From "Sworn Brothers" to Mortal Enemies: Revealing the 34-Year Grudge Between Xi Jinping and Bo Xilai—A Succession Drama That Began with "Childhood Friends" and Was Decided by "Women"! [Jiang Feng Vision 20260722 Episode 442]
This episode reveals the 34-year grudge between Xi Jinping and Bo Xilai. From their first meeting in Yuyuantan Park in 1979 to their political struggles in the 1990s, the battle for the successor at the 17th National Congress in 2007, and the outbreak of the Wang Lijun incident in 2012, the video details how they transitioned from childhood friends to mortal enemies. The video specifically points out that the biggest difference between the two in their power struggle lay in their attitude toward women: Bo Xilai lost because he was out of control regarding women, whereas Xi Jinping used women to consolidate his power. Ultimately, Bo Xilai went to prison and Xi Jinping reached the top, but the video also hints at the political dilemma Xi Jinping currently faces.
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Hello, friends of Jiang Feng Perspective.
On November 16, 2013, at the Qincheng Prison in Changping, Beijing, the door lock of cell 1103 clicked. A tall man in prison uniform raised his head from the iron bed, thinking it was the prison guard coming to deliver food. The door opened, and he froze for a full three seconds. He knew the person walking in all too well—a childhood friend who had grown up together with him in the Zhongnanhai compound, the guy who looked like a total loser at Yuyuantan Park 34 years ago. Except now, this person's status was the supreme leader of the CCP country.
There is a black-comedy-like coincidence to this cell 1103: 45 years ago, the prisoner's father, Bo Yibo, was locked in the exact same room. History made a full circle, and the son ended up sitting on his father's bed. The two sat face to face. The light in the cell was very dim, the window was high and small, and the walls exuded dampness. The prisoner spoke first, using a tone half self-deprecating and half defiant to quote an old saying from Romance of the Three Kingdoms: "Since Zhou Yu was born, why must Zhuge Liang be born as well? Jinping, you won and I lost."
After a moment of silence, the Emperor said a few words. This passage was later passed around and became one of the most astonishing private conversations in high-level CCP politics. He said: "Xilai, the biggest difference between the two of us lies in women." What on earth did this sentence mean? Why would the most powerful person in all of China chat about women with a prisoner in Qincheng Prison?
To understand this conversation, we have to turn the clock back to the spring of 1979, an accidental encounter between two young men at Yuyuantan Park in Beijing.
In the spring of 1979, Beijing was slowly waking up from the nightmare of the Cultural Revolution. People on the street were beginning to wear bell-bottom pants, and Teresa Teng's songs could occasionally be heard drifting from transistor radios in the parks. Baozi had just graduated from Tsinghua University and was serving as a secretary to Geng Biao at the Central Military Commission General Office. He rode a bicycle to work every day, dressed in a green military uniform, wearing Liberation shoes on his feet, and carrying a military-style yellow book bag. Standing 1.8 meters tall, with fair skin and a quiet demeanor, he walked down the road like a silent telegraph pole.
Bo Xilai was a graduate student at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, and his advisor was the deputy editor-in-chief of the People’s Daily. He and Baozi were completely different species. Equally tall, Bo Xilai wore leather shoes and a tie, spoke in a booming voice, and was the center of attention wherever he went. In the hallways of the Academy of Social Sciences, female students privately called him "Handsome Bo".
Two people bumped into each other by chance at Yuyuantan Park. Saying they bumped into each other by chance wasn't quite accurate; they both lived in the Zhongnanhai compound when they were young and knew each other, though they weren't very close. Bo Xilai was four years older than the Steamed Bun Emperor, born in the Year of the Ox in 1949, while the Steamed Bun Emperor was born in the Year of the Snake in 1953. According to the unwritten rules of the Zhongnanhai compound, Bo Xilai was considered the older brother.
