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Wan Qingliang, Communist Party Secretary of Guangzhou, gestures as he speaks at a meeting in Guangzhou, February 18, 2014. Wan, the Chinese Communist Party boss of the southern city of Guangzhou is being investigated for corruption, the party's anti-corruption body said on June 27, 2014, the latest target of President Xi Jinping's war on graft. Wan was suspected of "serious disciplinary violations", the usual euphemism for graft, the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection said. Picture taken February 18, 2014.Stringer/Reuters

It promises to be a Chinese epic, of a sort. Film crews went to 18 provinces, conducted more than 100 interviews and sought out experts, scholars and cultural luminaries. They pledged to tell a "fresh" story, airing in four instalments on nationwide television.

The tale in question is actually as old as China itself: corruption. But in the midst of a sweeping anti-graft campaign, the country is making a new effort to turn official misdeeds into propaganda with an entertaining twist. The television corruption series, which launched Monday, will showcase the extravagance of 30 leaders gone bad – or, in the sanitized words of state media, spotlight their "undesirable work styles."

Chief among them will be Wan Qingliang, a former Communist Party chief in the city of Guangzhou who was tossed from the party in October. The initial investigation into him was announced in a single sentence.

State media have since said only that he took advantage of his post, traded in "huge bribes" and frequented expensive private clubs.

But the televised series, which includes interviews with whistle-blowers, journalists and graft-busters, promises a more salacious look at Mr. Wan's wrongdoing, marking a small step forward in China's willingness to disclose details of the rot in its system. Co-produced with the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection, it's part of a fast-moving effort to build a new generation of propaganda that has included the establishment of a Huffington Post-style site, and mobile news sources written in chatty online language.

"The party takes the challenge of communicating to new media more seriously than anyone else on the planet, and they are determined that their voice will be the dominant, if not the only one," said Jeremy Goldkorn, the founder of Danwei, a company that researches China media and markets.

Despite a two-year campaign led by President Xi Jinping that saw 182,000 officials punished last year alone, Beijing has traditionally been reluctant to offer a clear window into the wanton avarice that has flourished in official ranks. Leaders have feared providing too much detail might undermine faith in the system – and actively sought to prevent others from doing so.

Probes into the eye-popping wealth accumulated by the country's most important modern leaders led to blacklisting for journalists with Bloomberg and the New York Times. When the BBC aired a "corruption tour" earlier this year, censors blacked it out on Chinese screens. Local lawyers who sought legal recourse have been silenced, some jailed.

Official announcements about the highest-profile investigations and arrests have also been studiously bland. As one example, the charges against Gu Junshan, a People's Liberation Army general who oversaw military housing projects, were officially announced in 56 words. The revelation that Gen. Gu had stashed so much loot it took four truckloads to carry away was made by Caixin, a privately held Chinese news outlet. The haul included a golden boat, wash basin and statue of Mao Zedong.

The new television series promised something different, with scenes of the lavish restaurants, luxurious boardrooms and fancy cars that make up the gilded life of the comfortably corrupt.

"It's not that Chinese people are unaware of corruption. Everybody has always assumed that Chinese government officials are corrupt," said Mr. Goldkorn. "There's a certain amount of schadenfreude as these powerful people go down. That's part of the political calculus, and Xi Jinping knows what he's doing."

The opening show was nonetheless heavy on paternalistic propaganda, including the enumeration of all eight desirable work styles, quotes from Confucius, 1940s-era scenes of Mao and plenty of footage of Mr. Xi – first in a suit, then in a white-collared shirt, then wearing blue shirt-sleeves. It was no 60 Minutes.

Still, there were flashes of more compelling content ahead, with what appeared to be a shoulder-mounted hidden camera and footage of the sumptuous hot springs and massage chairs used by officials at numerous getaways masked as meetings.

"The party has faced many severe challenges, and there are many, many urgent issues to solve in the party, especially corruption," Mr. Xi says in one clip.

The former U.S. secretary of state, Henry Kissinger, in an interview, then expresses his faith in China's ability to wade through its graft mess. "I have confidence that the Chinese leaders are approaching this in a very serious and dedicated manner," he says.

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