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China’s Growing e-Commerce Graveyard: These Companies Already Failed in 2017

“When there’s enough wind, even a pig can fly” (当风来了, 猪也会飞起来) does not hold true for all online businesses.

Manya Koetse

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China’s e-commerce market is a dog-eat-dog world, with new companies popping up every day, while older ones are throwing in the towel. How (not) to make it in China’s crazy world of e-commerce has become a hot topic of discussion on Chinese social media. What’s on Weibo takes a look at 3 big – once successful – Chinese online companies, and why they failed in 2017.

It is still early in the year, but already some big online companies have exited China’s chaotic world of e-commerce. The release of an ‘e-commerce dead list’ (#2017电商死亡名单#) became top trending on Chinese social media on February 22, and triggered discussions on the status-quo of the market.

“One by one they collapse, one by one they pop up,” one netizen (@逛吃秦皇岛) says. With an ever-growing Chinese online population and the world’s largest e-commerce market, more companies seek to join, hoping to find a goldmine. Instead, many of them soon end up on the e-commerce graveyard. The popular idea about China’s e-market that “when there’s enough wind, even a pig can fly” (当风来了, 猪也会飞起来) does not seem to hold true for all online businesses.

Their collapse does not necessarily mean the end – for many, it is just a new beginning. “This whole business is like gambling,” one Weibo commenter responds. Another micro-blogger says: “E-commerce companies all soon become like conventional businesses. The large online companies are just too strong. It is easy to join [the market], but hard to survive.”

Let’s take a look at 3 big companies that have already collapsed this year, and what experts say goes wrong in their approach to the Chinese online market.

 
“China’s 2017 e-Commerce Dead List”

Along with other Chinese media, China’s influential online e-commerce magazine Ebrun.com recently released a list of big companies that have closed their doors this year. We have selected the 3 biggest ones.

 

1. Dingfangbao 订房宝

Business: Online Hotel Bookings

With the slogan “You only sleep ten hours, why would you spend all your money for the day on it?” (只睡十小时,为何要花整天的钱), Dingfangbao was an up-and-coming online hotel booking site (app + website) selling high-class hotel rooms at low prices, focused at offering clients a luxurious room for the night.

The company started in late 2014 with its own formula that allowed customers to search for available hotel rooms after 6 pm. Through the Dingfangbao app and site, four and five-star hotels in big cities such as Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Shenzhen could offer their rooms at competitive prices if they were not occupied or reserved by 6 pm. A win-win situation: Dingfangbao users could get a top room for a cheap price, and hotels wouldn’t be left with empty hotel rooms.

The Dingfangbao service (Dingfangbao literally meaning ‘booking treasure’) was especially aimed at business travelers who won’t arrive at their hotels until the evenings due to late meetings and leave again early in the morning.

With Japanese nude model/(adult) film actress Sola Aoi (苍井空) as their company ambassador, it seemed that Dingfangbao was also aiming at luring customers to luxurious hotels at nighttime for other purposes – similar to the ‘love hotels’ in Japan.

Japanese sexy actress Sola Aoi was Dingfangbao’s spokesperson.

Dingfangbao had a promising take-off in 2014, with various fundings and an initial angel investment of 6 million RMB (±870K$), followed by second- and third-round funding of a total of 13 million RMB (±1.9M$) in 2015 and 2016.

But on 27 January 2017, Dingfangbao announced that it would be stopping its services. CEO Sun Jianrong (孙建荣) told the media that although there certainly is a market for the Dingbaofang formula, the frequency with which its clients used these services was too low and not enough to cover their operational costs.

On Weibo, the company still has around 19000 followers. Sola Aoi, who has a staggering 17 million fans on her Weibo page, announced on February 8 that she would step down as the company’s spokesperson. A day later, the company officially closed its doors, although its website is still live at the time of writing.

 

2. Greenbox 绿盒子

Business: O2O Children’s Clothing

Online trendy children’s clothing brand Greenbox (绿盒子) was a success story when it first entered China’s O2O (online-to-offline) retail market in 2010. The company was already established by businesswoman Wu Fangfang (吴芳芳) years before, but it made a conscious shift from offline to e-commerce when Wu realized the potential of middle-class moms spending more time shopping for their kids on the internet.

