AsianFin -- A high-stakes inheritance battle is engulfing the family of the late Zong Qinghou, once China’s richest man and founder of beverage giant Wahaha Group. As legal and familial tensions mount, Zong’s younger brother, Zong Zehou, has gone public again—urging his niece, Zong Fuli, to show restraint and compassion toward her half-siblings amid a widening rift over the family's multibillion-dollar fortune.
“Don’t push them into a corner where they have nowhere to go,” Zong Zehou said in remarks published by Barron’s China, in reference to three children born from Zong Qinghou’s relationship with Du Jianying, a long-serving executive at Wahaha. While Zong Fuli, widely viewed as the heir apparent, has consolidated control of the company, relatives say her recent moves have sidelined and alienated other family members.
The $7 billion Wahaha empire is now the focal point of public speculation and internal discord. The feud has captivated China’s business elite and online audiences alike, fueled by rumors, anonymous blog posts, and increasingly personal accusations among family members.
Zong Zehou defended his decision to speak out, saying he believed Zong Fuli’s actions could cause “significant harm” to her siblings. “Had the situation been reversed—if Du had inherited everything and left Zong Fuli and her mother with nothing—I would have spoken up just the same,” he said.
Zong Fuli has not responded publicly to the comments.
The dispute comes at a delicate moment for Wahaha, a legacy brand that once symbolized the entrepreneurial dynamism of China’s reform era. Since Zong Qinghou’s passing earlier this year, Zong Fuli has led a restructuring push that includes shifting assets into a private firm, Hongsheng, in which she holds 100% ownership.
Zong Zehou questioned whether this move amounts to the “hollowing out” of Wahaha, a company in which state-owned capital holds a majority stake. “Is she paying licensing fees for the Wahaha trademark? If not, is this not the misappropriation of state assets?” he asked, calling on regulators in Hangzhou to scrutinize the transfer.
On a personal level, he added, Du Jianying’s legal status as Zong Qinghou’s wife—and the rights of their children—should not be disregarded. “Emotionally, some may reject her as a mistress, but legally, her rights deserve protection,” he said.
The Wahaha founder’s relationship with Du, though not publicly acknowledged until now, had been an open secret in Hangzhou’s business circles. According to people familiar with the matter, Du played a critical role in the company’s operations, serving as Party Secretary and helping steer Wahaha through major corporate milestones, including the Danone dispute and equity reforms in the 1990s.
Zong Zehou, who was instrumental in Wahaha’s early years, says his contributions—along with Du’s—were central to the company’s rise. “Wahaha was founded with me and thrived under Du Jianying,” he said, recalling how his early work in oral health supplements inspired the children’s nutritional products that catapulted the company to national prominence.
But as Wahaha grew into a corporate giant, family entanglements became increasingly complex. Zong Zehou, who left China in the early 1990s, said he remained loosely connected to the firm and its employees. Veteran staff, he noted, still refer to him as “master.”
Now, as online speculation surges around the inheritance dispute, he says misinformation and conspiracy theories are muddying public understanding—and harming reputations. In particular, he denied malicious rumors implying he may have fathered the children from the second household. “I’m amazed people can make this stuff up,” he said.
Zong Fuli, educated in the U.S. and long groomed as her father’s successor, has leaned into her image as a modern, assertive businesswoman. But her uncle argues that the aggressive PR campaign following her father's death—portraying her as a stoic daughter reclaiming her mother’s dignity—has damaged the founder’s legacy.
“Now that she holds power, another wave of publicity has made her into a goddess avenging the past. Her father’s carefully built image has collapsed overnight,” Zong Zehou said. “Has she considered that her current achievements rest on that very legacy?”
The public nature of the conflict, he warned, threatens to overshadow the values Zong Qinghou represented during his rise from a small-town entrepreneur to a national icon of private industry.
Beyond the family drama, the succession battle is drawing attention from corporate governance experts and government officials. Wahaha’s partial state ownership adds a layer of complexity, raising questions about asset transfers, trademark use, and compliance with China’s evolving SOE oversight rules.
“If the government gets involved now, it may look like it’s suppressing private enterprise again,” Zong Zehou said, referring to Beijing’s recent push to reinvigorate the private sector.
Still, he argues that some form of regulatory inquiry is warranted. “This isn’t just a family dispute anymore—it’s a matter of public interest,” he said.
Zong Zehou concluded his remarks with a pointed message for social media influencers and content creators: “Before the facts are clear, don’t speak recklessly. Many online posts have already crossed into defamation.”
“If defamatory videos appear again,” he warned, “I will gather evidence and pursue legal action.”
