, we hope to establish such an in-person developer space in Hangzhou next year.
Cikey: I am now taking over another, more specialized community, and I have also been thinking about sustainability and profitability. It is very difficult for a developer community to be profit-driven, so my focus shifted to how we can truly help developers. I hope they come with ideas and prototypes, and that the community can help them extend their projects, connect with resources, gain ecosystem funding, and understand the perspectives of VCs and investors. Some are academic types or technical purists who feel under-recognized; everyone brings a different perspective.
For events like ETH Huangshan, the real value lies in creating a space where people can meet face to face and spark ideas. Many developers are talkative in person but quiet online. When they encounter problems, they would rather ask AI than raise questions in group chats. Communities like Linux or Rust have forums where people are willing to write and discuss, which is more formal and allows knowledge to accumulate. I have also been wondering whether we need a similar format for structured expression. In-person interaction remains irreplaceable; even sharing a meal, a coffee, or a frisbee game changes relationships completely. How to combine online and in-person still requires exploration, but as long as there is a suitable space and mechanism that allows people to trust and stay connected, new possibilities will keep emerging. Perhaps the answer does not lie in any fixed model, but in the ongoing process of trying and doing.
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