The 2.43 Million Yuan Moutai Incident Involving a Former Vice Governor: Why Is the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection Ignoring It?

Image: A Chinese military canine and demolition unit conducting a security sweep at Tiananmen Square. (Photo by Kevin Frayer/Getty Images)

[People News] Recently, the story of 'the family of a retired vice governor losing 2.43 million yuan worth of Moutai liquor' has gone viral. Li, a housekeeper and driver employed by Chen Yanming, the former vice governor of Shandong Province, exploited his access to keys and security cards to repeatedly steal Moutai, Wuliangye, Guojiao liquor, red wine, and other premium beverages and items from April 2021 to October 2023, amassing illegal profits of approximately 2.435 million yuan.

The Huangdao District Court in Qingdao sentenced him to ten years and six months in prison for theft, along with a fine of 200,000 yuan; the Qingdao Intermediate Court upheld this sentence in the appeal. Family members have stated their intention to continue appealing. The case also uncovered numerous details regarding counterfeit liquor: the majority of the Moutai sent for inspection was determined to be fake, and Li had previously filled the gaps with counterfeit liquor purchased online.

Following the incident, Li continued to report to the disciplinary inspection and supervision authorities about his employer's family allegedly engaging in bribery, accepting bribes, and possessing a significant amount of property with an unknown source. However, the appellate court confirmed that 'the facts have not yet been verified' and did not recognize it as a meritorious act.

Chen Yanming retired from his role as the deputy director of the Provincial People's Congress Standing Committee around 2008, which means he has been out of office for over 17 years. His family members have largely remained silent in front of the media. The public's attention has quickly shifted from the question of 'Is the housekeeper's theft of liquor heavily punished?' to more profound issues: How does a family of a retired deputy provincial-level official manage to stockpile valuable liquor worth millions that can be continuously sold for two and a half years? Can the sources of these liquors withstand scrutiny? Why, despite media calls and public oversight, has there been no further action from the relevant departments after more than a year after the reporting clues were provided?

To put it simply, Chen Yanming is also a deputy ministerial-level official; why has the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection not conducted an investigation for so long? This individual case sheds light on the selective and politicized manipulation of the Communist Party's current anti-corruption mechanism.

When power is not subject to supervision, officials can become the worst offenders.

The British historian Lord Acton famously stated, 'Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.' This does not suggest that officials are inherently worse than ordinary people, but rather that systems and environments significantly shape human nature.

An ancient saying goes, 'Those who steal hooks are punished, while those who steal a country are made marquises.' The incident involving the deputy governor's family hoarding Maotai liquor exemplifies this saying. Li was convicted and received a heavy sentence, in line with the current criminal law's provisions regarding 'secret theft of particularly large amounts.' However, when the stolen items may involve the power rent-seeking of high-ranking Communist Party officials, political-business networks, or vast properties of unclear origin, the legal system's machinery suddenly comes to a halt—not because it is malfunctioning, but because it has been precisely identified and discreetly allowed to proceed.

This incident actually took place a year ago. Even someone who is illiterate could easily calculate the bill: can a vice governor's salary cover 2.43 million yuan worth of premium liquor? The real black accounts behind this issue remain trapped in the opaque procedures of public power, where clues are transferred but not yet verified. This situation is reminiscent of the games played in some high-profile social incidents, where hard drives fail and surveillance cameras malfunction.

While ordinary theft can be clearly accounted for in legal terms, property accounts related to power can remain unresolved for extended periods. The arbitrary nature of power within the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) system not only defines who holds power but also allows the execution of that power in public to be casually overlooked. It also determines which issues can be publicly scrutinized and which must remain confined to procedural boundaries.

The era of 'thief-led anti-corruption' is a thing of the past; anti-corruption has become the exclusive domain of the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection (CCDI), and outsiders are not permitted.

In the history of anti-corruption within the CCP, there have been brief instances where major cases were exposed due to 'informed individuals' such as thieves, lovers, and drivers. For instance, in 2011, Bai Peizhong (白培中), the former Party Secretary and Chairman of Shanxi Coking Coal Group, was robbed at home. When his wife reported the theft, she falsely claimed that 3 million yuan was stolen. However, after the police investigated, they discovered that the actual value of the stolen property was 10.78 million yuan. This case directly implicated Bai Peizhong in disciplinary violations, and he was later sentenced to 13 years and 6 months in prison for bribery and other offenses. This is one of the most notable examples of 'thief-led anti-corruption.'