In 2010, Greenbox received two rounds of funding from Trust Bridge Partners (TBP) of 20 million RMB (3M$), and of 100 million (14.5M$) from DCM. Children clothing brands such as Miss de Mode, M.I.L. Boy, Jenny Bear, and a special Disney brand all belonged to Greenbox, which soon was named one of China’s top 10 e-retailers.

Greenbox tapped into the children’s clothing at the right time, as this retail segment has become especially booming business over the past few years. Together with the surge in other children-related products, there has been a shift to bigger sales of these ‘non-traditional products’ that show that China’s ‘Mummy Economy’ (妈妈经济) has become increasingly more relevant.

Wu Fangfang, the founder of Greenbox.

Soon after the brand was established, it became one of the most popular children’s clothing brands (ranking no.1 for three years in a row) on Alibaba’s online malls Tmall and Taobao. But Greenbox was not solely sold through Alibaba; it was also available through other online shopping platforms such as JD.com and Dangdang. The brand also had its own shop on WeChat.

In 2015, Greenbox started opening up physical stores besides its online ones. It had around 100 (flagship) stores in China’s first-tier cities, solely focused on online sales for the second- and third-tier cities. Was the company taking on more than it could? According to some Chinese media, the brand was “blindly expanding” and growing too fast, too soon, which led to recurring financial difficulties throughout the years. Their financial problems severely worsened in 2016, as the children’s clothing became increasingly competitive. In January 2017, the brand finally announced its bankruptcy.

On Weibo the brand still has 76000 fans, but it has been inactive for months. Some netizens are surprised that the well-known brand has quit, and wonder what this means for the future of other successful ‘Taobao brands.’

 

3. An Home 安个家

Business: Online Real Estate

An Home (安个家) was established in April of 2015. Headquartered in Shanghai, it was independently funded (10 million RMB, 1.5M$) by CEO Liang Weiping (梁伟平). Its business offered online real estate services with a focus on its mobile app, attempting to rival with traditional real estate services.

Different from offline realtors, An Home aimed to be an online (mobile) platform where its home-seekers, homeowners, and consultants could connect with each other, making the process of buying and selling a house less time-consuming and more efficient.

An Home was a promising start-up for which Liang Weiping gathered a team coming from prosperous companies such as Tencent and Alibaba.

But by late December of 2016, Liang admitted to Chinese media that the company was facing financial hardships, and that they had not succeeded in finding the right way to compete with their offline rivals through online channels. As booming as all corners of China’s e-commerce market might seem, people might not be ready for O2O when it comes to real estate.

One of the reasons for its failure was that eventually, no matter online or offline, access to a large number of houses is the key to winning over the real estate market – and it was precisely this issue where the company feel behind compared to the more traditional channels.

Late 2016, CEO Liang sent out a letter to all of its staff that An Home had to halt operations due to financial difficulties. The company has now closed its doors.

What Can We Learn from the Graveyard Companies?

The aforementioned online companies are not the only ones who did not make it this year. Bollain Home Textile (帛澜家纺天猫店), founded in 2012 and selling bedding and home textiles through over 50 online stores in China, has collapsed after running behind approximately 16 million RMB (2.3M$) in its payments to suppliers and staff.

Online recruitment company Job Tong (周伯通招聘), established in 2013 as a major social recruitment platform and even receiving a 28 million RMB investment from NetEase, also went down earlier this year – its online competitors, including lagou.com, liepin.com, and zhipin.com, simply grew too strong.

 

“Even the most clever housewife cannot cook without rice”

 

And then we have not even mentioned foreign brands such as Lotte and others that closed their doors this doors in the highly competitive Chinese e-market.

So what is the lesson to be learned from these start-up failures? Of course, there is not one answer.

But Chinese e-commerce guru Wang Yongjun (王勇军), who has over 2,5 million fans on his Weibo account (@老高电商圈子), thinks he knows what China’s e-commerce start-ups need.

Wang runs a large networking group called the ‘Laogao Club’ for online entrepreneurs in China that are active on Taobao, Tmall, JD.com, etc, and in response to the ‘2017 failing e-commerce list’, published a blog on February 22 in which he gives some main points on how to succeed in this dog-eat-dog e-commerce world.

Mr. Wang, founder of the Laogao Club, explains how businesses can become successful on platforms such as Taobao or JD.com.

