China Society
Explaining the Bu Xiaohua Case: How One Woman’s Disappearance Captured Nationwide Attention in China
This is why Bu Xiaohua’s 13-year disappearance became such a major topic of discussion on Chinese social media.
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Her name is Bu Xiaohua (卜小花), but for the past 13.5 years, she lived a life without that name and without any connection to the person she once was.
The story of this Chinese female MA graduate from Shanxi’s Jinzhong, born on September 1, 1979, who disappeared for over a decade and was recently found living in a village just a 2.5-hour drive from her hometown, has sparked widespread discussion on Weibo and beyond. We previously explained the story in our article here.
In brief: On November 25, 2024, a woman from Heshun County (和顺县) sought help from volunteer Zhu Yutang (朱玉堂), who focuses on reuniting families with missing loved ones, to trace the origins of her “aunt,” who had been living with her uncle Zhang Ruijun (张瑞军) for over a decade. During this time, they had multiple children together, despite the woman clearly suffering from mental illness.
As volunteer groups and authorities got involved, it was eventually revealed that the woman was Bu Xiaohua (卜小花), an MA graduate from Jinzhong who had disappeared after experiencing a schizophrenic episode in the spring of 2011. Bu was found looking emaciated, bewildered, and unkempt, and was soon reunited with her family, who immediately ensured she received the help she needed. During a medical check-up, she was found to be not only suffering from mental illness but also from malnourishment.
Bu Xiaohua in the Zhang family home.
When volunteers first met with Bu, they tried to get her to speak and learn more about her background. Among other things, she also wrote down several clues that led to the discovery of her identity, such as the names of family members. The first thing she wrote down was “run” (跑).
The note by Bu Xiaohua provided many clues about her life prior to being “taken in.”
As discussions about Bu’s disappearance continue, several aspects of this case have become focal points, highlighting the vulnerable position of Bu and many other women like her.
1. “收留”: Was She “Taken In” or Abducted?
One term that frequently comes up in discussions around Bu Xiaohua’s case is “收留” (shōu liú), meaning “to take in” or “give shelter.”
This term was used in various reports about Bu’s story, including in the first police report of December 3.
Police report of December 3, 2024, using the word “taking in.”
Many netizens pointed out that the initial police statement seemed to frame the situation as an act of human compassion, reflecting the niece’s account of how Ms. Bu allegedly “wandered” into their family home one day. The family claims they reported her to the police but eventually decided to “take her in.”
Netizens are outraged by the use of this term, as it glosses over the criminal responsibility of Zhang and his family, who essentially kept Bu Xiaohua away from her own family for over 13 years. They are accused of exploiting her mental illness and inability to consent to marriage or sexual relations, which resulted in multiple children. The exact number is unclear, though rumors suggest she had six children in total, with only two remaining in her care.
The oldest of the two children is already twelve, meaning she must have become pregnant not too long after going missing.
Some commenters have referred to this as “rape-style sheltering” (“强奸型收留”). Was it rape, human trafficking, or illegal detention?
While netizens speculated about the actual crime behind this “taking in” of a mentally ill woman, local police announced they had opened a criminal investigation into suspected illegal acts. Bu’s “husband” has since been detained, and officials are continuing to investigate the case.
No evidence or clues of Bu being trafficked have been found as of now. Investigations into the case reveal that Bu – displaying signs of mental illness according to witnesses – was alone when she walked around neighboring villages for at least ten days in July and August of 2011, some weeks after she disappeared from her home.
Bu and “husband” Zhang at her reunion with family.
The hashtags “Taking In” (#收留#) and “‘Taking In’ Shouldn’t Be Used as a Cover for Unlawful Realities” (#收留之名难掩不法之实#) have been used by netizens to protest the phrase’s use.
Online image showing all kinds of weords, from ‘human trafficking’ to ‘violence’ to shape the characters for the neutral word of ‘taking in.’
Meanwhile, some reports on the misuse of the term have been censored. The Weibo hashtag “Taking In the Female MA Graduate” (#收留女硕士#) has been taken offline and comes up with a “Sorry, the content of this topic is not displayed” message. A QQ News article titled “Female Master’s Graduate Missing for 13 Years Has Given Birth to a Son and a Daughter; The Person Who ‘Took Her In’ Responds: ‘I Didn’t Detain or Hit Her'” (“女硕士走失13年已生育一儿一女，“收留者”本人回应”) also now leads to a ‘404 page,’ indicating it has been removed.
Critics like Lawyer Zhao (@披荆斩棘赵律师), who has actively commented on this case, believe that Bu’s “husband” and his family never made any real effort to help her find her own family. They speculate that the family only agreed to let volunteers get involved because Bu’s childbearing value had long been exhausted, or because she was aging and they no longer wanted to care for her.