Bo Xilai looked the Steamed Bun Emperor up and down, and a sentence popped out of his mouth: "You look like a complete loser, not all that different from when you were in the cave dwellings of northern Shaanxi." The Steamed Bun Emperor smiled and didn't say a word. The two sat down on a bench in the park to chat, talking about their respective experiences over the past few years. Bo Xilai talked about his time in prison, how he was beaten, how he went hungry, and how he spent seven years in the dark. The Steamed Bun Emperor talked about his days as an educated youth sent down to Liangjiachao in Shaanxi, talking about passing the flea barrier and the labor barrier, and how he wrote ten Party membership applications before one was finally approved. Two princelings, two histories of suffering.
But as they chatted, Bo Xilai changed the subject and asked about personal matters: "How is your wife? Wasn't Ke Lingling at Tsinghua with you?" The Steamed Bun Emperor's expression darkened a bit: "She went to England." Bo Xilai curled his lip: "I told you so. You're so dull, it's no wonder the woman ran off." He patted the Steamed Bun Emperor's shoulder, lowering his voice by half a notch: "Come on, stop being so gloomy. Big brother will take you out to see the world and get you a honey.
"Honey" was slang in the late 1970s Beijing princeling circle, meaning a temporary lover. In that newly thawed era, the hormones of this group of princelings, suppressed for over a decade, were erupting collectively. And Bo Xilai was one of the most active among them.
The Steamed Bun Emperor shook his head and said no thanks. But how could Bo Xilai let him go? He grabbed the Steamed Bun Emperor's arm and pulled him toward the park exit: "Stop acting all proper with me. Come on, I'm taking you to a good place tonight.
Thy good place Bo Xilai took the Steamed Bun Emperor to was a princeling gathering near the Navy General Hospital compound. In Beijing of the late 1970s and early 1980s, an underground party style called "black-out dancing" was popular in the princeling circle. They would find a recreation room in a military compound, turn off all the lights, put on music, and men and women would dance cheek-to-cheek in the dark. This wasn't ordinary dancing; everyone present was the child of a high-ranking official, usually well-behaved under the shadows of their fathers, but completely letting loose at the black-out dance parties. When the dancing reached its peak, some would directly pull their dance partners toward the neighboring rooms, doors closing behind them, leaving the rest to unspoken mutual understanding.
Bo Xilai was the absolute protagonist on the dance floor. Over 1.8 meters tall, with well-defined facial features and a mouth as sweet as honeyed words, within three songs he was dancing so closely with a girl that they couldn't bear to part. After finishing a tune, he leaned into the girl's ear and whispered a few words, and the two smilingly vanished into the guest rooms at the end of the corridor.
And what about the Steamed Bun Emperor? He stood in a corner, clutching a cup of water in his hand, neither dancing nor chatting. One or two girls, seeing he was tall, came over to strike up a conversation, but his responses were stiff and uninteresting, either "hmm" or "not bad," never a word more. When asked where he worked, he said the General Staff Headquarters Office; when asked what he liked to do in his spare time, he said read books. The girls rolled their eyes and turned away.
Someone present later described the Steamed Bun Emperor that night as standing like a wooden post the entire evening, with no one paying him any mind. By the wee hours of the morning, Bo Xilai still hadn't emerged from the guest room, and the Steamed Bun Emperor walked silently to the entrance alone, mounted his beat-up bicycle, and vanished into the winter night of Beijing.
This scene looked like the story of an honest man—the debauched Bo Xilai went into the room, while the serious Steamed Bun Emperor rode his bike home. But things weren't that simple. It wasn't that the Steamed Bun Emperor didn't want to play; he didn't dare. He was far too clear about his situation. His father, Xi Zhongxun, had only recently been politically rehabilitated, and the family's political standing remained fragile. He himself had been locked into a Beijing juvenile detention center at the age of 15, and that dark history was like a thorn stuck in his heart. Under such circumstances, any handle—even being photographed tangling with a girl at a dance party—could be exploited by political opponents as an issue.
