I had been thinking a lot about toxic fandoms, media, and the public, especially with the recent re-examination of the way Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, Monica Lewinsky and other women were treated. I don’t have anything particularly enlightened to add to that conversation that others have not already articulated better, but it served as an old reminder that while celebrities may have the fortune and privilege of what money and status can provide for them, these things do not make for impenetrable armours. I can not even fathom how crippling the mental and emotional toll of being torn down and vilified in public must be.

Then, Chinese actor (Sean) Xiao Zhan (肖战) penned a very personal open letter over the weekend about what happened a year ago when U.S. fan fiction website Archive Of Our Own (AO3) was completely banned from China and he was blamed for it. I wrote about his letter in Part II of my post.

Of course, I am not trying to make an apples to apples comparison to the recent public reckoning in the West over Britney and others, which is a somewhat different issue and carries with it many other layers involving sexism and misogyny, but the toxic environment of celebrity culture and fans remains true regardless of geography.

So what happened a year ago and what does it all have to do with AO3?

The incredible mainstream success of The Untamed in Asia (and internationally for those who watch C-dramas) propelled the two main leads of the show, Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo, to superstardom. The historical fantasy series, based on the Chinese danmei/BL web novel The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (魔道祖师; Mó Dào Zǔ Shī), tells the story of Wei Wuxian/Wei Ying and Lan Wangji/Lan Zhan. In the book, the two male protagonists are lovers, which of course, would never make it pass Chinese government censors on screen, especially in 2019 — entertainment gatekeepers were working extra hard that year. The script brilliantly navigated this important story element by rewriting them as best friends for viewers who do not know any better or chose to turn a blind eye, while weaving in hints about the true nature of their relationship and including key scenes from the book, such as the “wedding”, that would be modified for censors but recognizable to those familiar with the original source. In a Western context, this would be queerbaiting; in China, this was essential to making it on air.

It worked. China’s English state media, Global Times wrote: “The drama was praised by The People’s Daily for its “wonderful presentation of Chinese characteristics,” showing traditional cultural elements through exquisite costumes, traditional Chinese music instruments, as well as transmitting positive values such as courage and love for one’s country.”

You’d think the show was some nationalist propaganda piece produced by the central government, based on that heavy-handed effusive praise! (It’s nothing of the kind.)

The pairing of the two characters is known as “WangXian” in the fandom world. Netflix Canada, meanwhile, describes them as “soulmates.”

Fan fiction about “WangXian” took off, with many finding a home on AO3. “For a lot of people in China, AO3 was a place for free expression because AO3 does not require real name registration...you don’t have to upload a passport or identification document verifying that you indeed are who you say you are,” explained Emily Feng on NPR’s Rough Translation.

For a glimpse into that fandom and how most AO3 users are now aware of it too, Vox’s Aja Romano wrote an excellent piece recently about how a single “WangXian” fanfic is “holding AO3’s community hostage.” Despite the author’s insistance in an interview with Romano that they are not trolling, there is a sense of obnoxiousness in the impenitant behaviour that somehow echos the extreme conduct within a segment of the broader fandom. But I digress.

A little over a year ago, one particular fan fiction story, which reimagined Xiao Zhan/Wei Ying as a transgender woman and sex worker who is in a relationship with Wang Yibo/Lan Zhan, drew the ire of self-proclaimed Xiao Zhan fans, who were so offended by the content “tarnishing” their idol that they reported it directly to the government’s Chinese Cyberspace Administration, the central regulators of China’s internet. Feng gives a good account in Rough Translation of how it all went down. But long story short, it became a concerted campaign to not simply have that story or the author blocked in China — the goal was to get the the entire website banned. And the government did  -- almost immediately.

THE INSTIGATORS

There have always been conflicting rumours about who poisoned the well first.

Were they truly just a small group of militant Xiao Zhan fans who were “protective” of their idol? Was it a targeted smear campaign by people behind “rival” idols? An inside job? Or some combination of all of the above? And were the haters that came after only AO3 users and former fans upset at the ban? Adding to the mix of potential instigators was the very real fandom war happening between fanatical Wang Yibo supporters, Xiao Zhan fans, and CP fans (“couple” or “character pairing”, aka “shippers” in Western fandom lingo) of both actors.

It’s unlikely a smear campaign could ever be proven, but even C-dramas themselves have touched on how ugly things can get behind the scenes and the lengths agencies, studios and managers might go to garner sympathy or take out the competition, so to speak, leaving the stars themselves on both sides caught in the middle with no say or control over the situation.

