14. Let's Not Farm Actually
14. Let's Not Farm Actually
Agricultural Produce 101
Hi there. Welcome to Active Faults.
Earlier this year I caught wind of neiyu’s first agricultural reality show releasing a much anticipated second season. My issue with 种地吧 then was its all-male cast that perpetuates gender stereotypes and the sure-fire co-opting of its concept for soft propaganda, glazing over the hardships of China’s bottom 99% under the guise of prosperity.
Turns out I lost the plot pretty quickly. Their downfall in the past week is much, much more complicated.
It all began with a Weibo post. As this season draws to a close, Let’s Farm’s official account put out a fan letter that read like it was written in the Notes app. The heart-to-heart feels phony from start to finish. The unnamed Producer pens the following:
Maybe you didn’t know this, but we pitched the programme to a lot of platforms. The cost of the year-long preparation period and filming was too high that everybody was slamming their doors. They said that it’s not gonna hit, it’s not worth it and no one’s going to watch it. Eventually it was iQiyi that stood up and gave this show a chance. All the investors took on the risk of financial loss and made the first season. This is the “devilish capitalists” some of you termed. Without the decision of iQiyi, this programme is unlikely to be on screen at all.
At this point, “禾伙人” or “Farming Partners”, the fandom of Let’s Farm, is already irked by the sycophantic tone. The opening is too obvious of a suck-up that exaggerates iQiyi’s contribution to the show’s success. Partners claim that the streaming platform paid it no heed when the cast were nobodies in season 1. Fans were the ones who bought and generated Weibo hot searches, gave it high ratings on social media sites and recommended it in their circles. Higher traffic and better reputation of the sequel are the direct result of organised fan action. They were hefting up the promotions on iQiyi’s behalf, hence the name of “partners” as they were literally part of their project.
Here’s more context. iQiyi maxed out the amount of product placement for this season that significantly grates on the viewing experience. I believe the exact figure is 26 brand sponsors including L’Oreal, Midea and more, ranking No.1 across all neiyu shows in 2024. Advertising revenue of season two had an 80% increase when compared to season 1. Partners were already complaining that with every five minutes of farming comes an advert or a soft advert, “口播”, that features a cast member verbally name-dropping a product or brand in the content.
On the other hand, iQiyi has been upping its subscription fees as well as introducing additional charges for “exclusive content”, forcing viewers to cave and pay. It renders fans as “garlic chives” who are relentlessly exploited for profit and worse, deceived, because the show’s whole premise is the complete opposite. It is supposed to centre around the regenerative power of nature, the tenderness of the soil, the merits of a simpler, slower, self-sufficient life and the purity of human connection when stripped bare of market logic. All of this seems to be forgotten after it has become a commercial hit.
Adding fuel to fire, the letter goes on to insinuate that it is time for the original cast, “十个勤天” (The Hardworking Ten) to step down from the show. The boys need to make space for other “comrades” to join in and pass on the legacy, so the story can continue.
“Is The Hardworking Ten important? Yes! But farming is more important. Letting more people see [the importance of] farming is more important!” so they claim.
Attention: we’re approaching the epicenter of this quake of outrage. The Partners find the potential replacement unacceptable. Arguments swing from the angle of artistic coherence to fairness as well as practicality. The strawberry fields they dedicated a season to are barely sustainable, so the narrative arc would go bust with new cast members. It’s unfair for others to reap what they sowed in their absence. People tune in for their chemistry that holds the show together and constitute its popularity.
On second look, what the Partners are actually faulting with is traffic tail-gating. This letter comes after a public recruitment notice for season 3 that calls for applicants who specialises in agricultural studies. The producers are seemingly casting talents with relevent knowledge and background, but fans quickly discover that this notice was also posted on the official account of Sichuan Film and Television University. If farming is really important, why are they blatantly acquiring idol-wannabes from a film school? It became clear that the crew (and iQiyi) wanted to free-ride on the high tide of Let’s Farm as well as the Hardworking Ten to groom another generation of traffic dolls. Later, fans found a leaked pitch deck of iQiyi’s overseas marketing strategy that branded the show as an “agricultural Produce 101” all along. After the demise of xuanxiu, the platform tried to replicate the lucrative idol-making paradigm in a safer racetrack. Much like how Simon Cowell revealed lately that he wished he owned the name “One Direction” to continue making boybands.
Of course, the fans feel the injustice on their behalf. The Hardworking Ten didn’t even receive a salary for filming season 1 and the bare minimum for season 2. The company registered in their name listed two producers of the show as primary shareholders without mentioning their share. Now, in the name of passing on the legacy, those 10 boys are pushed aside and abandoned after being drained of their use. I see how many see themselves in their shoes, becoming “optimised” (优化, a corporate euphemism for employee cuts to optimise efficiency) after 35 and replaced by newer bolts in the capitalist machine.
The simmering anger eventually erupts because of the letter’s extremely condescending voice. Chicken-Soup quotes were interspersed with high-brow slogan-chanting, characterising Let’s Farm as a show driven by a wish for our “motherland to thrive” (为了祖国繁荣昌盛). It pleas for the Partners to behave and adopt a panoramic view of the situation that sounds more like a reproach of their short-sightedness.
I haven’t even gotten to the most face palm-worthy decision they made yet. The last few paragraphs read as a tirade that criticises the “irrational behaviour” of some Partners like “chart-beating, voting, doing data, fighting, deducing with malicious intent, depleting public resources”. That the Hardworking Ten should help you become better selves, not someone who “wastes their effort” on “malicious rumour-spreading, harrassment, report-filing calls, airport fanning that affects public order”. All fan service undone.
This was the last straw. The fans have had enough of this “爹味小作文” (patriarchal-lecturing piece) as it is. Many called this the worst PR manoeuvre of the year as the official account of Let’s Farm lost over 850K followers in two days and about a million in a week. This fierce shunning got the fans to apply for a Guinness World Record for “fastest unfollowing” to further shame the crew. The Partners made their awareness-raising posts trend on Weibo, rearing for a boycott of upcoming seasons and a serious apology for the attack on their support of the show. We are consumers and activists first and foremost, they asserted.
Like how the producers used nationalistic language to threaten fans, the Partners retaliated using the same trick and called the show a violation of the common people by “擦边国家红”, milking nationalism for attention and profits. They present themselves in alignment with regulations and policies that banned xuanxiu, calling iQiyi out for breaching Qing Lang and siding with authorities to play the safest card. It’s incredibly clever.
All of these fan sentiments point towards what AF has been discussing lately: an all-encompassing and widespread hostility towards entertainment, celebrities and the label of fans. Even while arguing that the Hardworking Ten should stay on the show, some went as far as saying that they were shitty at their day jobs anyway. They hardly stand a chance in neiyu without the leading strings of the franchise and the aura of the group. It is a toxic industry that does not guarantee visibility, especially when you’re mediocre at best. You’re lucky enough to be loved by us as famous farmers instead.
Fandom now adamantly resists it all and Let’s Farm is a case in point. The injustice, the privilege and manufactured hype, the crazy-shaming. Let’s Farm was a utopia, the most non-neiyu thing you could’ve ever conjured within neiyu where no one was famous enough and nothing was fake. They reap with love and seeds will grow. I reap with love and seeds will grow.
It came as a disappointment when the eldest in the Hardworking Ten released a statement as damage control, essentially pacifying the Partners and siding with the producers. A fan wrote in confusion that it made them feel like all those screaming and shouting was for nothing. The producers apologised in the end but it was already too late. No one offered any explanation regarding sequels, casts or any of the concerns raised by fans. I’m suspicious of a return.