On April 20, at the iQIYI World Conference, CEO Gong Yu's discussion on AI authorization for actors and the announcement of a list involving one hundred actors expressing &#34;willingness for AI authorization&#34; triggered a major stir in the market.
This public opinion storm superficially stemmed from information misalignment during dissemination, igniting public resistance against &#34;capital exploiting creators.&#34;
However, looking beneath the surface of the controversy, it essentially reflects the anxiety and urgency of this long-form video giant under multiple realistic dilemmas.
Currently, iQIYI faces pressure on two fronts.
On the capital side, constrained by its loss-making financial fundamentals and valuation demands for preparing an IPO on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange, the platform is eager to launch a &#34;cost reduction and efficiency improvement&#34; AI narrative to reshape market confidence;
On the business side, facing the ruthless erosion of user time by short-video algorithms, the platform has no choice but to passively engage in a survival battle of &#34;using AI to fight AI.&#34;
Caught in a situation of being attacked from both front and rear, iQIYI inevitably ends up &#34;satisfying neither side.&#34;
Failing to follow AI means missing the industry's major trend; however, going all-in on AI easily triggers massive public backlash on the user side, where emotions and warmth are most valued.
In this somewhat hasty sprint, iQIYI's predicament is not an isolated case.
This is not only a violent collision between capital logic and public sentiment, but also a deep-seated contradiction exposed as long-form video platforms, swept up in the torrent of technological change, attempt to balance commercial survival with artistic bottom lines.
<h2>The AI Blueprint &#34;Under Fire&#34;</h2>
At the iQIYI World Conference, AI was undoubtedly the core topic of the entire event.
To comprehensively showcase its professional layout in the field of AI, iQIYI not only launched Nadou Pro, a platform aimed at supporting full-stack AI creation for film and television, but also publicly displayed a list containing one hundred actors, including Ma Su and Chen Zheyuan, indicating their willingness for AI authorization.
However, it was precisely this list and related remarks that quickly sparked a public opinion storm accusing &#34;iQIYI of arrogance&#34; on social media.
Objectively examining this controversy, much of the anger was built upon information asymmetry.
Regarding this list of actors' willingness for AI authorization, outsiders interpreted it as iQIYI having already obtained substantive authorization from these one hundred artists for AI production, fearing that the actors' &#34;digital avatars&#34; had been bought out by the platform.
However, according to true information obtained by All-Weather Technology on-site, when introducing this list, Gong Yu very rigorously emphasized that this was &#34;willingness,&#34; not final &#34;authorization.&#34;
Gong Yu's original words clearly stated: &#34;The list only indicates his willingness to authorize AI creation; he merely expressed willingness. However, whether an actor is willing to participate in your project and which role they play must be agreed upon by them. In other words, an actor agreeing to authorize a specific project and role does not mean they have agreed to any other project or role.&#34;
Rumors about &#34;using AI to allow actors to take on fourteen projects a year&#34; triggered huge controversy and were interpreted by outsiders as unscrupulous exploitation of performers by capital.
However, Gong Yu's original words were: &#34;Everyone knows actors work hard; they stay in Hengdian for four or five months, working thirteen or fourteen hours a day with no personal life. Then (after authorizing AI), it could become like us ordinary white-collar workers; although busy, can't we have some personal life? Earn a bit less money from this one deal, but you can go from taking two projects a year to four. But I don't even suggest taking fourteen projects; that would saturate the market. That won't do.&#34;
Setting aside the emotionally charged public opinion fermentation, peering into the deep-seated commercial motivation behind iQIYI's eagerness to prominently play the &#34;AI card&#34; likely still stems from capital operations.
Currently, iQIYI is at a critical juncture of preparing for a Hong Kong Stock Exchange IPO, but its performance in the US market has been average, with a closing price of just $1.4 on April 20, down nearly 50% from September of last year.
Fundamentals also face certain challenges; revenue for fiscal year 2025 declined 6.62% year-on-year, with net losses reaching 206 million yuan.
Against this backdrop, AI has become the lifeline for iQIYI to boost market confidence and reshape valuations.