Zhang’s niece, whose request to volunteers initially brought this story to light, has also become an increasingly controversial figure. She recently hosted a livestream in which she claimed that the Zhang family had actually taken good care of Bu, describing her as a “good-for-nothing” who neither did housework nor fed her own children. She also defended her impoverished and disabled unlce Zhang, claiming the family is not as bad as the public says.
“Let her experience being ‘taken in’ by another family and see how she feels,” some top commenters suggested in response.
2. Lacking Law Enforcement: Systematic Failures Exposed
The outrage over the term “taking in” is directly tied to anger over inadequate law enforcement regarding the protection of women in rural China.
Years ago, local police in Heshun County, where Zhang’s family lives, were already aware of a mentally unstable woman being “taken into” a man’s home and giving birth to his children. After all, both children had a hukou (household registration). Chinese media report that police officers visited the home multiple times and allegedly continued efforts to search for her family, which indicates they understood her situation. People wonder how they could let this go on, given Zhang’s continued sexual relations with her—wouldn’t that constitute rape?
Female commenter and author Zheng Yuchuan (@郑渝川) suggested that Bu’s case is particularly troubling because of systematic failure at all levels. She wrote:
“Despite population censuses, pandemic prevention measures like mass nucleic acid testing and vaccinations, as well as the issuance of birth certificates, household registrations, and school admission procedures for the two children—every single step was carried out flawlessly. Isn’t this the biggest joke within the current institutional system?”
Although there are reports emphasizing the continued efforts of the police to find Bu’s family, many netizens aren’t convinced: “Why is it that the police took blood samples and conducted facial recognition comparisons, yet after 13 years, they achieved nothing? Meanwhile, a volunteer, using just a bit of intelligence, managed to make her write down some names, and this bizarre case was solved.”
Law blogger Zhang San (@张三同学) commented: “A single crime pollutes a river; a single act of unjust law enforcement pollutes the entire water source.”
3. A Brilliant Mind: Bu Xiaohua’s Academic Achievements
Another recurring topic is Bu’s academic achievements before her life with the Zhang family. Bu was a student in Yanshan University’s (燕山大学) Mechanics and Engineering program, a prestigious major.
In 2004, she wrote a thesis titled “Temperature Field of a Thin Plate with Curved Cracks During Electrothermal Crack Arrest” (带有曲线裂纹薄板电热止裂时的温度场). Her 2006 thesis was “Small Bending Deformation of an Elastic Thin Plate Under Continuous Transverse Flow-Around Conditions” (不间断横向绕流条件下弹性薄板的小弯曲变形). She obtained her MA degree in 2008.
Bu had planned to continue in academia, but due to an expired ID card, she was unable to register for her Ph.D. exam—a setback that marked the beginning of her rapidly deteriorating mental health. This eventually led to her leaving her home one day in 2011, vanishing without a trace, and ending up in her dire situation with the Zhang family.
Bu Xiaohua’s diploma
Her education is significant to the story in many ways. First, it serves as an important bridge to her past. One of her former professors, the 82-year-old Bai Xiangzhong (白象忠), was one of the names Bu first wrote on a note when volunteers from the missing persons organization came to her house and asked her about her life.
The name of Professor Bai Xiangzhong is one of the names Bu wrote down on a memo in the presence of volunteers trying to learn more about her life.
In recent news, it became known that Bai Xiangzhong learned of Bu’s story and was moved to tears upon hearing about her circumstances.
Bu’s education is also an important part of her identity. Recent videos showed Bu reading a book and pushing back her glasses—which she hadn’t had for 13.5 years—as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
Recent videos showed Bu reading a book and pushing back her glasses—which she hadn’t had for 13.5 years—as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
One popular Weibo blogger (@我不是谦哥儿) wrote:
“More than the Master’s degree she obtained years ago, it’s this natural skill [the way she reads and pushes back her glasses] in which we can directly observe and vividly feel the life she had. We can feel that, if it were not for the dusky farmhouse in the mountainous area where she got trapped, there would have been an entirely different possibility [for her life].”
But her education is also significant in other ways. It shows that it is not just low-income, less-educated, rural women who can become victims of rape and human trafficking, but that even women with a university degree can end up in such situations.
4. Bu Xiaohua’s Case: A Reflection of Larger Social Issues
In the end, the story of Bu Xiaohua is attracting so much attention because she represents much more than just herself.
One of the most well-known stories similar to hers is that of Xiao Huamei (小花梅), the mother of eight children who was found tied to a shed in Xuzhou in 2022. After her story became a major trending topic on Chinese social media, local authorities launched a thorough investigation and uncovered the woman’s true identity. They found that she had been a victim of human trafficking back in 1998.