According to Wang’s article (in Chinese), which received many views on Weibo on February 22, building up an online community is key for any e-commerce business in China.

“Even the most clever housewife cannot cook without rice”, Wang argues, seeing an online following as the key ingredient to any online-based business. Drawing in communal media followers costs time and energy – haste makes waste.

The ‘guru’ says that online businesses can’t just gather their following by simply arranging a KOL (Key Opinion Leader) or online celebrity (see the first Dingfangbao example) for their brand; it is something a brand has to do themself, since they are the core that needs to attract fans.

 

“No matter how good you are, or how good your product is, it is worth nothing without an online community.”

 

“No matter how good you are, or how good your product is, it is worth nothing without an online community,” Wang writes. In a time when netizens are drowning in the information that is presented to them, it is essential that brands and companies are precise in targeting their relevant audiences and shooting their arrows in the right place.

Wang strongly advises companies to set up the right online environment that suits their target audience, and to pick the right timing to market their messages. Sometimes brands are lucky when their campaign goes viral, but mostly it is about smart strategy.

Before converting your assets into cash, it is important to continue to be valuable to followers and give them a reason to stay. Wang stresses that it is never a good idea to start the money-making machine too soon – you first need to make sure you have a steady and loyal group of online followers that is attached to your brand/company.

 

“Don’t drown the pond to get at the fish.”

 

“Don’t be overhasty, don’t drain the pond to get to the fish” (不能操之过急、竭泽而渔), is one of the messages of the Laogao Club for their online entrepreneurs. You can only transform your brand and starting making money once your ‘fans’ trust your brand/company enough and feel connected to its ‘flavor.’

Keeping up the quality of your services and products, and always making sure it brings more than just a ‘bargain’, it is therefore key to survive in the fiercely competitive Chinese e-commerce market.

Reading from the Laogao Club’s road to e-success, we could draw the conclusion that Dingfangbao had not worked enough on creating its own communal following of trusting and loyal fans before attempting to converting its assets into cash. An Home jumped into the pond before there were any fish at all, and Greenbox went ahead of itself and became too hasty to expand.

“If you enter the pit, be cautious”, some netizens respond on Weibo: “It is risky business.”

“There are too many people who don’t understand and think they are already running an e-business simply because they openened an online company. It looks good on paper, but in reality, it’s nothing,” another person writes.

– By Manya Koetse

©2017 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.

Manya Koetse is a sinologist, writer, and public speaker specializing in China’s social trends, digital culture, and online media ecosystems. She founded What’s on Weibo in 2013 and now runs the Eye on Digital China newsletter. Learn more at manyakoetse.com or follow her on X, Instagram, or LinkedIn.

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China Brands, Marketing & Consumers

Quack Like a Goose: Why Beijing Street Vendor “Auntie Goose Legs” Sparked a Nationwide Debate

After the first complaints surfaced, Auntie Goose Legs admitted the truth about her business: she ha been selling duck legs all along.

Manya Koetse

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🔥 Originally published in Eye on Digital China.
My premium newsletter covering the stories, memes, debates, and viral moments shaping online conversations in China. Subscribe here to receive future editions.

If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it might still be a goose – or the other way around. That, at least, is the takeaway from two stories that recently went viral on Chinese social media.

The woman at the center of it all is Beijing street-food vendor Chen Xiufeng (陈秀凤), better known as “Auntie Goose Legs” (鹅腿阿姨). Over the years, she became something of a local celebrity in Beijing’s university district. Originally from Jiangsu, the migrant vendor had been selling her famous roasted goose legs to students since 2011.

She skyrocketed to national fame in 2023 , but became the target of widespread criticism last week after it was revealed that her celebrated goose legs – sold for 16 yuan ($2.20) per piece – were actually duck meat all along.

The controversy came up after the vendor ventured beyond the university area into Beijing’s business district. At the universities, she enjoyed a loyal customer base and dedicated WeChat groups. In her new market, however, customers proved more skeptical. Some noticed that the meat looked suspiciously duck-like; others complained that the color seemed off.

In the university district, Auntie Goose Legs she enjoyed a loyal customer base and dedicated WeChat groups.

After the first complaints surfaced, Auntie Goose Legs admitted the truth on WeChat on June 9.