Between 2011 and 2012, a theft gang led by Wang Shengli focused on stealing from the residences of officials. They targeted at least 54 county-level officials, including Zhao Xinghua, the Secretary of the Zhengyang County Committee in Zhumadian, Henan, and the Secretary of the Pingyu County Committee, amassing over 6 million yuan in cash and valuables. Many officials refrained from reporting the thefts due to fears of the large sums being of unknown origin, with some even attempting to alter police records. Ultimately, several officials were investigated by the Discipline Inspection Commission.

One particularly absurd case of corruption involving mistresses stands out. Yi Junqing, the former director of the Central Translation Bureau, was dismissed and investigated after his mistress, Chang Yan, publicly disclosed their relationship and details online. Shan Zengde, the former deputy director of the Shandong Provincial Department of Agriculture, was brought down after a 'divorce commitment letter' and videos of his relationship with his mistress circulated online, leading to a fifteen-year sentence for bribery.

In multiple cases at the provincial and ministerial levels, mistresses served not only as co-recipients of bribes but also as key evidence providers or whistleblowers. In early reports from the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection, improper relationships between men and women were frequently mentioned alongside power-for-sex transactions, making it common for mistresses to become pivotal points in investigations.

The common thread in these cases is that thieves or mistresses provided direct evidence or unusual property leads, prompting the disciplinary authorities to pursue investigations in the existing environment, ultimately resulting in actionable outcomes. While the thieves themselves rarely received formal 'anti-corruption credit' for reduced sentences (as they are often legally viewed as confessing to criminal acts), the downfall of the officials was undeniably significant.

However, this strongly ironic grassroots anti-corruption movement has been completely halted during the Xi Jinping era, not because it is ineffective or too costly to investigate; on the contrary, the efficiency of targeting thieves and lovers is remarkably high, and the economic costs are minimal. Yet, according to Xi Jinping's perspective, the political costs are too significant. He has privately criticized Chinese Communist Party (CCP) officials for either dying at the dining table or in bed. It is likely that anti-corruption efforts against thieves and lovers most starkly reflect the CCP's shamelessness and immorality, which puts Xi Jinping, who is deeply intertwined with the CCP, in a difficult position.

In the Xi Jinping era, anti-corruption has evolved into a highly specialized and politicized exclusive channel. Grassroots or case-derived clues are intentionally kept under wraps by Xi Jinping due to their authenticity, precision, and political immunity, making it challenging for them to be converted into formal investigations.

Li (Li Mou) accurately calculated the economic aspect; alcohol can be lucrative, but he misjudged the political implications. He pressed the wrong alarm and stole from the wrong era, rather than merely investing in the wrong company.

What often determines whether you become a target of anti-corruption is not whether you are 'greedy' or 'how much you have embezzled,' but whether you have entered the effective range of the power struggle.

The anti-corruption practices since the 18th National Congress of the CCP have completely diverged from public expectations. Chen Yanming, who has long been retired and holds a vice-provincial-level position, currently shows no public opposition to factions or significant political sensitivities. Even if his family's wine cellar issue raises public concerns, it may not necessarily be a current priority target for crackdown. The precision and timing of anti-corruption efforts are dictated by higher-level political considerations, rather than merely the scale of property irregularities and power rent-seeking.

In Xi Jinping's perspective, political disloyalty is far more alarming than the mere display of power. Political loyalty serves as the sole assurance that officials' black hats and their heads remain firmly in place. The anti-corruption campaign is Xi Jinping's proactive intervention and treatment for the political biases of officials within the Communist Party of China; it cannot simply compel you to submit willingly, nor can it intimidate or scare you into compliance.

Moutai liquor has emerged as a politically correct exception, becoming a sensitive symbol.

One cannot help but admire the politically correct nature of this vice governor's corrupt behavior, which has landed him on the special pardon list of the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection, reaching the intoxication threshold of Xi Ping. His corruption revolves around Moutai liquor, a favorite of the current highest authority, and indeed, it is Moutai.

Should a formal investigation be initiated against retired vice provincial-level officials hoarding large quantities of Moutai, it could be dramatically interpreted by outsiders as a painful jab at Xi Jinping from a distance, indirectly tarnishing and desecrating the leader's image, which is why they hesitate to investigate.

Reports suggest that Xi Jinping's health issues, including strokes, are closely linked to his drinking habits and lack of exercise. Xi enjoys drinking with Qin Gang, and it is likely that the Moutai and premium liquors in Xi's residence are worth well over several million yuan. Does investigating the vice governor imply that Xi Jinping should also be scrutinized? The Central Commission for Discipline Inspection lacks the courage to act recklessly.

The true crux of this case lies not merely in the crime and punishment of a thieving housekeeper, but in how the Communist Party system potentially delineates what warrants investigation and what does not, what constitutes a crime and what does not, and how it assigns a political price to power that instills fear and submission in ordinary people.

(First published in People News)△