17. Speculations of a Military Wife

What if men in Chinese entertainment get conscripted too?

Hi there. Welcome to Active Faults.

Last Thursday, I became a “military wife” fan as Yoon Jeonghan of SEVENTEEN officially enlisted, the first out of 8 group members, to fulfil his mandatory service in the South Korean defence forces. I will spare you the details of the seven stages of grief I went through to process this inevitability that every K-Pop fan battles with at some stage. 

But it did get me to wonder: what if, just what if, men in Chinese entertainment get conscripted too?

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I’ve mentioned a budding theory before: conscription is a built-in success factor of the K-Pop industry. It is directly responsible for the electrifying storm of boy groups that swept across continents because it gives those immaculate faces a deadline and their career a shelf life. Time is quite literally not on their side. If they don’t sweat their brains out on stage and secure a loyal entourage before they disappear into the trenches, they will experience something far worse than enforced unemployment: unjustifiable and premature anonymity. 

And so they work as the clock ticks. Conscription will most probably embroil neiyu in an even more ungovernable form of consumerism the world has never seen before. It will spur malicious competition, outrageous acts of artist and fan exploitation, as well as further deterioration of media content quality. Get money, quick, and everything else ceases to matter, because there’s likely not a second round.

Management companies might kick up some twisted tricks like a fan auction of celebrity possessions before enlistment rolls around to feed on the desperation. They might build an AI version of the guy, recreating the movie “Her” (2013) into “The Enlisted Him”. Partner up with Otome games and VR glasses makers to digitise him during his service and continue monetising his persona. Elitise the software into Super-Fan subscription only, proven by the number of albums bought. Hell, recruit some “overcooked” ex-idol trainees as fan service consultants who can condition the LLM into providing the most palatable, realistic illusions. 

Up will rise a whole new line of work that specialises in the fabrication of celebrity enlistment records. I’m not sure how it can be achieved, but I know it will happen. Someone will go in an A-lister’s place as a military stunt double, and the real guy shoots off to the Maldives for a long holiday. Ripe materials for a Dystopian A24 film about identities and privileges. A few more years down the line, he’d get asked about his “service” on a random talk show and stutter. House-falling and disappearance. 

Idols will probably become extinct. A dead profession made even deader by an expiry date that most families wouldn’t let their son indulge in, even if he is the youngest, most precious jewel they waited for after three unwanted daughters. If the profession doesn’t go bust, it will become the playground of the “二代” (nepo babies of all kinds of backgrounds) who are merely dabbling in entertainment to quell their existential ennui, true Dorian Gray style. They might even be able to buy their way out of enlistment, because there’s always a way to do that. 

On the other hand, conscription might mean something entirely different for neiyu actors. It might jolt them into caution as they select projects that can leave a lasting impression. Work hard, but work few and far between. Draw the longest straw out of all the short stalks. Or, it might drive them into cameos in Douyin mini-dramas. They’d rely on an endless stream of microscopic exposures in the public’s eyes to sustain their fame since their day job is due to be paused. Their careers would be reduced to moments of virality, not dissimilar to influencers or the pan-celebrities in the peripherals. The boundary will become increasingly blurred.

Misogyny, homophobia and transphobia will hit a new peak, because we clearly need more of it, if the most sanctified form of masculinity returns. The natural order of things is finally restored. Shave off their wavy locks and rub out the eyeliner. Buzzcuts, bulk up, brag about the actress they owned in the bedroom. No more “娘炮”, “媚粉”, and pretending to be in love with your dangai co-star. Tolerating nisu fans who call you wifey is out, disciplining and rough-talking the fans is probably in. 

Sexual fantasies in fanquan might take on a sadomasochistic edge. A lot of young girls are already crushing on their Commander (教官) when they go through “军训”, mandatory military-styled training for Chinese students in secondary schools. Xiaohongshu would see deep fakes of their favourite celebrities in military uniforms, roleplaying a figure of authority who borderline abuses them in the name of being kinky. 

There is an even more interesting question to ask: will men enter fanquan at last? Neiyu men are finally real men. Cai Xukun is finally a downtrodden fluke. Imagine young boys fanning over a conscripted celebrity and aspiring towards him, because heterosexual male culture is ultimately “man-loving”? What would the demographic of fanquan be like then, and how would we interact with each other?

Fan wars would become a debate on whose idol is a more competent soldier. How will they prove it without officially disclosed statistics? I’m sure the military will make incredibly cringeworthy reels featuring these big names undergoing training, as an advertisement for conscription and the glorious armed forces. Fans might be encouraged to get “爱豆同款” camouflage face paint on Taobao or visit military museums in fondness.

All the while, neiyu men will need to hide their reluctance and exaggerate their excitement to serve our beloved motherland, protect Diaoyu Dao from foreign intruders and participate in the Great Unification. Ramp up the reposts of People’s Daily.

The celebrities’ relationship with the regime will complicate even further: to what extent are they going to conform? A common prospect at the end of military service is a job within the System (体制内), a broad term for politics. Will they choose bianzhi over a return to entertainment? To further rise in the party by mobilising their resources and fans (or what’s left of them)? If they do return to their day jobs, will they adopt traits of the “厅局风” boyfriend (an administrative ranking in China’s civil service hierarchy) that social media has been obsessing over, because it is a sign of wealth and power?

The System will surely seize the opportunity to train neiyu men into better mouthpieces. A smart way of doing it won’t be through brutish coercion but briberies. Because it is a men-only clause and men must not suffer under any circumstances, conscription might be made into a long holiday that every celebrity longs for. Special barracks, eating abalones and lobsters for dinner like the current national footballers. Keep the secret and sing praises for generations to come. 

I’d like to imagine that some will revolt and resist. Enlistment entails the loss of brand ambassadorships and other sources of income, the glam, the applause and attention. Will they sit through that dissatisfaction obediently? When Uyghur rappers like Air (艾热) enlist, how will they rationalise what they’ve seen and what they’re told? When the death metal enthusiasts from the Big Band enlist, will they mourn that rock has died?