A recent crackdown on Chinese authors writing erotic webnovels has sparked increased online conversations about the Haitang Literature ‘Flower Market’ subculture, the challenges faced by prominent online smut writers, and the evolving regulations surrounding digital erotica in China. But how serious is the “crime” of writing explicit fiction China today?

You might have heard of haitang (海棠), the Chinese crabapple flower, but chances are you haven’t come across Haitang Literature City (海棠文学城)—and you’re not alone. Most people in China haven’t heard of it either. Haitang Literature City is a Taiwan-based, Chinese-language website dedicated primarily to female-oriented smut fiction, with numerous contributors from mainland China.

‘Smut fiction’ is a genre focused on explicit, sexual content and themes. Stories in this genre often emphasize the physical relationships between characters, with detailed erotic scenes. On Haitang Literature City, the most popular category is BL (Boys’ Love), which centers on romantic and erotic relationships between male characters and is written mainly for a female audience (read more here). The site also features a variety of heterosexual and lesbian stories, ranging from straightforwardly explicit to more unusual narratives. One consistent aspect across the site: most of the authors are women, writing primarily for a female readership.

Example covers of online erotica

Haitang Literature City, known as the ‘Flower Market’ (花市) by its users, has stayed relatively underground within certain reading circles. Recently, however, a help post on Weibo has brought this hidden flower market into the spotlight, sparking considerable buzz online.

The post came from a user named “Rain Painted on a Sunny Day” (@晴天画的雨), the younger sister of the Haitang author known as “Yunjian” (云间, “Between the Clouds”). On October 16, she revealed that Yunjian had been detained since June 20 and is only allowed visits from her lawyer. The arrest notice she shared cites the charge: “suspected of producing and disseminating pornographic materials for profit” (“传播淫秽物品牟利罪”).

Yunjian, a prominent author on Haitang, has been writing for over a decade, producing tens of millions of words. Her detention not only forces her to forfeit all the royalties earned over the past ten years—now labeled “illicit earnings”—but also means she faces time in prison. While “Rain Painted on a Sunny Day” acknowledged her sister’s “offense” in the post, she explained that the resulting heavy fines have left their family deeply in debt, struggling to make ends meet. After the post went up, many of Yunjian’s readers expressed heartbreak over her situation and began donating to help.

Meanwhile, Haitang Literature City, once part of an underground culture, has been brought into the spotlight. “What is Haitang Literature City? Why are the authors on this site charged with the crime of producing and distributing obscene materials? Can someone explain? It feels like a completely different world—I truly have no idea about any of this,” one Weibo user wrote. Ironically, the crackdown on the site has led to greater awareness of it, with Chinese netizens now paying closer attention to the long-standing repression of erotic content authors and the ongoing struggles they face.

MONTHS OF CRACKDOWN

“They’re back to where they started, with nothing to their name”

The crackdown on authors of explicit content from Haitang Literature City began earlier in 2024. Blogger @LXC (@洛曐曟LXC), who has been documenting these events, described how police in Anhui Province launched a cross-provincial operation in June. On June 20, they arrested Haitang distributors along with several of its most successful authors. The Haitang site quickly shut down the next day, citing maintenance. The platform remained offline for several days.

During this shutdown, many authors aware of the arrests requested that their published work be hidden. As a result, Haitang locked down all site content, allowing authors to unblock their works only upon request.

Most of the first batch of arrested authors were released around June 20, with some warning others against writing on Haitang due to the high risks involved. However, this information circulated only within a small group, so few were aware of it. Authors who had earned larger sums from their writing were unable to arrange their release and remained in custody.

How did Haitang respond? Despite being aware of the arrests, the site apparently chose not to inform other authors of the risks, possibly prioritizing profits and readership. Blogger @LXC expressed her frustration with Haitang for misleading authors who were completely unaware of the situation, as well as others who had heard unverified rumors, into unlocking their columns for subscriptions. Seeing this, several smaller authors followed suit and unlocked their works as well.

From late July to early August, another group of authors was summoned by the police. Nearly all of this second batch of arrested authors were among those who had reapplied to unblock their columns after the site had reopened. LXC suggested that the site’s mismanagement and silence about the initial arrests were responsible for these authors getting into trouble.

