There's only one big male lead lately.
In a Douyin livestream on April 18th, Lei Jun, whose eyes are already wrinkled at the corners, no longer exudes the vigor of his youth. Instead, he gently clarified a series of labels and jokes about him online:
"I am not, I don't have, don't talk nonsense."
Nevertheless, Lei Jun still cannot stop the internet's deification campaign against him.
It's surprising, but now Lei Jun has a "super-ignited montage" on Douyin (TikTok), and if you didn't know, you might think he's a newly debuted male idol.
As a tech company, Xiaomi has never lacked for attention. Over these fourteen years, many have witnessed the fighting spirit of "Mi Fans."
With the launch of Xiaomi's SU7, the overwhelming traffic has all poured onto Lei Jun.
Today, his most famous persona is truly that of a boss, a cool protagonist, aka the "Beijing Cash King," a billionaire, walking in the footsteps of "Xiao Nai" (referring to the male lead in the romance novel "Love O2O," who is a top student, a computer science genius, the CEO of a tech company, and the top player in an online game).
Several screenshots are circulating wildly between marketing accounts and netizens, with an almost identical narrative chronicling Lei Jun's life:
His wife is his first love, he has lush hair, stands at 1.81 meters tall, and doesn't have a beer belly.
Scoring 700 out of 710 in the college entrance exam, earning his first million, and having his program from freshman year included in the teaching materials at Wuhan University during his sophomore year.
At 28, he became the CEO of Kingsoft, and at 40, he achieved financial freedom, yet still worries about his "cold" 4 billion in the bank.
In eight years, Xiaomi became the youngest Fortune Global 500 company, and a single car-making presentation made competitors lower their prices.
The most classic line of all: Lei Jun opens a cool novel, looks it over, and says with a smirk, "This isn't cool at all."
Before the release of the SU7, Lei Jun was just "the guy who made Xiaomi phones"; after the SU7 release, he became the king in the eyes of the youth.
Previously, Mi fans had been chanting "199,000" in terms of price, but Lei Jun repeatedly lowered user expectations, warning that the price might be "a bit expensive."
As a result, with a price of 215,900 yuan, coupled with a free upgrade to a high-value configuration worth 16,000 yuan for pre-orders before April 30th, when these two numbers were subtracted, the price indeed became 199,000.
With this move, Lei Jun once again ascended to godlike status, and even acquired the exclusive term "he quietly agreed."
Lei Jun, SU7, and their fans' enthusiasm knows no bounds.
A netizen shared a screenshot of a group chat on Douyin. Spotting a Xiaomi SU7 in the underground garage of their residential area, they immediately called out to the "big brother" in the owners' group, just to snap a precious photo with the SU7.
Another netizen, while checking out cars at the showroom, hopped into the driver's seat, had Xiao Ai play one of Lei Jun's famous songs "Are you OK," and turned the Xiaomi sales center into their own playground. Commenters warned them to stop fooling around, fearing Lei Jun might catch wind of it, saying, "You'll never get a test drive if he finds out."
The brilliance of their marketing lies in Xiaomi's absence from the scene, yet the party is already in full swing for netizens.
Once you might have only seen fervent Mi fans, but now, Lei Jun has his own following.
To them, Lei Jun is the "god of fashion."
The label bestowed upon him by netizens is "the dominant male lead without the vices of drink, sex, or wealth."
Standing at a height of 1.8 meters, well-managed physique, long slender legs, devoid of a beer belly, with an affable and ungreasy smile, Lei Jun smoothly transitions into the new generation's beloved, captivating people of all ages and genders.
Consider this, a middle-aged man born in '69, holding assets worth billions, yet still maintaining a fresh and non-paternalistic demeanor, earning the admiration of most netizens purely based on appearance. Of course, this favorability is also in comparison with other entrepreneurs.
Fans meticulously replicate Lei Jun's attire down to the nanometer, with his signature jacket even becoming a staple for "middle-aged men saving marriages."
