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

(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)

[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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On the evening of October 12, while the Netherlands vs. Finland World Cup qualifier became a hot topic on Weibo (#荷兰4比0芬兰#), something else entirely made headlines — not about goals, but about chips.

Chinese company Wingtech Technology (闻泰科技) issued a statement saying that the Dutch government, citing national security concerns, had imposed global operational restrictions on Nexperia (安世半导体), a Dutch semiconductor company based in Nijmegen that has been wholly owned by the Chinese Wingtech conglomerate since 2019.

The Dutch government reportedly ordered a one-year freeze on strategic and governance changes across Nexperia on September 30, but the news only went trending on Chinese social media after Wingtech revealed the suspension (the topic became no 1 on Toutiao on Sunday).

Wingtech said that Nexperia’s Chinese CEO, Zhang Xuezheng (张学政), was also suspended, and that an independent, non-Chinese director was appointed who can legally represent the company.

That was ordered by a Dutch court following internal upheaval — Nexperia’s Dutch and German executives, including Legal Chief Ruben Lichtenberg, CFO Stefan Tilger, and COO Achim Kempe, filed a petition with the Dutch Enterprise Chamber requesting emergency measures to suspend Zhang and place the company’s shares under temporary court management. The court agreed (also see the Pekingnology newsletter by Zichen Wang, who was among the first to report on this issue).

The next day, on October 13, Dutch newspapers reported on the freeze, describing it as a rare move. NRC called it “an emergency measure intended to prevent chip-related intellectual property from leaving the country,” adding that, according to insiders, “there were indications that Nexperia was planning to transfer chip know-how to China.”

The Dutch government later clarified that the so-called Goods Availability Act (Wet Beschikbaarheid Goederen) was applied “following recent and acute signals of serious governance shortcomings and actions within Nexperia,” to protect Dutch and European economic security and safeguard crucial technological knowledge.

That specific law dates back to the Cold War era of 1952 and, according to Pim Jansen, professor of economic administrative law at Erasmus University Rotterdam, has never been invoked before. (Due to the unique situation, Jansen almost wanted to dub it the “Nexperia law.”)

🇳🇱 Nexperia (安世半导体) is a spin-off from chipmaker NXP, which in turn originated from Royal Philips. The company produces basic semiconductors that are used everywhere, from phones to cars. Since becoming independent in 2017, its headquarters in Nijmegen has expanded from about 150 to nearly 500 employees. Across its production sites in Germany, the UK, and Asia, Nexperia employs more than 10,000 people.

🇨🇳 Wingtech Technology (闻泰科技) is a major Chinese tech conglomerate listed on the A-share market and based in Jiaxing, combining two core businesses: semiconductors and electronics manufacturing. The company started in 2005 as a smartphone design and assembly firm (ODM) serving brands such as Xiaomi, Samsung, and Lenovo, and has since become one of the world’s largest mobile device manufacturers.

The recent developments are a big blow to Wingtech, as it basically means won’t be able to control day-to-day decisions at its most valuable subsidiary.

According to Wingtech, the suspension is politically motivated rather than fact-based and constitutes a serious violation of the market economy principles, fair competition, and international trade rules that the EU itself advocates.

The Wider Tech War Context

The Nexperia news is not an isolated case – it comes at a time when many things are happening at once.

🧩 On October 1, Dutch media reported that, due to tightening export rules announced by the United States, no American parts or software can be sold to Nexperia without a US license anymore because Nexperia’s Chinese parent company, Wingtech, is already on the American “Entity List,” and all of the company’s subsidiaries now also fall under the extended US export restrictions that took effect on September 29.

🧩 According to a Dutch media report on October 2, Nexperia said it strongly disagreed with the new export restrictions and was working on measures to limit their impact on its operations.

🧩 Barely two weeks prior, on September 18, China banned its tech companies from buying Nvidia AI chips from the American Nvidia, citing antitrust and national security reasons.

🧩 As of October, China also added several prominent Western companies to its Unreliable Entity List, including the Canadian-based research firm TechInsights.

🧩 And, as if that all wasn’t enough, China dramatically expanded its rare earth export controls on Thursday, expected to have a direct impact on the global semiconductor supply chain, while President Trump announced 100% tariffs on all Chinese imports and new export controls on “any and all critical software.”

