A controversy that has been brewing recently has completely taken over the Chinese internet over the past week, becoming the biggest public scandal on Chinese social media in 2025 so far.

At the center of it all is Dr. Xiao Fei, a well-known thoracic surgeon at the prestigious China-Japan Friendship Hospital in Beijing who has come under fire in the medical world following revelations that he cheated on his wife with a head nurse, a trainee, and others.

This may sound like a Chinese version of an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, but it goes far beyond messy relationships alone and reveals serious social concerns and exposes deeper systemic problems involving academic and medical institutions.

To understand how this unfolded, I’ll walk you through the main people involved, the events that led up to it, and the key issues that turned this medical controversy into a nationwide talking point.

👨‍⚕️ Xiao Fei (肖飞): associate chief thoracic surgeon at the China-Japan Friendship Hospital (中日友好医院) in Beijing, with a PhD in surgery from Peking University’s medicine department. He had worked at the China-Japan Friendship Hospital since 2012, rising from resident doctor to associate chief surgeon, and was selected for the hospital’s “Elite Program” (菁英计划). He also served as a graduate advisor at Peking Union Medical College (北京协和医学院). A former Communist Party member, he was awarded the title of “Outstanding Communist Party Member” (优秀共产党员) at the hospital in 2020. Xiao is the central figure in the scandal involving multiple affairs and professional misconduct. Born in 1986 and a native of Shaanxi.

The main people involved: Gu Xiaoya (lower left) and Xiao Fei, and Shi Yuhui (top left) and Dong Xiying.

👩‍⚕️ Gu Xiaoya (谷潇雅): associate chief ophthalmologist at Beijing Hospital. Legal wife of Xiao Fei and mother to their daughter. She also holds a PhD in clinical medicine from Peking University. She is the “whistleblower” who exposed the scandal through a detailed letter and supporting material backing up her claims. Native Beijinger.

👩‍⚕️ Shi Yuhui (石玉慧): head nurse of the thoracic surgery department at China-Japan Friendship Hospital. She began an affair with Xiao Fei in early 2019—both were married at the time. During their relationship, she became pregnant twice and miscarried both times. Despite interventions of her own husband and Xiao’s wife, she maintained contact with Xiao and allegedly harassed Gu Xiaoya through 2024. Born in 1981.

👩‍⚕️ Dong Xiying (董袭莹): former urology resident at China-Japan Friendship Hospital. Studied economics at Barnard College in New York (graduated in 2019), then earned her medical doctorate through the “4+4” clinical medicine program at Peking Union Medical College (北京协和医学院). Currently serves as a resident physician at the Cancer Hospital of the Chinese Academy of Medical Sciences. She comes from a privileged background: her father is an executive at a state-owned enterprise; her mother is a vice president at the University of Science and Technology Beijing (北京科技大学). She began a relationship with Xiao in 2024 and is reportedly pregnant with his child, due in June.

This story first started to gain traction within various circles on Chinese social media since around April 21, when a long letter written by Gu Xiaoya (谷潇雅), the legal wife of the renowned surgeon Xiao Fei, was widely circulated, from WeChat to Weibo and Zhihu and beyond.

Soon, Chinese media outlets picked up the story, causing it to snowball and going trending on social media. The first time it trended on Weibo was on Sunday, April 27.

 
✉️ The letter that started it all
 

Gu’s letter, dated April 18, 2025, was addressed to the Disciplinary Committee at the China-Japan Friendship Hospital in Beijing. In the letter and attached materials, Gu Xiaoya details how her husband had been cheating on her since 2016 — including exact dates, locations, and chat records to support her claims.

First part of Gu’s letter

She writes that she wanted to report her husband’s extramarital affairs, as well as his apparent intent to have a child out of wedlock, because she believed his behavior “seriously violated social morality and professional ethics, and had a profoundly negative impact on both the hospital and the education of medical students.”