Some have speculated that people in Wang Yibo’s camp may have started or at least fueled some of the fallout, which, if true, is likely disheartening for The Untamed fans who have always loved the friendship and camaraderie between the two actors. Following the success of The Untamed, the cast went on numerous fan tours and performed a huge concert to close out that chapter of their lives. The interactions and dynamics between the two actors were always viewed by fans as the highlight of those events along with the behind the scenes footages from on set that were released.

But Wang Yibo’s silence in the aftermath of the AO3 incident has not sat well with some Xiao Zhan supporters and at least publicly, it appears inevitable that what happened has likely coloured their relationship.

THE FALLOUT

Importantly, the loss of a site like AO3 was a blow especially to the creative, artistic and the LGBTQ2S+ communities in China, where safe, anonymous spaces for self-expression are extremely rare and precious, and where writing homoerotic content and slash fiction can get you arrested and even a 10-year sentence. I remember reading an article written sometime after the ban that articulated the enormity of this loss. (I’ve been trying to find it again to share here, with no success unfortunately.)

Almost overnight, Xiao Zhan went from one of the country’s most popular stars to being vilified for the actions of his apparent fans and not “controlling” them better -- despite the unlikelihood he was even aware any of this was happening until it exploded. The entire event unravelled with astounding speed, perhaps compounded by the fact that everyone was confined at home due to the pandemic. He was criticized for not immediately issuing a personal response, while his fan club apologized for “failing to prevent some of its members from voicing ‘radical’ views,” South China Morning Post reported.

Even now, the attacks are active and ongoing, though perhaps with less intensity. But it is striking when compared with the case of Zheng Shuang, previously considered one of the most popular actresses in China. She was accused of abandoning two surrogate babies in the United States in January after she and the children’s father, Zhang Heng, split before they were born. While she has been blacklisted by the Chinese entertainment industry as a result, the fandom backlash by all appearances has not been nearly as severe, despite the terribleness and gravity of her alleged actions.

IDOL ECONOMY

Xiao Zhan had been a rainmaker for luxury brands who sought him out for endorsements. Famously, an Estee Lauder lipstick line he endorsed sold out in the first hour, garnering millions of dollars in sales. But now, an aggressive campaign was underway to boycott companies like Piaget unless they changed their idol ambassador. Estee Lauder immediately changed their spokesmodels to mitigate any losses, Nikkei Asia reported, adding that brands who stuck with him quickly paid the price. Regardless, some did anyway, like Kai Xiao Zao (开小灶).

The financial fallout and the world of the “idol economy” found coverage in English industry fashion publications as well as business news sites. For the uninitiated, it was a case study of the Chinese fan economy and the enormous power they wield over the success and failure of a star. Fan Shuhong writes about it in detail in her RADII China piece, Idol Hands: How China’s Super Fan Groups Make and Break Stars via the Multi-Million Dollar “Fan Economy”. When things are “good”, fans are exceptionally organized and loyal, spending unimaginably vast sums of money to buy their products as a show of support. When things are “bad”, they can just as easily tear an idol down (and anyone who dare to associate with them). Agencies also cater and bolster these fandoms as well, especially new ones, to help spawn a market for the artists they are trying to promote, with the head of the official fan clubs often having direct access with key people on the management team.

“In the Chinese model of idol adoration, fans are the ones in control of the idol’s reputation and commercial worth – not the idol. And since fan communities are so actively involved in their idol’s brand sponsorships, it also falls on them to attack brands that they perceive to be opposing their idol’s interests,” the South China Morning Post wrote.

“In Xiao’s case, neither the idol nor the brands have done anything wrong, but things went off the rails because of poor fan behaviour.”

There was a period where it appeared as though Xiao Zhan’s career was genuinely over as far as the industry was concerned: dramas he had filmed were being shelved, pre-recorded appearances in variety shows were being edited out, endorsements were dropped like hot potatoes. He — and even his family — were being viciously attacked online over a situation he did not start and had no genuine control over. He was also made the scapegoat for an incalculable loss within the online community.

He retained tremendous fan support in spite of everything, however, with the release of his single ‘Spotlight’ becoming China’s fastest-selling digital single ever, according to Guiness World Records. His single, Made to Love was also number seven on the IFPI’s Top 10 Global Digital Singles Chart for 2020, ahead of Billie Eilish’s Bad Guy and BTS’ Dynamite. And — this is pure speculation on my part — it appears as though perhaps someone at CCTV, China’s main state-controlled broadcaster, thinks well of him. His appearance in September in a small role in the CCTV-backed COVID-19 ensemble drama Heroes in Harm’s Way, followed by several one-off performances on CCTV programming, and the airing of two new dramas seemed like some kind of unspoken signal from the government to everyone else in the industry that he should no longer be treated as a persona non grata.