Priced at 299 yuan, this Xiaomi utility jacket boasts a simple cut, understated colors, and the only embellishment being the Xiaomi logo on the chest—perfect attire for office workers grinding away.
Beyond just the jacket itself, donning the same style as the billionaire adds a touch of prestige even when toiling away for capitalists, straightening one's posture a few degrees.
What's sold for 299 yuan isn't just clothing; it's the aura of Lei Jun's attire: a black or navy utility jacket or suit, paired with a solid-colored T-shirt, a dignified pair of dark denim jeans, and on the feet, a sleek pair of black Salomons. This encapsulates the essence of dressing for the new era tech elite—keeping wealth discreet, living modestly.
In New York's Wall Street, Patagonia fleece vests are the Goldman Sachs uniform and the ultimate status symbol for the hardest-working individuals; while in Beijing's Zhongguancun, a limited edition Xiaomi work jacket, with only 800 pieces available, is the epitome of staying current and firmly following in the footsteps of the renowned entrepreneur Lei Jun.
Lei Jun, who is constantly online, stated that all 800 units of the old jacket have been sold out. He plans to launch an even cooler new version soon, possibly considering listing it on the Xiaomi Mall. It's safe to say that one of Lei Jun's most formidable skills is seamlessly capturing every wave of traffic in the era of short videos, hardly missing a beat.
Lei Jun is even revered as a deity of love and marriage.
Lei Jun is hailed as the "ideal husband material for Chinese men of the new generation." Learning from Lei Jun's style dominates the blind date scene.
Diverging from the ostentatious and extravagant style of finance professionals in Guomao, Lei Jun's composed and understated fashion sense illuminates the wardrobes of countless programmers in Zhongguancun and Zhangjiang High-Tech Park. It's a practical sense of sophistication, radiating the reliability and steadfastness unique to programmers and engineers.
Perhaps you've already guessed it, the internet has once again witnessed a surge of people who "want to marry Lei Jun."
Some see in him the grounded and hardworking "husband material," others taste the "youthfulness" of a man who has weathered many storms, and some even find themselves captivated by his dimples and infectious smile.
There are those who once had a "secret crush on Putin" and now have "shifted their affection to Lei Jun."
One can only say that apart from Xiaomi's hottest product, the SU7, Lei Jun himself is equally captivating.
After falling in love with his appearance, netizens have begun dissecting Lei Jun's resume, portraying him as a god of inspiration.
He is truly the epitome of "someone else's child," the ultimate idol for millions of small-town achievers across China. We share similar backgrounds, yet we can barely reach his heels in our entire lives.
This is a story Lei Jun once recounted at a press conference, now chewed up by marketing accounts:
A boy from an ordinary family in Xiantao, Hubei, who scored high enough in the college entrance examination to attend Tsinghua University but chose Wuhan University instead. He completed four years' worth of credits in just two years of college and had his code written in his freshman year included in the textbooks by his sophomore year.
At 28, Lei Jun became the CEO of Kingsoft. Perhaps a decade ago, this wouldn't have seemed remarkable, but when this generation reached 28 themselves, they realized how terrifying that achievement was.
At 40, Kingsoft went public, Lei Jun became financially independent, yet he almost fell into depression because his dream was to establish a "great company." So, in 2010, Xiaomi was born.
The year Lei Jun bought Xiaomi Technology Park in Qinghe, he posted a Weibo saying, "Nine years of drifting in Beijing, bought 348,000 square meters." Just one sentence struck a chord with many young people.
Such excellence coupled with unaware humility makes one's teeth itch with admiration.
When Lei Jun personally bent down to open the door for the first batch of SU7 owners, he elevated himself to a height unreachable by others — embodying the top-tier survival philosophy of the wealthy under traditional Chinese values: rich yet courteous, rich yet benevolent.
Netizens couldn't help but marvel at the fact that spending tens of thousands to have the Beijing cash king, Fortune 500 chairman, and billionaire open their car door and gift them a Xiaomi SU7 was money incredibly well spent.
When an entrepreneur goes to such lengths, you could say he's a master of marketing, or you could say his marketing weapon is simply sincerity.
