The path of transformation from a traffic-driven star to a serious actress has been a long one for Yang Mi.
From the early setback with Baby (宝贝儿) to the controversy around last year's In the Name of the Brother (哈尔滨一九四四), every attempt she made to step closer to the label of "actress of the people" came with scrutiny, heated discussion, and doubt.
This year feels like a subtle turning point. She's Got No Name (酱园弄·悬案) and The Lychee Road (长安的荔枝) helped reverse public opinion, while her latest drama This Thriving Land (生万物) is delivering strong results. After three stumbles in a row followed by three consecutive successes, the question is: how close is Yang Mi to achieving a genuine breakthrough?
The Success of This Thriving Land
This Thriving Land stands as Yang Mi's most important step so far.
Earlier this year, both The Murder in the House of Chaos and The Lychee Road were released, and even though Yang Mi only played supporting roles, they earned her positive reviews.
In The Murder in the House of Chaos, her portrayal of Wang Xumei was highlighted as one of the rare bright spots in a film that only scored 5.7 on Douban (a major Chinese rating platform similar to IMDb). Some viewers even called it another "life role" for Yang Mi. Meanwhile, in The Lychee Road, a clip of her crying while waiting for her husband's return went viral, gaining over two million likes, with top comments focusing on how convincing her performance felt.
But has Yang Mi really improved as an actress? Has she finally transformed? The drama where she plays the lead, This Thriving Land , became the most direct test of this question.
The market answered first. The drama was clearly a success: within four days of release, it held more than 30% market share of online viewership, broke platform heat indexes, and surpassed a 2% TV rating.
And crucially, Yang Mi managed to hold on to the goodwill she gained from the previous two projects, this time as the leading face of the show.
It's worth noting that This Thriving Land was filmed during the broadcast period of In the Name of the Brother, one of Yang Mi's most difficult phases.
That project was supposed to be a major step forward, but the performance didn't convince critics. Playing Guan Xue, she still fell back on habits that audiences associated with her idol-drama days—like biting her fingers, tapping tables, pursing lips, widening her eyes, or exaggerating facial expressions to convey intensity. For many, it felt too forced.
In contrast, This Thriving Land shows a very different Yang Mi. She learned restraint and subtlety, and largely corrected the performance tics she carried for years. Even in emotionally charged scenes, she now prefers to communicate through her eyes rather than heavy-handed expressions.
It also has to be admitted: Yang Mi's natural aura leans urban, elite, and assertive—traits that don't naturally align with a grounded rural woman like Ning Xiuxiu. Without sharp, precise acting choices to bridge that gap, audiences can still sense the disconnect, feeling she doesn't truly belong to that environment.
The difference becomes sharper when she shares the screen with veteran actors like Ni Dahong and Qin Hailu, whose reputations for acting strength highlight her weaknesses. This contrast reinforces the idea that she still has room to grow.
You could say Yang Mi is in the uphill stage of her transformation.
For a rural period drama like This Thriving Land to launch with such strong ratings speaks to her market power as a top-tier celebrity. But the mixed reviews of her acting capture the paradox of her current situation—the show proves her progress, while also underlining the distance she has left to cover.
This project marks an important victory in her long climb, but it is not the summit.
A loudly Announced Transformation, Followed by Failure
Yang Mi's name has long been tied to traffic, commercial value, and headline-making entertainment.
She was quick to understand how to use social media. Back in 2011, when Palace (宫锁心玉) aired and Weibo had only been around for two years, she was already interacting with audiences online, posting photos with co-stars.
She also became one of the first stars to prove that online popularity could translate into box office. After Palace became a hit in 2011, Yang Mi starred in the low-budget horror film Mysterious Island (孤岛惊魂). The film only has a 3.6 score on Douban, but it grossed nearly 90 million yuan. Many consider this movie's unexpectedly strong performance the true beginning of the "fan-driven film" era in China.
She has also consistently held enormous commercial value. Fans once tallied that Yang Mi had 22 brand endorsements, the highest number among female celebrities in China's entertainment scene. Some of her ad slogans even turned into viral catchphrases online.
Yang Mi has always lived under the spotlight. She is used to it, and even her transformation had to take place in full view of that light.
At the end of 2023, she posted on Weibo: "See you with new works in 2024."
But before the projects themselves arrived, the trending hashtags came first. In early 2024, three months ahead of the broadcast of In the Name of the Brother, People magazine (人物) published a feature article titled Yang Mi: Her Choice.
The article documented in detail the changes and effort she invested into In the Name of the Brother—acknowledging the performance habits she carried from idol dramas, working with an acting coach, approaching the project with excitement, and declaring her intent to "break apart and rebuild."
The article made it to multiple trending lists. In the comments section, someone wrote, "Looking forward to a brand-new actress Yang Mi." But the end result didn't live up to the anticipation.
And this wasn't the first time.