Like Bu, Xiao Huamei also suffered from mental illness. And similar to Bu’s case, local authorities failed to step in. The family received subsidies, and local officials approved the marriage between the mentally ill woman and her husband, Dong Zhimin, who was later sentenced to prison for his involvement in the human trafficking case.
This all brings back associations with the Chinese film Blind Mountain (盲山, 2007). Directed by Li Yang (李杨), the movie revolves around Bai Xuemei (白雪梅), a recent college graduate who is tricked into traveling to a remote mountain village under the pretense of securing a job. Once there, she is drugged, kidnapped, and sold into a forced marriage with a rural farmer. Trapped in the isolated and impoverished village, she faces constant physical and psychological abuse from her “husband,” his family, and even the local community, who see her captivity as normal or necessary. Despite multiple attempts to escape, she is repeatedly caught and encounters indifference or complicity from those around her, including the police. She is only rescued years later.
From Blind Mountain (2007).
Films such as Blind Mountain and the 2022 case of Xiao Huamei have helped create more awareness of the vulnerable position of Chinese women in rural areas, particularly those dealing with mental or physical disabilities. Last year, a marriage in Henan was denied after a local official found the woman, who was deaf and mute, had not learned sign language and could not write (read more).
But the problem persists. China, particularly its rural villages, faces a shortage of women stemming from the decades-long one-child policy and a traditional preference for boys. This has been further exacerbated by women migrating out of villages in search of better prospects. As a result, many rural single men are unable to marry, especially when they face additional challenges such as poverty or disability. Since marriage and children are considered social norms, these men and their families are often willing to take drastic measures. This situation has fueled the human trafficking of women for forced marriage in China since the 1980s.
“Why not re-release Blind Mountain?” some wonder. “It feels so relevant today.”
As for Bu, she is currently doing well given the circumstances. Her brother, who searched for her for so many years, is determined to take care of his sister. “My little sister is the treasure of our entire family,” he recently said. “Every day that I am on this earth is a day that I will take care of her.”
By Manya Koetse
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China Society
China Trend Watch: From a Hospital in Crisis to Chaotic Pig Feasts
From 5,000 people crashing a rural pig feast in Chongqing to the collective effort to save Yanran Angel hospital.
🔥 China Trend Watch (1.22.26)
Part of Eye on Digital China by Manya Koetse, China Trend Watch is an overview of what’s trending and being discussed on Chinese social media. The previous newsletter was a deep dive into the Dead Yet? app phenomenon. This edition was sent to paid subscribers — subscribe to receive the next issue in your inbox.
However, there are dozens of other topics being discussed on Chinese social media that actually aren’t about the US or the shifting geopolitical landscape. From football to pig-slaughter feasts, from a Henan grandpa in Paris to the latest birth rates, there is an entire world of topics out there that’s blissfully unconnected to anything happening in Washington or Davos — with many of these discussions signaling bigger social stories unfolding in China today. Let’s dive in.
Quick Scroll
- 🐶 “Eat more dog meat,” a local Community Health Service Center in Ya’an advised in a seasonal health text, suggesting it would help people stay healthy & warm during cold weather. The message sparked controversy among dog lovers online. The center later apologized and issued a corrected version, replacing dog meat with lamb, beef, and chestnuts.
- ⚽ Chinese goalkeeper Li Hao (李昊) is the man of the moment after China’s under-23 national football team beat Vietnam (0-3) and advanced to the final of the AFC U23 Asian Cup. It marks the first time since 2004 that any Chinese men’s national team (at any level) has reached the final of a continental tournament. In the final, China will face Japan.
- 👶 China’s latest birth data for 2025 are in, showing yet another record low. The birth rate fell to 5.63 per 1,000 people, with 7.92 million babies born last year — a 17% year-on-year decline.
- 💸 An “underground” private tutoring operation in Beijing has been hit with a staggering fine of more than 67 million yuan (US$9.6 million) for offering after-school classes without official approval. It’s the highest fine so far under China’s “Double Reduction” policy, introduced in 2021 to curb private tutoring and ease academic pressure on students.
- 🕯️ He Jiaolong (贺娇龙), a Xinjiang local official who was at the forefront of Chinese officials livestreaming & promoting their regions in creative online ways, died this week after a fatal fall from a horse during work-related filming. She was 47 years old.
- 🎭 Another death that trended this week was that of renowned Chinese comedian Yang Zhenhua (杨振华, b. 1936), a crosstalk (相声) artist remembered for his classic performances and widely regarded as a cultural icon.