Lei Jun's personal demonstration of opening the door set the tone for the attitudes of other major auto industry executives. Wang Chuanfu, president of BYD, also appeared at the delivery scene, presenting keys and flowers to the owners. The result? Netizens commented, "I still prefer your previous unruly demeanor."
Even Li Jiaqi, who was recently embroiled in the "eyebrow pencil controversy," was dragged out by netizens for another round of criticism: A billionaire with billions in assets bowing to the audience and saying "easy on the criticism," while scolding me for not working hard enough for a $79 eyebrow pencil.
The reason Xiaomi is worshipped like a deity owes much to Lei Jun himself.
Lei Jun and Xiaomi are practically going all out to demonstrate what truly embodies the "mass line" to their competitors.
There's a famous saying from Liu Qiangdong, "Don't compare marketing with Lei Jun." According to New Rank statistics, Lei Jun's Douyin account gained 4.05 million followers in the past 30 days with 60 posts. Besides personally engaging in high-intensity screen time, Lei Jun also brought the "Xiaomi Team" collectively onto Douyin, forming a formidable force.
Netizens not only jest about Lei Jun, but they also spare no one among his executives.
Dubbed as the "re-employment center for former CEOs," Xiaomi, now led by former Gionee CEO Lu Weibing, faces playful antics from netizens whenever Lu Weibing appears on Douyin, flooding the comments with phrases like "anti-Xiaomi, pro-Gionee," and "Lu, seriously, are you content with always being overshadowed by Chairman Lei?"
Wang Teng, president in charge of Redmi phones, hasn't escaped the memes either. Netizens often incite Wang Teng to take over Lei Jun's position, saying, "I believe my son Wang Teng has the aura of a great emperor," depicting a heartwarming scene of reversing the celestial mandate.
Some netizens even shout in live broadcasts, demanding Lei Jun bring in Jin Fan (vice president of Xiaomi's phone division, responsible for MIUI) who had been harshly criticized for system bugs for a long time. Just as long as he appears, he'll be an instant hit.
Lei Jun's "clean record" sets him apart as particularly upright among a crowd of entrepreneurs.
The more people learn, the fewer truly self-made entrepreneurs they find.
Netizens scrutinized Lei Jun and found that he really is a college-educated rural youth who, through his own diligence, rose to become the boss of a Fortune 500 company. Even after becoming a boss, he still maintains humility and gentleness, which elevates Lei Jun's stature—
He stands in stark contrast to the stereotypical wealthy and heartless, even acquiring a sense of duty to help the less fortunate.
Some even analyze Lei Jun from the perspective of physiognomy, noting his prominent cheekbones and phoenix eyes, traits that would have been rare even in ancient times, marking him as an exceptional figure.
Setting aside jokes and banter, more passersby are genuinely falling in love with Lei Jun.
Summarizing this fervor in a sentence: Technology is no longer aloof but serving the people.
Lei Jun is like a catfish stirring up various industries, with just a slight move, he can disrupt and beat down consumerism and brand premium across different sectors.
The SU7's sunscreen function has been warmly welcomed by female car owners, with Lei Jun discussing the product design process during live broadcasts.
In the initial design phase, Lei Jun insisted that every feature in the car should consider female needs. During the early research process, a female executive with a Tesla reflected on the issue of sun protection while driving in the summer. Therefore, the direction in the car manufacturing process was clear: first, it must look good; second, it should resemble a B+ model, easy for women to control; third, prioritize sun protection; fourth, ensure ample storage space, with the car capable of accommodating four umbrellas.
What's also commendable is that the product design team includes female product managers, designers, and engineers. Women are fully involved throughout.
Many netizens sigh that the demands of female car owners have always existed, but car manufacturers have simply been dismissive of making changes.
The most widely circulated story is about the power strip by Xiaomi.
Before Xiaomi entered the scene, power strips were both ugly and expensive. So Lei Jun announced that he would spend 20 million RMB to create an artistic power strip, and the price would be more affordable. This move directly caught Bull by surprise, prompting them to quickly align their design with Xiaomi's pure white minimalist style and lower their prices.
