Quiet on the Sets

Wearing thick cotton gloves, the 28-year-old rushes to harvest thousands of kilograms of peppers in June before packing them for delivery. Just a few months earlier, he had been wearing tailored suits and playing domineering CEOs in hit microdramas.　

"Now, I'm a domineering farmer," he joked.　

Over the past three years, Zhang appeared in nearly 200 microdramas. He comes from a dancing background, and worked his way through minor roles to landing CEO leads in female-oriented romance dramas. His day rate eventually hit 6,000 yuan (US$884).　

But after this year's Spring Festival in February, acting opportunities seemed to suddenly dry up. This change coincided with the launch of Seedance 2.0, ByteDance's AI video generation model, which dramatically improved AI video quality.　

Between February and April, Zhang got just one role, and for one-third his previous rate. Disillusioned, he returned to his hometown in Northwest China's Qinghai Province to farm full time.　

This year, countless microdrama actors like Zhang have been struggling to find work in microdramas. The major reason is AI-generated productions disrupting the entire industry.　

Some 33,000 microdramas were released in all of 2025, according to the National Radio and Television Administration (NRTA). In Q1 2026 alone, about 128,000 microdramas were released, 95 percent of which were AI-generated, said the China Online Audiovisual Association.

During the boom years for live-action microdramas between 2023 and 2025, Zhang was based in Xi'an, Shaanxi Province, one of China's three major production hubs, alongside Hengdian in Zhejiang Province and Zhengzhou in Henan Province.　

To play wealthy CEOs, Zhang bought inexpensive suits because actors were expected to provide their own wardrobe. "I was constantly kneeling for scenes, so my suits wore out quickly," he told NewsChina. "I couldn't afford expensive ones."　

The entire industry was operating at breakneck speed, and microdrama actors worked grueling schedules. Zhang once filmed for three consecutive days with almost no sleep, grabbing only brief naps in taxis between locations. Production crews routinely stocked sets with coffee, energy drinks and even nitroglycerin tablets in case someone suffered a heart attack. He once saw a lead actress collapse during filming and be rushed to hospital.　

But Zhang sensed that something had changed in February. Just before filming was due to begin on a new production, he was told it had been canceled.　

"They simply pulled the plug," Zhang said. "The director even tried to shorten the schedule by a day to save the project, but it didn't work. Everything stopped so suddenly that most people had no idea what was happening."　

That same week, Seedance 2.0 launched on February 12, and microdrama platforms were soon tightening their belts. For many smaller production teams, the previously guaranteed funding of 200,000-300,000 yuan (US$29,400-44,200) for greenlit projects disappeared.　

The industry panicked to reposition itself. Some production companies are paying actors up to several thousand yuan for the rights to digitally reproduce their faces for AI use.　

One actor who requested anonymity told NewsChina that productions now rely almost entirely on AI-generated backgrounds. Human performers appear only to deliver a few lines, while "background extras are barely needed anymore."　

Over the past two and a half years, Wu Weibin, a 39-year-old actor at Hengdian World Studios in Zhejiang, appeared in more than 100 microdramas. Often cast in patriarch roles, he became known as the "King of Hengdian Dads."　

But his kingdom has severely shrunk. "I couldn't land a single role," Wu said. "Everything fell apart."　

He contacted assistant directors, agents and fellow actors of his generation, only to discover they were facing the same reality.　

"My hardships reflect the agony we're all enduring industry wide," he said.　

Other Hengdian extras told NewsChina that more than 100 actors now compete for a single minor role, such as an imperial eunuch. In just three years, Hengdian has gone from the country's busiest microdrama production hub to empty soundstages. Tens of thousands of actors remain there, waiting for auditions that never come.

Yao had previously produced live-action microdramas in Xi'an. Early in the year, he accepted an offer from a leading production company. Eight days later, he was informed his would-be department had been dissolved.　

The only offer left came from a new AI-based studio making animated dramas. "After seeing where the industry was heading, I decided to switch to AI," Yao told NewsChina.　

Now instead of coordinating actors, equipment and locations, Yao sits at a workstation with multiple AI tools. His work involves converting scripts into storyboards, collaborating with artists to generate dozens of 15-second AI video clips and handing them over to editors for assembly.　

The microdrama market peaked at over 100 billion yuan (US$14.7b) in 2025, with viewership reaching nearly 700 million, according to the NRTA. Around 137,000 actors registered with the Hengdian World Studios Actors Guild, nine times the number of the previous year.　

Much of that boom was driven by a generous incentive model: Platforms opened their script libraries to independent studios to pick and choose which to shoot, guaranteeing them up to 350,000 yuan (US$51,500) for completed productions.　

Yao said the model allowed production companies to increase profit margins by controlling costs, which fueled industry expansion.　

But that changed in early January, when platforms cut their minimum guarantees. Suddenly, many studios were facing uncertain revenue streams, suspended orders and canceled productions. This lines up with AI-generated dramas entering the picture.　