- 🏛️ A child abuse case that has haunted Chinese netizens for the past two years has come to a close. Xu Jinhua (许金花), the stepmother who tortured and starved her 12-year-old stepdaughter, known as “Qiqi,” to death, was executed on January 20. Xu was sentenced to death in April 2025, and her appeal was rejected last November.
What Really Stood Out This Week
1. Mass Shutdowns of Local Chinese Pig-Slaughter Feasts
Annual pig feasts are traditionally meant to be a source of community bonding and ritual exchange. But for many towns and districts, páozhūyàn (刨猪宴), traditional pig-slaughter feasts, have now become a source of concern, leading to shutdowns of local events across multiple provinces.
The story begins on January 9, when a farmer’s daughter nicknamed Daidai (呆呆) from Hezhou in Chongqing posted a lighthearted message on Douyin asking whether people could help with her family’s pig slaughter, saying her old dad would not be able to hold down the two pigs. In return, she promised to treat helpers to “pork soup and rice,” adding: “To be honest, I just want the road in front of my house to be packed with cars, even more than at a wedding. I want to finally prove myself in the village!”
Two days later, on January 11, when the pig feast took place, Daidai got more than she had asked for. Not only was the road in front of her home packed with cars — the entire village was completely blocked as over 1,000 cars and some 5,000 visitors arrived. With two pigs nowhere near enough, five pigs ended up being slaughtered. Livestreamers flooded the scene, Daidai’s name was quickly trademarked, and before she knew it, she had entered internet history — including her own Baidu page — as the girl who turned a local gathering into a national feast.
Daidai (middle) hadn’t expected her call for help with slaughtering two pigs would end up in 5000 people coming to her town.
By now, the incident has spiraled into a much bigger issue, as others in the Sichuan–Chongqing region want to replicate the viral success of Hechuan, creating chaos and sometimes unsafe situations by turning neighborhood moments into tourist activities. This has led to a series of events being canceled or shut down.
On January 14, a planned páozhūyàn, initiated by local influencer Jia Laolian (假老练) in Longquanyi District in Chengdu, had to be canceled at the last minute after thousands of people registered to attend. On January 17, an online influencer in Caijiagang Subdistrict, Chongqing, also held a free pig-slaughter feast that quickly led to potentially dangerous overcrowding. Police shut it down. Another event took place in Ziyang, where 8,000 people had registered to attend while there were only 200 parking spaces available. There were more.
The current hype surrounding these pig-slaughter events reflects a sense of urban–rural nostalgia for local traditions and human connections, but probably says more about how viral tourism in China has worked since the frenzy surrounding Zibo: at lightning speed, influencers and local tourism bureaus jump onto fast-moving trends, hoping to get their own viral moment and, quite literally, piggyback on it.
While these moments can create a moment of hype, the downsides are clear: a lack of oversight, weak crowd management, intrusion to local communities, and lives being suddenly disrupted. For now, ‘Daidai’ has gained about two million users on her social media account. She says she hopes to do “something meaningful” with her online influence and has become an organic ambassador for Hechuan. At the same time, she also wants some calm after the storm, saying:“The Zhaozhu Yan in Heichuan has concluded successfully. I hope everyone can return to their normal lives. I also hope my parents can go back to their previous life—I don’t want them dragged into the internet world.”
2. How a Hospital Crisis Won China’s Trust
Usually, when news emerges about Chinese celebrities facing debts or court papers, it signals a serious blow to their reputation. But in a case that trended over the past week involving Chinese actor/businessman Li Yapeng (李亚鹏) and singer/pop icon Faye Wong (Wang Fei 王菲), the opposite is true.
Li and Wong were previously married and are parents to a daughter born with a cleft lip and palate. Their experiences in getting treatment and surgery for their daughter led them to become deeply involved with the efforts to help other children. In 2006, they founded the Yanran Angel Foundation (嫣然天使基金). A few years later, they established the Yanran Angel Children’s Hospital (嫣然天使儿童医院), China’s first privately-operated non-profit children’s hospital, providing surgeries, orthodontics, speech therapy, and other support to thousands of children—many of them at no cost for underprivileged families.
For the first ten years that Li and his team leased the hospital location, the landlord provided them with heavily discounted rent as a sign of his goodwill. In 2019, that agreement ended, and the rent doubled to market value at 11 million yuan per year (over US$1.5 million). But then Covid hit, and while the hospital still had all of its staffing and lease costs, surgeries were postponed.
On January 14 this year, Li Yapeng posted a lengthy video on his Douyin account titled “The Final Confrontation” (最后的面对), in which he explains how they fell behind on their rent since 2022, now finding themselves in a debt of 26 million yuan (over US$1.5 million) and facing a court judgement that leaves them with little choice but to vacate the premises and shut the hospital down.
