
Lu Fang
Chairman & CEO
After 20 years at FAW, Lu Fang crossed to rival state enterprise Dongfeng to lead a premium EV project that had no product, no brand, and no team. When the brand nearly collapsed in 2022, Dongfeng stripped his CTO title. He kept the CEO role, led the recovery, and guided Voyah to the Hong Kong Stock Exchange — replacing Dongfeng itself.
Transformation Arc
In July 2022, Dongfeng Motor Group convened the most sweeping leadership reshuffle in its history. Lu Fang (卢放) kept his title as CEO of Voyah (岚图), the premium electric vehicle brand he had been recruited to build four years earlier. He lost CTO. New executives arrived from WEY and Zeekr — competitors whose brands were already selling in volumes Voyah could not match. Automotive media in China asked the obvious question: how long before the CEO follows his title out the door?
Endure. Bitterly endure. I take the lead in enduring.
Twenty years at the wheel #
To understand what Fang risked in 2018, you must first understand what he left behind. China’s state-owned automotive sector operates on vertical loyalty. Engineers at FAW Group (中国一汽) — headquartered in Changchun, Jilin province — do not cross to Dongfeng, any more than a General Motors lifer would defect to Ford. The two companies share a sector and an ultimate shareholder (the state), but they function as rivals with distinct cultures and internal hierarchies built over decades. The informal networks that determine whose proposals get funded and whose calls get returned cannot be carried across the SOE line. They must be rebuilt from nothing.
Fang had spent twenty years becoming the kind of engineer who understands not just how to build cars but how to navigate the bureaucracy that decides which cars get built. At FAW, that institutional knowledge was currency. At a rival enterprise, it was worth nothing. In 2018, Dongfeng offered a title — Special Project Technical Director — and an undefined premium electric vehicle mandate. No product existed. No brand had been named. No team had been assembled. For an engineer who had spent two decades accumulating institutional capital, the decision to walk away was a calculated career gamble inside a system that does not reward lateral moves and rarely forgives them.
Seven hundred engineers and no car #
What Fang found at Dongfeng was a blank page with a Fortune 500 letterhead. In 2019, when the h Business Division (h事业部) was formally established, he was handed both CEO and CTO titles and a team of roughly 700 engineers drawn from more than a hundred companies. None of them had built a premium car together. Most had spent their careers on commercial vehicles and mid-range sedans.
In July 2020, the project acquired a name: 岚图 (Lán Tú) — mountain mist over the horizon. The characters evoked Chinese landscape painting, the kind of cultural resonance a state enterprise needed if the brand was to mean anything beyond engineering specifications. For Fang, the brand launch was the first public proof that the project he had crossed SOE lines to build was real.
The following year brought two structural milestones that would prove decisive. First deliveries of the Voyah FREE began in June 2021, confirming the product existed. More significantly, an employee stock ownership plan gave Fang and the core team a financial stake — unprecedented for a state enterprise subsidiary. That structural independence, achieved before anyone knew how badly it would be needed, gave Voyah room to manoeuvre when the parent’s patience ran out.
The crucible #
By May 2022, the patience was gone. Voyah was selling barely a thousand cars a month. Annual targets had been slashed from 46,000 to 31,000. Fang launched a 100-day emergency mobilization — the 百日万辆 (bǎi rì wàn liàng) campaign — staking whatever credibility he had left on a number his own team doubted they could reach.
“I once joked that I wagered all the reputation of my entire career on this bet, so I can only succeed,” he told CLS (财联社) that August. The word “joked” carried no levity. His risk was not financial — unlike founders who mortgage homes or drain savings, Fang had not put personal wealth on the line. What he had wagered was the accumulated professional capital of a 24-year career, compressed into a single venture at a rival enterprise. If Voyah failed, the career was the casualty.
Two months later, Dongfeng delivered its verdict. The July leadership reshuffle stripped Fang’s CTO title and replaced the chief brand officer. New talent from WEY and Zeekr signalled that Dongfeng was hedging. Automotive journalists wrote pieces that read like professional obituaries.
He did not speak publicly about doubt. No confessional interview exists in which Fang admitted the project might fail. Across Huxiu, CLS, 36Kr, and D1EV, he consistently projected controlled determination — the discipline of a man who understood that in a state enterprise, the appearance of uncertainty is as dangerous as uncertainty itself. The public record reveals character through what Fang did and endured, not through what he confessed.
What his team saw was captured on a personalized Coke can, presented during a May Day celebration: “熬,苦熬,我带头熬” (áo, kǔ áo, wǒ dài tóu áo) — “Endure. Bitterly endure. I take the lead in enduring.” A senior colleague from Tongji University called it the most apt summary of Fang she had encountered. The phrase was not crafted for the press. It was a team’s spontaneous tribute to a leadership style defined by refusal to quit.
Years later, speaking to Huxiu (虎嗅) in his most candid interview on record, Fang acknowledged what the controlled exterior had concealed: “Frankly speaking, over the past few years we’ve faced enormous pressure both internally and externally… sticking to this has been incredibly difficult.” The Chinese — 太难了 (tài nán le, “too difficult”) — is unusually raw from an automotive CEO operating within SOE constraints. It is the closest the record comes to a private admission that the bet had very nearly not paid off.
What the bet proved #
Fang held the CEO role. The brand recovered — through emergency outside capital, an aggressive price reset, a product the market wanted, and a Huawei technology partnership that transformed the lineup. By the fourth quarter of 2024, Voyah posted its first quarterly profit. Full-year 2025 confirmed the turnaround: 150,169 deliveries, ¥34.86 billion in revenue, a first annual profit of ¥1.02 billion. The brand Fang had been recruited to build was no longer a subsidized experiment but the most profitable entity in Dongfeng’s portfolio.
In August 2025, Dongfeng announced it would privatize and delist from the Hong Kong Stock Exchange. Voyah would list in its place under stock code 07489.HK — a subsidiary replacing its Fortune 500 parent on the same exchange. The previous September, Fang had been promoted to Chairman, consolidating the authority he had nearly lost three years earlier. The career bet placed in 2018 — crossing SOE lines for an undefined mandate — had closed. The engineer who survived the 2022 reshuffle now led a public company that replaced its parent on the same exchange.
Fang’s story does not fit the template of the maverick founder who risks everything on personal conviction. His risk was career-reputational, not financial. His crisis was institutional, not existential in the way a founder facing personal bankruptcy experiences it. What his arc demonstrates is something distinct: that intrapreneurial conviction within institutional constraint can achieve outcomes that entrepreneurial freedom alone cannot. Fang did not build Voyah by escaping the system. He built it by making the system need him more than he needed it.
Skip to main content