“The ingredients I originally used were goose legs,” she wrote, “but they have been out of stock for more than fifteen years. The current ingredient is duck legs.”

It turned out that she had only sold goose legs, the product that made her famous, for two months back in 2011 before switching to the much cheaper duck. “Did geese become extinct without us knowing?” some netizens joked.

The revelation quickly exploded online. The hashtag “What Auntie Goose Legs is Selling Turns Out to be Duck Legs” (#鹅腿阿姨卖的是鸭腿#) became the top trending on Weibo for an entire day, with millions of people discussing the topic.

 

Why did millions of people become so outraged over a single Beijing street vendor selling duck instead of goose?

 

Piggybacking on the debate, Anhui-based commentators pointed out that a beloved regional specialty has the exact opposite ‘problem.’ Wuwei smoked duck (无为板鸭) is branded as duck, but is usually goose. According to local standards, however, goose products may be sold under this name, prompting discussions about “hanging up a goat’s head, while selling dog meat“ (挂羊头卖狗肉): advertising one thing while selling another.

Because geese are more expensive than ducks in China, and generally considered tastier, the Anhui duck-is-goose story, unlike the Auntie Goose Legs controversy, did not provoke online anger. Instead, many people saw it as an example of sellers prioritizing flavor over cost. Auntie Goose Legs is seen as doing the exact opposite.

But why did millions of people actually become so outraged over a single Beijing street vendor selling duck instead of goose, especially when there were no indications that anyone became ill? The answer has little to do with poultry and everything to do with trust.

Auntie Goose Legs during the prime time in Beijing’s University District in late 2023 (image via Lianhe Zaobao 联合早报).

Food fraud and mislabeling have been longstanding concerns in China. Earlier surveys found that food safety worries even outweighed concerns about public security and environmental issues, and while China’s food safety record has improved in recent years, public trust remains fragile.

Part of these concerns are immediate and practical. Major scandals in the past involving melamine-tainted infant formula or recycled “gutter oil” have posed serious risks to public health. But the issue goes beyond health risks alone.

 

If a goose can be a duck, then what exactly is the duck?

 

Whereas food safety concerns in many Western countries often focus on contamination, Chinese consumers are frequently just as concerned with economic deception. It is unfair to pay for a more expensive goose and receive a duck. Even if no one gets sick, Chinese consumer law still treats it as fraud.

More important, however, is what such deception does to confidence in the broader food system. If a goose can be a duck, then what exactly is the duck?

As a major 2023 college canteen scandal demonstrated, the build-up of deceit can reach a breaking point among the public. During that somewhat Kafkaesque “rat head or duck neck” (鼠头or鸭脖”事件) controversy, officials insisted a rat head found in a student’s rice was merely a “duck neck,” even though everyone could clearly see the snout and teeth of a rodent.

This kind of gaslighting shatters social trust and reinforces a generalized sense that, as a consumer, you are entirely on your own. When regulators fail to step in honestly, even a seemingly isolated incident comes to symbolize more dangerous forms of systemic food fraud.

And this is where the Auntie Goose Legs story stings the most.

People did not come to her simply because her food was good. Over the years, she had become part of local student life, and she felt safe and authentic. Her pink scooter helmet, which she continued to wear while working, became an iconic symbol of her no-nonsense and humble image. Her success was built on word of mouth and, above all, on the trust her customers placed in her.

That this particular “auntie” deceived her customers by selling a different product than the one she advertised is no longer really about her. If duck is goose, goose is duck, and your local auntie has deceived you for years, then who can you trust anymore?

 

  • Read more about how Auntie Goose Legs rose to fame in 2023 here.

 

By Manya Koetse
(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)

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©2026 Eye on Digital China/Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.

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My Mum Has Two Husbands: The OPPO Mother’s Day Fiasco and 7 Other Gender Marketing Fails in China

Inside OPPO’s Mother’s Day PR fiasco and other failed marketing campaigns in China’s gender minefield

Manya Koetse

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The backlash to OPPO’s Mother’s Day ad came from multiple directions, from grassroots netizens to official organizations. Here’s a closer look at the controversy, along with 7 other cases that show how gender-related marketing has become a recurring minefield for brands in China.