And what about Bo Xilai? He was fearless. Bo Yibo's position within the Party was as secure as Mount Tai, being one of the Eight Elders of the Communist Party of China, so if his son played around a bit outside, no one dared to say anything. This was the most fundamental difference between the two men; it wasn't a matter of differing personalities, but of differing senses of security. Bo Xilai felt the entire world belonged to his family, so he was entitled to indulgence; the Steamed Bun Emperor knew his foundation was shallow and could not afford a single misstep.
Thirty-four years later, the man who indulged at the dance party moved into Qincheng Prison, and the man who rode his bicycle home moved into Zhongnanhai. But don't think riding a bicycle home was a virtue; it wasn't a virtue, it was a strategy. Friends, hearing this, it is not hard to imagine that this prolonged contest, starting from their youth, relied not only on wits and methods, but above all on whose stamina could last until the very end. In this kind of top-tier political chessboard, a sound physical body is the most fundamental revolutionary capital.
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Fast forward to the 1990s, Bo Xilai was already the Mayor of Dalian. He had turned this northern port city into a bustling hub: Xinghai Square, the Fashion Festival, the Golden Pebble Beach Golf Course, and lawns and imported flowers everywhere. National media touted Dalian as the "Hong Kong of the North." Bo Xilai's own popularity soared along with it; he built a Huabiao (ornamental column) in front of the municipal government building and carved his own footprints on the beach at Xinghai Square. This display was truly that of a modern-day feudal lord.
And Xi Jinping? He was the Secretary of the Fuzhou Municipal Committee in Fujian, with little fame and even less fanfare. He followed a routine of meetings, inspections, and report writing every day. If there was anything worth mentioning, it was a city development plan called the "3820 Project," but hardly anyone outside the region had even heard of it.
Two "princelings," one infinitely glamorous, the other obscure. Yet they kept in touch; after all, they came from the same circle and knew each other's roots. Once, Xi flew to Dalian specifically, ostensibly to learn about city management experience. Bo Xilai was very proud, taking him on a tour of Dalian's iconic projects by car, pointing out the landscape while sharing his insights: "The secret to managing a city is three words: speculating in land. Once you build up the city's reputation, land prices go up. Once land prices go up, banks scramble to lend you money, and you have everything. You can follow this path in Fuzhou too."
Xi listened very carefully, nodding from time to time and taking notes in a small notebook. This logic of land speculation was later indeed digested and absorbed by him, becoming the underlying strategy of the Fuzhou "3820 Project." But he wouldn't tell Bo Xilai any of this; in front of him, Xi was always the humble younger brother seeking advice.
In the evening, the two drank. Bo Xilai had a high tolerance for alcohol, and by the second half of the session, he had completely relaxed. As the night breeze from Dalian blew in through the window, he suddenly put away his smile and looked at Xi with a rare, serious tone: "Jinping, let me tell you something from the bottom of my heart: you and I will eventually become enemies." Xi's hand holding the wine glass froze.
Bo Xilai continued, "Deng Xiaoping listed us both in the fifth echelon, but there is only one seat for the future General Secretary. If you don't compete with me, then there's nothing to say; we are still brothers. But if you compete..." He didn't finish the sentence, picked up his glass, and downed it in one gulp.
Xi was silent for a few seconds, then smiled and said something extremely humble: "I am just a worker-peasant-soldier student, how could I have the ability to compete with you? Don't worry." Bo Xilai nodded with satisfaction and poured himself another glass.
That same night, Bo Xilai also uttered a famous quote that would later be repeatedly cited: "The more stressful work is, the more I like to find women. Revolution is the best aphrodisiac." He even arranged women for Xi through Dalian businessman Xu Ming, or as he put it, "sending honey."
Bo Xilai's "sending honey" was not purely out of lust or generosity. In the power ecology of the CCP, sending women is a means of establishing control. If you accept my people, you owe me a debt; when I need to use you in the future, you will be too embarrassed to say no. But what Bo Xilai didn't know was that he had misjudged one thing. He thought the person sitting across from him was an honest man with no ability, not knowing that the honest man was better at hiding than he was. That sentence, "I am just a worker-peasant-soldier student, how could I have the ability to compete with you?" was the most successful lie Xi Jinping ever told in his life.