Yunjian remains one of the authors detained since the initial crackdown in June and has yet to be released. Alongside her, many lesser-known authors are also struggling, with many relying on their writing on Haitang to make ends meet. Among them are stay-at-home moms, low-income students, and young women from rural areas who cannot find work. After all this upheaval, their situations have only worsened, and they are likely in even more dire straits than the more well-known authors.

“To me, it’s straightforward,” @LXC wrote: “These women earned money and, as a result, improved their previously poor lives. Now that money is being taken away from them, they’re back to where they started, with nothing to their name.”

A DECADE-LONG SURVIVAL GAME

“Censorship has reached absurd levels”

This isn’t the first time Chinese online smut writers have been targeted under the country’s strict censorship laws governing pornographic content. Since China launched its “Clean Internet Campaign” in 2014, many smut writers and online fiction platforms have faced consequences. In June 2015, author Ding Yi (丁一) received a suspended three-and-a-half-year sentence for her “explicit” novels on the platform Jinjiang Literature City (晋江文学城). Another writer, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu (墨香铜臭), known for her novel The Untamed and its TV adaptation, was sentenced to three years on “illegal publishing” charges. Although her case didn’t specifically involve “producing and disseminating pornographic materials for profit,” her arrest was still part of the broader anti-pornography campaign due to the erotic themes in her work.

Another well-known BL writer, Tian Yi (天一), faced an even harsher punishment. In 2018, she was sentenced to ten and a half years in prison for her novel Absolute Domination, which included erotic depictions of gay relationships and had earned her around 150,000 yuan ($21,000) from print sales. A young woman who assisted with typesetting was also implicated—she received a four-year sentence and a 10,000-yuan ($1,400) fine for her 3,100-yuan ($430) part-time payment.

While authors have faced relentless crackdowns, websites themselves have also struggled to survive. Jinjiang Literature City (晋江文学城)—a major online fiction platform known for hosting works with mature content—has been shut down and pressured into strict content checks, with some smaller sites shut down entirely. After multiple shutdowns and rounds of scrutiny, Jinjiang became almost hyper-vigilant, enforcing its self-censorship to an extreme. Now, any sensitive terms are automatically replaced with “口口,” as the site pushes to remove anything that might be seen as explicit by the authorities.

Many netizens have pointed out that the “content review guidelines” (link) of the Jinjiang platform are ironically hilarious: “Any depiction below the neck involving intimacy, body parts, sexual acts, sexual thoughts or fantasies, sexual organs, or excessive violence is considered explicit and thus prohibited,” it states. “Even if it’s less direct and more subtle, if the scenes are too lengthy or portray the entire process, they are also counted as explicit content.” Netizens joke that as long as the reviewers think you’re being suggestive, it’s a off limits—censorship has reached absurd levels.

However, readers’ demand for pornographic works hasn’t diminished at all in this decade-long, intense survival game. A quick search for names like “Tian Yi,” “Yunjian,” or “Mr. Shenhai” on Weibo still reveals hundreds, if not thousands, of people actively seeking and sharing resources for their novels.

THE PRICE OF EROTIC CONTENT IN CHINA

“There are people who commit crimes that truly harm others who don’t face such severe sentences”

How serious is the “crime” of writing online smut in China? While Yunjian has yet to be tried or sentenced, online discussions suggest she may face severe punishment. Her royalties over the past decade exceed 250,000 yuan ($35,000), potentially classifying her case as a particularly serious offense under Chinese law for “producing and disseminating pornographic materials for profit,” due to its perceived negative impact on youth and potential to corrupt social morals. This could result in fines of one to five times her earnings and likely a prison sentence of over ten years.

Recent cases indicate similar outcomes: on October 17, a Weibo account called @HuaiBeiLiXinWrongfulCase (@淮北李鑫冤案) posted a plea, revealing that author Li Xin (李鑫), who co-wrote the historical fantasy Six Dynasties with Luo Sen (罗森), was detained on the same charge after earning 300,000 yuan ($42,118) in royalties, which led to a ten-year prison sentence. As a similarly prominent author, Yunjian may face even harsher penalties and potentially an even longer prison term.

Can writing smut really lead to such severe sentences? Some netizens have questioned this, speculating that the heavy penalties might actually be due to alleged money laundering or tax evasion. However, these theories were quickly dismissed: the royalties earned by Haitang authors come from legitimate payments made by actual readers, making money laundering unlikely. As for tax evasion, Haitang is a Taiwanese website and isn’t required to pay taxes to the mainland government. Even if mainland authors were guilty of tax evasion, they would likely just be required to pay back taxes rather than face prison time. Relying on these conspiracy theories to justify harsh penalties seems like a way to avoid addressing deeper issues within the current legal system.