Gu explains that she first discovered Xiao Fei’s infidelity when she checked his phone in October 2019 and uncovered his secret affair with Shi Yuhui (石玉慧), a head nurse in his department, with whom he had been involved since at least February of that year. The two would also stay in hotel rooms together during trips, some work-related. According to Gu — and backed by hospital records — Shi became pregnant twice in 2019, both pregnancies ending in miscarriages.

Gu says that efforts to stop the affair were fruitless, even when Shi’s own husband was involved in trying to end the affair, and that Shi Yuhui continued to harass Gu for years afterward.

However, in June 2024, while on duty in the operating room, Xiao began another new affair — this time with Dong Xiying, a urology resident physician. Their relationship developed quickly. According to her medical training schedule, Dong was supposed to move on to another department in July 2024, but Xiao allegedly intervened to ensure she remained in thoracic surgery.

During this period, Gu claims that during a surgery on July 5, 2024, Xiao Fei had a dispute in the operating room involving his affair partner, Dong Xiying, and a nurse. As a result, Xiao left the operating room with Dong (allegedly to comfort her), even though a patient had already been anesthetized and was lying on the operating table. They were gone for 40 minutes, during which the anesthetist and nurse were left to manage the patient alone.

Gu mentions that medical staff involved in or aware of the operation later raised concerns in internal group chats or reported the incident directly to the hospital’s education or supervisory offices.

In a screenshot of the Surgical Anesthesia Department Nurses Group, one nurse said:

💬 “First thing in the morning, Xiao Fei was chaotic – he completely lost his temper on a phone call, tore off his surgical gown, and left the operating room. He called Zhang Ying (张颖) angrily saying if the circulating nurse wasn’t replaced, he would cancel the surgery. He then unfastened the scrubs of the trainee doctor Dong, and left with her. The surgery was left undone! They had just connected the electrosurgical unit when Xiao left with the trainee doctor, leaving the anesthetized patient lying in the OR. There is no doctor present during surgical time!”

In October 2024, Xiao filed for divorce. Gu later discovered that he was already living with Dong Xiying, who had become pregnant the previous month.

Gu also learned that Xiao had been involved in other affairs dating back to 2016, when Gu was pregnant with their daughter, and that he would stay at different hotels with various female members of staff and nurses.

She claims she initially hoped to avoid legal action, but Xiao’s threats to seek full custody of their daughter pushed her to expose his affairs and seek justice.

 
💥 Far-reaching consequences
 

On April 27 – the day this topic dropped in Weibo’s top trending lists – the China-Japan Friendship Hospital issued an official statement to respond to the controversy. The hospital confirmed that the allegations involving their staff member Dr. Xiao were basically true (#中日友好医院通报肖某问题属实#). They suspended Xiao while investigating the matter.

Soon, one statement after another, news reports and hashtags followed. Dr. Xiao was expelled from the Communist Party, his profile was removed from the hospital’s website, and his employment was terminated.

Around April 30, public attention began shifting toward Dong Xiying (董袭莹) and her academic credentials. The young physician, who graduated from Barnard College in New York with a degree in economics, entered the “4+4” MD/PhD medical training program at Peking Union Medical College (PUMC) in 2019. Within a few years, she was praised as a model student within the 4+4 track (non-medical undergraduate + 4 years medical training).

Netizens soon discovered that PUMC had been quietly removing articles from its website related to Dong. Her PhD thesis disappeared from public databases, and her name was edited out of the President’s Commencement Address. As more details about her privileged background surfaced, growing doubts emerged about her qualifications and how she gained admission to the program.

It is rumored that Dong has now left China for the US.

The hospital has not yet released details on how – and if – Shi Yuhui will be dealt with.

On May 1st, China’s National Health Commission announced an official investigation into the matter, looking into the allegations against Xiao and also reviewing the academic and work history of Dong Xiying.