Whether integrating rich IP libraries to support secondary AI development or assisting in advancing commercial exploration of actor AI authorization, fundamentally, iQIYI is demonstrating to the capital market that the platform has the ability to break through the limitations of traditional film and television shooting regarding schedules and physical space, thereby significantly reducing content creation costs and thresholds to achieve industrialized mass production.
Capital markets favor leaps in productivity and infinite reuse of digital assets, but audiences always care about the warmth of content.
<h2>Why the Narrative Misaligned</h2>
This press conference, originally intended to &#34;show off muscles&#34; to the capital market, turned into a public opinion crisis.
The core reason lies in iQIYI directly deploying a financial and efficiency narrative designed for the capital market into the realm of public communication without conversion, thus triggering a violent collision between capital logic and public sentiment.
From the perspective of industry and capital, the deep penetration of generative AI in the film and television industry is an unstoppable technological torrent. In this new content ecosystem, AI greatly lowers the threshold for content production, making assembly-line-style &#34;output&#34; cheap.
For this reason, the images, voices, and performance styles of famous actors have become &#34;scarce IPs&#34; with high recognizability and emotional connections with fans, serving as key anchors for user attention in the ocean of AI-generated content.
Platform promotion of actor AI authorization is, in essence, to reuse these scarce IPs to improve project turnover rates.
However, from the public's perspective, this logic appears cold and controversial.
Actor AI authorization is deeply bound with portrait rights, privacy rights, and intricate commercial interest games. When AI generation begins to intervene or even replace human emotional expression, it directly touches the most sensitive ethical nerves of society.
Ordinary viewers and fans do not care about the platform's financial report performance or valuation logic; they focus on the artistic quality of dramas, the soul of actors' performances, and basic respect for creators.
Therefore, when the platform talks extensively in front of the public about how to &#34;copy&#34; actors using AI and pursue efficiency, the original signal of &#34;technology empowerment&#34; received by the audience naturally becomes &#34;capital arrogance&#34; and &#34;perfunctoriness towards content creation.&#34;
In fact, at this crossroads where technology and creativity collide intensely, iQIYI itself is deeply trapped in an AI dilemma.
The business model of long-form video is naturally built on users' long-term immersive viewing, which is the absolute cornerstone for maintaining membership subscriptions and advertising revenue. However, in today's era of extremely fragmented attention, this valuable user time is being eroded by short-video platforms represented by Douyin.
More severely, Douyin leverages algorithmic advantages to heavily invest in &#34;Hongguo Short Dramas&#34; to further launch a fierce attack into the heartland of long-form video, further capturing user minds and fragmented time by combining free models with ultra-fast plot twists in short drama formats.
Facing the &#34;dimensionality-reduction strike&#34; of short-video AI algorithms, the sense of crisis for traditional long-form video platforms like iQIYI is unprecedentedly heavy.
Long-series production involves long cycles, high capital thresholds, and huge trial-and-error costs, appearing increasingly cumbersome and inefficient in the confrontation with short content's &#34;industrial assembly line + algorithmic precise distribution.&#34;
However, in this anxious sprint, how to both resist the algorithmic erosion of short dramas and preserve the artistic bottom line and public reputation of long-form video is clearly a pain point that iQIYI currently finds difficult to balance.
A product that should stand on emotional warmth, if it persistently and loudly advocates AI iteration, easily overlooks the audience's most genuine experience. The AI trend is unstoppable, concerning survival and elimination, but taking steps too hastily may also bury unpredictable risks.

AI moves to the right; ethics move to the left

- On April 20, at the iQIYI World Conference, CEO Gong Yu sparked controversy by discussing AI authorization for actors and releasing a list of over a hundred actors expressing intent for AI usage.  
- The backlash was fueled by misinformation, reflecting public anxiety over the potential exploitation of creators by capital, with iQIYI facing dual pressures from financial losses and competition from short video platforms.  
- As iQIYI prepares for a Hong Kong IPO amid declining revenue, their push for AI is seen as a desperate attempt to restore market confidence, highlighting a disconnect between corporate narratives and audience sentiments regarding artistic integrity.

Why iQIYI Finds Itself Under Pressure from All Sides