Something that struck a chord with netizens is how Li, who bears joint liability for the unpaid rent, made no excuses and openly acknowledged his legal obligations, while at the same time emphasizing his personal sense of responsibility to ensure that children waiting for surgery would still receive the help that had been promised to them.
Public perception of Li Yapeng, who was previously seen as a failed businessman, transformed overnight. He was suddenly hailed as a hero who had quietly devoted himself to charity all this time, while accumulating personal debts.
Donations started flooding in. Within two days, over 180,000 people had donated a total of 9 million yuan (US$1.3 million), and by January 19 this had grown to more than 310,000 people supporting the hospital with nearly 20 million yuan (US$2.8 million). Beyond direct donations, netizens also supported Li Yapeng by tuning into his e-commerce livestreams. One businessman from Jiangsu even offered 30,000 square meters of free space for the hospital to relocate.
Meanwhile, netizens began wondering why Faye Wong, Li’s ex-wife with whom he had founded the foundation and hospital, was staying quiet. Just as some started to label her a diva who no longer cared about the cause, a 2023 audit report revealed that since divorcing Li Yapeng in 2013, she had been anonymously donating to the fund every year for a decade, totaling more than 32.6 million yuan (US$4.6 million) to cover rent and staff salaries.
There are many aspects to this story that have caused it to go viral, and that make it particularly noteworthy. It is not just the turnaround in public sentiment regarding Li and Faye Wong, but also the fact that people are more willing to donate to a cause they genuinely believe in. Although Li and Wong’s foundation technically falls under the Red Cross system, that organization has faced significant criticism and public distrust in China over the years.
What also helps are the personal stories shared on social media by those who have had direct experience with the hospital, or who know people working there. These include deeply moving accounts from families who saw all their savings depleted while trying to get proper care for their three-year-old child born with a cleft lip, then traveling for days from Gansu to Beijing with little more than a sliver of hope—only to learn that their child would not only receive surgery for free, but that the hospital would also help cover temporary lodging and travel costs. Many feel that causes like this are rare, and deserve to continue.
After years of stories about celebrities evading taxes, good causes misspending money, and corruption getting mixed up with charity, this is a story that restores trust — showing that some celebrities truly care, that some charities do turn every penny into help for those in need, and that netizens can genuinely make a difference. “This is the most heartwarming news at the start of the year,” one Weibo commenter wrote.
For now, it remains unclear whether the hospital can remain at its current location, but operations continue, and negotiations are ongoing. Fundraising has been paused for the time being, as annual donation targets have already been exceeded.
3. The Sudden Death of a 32-Year-Old Programmer and the Renewed Debate Over China’s Tech Overtime Culture
The sudden death of a 32-year-old programmer who worked at a tech company in Guangzhou is sparking discussion these days, as his death is being linked to the extreme overtime work culture in China’s tech sector.
The story is attracting online attention mainly because his wife, using the nickname “Widow” (遗孀), has been documenting her grieving journey on social media, sharing stories about how she misses her late husband and the things she wishes had gone differently. He was always working late, and she often asked him to come home when he still hadn’t returned by 10:00, 11:00 p.m., or even midnight.
Gao Guanghui (高广辉) worked as a software engineer and department manager. Despite his “seriously overloaded” working schedule, his now-widowed wife describes their life together as “very happy.”
On Saturday, November 29, 2025, the day of his passing, Gao mentioned that although he was feeling unwell, he still had work matters with approaching deadlines to handle. Browser records show that he accessed the company’s internal system at least five times that morning before fainting and experiencing sudden urinary incontinence.
While preparing to go to the hospital, Gao reportedly urged his wife to bring his laptop with them so that he could finish his tasks. However, he collapsed before the two had even gotten into the car. Despite an ambulance arriving at 9:14 a.m. and efforts to save him, he passed away two hours later. He died of cardiac arrest, and hospital records note his high-pressure, long-hour work schedule.
Even in the final moments of his life, work continued to intrude. Gao was added to a work WeChat group at 10:48 a.m., while hospital staff were still attempting to resuscitate him. Hours after his death was declared, colleagues continued to send him work messages, including one at 9:09 p.m. asking him to urgently fix an issue.
Making matters worse, Gao’s widow says that in the second week after his death, his company had already processed his resignation and disposed of his belongings. The items that were sent to her were crushed and poorly packed. To this day, she says she has received no apology, no compensation, no replacement items, and none of her husband’s missing belongings.
Visuals dedicated to Gao, shared on Xiaohongshu.
