Chinese Star Zhang Weiyi’s “Second‑Child” Push Sparks Public Backlash and Fuels Debate on Gender, Family Norms, and Celebrity Pressures in China

Dong Xuan, widely known for her work in television dramas, entered into a low‑key second marriage with Zhang Weiyi earlier this year. The pair had publicly agreed before tying the knot to live a “DINK” lifestyle—dual income, no kids—despite Dong’s existing daughter, affectionately nicknamed “Xiao Jiu Wo” (Little Dimples). In the first months of their marriage Zhang seemed to respect the arrangement, even indicating that he would not press for a child.

That stance shifted dramatically on a July 18, 2025 episode of the reality show “Sister in Charge,” where Zhang openly expressed a desire to become a father again. He linked the idea to personal creativity, saying that fatherhood could provide new artistic inspiration. The comment was followed by a series of on‑air exchanges that many viewers found jarring. When asked what message he would send to his late father—who died giving birth—Zhang replied, “Dad, there’s a little Zhang now,” a line that was widely interpreted as tone‑deaf given his own family tragedy.

The situation was made more volatile by the appearance of Dong’s mother on the same programme. She voiced support for a second child, urging her daughter to “consider other people’s feelings” and urging the couple to go ahead with the plan. Critics seized on the mother’s remark as evidence of lingering patriarchal expectations, noting how it placed additional pressure on Dong, an older mother who had already navigated a previous marriage and the challenges of single parenthood.

Public reaction was swift and unforgiving. Commentators accused Zhang of reneging on his pre‑marital promise and of treating his wife as a “fertility tool.” Social media users highlighted the stark contrast between his earlier claim of being content without children and his later insistence that a new baby was essential for his personal growth. The nickname he used for Dong’s daughter—“Wōzi” (a diminutive that some felt was disrespectful)—was also cited as evidenceensitivity.

Compounding the backlash, screenshots of private chats that emerged in late August suggested that Dong had already undergone in‑vitro fertilisation (IVF) on July 29. This revelation undercut Zhang’s public claim that any future children should be conceived “naturally,” leading many to label his stance as hypocritical. The timing of the IVF, revealed only after Zhang’s comments about needing a child for creative reasons, intensified speculation that the couple’s private negotiations were far more fraught than the televised dialogue suggested.

The fallout extends beyond personal grievances. Observers note that the episode underscores shifting attitudes toward remarriage and blended families in China. Dong’s remarriage to a younger man and the prospect of integrating a second child into an already complex household have made the couple a focal point for discussions about what constitutes a “successful” modern family. While traditional expectations still valorise large, multigenerational households and male heirs, an increasing number of citizens are embracing diverse family configurations, including child‑free couples and step‑families.

Gender dynamics are also at the heart of the controversy. Zhang’s public frustration over Dong’s perceived reluctance and his justification of a second child as a creative catalyst clash with the traditional masculine ideal of stoic responsibility. At the same time, Dong’s image as a strong, independent professional navigating motherhood, a new marriage, and intense public scrutiny highlights the mounting pressures on women to balance career aspirations with familial duties—particularly when age and prior commitments are factored in.

The episode illustrates the powerful role of reality television in shaping celebrity narratives. The platform that initially offered Zhang and Dong unprecedented visibility also exposed them to unmediated public judgment. Brands and advertisers are now watching closely; while controversy can generate buzz, it also risks alienating consumers who view the behaviours as irresponsible or disrespectful. Some marketing firms have already reassessed potential endorsement deals with Zhang, weighing the short‑term publicity against the longer‑term reputational risks.

Zhang’s own response to the mounting criticism was to dismiss the impact of public opinion, stating that “letting everyone complain is also fine.” The comment, intended perhaps as a display of resilience, was interpreted by many as flippant, further widening the opinion gap. Media analysts point out that the episode serves as a case study in crisis management for public figures in an age where digital commentary spreads instantly and persists indefinitely.

In the final analysis, the “second‑child” controversy is more than a tabloid dispute. It reflects a society in transition—caught between entrenched expectations of procreation and a growing embrace of individual autonomy. It also spotlights the intense scrutiny that Chinese celebrities face in the age of social media, where private decisions become public debates. As the story continues to develop, it will likely remain a touchstone for discussions about family, gender and the evolving landscape of fame in modern China.