The scandal has caused something of an earthquake — not just within medical circles, but also in academic ones, and across the internet at large, where netizens are particularly concerned about the broader social issues this story touches on.

Some netizens made mindmaps of the scandal to explain who the main persons nvolved are and what the key issues are. Shared by Qiao Kaiwan on Weibo.

There are many layers to this story, and perhaps more yet to be uncovered. One popular Weibo blogger (Qiao Kaiwan @乔凯文) commented about the scandal, and the role played by Dong Xiying:

💬 “(..) it’s rare for a central figure in a single case to touch on five major socially sensitive issues all at once: educational fairness (教育公平), doctor-patient trust (医患信任), marital fidelity (婚姻忠诚), class solidification [lack of upward mobility] (阶层固化), and academic corruption (学术腐败)…”

At its core, public concern centers around various major themes that are all tied to deeply rooted cultural values or long-standing social issues. Since there is some overlap within these topics, I’ll focus on three main values vs concerns here.

Fairness and corruption within China’s education system are recurring hot social topics. Education is widely regarded as the main path to upward mobility, which makes the system fiercely competitive—starting as early as kindergarten. The pressure to succeed in the gaokao college entrance exams begins years before the tests are actually taken.

Most Chinese parents are willing to invest heavily in their children’s education, driven by the fear that their kids will fall behind. This intense competition is reflected in the popularity of the term nèijuǎn (内卷), “involution,” which describes a situation where students (or professionals) must overwork and go above and beyond just to keep up with peers. Everyone ends up standing on their toes to keep pushing the bar—yet no one moves forward (read more about this here).

Especially in such a competitive system, where entire families invest so much time, energy, and resources into helping younger generations succeed, academic corruption is a sensitive issue that affects trust in the entire system and exacerbates common people’s disillusionment with meritocracy. Yet academic corruption—ranging from plagiarism and data manipulation to power abuse and favoritism—has been a widespread and increasingly discussed problem in mainland China since the 1990s.

Central to the current controversy surrounding Xiao Fei and Dong Xiying is the “4+4 program,” an experimental and relatively new medical education model inspired by the American system. Unlike China’s traditional path (five years of undergraduate study in medicine followed by three years of graduate training), this program allows students to complete four years of non-medical undergraduate education, followed by four years of medical training. It’s a fast track in which students can begin practicing medicine after just one year of residency instead of three. It was originally intended to create opportunities for talented individuals who decide to pursue medicine later on in their academic careers.

It sounds good in theory, but many feel that the program—with its high undergraduate standards and required letters of recommendation—essentially serves as a “backdoor” into medicine for the elite. Only a small number of applicants are admitted: the quota for both the 2025 and 2026 cohorts at PUCM is just 45 students.

Online, many are questioning whether Dong really met the proper standards for admission. How could someone with an economics degree from a liberal arts college become a so-called “medical talent” in just a few years? In contrast, people have pointed to Chen Ruyue (陈如月), a finance graduate from the prestigious Peking University who was also passionate about medicine and applied for the same program, but was rejected. Netizens wonder, “Where is the fairness in medical education?”

Many suspect Dong benefited from privileged access via family connections—her mother Mi Zhenli (米振莉) is a vice president at the University of Science and Technology Beijing (USTB), and her father Dong Xiaohui (董晓辉) is a senior executive at a state-owned enterprise.

Suspicions deepened when people discovered that Dong’s PhD supervisor, the orthopedic academician Qiu Guixing (邱贵兴), had no connection to her research field. Her clinical trajectory involves many different areas, from gynecological imaging and internal medicine to thoracic surgery and urology, a seemingly patchy path that raised further questions because this “magical and legendary swift crossovers between medical fields”of Dong could supposedly only mean that she is either an “unprecedented genius” or that her stardom medical rise was faciliated by “countless invisible hands” (comments by popular Weibo blogger @庚白星君).

There’s more that’s raised eyebrows.