Yang Mi was one of the earliest among the post-1985 generation of actresses (known online as "85 flowers") to actively seek transformation. After the massive success of the fantasy romance Eternal Love (三生三世十里桃花) in 2017, she chose the arthouse film Baby. Director Liu Jie later revealed that it was Yang Mi who initiated the collaboration—after a chance meeting on set, her agent called him the very next day to say that no matter what role was needed, Yang Mi would make time for it.
In Baby, she shed her glamorous image, appearing with sallow skin and a rough complexion. She committed herself to the project, even agreeing to two rounds of reshoots outside of her contract while she was already filming a new drama.
During the same month Baby began shooting, she reposted a magazine interview on Weibo, captioned: "I want to work hard to become an actress for the people."
But the final outcome was disappointing. Baby holds a 5.3 on Douban and earned just over 24 million yuan at the box office. One review summed it up: "She still seems trapped in her procedural style of acting." After that, Yang Mi retreated to the safer ground of idol dramas and once again became a queen of media buzz rather than critical acclaim.
The truth is, Yang Mi has repeatedly emphasized her wish to be recognized as a good actress. She does care about acting quality. But for a long time, she was primarily viewed as a savvy businesswoman—"a shrewd boss," "Boss Mi" (a nickname acknowledging her business empire).
Back then, few audience members truly believed Yang Mi could or would become a "people's actress." When she had disagreements with her former management company, fans even left blunt comments: "Do you still want to be a people's actress?"
Her ex-husband, actor Hawick Lau, also voiced similar sentiments. In one interview, he said: "My wife and I actually developed in different directions. I wanted to stay more artistic. (laughs) Not that my wife isn't artistic, but her commercial value is undeniable." Pressed by the host, he added that Yang Mi would probably agree with him.
Later, Yang Mi clarified: "I don't agree."
2024–2025: A Decision to Step Away from the Spotlight
Unlike her choice after the setback of Baby in 2018, Yang Mi in 2024 did not retreat to the comfortable zone wrapped in buzz and spotlight.
She chose to keep moving forward, this time with a calmer, more pragmatic approach.
Since leaving her former agency, Yang Mi has significantly reduced her workload and the frequency of new projects. Especially after the controversy around In the Name of the Brother, she only took on the film The The Lychee Road and, in April, announced her role in Zhang Yimou's upcoming film Silent Awakening (惊蛰无声).
It's clear she has become extremely cautious about script selection, focusing mainly on supporting roles in big-budget films. It's a smart "step back to move forward" strategy—reducing output and avoiding the pressure of carrying a film or series, while channeling her energy into roles she can fully control.
And to be fair, her acting really has been improving. The two projects that sparked the most criticism—Nothing Can't Be Undone by A Hotpot (没有一顿火锅解决不了的事) and In the Name of the Brother—were filmed in early 2023. At that point, she had just left behind the idol-drama environment, and it was unrealistic to expect her to shake off years of patterned acting in such a short time.
By contrast, the three works that improved her reputation this year were mostly filmed later in 2023. From Guan Xue in In the Name of the Brother to Wang Xumei in The Case of the Embroidered Garden, we can see Yang Mi actively dismantling the "idol actress" who cared whether every shot looked perfect, delivering identical takes, and instead striving to become an actress with no such labels.
When she joined the set of The The Lychee Road, it was during one of her toughest periods in the public eye. In the Name of the Brother had disappointed, and even her supposed comfort zone—Fox Spirit Matchmaker: Red-Moon Pact (狐妖小红娘·月红篇), a big fantasy IP—fell flat in both reputation and market performance.
When her name appeared only under "special appearance" billing in The The Lychee Road, some netizens mocked that after consecutive failures, Yang Mi had been reduced to playing supporting roles.
But the former "queen of buzz" remained unusually calm. She didn't push back with a flurry of trending hashtags or aggressive PR. She didn't keep herself visible through variety shows or media noise. Nor did she rush into another lead-role project just to prove herself.
Back in 2011, on the last day of her 25th year, Yang Mi wrote on Weibo: "Take in the good and the bad. Waiting only for the east wind to rise again." At 39, she has lived up to that line.
Comparing Zhao Liying, Tang Yan, Liu Shishi, and Liu Yifei
Yang Mi's new drama This Thriving Land represents perhaps her most significant recent step toward a successful career transformation.
The role's high difficulty and demand for self-improvement mirror the collective challenge faced by China's "85 Flowers"—actresses like Zhao Liying, Tang Yan, Liu Shishi, and Liu Yifei, who rose to fame during the idol drama boom post-2010.
Their journeys not only reflect shared struggles but also outline possible paths for the current generation of traffic-driven stars seeking their own "second act."