On social media, people are angry. Reading about Gao’s life story — and how he was always a hard worker, sometimes working two jobs at a time — many comments indicate that it is often the most dedicated ones who get pressured the most. They see him as a victim of tech companies like CVTE that go against official guidelines and perpetuate a work culture where working overtime becomes the norm, only leading to more workload.
This is not the first time such a story has gone viral. In 2021, the death of an employee who worked at Pinduoduo triggered similar discussions about strenuous “996” schedules (working 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days per week).
Similar deaths include the 2011 case of 25-year-old PwC auditor Pan Jie, whose story went viral on Sina Weibo after doctors concluded that overwork may have played a crucial role in her death. Likewise, the at-desk death of a 24-year-old Ogilvy employee in Beijing and the 2016 death of Jin Bo, deputy editor-in-chief of one of China’s leading online forums, also prompted calls for greater public awareness of the risks of overwork — especially among young professionals.
On the Feed
“Paris Without the Filter”
“Filter-Free Paris,” or “Paris without a filter” (素颜巴黎), unexpectedly went viral after a grandpa from China’s Henan province, traveling with a senior tour group, shared his unfiltered and casual photos of rainy Paris. In an age when European travel photos are often heavily filtered and glamorized on Chinese social media, many found the grandpa’s grey, plain images of the “City of Romance” not only amusing but also refreshingly honest.
Seen Elsewhere
• A Chinese state media editorial framed the Greenland dispute as a “wake-up call” for Europe to reduce its reliance on the US. (CHINA DAILY)
• Why Western “Chinamaxxing” and “very Chinese time” memes say more about a “decay of the American dream” than about China itself. (WIRED)
• WIRED seems to be at a “very Chinese time” itself, and also launched its China issue, introducing 23 ways you’re already living in the ‘Chinese Century.’ (WIRED)
Title/Image via Wired, Andria Lo
• As Trump sows division, China says it’s the calm, dependable leader the world needs. (CNN)
• Nostalgia for the Cultural Revolution has become one of the few legally viable means of resistance, according to Shijie Wang. (CHINATALK)
That’s a wrap! Thanks for reading.
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See you next edition!
— Manya
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. If you’re already subscribed and want to switch platforms, just get in touch for help. If you no longer wish to receive these newsletters, or are receiving duplicate editions, you can unsubscribe at any time.
Chapter Dive
Why Were 100,000 Pregnant Women’s Blood Samples Smuggled Out of China?
How and why fetal sex testing became a national security story
A noteworthy story in Chinese media recently, which also made it to the top trending lists on Kuaishou and Weibo, concerns the uncovering of a widespread criminal network that smuggled blood samples from over 100,000 pregnant women across the border, exposing a black-market chain active across all provinces of China. In this deeper dive, I look at what received far less attention: why so many pregnant women were willing to provide their blood in the first place.
The case was part of a major operation by Guangzhou’s anti-smuggling authorities following a year-long investigation and the mobilization of 265 officers. As part of the operation, two professional criminal groups specializing in the smuggling of pregnant women’s blood samples were dismantled, and a total of 26 people were arrested.
The groups earned a staggering 30 million yuan (US$4.2 million) from their blood-smuggling activities.
So far, the story reads almost like a vampire novel, especially with Chinese media detailing how the blood was smuggled: smugglers reportedly strapped tubes of blood to their bodies to cross the border. Others hid them in specially modified suitcases with concealed compartments.
Some commenters framed the story as the smuggling of “life samples carrying the genetic code of Chinese citizens,” and as the “poaching of ethnic genetic resources,” arguing that the data security implications could be serious if the blood were to be used for research by those with ulterior motives.
Other netizens suggested that “insiders within medical institutions must be involved,” possibly even through broader “cross-border project collaborations.” These suspicions were fueled by official reporting. Overall, the online media discourse surrounding the case focused on the risks these practices pose to national biosecurity, with fears that foreign entities could appropriate China’s human genetic information.
In reality, however, this story is about the widespread demand in China for prenatal blood testing for fetal sex determination.
The groups uncovered by Guangzhou authorities received blood from some 100,000 pregnant women because the women provided it themselves. The groups (illegally) advertised on social media that they offered non-invasive fetal sex identification and genetic disease screening, with clients paying fees of 2,000–3,000 yuan (US$285–US$426) for these blood tests.
According to Guancha.cn, the blood would be drawn by “acquaintances” or through online medical platforms, after which the samples would be mailed by courier to a designated address, where they were collected, concealed by smugglers, and delivered to overseas laboratories for testing.
