Weve all seen the war movies； Before heading off to battle， the rookie recruit kisses his girlfriend goodbye， promising， “As soon as I come back， I will marry you.” Or maybe he keeps a photo of that childhood sweetheart in his wallet to show others whats waiting at home. Its as bad as someone on Game of Thrones saying， “Well talk when I get back.”

Theyre dead meat， we all know it.

Chinese moviegoers have a term for this sort of signaling： “Dont raise a flag！” （不要立flag！ B%y3o l# flag?。?Originally a gaming term， “raise a flag” refers to particular lines or cues that serve as a sure sign of impending death or disaster. It usually exists as a half-Chinese， half-English term—立flag， with 立 （l#） meaning “raise” （mixed use of Chinese and English has become increasingly popular both online and in conversation among younger Chinese， even as some scholars and media have criticized the phenomenon， citing “l(fā)anguage purity”）.

This term is often used on social media or in “bullet subtitles” （彈幕 d3nm&）， viewers comments that shoot across the screen as chyrons when a video is played. Thanks to their overreliance on cliché， screenwriters make it easy for anyone to recognize a flag. When a hitman hero swears “This will be the last time I kill，” he is raising a flag—hes guaranteed to not only kill many times more but probably die himself before washing his hands of this business； when a mother calls her child before surgery to reassure that “Mommy will be back soon，” thats a flag that the shes sure to die on the operating table； even a schoolgirl telling her best friend a secret after school raises a distinct flag that the consequences could be fatal. All the viewer can do is plead， “不要立flag！” or lament， “Flag 已立 （Flag y@l#. The flag has been raised）.”

You may have heard another expression—烏鴉嘴 （w$y`zu@， literally “crow mouth”） referring to someone who says something ominous. If one remarks of a person， “He has been out of contact for 24 hours. Im afraid something has happened to him，” its crow mouth， and will be called out. But its more like a bizarro flag-raise， in which the meaning is totally inverted. When you hear some grim crow-mouth talk， its not regarded as ominous or unlucky. Instead， people call it “反 （f2n） flag，” or “counter-flag，” meaning these phrases indicate that everything will， in all likelihood， turn out alright.

The logic goes that if ones worst fears have already been aired， they are far less likely to transpire. Its akin to jinxing： Just as pride comes before a fall， a declaration of confidence is like a red rag as far as fate is concerned. So better instead to predict ones own impending doom as a way to ensure your own survival—a false-flag operation， if you will.

Not that flags are always life-or-death matters. In daily life， the criteria for whats a flag and what flags mean are fairly loose. Indeed， having faith in just about anything could be interpreted as a flag. For example， your friend may casually predict sunny weather： “明天一定是個好天氣。” （M！ngti`n y！d#ng sh# ge h2o ti`nq#. It must be a good day tomorrow！） And you probably will say： “你最好別立flag，又霧霾了怎么辦？” （N@ zu#h2o bi9 l# flag. Y7u w&m1i; le z0nmeb3n？ Youd better not raise a flag！ What if theres smog again？）

It doesnt matter how good the going is—even if you pass the day with flying colors， many Chinese think its safer to wave a white flag than raise a red one.