Punishment can be actually be heavy based on various other factors. Some netizens have pointed out that the law states that making a profit of 250,000 yuan ($35,000) or achieving over 250,000 clicks is considered an particularly serious offense, potentially leading to a prison sentence of over ten years. But for online writers, especially prominent authors, reaching 250,000 clicks is relatively easy, which put them significantly at risk for for receiving heavy sentencing.

Moreover, the criteria for determining what actually constitutes ‘pornographic materials’ are quite vague. The family of the detained author Li Xin pointed out on Weibo that Article 367 of the Criminal Law specifies that literary and artistic works with artistic value, even if they contain erotic elements, should not be classified as pornographic. While Li Xin’s novels do feature erotic content, they also include a historical, cultural, military, economic, and social insights, leading to a variety of discussions among online readers.

“If this were truly an obscene novel overall, where would such rich discussions have come from?” The family wondered: “While the book does contain some unapologetic depictions of [sexual] relations, they serve only as parts of the story’s progression and character development. Could this limited content really lead to the moral corruption of ordinary people?”

The biggest controversy here centers on the stark contrast between the punishment for writing smut and for committing far more severe crimes. “Ten years is way too long; there are people who commit crimes that truly harm others who don’t face such severe sentences,” one netizen lamented on Weibo in response to Li Xin’s case.

This frustration resonates widely online. According to Chinese law, sentences for rape usually range from 3 to 10 years, with only exceptionally severe cases—such as those involving minors or resulting in serious injury or death—receiving more than ten years.

Angry netizens complain that recent court decisions on heinous crimes like sexual assault, voyeurism, and domestic violence often result in lighter sentences than what Yunjian is facing. Author @LuoSaiEr (@罗塞迩) highlighted a recent case of a man who recorded 75,000 videos for profit over five years and received only a one-year prison sentence. The stark contrast between the punishment for a smut writer and for actual sexual offenders, regardless of the legal complexities, is hard for the public to accept.

In China’s legal circles, there’s a growing belief that the laws around “producing and disseminating pornographic materials for profit” are seriously outdated, with penalties that often don’t align with the actual harm caused to society. Ever since the Tianyi case, legal experts have pointed out that the sentences don’t reflect the realities of today’s world.

Yet for ordinary people who now struggle to find erotic content, discussing legal reform feels almost pointless. With pop-up ads and QR codes linking to porn sites, hidden cameras in hotel rooms, and private videos being sold in group chats, it’s frustrating to see the law come down so hard on smut writers—who have no real victims—while many actual sex offenders walk free. As one netizen put it, this situation “shames the judiciary and makes it look disgraceful.”

Four months later, Yunjian remains in detention. With the support of donations from concerned netizens, her family has overcome their worst financial struggles and no longer accepts contributions. But for them—and for every writer and reader affected by this case—the fight for justice and their right to create still feels like a long, uncertain road ahead.

By Ruixin Zhang

Follow @whatsonweibo

Independently covering digital China for over a decade. Like what we do? Support us and get the story behind the hashtag by subscribing:

Subscribe

edited for clarity by Manya Koetse

Spotted a mistake or want to add something? Please let us know in comments below or email us. First-time commenters, please be patient – we will have to manually approve your comment before it appears.

©2024 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.

The recent marriage announcement of the renowned Chinese calligrapher/painter Fan Zeng and Xu Meng, a Beijing TV presenter 50 years his junior, has sparked online discussions about the life and work of the esteemed Chinese artist. Some netizens think Fan lacks the integrity expected of a Chinese scholar-artist.

Recently, the marriage of a 86-year-old Chinese painter to his bride, who is half a century younger, has stirred conversations on Chinese social media.

The story revolves around renowned Chinese artist, calligrapher, and scholar Fan Zeng (范曾, 1938) and his new spouse, Xu Meng (徐萌, 1988). On April 10, Fan announced their marriage through an online post accompanied by a picture.

In the picture, Fan is seen working on his announcement in calligraphic form.

Fan Zeng announces his marriage on Chinese social media.

