LayarHijau – Chinese entertainment media recently Sohu published an in-depth report examining the pressures and controversies surrounding the “traffic star” phenomenon—celebrities whose popularity is driven largely by devoted fanbases and constant media attention. At the heart of the feature was actress Zhao Lusi, whose recent experiences were detailed alongside insights from other actors, producers, screenwriters, and crew members, painting a broader picture of the industry’s demanding environment.
Zhao Lusi, best known for her sweet romantic dramas, has recently been embroiled in a dispute with her agency, Galaxy Cool Entertainment. In a livestream on Xiaohongshu, she spoke candidly about her personal experiences—denying plastic surgery rumors, recalling a scam that led to her being sued, sharing news of her father’s cancer diagnosis and her grandfather’s death, and even describing unusual moments on set, such as crew members hiring a “specialist” to perform a ritual to drive away spirits. She also reminisced about her very first paycheck—just 2,500 yuan (about USD 340).
The report made it clear that Zhao’s situation is far from unique. China’s so-called “star factory” system—rapidly producing celebrities through heavy promotion, casting them in leading roles in high-profile projects, and carefully crafting public images—often churns out talent before they are truly ready, sending them straight into the market, working relentlessly, and keeping them glued to social media.
A veteran producer noted, “Many popular artists get anxious if they don’t immediately take on a new project. They fear the spotlight will move on, and they’ll fade from public view.” This feeds into the industry’s “black and red” cycle—a phenomenon where stars are equally famous for the hate they receive, often fueled by controversy. In some cases, agencies deliberately exploit scandals to keep attention high.
Another actor interviewed, a young male star who once headlined a popular youth drama, admitted that his schedule left no time for proper rest. “As soon as one drama wrapped, I had to start script readings for the next one the very next day. If you take too long a break, the audience forgets you. The pressure is real,” he said.
A rising costume drama actress echoed the sentiment. “People think we live glamorous lives, but behind the scenes, we work 16 hours a day. Sometimes, we eat while changing costumes,” she revealed.
Producer Yuanyuan, also featured in the report, pointed to the shifting expectations of audiences. “With paid subscription services, viewers feel entitled to demand quality. They quickly spot fake performances. One failed drama can destroy a reputation that took years to build.”
A veteran screenwriter added that the industry has lost patience in nurturing talent. “Everyone wants instant results: agencies want fast profits, producers want quick releases, and actors want rapid fame. We’re forced to write scripts in unrealistic timeframes. Quality inevitably suffers.”
The report also underscored the huge commercial value of traffic stars. Zhao reportedly commanded advertising fees of around 20 million yuan (about USD 2.7 million), while a leading man in a hit drama could earn 3 million yuan (about USD 408,000) for a single variety show appearance. The lure of quick money often tempts stars and agencies to neglect improving their acting skills.
In Zhao’s case, legal efforts to resolve her contract dispute with her agency have stalled, prompting her to use social media to rally public opinion. While effective in keeping her name in the headlines, the move also highlighted how fragile a celebrity’s position can be when up against a system driven by fast profits over sustainable careers.
Several other stars in the report admitted that, despite the exhausting nature of the system, they feel trapped for fear of losing relevance. One male actor with over a decade in the business said, “We used to be able to rest for a year after a successful drama. Now, if you disappear for just three months, people assume you’re finished.”
That leaves bigger questions lingering: Who is truly footing the bill to create traffic stars? And how can the industry refocus on quality and longevity? Until those questions are answered, the star factory will continue to produce new names—each with stories not so different from Zhao Lusi’s: dazzling under the lights, yet constantly chased by shadows behind the scenes.