It's not that they couldn't do it; they were just too lazy to change.
In addition to revolutionizing power strips, Xiaomi also introduced the "Super Writer" neutral pen, capable of writing 170,000 characters. A pack of 10 pens costs only 9.9 RMB, enough to last for years. After seeing this, even the boss of Morning Light would have trouble sleeping.
Many netizens have testified that when their elderly relatives buy appliances, as long as they hear they're buying Xiaomi, they feel reassured. They can't necessarily say it's the best, but at least they won't be ripped off.
Quietly improving, even if you're not a fan of Xiaomi, you probably have a few Xiaomi products in your life. From weighing scales, night lights, hairdryers, and fans, to air purifiers, refrigerators, air conditioners, and TVs. You might have forgotten why you bought these products in the first place, maybe because they were cheap, or perhaps because you trust the Xiaomi brand.
Today, Xiaomi's variety store offers most of the things you need in your life. This is the result of Xiaomi's slow cultivation of its "ecosystem" over the years in the Internet of Things arena.
Recalling Xiaomi's first press conference, that golden numeral 1999 descending accompanied by rustic sound effects from above meant one thing: this was a company that wouldn't swindle its customers.
Back in the 2010s, smartphones were a luxury item. The market was dominated by giants like Apple and Samsung on one side and rampant domestic knock-offs on the other. As a high schooler at the time, I hesitated to even mention smartphones to my parents—back then, the price of a high-end branded phone was almost astronomical compared to the salary of an average worker.
In this setting, Lei Jun appears with the 1999 Xiaomi phone. In a sense, he brought an end to the era of knockoff phones, making smartphones affordable for everyone.
Enter the king of cost-effectiveness, the Redmi, priced at a jaw-dropping 799.
Some might scoff, who would dare to use such a cheap phone? But if you pay attention, you'll see left-behind children, street cleaners, budget-conscious seniors, students, and young people who can't afford expensive devices.
Fast forward to today, Xiaomi stores make it possible for most young Chinese to afford a full set of smart home devices, mirroring the Redmi scene.
Lei Jun and Xiaomi have indeed delivered on their initial promise.
"To make the best phone globally, at only half the price, making it affordable for everyone."
Now, Lei Jun, dubbed the "Wish Pool Turtle," is being urged by netizens to make sanitary pads.
In the live stream on April 18th, the internet-surfing enthusiast, Lei Jun, embarked on a spree of self-debunking—
He wasn't the top scorer in the college entrance examination, nor did he have a cool 4 billion yuan in his bank account. He wasn't the leading male protagonist in any web novels, and as for whether his wealth reached billions, he hadn't bothered to count.
During his first product launch, he wasn't trying to mimic Steve Jobs; he just happened to be wearing a black T-shirt and jeans from Vancl. The SU7 launch wasn't a mimicry of Musk either; there are only so many colors for suits. Despite Lei Jun becoming more reserved, he hasn't forgotten to crack a joke: "If you want me to mimic, I can cosplay even better."
"I really hope that today, my online friends can help me debunk some rumors. First, I wasn't the top scorer in the college entrance exam, I never scored 700 points. Even during my lowest points in life, I didn't have 4 billion yuan sitting coldly in my bank account. Like many of you, I was born in the countryside and relied on hard work and the opportunities of this era to get to where I am today."
"Just take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh. None of these are true, so please help me debunk them. When they said I became the leading male protagonist in web novels, I felt really uncomfortable all over. I really hope my Mi fans, and recently some friends told me they are Lei fans, can help me debunk this. I don't know how to express it, I just hope you can understand my feelings. There are so many rumors and hearsays online, and you can never debunk them all."
Just after the broadcast ended, Lei Jun's lips were almost worn out, but netizens were still chanting, "I'm not listening, I'm not listening, a turtle reading scriptures," tweaking Lei Jun's debunking into a new version: "There's not a cold 4 billion in the bank, it's a warm 4 billion; he's not the leading male protagonist, because the novels aren't exciting enough."
