The Good Chinese Billionaire
If there was a septre in Mount Olympus for China’s ultra-rich, the Chinese public had already snatched it from Jack Ma and bequeathed it on Lei Jun, founder of Xiaomi, the electronics maker.
While the Financial Times was still fanfaring Jack Ma with a headline article “How Jack Ma’s Pivot to AI Rehabilitated Alibaba” published on Monday, the Chinese public was busy urging Lei Jun to cut his teeth into the women’s sanitary business, an industry he probably knew nothing about. After China’s annual 3.15 Consumer Rights Gala exposed“toxic sanitary pads”-pads failing to meet hygiene standards-thousands of Chinese netizens turned to Lei Jun on social media, requesting that Xiaomi produce safe sanitary pads at an affordable price, a knack Lei is known for in the electronics business.
Constantly engaging with his 44 million followers on Douyin and 26 million on Weibo, Lei Jun seems unusually approachable for a member of the 1 percent. “Whenever something seems difficult to achieve, or when any product or service loses people’s trust, people come to my comment section to leave messages. I’ve become a kind of wishing well,”Lei Jun said.
Xiaomi is the world’s second-largest smartphone manufacturer, trailing only Samsung. As Reuters noted last year: “China’s Xiaomi may have started out as an Apple wannabe, but it has now pulled ahead of the American technology titan.”
Indeed, Xiaomi was once known as the “Apple of China” , earning its founder Lei Jun the nickname “Lei Jobs (China’s Steve Jobs)” on Chinese social media. But Xiaomi’s ambitions went beyond the company it once aspired to be. Last year, Xiaomi launched its first electric vehicle, the SU7, with deliveries surpassing 100,000 units in 2024. In January this year, Lei Jun proudly announced on Weibo, “Last month, SU7 deliveries surpassed those of the Tesla Model 3.”
In Xiaomi’s “strongest-ever annual report” , which Lei Jun shared on Weibo just yesterday, the company reported a total revenue of ¥365.9 billion in 2024 with a 35% year-on-year increase, and adjusted net profit of ¥27.2 billion, up 41.3% year-on-year. Its innovative businesses, including smart electric vehicles, generated ¥32.8 billion in revenue. The newly launched Xiaomi SU7 Ultra, which hit the market in February, has already achieved its annual sales target of 10,000 units ahead of schedule. Under this robust growth, Xiaomi’s stock price quadrupled over the past year.
Consumer acknowledgment is also reflected in Xiaomi’s stock price and the attitudes of the Chinese government. In February, Lei Jun briefly became the richest person in China driven by Xiaomi’s soaring stock price. He was also invited to attend the symposium organized by President Xi Jinping in February and was one of the most high-profile business representatives at the recently concluded Two Sessions.
But here’s the million-dollar question: why isn’t Lei just another billionaire?
Lei’s rise in popularity certainly provides an interesting case study in the realm of China’s national psyche, offering a sneak peek into when social elites win public support in China and why—the complexity of which often evades analysts outside of China.
As Fudan University philosophy professor Bai Tongdong suggests, in China,the legitimacy of elites do not rest solely on their intelligence or efficiency but also on their contributions to the greater good of society. In Confucian political philosophy, a true “junzi” (gentleman) must not only possess talent but also demonstrate care and compassion for the broader population.
A counterexample would be the case of billionaire Li Ka-shing, who sold Panama Canal ports to an investor group backed by BlackRock following Trump’s pressure on China. Public opinion of Li hit an all-time low with the word “selfish” floating around in the public discourse. Shares of Li conglomerate CK Hutchison plunged by as much as 4.4%, wiping out over HK$7.8 billion in market value after the sale news broke.
To dismiss the public’s criticism of Li as merely overflowing nationalism, populism, leftism, or anti-rich mentality would be to miss out on the broader societal shift—an emerging vision, shaped by both the public and the government, that the new Chinese economy must be more inclusive and driven by technological innovation. To the Chinese public, Lei Jun and his Xiaomi happen to check both boxes, not to mention Lei’s “investing in yourself” slogan which echoes the tune of self-reliance sung in the age of Sino-US rivalry. Back in 2019, when Xiaomi’s stock price plummeted to as low as HK$8.28 per share, Lei had enough of confidence to convince the board to repurchase shares worth HK$3.6 billion.
As China turns its back on an era of rapid, albeit unruly, economic growth to embrace one driven by innovation and inclusivity, wealth alone no longer guarantees recognition, either from the general public or the government. Those who benefit from the overall institutional arrangement must now undergo deeper, more spontaneous “moral scrutiny” from the public.
Gone is the fanaticism surrounding Jack Ma, Li Ka-shing and their heedless flamboyancy. Gone is China’s Gilded Age, with its glamour, unchecked capital and laissez-faire approach.
Editor: huyueyue