In his writing, Zeng shares that the passing of his late wife, three years ago, left him heartbroken, and a minor stroke also hindered his work. He expresses gratitude for Xu Meng’s care, which he says led to his physical and mental recovery. Zeng concludes by expressing hope for “everlasting harmony” in their marriage.

Fan Zeng is a calligrapher and poet, but he is primarily recognized as a contemporary master of traditional Chinese painting. Growing up in a well-known literary family, his journey in art began at a young age. Fan studied under renowned mentors at the Academy of Fine Arts in Beijing, including Wu Zuoren, Li Keran, Jiang Zhaohe, and Li Kuchan.

Fan gained global acclaim for his simple yet vibrant painting style. He resided in France, showcased his work in numerous exhibitions worldwide, and his pieces were auctioned at Sotheby’s and Christie’s in the 1980s.^[1] One of Fan’s works, depicting spirit guardian Zhong Kui (钟馗), was sold for over 6 million yuan (828,000 USD).

Zhong Kui in works by Fan Zeng.

In his later years, Fan Zeng transitioned to academia, serving as a lecturer at Nankai University in Tianjin. At the age of 63, he assumed the role of head of the Nankai University Museum of Antiquities, as well as holding various other positions from doctoral supervisor to honorary dean.

By now, Fan’s work has already become part of China’s twentieth-century art history. Renowned contemporary scholar Qian Zhongshu once remarked that Fan “excelled all in artistic quality, painting people beyond mere physicality.”

 
A questionable “role model”
 

Fan’s third wife passed away in 2021. Later, he got to know Xu Meng, a presenter at China Traffic Broadcasting. Allegedly, shortly after they met, he gifted her a Ferrari, sparking the beginning of their relationship.

A photo of Xu and her Hermes Birkin 25 bag has also been making the rounds on social media, fueling rumors that she is only in it for the money (the bag costs more than 180,000 yuan / nearly 25,000 USD).

On Weibo, reactions to the news of Fan’s marriage to Xu Meng, his fourth wife, reveal that the renowned artist is not particularly well-liked among netizens. Despite Fan’s reputation as a prominent philanthropist, many perceive his recent marriage as yet another instance of his lack of integrity and shamelessness.

Fan Zeng and Xu Meng. Image via Weibo.

One popular blogger (@好时代见证记录者) sarcastically wrote:

“Warm congratulations to the 86-year-old renowned contemporary erudite scholar and famous calligrapher Fan Zeng, born in 1938, on his marriage to Ms Xu Meng, a 50 years younger 175cm tall woman who is claimed to be China’s number one golden ratio beauty. Mr Fan Zeng really is a role model for us middle-aged greasy men, as it makes us feel much less uncomfortable when we’re pursuing post-90s youngsters as girlfriends and gives us an extra shield! Because if contemporary Confucian scholars [like yourself] are doing this, then we, as the inheritors of Confucian culture, can surely do the same!“

Various people criticize the fact that Xu Meng is essentially just an aide to Fan, as she can often be seen helping him during his work. One commenter wrote: “Couldn’t he have just hired an assistant? There’s no need to turn them into a bed partner.”

Others think it’s strange for a supposedly scholarly man to be so superficial: “He just wants her for her body. And she just wants him for his inheritance.”

“It’s so inappropriate,” others wrote, labeling Fan as “an old bull grazing on young grass” (lǎoniú chī nèncǎo 老牛吃嫩草).

Fan is not the only well-known Chinese scholar to ‘graze on young grass.’ The famous Chinese theoretical physicist Yang Zhenning (杨振宁, 1922), now 101 years old, also shares a 48-year age gap with his wife Weng Fen (翁帆). Fan, who is a friend of Yang’s, previously praised the love between Yang and Weng, suggesting that she kept him youthful.

Older photo posted on social media, showing Fan attending the wedding ceremony of Yang Zhenning and his 48-year-younger partner Weng Fen.

Some speculate that Fan took inspiration from Yang in marrying a significantly younger woman. Others view him as hypocritical, given his expressions of heartbreak over his previous wife’s passing, and how there’s only one true love in his lifetime, only to remarry a few years later.

Many commenters argue that Fan Zeng’s conduct doesn’t align with that of a “true Confucian scholar,” suggesting that he’s undeserving of the praise he receives.

 
“Mr. Wang from next door”
 

In online discussions surrounding Fan Zeng’s recent marriage, more reasons emerge as to why people dislike him.