👉 Regardless of how directly all these events are connected to what has happened in the Netherlands, one thing is clear: the global tech war is intensifying, with control over the semiconductor ecosystem now a top strategic priority.

And whatever the exact reasons or details behind the freeze of Nexperia’s strategic operations, on Chinese social media the move is being framed within a broader narrative — that of Western containment aimed at curbing China’s rapid rise as a global technological power.

Chinese Social Media Responses

On Chinese social media, commentators are denouncing the Netherlands.

One finance-focused Weibo blogger (@董指导挤出俩酒窝) wrote:

💬✍️ “By 2024, Nexperia contributed 14.7 billion RMB (2 billion U.S. dollars) in revenue and nearly 40% gross profit margin [to the Dutch economy]. According to Wingtech’s data, it also paid 130 million euros in corporate income tax to the Netherlands (..) This should have been a textbook case of mutual success – Chinese capital brought markets and vitality; the Netherlands benefited from taxes and employment; technology continued to grow in value within the global supply chain. Yet the Netherlands, showing its “pirate spirit”, destroyed this successful example with its own hands..”

That sentiment — that the Netherlands is treating China unfairly despite Chinese contributions to the Dutch economy and business — was echoed across social media. On the Q&A platform Zhihu, some users called it “a dramatic story”:

💬✍️ “Wingtech spent hundreds of billions of yuan to acquire a long-established European semiconductor company, thinking it had finally gained access to core global technology. But before long, others pulled the rug out from under them, right in front of the whole world.”

Commenter Yan Yaofei (晏耀飞) said:

💬✍️ “It’s like you bought a cow and keep it in someone else’s barn — you tell them how to feed and use it, and they have no right to interfere. Then suddenly, they lock you out of the barn entirely. It basically can be classified as robbery, openly and shamelessly.”

Another Weibo commenter (@就是赵老哥) wrote:

💬✍️ “It feels like the Netherlands is making a fuss. Back then, they sold us a loss-making company and now they’re backing out. This will have a big impact on the semiconductor sector. Foreign companies are unreliable, even when you buy their companies, they’re still unreliable. Domestic substitution is the only way forward.”

Alongside mistrust toward the West and perceptions that the Netherlands has treated China unfairly, even betraying it, many online discussions also frame the move as part of a broader political provocation. At the same time, a recurring theme on social media is the belief that China must strengthen its domestic semiconductor industry.

Finance blogger Tengteng’s Dad (@腾腾爸) wrote:

💬✍️ “The Dutch government’s freezing of the shares of Wingtech Technology’s Dutch subsidiary reminds me of the Ping An–Fortis incident years ago. Europe hasn’t changed, it’s still the same shameless Europe. It’s just that my fellow countrymen have thought too highly of them, thanks to all those “public intellectuals” who have spent years diligently promoting their Western masters. Now, more and more Chinese people are opening their eyes. In the future, all that Western talk about democracy, rule of law, and freedom will completely lose its appeal in China.”

Chinese Narratives of Europe

The online reactions to the Nexperia incident echo broader Chinese narratives about Europe that have been circulating in the digital sphere for the past decade.

Last Thursday, the topic of Chinese narratives of Europe happened to be the main theme of a panel I joined during the ReConnect China Conference in The Hague, hosted by the Clingendael China Centre (event page).

In preparation for this event, I focused mostly on the social media angle of these narratives. I looked at hundreds of trending topics related to Europe from different Chinese platforms—from Kuaishou to Weibo—with a dataset of nearly 100 pages filled with hashtags that went viral over the past twelve months (October 2024–October 2025), to see what themes dominate discussions about Europe in China’s online sphere.

Excluding sports-related topics (which account for about 35–40% of all high-ranking posts about Europe; sports apparently are the best diplomacy tools, after all), the top 250 non-sports topics reveal a clear image of how Europe is perceived in Chinese digital discourse today.

A brief overview:

🔍 Main Focus: Russia–Ukraine war, Europe’s energy crisis, loss of autonomy, European geopolitical vulnerability and dependence on the United States

💡 Main Theme: Europe is often portrayed as lacking strategic autonomy and bearing the heavy costs of decisions driven by Washington’s agenda. It is viewed as vulnerable and “losing out” (吃亏), strategically outmaneuvered & excluded from major geopolitical decision-making.

