After a string of hits that garnered a total of 5 billion yuan ($781 million) at the box office, Huang Bo decided to take a year off. For a break, he took on a reality show that required only one day of work per week.
For that, he was paid 48 million yuan.
Go Fighting! aired its 12 episodes on Shanghai's Oriental Satellite TV this past summer. Other than its format and content, its starry lineup, including Huang Lei and Sun Honglei besides the record-setting Huang Bo, is strong enough to fill up a Zhang Yimou-directed blockbuster.
This is where China's reality programming is heading－turbocharged with big money, big stars and, hopefully, big audiences.
But insiders are complaining about this direction. "It is abnormal," says Zhang Shaogang, a television host and producer. "One or two stars should be enough for this kind of program. But production companies and television stations are rushing into the bigger-is-better approach, which cannot sustain itself."
While head scratching has turned into head shaking, which has turned into fears of an implosion, audiences have so many choices that for a while every channel seemed to have its own reality show. It was estimated the total for 2015 is 30 such shows on the tube.
Some investors and producers say privately that they feel they are on autopilot. They are under enormous pressure to get into this game but are acutely aware that the last one standing will be the fool caught with his pants down. They know that the trend cannot last, but just don't know when it will blow up in their faces－or whether they can escape unscathed and with their winnings intact.
Most such shows, which require budgets equivalent to that of the costliest feature films, are partnerships between State-owned television stations and private production companies. But the risk falls on the latter, which usually pay large fees to the former for the use of their platforms.
The first verifiable reality show in the Chinese mainland appeared only 10 years ago. In 2005, Supergirls, loosely adapted but not properly licensed from American Idol, swept the country off its feet. It minted bona fide stars such as the tomboyish Li Yuchun and the octave-spanning Zhang Liangying.
Since then, many American and European shows have been licensed and made into Chinese editions. The most successful is The Voice of China, which has not flagged after four strong seasons. Big Brother, an old show with many versions across the world, premiered in China in November.
But instead of a cross-platform rollout－first TV, then the Web or simultaneously－typical of most such programming, Big Brother is available only on Youku and Tudou, one of the nation's major video sites. The title has been sinicized, with the politically ominous original replaced by a more demographically friendly Roommates Residing Together.
Reality shows were touted as an outlet for ordinary people with talent. But China took a sharp turn in 2013 when it licensed Dad, Where Are We Going? from South Korea.
Korean formats have been dominant on Chinese television ever since. A major difference between South Korean shows and Western ones is the former's heavy reliance on celebrities. It can be summed up as displaying "the extraordinary side of ordinary people" vs "the ordinary side of extraordinary people".
For Go Fighting!, Sun Honglei, who has won many acting awards, says that his participation was "30 percent acting and 70 percent being himself" and Huang Bo says he didn't have time to think of acting. "As every task was new, I was just sweating all over trying to familiarize myself with the rules and routines of the show," he adds.
Sometimes, "being oneself" means making a fool of oneself, which satisfies the innate voyeurism of the public. For some of the shows, stars have to show their family members, residences or slices of their private lives.
Other factors responsible for the popularity of South Korean licensed shows include their variety and their affinity with Chinese culture. They usually play up the positive side of human nature, say some experts. And their asking price for the license is much lower than a similar one from Western countries, but that is changing as the costs of some licenses have shot up 10 times in the past few years.
However, high ratings in South Korea do not guarantee a similar result in China. Two Days, One Night, despite its strong local cast, achieved dismal results. Chen Di, director of the Chinese edition of South Korea's Infinite Challenge, says many setups have to be localized. But apparently, few are questioning the addiction to marquee names－except those in the film business.
So many movie stars are now participating in reality programs that the rumble of griping from the film industry is growing increasingly distinct.