In 2007, the real decisive battle arrived. The 17th National Congress of the CCP was to determine the next successor, the crown prince. There were three most powerful candidates: Xi Jinping, Li Keqiang, and Bo Xilai. Bo Xilai thought he had already won. In terms of background, Bo Yibo was one of the Eight Elders of the CCP, with a higher status in the party than Xi Zhongxun; in terms of education, he was a graduate student at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, while Xi was a worker-peasant-soldier student; in terms of political achievements, he had turned Dalian into the "Pearl of the North" and served as Minister of Commerce for four years, dancing gracefully in international settings. Western media called him "China's Kennedy."
In contrast, the Steamed Bun spent 17 years in Fujian and 5 years in Zhejiang, keeping a low profile the whole time. Ordinary people across the country had never even heard his name. But Bo Xilai made a fatal mistake: he was too high-profile. A decade earlier at the 15th National Congress, he had already suffered a major setback. In 1997, he set his sights on becoming a member of the CCP Central Committee, only to be collectively boycotted by the Liaoning delegation, receiving not a single vote. Upon returning to the Dalian airport, his Deputy Mayor Sun Guangtian organized 1,500 people to greet him, holding banners that read "The People of Dalian Support You," while deliberately giving the cold shoulder to Municipal Party Secretary Yu Xuexiang, who was on the same flight. This incident was reported to the central authorities and deemed extremely serious; within the party's organizational system, this amounted to staging an illegal demonstration and directly challenging the central leadership. Bo Xilai was so infuriated that he was hospitalized in the Dalian Friendship Hospital, confined to bed for over 20 days. According to insiders, even Gu Kailai looked down on him, not even visiting him during his hospitalization, leaving only his secretary to care for him.
A decade later at the 17th National Congress, Bo Xilai still hadn't changed his habits. His arrogance and overbearing manner made party elders uneasy. If someone like that came to power, who could possibly keep him in check? In the end, Jiang Zemin and Zeng Qinghong chose the Steamed Bun. The reason was simple: he made the retired elders feel at ease. He never sought the spotlight and never argued with leaders. While in Zhejiang, he took meticulous care of the retired Jiang Zemin, taking Peng Liyuan to pay respects at the earliest opportunity. This kind of person was the successor the CCP system needed.
For friends less familiar with the CCP officialdom, let me explain that the top-tier power structure of the CCP is divided into two layers. The outer circle is called the Politburo members, numbering around 25, equivalent to a board of directors. The inner circle is called the Politburo Standing Committee, consisting of only 7 to 9 people, and this is the core that truly makes the final decisions. The crown prince is the next successor chosen from within the Standing Committee.
In June 2007, at the Beijing Xiyuan Hotel, over 400 members of the Central Committee cast recommendation votes. The results were out: the Steamed Bun got 211 votes, and Li Keqiang got 209 votes. Separated by just two votes, both of them bypassed the usual steps to enter the Politburo Standing Committee, becoming the successors to Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao. What about Bo Xilai? He did enter the Politburo as a member, making him a vice-national-level official and crossing the threshold of party and state leadership. But the problem was that both of his rivals entered the Standing Committee, while he only entered the outer circle. To put it metaphorically, the others entered the VIP box, while he only got a standing-room ticket for the main hall.
The Steamed Bun secured the crown prince position with the slimmest of margins, while Bo Xilai was packed off to Chongqing. On the surface, it looked like a promotion, but in reality, he was kicked out of the core of power. Yet how could Bo Xilai be someone who resigned himself to fate? After arriving in Chongqing, he went even harder than he did in Dalian: launching the " Singing and Striking" campaign, with tens of thousands singing revolutionary red songs together, setting up over 100 task forces in three months, and arresting 5,000 gangsters. National media endlessly discussed the "Chongqing Model," and even when Kissinger visited China, he made a special trip to Chongqing. Bo Xilai's goal was crystal clear: to use Chongqing as a springboard to sprint toward the 2018 18th National Congress and at least force his way into the Standing Committee.
