Esther Yu’s Father Sues “Old Pan Caishang” for Defamation, Triggering a Nation‑wide Debate on Online Speech and Celebrity Reputation in China

According to the filing, Yu Pijie claims that Old Pan’s recent video series titled “Family Has a Mine” (家里有矿) contains false statements that have severely damaged his reputation and, by extension, that of his daughter. The videos—published on the short‑video platform Douyin under the handle HeroCulture—accused Yu Pijie’s company of “abnormal tax rates,” suggesting possible tax evasion or fabricated financial data, and went further to allege that he was involved in “official‑business collusion” and “loan‑sharking” activities. The most recent installment of the series was placed behind a 56‑renminbi (approximately $8) paywall, a fact that many observers interpreted as a profit‑driven motive for the inflammatory content.

Yu Pijie’s legal team argues that these claims are defamatory and have “seriously affected the work and daily life” of both father and daughter. They have asked the court to order Old Pan to cease publishing the alleged slander and to seek compensation for the damage done to the family’s reputation. The lawsuit is framed as a straightforward defamation case, but the surrounding circumstances have turned it into a flashpoint for broader conversations about the limits of online speech, the responsibilities of “we‑media” creators, and the scrutiny faced by celebrity families in China’s rapidly evolving digital landscape.

The reaction on Weibo was swift and largely critical of the legal action. A common refrain among users was that the suit seemed less about correcting the record and more about silencing dissent. One commenter wrote, “Why are all the claims framed as defamation? If you sue for this, it’s almost an admission that the statements weren’t a problem!” (为什么全是名誉权啊，你告这个不就相当于变相承认他们说的没问题吗). Another thread referenced the high‑profile defamation cases of former star Kris Wu (凡 noting that repeated victories in court do not necessarily shield a public figure from ongoing public scrutiny. The sentiment was that the lawsuit could be viewed as a “rights‑protection move to shut him up,” reflecting a broader mistrust of legal tactics used to quash criticism.

Yet the netizen response was not monolithic. A sizeable contingent expressed genuine support for Esther Yu, portraying her as a victim of relentless online attacks that had already placed her on the platform’s trending list for more than ten consecutive days. One user celebrated, “Yu Shuxin’s sky has finally cleared up! Before that, she was stuck on hot searches for over ten days,” underscoring how the digital storm had eclipsed her career achievements and drawn attention to the personal toll of the controversy.

The timeline of the dispute adds context to the heated debate. The allegations first surfaced late last year when Old Pan posted a series of videos alleging that Yu Pijie had unlawfully seized 1.5 billion yuan of state‑owned assets and that his firm’s tax burden was “abnormally low.” Those claims coincided with a resurgence of interest in Yu Shuxin’s earlier reality‑show appearances, which had already made her a familiar face among younger audiences. As the accusations gained traction, the Yu family’s social‑media following reportedly shrank, and rumors of financial misconduct began to ripple through fan circles.

In response, the family’s legal counsel at Taihetai Law Firm sent a formal notice to Old Pan demanding an immediate cessation of the defamatory content and outlining the intent to pursue litigation if the demands were not met. The firm also warned that the lawsuit would seek both injunctive relief and monetary damages, emphasizing that the family’s “legitimate rights must be protected.” Meanwhile, the Human Resources Department of Xinyu Iron and Steel Group Co., Ltd.—a state‑affiliated enterprise that had previously been linked to Yu Pijie’s business dealings—issued a brief statement indicating that it was “reviewing public feedback concerning the matter,” though no concrete outcome has been announced.

Beyond the immediate parties, the case has ignited a wider discussion about the responsibilities of digital content creators in China’s tightly regulated information environment. Old Pan, who operates as an independent financial blogger rather than a traditional news outlet, illustrates the growing influence of “we‑media” accounts that blend commentary with sensationalist claims. Legal experts note that defamation laws in China, while offering a tool for reputation protection, also raise questions about the balance between safeguarding personal dignity and preserving the public’s right to discuss matters of alleged financial impropriety—especially when the subjects are linked to state‑owned enterprises or public figures.

The fact that Old Pan placed his contentious video behind a paywall adds another layer of complexity. Critics argue that monetizing potentially libelous content incentivizes the spread of unverified allegations, while supporters claim that a fee serves as a filter to ensure only serious viewers engage with the material. The move has prompted calls for platforms like Douyin to tighten oversight of paid content that could be defamatory, echoing recent regulatory pushes to curb misinformation and protect consumer rights online.

For the entertainment industry, the lawsuit serves as a cautionary tale. As celebrities increasingly become brands in their own right, the actions of their family members—particularly in the realm of business—are subject to heightened scrutiny. Managers and public‑relations teams are now more vigilant about monitoring third‑party commentary, ready to deploy legal strategies at the earliest sign of reputational risk. The case also underscores how quickly a personal dispute can spiral into a PR crisis that threatens an artist’s marketability, especially in a market where fan loyalty can be fragile.

Public opinion, however, remains split. While some view the legal action as an overreach designed to “shut up” a critic, others see it as a necessary defense against reckless accusations that have already caused tangible damage, including a decline in the actress’s follower count and a surge of negative media coverage. The nuanced nature of the debate reflects a growing awareness among Chinese netizens that the line between legitimate investigative reporting and defamatory rumor is often blurred, particularly when the information is disseminated through non‑traditional channels.

As the case proceeds through the courts, its outcome will likely have ramifications that extend beyond the parties involved. A ruling in favor of Yu Pijie could embolden other public figures and their families to pursue similar defamation suits, potentially chilling online discourse about financial misdeeds. Conversely, a decision that favors Old Pan could signal that critics, even when operating outside the mainstream media, have a degree of protection when they can substantiate their claims. Either scenario will shape how digital influencers, regulators, and the public navigate the delicate interplay between speech, reputation, and accountability in China’s fast‑moving media ecosystem.

In the meantime, the Yu family continues to weather the storm, with Esther Yu’s recent public appearances signalling a tentative return to the spotlight. Whether the court’s eventual judgment will restore the family’s standing in the eyes of the public—or whether the controversy will linger as a reminder of the perils of digital fame—remains to be seen. What is clear, however, is that the phrase “Yu Shuxin’s father commissioned a lawsuit against Old Pan Caishang” has already entered the lexicon as a touchstone for debates about truth, power, and the evolving role of online commentary in modern Chinese society.