Mother’s Day is over, but OPPO is still recovering. The Chinese smartphone brand went viral over the weekend for a Mother’s Day marketing campaign that failed spectacularly. In the campaign, OPPO used the slogan: “My mom has two ‘husbands.’”

The accompanying text read:

My mom has two ‘husbands.’ One is my dad, and the other one she sees twice a year. She barely dresses up for dates with my dad, but when she sees the other one, she’d wear a wedding dress if she could.” (“我妈有两个‘老公’,一个是我爸,另一个一年见两回。跟我爸约会基本不打扮,见另一个,她恨不得穿婚纱。”)

The OPPO ad was published online on May 8, 2026.

With this ad, OPPO was likely trying to tap into digital culture and resonate with younger consumers by using online slang.

In Chinese fandom subcultures, female fans sometimes refer to their idols as their “husband” (老公, lǎogōng) to express their devotion. It is part of a broader online joke, with some fans even incorporating life-size cardboard cutouts of their favorite celebrities into their weddings.

The phrase “real husband” (真老公) gained wider mainstream attention in late 2025 after a young Chinese bride unexpectedly ran into rapper and singer Jackson Wang on her wedding day and posted:

💬 “Who understands this? I met my real husband on my wedding day!” (“谁懂啊!婚礼当天遇到了真老公!!”)

The ‘real husband’ post that went viral in late 2025 and early 2026.

Although some commenters found it funny, the bride was heavily criticized for publicly calling a celebrity her “real husband” on her wedding day, using the same word (老公) that refers to her literal spouse, as if she were placing her idol above her actual groom.

💬 “This makes it seem as though she does not truly regard the man she is legally marrying as her husband at all,” one among many commenters wrote.

While OPPO was probably aiming for a tongue-in-cheek campaign featuring an energetic and youthful mother who adores her idol, the company appears to have badly misread the room.

After the ad was posted on Weibo and other social media channels ahead of Mother’s Day, backlash quickly followed.

Many netizens were confused and did not understand the reference to fan culture. Some said they were simply “baffled” by what they saw as an inappropriate message suggesting that mom was cheating—and on Mother’s Day, no less!

💬 “Without reading the comments, I thought the ad was saying the mother was cheating and didn’t love her husband, but had a side lover she was crazy about,” one Xiaohongshu commenter wrote.

Others asked whether the creators would have been willing to run a similar Father’s Day campaign with the line: “My dad has two wives.”

Fan culture remains far removed from the everyday experience of many ordinary Chinese netizens, creating not just a gender divide but also a generational and social one.

Even when people understand that an “idol husband” is purely fictional, the term 老公 (lǎogōng) still carries the literal meaning of “husband” and implies emotional devotion to someone outside the marriage. For some, that feels disrespectful.

Many also questioned the contrast at the heart of the campaign: why does mum barely dress up for dates with her husband, yet would supposedly wear a wedding dress to see a celebrity?

Others believe celebrity fandom in China has already gone too far, and felt that using this language in a mainstream advertising campaign was especially misplaced.

As one marketing commentator on Xiaohongshu Cathy聊品牌热点) put it, OPPO had managed to offend almost every relevant audience: male consumers who saw the ad as disrespectful to husbands, fandom communities who did not want their inside jokes dragged into mainstream advertising, women who support gender equality, and many others who hold strong views about traditional family values.

 

Emotional Infidelity as a Form of Female Self-Expression

 

The brand quickly took the campaign offline and apologized. But in their initial apology post, OPPO explained that it had merely intended to challenge gender stereotypes and present a “more diverse and multi-dimensional image of today’s mothers,” women who can enjoy celebrity fandoms and pursue hobbies beyond their roles as wives and mothers.

OPPO’s first apology: “Our original intention was to break stereotypes and present a more diverse and multi-dimensional image of today’s mothers.”

That explanation sparked another wave of criticism, with many arguing that OPPO had completely missed the point. Few people objected to the idea that mothers can have celebrity idols or personal passions. What many found problematic was the suggestion of romantic involvement outside the marriage.

One Weibo commenter (@甲申鬼友), who called the entire episode a “PR disaster”, suggested that the problem was that OPPO framed emotional infidelity as a form of female self-expression.