The Steamed Bun saw things very clearly, but he was not in a hurry; he was waiting for the right moment. In October 2011, an old acquaintance from the US State Department visited Beijing. This lady, Sarah, was a senior intelligence official at the FBI and also the person in charge of the Iowa sister-state program back in the day. She had known the Steamed Bun since the 1980s and was considered an old friend. Her nominal purpose for visiting China this time was to prepare for next year's US trip. After the official meeting concluded, Sarah requested a few moments to speak in private. Once their entourage stepped out, she pulled a stack of documents from her briefcase and handed them over. The Steamed Bun opened them, and his expression changed.
Those were encrypted emails intercepted and decrypted by US intelligence agencies. What was the content? Wang Lijun, Bo Xilai's Chongqing Public Security Bureau chief, had used intelligence personnel from the General Staff Third Department to secretly wiretap the call logs of multiple central leaders. The monitored list included Ministry of Supervision head Ma Wen, Jiang Zemin, and the Steamed Bun himself. The recipient of all the emails was Wang Lijun, but Sarah reminded him: "Wang Lijun is just a supporting actor; the real director is your old friend."
The Steamed Bun put down the documents, stood up, and paced back and forth in his office several times. Then he called Ministry of Supervision head Ma Wen inside.
Ma Wen looked at the documents.
She raised her head and uttered words that shocked him even more: "We already have a grasp of all these situations."
"What? You knew about this long ago? Then why didn't you make a move?"
Ma Wen took a sip of water and spilled the inside story: she had discovered Wang Lijun's wiretapping operation at the beginning of 2011, and after investigating it thoroughly, she reported it directly to Hu Jintao. But Old Hu's written instruction consisted of four characters: "Closely monitor."
Why not take action? Because Hu Jintao saw it very clearly: Bo Xilai's knife was aimed at Emperor Steamed Bun, not at him. "Xiang Zhuang performs the sword dance, but his aim is at Pei Gong." Hu Jintao was squeezed out by Jiang Zemin at the 17th National Congress, and Li Keqiang had long held a grievance in his heart over the successor's seat. Now, sitting on the mountain to watch the tigers fight and watching the two consume each other, why would he not be happy to do so?
After Ma Yu (马𫘜) finished speaking, Emperor Steamed Bun remained silent for a long time, and then said a sentence: "I will handle this matter myself." He understood a truth: in the rules of the game in Zhongnanhai, no one will sincerely block bullets for you. Hu Jintao wouldn't, and Jiang Zemin wouldn't either. If you want to survive, you can only take action yourself.
Four months later, late at night on February 6, 2012, Chongqing Public Security Bureau Chief Wang Lijun disguised himself and fled, single-handedly breaking into the US Consulate in Chengdu. The empire that Bo Xilai had painstakingly built began to collapse from within. The timing that Emperor Steamed Bun had waited for for more than half a year had finally arrived.
Everyone knows what happened next. In March 2012, Bo Xilai was dismissed from his post as Secretary of the Chongqing Municipal Committee of the CCP. Gu Kailai's murder of British businessman Neil Heywood also came to light. The Gang of Three alliance consisting of Zhou Yongkang, Bo Xilai, and Ling Jihua was dismantled one by one. It is said that Zhou Yongkang and Bo Xilai had five secret meetings, plotting to use public opinion and security forces to overthrow Emperor Steamed Bun within two years of his coming to power. Zhou Yongkang privately said, "That man is too weak; Bo Xilai is truly the future leader of China." And the result? The man who was too weak firmly sat on the dragon chair, while the men who were too tough all ended up in Qincheng Prison.
Let us return to the beginning: November 16, 2013, Cell 1103 of Qincheng Prison. Bo Xilai sat on the iron bed, facing Emperor Steamed Bun, who had already been the supreme leader for a year. The two had a face-to-face meeting for the last time. Bo Xilai's opening remarks carried the arrogance of a literati and the unwillingness of a loser: "Why create Yu, if you must also create Liang? Jinping, you won and I lost."
