LV 赢了茉莉奶白。一审判赔 1030 万，理由是四叶花图案长得像 LV 老花。

判决一出，微博炸了。热搜第一，阅读量几亿。网友的反应很有意思——不是一边倒地骂抄袭，也不是一边倒地喊活该。大部分人第一反应是：一朵花，凭什么你LV能用，中国奶茶店就不能用？

这个反应本身，比判决书更值得写。

一层皮：法律上，茉莉奶白输得不冤

先把场子摆清楚。从条文的视角看，这个判罚是有依据的。

LV 那朵四叶花卉图形，1985 年就在中国注册了商标。覆盖 18 类（箱包）、25 类（服装），而且被认定为驰名商标。驰名商标在法律上有个特权叫"跨类保护"——即便你不在同一个行业，只要用了近似的标识、让消费者产生了联想，就可以追诉。

茉莉奶白在这件事上犯了一个致命的低级错误：2024 年他们尝试申请四叶花卉图形商标，被国家知识产权局驳回了。引证商标里就包括 LV。也就是说，茉莉奶白明确知道这朵花有问题，还是在全国 2400 多家门店照用不误。

这就叫"明知故犯"。在商标法里，主观故意是最重的加重情节。法院按照他们 2025 年营收 40 亿、侵权产品占比 35% 来算，定了个 1000 万的经济赔偿 + 30 万维权开支。从法律技术上说，没什么离谱的。

律师们普遍认为二审翻盘概率不大，焦点最多是赔偿额能不能砍一刀。

所以法条上讲完了。但要是这篇文章只讲到这里，那就是一篇法学院期末考试答案——正确，没劲。

真正的文章，在条文背后。

二层皮：规则从来不是中立的，它是谁写的？

好，现在问第一个问题：驰名商标跨类保护，保护的是谁？

这个规则设计的初衷听起来很美——打击恶意山寨，保护品牌商誉。但在落地的时候，它天然地倾向谁？倾向有钱注册商标的、有全球法务团队的、有百年商誉积累的。说白了，倾向已经站在食物链顶端的那批玩家。

LV 在全球注册了上千件商标，法务团队几百号人，每年打几百场侵权诉讼。他们的核心策略就是"地毯式维权"——不管你在哪个国家、哪个行业、卖多少钱，只要碰了我的视觉符号，我就告你。

这不是评价对错，这是陈述事实：规则的设计和执行成本，决定了谁能在规则里活下来。

茉莉奶白 2021 年才开第一家店，六年开到 2400 家。它有法务团队吗？有。但和 LV 这种级别的对手打，根本不是一个量级。苏州中院那场官司，茉莉奶白全程被动挨打——人家的证据链是从商业调查、公证、取证到诉讼一条龙的工业化流程，你拿什么接？

规则表面上对所有人平等，但规则的执行成本不平等的瞬间，平等就是个幌子。

你一个年营收 40 亿的奶茶品牌都扛不住千万赔偿，那些个体户、小加盟商呢？他们连法官说的"商标性使用"是什么意思都不知道，就已经被一纸传票砸在脸上。

这不是在说 LV 做错了。品牌方有权维护自己的商标，这个没问题。我戳的是另一个东西——我们的规则体系在那头太重了，在这头太轻了。 重到可以让一个全球巨头拿传统纹样注册成私有财产，回头来收中国奶茶店的税。轻到一个本土企业申请商标被驳回后没有任何缓冲机制，只能赌对方不会动手——赌输了就是一条命。

三层皮：凭什么你拿我们的花纹，反过来告我们？

这才是这起案子最让老百姓不爽的地方，也是舆论场真正的火药桶。

网友翻出了 LV 老花 Monogram 的灵感来源。LV 官网自己说的很清楚——"源自家族宅邸的厨房瓷砖、新哥特艺术与和风纹饰的多元灵感。"

"和风纹饰"是什么？懂的人一看就明白，日本那些传统纹样，往上溯源，大部分来自中国的唐代。你翻开敦煌壁画、洛阳龙门石窟的藻井、苏州拙政园的花窗——四瓣对称的花卉纹样到处都是。那是中国从南北朝到唐宋上千年的公共审美遗产。宝相花，莲纹，芝叶海棠——都是老祖宗的东西。

LV 在 1896 年把这些东方纹样吸收了，重新设计，注册成了自己的商标。一百三十年后，拿着这个注册商标，回头来告一个用类似花纹的中国奶茶店——要它赔一千万。

这就是"文化挪用"的标准操作流程。

我不是在说 LV 的设计不原创。Monogram 确实是经过重新设计的，不是直接照搬宝相花。但如果追根溯源，它的 DNA 里有大量公共审美资源——而这些资源是全人类共有的，不是一个法国公司可以独占的。