Smuggled blood as seen in CCTV feature
Although none of the Chinese news reports on this case disclose where these “overseas labs” are actually located, the reports mention cooperation between authorities in Guangzhou, Foshan, and Shenzhen, and the details provided make it highly probable that the case concerns the mainland–Hong Kong border.
In a recent CCTV feature on the news, Zheng Zhong (郑重), Deputy Director of the Investigation Division of the Guangzhou Customs Anti-Smuggling Bureau, said:
“China has explicitly prohibited the determination of fetal sex for non-medical needs, which is a protection of the fetus’s right to life. It is also to maintain a healthy population ratio. Blood sample smuggling poses a high potential risk to public interests and national biosecurity.”
Fetal sex determination has been illegal in China since the first regulation in 1989, with later laws specifically outlawing the use of ultrasound imaging or other techniques to identify fetal sex.
Why Fetal Sex Determination Still Matters
Why did Zheng mention the prohibition of fetal sex determination tests in China to “maintain a healthy population ratio”?
Although abortion has generally been permitted in China—which has one of the most lenient abortion regimes in the world—strict controls on sex-selective abortions have been in place since the early 1990s.
One of the unintended effects of China’s one-child policy since 1979 has been the widespread occurrence of sex-selective pregnancy terminations, linked to traditional son preference. Fetal sex identification has been a precursor to these abortions, contributing to severe distortions in the country’s sex ratio. Non-medical fetal sex identification and sex-selective abortion came to be known as the “two illegitimates.”[1]
Now that China is entering its first decade since the end of the one-child policy, you might expect that these “two illegitimates” have become less pressing issues. After all, with couples now allowed to have more than one child (even three children or more), why would sex determination still be so relevant that 100,000 women would continue to submit blood samples despite the practice officially being illegal?
🔎 In reality, research suggests that the end of China’s one-child policy has not been the turning point it was perhaps expected to be. Although it has reduced pressures, its impact on son preference and sex-selective practices has been somewhat underwhelming.[2]
Since 2016, there has indeed been a rise in daughter preference and gender indifference, as well as a decline in male-to-female sex ratios at birth, but significant regional differences remain and son preference persists, alongside sex-selective abortion.[3] As a result, the sex ratio at birth remains skewed in certain provinces, especially for first births.[4]
👉 So what does this mean in practice? It means that, despite laws and regulations, expecting parents are still eager to find ways to identify fetal sex by whatever means possible (blood-based tests, ultrasound scans), and that agencies able to profit from this desire have been widespread for years.
In provinces like Jiangxi, Fujian, Guangdong, Guangxi, Hubei, and Hunan, which together with Hainan accounted for more than a third of all births in China in 2020, there is still a deeply rooted familism culture and an abnormally high number of male births.[5]
Even though Chinese authorities introduced specific measures more than a decade ago to ban the mailing of blood samples overseas for fetal sex identification, underground networks smuggling fetal blood samples to Hong Kong for gender testing have been rampant—and this goes well beyond 100,000 samples.
Framing Pregnant Women’s Blood Smuggling in Chinese State Media
It is noteworthy that Chinese coverage of this case leaves out issues related to fetal sex selection, the persistence of sex-selective practices in post–one-child China, and parents’ willingness to learn the sex of their fetus to such an extent that they are prepared to pay large sums of money for this information.
In the 8-minute CCTV feature on this case, as well as in other reports, the core narrative centers on how an organized criminal network that endangered national biological security by illegally smuggling pregnant women’s blood samples was successfully dismantled by Chinese authorities through state surveillance and coordinated law enforcement.
China has, in fact, strict laws on the protection of human genetic resources. Since 2019, regulations have specifically prohibited foreign entities from collecting genetic material within China and restricted the transfer of genetic material and related data out of China. Any research involving Chinese human genetic resources must be conducted through approved collaboration with a qualified Chinese institution (see China Law Translate).
In the CCTV report, fetal sex identification is mentioned only briefly: first, in describing how the criminal group attracted customers online, and second, by Zhong, to emphasize that the practice is illegal. This framing places the entire issue within the domains of legality, regulation, and security, while the ethical, socio-cultural, and gender dimensions that lie at the root of the practice are entirely ignored.
Word cloud generated with the assistance of AI, based on the fully transcribed and translated text of the main CCTV investigative report on the blood-smuggling case.
Instead, the case is narrated using dominant language such as “blood smuggling,” “genetic resources,” and “security.” This framing has led to some confusion online. One of the most popular search queries related to the story on Weibo was: “What is the purpose of smuggling pregnant women’s blood samples abroad?” (孕妇血液样本走私境外目的是什么).
On Xiaohongshu, some commenters similarly asked: “I just don’t understand what pregnant women’s blood is used for.” Another user replied: “They can extract genetic codes, create a virus, and kill us with it.”
