Gay 小说

"I've been cautioned against discussing this," the author confided, divulging fragments of the day she alleges she was apprehended for publishing gay erotic narratives.

"I'll never forget the indignity of being led away in public, the demeaning requirement to disrobe before strangers for inspection, the forced donning of a vest for photographic records, the trembling in my chair, the pounding of my heart."

The pen name, Pingping Anan Yongfu, is just one of at least eight who, in recent months, have shared accounts on Weibo, the Chinese social media platform, of being arrested for disseminating gay erotic fictional works. As these authors articulated their experiences, a large number of lawyers offered pro bono assistance.

At least thirty authors, almost exclusively young women in their twenties, have been apprehended nationwide since February, a lawyer defending one recounted to the BBC. Many have been released on bail or are awaiting trial; some remain incarcerated. Another lawyer informed the BBC that significantly more contributors were summoned for questioning.

They had published their work on Haitang Literature City, a platform hosted in Taiwan, famed for its "danmei" genre, which encompasses narratives of romantic, often erotic, relationships between men.

Consider it a gay counterpart to Fifty Shades of Grey: a BDSM connection that culminates in a blissful union. This trope frequently appears, regardless of historical, fantastical, or science-fiction settings. The genre has gained a devoted following, predominantly among young Chinese women.

These writers are accused of violating China's pornography law, specifically for "producing and distributing offensive material". Profiting from these activities could incur a prison sentence exceeding ten years.

The law targets "explicit descriptions of homosexual relationships or other atypical sexual activities". Heterosexual content typically receives less scrutiny; for example, works by renowned Chinese authors, including the Nobel Laureate Mo Yan, feature explicit scenes but remain readily accessible.

Although authors of heterosexual erotica have faced prosecution in China, observers note significantly less censorship in that genre. Gay erotic works, which often possess more challenging thematic elements, seem to elicit a stronger response from authorities. Volunteers in a support group for Haitang writers reported that authorities even questioned readers.

Those who recounted being arrested declined interviews, fearing further ramifications. Authorities in Lanzhou, the northwestern city under suspicion for orchestrating this crackdown, have not responded to BBC inquiries.

Online discussions have been ignited by this crackdown - and a rare counter-narrative is emerging.

"Is sex genuinely something to be ashamed of?" one Weibo user questioned, challenging the validity of China's anti-obscenity laws. Another user expressed the opinion that women are consistently denied the agency to determine the nature of what constitutes obscenity since they are not often the architects of the narratives.

Even legal experts voice concern about a potential overreach in defining "distribution" based on just 5,000 views of deemed "obscene" material. This significantly lowers the threshold for criminal charges against content creators.

This has prompted unease in Beijing; discussions about HaitangAuthorsArrested, which drew more than thirty million views on Weibo, have vanished. Posts offering legal support have vanished. A prominent Chinese news organization's article was removed. Authors' accounts, along with some associated handles, are also vanishing.

After Pingping Anan Yongfu's post went viral, she deleted it, then published another, expressing gratitude for support and acknowledging that her writing had transgressed the law. She promptly removed her handle.

Prior to that final post, she wrote: "I was always the ideal daughter in my parents' eyes. However, that day, I brought them nothing but disgrace. They'll never again hold their heads high."

These women have long operated in obscurity in China, where homosexuality and eroticism remain stigmatized. Now exposed by police investigations, they confront social repercussions as harsh as the legal ones.

"All I felt was mortification," posted a writer whose Weibo handle translates to "the world is a large psychiatric facility." She recounted that police removed her from her college classroom—with her classmates observing—and then escorted her to her dorm for a search.

"I meticulously constructed my earnings from my keyboard. However, when things went south, none of that seemed to matter. People judged me as though I had amassed wealth dishonestly."

Another reported that police were courteous, advising her to contact a lawyer and return her "illegal gains" to mitigate her potential penalty. "I am only twenty. So young, and I have already damaged my life so early."

A third author expressed: "I never conceived that one day every word I had ever written would become my bane."

A writer who has been penning danmei novels for two decades was not questioned but declares that the crackdown will not deter her. "It's my source of happiness. I can't abandon the relationships I've forged within the community."

Inspired by Japanese boys' love manga, danmei developed as a subgenre online in the 1990s. The genre has achieved remarkable international success, with some novels ranking on international bestseller lists.