问题在于，商标法不管这个。商标法只看你有没有注册，不看你的设计灵感从哪来的。你注册了就是你私有的，别人用了就是侵权。至于这个图案是不是本来就属于公共领域——法律不关心。

这就是规则的单向性：西方品牌拿走了东方的文化符号，用法律把它变成自己的，然后又用法律来阻止东方人使用它。

这不是阴谋论，这是现实操作。梵克雅宝的四叶幸运图案，香奈儿的山茶花——哪个不是从自然界或传统纹样里取经？但谁先注册了，谁就是"原创"。

四层根：跪久了，就真的站不起来了

上面拆了三层利益结构，但少拆了一个最根本的东西——心态。

"跪久了站不起来"这句话，在这次事件里被无数网友喊出来，不是因为大家统一了口径，而是因为所有人都感觉到了同一个病灶：一百多年的文化自卑，到今天还没洗掉。

从晚清到民国，从洋务运动到改革开放，中国人一直在两件事之间拉扯：一是"师夷长技"，二是"全盘西化"。前者是技术层面的追赶，后者是心理层面的跪倒。

最要命的是第二种。

你翻翻中国商业史——有多少本土品牌的早期策略是"看起来像某个国际大牌"？从服装到化妆品，从电子产品到餐饮连锁，"像不像洋牌子"一度是衡量一个品牌有没有档次的核心标准。这不是个别企业的选择，是整个商业审美系统被殖民的结果。

当"洋气"成了褒义词，你就已经输了。

这种心态渗透到商业、法律、大众认知的每一个层面。

在商业上，它表现为"蹭大牌"的路径依赖。茉莉奶白不是第一个这么干的，霸王茶姬"撞脸"DIOR 在先，茶颜悦色"致敬"方大同专辑封面在后。整个新茶饮赛道的视觉策略，长期在"像谁"而不是"是谁"上面下功夫。这不是巧合，这是审美崇洋的路径惯性——因为洋牌子的视觉语言已经被市场验证过了，照搬就是最低风险、最高效率。

在法律上，它表现为规则的"单边接轨"。中国的知识产权法大量移植西方体系，这本身没错——法律移植是后发国家的正常路径。但你仔细看执行层面：当 LV 拿一朵从东方传统里取经的花来告中国品牌的时候，我们的司法系统有没有主动审视过"跨类保护的保护边界在哪里"？有没有考虑过"公共审美资源被私有化后，本土产业的文化生存空间还剩多少"？

坦白说，没有。或者有，力度不够。

这不是在批评具体某个法官。这个案子在条文层面确实找不出硬伤。我戳的是更深层的东西——当你的法律体系只学会了执行规则，而没有学会质疑规则的合法性根基，那你就永远是在给别人当司法保安。

在认知层面，它表现为"外来的和尚会念经"的集体无意识。同样的图案，印在 LV 的包上就是"经典"，印在奶茶杯上就是"山寨"。凭什么？凭的是那个商标上的法语名和百年历史。而这种"崇洋"不是个别人跪，是整个社会的审美评价体系已经被西方品牌的话语权给覆盖了。

你可以骂 LV，可以同情茉莉奶白。但你问问自己：如果今天纹样的问题反过来——一个西方品牌用了东方图案被另一个东方品牌起诉——你的第一反应是不是"人家学的就是东方文化"？大概率是的。

这就是文化话语权被殖民的最终状态：你连质疑的框架都是别人的。

不解决这个层面的问题，就算茉莉奶白二审翻盘了，下一个"茉莉奶白"还会出现。不是具体某家店，而是整个本土产业在文化话语权争夺中的结构性劣势——只要审美评价的标准攥在别人手里，你的创意就永远是在"借鉴"和"抄袭"之间走钢丝。

五层术：规则是设计出来的，不是自然长出来的

上面说了文化心态的根。但光骂"跪久"不够，你得看懂——这盘棋，人家下了几十年，每一步都是设计好的。

"跪久站不起"从来不止是司法一端的问题。它是跨国奢侈品资本数十年系统性布局的结果，从立法、行政确权、司法判例三个层面，搭建起一套有利于自身的知识产权壁垒，持续驯化整个市场和裁判体系。

