iQIYI's Copyright Lawsuits Hit Car Rental Firms and Ordinary People
A car rental company in China recently received a court summons that had nothing to do with cars. According to reports from New Yellow River and other Chinese outlets, an assistant to a lawyer representing the streaming platform iQIYI rented a vehicle, then used the car’s browser to search for and play a film. The evidence was collected, and the rental company was sued for copyright infringement. The practice has a name in Chinese media: ‘fishing for evidence.’
iQIYI is one of China’s largest video platforms, home to hit costume dramas such as The Journey of Flower and Love Between Fairy and Devil. In recent years it has filed a growing number of copyright suits, not only against major internet companies like Bilibili, Kuaishou, Migu and Xunlei, but also against small businesses that sell computers, rent cars or even provide roadside rescue. The defendants often have little connection to the film industry; they simply provided a device or a place where a movie could be watched.
The legal theory is that a business offering internet-connected devices to customers is responsible for what those customers watch. Critics argue this stretches copyright law beyond its purpose. In a widely shared essay, a commentator noted the irony that iQIYI’s own fantasy dramas are built on stories about heroes who sacrifice themselves to protect ordinary people. In the real world, the same company is accused of pursuing small firms and individuals to recover damages, a practice the essay described as ‘ordinary people sacrificed for corporate rights protection.’
The sums involved are usually modest, but the burden on small businesses can be heavy. A car rental shop or a computer store may not have a legal team, and fighting a case in court can cost more than settling. Media reports suggest some courts have questioned the evidence-gathering methods, while others have ruled in iQIYI’s favor. The result is a patchwork of outcomes that leaves defendants uncertain and platforms emboldened.
The dispute reflects a broader tension in China’s streaming market. Platforms spend heavily on original content and hold valuable libraries, but piracy and unauthorized viewing remain widespread. Enforcement is necessary, yet when it targets firms far removed from actual piracy, public sympathy shifts. The phrase ‘fishing rights protection’ has become a shorthand for the sense that the system is being gamed.
For global readers, the case is a reminder that copyright enforcement is rarely just a legal matter. It shapes how ordinary people view media companies and how small businesses operate. In China, where short video and streaming are woven into daily life, the line between a viewer and an infringer is blurry. A rented car with a browser, a shop’s demo laptop, a rescue worker’s phone: all can become evidence.
iQIYI has not publicly detailed its litigation strategy, and the company maintains that it is protecting its intellectual property. But the debate is unlikely to fade. As more small firms find themselves in court, the question of who should bear the cost of copyright protection, and whether ‘fishing’ tactics are fair, will keep drawing attention. For now, the story serves as a cautionary tale about the price of watching a movie in the wrong place.