They wrote:

💬 “The controversial slogan “My mom has two husbands” was not about challenging stereotypes about mothers. Instead, it glorified the tacky behavior of a married woman calling a celebrity “husband” and wanting to wear a wedding dress to see him, presenting it as a form of female self-expression. Implicitly, it suggested that a real husband should unconditionally accept his wife’s “emotional infidelity.” (…). The message conveyed by the campaign was clear enough: it alienated men and mothers who still value loyalty and commitment in relationships.”

It soon became clear that OPPO’s handling of the issue was turning into a bigger problem than the ad itself.

As netizens continued to criticize the campaign, the controversy was amplified by blogs, mainstream media, and state-affiliated organizations.

The China Advertising Association (CAA), the country’s leading advertising body operating under state supervision, weighed in, along with the All-China Women’s Federation (ACWF), China’s main state-linked women’s organization.

Both organizations echoed familiar Party messaging, criticizing marketing that crosses the boundaries of public morality, deviates from core socialist values, violates traditional family ethics, or “misleads the public, especially young people, about social values.”

As the controversy escalated, attention also turned to OPPO’s China region brand strategy director, Yu Siyue (余思月), a graduate of Wuhan University’s School of Chinese Language and Literature.

The university itself then entered the discussion by posting a statement on Weibo saying it was “shocked” by the campaign. It said it “strongly disagrees with the content (..) and the values conveyed,” distancing itself from both the campaign and its alumna. (In a detail I found unintentionally amusing, the statement also noted that Yu had once been praised for helping an elderly passenger on a bus.)

Wuhan University itself was also criticized for inserting itself into a controversy that had little to do with the university. Chinese media outlet Yicai asked: “Who forced Wuhan University into this disastrous move?” Even political commentator Hu Xijin called the statement an overreaction and a sign of “public opinion anxiety syndrome” (舆情焦虑症).

In the end, OPPO apologizedc a second time on Monday, this time stating that both the campaign and its initial response reflected serious shortcomings in the company’s values and judgment. The company said it had lost sight of “upholding the boundaries of China’s core socialist values.”

OPPO said the incident had led to disciplinary measures against those responsible, and the company promised it would ensure that future campaigns better align with “mainstream values.”

 

Lessons to Be Learned

 

There are a few things to be learned from OPPO’s PR nightmare:

🔍 1. Marketing fails are often about the response

Once a marketing controversy breaks out, the company’s response often matters more than the original mistake. If the response fails to address the actual criticism, the fallout can become much worse than the initial problem.

🔍 2. In China, PR controversies quickly become political issues

In China, public relations is inherently political. What begins as criticism from netizens can quickly be amplified by state media and official organizations. In the process, a relatively minor marketing controversy can be reframed as a broader debate about morality and family values. Once that happens, the issue is no longer just about a poorly judged advertisement but becomes a tool for boosting official narratives and reinforcing broader Party priorities.

🔍 3. In China’s cancel culture, everyone rushes to distance themselves

Chinese online backlash can be intense and unforgiving. Once a controversy takes off, everyone rushes to distance themselves from it. The fact that OPPO’s brand director became a target, and that even Wuhan University felt compelled to issue a public statement, illustrates this dynamic. At the same time, such overreactions can backfire, especially when an organization emphasizes that it is “not involved” by publicly engaging in the controversy. Sometimes, silence really is golden.

🔍 4. Gender-related marketing in China is a minefield

This episode is another reminder of how difficult it can be for brands to engage with gender-related themes in China. Companies eager to appear youthful and relatable may underestimate just how sensitive these issues are, and how quickly a seemingly playful campaign can turn into a major controversy.

 

Not Just OPPO: When Gender-Related Marketing Goes Wrong

 

OPPO is far from alone.

In recent years, language, jokes, and messaging related to gender, feminism, and male-female relationships have become some of the most sensitive issues in Chinese advertising.

In a rapidly changing China, gender roles are evolving, identities are shifting, and ideas about what is considered feminine or masculine are increasingly contested.

Expectations around what female consumers want and what male consumers value are also in flux. Younger and older generations, and especially male and female netizens, often disagree about what is socially acceptable amid women’s growing assertiveness, persistent patriarchal attitudes, and changing global trends.

For advertisers and creative directors, this creates a particularly difficult environment. Brands are trying to tap into consumers’ purchasing power and keep up with shifting social norms, while also staying within the bounds of official values and political priorities. As a result, it is easy to misread the mood and miss the mark.