第一步：抢先掠夺全球公共文化符号，完成私有化确权。

LV、GUCCI、CELINE 这些品牌干的事，本质上是一样的——从中国、中东、东亚的传统纹样中提取视觉元素，稍加改良，抢先在各国注册商标。这不是偶尔的行为，是固定操作流程。

LV 早在 1986 年就把老花 Monogram 在中国注册了商标。1986 年！那时候中国本土的茶饮、餐饮品牌大部分还没出生。等到国风品牌崛起、想要使用本土传统纹样的时候，发现处处是地雷——中国传统纹样，已经被外国品牌注册完了，你碰就是侵权。

这套操作的公式很简单：汲取东方文明公共美学资源 → 完成商业私有化 → 再依托商标权反向收割原生文明的本土企业。

而中国企业这边呢？长期缺乏传统文化符号的商标防御布局意识。别说防御了，连"我们的花纹会被外国人注册"这个意识都没有。这不是某一家企业的疏忽，是整个产业的集体盲区——因为没有人教过你，你会被自己的文化反杀。

第二步：利用国际条约的"国民待遇"，制造双重标准的维权环境。

这是最骚的操作。

外资品牌在中国享受《商标法》赋予的完全国民待遇——自由注册，自由维权，自由收割。同一个图案，同一个 LV 老花，在欧盟、美国、日本的法院，是什么待遇？

人家那边法院普遍限制奢侈品牌对传统通用装饰纹样的独占权。公共审美资源、传统装饰元素——这些在西方司法体系里是有公共领域这层保护的，法院不会轻易给你无限跨类保护。欧盟法院、美国法院、日本法院，都拒绝过类似的"把公共纹样私有化"的诉求。

但到了中国，就完全不是一回事。

同样一朵花，在巴黎法院是"公共审美元素"，在苏州法院就是"驰名商标跨类保护"。

这个问题出在哪里？出在我们的司法体系在知识产权保护上，接轨接得太"热情"。引进国际规则的时候，只学了"怎么保护"，没学"在哪里划界"。外资在本国要遵守公共文化边界，进入中国却能享受无限制的商标特权——这种内外双标的维权逻辑，让所有人都看得见规则的不对等。

这不是个别法官的问题，是整个裁判体系在"跨类保护"的边界上缺乏本土化的审视框架。

第三步：法务维权商业化，将知识产权变成收割国货的收割机。

头部奢侈品集团的法务团队，现在不是"维权部门"，是利润中心。

批量检索国内中小品牌的视觉标识，批量发起商标诉讼，高额的赔偿金和和解金已经成为稳定的盈利补充。LV 光在中国就打过两千多场商标诉讼，你以为那是"维护品牌尊严"？更准确地说，那是他们的生意。

知识产权制度设立初衷是什么？鼓励创新，保护原创，维护公平竞争。

但现在被异化成什么？成了外资巨头打压本土国风品牌的工具。

当司法持续为这套商业化维权模式背书，公众会问一个谁都不敢明着问的问题：我们引进知识产权制度，到底是为了保护本土创新、传承传统文化，还是为了给外国资本收割本土企业提供法律武器？

这个问题的答案，决定了一切。

五层网织成的最终结果：向外妥协，向内严苛。

外资可以拿走你的文化符号，注册成自己的商标，你不能用。本国企业用了，跨海诉讼，千万赔偿。这种不对等，不是在条文层面写出来的，是通过几十年的立法节奏、确权习惯、判例堆叠，一点一点捏出来的。

你不服？你在人家的规则里玩，就只能在人家的笼子里转。

而真正的解法，从来不是"抵制 LV"这种情绪口号。是在这个体系里，建立起属于你自己的规则权重。 在法律框架内，找到保护本土文化空间的切口。在司法裁判中，确立"公共审美资源不是资本垄断品"的原则。在企业层面，真正把传统文化符号的商标防御布局当成战略级任务来做。

做不到这些，下一朵"花"，还是会赔一千万。

第四条线：茉莉奶白的蠢和坏

话分两头说。茉莉奶白挨了这刀，也怪不得别人。

创始人张伯丞喊冤的时候，应该先问问自己的团队：2024 年商标被驳回之后，谁做的决定——继续用？

这不是"不小心撞车"的问题。被驳回意味着国家知识产权局已经明确告诉你：这个图案和 LV 的近似，不能注册。你还继续全国铺开来用，2400 家门店，一个不落。

这叫什么事情？这叫赌博。

你在赌 LV 不会注意到你。你在赌 LV 不会起诉你。你在赌就算起诉了，也可能不了了之。你赌了一年多，赌来了 1030 万的判决书。

这种心态在当下中国商业环境里太常见了——"先干了再说，被抓了再改"。这种侥幸心理，在野蛮生长时期可能是性价比策略，但在规则逐渐收紧的时候，就是给自己埋定时炸弹。

我不同情茉莉奶白。但我觉得这个 1030 万的价格标签，有一部分是替整个行业的通病在买单。一个新茶饮品牌，六年冲到 2400 家店，利润本来就不高——你问问它有没有花过 10 万块做知识产权合规审计？大概率没有。