There are, however, many commenters who directly connect the case to its underlying issue. One woman on Xiaohongshu asked: “Isn’t it possible to tell [the fetus’s sex] just by doing a B-ultrasound? Why would they spend so much money to draw blood?” Another commenter replied: “It takes several months before you can do an ultrasound. A blood test is faster, and you can know the result before the abortion deadline.” (In some regions of China, non-medical abortions are not permitted after 14 weeks of pregnancy.)
Demographic Anxiety and Shifts in Narratives
Chinese headlines about the uncovering of the blood-smuggling operations appeared in the same week when netizens discussed unofficial reports about China’s 2025 estimated birth rates, suggesting that the country’s fertility rate will hit another historic low and fall to second-lowest in the world (higher only than South Korea), with a total fertility rate of about 1.09.
“Let people with money have kids,” some commenters suggested. “Right now, it’s hard for young people to get a job. When you can’t even find a job, who would think of having kids?”
Another person on Weibo wrote: “I’m part of the elite social class with a PhD degree, and yet I’m miserable. I’m pessimistic and disappointed about the future. I won’t have kids, won’t buy [a house], and won’t get married.”
Over the past years, and especially recently, Chinese authorities have introduced numerous measures in attempts to boost the country’s birth rates, from child-rearing subsidies to taxes on contraceptives.
In this light, tackling illegal practices involving fetal sex identification is more relevant than ever—and pushing such news to the top of China’s trending lists, together with frightening narratives about blood thieves and biosecurity risks, serves as a warning as much to smugglers as to expecting mothers not to engage in such practices. In this context, expecting parents would not only be crossing legal red lines by testing the sex of their unborn child, but would also be framed as handing over China’s national DNA to potential foreign enemies.
🔴 In doing so, Chinese official narratives shift, yet also fall back into old habits: at a time when fertility is dramatically dropping and confidence among young people in love & marriage is eroding, the state does more than regulate or guide ideas about family planning and fetal sex determination; it changes the meanings attached to it.
But there’s also a side effect to these stories. Because official news coverage presents the case as one of potential risks of Chinese genetic data being stolen, while largely leaving out the relevant social context, some ordinary Chinese netizens have begun to worry about what happens to their blood samples at hospitals once they leave their check-up appointments.
“Can they profit from it?” some wonder, while others worry about unintentionally contributing to future biological warfare.
Ultimately, the story of “blood smuggling” is not just about smugglers or overseas laboratories. It is about how, in an era of increasing demographic anxiety, reproductive behavior is increasingly reframed through the language of security.
Luckily, many genuinely don’t see what all the fuss is about: “People would really smuggle pregnant women’s blood abroad for what? Is it really so important to know whether you’re having a boy or a girl?”🔚
📌🎬 Although I also published last week, I didn’t send that article as a newsletter. So, in case you missed it, here’s a short recap: the past year has been a tumultuous one for China’s entertainment industry, and especially for renowned director Wong Kar-wai. After the success of the TV drama Shanghai Blossoms, a former screenwriter accused Wong and his team of discrediting, exploiting, and abusing him.
The case was already explosive, but it became even more sensitive when audio recordings were leaked in which Wong criticised the Party. Almost any other celebrity would likely have been blacklisted for such remarks, yet Wong seems to have escaped that fate. Why? You can explore the case in this in-depth article by Ruixin Zhang. It’s worth the read.
👉 This piece is part of Chapters, the format I use for deeper, more analytical pieces. Alongside Chapters, I also publish Signals, which tracks slower-moving shifts in Chinese online culture and digital life, and China Trend Watch, which offers a regular overview of what has been trending across China’s digital platforms. Keep an eye on the upcoming editions to follow the thread.
By Manya Koetse
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[1] Ruby Lai Yuen Shan, “The Transformation of Abortion Law in China,” in Research Handbook on International Abortion Law, edited by Mary Ziegler (Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar Publishing, 2023), 172–73.
[2] Xinyi Zhang, “Estimating the Effect on the Sex Ratio of the Two-Child Policy: Evidence from China,” Proceedings of the International Conference on Social Psychology and Humanity Studies 9 (2023): 1–8.
[3] Li Mei and Quanbao Jiang, “Sex-Selective Abortions over the Past Four Decades in China,” Population Health Metrics 23, no. 6 (2025): 1–16.
[4] Mengjun Tang and Jiawei Hou, “Changes of Sex Ratio at Birth and Son Preferences in China: A Mixed Method Study,” China Population and Development Studies 8 (2024): 1–27.
[5] Tang and Hou, “Changes of Sex Ratio at Birth,” 4–5.
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