Campaigns can inadvertently reinforce traditional gender hierarchies, sexualize women, portray men in ways that spark backlash, or rely on outdated stereotypes.

And, as the OPPO case shows, even campaigns that genuinely aim to challenge stereotypes can end up provoking criticism instead.

Below are seven other examples of brand campaigns in China that backfired over the past decade.


 

💥 #1 Blue Moon: Mother’s Day Marketing Backfires

Marketing campaign (2024): “Let Mom Do the Laundry More Easily”
Main problem: Reinforcing outdated gender stereotypes

China’s household cleaning giant Blue Moon (蓝月亮) also found itself at the center of a marketing controversy after a 2024 Mother’s Day elevator ad campaign promoting its premium laundry detergent with the slogans “Let mom do the laundry more easily” (“让妈妈洗衣更轻松”) and “Mom, you use it first” (“妈妈您先用”).

Many users objected to the message, arguing that it portrayed doing laundry as something that naturally belongs to mothers and reinforced traditional gender stereotypes. As part of a Mother’s Day campaign, critics said the messaging was particularly inappropriate.

As in OPPO’s case, Blue Moon’s crisis management made matters worse. The company’s initial response suggested the controversy was merely a “misunderstanding” and said the campaign was intended to express gratitude to mothers. Many netizens disagreed, arguing that Mother’s Day and mothers doing the laundry had nothing to do with each other.


 

💥 #2 Fuyanjie: “Too Dark and Stinky”

Marketing campaign (2022): “83% of men are unwilling to go down on their partner because it’s too dark and stinky”
Main problem: Straightforwardly sexist

In 2022, the well-known Chinese feminine hygiene brand Fuyanjie (妇炎洁) promoted a pink-colored intimate wash by claiming that “surveys show that 83% of men from South Korea, Japan, and China are unwilling to go down on their partner because it’s too dark and stinky” (“中日韩三国社会调查显示:83%的男性不愿意给伴侣口爱的原因竟然是太黑太难闻下不去嘴”).

Besides promising to make the genital area pinker, the campaign also suggested that hyperpigmentation could be caused by wearing tight pants and having too much sex.

The brand drew widespread criticism for being vulgar, insulting to women, and completely unscientific. Some netizens suggested that the ad makers should focus on turning their own penises pink instead.

Fuyanjie apologized and took both the campaign and the product offline.

(Remarkably, this was the brand’s second major controversy. In 2016, one of its intimate wash products carried the slogan: “I can’t wash away your past, but I can wash your future clean” (“我不能洗掉你的过去,但我能洗干净你的未来”), a line widely criticized as slut-shaming.)


 

💥 #3 Coconut Palm: Big Boobs, Short Skirts, and a Marketing Strategy Built on Controversy

Marketing campaign (2022): Busty women in tight tops and shorts dancing on livestream
Main problem: Objectification of women & crossing official lines

During China’s National Day holiday in the 2022 Covid & livestream year, Chinese coconut drink brand Coconut Palm (椰树椰汁) found itself at the center of controversy over a series of promotional streams on Douyin.

The company had already been fined twice by authorities for advertisements and packaging suggesting that drinking Coconut Palm could promote breast enlargement.

The 2022 livestreams featured several attractive, busty women in tight tops and short shorts dancing in front of the camera. The broadcasts drew even more attention when they were repeatedly interrupted and cut off by the platform.

There was little new about the campaign. Coconut Palm’s marketing has revolved around voluptuous women and sexually suggestive slogans for more than 25 years.

One of the company’s most famous slogans was “I’ve been drinking it since I was little” (“我从小喝到大”). While literally meaning “I’ve been drinking it since childhood,” the phrase can also be interpreted as “I grew big [breasts] by drinking it.”

The livestreams reignited debate on Chinese social media about the objectification of women in advertising and online culture. Coconut Palm is the only example on this list where controversy appears to be a core part of the brand’s marketing strategy. And while regulators have repeatedly taken issue with its approach, many consumers seem to appreciate the brand precisely for its refusal to change.