AI live-action microdrama Zhan Xian Tai (Execution Ground for Immortals) surpassed 100 million views within six days of its release in January. According to tech media outlet Blue Whale Technology, the project only required a crew of 12 and around 100,000 yuan (US$14,700) in computing costs over a 30-day production period, roughly one-quarter of the total budget for a similar live-action microdrama production.　

Yang Miao, president of Xi'an Qiuyuan Pictures, one of China's leading microdrama studios, said the company fully restructured in March, cutting its staff of around 200 by half. Those who remain work in both live-action and AI productions.　

Yang said a live-action microdrama typically costs 600,000-1 million yuan (US$88,300-147,100) and takes more than a month to complete. By comparison, an AI production can be finished in 10 to 15 days for just 80,000 to 100,000 yuan (US$11,800-14,700).　

But so far, lower costs have not translated into higher profits. "We might earn up to 400,000 yuan (US$58,850) from producing three AI dramas in a month," Yang said. "Previously, a single live-action drama could generate 700,000- 800,000 yuan (US$103,100-110,500)."　

Animated AI drama production peaked in March 2026. According to DataEye, about 180,000 AI dramas were streaming across major platforms by March, including roughly 50,000 new releases that month alone.　

"Animated AI dramas are currently the easiest and fastest field for ordinary creators to transition into," Zhou Tong, head of an AI drama studio in Henan Province, told NewsChina.　

Notably, the vast majority of this year's AI productions are animated, which are not only cheaper to make but cheaper to watch. Looking at the top 100 paid titles on microdrama platform Hongguo, animated AI productions average between 0.5-1 yuan (US$0.07-0.14) per episode. according to industry tracker DataEye. By comparison, AI-generated live-action series are priced similarly to traditional microdramas, between 0.8-2 yuan (US$0.10-0.28), but usually require lower budgets.　

Although AI-generated productions now account for most new releases, they have yet to win over mainstream audiences. According to the NFTA, live-action productions accounted for only about one-fiftieth of new releases during the 2026 Spring Festival period but drew 25 times more viewers than AI dramas.　

Industry data from DataEye paints a similar picture. By the end of February, more than 127,000 AI dramas were available online, but fewer than 150 had gotten more than 100 million views, just over 0.1 percent of the total hitting this benchmark.

"Every lead character looks the same. They all seem to come from the same template," she said. "Their digital faces lack the subtlety and vitality of real actors. Most of the storylines are repetitive and lack originality."　

As celebrities are increasingly litigating against unauthorized AI face cloning, most producers rely on models available in AI libraries. But because these are often limited to around 100 faces, many productions end up with similar-looking characters.　

The viewer said that female protagonists often wear the same outfit throughout an entire series, while characters move stiffly and unnaturally.　

Yao said these shortcomings largely stem from cost cutting.　

"Technical imperfections can be fixed," he said. "But every revision costs money. When budgets are tight, producers assume audiences will tolerate a certain level of imperfection."　

He added that AI productions with larger budgets (costing more than 1,500 yuan (US$220) per minute) can already achieve near-photorealistic results, but much of the market consists of low budget productions costing as little as 100 yuan (US$14) per minute.　

"Audience tolerance varies by genre," Cao Yanzhong, founder of Youhe Culture, a microdrama production company, told NewsChina. "Viewers of male-oriented fantasy dramas, such as dragon lord or war god stories, care more about fast-paced plots and are more forgiving of technical flaws. Audiences for palace intrigue and romance dramas, which mostly comprise women, pay much closer attention to visual details."　

Yao believes AI has weakened the bond between audiences and creators, hurting emotional engagement. "When viewers watch a live-action drama, they appreciate the performances and recognize the effort behind the production," he said. "With AI dramas, their first instinct is to look for signs if it's AI-generated and point out imperfections."　

This focus on the technology makes it much harder to build an emotional connection.　

"AI dramas need much stronger storytelling and emotional hooks," Yao said. "Only then will audiences become immersed enough to forget they're watching AI-generated content."　

In April, several major platforms launched campaigns targeting low-quality AI productions. On June 25, the NRTA issued new guidelines introducing a tiered regulatory system for AI microdramas. Productions with budgets exceeding 800,000 yuan (US$117,700), or those involving sensitive topics such as politics, diplomacy and national security, will face stricter oversight than smaller productions.　

Zhou believes tighter regulation and stricter platform review will encourage studios to put quality over sheer volume.　

"Once low-quality productions are filtered out, the AI drama industry will return to a healthier path of development," he said.　

Despite the recent production boom, Zhou believes public acceptance of AIgenerated dramas will take much longer.　

"Audiences won't embrace AI content overnight," he said. "Just as many successful animated film franchises took more than a decade to gain wider acceptance, AI dramas will also need time to mature."