这不是某一家的问题，是这个赛道跑得太快，合规完全跟不上。

所以这件事到底在吵什么？

表面上是商标侵权。中间层是规则公平。底层是文化主权。

民众不是不懂法。他们在意的不是"茉莉奶白该不该赔钱"，而是**"凭什么你 LV 可以用一朵花垄断一个视觉符号"**——尤其这朵花的根还不在法国，在东方。

所有人的愤怒，都可以拆成四个字：两套标准。

你 LV 的花，从东方传统里取经，没人告你，你成了"经典"。中国奶茶店用类似的花，你跨国过来索赔一千万，人家成了"侵权"。

你从全世界公共审美资源里挖素材的时候，没有人问你"这朵花是你原创的吗"。但你注册完了，就可以对所有后来者说"这朵花是我的"。

这就是规则制定者的特权。谁先制定了规则，谁就定义了什么是"原创"、什么是"侵权"。

我不是在喊"抵制 LV"。那是民粹口号，不是分析。我是在说：一个国家的法律体系如果只是一味地与国际接轨，而不思考这个"轨"是谁铺的、铺向谁的利益，那它就是被殖民的。

不是结论

我写这篇文章，不是为了替茉莉奶白翻案。它的操作确实粗糙，该承担代价。

但我写这篇文章，是为了说清楚一件事：规则的公平性，取决于谁有资格参与制定规则。

如果你的司法体系只懂得亦步亦趋地执行国际标准，如果你的知识产权保护只服务于先发者的既得利益，如果你的法官在裁量时看不到"公共审美资源被私有化"这个维度——那你永远都是在替别人的规则站台。

1000 万的赔偿金，LV 拿到了。但真正的输赢，不在判决书上，在规则话语权的争夺里。

司法者手中的裁量权，不是在法条和法条之间做选择题，而是要在"保护创新"和"防止垄断"之间、在"接轨国际"和"守住本土"之间，找到那条站得直的线。

这条线找不好，下一个茉莉奶白不会少。而且下一次，可能就不是花的问题了。

A Flower Cost 10 Million: Who's Really Taking the Stand?

LV vs. Jasmine Naicha — A Mirror for an Era's Dysfunctions

LV won against Jasmine Naicha. The first-instance verdict: 10.3 million yuan in damages. Reason: the tea brand's four-petal flower logo looked too much like LV's iconic Monogram.

The verdict hit Weibo's top trending. Hundreds of millions of reads. And the public reaction was telling — not a simple chorus of "they deserved it," but something more complicated. Most people's first thought: It's just a flower. Why can LV use it but a Chinese tea shop can't?

That reaction is worth more analysis than the judgment itself.

Layer 1 — The Legal Skin: A Fair Call Under the Rules

Let's get the facts straight. By the book, the ruling has legal basis.

LV registered its four-petal flower trademark in China back in 1985. Classes 18 (luggage) and 25 (clothing). It's recognized as a "well-known mark," which comes with cross-class protection — meaning you don't have to be in the same industry for infringement to apply if consumer confusion is likely.

Jasmine Naicha made a fatal rookie mistake: In 2024, they applied for a similar four-petal flower trademark. The China National Intellectual Property Administration rejected it — citing LV's existing registration as prior art. They were explicitly told this flower was a problem.

And they used it anyway. Across 2,400+ stores nationwide.

That's "knowing infringement" — the heaviest aggravating factor in trademark law. The court calculated damages based on Jasmine Naicha's 2025 revenue (~4 billion yuan) with roughly 35% of products carrying the contested design. The math produced 10 million in damages plus 300,000 in legal costs.

Legally, nothing outrageous.

Most lawyers agree the appeal has slim odds. The real fight will be over the damage amount.

Done with the legal analysis. Now for the interesting part.

Layer 2 — Rules Aren't Neutral. Who Wrote Them?

First question: Cross-class protection for well-known marks — who does it actually protect?

