The auditorium held its breath the moment Haifeng stepped back to the lectern. He didn't tease the number or cloak it in marketing haze; he said it, clean and clear, as if announcing tomorrow's sunrise: the new Audi A6 starts at ¥388,000 (about \$53,900). The first clap burst from the middle rows, then rippled outward, until the hall became a thicket of hands and startled laughter. Everyone there knew what the German trio usually asked for in this class. In China, a BMW 5-Series, Mercedes-Benz E-Class, or Audi A6 typically opens around ¥520,000 (roughly \$72,200). By dropping nearly a third off that baseline while keeping the spec sheet stacked, Haifeng hadn't just tugged at the market—he'd yanked it sideways.
He stood calmly amid the noise, expression unreadable but firm, as if the work of the price cut had been done months ago and today was merely the note pinned to the door. What he had just detonated wasn't a "discount." It was a statement of intent. If wealthy buyers do pay for face and polish, then you must give them something shinier, smoother, and unmistakably great value—so that paying less feels like being smarter, not settling. "Rich buyers aren't fools," he'd told his team in the run-up. "Give them a better deal than the old rules allow, and they'll write the new rules with their wallets."
Around the front rows, managers from rival brands wore polite smiles that looked a little too tight. They understood the math. A price like ¥388,000 compresses everyone else's margin space. If they refuse to move, their showrooms empty; their profit models start coughing blood if they do move. Either way, the equilibrium that let imported luxury sedans float so far above mainstream cars had just been publicly disturbed by a domestic hand.
Cameras from the major auto portals flashed and whirred. "EastCar" (Dongche.com) lived for ambush moments like this, and their editor-in-chief, Du Chengnan, practically leapt to his feet with the mic. Du, a veteran of launch halls and tens of Q&As, knew how to cut through applause. "Director Lu," he called—then corrected himself with a friendly nod, "Haifeng—may we ask a few specifics?" He was all smiles, but a glint of curiosity said he intended to tug at the threads.
Haifeng gestured for him to go ahead.
"First," Du said, "pricing the A6 at ¥388,000 is without question aggressive. But luxury is partly price signaling. If a luxury car is too affordable, some consumers fear the 'luxury' has been watered down. Are you concerned this will undercut the A6's identity? And second, we've noticed your specs punch hard—there's real substance. Still, from Baoma to Benchi to Aodi"—he caught himself again and switched to the names everyone knew—"from BMW and Mercedes-Benz to Audi, the incumbent C-class sedans have built decades of brand gravity. A single big launch can be dazzling, but can you sustain that shock? Foreign brands enjoy a long runway here: if you force their hand, they can answer with cashback and configure cashback for months. They're patient. They can outlast a spike. What do you say to that?"
The room quieted again, this time not out of surprise but anticipation. They wanted to hear how the man who just made luxury look like smart shopping would defend the psychology of the wealthy and the stamina of his strategy.
Haifeng smiled, the small kind that doesn't reach the ears but stiffens the spine. "You're right about signaling," he said. "But price isn't the only signal. Experience is. If your engine wakes smoothly and pulls like silk from a stoplight; if your NVH stays library-quiet at highway speed; if the cabin's touchpoints—steering wheel grain, switch feel, the hush of the door seal—whisper care every time the owner interacts with it; if the HMI is fluid and sane instead of making you hunt through six menus to adjust the air; if the dealer greets you by name and finishes your coffee before your paperwork… those are signals people carry away and retell. The badge starts the conversation. The experience finishes it."
He let that settle, then went on. "As for sustainability, we didn't do this as a three-month campaign. Our suppliers, manufacturing cadence, and after-sales system were all rebuilt around a long-term price-to-value ratio. We didn't brief the market; we re-tooled for it. If others want to match temporarily with subsidies, they're welcome to. But intermittent incentives create buyer hesitation—' should I wait for next month's cashback?' A stable, fair cashback builds trust. People don't like feeling tricked by roller-coaster stickers."
In the second row, a product planner from a rival brand jotted something and frowned. He'd just heard the subtext: a promise of price stability, not a bait-and-switch. That changes how buyers behave, and therefore how competitors have to plan their promotions. If the A6 at ¥388,000 isn't a seasonal fireworks show but the new normal, then the three-German chessboard in China suddenly has a new piece that doesn't move like the others.
Du nodded but pressed again. "So you bet buyers will recalibrate 'luxury' away from a price tag and toward lived quality."
"Our bet," Haifeng said, "is that buyers are already recalibrating. They've been test-driving for years; their friends have owned multiple cars. They can tell when a spec sheet is padded with fluff." He ticked off a few points, not as a list to be displayed, but like a mechanic checking torque by feel: a chassis tuned to keep the rear composed on imperfect ring roads rather than just chasing skidpad numbers; seats that don't numb the thighs during a three-hour airport run; a 48-volt mild hybrid spool-up that kills lag without guzzling fuel; adaptive dampers that work on China's mix of fresh asphalt and tired concrete. "These are daily realities. They're what owners pay for after the honeymoon phase."
A young reporter raised a hand. "Isn't there a risk that international brands respond by slashing list prices and bundling more features, choking you at the high end while they protect their margins with scale models below?"
"There's always that risk," Haifeng said. "But there's also the risk that they're too invested in yesterday's structure to move fast. We built our processes with a lower COGS in mind. We're not playing at being efficient; we are efficient. And our customers aren't just number-hunters. They want dignity for a fair price. If someone else gives them the same dignity tomorrow for less, I'll be the first to applaud. Competition is how the customer wins."
The cameras clicked again, catching the slight tilt of his head as he delivered the line. It sounded like bravado, but it framed a moral terrain: stop overcharging or lose the market to those who don't. In a country where families tally tuition, mortgages, and parents' medical bills alongside their dreams of a car that feels like they've "made it," the message carried weight. Losing thirty percent of the sticker while keeping the feel of "made it" isn't devaluing luxury—it's stripping it of its unnecessary markup.
Backstage, someone from the team texted that social feeds were detonating. Clips of the number—¥388,000 (≈\$53,900)—were looping with captions like "luxury without the tax" and "value doesn't mean cheap." A few pundits pushed back—"branding is belief; belief has a price"—and they weren't wrong. However, belief also has receipts, and within an hour, test-drive signups were spiking across Tier-1 and Tier-2 cities—the story was written in buyer behavior.
Du lowered the mic, satisfied—for now. The exchange had not been combative so much as clarifying. Everyone had arrived wondering whether a domestic brand could seize a perch long monopolized by the German trio. They were leaving with a different question: how fast will everyone else have to climb down the price ladder to meet a bar that's just been set lower and, awkwardly for them, better?
The applause that closed the session was steadier this time, more thoughtful, the kind that says the audience understood the shape of the day. Haifeng offered a brief bow and stepped away from the lights, his phone vibrating with messages he'd promised not to check until he had a glass of water. The number had been spoken. The market would do the rest.