Dong’s academic publishing history shows that she authored eleven research papers over a period of three years across various disciplines, from orthopedics to gynecology and urology. There are doubts over the exact role played by Dong in some of these studies. Dong was still a resident at the lowest level with relatively little experience, yet was able to publish bladder cancer diagnosis and treatment guidelines—she was listed as the first author on three English-language papers about bladder cancer clinical guidelines. Some allege that her contributions, like translating Chinese guidelines to English, do not merit a first-author mention.

There are also concerns about plagiarism. Claims have emerged that Dong’s 2023 doctoral thesis shows significant similarities to an invention patent submitted in 2022 by several professors and Zhao Jihuai (赵基淮), a hearing-impaired graduate student from the University of Science and Technology Beijing (USTB), who is mentored by Professor Ban Xiaojuan (班晓娟), Dong’s aunt.

It also does not help that PUMC, once promoting Dong as a success story, has now deleted related articles from its site and edited her name out of the President’s Commencement Address that mentioned her.

Concerns about Dong’s academic background and the apparent bending of rules inevitably also cast a shadow over the medical institutions where she trained. According to Gu’s letter, Dong was expected to rotate through various departments as part of her residency. However, instead of moving on to spinal surgery after completing her thoracic surgery rotation, she was allowed to remain—allegedly due to personal connections and pressure from Dr. Xiao—even though the hospital’s education team had initially objected.

If true, this could not only point to routine abuses of power within the medical training systems, but also creates unease over how qualified doctors such a Dong actually are, which also affects the trust patients place in hospitals.

The main incident in this scandal that has sparked widespread controversy is the moment when Dr. Xiao reportedly left the operating room together with Dong for an entire 40 minutes during a surgery, leaving the anesthetized patient on the table.

The idea that even a chief doctor such as Xiao can violate medical ethics by leaving a surgery mid-procedure for 40 minutes deepens fears about medical professionalism.

Trust between patients and doctors and worries over medical negligence are recurring topics on Chinese social media. There have been dozens of incidents that previously went viral showing how some doctors abuse or scam patients, or put commercial interests above the health of their patients. Some stories that gained nationwide attention in previous years include an anesthesiologist from Shandong who live-streamed while a patient was undergoing gynecological surgery, or a young patient who was asked to pay more money while already undergoing a surgery.

Such distrust in doctor-patient relations flared up again in light of this incident, in which a sedated patient was, against all protocol, left on the operating table mid-surgery—allegedly due only to a quarrel between another nurse and Xiao’s mistress that made him angry.

Xiao has given two media interviews in response to the allegations. Regarding the claim that he stormed out of the operating room with Dong, leaving a patient behind, he reportedly stated that he was not gone for 40 minutes, but for a maximum of 20 minutes to calm down after a dispute.

Although Xiao has admitted to inappropriate relationships with a head nurse and a training resident physician (refuting allegations of affairs with other nurses or members of staff), he firmly denied more serious allegations involving medical safety.

In an interview with Jiupai News, he said:

💬 “I have clear supporting evidence that around 9 AM, I left the operating table after an argument. I left to coordinate, not to ‘demand.’ I coordinated with a senior staff member in the operating room about whether it would be possible to replace the circulating nurse under these circumstances. Then I went upstairs to measure my blood pressure, drink some water, and take some blood-pressure medication. After calming down a bit, I immediately returned to the OR. I believe this was entirely reasonable. In fact, I was precisely concerned about the patient’s safety. Before I left, I gave specific instructions to the nurse at the table. Our anesthesiologist was present as well, and their professional competence is fully sufficient to ensure the safety of a patient who had not yet undergone any surgical procedure.”

Regardless of the circumstances, the fact that Xiao Fei left an anesthetized patient during surgery is not only one of the reasons that cost him his job—it’s also one of the reasons why he has temporarily become the most hated doctor in China among the public.

The fact that he tried to defend his actions only seemed to aggravate public opinion against him: “So he thinks 20 minutes is a short time to leave a surgery?” some say; “completely outrageous,” “a serious threat to patient safety.”