The rule sounds noble — combat malicious counterfeiting, protect brand goodwill. But in practice, who can afford to play this game? The companies with thousands of registered trademarks, global legal teams, and centuries of accumulated brand equity. The ones already at the top of the food chain.

LV has registered over a thousand trademarks in China alone. Hundreds of lawyers on payroll. They run侵权 lawsuits as an industrial process — investigation, notarization, evidence collection, litigation, all standardized.

This isn't good or bad. It's a structural fact: The cost of playing by the rules determines who survives under them.

Jasmine Naicha opened its first store in 2021. Six years later, 2,400 stores. Do they have a legal team? Sure. Is it equipped to go toe-to-toe with LVMH's machine? Not even close. From the moment LV filed in Suzhou (a strategic choice — Suzhou IP court is known for strict cross-class enforcement), Jasmine Naicha was playing defense on alien turf.

Rules that are equal on paper become unequal the moment their enforcement costs diverge.

If a 4-billion-yuan brand can barely absorb a 10-million penalty, what hope does a street vendor have? They don't even know what "trademark use" means in legal terms. But the summons finds them anyway.

I'm not saying LV did anything wrong. Brands have the right to protect their marks. I'm pointing at something else: Our rule system is too heavy on one end and too light on the other. Heavy enough to let a global giant turn traditional motifs into private property and tax a local tea shop. Light enough that a domestic company, after getting its trademark application rejected, has no buffer mechanism — it can only gamble that the big guy won't notice. Lose that gamble, and it costs 10 million.

Layer 3 — Why Are You Taking Our Patterns and Suing Us Over Them?

This is the real powder keg. The reason the public isn't buying LV's narrative.

Netizens dug into the origins of LV's Monogram. LV's own website says it: "'Inspired by the kitchen tiles of the family mansion in Asnières, neo-Gothic art, and Japanese-inspired motifs."

And where did those Japanese motifs come from? Anyone who knows visual history can trace them: direct derivatives of Tang Dynasty Chinese patterns. The four-petal floral rosettes in Dunhuang murals. The lotus motifs on Longmen Grottoes' ceilings. The window lattice patterns in Suzhou gardens. China had these patterns — symmetrical, four-petal, botanical — for over a thousand years, from the Northern and Southern Dynasties through Tang and Song.

In 1896, LV absorbed these Eastern motifs, redesigned them, and trademarked them. Now, 130 years later, they use that trademark to sue a Chinese tea brand using a similar flower — and demand 10 million yuan.

That's the textbook arc of cultural appropriation.

I'm not saying LV's Monogram isn't original. It was redesigned, not copy-pasted. But if you trace the DNA, it draws heavily from global public aesthetic resources — resources that belong to everyone, that no single company should monopolize.

The problem: trademark law doesn't care about any of this. It only asks: Was it registered? Yes. Was it used without authorization? Yes. Infringement. The law has no mechanism to ask: Did this design originate in the public domain?

This is the unidirectionality of rules: Western brands take Eastern cultural symbols, legalize them as private property, then use law to prevent Easterners from using them.

This isn't conspiracy theory. It's how the system operates. Van Cleef's four-leaf clover. Chanel's camellia. Every luxury brand pulls from nature and traditional ornamentation. But whoever registers first becomes the "original."

Layer — The Root: Kneeling Too Long to Stand Again

Three layers of structural analysis done. But one root cause remains unpacked: mentality.

The phrase "kneeling too long to stand again" — 跪久了站不起来 — was thrown around by countless netizens during this controversy. Not because they coordinated a talking point, but because they all felt the same wound: a century of cultural inferiority complex that still hasn't been washed out.

From the late Qing to the Republic era, from the Self-Strengthening Movement to Reform and Opening Up, China has been pulled between two impulses: "learn from the West's technology" and "wholesale Westernization." The first is strategic catch-up. The second is psychological surrender.

The second one is the killer.

Flip through Chinese business history — how many domestic brands started with the strategy of "looking like an international brand"? From apparel to cosmetics, from electronics to restaurant chains, "does it look foreign" was once the primary measure of whether a brand had class. This wasn't individual companies making choices. It was an entire commercial aesthetic system being colonized.

The moment "foreign-looking" became a compliment, you'd already lost.

This mentality permeates every layer: commerce, law, and mass cognition.

In commerce, it manifests as a path dependency on "leeching off big foreign brands." Jasmine Naicha isn't the first. Teayanlong hit DIOR's visual language. SexyTea was accused of copying an album cover. The entire new-tea sector's visual strategy has long been about "who does this look like" rather than "who is this." