China’s “Zero‑Additive” Soy Sauce Scandal Sparks Nationwide Consumer Backlash and Calls for Label Reform

The spark was a side‑by‑side comparison of Haitian soy sauce sold in Japan and the same brand sold in mainland China. The Japanese version proudly bore the label “zero‑additive,” suggesting a product free from preservatives, flavor enhancers and other synthetic inputs. The Chinese version, by contrast, listed a litany of additives, from monosodium glutamate to caramel colour. Social‑media users seized on the disparity, accusing the company of a “double standard” that privileged overseas consumers while domestic shoppers were left with a chemically‑laden staple. Hashtags such as “科技与狠活” – loosely translated as “technology and ruthless tactics” – trended for days, reflecting a growing distrust of processed foods and the corporations that market them.

The discussion soon broadened beyond Haitian. Qianhe, a brand that had built its identity around the promise of “zero‑additive” soy sauce since its 2008 launch, found itself under fire. The company’s flagship line, marketed under the trademark “千禾0” (Qianhe 0), was celebrated by health‑conscious consumers as a cleaner, more natural alternative to conventional sauces. Yet a deep dive by the media outlet Consumers’ Report revealed that twelve of the thirteen “zero‑additive” soy sauces it tested contained measurable levels of cadmium, a heavy metal, and seven contained detectable arsenic. Qianhe’s own 380‑day aged soy sauce registered cadmium at 0.0110 mg/kg – a figure that, while within China’s national safety limits, nevertheless rattled a public that had been led to believe the product was virtually free of contaminants.

The timing of the revelations was critical. In 2021 a report first alleged that several “zero‑additive” soy sauces – including those from Qianhe, Haitian’s rival Golden Dragon Fish (金龙鱼) and other major producers – contained heavy metals. Although the levels fell below the legal thresholds, the juxtaposition of the “zero‑additive” claim with any trace of toxic elements ignited a perception of deception. The issue resurfaced in 2024 and again in 2025, each wave of coverage reinforcing a narrative that the promises on the label were at odds with the realities of modern food production.

Key personalities have emerged as both catalysts and defenders. Influencer Xin Jifei (辛吉飞) posted a series of videos that amplified fears about food additives, portraying them as a hidden menace and warning viewers that low‑priced products were “guilty” by default. China Food News (中国食品报) later criticized Xin for spreading “partially false and misleading information,” highlighting the fine line between consumer advocacy and alarmism. Within Haitian, long‑time employee Cheng Xue (程雪), who joined the firm in 1992 and rose to senior management, and veteran executive Pang Kang (庞康), who has ste the company for more than two decades, have been tasked with managing the brand’s response amid the swirling backlash.

The public’s reaction can be summed up in three interlocking emotions. Anxiety and mistrust have surged as consumers grapple with the notion that a staple of everyday meals could be chemically engineered or contaminated, however insignificantly. Anger frustration have been directed at companies perceived to be exploiting health‑conscious trends while failing to live up to the implied purity of their branding. And an increasingly vocal demand for transparency has emerged, with netizens calling for clearer definitions of terms like “zero‑additive,” stricter labeling standards, and more robust regulatory oversight.

The market consequences have been swift. Qianhe’s stock price fell noticeably after the March 2025 consumer‑report findings, and the firm’s net profit growth – a robust 55 % jump in 2022 and further gains in 2023 – has been eclipsed by the reputational damage. Haitian, too, saw its brand equity erode as the “double‑standard” accusation lingered in the public imagination, despite the company’s later launch of its own “zero‑additive” line in an effort to regain consumer confidence.

Beyond the immediate financial impact, the incident has exposed structural weaknesses in China’s food‑labeling ecosystem. The term “zero‑additive” currently lacks a precise regulatory definition, allowing manufacturers to interpret it loosely – often meaning that no artificial preservatives are added, while still employing sugar, salt, yeast extracts or other ingredients that technically qualify as additives. The detection of cadmium and arsenic, even within legal limits, underscores the difficulty of guaranteeing a product is completely free of contaminants given the complexities of agricultural supply chains.

Industry analysts predict that the fallout will drive a reevaluation of marketing practices. Brands may shift away from ambiguous health claims toward more quantifiable information, such as “no added preservatives” or “low sodium,” backed by third‑party certifications. Supply‑chain scrutiny is likely to intensify, with companies investing in traceability technologies and independent testing to assure that raw materials meet stringent safety standards. Meanwhile, food‑science firms could accelerate research into natural preservation methods – from specific bacterial strains to novel fermentation techniques – to meet consumer demand for truly additive‑free products without compromising shelf life.

For consumers, the episode has prompted a nuanced view of “healthy” food. The simplistic equation of “zero‑additive” with wholesome is being replaced by a broader assessment of nutritional content, processing methods and overall ingredient quality. Social‑media commentary, epitomized by the slogan “你还在相信零添加吗” (“Do you still believe in zero additives?”), reflects a growing skepticism that will likely extend to other product categories that tout similar health‑oriented labels.

Regulators are now under pressure to clarify and enforce standards. The absence of a uniform definition for “zero‑additive” has been identified as a root cause of consumer confusion, and officials have hinted at forthcoming guidelines that would codify what the claim may entail across various food groups. Enhanced enforcement, including more frequent inspections and stricter penalties for misleading labeling, is being discussed as part of China’s broader “Healthy China” strategy, which seeks to align public health objectives with stronger food‑safety governance.

In sum, the “zero‑additive soy sauce incident” has evolved from a single social‑media post into a national conversation about trust, transparency and the responsibilities of both manufacturers and regulators in an era where consumers are increasingly savvy and demanding. While the heavy‑metal levels detected in the sauces did not breach statutory limits, the perception that they did has inflicted lasting damage on brand reputations and sparked a reevaluation of how food health claims are communicated. As Chinese consumers continue to scrutinize the labels on their kitchen staples, the incident may well serve as a catalyst for more rigorous standards, greater corporate accountability, and a more informed public that looks beyond buzzwords to the real chemistry of the foods they eat.