The marketing accounts rushed in to deify him, recounting Lei Jun's golden past and his divine investment layout as an angel investor, praising this cash king of Beijing for his Midas touch.
If someone only feels excitement after reading his resume, that might be too hasty a judgment.
Xiaomi is a brand adept at storytelling, a story Lei Jun has told countless times. This story isn't just exciting; by the end, you'll only find a few words reflecting the quintessential Chinese ethos: diligence, hard work, and exam prowess.
A young man at Wuhan University stumbled upon a book called "Fire in the Valley" in the library and couldn't calm down for a long time. He circled the playground many times, and from that moment on, he had a dream: "I want to start a great company."
Back in the university computer room, where each person was only allowed two hours, he practiced typing by peeling off a keyboard and sticking it on the desk to practice typing in the air.
There's a famous meme about Lei Jun: "Write code like poetry." It highlights his enduring programmer roots.
Code he wrote in his freshman year made it into the textbook "Pascal Language Programming" by his sophomore year. His paper from junior year was published directly in a prestigious journal.
During his financially challenging student days at Wuhan University, Lei Jun was supported by scholarships. It was then that he vowed: "When I have the ability, I will repay tenfold, hundredfold, thousandfold." In 2023, he personally donated 1.3 billion yuan to his alma mater.
In his sophomore year, Lei Jun ventured into entrepreneurship and struck gold with the commercial software BITLOK. Upon graduation, he caught the eye of "the elder statesman of Chinese programmers of the first generation," Qiu Bojun, who invited him to join Kingsoft, making him its 6th employee.
However, the joy was short-lived as Kingsoft soon faced the iceberg of Microsoft. Suffocating between giants and rampant piracy, Kingsoft struggled to breathe. Lei Jun then took the lead in creating "Kingsoft Antivirus," slashing the price of antivirus software from over 200 to 99 yuan, or even lower.
Despite taking Kingsoft public, Lei Jun wasn't content as its market value wasn't high at the time. He still hadn't realized his initial ideals.
In 2007, after resigning from Kingsoft, he began angel investing. He invested in Vancl, UC Browser, YY Voice, and even backed He Xiaopeng at the time. These investments brought Lei Jun returns of tenfold or even a hundredfold.
At the age of 40, Lei Jun, who had been a prominent figure in Zhongguancun for a long time and had achieved financial freedom through investments, was not content. He wanted to start a business, to make smartphones.
To recruit programmers, Lei Jun roamed around with a black backpack, visiting "thirty huts" everywhere. This endeavor brought together Lin Bin, Google's global engineering director, Kingsoft's former colleagues Li Wanqiang, Microsoft's Huang Jiangji, Motorola's Zhou Guangping, and Liu De, the head of the Beijing University of Technology's Department of Science and Technology.
In April 2010, in the office of Zhongguancun Yin Valley Building in Beijing, over bowls of millet porridge, Xiaomi was born.
Next, the story of "born for enthusiasts" is one we're all familiar with.
During the MIUI days, Lei Jun advertised on major Android forums, seeking enthusiasts to "cloud develop" MIUI together. When the first version of MIUI was released in August 2010, the designers wrote the names of these 100 users on the boot screen with a line that read, "Thank you, brave God."
In 2011, to secure Sharp's screen supply chain, Lei Jun, Lin Bin, and Liu De risked the Fukushima nuclear leak and flew to Japan, meeting with Sharp's President, Takahiro Hachigo, through the introduction of Mitsui & Co., Ltd. Their sincerity impressed the giant.
Upon going public in 2018, Lei Jun proposed the astonishing notion: Xiaomi's hardware comprehensive net profit margin will never exceed 5%, with any excess returned to users.
Such stories abound in Xiaomi's 14-year journey. Lei Jun sums it up in his own words: "Excellent companies make profits, great companies win hearts." People often say there are many critics of Xiaomi, but few of Lei Jun.
