Overpriced Firewall Sparks Nationwide Outcry, Exposing Deep Flaws in China’s Public Procurement System

In early May, the university issued a tender for a “firewall and DNS device” that was slated to cost 750,000 yuan (approximately $105,000). The winning bidder, Fengdu County Hongzheng Commercial Co., Ltd., was awarded the contract on May 9. The next day, the Chongqing Government Procurement Network announced that the bid had been terminated. What made the episode extraordinary was a simple online search: the very same TP‑Link model, the TL‑R473G, were being sold on e‑commerce platforms for less than 300 yuan (about $40). The discrepancy—more than 2,000 times the market price—sparked an outcry that spread from Weibo threads to national news bulletins within hours.

Public reaction was visceral. Users on Weibo expressed disbelief that a piece of networking equipment that any consumer could purchase for a few hundred yuan could be billed at the price of a compact car. The tone of the commentary ranged from incredulous humour—memes comparing the “luxury firewall” to a gold‑plated kitchen appliance—to sharp criticism of what many perceived as a systemic lack of accountability. “A fine of 9,000 yuan for a company that tried to make a profit of over 740,000 yuan is an encouragement, not a punishment,” one poster wrote, echoing a broader sentiment that the penalties imposed were merely symbolic.

The backlash forced officials to move quickly. On September 6, a joint investigation team—comprising the Chongqing Municipal Finance Bureau, the Chongqing Municipal Education Commission, and the municipal procurement centre—released an official notification detailing the full course of the incident. The document laid out a damning chain of negligence that implicated not only the supplier but also several university officials, procurement staff, and the two technical evaluators who had been appointed to assess the bid.

Hongzheng Commercial, established in June 2015, turned out to have an almost invisible corporate footprint. The firm had never paid social security contributions or taxes, and it had been listed in the “abnormal operation directory” for failing to file annual reports from July 2019 through January 2025. It had never previously won any public contract. Yet, through a “commitment system” that allowed companies to self‑declare basic qualifications, Hongzheng slipped past the initial screening. The investigation found that the company’s “Commitment Letter for Basic Qualifications” was fabricated, and its bid documents merely copied technical specifications from the university’s competitive negotiation file without any professional verification.

Equally troubling were the shortcomings on the university side. The procurement was overseen by a deputy vice‑president, Wang Mou‑wei, who has now been placed under disciplinary review, and a procurement representative, Hu Mou‑hua. The university’s Logistics Support Office and the Network Information Section were singled out for dereliction of duty, with investigators concluding that the staff involved “mechanically executed procedures” and failed to conduct basic due‑diligence. The party committee at Chongqing Sanxia University was ordered to carry out a “profound self‑examination” and to audit all ongoing procurement projects.

The municipal procurement centre, which acted as the purchasing agent, was also held accountable. A staff member was placed under investigation, and the executive deputy director received an official admonition for allowing the process to become a “paper exercise” rather than a rigorous evaluation. Perhaps the most striking revelation was that the two experts—identified only as Wei and Pan Chun—who were supposed to vet the technical suitability of the equipment performed no substantive checks. They merely asked whether the product met the specifications, without confirming the model, price, or performance. Both were dismissed and barred from future government procurement evaluations.

In terms of penalties, Hongzheng Commercial was fined 9,000 yuan—equivalent to 10 % of the contract amount and the maximum statutory fine for this type of violation. The company was also placed on an adverse behavior list and banned from participating in any public procurement for three years. While the fine may seem modest compared with the alleged over‑pricing, officials stressed that the punitive measures were in line with existing regulations, prompting critics to call for stricter penalties in future cases.

The fallout of the incident extends well beyond a single university. Industry observers warn that the episode may erode confidence among legitimate vendors who have long complained that opaque qualification systems and rushed evaluations give an advantage to firms willing to exploit loopholes. “When a company with no prior record can walk away with a contract for a product that costs a fraction of the quoted price, it sends a chilling signal to honest businesses,” said Liu Yan, a procurement analyst at the Chinese Institute of Public Administration. The case is likely to catalyse a review of the “commitment system” that currently permits self‑declaration of qualifications without prior verification—a practice that the joint investigation team identified as a root cause of the malfunction.

From a societal perspective, the episode underscores how quickly public trust can evaporate when taxpayer money appears to be misused. Many Chinese netizens, who earn modest wages, expressed a sense of personal betrayal at the sight of a public university—an institution traditionally viewed as a bastion of public service—spending an amount comparable to a small apartment on a router. The episode has revived broader debates about the need for civic oversight, real‑time transparency in procurement platforms, and stronger whistle‑blower protections.

Politically, the scandal is a headache for local officials and, by extension, for the central anti‑corruption campaign. The rapid mobilisation of a joint investigation team reflects the authorities’ awareness of the political cost of inaction. Should the inquiry reveal deeper collusion or illicit benefit transfers—something currently unsubstantiated but strongly suspected by observers—the ramifications could lead to higher‑level disciplinary actions and possibly reforms to the legal framework governing public procurement. Some commentators have already suggested that the incident could be used by the central government to demonstrate renewed resolve on clean governance, perhaps prompting new guidelines that tighten qualification reviews and impose heftier fines for over‑pricing.

Despite the official report’s claim that no “interest transfer” (i.e., bribery or kick‑backs) was found between the university and Hongzheng Commercial, many on the internet remain skeptical. The phrase has become a meme in itself, with users sarcastically noting that even without a direct cash hand‑over, the system permitted a profit margin that effectively subsidised the supplier at public expense. This sentiment reflects a growing awareness among citizens that corruption can take many forms, not all of which involve clear money trails.

In the weeks since the September notification, the university has begun a comprehensive self‑audit of its procurement portfolio, and the municipal finance bureau has announced plans to tighten oversight of the commitment qualification process. Whether these steps will translate into lasting change remains to be seen, but the episode has already injected a rare dose of public scrutiny into a realm that is usually shielded from the spotlight.

The Chongqing Sanxia University case serves as a cautionary tale about the perils of inadequate vetting, over‑reliance on self‑certified qualifications, and the dangers of treating procurement as a bureaucratic formality rather than a public‑interest safeguard. It illustrates how a single overpriced router can ignite a broader conversation about governance, transparency, and the responsibility of public institutions to steward taxpayer money prudently. As the investigation winds down, the hope among many observers is that the lessons learned will reinforce the mechanisms meant to prevent such absurdities from recurring, restoring a measure of faith in the integrity of China’s public‑sector procurement system.