“Xiao is morally bankrupt,” another commenter wrote: “He is still trying to make excuses for leaving the OR mid-surgery. As chief surgeon he seriously violated his professional values. Not only doesn’t he reflect, he doesn’t even have remorse.”

In the end, this entire scandal started because Xiao was caught cheating with multiple women at his workplace. That alone is seen as a lack of moral integrity and a violation of professional ethics, which are also tied to corruption and power abuse.

In China’s corruption cases, extramarital affairs often serve as red flags — not every official with a mistress is corrupt, but most corrupt officials do have one.

One of the most high-profile public cases involving an extramarital affair was in 2023, when Chinese official Hu Jiyong (胡继勇), who held a high-ranking position at PetroChina, was caught walking hand in hand with his mistress by a TikTok photographer during a work trip to Chengdu.

Chinese state media wrote that “being a Communist Party of China member, Hu has moral obligations, which he transgressed by having an alleged extramarital affair.”

Hu Jiyong was dismissed from his positions as Executive Director, Party Committee Secretary, and General Manager. His mistress, coincidentally also a Miss Dong, also lost her job at the company. For Xiao Fei and Dong Xiying, the exposure of their illicit affair might have even more serious repercussions.

In the end, Gu’s letter had a major impact on everyone involved. Xiao’s actions not only carried serious consequences for Gu and their young daughter, but also ended his career, affected both Dong Xiying and Shi Yuhui and their families, and damaged the reputations of the China-Japan Friendship Hospital and PUMC.

The entire scandal is not really about Xiao or Dong anymore. It is about the entire system around them that facilitated their affair and made it possible to bend the rules and engage in unethical and unprofessional behavior.

On May 5, Chinese political commentator and columnist Sima Pingbang (@司马平邦), who has 7 million followers on Weibo, wrote: “What I think of the Xiao Fei and Dong Xiying incident: The academic authorities behind them must be brought down!”

Meanwhile, despite the serious concerns behind the scandal, plenty of people are also enjoying the online spectacle. Some performers are even incorporating the story of Xiao and Dong into their comedy shows. It’s not Grey’s Anatomy — it’s actually much more dramatic, and hasn’t even reached its final episode yet…

Best,
Manya

(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)

Thanks to Miranda Barnes and Ruixin Zhang for their input and contributions to this newsletter.

Spotted a mistake or want to add something? Please let us know in comments below or email us. First-time commenters, please be patient – we will have to manually approve your comment before it appears.

©2025 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.

Follow What’s on Weibo on

In April 2025, China’s food delivery sector witnessed a somewhat dramatic development, which attracted major attention online, when Chinese e-commerce giant JD.com publicly challenged food delivery leader Meituan.

On April 21, JD.com posted a noteworthy open letter titled “To All Fellow Food Delivery Rider Brothers” (各位外卖骑手兄弟们) on Weibo. In this letter, they accused Meituan (though not explicitly naming them) of monopolistic practices, after the company allegedly forced their delivery staff to stop accepting JD’s delivery orders. If riders chose to deliver for both companies anyway, they’d risk being blacklisted.

JD therefore accused Meituan of unethical behavior, neglecting their workers’ welfare, and pressuring part-time couriers to choose between platforms.

In their letter, JD vowed to support the freedom of Chinese delivery riders to accept orders from various platforms, and pledged to support those who were being blacklisted by offering them sufficient order volumes and full-time positions with benefits, including employment opportunities for their partners.

The bold move, dubbed the “421 Food Delivery Incident” by netizens, ignited widespread online debate.

 
“Underdog” JD vs. Meituan: The Start of a New Delivery War
 

JD.com is a household name in China’s e-commerce industry, best known for its electronics retail business. In recent years, it has expanded into fresh groceries, online supermarkets, and instant delivery services. Meanwhile, China’s food delivery market has long been dominated by Meituan (美团) and Ele.me (饿了么), the latter owned by Alibaba. Before a recent online controversy brought attention to it, many people weren’t even aware that JD had entered the food delivery space.

