Li Guoqing Refuses to Fade Into the Background

Once a high-profile entrepreneur, now a full-fledged internet personality.

After a highly publicized divorce and remarriage that seemingly closed the chapter on Dangdang and years of corporate disputes, Li Guoqing did not fade from public view.

On the contrary, he has appeared more frequently, with richer storylines and greater visibility, remaining firmly at the center of public discourse.

A Wedding That Refused to Be Ordinary

In June last year, many of Li Guoqing’s friends received wedding invitations. The message inside read like poetry, reflecting on missed journeys, reunion later in life, and a renewed belief in love—his own way of describing his relationship with his new wife, Zhang Danhong.

Two months later, on an outdoor lawn at Beijing’s Ziyunxuan Hotel, Li stood in a black suit as friends such as Yu Minhong, Charles Zhang, Hung Huang, and Yu Dan applauded from the audience.

Celebrity weddings are hardly rare in Beijing. Yet Li still managed to draw attention in his own way. His invitation explicitly declined cash gifts and presents, instead encouraging each guest to donate 500 yuan at the venue to Tianzige Primary School, a rural school in Guizhou established by the Tianzige public-welfare initiative, where Li serves as a board member.

By the end of the ceremony, the school had received 111 donations totaling 113,670 yuan.

After leaving Dangdang behind—along with the headline-grabbing disputes over company seals and control—Li Guoqing did not retreat into a quiet, contemplative life. Instead, his name continued to surface regularly, like a fish breaking the surface of a summer pond.

He simply could not stay away.

From Business Commentator to Center-Stage Participant

Li updates his social media accounts diligently. One day he is introducing wine or tea, carefully brewing a pot to show the deep ruby color of aged raw pu’er. On another, he is offering blunt commentary on the latest figures and controversies in China’s business world.

He has spoken on the Wahaha inheritance dispute, suggesting Zong Qinghou was driven by deeply rooted views on lineage. He has shared mutual respect with Liu Qiangdong over business judgment and strategic thinking. He has even “prescribed” solutions for Moutai, arguing that overseas markets may be the only viable path forward as domestic distributors face mounting pressure.

Many people are willing to listen. After all, commentary from someone who once stood at the core of the business elite carries more weight than distant speculation from outsiders.

Calling himself “Old Li,” he knows how to keep an audience engaged. A natural communicator and seasoned negotiator from his Dangdang days, he once personally handled many of the company’s toughest partnership talks. A former senior employee recalled that Li approached difficult situations with an easy camaraderie—clapping shoulders, calling people brothers, and resolving problems swiftly.

With no shortage of business drama in China, Li’s videos are never short of fresh topics. He has become faster at riding each new wave of attention—and increasingly immersed in the process.

Recently, he has gone a step further, injecting himself directly into unfolding events rather than commenting from the sidelines.

From Commentary to Action

In January, Xibei founder Jia Guolong announced plans to close 102 stores nationwide—around 30% of the brand’s total footprint. The day after Jia confirmed the news, Li Guoqing released a video with a clear message: “Don’t close them.”

Li proposed leading an investment effort to reorganize the stores into a new company under the Xibei brand, provided he was granted full management authority. He also publicly called on Hu & Hu, Luo Yonghao, and others to join the effort.

No public responses followed. But that quickly became irrelevant, as Li soon found himself at the center of an even more resonant story—Yanran.

On January 14, actor Li Yapeng revealed that the Beijing Yanran Angel Children’s Hospital, a nonprofit institution, was facing shutdown due to unpaid rent. The story sparked widespread concern.

At the height of public attention, Li Guoqing stepped forward, announcing a personal donation of one million yuan and sharing a bank transfer screenshot. Praise poured in, along with thousands of private messages seeking help—many from families unable to afford medical treatment for critically ill children.

Ten days later, Li made another decision. He pledged 50 million yuan of his own money to establish a foundation, with plans to raise an additional 450 million yuan to form a five-billion-yuan fund dedicated to covering major medical expenses for children from low-income families.

He also committed to devoting half his time to public welfare work, adding plainly that he would draw no salary and was not afraid of criticism.

The announcement became his most-viewed video to date, earning tens of thousands of likes. One comment stood out: “I didn’t like Old Li at first—thought he was just noisy. But now I see he’s genuinely a good person.”

Reinventing Influence

Li Guoqing is fully aware that he dislikes being invisible—and that he can be “noisy.” Since stepping away from operational control of Dangdang, his entrepreneurial efforts have never stopped.

In 2019, he launched the Wandiant Reading Club, blending audiobooks with paid knowledge content. In 2020, he entered the livestream e-commerce boom, selling reading cards and alcohol. A year later, he founded Xiangdangdang, focused on “interest-driven e-commerce.” Along the way, he published a book and offered management consulting to companies that still trusted his judgment.

None of these ventures fully met expectations. Without Dangdang, his business influence waned. Livestream sales on Taobao and Douyin fell far short of ambitious targets.

That decline made one thing clear: to return to center stage, he needed a new approach. The attention economy of mobile internet, after all, is open to everyone—if one can successfully turn a name into a compelling personal brand.

Divorce scandals once damaged his image, even making him a figure of ridicule. But reflections on Dangdang’s missed strategic opportunities and his eventual loss of control reshaped him into something else: a tragic hero of the e-commerce era.

Recent, carefully chosen public interventions—especially those tied to social responsibility—have further transformed his persona.

Calling on Jia Guolong to save Xibei stores showcased not only loyalty and capital strength, but also earned praise for potentially protecting thousands of jobs. Donating to Yanran and launching a major medical aid foundation pushed his reputation to new heights.

A New Chapter at Sixty

“We in our sixties aren’t planning to retire,” Li once told China Entrepreneur. “We still want to do things—not fishing or golfing, but creating and striving. I might still be working at eighty.”

Behind his recent high-profile charitable actions, a new business plan has already taken shape. In December, Li announced that at sixty, he was returning to the front lines of e-commerce with a new company, Lixiang Life.

The concept is a premium online membership store focused on quality living—selling authentic products, from Maotai-town baijiu to Yixing teapots, with strict pricing controls and a modest markup. The first-year goal: serve 5,000 high-quality members.

Corporate records show that Lixiang Life was registered earlier, with Li holding near-total beneficial ownership. From all indications, he is aiming for a small, refined private-domain e-commerce model, targeting middle-aged and older men—a group where his influence is strongest.

Trust is essential for such a model. And over the past two months, Li has undeniably accumulated trust capital.

It would be simplistic to directly link his public-spirited actions to his new business ambitions. But it would be equally misguided to view each headline about him in isolation.

In a 2023 interview, Li said he had learned to reconcile with himself—to stop lashing out, to stop being impatient. Judging by his recent demeanor, he does seem more relaxed and genuinely happier.

A smiling “Old Li,” after all, feels like the right face for Lixiang Life.