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| Ten Years Done, But Not Over? Ex-WJSN's Wu Xuanyi Dispute Raises Big Questions About Idol Contracts in China. (Credits: Weibo) |
The fallout between Wu Xuanyi and Yuehua Entertainment has escalated into one of the most talked-about contract disputes of 2026, with the core issue brutally simple: she says it’s over, the company says it’s not.
After a full decade under management, the former Cosmic Girls (WJSN) member formally declined renewal ahead of her contract’s 24 February expiry.
Yet instead of a clean break, she’s now caught in a legal grey zone thanks to a clause that, frankly, reads like it never wants to let go.
At the centre of the dispute is a so-called “automatic renewal” provision buried in Article 9 of the contract. According to Yuehua Entertainment, unless both sides explicitly agree in writing to end the deal, it quietly rolls over for another year. Convenient, depending on which side you’re on.
Wu Xuanyi, however, had already submitted written notice on 6 February stating she would not continue. Her position is clear: a contract shouldn’t renew itself like a subscription you forgot to cancel.
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| Why Wu Xuanyi Can’t Leave Yuehua Yet: Contract Controversy Breakdown |
Her team argues the clause crosses into legally questionable territory, describing it as a one-sided standard term that undermines fairness and voluntary agreement under China’s Civil Code.
More pointedly, they claim it creates the risk of indefinite extensions, effectively trapping an artist in a loop with no real exit. It’s not just about paperwork; it’s about control.
Things only became more heated when reports surfaced of a tense negotiation involving Wu Xuanyi’s mother, who allegedly clashed with company representatives during discussions.
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A circulating video shows her challenging the agency over access to contracts signed over the past decade. Her frustration is blunt and difficult to ignore: how can an artist verify work, income, or terms if they’ve never even seen the documents?
A Yuehua staff member’s response in the clip, suggesting others also hadn’t seen their contracts, didn’t exactly calm the situation. If anything, it poured fuel on an already burning conversation.
Yuehua’s official response, released on 29 April, pushes back firmly. The company denies any claims of improper treatment, rejects accusations of withholding contract access, and insists all matters will be resolved through legal channels.
🍵#WuXuanyi’s mother said that over the past ten years, they have asked to see the contract, but Yuehua has not allowed it. It’s not just WXY others haven’t been able to see their contracts either. WXY herself never signed the contract; the company signed it on her behalf.#Cent https://t.co/YGUM95uJpJ pic.twitter.com/zyy1Shzrwv
— 瓜🍉 (@CentGossip_) April 30, 2026
Notably, though, the statement skirts around the central controversy — the validity and fairness of the automatic renewal clause itself. That silence hasn’t gone unnoticed.
Behind the scenes, the disagreement also touches on deeper concerns about transparency. Wu Xuanyi’s side alleges that over the ten-year period, the agency maintained full control over her commercial deals, including endorsements and performance contracts, without providing complete records.
Payments, they claim, were determined solely by the company. Yuehua counters that such arrangements fall within normal agency operations. The gap between “standard practice” and “artist rights” is now very much under scrutiny.
Fans and Cnetz are sharply divided, with some rallying behind Wu Xuanyi, arguing that no artist should have to fight this hard just to walk away after fulfilling a contract. Others take a more cautious stance, pointing out that long-term management deals often include complex clauses, and that legal interpretation will ultimately decide who’s right.
Then there’s a third group — perhaps the most vocal — who are less interested in sides and more concerned about what this reveals about the broader industry. Because if one contract works like this, how many others do too?
Whether the courts side with Wu Xuanyi or Yuehua Entertainment, the outcome could set a precedent that reshapes how contracts are written — or at least how closely they’re read.
For now, the situation remains unresolved, sitting awkwardly between “expired” and “ongoing”. And as more details continue to surface, the question isn’t just who wins, but what changes next. Because if a ten-year contract can’t end cleanly, what exactly does “finished” even mean in this industry? Is this a necessary legal battle or a warning sign for idols everywhere?