In recent years, whenever Chen Lihao goes out for trips within 10 kilometers, he almost always rides a bicycle.
On paper alone, the chairman of a listed company in Zhuhai has a net worth of over a billion yuan.
Despite owning sports cars, he insists on cycling. He provides free three meals a day for all 2,000-plus employees in his company, but doesn’t use air conditioning in his own office. He doesn’t smoke or drink, yet can casually donate one million yuan to support public welfare causes.
Some say he breaks the stereotype people have of the wealthy. On his bicycle, he looks just like an ordinary middle-aged man—slim and pedaling fast. The only thing that sets him apart is a bright red card hanging from his bike: “Zhuhai CPPCC Parking Permit.” He also holds other titles: member of the Central Committee of the Jiusan Society, and in 2010, he became a specially appointed member of the Guangdong Provincial CPPCC.
In Zhuhai, many locals can recognize that black bicycle and its owner on the street. Some even rush up to stop him and say, “Committee Member Chen, I have something—I need you to speak up for me!”
Chen Lihao is quite “famous” locally, not just because of his wealth, but more so because of his various “political stunts.” In 2005, he became a member of the Zhuhai CPPCC. After two consecutive years of proposing the development of non-motorized vehicle lanes without success, he came up with a new idea during the 2008 “Two Sessions.”
On the morning of the meeting, he hopped on his bicycle and cycled six kilometers to reach the “Zhuhai Grand Theater.”
Reporters were immediately drawn to this man dressed in formal attire, carrying a backpack and a folding bicycle.
“It was clear he came prepared,” recalled a local media reporter. Juggling interviews with three or four media outlets at once, he answered questions “like a machine gun,” talking extensively about the low-carbon economy and green travel.
“Don’t you even own a car?” a young girl asked. “I own three cars,” Chen replied with a smile. The next day, he successfully made the newspaper headlines.
This time, with the help of his bicycle, his proposal received a response: Zhuhai would restore bicycle lanes on newly built or renovated roads. One commentator said, “He directly brought the issue to the media and the public.”
Chen Lihao also wanted to promote his “low-carbon economy” ideas across the province and the nation—cycling alone wouldn’t be enough, so he turned to experts. He found a Chinese pinyin name in a Royal Society white paper, traced it to someone from the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, immediately called 114 to get the phone number, and managed to invite Pan Jiahua, director of the Research Center for Sustainable Development.
During the 2010 National “Two Sessions,” the Jiusan Society’s proposal “On Promoting Low-Carbon Development in China’s Economy and Society” was listed as the CPPCC’s “No. 1 Proposal.”
“I will resolutely exercise my rights,” Chen Lihao said. He doesn’t want the role of a CPPCC member to become an empty shell or shadow. In his view, when a group of people can sit together, hold a formal meeting, share feelings, offer suggestions, and collectively make their voices heard, it is very meaningful.
To make that voice heard, he “leaves no stone unturned.” During one of Zhuhai’s “Two Sessions,” to advocate for the lifting of the electric scooter ban, he lifted up an electric scooter in front of the city party secretary to demonstrate how lightweight and safe it was. To secure a five-minute speaking slot at the plenary session, he pestered the CPPCC chairperson for days. At the Guangdong Provincial “Two Sessions,” there’s a tradition of “grabbing the mic” to speak, and for two years in a row, Chen arrived over an hour early to secure the first spot—he planned his seat and texted the host to network.
For those few minutes of speaking time, he put in a lot of effort. According to Zhu An, the vice president of his company, whenever Chen traveled, he would take photos of how electric scooters operated on roads in other cities. He even broke his leg in Shanghai while taking photos.
He also once led fellow Jiusan Society members, dressed in suits, to distribute the booklet “100 Low-Carbon Tips” at the entrances of the Zhuhai Grand Theater and the Guangzhou Baiyun Grand Theater. This lifestyle guide, authored by him, was printed with eco-friendly ink on recycled paper, and distributed to representatives, committee members, and citizens at various “Two Sessions.” Previously, most CPPCC members who prepared extra materials mostly used them to promote their own businesses.
“If all CPPCC members were like me, the role of the CPPCC would be much greater,” Chen Lihao said proudly.
In the eyes of another Guangdong Provincial CPPCC member, Meng Hao, Chen Lihao “doesn’t just talk the talk”—his advocacy and actions are aligned.
Chen Lihao never uses straws when drinking beverages. At banquets, he refuses to get fresh bone plates. When someone smokes in the elevator, he firmly holds the door shut. Most of the time, the air conditioner in this boss’s office is purely decorative—only a hundred-yuan electric fan runs. In the hot southern climate, executives are reluctant to hold meetings in his office, so he patiently lectures on the environmental harm caused by central air conditioning.
Some CPPCC members thought it was novel that he rode a bicycle, so he bought 100 bikes and gave them out. But by the next year’s Zhuhai “Two Sessions,” he was the only one “arriving by bike.” Media called him a “solitary figure.”
He also made “CPPCC Conference Parking Permits” for his bicycles and hung them on the handlebars, believing “they mean more than the bicycles themselves.” At first, security at the Zhuhai Grand Theater wouldn’t let him park there, and he argued, “Why can cars park?”