In 2021, sixty danmei novels were licensed for film and television adaptations. The most costly intellectual property reportedly sold for forty million yuan ($5.6 million; £4.1 million). Prominent Chinese celebrities, including Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo, launched their careers with streaming series based on danmei novels.

In essence, it's the rebellious queen of pop culture—too popular to overlook, too contentious to endorse.

Aptly, Haitang, which translates to a flower blooming in every shade of pink, is the perfect setting for the blossoming of both the flower and the danmei genre.

Precisely, Haitang and danmei have blossomed as exceptionally feminine domains, even if they depict male protagonists. In a society where female desire is frequently scrutinized, danmei has become a disguised, creative outlet - a space where women can explore feminine desires for other women.

That precisely embodies danmei's "subversive" nature, observes Dr Liang Ge, a digital sociology professor at University College London. It enables women to detach from their prescribed gender roles, often associated with marriage and motherhood.

For instance, in danmei stories, men can conceive and exhibit vulnerability - a marked departure from the frequently unequal dynamics many Chinese women grapple with in real life.

"Danmei liberates me from contemplating the potential risks of relationships in traditional heterosexual romantic narratives," explains one writer with a decade of experience in the danmei world.

Danmei novels are not without criticism, as some contain extreme and violent scenes. "As a parent, how many of us can countenance our children reading such novels, let alone composing them?" asked a Weibo user.

The age of the authors is a concern as well: several who spoke to the BBC indicated they began reading and writing gay erotic content before the age of eighteen, some as young as eleven.

This is a problem the community needs to acknowledge and address, advised Ma, a danmei writer who provided only her surname, adding that this issue applies to all adult content given China's lack of age restrictions.

However, danmei has faced heightened scrutiny during the past decade as Beijing has launched multiple campaigns to regulate online content. In 2018, a danmei author was imprisoned for ten years for selling 7,000 copies of her book, titled "Occupy".

As marriage and birth rates decline, and President Xi Jinping champions a national revival, state attention on danmei has intensified, notes Dr. Ge.

"The Chinese government seeks to promote traditional family values, and engaging with danmei novels is viewed as contributing to women's diminished inclination towards childbearing," explains Dr. Ge.

This constitutes the second wave of extensive arrests in less than a year. Around fifty Haitang writers faced prosecution late last year. A famous author, earning approximately 1.85 million yuan, was imprisoned for nearly five years.

These two crackdowns display similar characteristics, a lawyer representing some defendants last year notes, "but this time, not even those with minimal involvement were spared."

A lawyer offering free legal advice received over 150 consultations in just two days. Many contacting her had not yet been formally charged but were nonetheless filled with fear about the potential consequences.

"This is a classic case of overzealous enforcement by local authorities," says a lawyer who authored a practical guide for Haitang writers. The term refers to a situation where local police, specifically those in Lanzhou, summoned writers from diverse regions, arguably beyond their jurisdictional authority.

Many authors reported incurring substantial out-of-pocket expenses for travel to Lanzhou. One author posted that two books on Haitang, generating 2,000 yuan, covered the cost of their flight.

Last year's arrests were also conducted by authorities in Jixi County, eastern China.

Historically, local governments facing financial constraints have employed similar tactics to generate revenue through fines, sometimes requiring intervention from the central government. Cybercrimes are especially prone to such practices, particularly when local authorities claim a resident was corrupted by online content.

Danmei writers understand that tolerance can be capricious. Hence, they employ coded language to circumvent censorship; "preparing dinner" implies sexual activity, "kitchen implement" is a term for male genitals.

Nevertheless, the recent crackdown profoundly shocked them. "A phone call shattered my aspirations," described one writer's experience with the police call.

They allege police searched their phones without a warrant. The alleged offense was calculated by adding the views of each chapter, a method they argue to be misleading, potentially inflating the perceived readership.

Another danmei author wrote: "I contributed to Haitang for years, with only a few readers. Then, these overlooked stories accumulated over 300,000 page views, and the 4,000 yuan in royalties in my account became proof of my wrongdoing."

It's difficult to predict whether this event signifies the end of their writing careers on Haitang.

"If I could relive those moments, I would still choose to write. And I will keep writing," posted the handle Sijin de Sijin.

"Right now, I can only hope the law transcends the words on the page—and sees the woman who forwent meals to save money, the woman who sold her hair to acquire a pen, the woman who believed her thoughts could forge a path through destiny. I pray they grant us a fair judgment."

Additional reporting by Grace Tsoi in Hong Kong