In Zhongguancun, there have always been legends about Lei Jun. In various versions, "that man" is never the protagonist of a wish-fulfillment story.
Referred to as "the one who understands Lei's ways the most," Zhou Hongyi once said Lei Jun started his career in Zhongguancun, influenced by the first generation of entrepreneurs like Liu Chuanzhi, not only pursuing success in business but also striving to be a role model in personal conduct.
Southern Weekend commented that Lei Jun's generation carries a kind of destiny. They have been following a set life plan since childhood: from being a good child to a good student, from a good student to a good employee, and from a good employee to a good leader.
Some former employees of Kingsoft described Lei Jun as "consistently surprising in sticking to the norms." He is "cautious and prudent, lacking a bit of adventurous spirit," adept at dealing and cooperating with people, but not skilled in expanding territories.
He sleeps only four to five hours a day, attends over twenty meetings a day, and calls executives whenever he has an idea, like a machine that never stops, driven by ambition, diligence, unwillingness to accept failure, and even a touch of compulsiveness, like many industrialists and entrepreneurs.
In the world of Bilibili and the internet dominated by young people, Lei Jun exists in another image.
In the comments section of Lei Jun's TikTok, netizens make all sorts of jokes about him. Some quip, "Mr. Lei, with such huge video traffic, why not consider putting a small advertisement for 'Da Woturn' in the middle?"
An entrepreneur who can be meme'd like this is because he has long been deeply associated with memes, and he even welcomes young people making fun of him.
Years ago, a "Are you OK" meme made Lei Jun a well-known singer on Bilibili. Over the years, his classic quotes from press conferences such as "rival companies are idiots," "overthrow Huawei," "awesome," and "we won't meet the expectations of Mi fans" have been meticulously archived by attentive netizens.
Interestingly, the first job of Bilibili's chairman, Chen Rui, was as an assistant to Lei Jun at Kingsoft.
Now, it seems that Lei Jun is being shaped into a third kind of image.
Behind the fervor for Lei Jun lies a simple social demand.
First, there is the call for "social fairness," and second, the belief that "effort still matters."
He has become the "capitalist under blue skies" in the eyes of the people, turning into "the last possible hero for the common class to transcend to become a hero for all," and morphing into the "myth of the last poor boy to rise to prominence." After all, only someone who has climbed up from the grassroots of society can understand that "technology is for the people."
People yearn for him to straighten out all industries, even calling for him to enter the real estate market, selling homes for 1999 yuan per square meter, so that young people can afford their first homes in Xiaomi Homes. They call for him to establish Xiaomi University, ensuring education for all and job opportunities for graduates. Some even urge him to build a Xiaomi nursing home, complete with a Xiaomi cafeteria, so that everyone has a place to live and food to eat.
On the surface, it's a collective anticipation of what Lei Jun might do; underneath, it's the anxiety and pain we all face together.
This deification of entrepreneurs is also the best illustration of the "personality economics" of the age of influence.
In a market crowded with capital, people are too eager for a benevolent entrepreneur to save them from fire and water, so they latch onto this straw. Whether Lei Jun can deliver isn't the point; what matters is that he brings a glimmer of hope for change.
Seventeen years ago, Lei Jun, a tech geek, saw the tiny words "Designed by Apple in California, assembled in China" on the back of an iPhone and had an idea that would change the Chinese smartphone market. Seventeen years later, surrounded by heroism, nationalism, and the desire for strength, a contemporary Iron Man is born.
In social psychology, there's a principle called the familiarity principle, which states that the more often a person appears in front of us, the more likely we are to develop preferences and affection for them.
When a person's persona is straightforward and rough, it's more effective and easier for the masses to believe in and spread. In the constantly buzzing information stream, Lei Jun unintentionally but effectively becomes a deity.
However, conversely, the moment a person becomes a deity is also the most dangerous moment for them.
Lei Jun isn't the first person to be deified, nor will he be the last. But historical experience tells us that whenever a figure receives the reverence of thousands and basks in the halo of divine light, shadows will simultaneously descend upon them.