JD’s entry into China’s thriving food delivery market hasn’t been too long ago—the company officially only announced its JD Waimai (京东外卖) food delivery service back in February this year.

Before JD, other major tech companies like Tencent, Baidu, and ByteDance had all tried (and failed) to challenge the dominance of Meituan and Ele.me. But JD has a strong advantage: a massive logistics system with over 300,000 (!) delivery staff. Its Dada (达达) on-demand delivery and local logistics platform also has nearly 1.3 million active couriers, making JD a serious new competitor in China’s food delivery market. Not surprisingly, JD has already started hiring away talent from Meituan.

Amid JD’s growing presence, a post surfaced in April, reportedly from Meituan executive Wang Puzhong (王莆中), mocking JD’s food delivery ambitions as laughable. He used harsh language, calling JD a “cornered dog” making a desperate move (狗急跳墙). Then, on April 15, Meituan’s Flash Delivery service (美团闪送) released a video teasing JD’s supposedly slow delivery speeds (#美团闪购疑似嘲讽京东#). The video showed a dog with the caption: “Your Dongdong is still on the way” — a direct jab at JD, whose mascot is a dog and whose founder, Richard Liu (Liu Qiangdong), is nicknamed “Dongdong.”

JD swiftly hit back. On April 16, a video from an internal JD meeting was leaked, widely seen as a deliberate PR move. In the video, JD founder Richard Liu criticized the food delivery industry, claiming platforms were making excessive profits while restaurants struggled to survive. “Running a restaurant is already hard, yet platforms—just middlemen—are making a fortune,” he said. Liu added that JD would cap its profit margin at 5% and offer full social insurance to its full-time couriers—setting the tone for the official statement that followed.

Then came JD’s April 21 post, which launched a series of serious accusations against Meituan. JD claimed that Meituan had long restricted part-time couriers from working with other platforms and had failed to provide any social insurance to its full-time riders for over ten years. It also criticized Meituan’s working conditions, accusing the company of exploiting riders through algorithm-driven pressure while ignoring their safety. Additionally, JD accused Meituan of squeezing restaurants for profit, turning a blind eye to unhygienic “ghost kitchens,” and neglecting basic food safety standards. The tone of the post was sharply critical.

The attack prompted Meituan to respond publicly. That same evening, it issued a statement on its official WeChat account, denying that it had ever restricted riders from working with other platforms. Meituan also pushed back by accusing JD of mistreating its own couriers, pointing to heavy fines and unfair internal policies as the real issue.

However, Meituan’s response did little to improve its public image. On Weibo and short-video platforms, public sentiment largely turned against Meituan. That night, a netizen posted that JD CEO Richard Liu himself had delivered their JD order. Stories of Liu chatting with riders and restaurant owners quickly went viral, reinforcing his image as a down-to-earth, working-class hero—and earning JD another wave of goodwill.

At the moment, JD enjoys strong public support—not necessarily because it’s doing everything perfectly, but because it has timed its entry well, casting itself as the underdog taking on Meituan, the widely criticized corporate giant.

 
The Meituan Backlash
 

There’s no doubt that Meituan is a true giant. In 2024, the company generated a staggering RMB 300 billion (about $41 billion) in revenue. But this delivery empire has long faced ethical criticism—and JD’s recent accusations on Weibo highlight issues that many in the industry have raised before.

Meituan’s commission rates for restaurants are notoriously high, typically ranging from 15% to 25%. According to reports, around 60% of restaurants on the platform operate at a loss—even as Meituan continues to post multi-billion-yuan profits year after year. Many restaurant owners have voiced their frustration online, saying Meituan initially attracted them with generous onboarding incentives, only to gradually increase commissions, service fees, and so-called “tech support charges.” In the end, even strong sales often fail to translate into real profit. Yet with fierce competition and Meituan’s dominance in the food delivery market, many restaurants feel they have no choice but to stay.