🔍 Main Focus: ASML, tensions over electric vehicles (EVs) and protectionism, supply chains, trade deficits, and deindustrialization

💡 Main Theme: Europe’s trade frictions with China are portrayed as symptoms of Western decline and hypocrisy. The main story is that Europe’s economy is stagnating partly due to being overly protectionist and dependent on the US, while China emerges as a more dynamic and vital global player. Europe is losing competitiveness while China rises as a tech innovator.

🔍 Main Focus: Internal EU divisions, populism, leadership crises, and Europe’s political rightward shift (右倾)

💡 Main Theme: The EU is depicted as disunited and inefficient, struggling to respond to global challenges. The focus is on its inability to achieve strong, unified leadership amid political instability and ideological fragmentation.

🔍 Main Focus: Social instability, migration, public safety, and racial or cultural tension

💡 Main Theme: Europe is seen as unsafe, chaotic, and socially divided. This is often contrasted with China’s image of order and security.

🔍 Main Focus: Cultural comparisons, debates on values, and reflections on historical ties

💡 Main Theme: While Europe is respected for its rich cultural heritage and moral legacy, it is also mocked for its perceived sense of moral superiority. Europe stands for the past glory of civilization, not its future.

🔍 Main Focus: Chinese tourism in Europe, theft incidents, travel diaries, humorous cross-cultural comparisons, and the growing sentiment of being “suddenly disillusioned with Europe” (对欧洲祛魅了)

💡 Main Theme: Europe remains a popular travel destination, but the online tone has shifted from overwhelming admiration to a more pragmatic and critical perspective. The image of Europe is now more “de-romanticized,” with some even suggesting that “getting robbed is part of the experience” [of traveling in Europe] (I previously wrote about that here).

From Chips to Goals

So what does this all tell us?

Beyond the idea that Europe—caught between Washington and Moscow—lacks the agency to handle external crises while also struggling with internal division and decline, the dominant Chinese narrative about Europe is actually not about Europe at all.

‘Europe’ is all about China. Representations of Europe—from “democratic disillusion” to danger, disorder, and dependency—serve as both a mirror and a warning against which Chinese social, political, and national narratives are contrasted: chaos vs. order, fragmentation vs. unity, vulnerable dependency vs. strategic autonomy, decline vs. rise, etc. etc.

Something that the hashtags don’t tell us as much, but is still very much alive as well, is that Europe is also still seen as a major market of opportunities and a crucial soft power frontier for China.

Europe’s future, therefore (and for other reasons), matters to China—not as a model to follow, but as a stage for Chinese cultural and economic influence, where Chinese products, culture, and ideas can shape global appeal.

Perhaps that’s also what gives the Nexperia incident its extra weight: it ties together multiple narratives. Europe is seen as overly protectionist, biased against China, and driven by Washington’s agenda — and the fact that former Dutch Prime Minister Mark Rutte, now NATO Secretary-General, once called US President Trump “daddy” fits into that perception. As some Weibo commenters joked: “Did their daddy make them do it?”

In the end, the takeaway for many commenters is that the incident serves as another “wake-up call for China”: a stark reminder of the need for technological self-reliance. And so, the discussion unfolds in such a way that, once again, it becomes more about China than about Europe — about China’s international strategies, its global rise, and the lessons to be learned, with the Netherlands as the current antagonist.

Thankfully, there was something to celebrate as well: the Netherlands won 4-0 in the popular match against Finland. Amidst all the talk about trade and tech, one popular sports blogger on Weibo vividly wrote about how the Dutch attack was in full force, about how all-time top scorer Memphis Depay led the offense brilliantly, how he helped the team secure a victory, and how the Netherlands “took control of their own destiny in the race to top the group.”

Whatever the future holds for Nexperia and the geopolitical drama surrounding it, at least we can count on the unifying power of football — where, even if only for 90 minutes, chips sit on the bench and netizens far apart in politics cheer for each other’s countries.

I’m not even an avid football fan, but suddenly, the 2026 World Cup (still months away) can’t come soon enough.

By Manya Koetse

(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)

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