After a Nationwide Ban, Chen Zhen Breaks His Silence Overseas—Only to Run Headlong into CCTV’s Regulatory Crackdown

On December 7, Xiao Lei woke up to two pieces of striking news at once. The first was a CCTV exposé on the chaotic resurgence of disgraced internet influencers. The second was the sudden appearance of two new videos posted by Chen Zhen on Instagram.

In one of the videos, Chen Zhen said, “To be honest, I don’t know what will happen next. I’ll take this as a lesson. Maybe it’s a new beginning, and I hope everything goes smoothly from here.” The other video featured a Nissan model often nicknamed the “big sofa.” Both videos have since been deleted.

Frankly speaking, this move came far too fast.

Just days ago, after his main accounts were banned, he rushed to continue posting through a backup account. When that was also shut down, he immediately took his content overseas. It was as if he could not tolerate even a moment without traffic. To many observers, this looked less like persistence and more like openly challenging regulatory authority—an action that perfectly illustrates what it means to “commit violations against the wind.”

Chen Zhen is a well-known automotive influencer with more than 24 million followers across platforms. Even if his name doesn’t ring a bell, many people recognize his signature catchphrase, “Can you even handle this?”

On December 4, several of Chen Zhen’s domestic social media accounts were suspended for 28 days for violating relevant laws and regulations.

The very next day, CCTV News reported that between 2021 and 2023, Chen Zhen evaded 1.1867 million yuan in taxes through concealed income, false declarations, and the fabrication of work studios. Authorities later recovered a total of 2.4748 million yuan in back taxes, late fees, and fines, all of which have now been fully paid into the state treasury.

On the same day, both his main account “Chen Zhen” and his secondary account “Chen Zhen’s Classmate” were permanently banned across all platforms, and brand partners swiftly cut ties.

In Xiao Lei’s view, Chen Zhen’s hasty appearance on overseas platforms is less about personal defiance and more about a desperate race against the loss of traffic. Having grown used to constant attention and monetization, he seems unable to endure even brief silence. Long-time followers know that much of his content, aside from occasional vlogs, revolved around provoking controversy—calling people out, using sarcasm, and creating conflict.

A temporary ban, by itself, is not necessarily fatal. Laying low for a while often allows time for storms to pass. But tax evasion is a fundamentally different matter. Once the legal line is crossed, redemption becomes extremely difficult. Perhaps Chen Zhen understands that a comeback on the mainland is unlikely, which is why he attempted to harvest whatever value remained from overseas traffic while he could.

Even so, Xiao Lei believes that despite his bleak prospects on the public stage, Chen Zhen’s past resources and connections could have allowed him to transition into behind-the-scenes business roles. Instead, by choosing to speak out abroad at this sensitive moment, he has effectively sealed off his final path. From here on, he risks sinking deeper into the category of a “disgraced influencer.”

All this only highlights how the early internet environment once elevated many who never deserved such platforms. Knowing full well that tax evasion is illegal, he still committed the act—and years later, the consequences have finally come full circle.

Beyond Chen Zhen’s puzzling overseas move, CCTV’s broader investigation into the abnormal resurgence of disgraced influencers was even more eye-opening. One influencer who evaded 7 million yuan in taxes simply changed their name and profile picture and quickly attracted 230,000 new followers. A once-imprisoned “luxury queen” resumed livestreaming in high profile immediately after release. Even artists involved in drug scandals have attempted comebacks by hiding behind masks and claiming “rebirth.”

Some media commentators pointed out accurately that these repeated “revivals” are not driven by genuine popularity, but by traffic algorithms’ natural bias toward extreme and sensational content.

These disgraced influencers thrive on provocation, flaunting wealth, and stirring conflict. Young audiences are easily misled into believing that being outrageous is a shortcut to fame, while values, responsibility, and integrity become secondary. Over time, this poisons public discourse and cultivates a culture of vanity, aggression, and money worship.

CCTV’s stance on this issue is crystal clear: stop dreaming of easy comebacks.

These influencers dare to test the boundaries for two reasons. The first is luck—they believe changing identities will allow them to escape scrutiny. The second is greed—they are unwilling to give up profits, even if it means enduring public condemnation. But the internet is not above the law, and the public does not truly forget. Tax evasion and illegal acts cross legal red lines and undermine fairness. There is no justification for allowing offenders to continue earning money in front of the camera.

As for Chen Zhen, his repeated switches—from main accounts to backup accounts, and then to overseas platforms—may look agile on the surface, but they reveal a deeper foolishness. At the same time, they also expose gaps in platform oversight. If systemic loopholes were firmly sealed from the start, such figures would not have room to resurface at all.

In Xiao Lei’s view, fame can never cancel out wrongdoing. Only when the entire internet ecosystem adopts a firm “zero tolerance” attitude toward disgraced influencers can the industry truly return to a healthy path—one where creators who are genuinely talented, law-abiding, and positive in influence are able to stand out. That is the internet environment truly worth striving for.