Even the family’s maid scolded him: “Sir, you have money—you don’t need to ride a bike, why care about a little water and electricity?” He didn’t get angry, but went on about “Earth’s environmental resources…”
Like riding a bicycle, many of Chen Lihao’s actions are done single-handedly. His Weibo account has 150,000 followers, making him the biggest “V” in Zhuhai. Some say he must have a think tank behind him, which Chen neither confirmed nor denied.
He pulled out his Apple laptop from his bag and introduced it enthusiasti
When it comes to the internet, Chen Lihao is not just a taker but also a giver.
Through Weibo, he donated one million yuan to Xiaoyiyi, the young girl who survived the Yong-Wen high-speed train accident, and established the “Yiyi Children’s Care Foundation.” Upon seeing online that Liao Dan had privately forged an official seal in order to pay for his wife’s dialysis treatments, he immediately contributed 170,000 yuan to help Liao Dan repay the full amount of the embezzled funds.
To this day, Xiaoyiyi’s uncle still often calls him to update him on the little girl’s condition. “She can walk now, but she’s not quite running yet,” Chen Lihao said, gesturing animatedly and looking visibly moved. When talking about Liao Dan’s story, his eyes welled up with tears and he couldn’t continue, so he quickly stiffened his neck and changed the subject.
“The boss is a man of deep feeling,” Zhu An said. During the Wenchuan earthquake, in the epicenter of Yingxiu, one young employee lost contact with the company. For an entire week, Chen Lihao spent most of his time online, searching for clues, sending emails, and asking around at every local hospital through connections, but ultimately failed to find the employee. “We must treat his family the same way we did when he was here,” Chen Lihao said, a statement that Zhu An still remembers vividly.
Chen Lihao doesn’t smoke or drink. When he has no choice but to play golf for social obligations, he always quits after just a few swings and retreats to the lobby, hugging his laptop to go online. Whenever someone brings up “those things about Zhuhai’s rich circle,” he’s always at a loss. Topics like buying property, cars, or going to clubs are completely off his radar.
“He influences others in a unique way,” one of his friends said.
Some say Chen Lihao is putting on a show, but he doesn’t deny it. “Putting on a show depends on your motives. I’m not seeking personal gain, so I have no qualms about it.”
“Fundamentally, people should be alone,” Chen Lihao said, pedaling his bicycle along the road, swaying gently as he moved forward.
“True capable people are those who can help more people,” said Hu Haiting, a teacher at Zhuhai College of Jilin University. Two years ago, Chen Lihao funded a social survey project with 1 million yuan, using an online platform to collect citizens’ suggestions for Zhuhai’s development.
Chen Lihao then printed the collected “public opinions” into a booklet titled *A Collection of Golden Ideas* and distributed it to members of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC). Last year, around 80–90% of the motions and proposals submitted to the Zhuhai Municipal People’s Congress and CPPCC overlapped with the ideas in this booklet.
This year, when the Jiusan Society was preparing proposals for the National Two Sessions, Chen Lihao introduced a new topic: “The Management System for Public Officials’ Lists and Supporting Measures.”
He was aiming at “official property verification.” The issue is serious and tricky—shouting over a microphone wouldn’t help him, nor would riding a bicycle. He had to fly to Beijing repeatedly to discuss the matter with officials, scholars, and media professionals.
The idea for this proposal stemmed from his identity as a senior executive of a listed company. “The state monitors stock transactions of me and my family very strictly and effectively. I think it could serve as a reference.”
His idea is to connect banks, securities, real estate, and other departments to implement “list management” for the properties of public officials and their registered family members, submitting encrypted lists regularly. If any abnormalities are detected, the system will automatically trigger an alert, which is directly sent to the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection (CCDI). “It’s like installing surveillance cameras at key intersections,” Chen Lihao explained, adding that this approach avoids privacy exposure while reducing human interference. He repeatedly emphasized that “this measure can alleviate the pressure of property disclosure.”
Chen Lihao’s proposal was included in the Jiusan Society’s list of speeches for the National Two Sessions. “Wang Qishan also heard it,” Chen Lihao said. During the joint group meeting of the National Two Sessions, Wang Qishan, a member of the Standing Committee of the Political Bureau of the CPC Central Committee and Secretary of the CCDI, listened to the speech and instructed that the proposal be further studied and refined.
Jiang Ming’an, director of the Center for Constitutional and Administrative Law Studies at Peking University, commented: “Among all the proposals on the anti-corruption system I’ve seen, none are more comprehensive than this one. In terms of effectiveness, if the previous measures were 10%, this one is 50% or 60%.”
A week ago, an academic discussion was held at Peking University regarding this “intellectual achievement.” Chen Lihao stood in front of a U-shaped table, introducing his proposal to the experts. After his opening line, “I’m just an IT worker,” the room erupted in knowing laughter.
This IT “worker” spoke quickly but not loudly. He holds doors open for women, loves to laugh, and often says thank you. Watching entertainment shows, he can get teary-eyed. Employees call him “Engineer Chen,” and he rarely loses his temper, preferring instead to discuss how to solve problems. He sees himself as “the person employees feel most comfortable arguing with.”
Nowadays, it’s common in Zhuhai to see such a scene: on the way home from work, an employee drives up to him, rolls down the window, and calls out, “Engineer Chen!”
“Hey!” Chen Lihao smiles, waves at the employee, and rides away on his bike.