Many netizens perceive him as more of a money-driven businessman rather than an idealistic artist. They label him as arrogant, critique his work, and question why his pieces sell for so much money. Some even allege that the only reason he created a calligraphy painting of his marriage announcement is to profit from it.

Others cast doubt on his status as a Chinese calligraphy ‘grandmaster,’ noting that his calligraphy style is not particularly impressive and may contain typos or errors. His wedding announcement calligraphy appears to blend traditional and simplified characters.

Netizens have pointed out what looks like errors or typos in Fan’s calligraphy.

Another source of dislike stems from his history of disloyalty and his feud with another prominent Chinese painter, Huang Yongyu (黄永玉). Huang, who passed away in 2023, targeted Fan Zeng in some of his satirical paintings, including one titled “When Others Curse Me, I Also Curse Others” (“人骂我，我亦骂人”). He also painted a parrot, meant to mock Fan Zeng’s unoriginality.

Huang Yongyu made various works targeting Fan Zeng.

In retaliation, Fan produced his own works mocking Huang, sparking an infamous rivalry in the Chinese art world. The two allegedly almost had a physical fight when they ran into each other at the Beijing Hotel.

Fan Zeng mocked Huang Yongyu in some of his works.

Fan and Huang were once on good terms though, with Fan studying under Huang at the Central Academy of Fine Arts in Beijing. Through Huang, Fan was introduced to the renowned Chinese novelist Shen Congwen (沈从文, 1902-1988), Huang’s first cousin and lifelong friend. As Shen guided Fan in his studies and connected him with influential figures in China’s cultural circles, their relationship flourished.

However, during the Cultural Revolution, when Shen was accused of being a ‘reactionary,’ Fan Zeng turned against him, even going as far as creating big-character posters to criticize his former mentor.^[2] This betrayal not only severed the bond between Shen and Fan but also ended Fan’s friendship with Huang, and it is still remembered by people today.

Fan Zeng’s behavior towards another former mentor, the renowned painter Li Kuchan (李苦禪, 1899-1983), was also controversial. Once Fan gained fame, he made it clear that he no longer respected Li as his teacher. Li later referred to Fan as “a wolf in sheep’s clothes,” and apparently never forgave him. Although the exact details of their falling out remain unclear, some blame Fan for exploiting Li to further his own career.

There are also some online commenters who call Fan Zeng a “Mr Wang from next door” (隔壁老王), a term jokingly used to refer to the untrustworthy neighbor who sleeps with one’s wife. This is mostly because of the history of how Fan Zeng met his third wife.

Fan’s first wife was the Chinese female calligrapher Lin Xiu (林岫), who came from a wealthy family. During this marriage, Fan did not have to worry about money and focused on his artistic endeavours. The two had a son, but the marriage ended in divorce after a decade. Fan’s second wife was fellow painter Bian Biaohua (边宝华), with whom he had a daughter. It seems that Bian loved Fan much more than he loved her.

It is how he met his third wife that remains controversial to this day. Nan Li (楠莉), formerly named Zhang Guiyun (张桂云), was married to performer Xu Zunde (须遵德). Xu was a close friend of Fan, and helped him out when Fan was still poor and trying to get by while living in Beijing’s old city center.

Wanting to support Fan’s artistic talent, Xu let Fan Zeng stay over, supported him financially, and would invite him for meals. Little did he know that while Xu was away to work, Fan enjoyed much more than meals alone; Fan and Xu’s wife engaged in a secret decade-long affair.

When the affair was finally exposed, Xu Zunde divorced his wife. Still, they would use his house to meet and often locked him out. Three years later, Nan Li officially married Fan Zeng. Xu not only lost his wife and friend but also ended up finding his house emptied, his two sons now bearing Fan’s surname.

When Nan Li passed away in 2021, Fan Zeng published an obituary that garnered criticism. Some felt that the entire text was actually more about praising himself than focusing on the life and character of his late wife, with whom he had been married for forty years.

Fan Zeng and his four wives

An ‘old pervert’, a ‘traitor’, a ‘disgrace’—there are a lot of opinions circulating about Fan that have come up this week.

Despite the negativity, a handful of individuals maintain a positive outlook. A former colleague of Xu Meng writes: “If they genuinely like each other, age shouldn’t matter. Here’s to wishing them a joyful marriage.”

By Manya Koetse

Follow @whatsonweibo