Sweet or savory?
These online conversations have also kept alive one of the Dragon Boat Festival's most playful annual debates: should zongzi be sweet or savory?
For many northerners, a proper zongzi is often simple and sweet — filled with red dates or bean paste, dipped in sugar or honey, and eaten for the fragrance of glutinous rice. For many southerners, especially in places such as Jiangsu, Zhejiang and Guangdong provinces, zongzi should be rich enough to serve as a meal, with pork, salted egg yolk, mushrooms, ham or seafood inside.
Every year, as the festival approaches, the online argument returns with good-natured banter.
Northerners ask why anyone would put meat in a "rice dumpling". Southerners reply that red dates alone hardly count as a filling. Then someone from another region joins in arguing the superiority of spicy meat, gray-water (alkaline-water-soaked) or flower zongzi, reminding everyone that the "taste map" is never as simple as "North versus South".
Logistics companies and online retailers have made it easier for northern consumers to order southern pork zongzi, and for southern shoppers to buy red date or bean paste versions. Many families now enjoy both.
Some producers have built zongzi museums, cultural displays and offer factory tours to provide visitors with intangible cultural heritage experiences.
Traditional patterns, illustrations and cultural themes used in gift box designs are highlighted in short videos where the wrapping process and culinary skills are depicted.
Yet for many people, the appeal of zongzi remains in the emotions and memories the treat evokes.
For Lin, zongzi carries recollections of childhood, his hometown and family reunions. His parents worked away from home when he was young, and he lived with his grandparents. Some years, his parents would return for the Dragon Boat Festival for two or three days before returning to work.
"At that time, I felt happy that everyone was together," Lin said. "Only after growing up did I understand how precious those short reunions were."
Now, when he chooses zongzi for his family or sends gift boxes to friends and colleagues, he looks at brand reputation, the ingredients and health labels. He appreciates the convenience and variety of today's market.
But one bite still takes him back to the old kitchen, the bamboo leaves and the family gathered around the stove.
For Chen, too, the meaning of zongzi has not disappeared simply because many people now buy it instead of making it.
"The form has changed," she said. "But as long as people still eat zongzi at festival time and think of home, the tradition is still there."