Actress Zhao Lusi Alleges Assault by Former Agency Boss, Sparking Outcry Over Power Abuse in China’s Entertainment Industry
Zhao Lusi, a rising star known for her sunny on‑screen persona, has become the focus of a heated online debate after she recounted a harrowing episode in which she was allegedly assaulted by the former boss of her management agency, Yinhe Kuyi (银河酷娱). The details she has shared, the ensuing public reaction and the murky legal backdrop have turned a personal grievance into a flashpoint for broader concerns about power dynamics in China’s entertainment industry.
14 August 2025
The story first surfaced in early January 2025 when a video and a series of photographs showing Zhao in a wheelchair being pushed to a hospital went viral on Chinese social media. The images, posted by fans and quickly amplified by the platform’s trending algorithms, prompted her studio to issue a brief statement confirming that the actress had suspended all upcoming projects while she recovered. The post also alluded to rumors that Zhao was suffering from “speech loss” – a condition that can arise from brain injury and affect communication.
Zhao’s own account, delivered in a livestream on 2 January, painted a more vivid picture. She said that the assault began back in April 2019, after a failed audition for a new drama. According to her, the company’s then‑head, Li Wei (李炜), locked her in a small room for two hours, berated her, and later escalated the confrontation into physical violence – pulling her hair, slapping her, and striking her repeatedly. A friend who posted a detailed, midnight‑hour (2 a.m.) narrative corroborated the timeline, noting that Zhao’s parents arrived shortly after, underscoring the family’s concern for her wellbeing.
The chronology that fans have pieced together from scattered reports adds further layers. In March 2019 Zhao wrapped filming on the series “Three Thousand Crows Kill” (《三千鸦杀》). The following month, she allegedly endured the two‑hour confinement. By the end of 2019 and early 2020, rumors of broader bullying by the agency began to circulate, with accusations that Li Wei demanded a “huge termination fee” in exchange for Zhao’s release from her contract. In December 2024, while on set, Zhao reportedly experienced breathing difficulties and required supplemental oxygen; some observers linked this to a depressive episode that manifested physically. A fan support group published a timeline of these health concerns, accusing Yinhe Kuyi of failing to provide proper medical care.
The public’s response has been split. Many users expressed shock and sympathy, pointing to the stark contrast between Zhao’s cheerful public image and the alleged brutality she endured. The claim that a parent possessed phone recordings of the incident has been cited as a potential piece of corroborating evidence, lending credence to the narrative for some observers. On the other hand, a sizable contingent of netizens has voiced skepticism, highlighting perceived inconsistencies in Zhao’s story. Critics note that she initially downplayed the severity of the episode before later describing more explicit physical aggression, and they question why no legal action has been pursued despite the alleged existence of recordings. The fact that the dispute with her former agency remains unresolved, with repeated public statements but no official investigation, fuels further doubt.
Li Wei, for his part, has denied the assault while insisting that he still cares about Zhao. No police reports or court filings have been made public, and there is no indication that any government body has launched an inquiry. The studio’s statements have focused exclusively on Zhao’s health and the suspension of her work, offering no details about any criminal or civil proceedings related to the alleged beating.
Beyond the personal drama, the episode has ignited a broader conversation about the structural vulnerabilities of Chinese performers. Industry insiders point to a pattern of “agency overreach,” where contractual clauses can leave artists financially shackled and psychologically vulnerable. The alleged demand for a massive termination fee, the purported neglect of medical care, and the alleged physical intimidation all exemplify the “power imbalance” that many fear is endemic in the entertainment sector. At the same time, a growing segment of the public is wary of what they perceive as “attention‑seeking” tactics, warning that repeated self‑exposures without concrete proof may erode the credibility of genuine victims.
As the story continues to unfold, the key unanswered questions remain: Will an official investigation be launched? Does Zhao possess the recordings her supporters claim exist, and will they be submitted to authorities? And, more fundamentally, will this high‑profile case prompt any substantive reforms in the way agencies manage and protect their talent?
For now, Zhao Lusi’s ordeal sits in a liminal space between personal testimony and public spectacle, a reminder that the line between celebrity and ordinary citizen can blur dramatically when issues of safety, mental health, and legal accountability intersect. The outcome—whether it leads to legal redress, industry introspection, or further speculation—will likely shape how future disputes in China’s glittering yet fraught entertainment world are perceived and resolved.