For workers, complaints from Meituan couriers are nothing new. The faster they deliver, the more the algorithm shortens their future delivery windows, while slower deliveries result in fewer order assignments. This creates a vicious cycle, pressuring riders to break traffic rules just to meet deadlines. Unsurprisingly, their accident rate is reported to be three times higher than that of express couriers. To make matters worse, Meituan has historically provided no social insurance—neither for full-time nor part-time riders—leaving them on their own when accidents happen. As some couriers bitterly joke, “We’re not people—we’re just human batteries.”

For consumers, the concerns are just as serious. As I noted in an earlier article, Meituan’s platform increasingly hosts “ghost kitchens”—delivery-only outlets that often operate in unsanitary conditions, producing low-cost, low-quality meals to support Meituan’s Pinhaofan service and fuel ongoing price wars. It’s hard to believe Meituan isn’t aware of these practices; it simply appears to look the other way.

These examples are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Meituan’s ethical challenges. But for many users, they’re reason enough to delete the app—especially now that JD has positioned itself as a credible alternative.

Of course, few believe Richard Liu is driven purely by social responsibility—he’s long been skilled at presenting himself as a “man of the people.” In JD’s early days, he famously delivered electronics himself in a three-wheeler. Still, as many netizens have put it: “Judge by actions, not intentions” (君子论迹不论心). Whatever JD’s true motives, its current words and actions seem to align with the interests of ordinary consumers and workers. But the question remains: is that enough?

 
Different name, same game?
 

For many consumers, the showdown between JD and Meituan has been surprisingly entertaining, and even financially rewarding. The more intense the rivalry, the bigger the discounts. Netizens have been sharing screenshots of good deals they’ve scored from both platforms in recent days. Some media outlets have even declared, “Richard Liu is saving food delivery and changing the industry for good!”

Meanwhile, Taobao and Ele.me have also announced that they’ll be joining the big JD–Meituan showdown by making themselves more competitive. “Taobao Flash Delivery” (淘宝闪购) will now be prominently featured on the main Taobao app, and Taobao and Ele.me will be more closely integrated under Alibaba to offer customers faster delivery times and the best prices. That means more offers—and good news for consumers.

Taobao and Ele.me also join the big battle

But offline, couriers are responding more cautiously. Rider welfare has quickly become a key issue in this corporate battle—and may even become a way for platforms to stand out in a crowded market. But big promises aren’t enough. Only real, visible improvements will earn riders’ trust.

Courier A Ping (阿平) has long been sharing food delivery vlogs online. He used to work for both Meituan and Ele.me. Since April 16, he’s started posting about JD’s delivery platform, and has raised many concerns: part-time riders apparently find it hard to get orders, the system is difficult to navigate, the dispatch logic is flawed, and the navigation is poor.

In the comments section, other couriers are joining the discussion, with many agreeing that JD’s current system only works for full-time employees. “If full-timers get the full benefits, insurance and everything, then it;s probably not that easy to become one,” one wrote. “JD looks promising now, with high pay and benefits, but give it time—it’ll end up the same as the others.”

Another rider, Yu (小于) isn’t too excited about the JD-Meituan feud either. “JD’s fine system is super strict,” he said. “At the end of the day, all these platforms are the same.” Whether JD is just using this moment for PR or genuinely stepping up to take on more social responsibility—only time will tell.

By Ruixin Zhang

Follow @whatsonweibo

Independently covering digital China for over a decade. Like what we do? Support us and get the story behind the hashtag by subscribing:

Subscribe

edited for clarity by Manya Koetse

Spotted a mistake or want to add something? Please let us know in comments below or email us. First-time commenters, please be patient – we will have to manually approve your comment before it appears.

©2024 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.