Zhao Liying was among the first to offer a convincing answer. Through performances in The Wind Blows from Longxi (2022) and the film Article 20 (2024), she demonstrated expanding range, eventually winning the Hundred Flowers Award for Best Supporting Actress. Coupled with the success of The Legend of Shen Li, she has largely reinvented her career.
Similarly, Tang Yan invested three years into Blossoms Shanghai, determined to shed her past image. Her portrayal of Miss Wang finally persuaded audiences of her transformed capabilities.
Such reinvention, however, is neither quick nor easy. As producer Ma He notes, many professional habits formed during the traffic era become liabilities when transitioning to substantial roles, inviting greater market scrutiny. "Finding one's own path and position is the decisive factor in the second half of an acting career," he emphasizes.
Yang Mi's own attempts last year, often centered on sharp, domineering heroines, fell short of audience expectations. It was not until The Case of the Murder in the Sauce Garden that she found a role—Wang Xumei—that truly suited her, earning recognition for her acting.
Director Yue Ying, who has faced similar casting dilemmas, highlights the importance of fit: "If the actor's persona aligns with the role and they genuinely desire to inhabit it, it gives us confidence to take the leap."
Strong directorial guidance and a willingness to collaborate with acting coaches are also crucial. Ma He aptly observes that past glory belongs behind; moving forward requires the courage to start over. For those accustomed to fame, embracing professional standards and meticulous detail is far from easy. Retreating into familiar costume idol dramas may be tempting, but lasting relevance likely lies on the more challenging path.
By 2022, as the industry prioritized content upgrading, many "85 Flowers" announced new costume drama projects. However, several underperformed or sparked controversy.
According to platform producer Constance, many such productions remained stuck in traditional sweet-romance tropes, failing to meet evolving audience preferences for younger leads and more mature narratives.
Even the relatively successful The Legend of Shen Li faced critiques like "middle-aged costume drama" and unconvincing romance, hinting at the need for more suitable developmental directions.
In today's market, these actresses possess a key advantage: broad national recognition, a rarity among younger rising stars. Liu Yifei exemplifies this, with projects like A Dream of Splendor, Meet Yourself, and The Story of Rose enjoying high success rates due to her exceptional popularity and cultural impact.
Similarly, Yang Mi, Tang Yan, Liu Shishi, and Zhao Liying benefited from both television's golden age and the dawn of web dramas, building influence through major hits like Chinese Paladin 3, Palace, and Legend of Lu Zhen.
This widespread appeal makes them valuable in an era where user growth in long-form video has plateaued. As Ma He explains, the "85 Flowers" offer a blend of "traffic + content," bringing gravitas and cross-demographic recognition that can empower genres beyond pure idol dramas—such as serious contemporary works or suspense series.
However, this return must be grounded in their identity as actors, not just traffic stars. Failure to deliver on content potential invites intensified market criticism, as seen in some recent projects.
For platforms, casting "85 Flowers" in serious or suspense dramas aligns best with industry demands and represents an optimal pathway for the actresses' career second halves.
Following her acclaim in Blossoms Shanghai, Tang Yan chose Single Woman, an adaptation of an Yi Shu novel, and took a special role in the crime-suspense drama The Beginning of Man. This direction is not limited to the "85 Flowers"; many post-90s actors are also formulating transition strategies.
This shift is driven by market demands. As Constance notes, audiences have grown dissatisfied with repetitive casting and performances, as well as poor role-actor fit driven by data obsession. Younger traffic stars may face even greater challenges.
Ma He distinguishes between traffic celebrities and professional actors as overlapping yet fundamentally different industries. The most reliable path is leveraging existing influence to empower content—the fastest route from traffic star to actor.
Transitioning toward realistic subject matter has become an accessible option, allowing personal growth to become visible and adding demonstrable value. From an industry perspective, platforms have heavily invested in realistic dramas in recent years to diversify beyond idol genres and reconnect with broader audiences. This shift also unlocks higher-quality resources for committed actors.
Several young performers are already experimenting, such as Bai Lu in Northward, or Fan Chengcheng, Guan Xiaotong, and Wang Anyu in Alley People. Upcoming projects like Yang Zi's The Tree of Life and Ren Jialun's Wind and Tide reflect similar attempts.
However, genre alone is insufficient. Yang Mi starred in the docudrama Baby as early as 2018, but it failed to gain traction. Authentic audience recognition requires a complete restart as an actor—a demanding process.
Tang Yan's three-year dedication to Blossoms Shanghai sparked anxiety among fans about her visibility, with some questioning her team's judgment. Such doubts necessitate a long-term mindset and steadfastness from both artists and their teams.
Director Yue Ying views this as a form of repayment: "The dividends enjoyed during the traffic economy have worn down an actor's credibility. Breaking away requires the courage to tear down the old to build anew."
This is the path being paved by the "85 Flowers," and it now awaits the next generation. The market discerns between gamblers and genuine cultivators. Respectable actors who respect their work and their audience remain in constant demand.