 

💥 #4 Ubras: “Underwear That Helps Women Win in the Workplace”

Marketing campaign (2021): Underwear so comfortable that it can “help women lie down and win in the workplace”
Main problem: Sexist and offensive

Popular talk show host and comedian Li Dan (李诞) sparked controversy on Chinese social media in 2021 over a promotional slogan for the Chinese women’s underwear brand Ubras. Their slogan (“让女性轻松躺赢职场”) can be loosely translated as “make it easy for women to win in the workplace lying down.”

The phrase was widely interpreted as suggesting that women could use their bodies or sexuality to gain an advantage at work. According to the brand, the intended message was simply that Ubras bras are so comfortable that women could “lie down and win.” The full slogan was: “一个让女性躺赢职场的装备” — “equipment that helps women lie down and win in the workplace.”

Many people felt it was inappropriate not only for a male celebrity to promote women’s underwear, but also for the campaign to draw a connection between lingerie and workplace success.

Ubras and Li Dan both apologized for the “inappropriate wording,” and all related promotional content was removed.


 

💥 #5 Intel: When a Brand Ambassador Becomes the Controversy

Marketing campaign (2021): “Intel’s standards are even higher than mine when choosing a partner”
Main problem: Caught in China’s gender wars

Tech company Intel sparked controversy in 2021 by appointing Chinese comedian Yang Li (杨笠) as a brand ambassador in China. Yang Li had become a polarizing figure because of her jokes about men, including her famous line: “Men are adorable, but mysterious. After all, they can look so average and yet be so full of confidence.”

In Intel’s campaign, Yang said: “Intel’s standards are so high — even higher than mine when choosing a partner.” (“英特尔的眼光太高了,比我挑对象的眼光都高。”)

The line itself was relatively harmless. What triggered the backlash was Yang’s public persona.

Some male netizens accused Yang of being sexist and argued that Intel, a company selling laptops and computer chips, should not be represented by a comedian known for mocking men — especially when men were seen as a key target audience.

Intel subsequently deleted the advertisement from its social media channels and ended its collaboration with Yang Li.

That decision, however, sparked a second wave of criticism. Many female netizens accused Intel of caving to online pressure and asked what had happened to the company’s commitment to diversity and inclusion. Others mocked Intel for changing its marketing strategy to appease China’s “ordinary yet confident” men.


 

💥 #6 Juewei Duck Neck: “Tender, Juicy — Want Some?”

Marketing campaign (2017): Sexually suggestive Singles’ Day poster
Main problem: Vulgar and objectifying

Ahead of the 2017 Singles’ Day shopping festival, Chinese snack chain Juewei Duck Neck (绝味鸭脖), one of China’s largest duck neck and marinated meat brands, published a promotional poster on its Tmall store showing a cartoon woman in short shorts lying on a bed with chains around her ankles and her legs spread apart, with one of the company’s products placed in front of her.

The slogan read: “Tender, juicy — want some?” (“鲜嫩多汁,想要吗”). The sexually suggestive image triggered immediate controversy and widespread criticism.

Juewei Duck Neck later issued a nationwide apology, and both the company and the advertising agency responsible for the campaign were fined 600,000 yuan (approximately US$88,000) each.


 

💥 #7 IKEA: “If You Don’t Bring Back a Boyfriend, Don’t Call Me Mom”

Marketing campaign (2017): Turning parental pressure to marry into a lifestyle ad Main problem: Reinforcing social pressure on unmarried women

A 30-second IKEA commercial sparked controversy in China in 2017 for portraying parental pressure on an unmarried daughter to find a boyfriend.

In the ad, a mother tells her daughter at the dinner table: “If you don’t bring back a boyfriend next time, then don’t call me Mom.” (“再不带男朋友回来,就别叫我妈,”)

The doorbell then rings, and a young man holding flowers appears. The parents immediately brighten, make the living room more welcoming, and set out IKEA tableware for a celebratory meal. The tagline reads: “Celebrate everyday life easily” (“轻松庆祝每一天”).

The ad drew widespread criticism, especially because it aired at a time when many women in China were pushing back against intense social pressure to marry by a certain age. Critics argued that IKEA was trivializing this while reinforcing outdated expectations about marriage and filial duty.

IKEA apologized and removed the commercial.\


Eye on Digital China, by Manya Koetse, is co-published on Substack and What’s on Weibo. Both feature the same new content — so you can read and subscribe wherever you prefer. Substack offers community features, while What’s on Weibo provides full archive access. 

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