In September 2023, six former college roommates gathered in the warm, humid air of Liuzhou, located in Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, to mark a quiet milestone: half a decade of unbroken friendship after graduation. What started as a joyful, intimate moment captured in a single photograph shared publicly on the Chinese social media platform Xiaohongshu would quickly transform into a 12-month battle to reclaim their dignity and hold a content creator accountable for digital exploitation.
Weeks after the photo was posted, the unassuming snapshot was stolen and weaponized for online traffic. A Douyin short-video creator going by the username “Business Tycoon” republished the image, overlaid a digital price tag on the frame, and shared the altered post with his 330,000 followers alongside an inflammatory caption: “The bride price is 100,000 yuan. Which one would you pick as your girlfriend?”
For Xiaoting — a pseudonym used by one of the women in the photo to protect her privacy — and her five friends, this marked the beginning of a traumatic, extended fight to remove the defamatory content and force the creator to face consequences for his actions. Their fight would ultimately conclude a year later, in September 2024, when the Guangzhou Internet Court issued a ruling ordering the creator, identified only by his surname Luo, to pay financial damages to the women and publish a formal public apology for fabricating the viral bride price rumor using a stolen photograph.
Xiaoting first learned of the malicious post when an online contact messaged her to alert her about the content. She immediately searched for the video on Douyin, and was stunned by what she found: hundreds of comments engaging with the dehumanizing framing of the post, treating the six women like purchasable goods rather than real people.
Comments on the post ranged from crude jokes to outright objectifying bids. “I’m not picky, I’ll take any,” one user wrote. Another joked, “I’ll take all six as a package deal — I can’t bear to split the sisters up.”
“We had such a beautiful memory captured in that photo, and it got turned into this. It was completely absurd,” Xiaoting recalled in an interview.
Initially assuming the post was the result of an innocent misunderstanding, Xiaoting reached out directly to the creator to demand he remove the content. When she checked back the following weekend, the post was still live — and it had been joined by multiple altered variations. One version numbered each woman from “first sister” to “sixth sister” and repeated the false bride price claim, prompting more users to weigh in with their “choices” as if the women were being auctioned off.
Xiaoting and her friends flooded the creator’s inbox and the post’s comment section with repeated demands to take the content down, but their requests were met with total silence. Digging deeper into the creator’s account, the women quickly realized their photo was not a one-off target: the creator had a pattern of stealing other women’s public photos, spinning false sexualized rumors about them to generate clicks and engagement, and using the traffic to promote household goods he sold through the account.
Further investigation revealed the creator also operated a paid “dating fans group” on the platform, and had reused Xiaoting’s stolen photo as the group’s official avatar. When the six women joined the group to set the record straight and clarify the entire story was fabricated, they were immediately removed from the group and blocked by the admin.
The women filed formal complaints about the video with Douyin’s moderation team, but the platform only responded with a generic template message stating it could not confirm that copyright infringement had occurred or that Xiaoting was the legal rights holder of the photo. Complaints to other regulatory platforms similarly went nowhere. Even when a small number of posts were removed, the creator faced no other public consequences, and he quickly reposted the content to other areas of the platform.
As the false rumor spread, the harassment eventually spilled out of the digital space and into the women’s everyday real lives. One of the roommates faced awkward teasing at her workplace, where a colleague joked, “Are you out recruiting a husband online?” Xiaoting also received repeated messages from acquaintances, half in jest and half in earnest, asking if she really was advertising herself for a 100,000 yuan bride price — forcing her to explain the situation over and over again to people she knew in real life.
All six women experienced severe emotional distress as the saga dragged on. Even though a court would later formally rule they were the wronged victims of intellectual property rights infringement, some members of the group found themselves internalizing a sense of misplaced shame over ever sharing the original photo. Refusing to let the harassment stand, Xiaoting made the decision to file an official report with local police. According to Xiaoting, after hearing her account, an officer told her the posts had not caused “substantial harm” and declined to open a formal case.
Using an alternate account, Xiaoting reached out to the creator once more to inform him she had filed a police report. This time, he replied, writing “Sorry, I deleted it” and claiming he had copied the photo from another user’s post he found via a search engine. When Xiaoting pushed back, explaining that deleting one post could not undo the damage from all the other iterations he had published across the platform, his response made it clear he felt put upon by her demands. “He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong at all,” Xiaoting said. Through their persistent pursuit of legal accountability, the women ultimately secured the ruling they had fought for, setting a small but important precedent for addressing digital sexual exploitation and image theft in China’s fast-growing online ecosystem.