Emperor Steamed Bun did not respond to this remark, but remained silent for a moment, and then said something that Bo Xilai never expected: "Xilai, the biggest difference between the two of us lies in women. Who knows how many women you have slept with, but how many could genuinely help you? Think about it, if it weren't for Gu Kailai, would you have fallen to this point?" Then he listed his own confidantes, saying that each of them was good to him. The implication was clear: I have women too, but my women help me accomplish things, while your women help you ruin things.
After hearing this, Bo Xilai reportedly remained silent for a long time. The surface of this dialogue was about relationships between men and women, but its essence was about control. Bo Xilai believed all his power was truth throughout his life; his attitude toward women was possessive, using them and discarding them without ever caring about the consequences. When Gu Kailai opened a law firm in Dalian, she was already overbearing, and upon reaching Chongqing, she became even more uncontainable, ultimately personally poisoning British businessman Neil Heywood. If Bo Xilai could not even control his own woman, how could he control a country?
As for Emperor Steamed Bun, his attitude toward women was functional. Behind every relationship lay precise political calculation. Liu Xiaoqing helped him deal with Jiang Zemin, Peng Liyuan helped him build a public image of a model family, and others had their own respective uses. He would never let any woman get out of control to threaten his power. Because for him, power always came before desire. Therefore, the phrase "The biggest difference between the two of us lies in women" translated into plain language means: "The difference between you and me is not who is more lustful, but who is better at managing people."
There is no record of how the two said goodbye in the end. But one can imagine the scene: one man sat on the iron bed, watching the other's back disappear down the end of the corridor, the door closing behind him, the sound of the latch dull and clear.
Twelve years passed after the Qincheng dialogue. Bo Xilai was still serving a life sentence in Qincheng Prison. His son, Bo Guagua, fled to Taiwan in 2024, married the daughter of a hospital family in Yilan, became a Taiwan son-in-law, and even posted a long article on social media to air grievances for his parents, claiming that the Bo and Xi families had never had a grudge—do you believe that? Gu Kailai was still serving a life sentence in prison. According to Bo Guagua's account, she had been drugged by Wang Lijun and had been bedridden for a long time.
And what was the situation of the person in Qincheng Prison who lectured Bo Xilai, saying "You failed because of women"? In 2025, China's military newspaper published eight consecutive commentary articles, every single one of which alluded to "sealing titles for wives and granting sons official posts," "loyalty to individuals," and "engaging in family dynastic rule." Without naming names, every sentence pointed directly to Peng Liyuan and the Emperor himself. Back then he mocked Bo Xilai for failing to control his own woman; now his own woman was becoming a target of attack by political opponents.
Liu Yuan publicly advocated for the nationalization of the military and the abolition of obeying the Party's command. Zhang Youxia purged the "Xi faction" on a large scale within the military, taking down confidantes such as He Weidong and Miao Hua. Retired elders held secret meetings in Beidaihe, and three forces converged into an anti-Xi alliance, temporarily causing the Emperor to lose supreme power. But the game in Zhongnanhai has never been a one-sided slaughter.
On January 24, 2026, Zhang Youxia and Liu Zhenli were officially announced to be under investigation, with the charge of "severely trampling upon and undermining the system of the Chairman of the Central Military Commission assuming overall responsibility." Of the seven members of the 20th Central Military Commission, five have fallen by this moment, leaving only the Emperor and one Zhang Shengmin. The area around Zhongnanhai is swarming with armed police and SWAT police. This bloodbath, which began at the Third Plenary Session of the 20th Central Committee, has seen both sides bleeding and suffering losses, yet neither has won completely.
Right now, everyone is watching the upcoming Fifth Plenary Session, which is the outpost battle for the troop deployment of the 21st National Congress. Whoever gains ground at the Fifth Plenary Session will be able to determine the next decade of China.
Alright, friends, that is all for today's story. If you found it insightful, please help by liking, sharing with friends, subscribing to the channel, and turning on the notification bell so you don't miss the next episode.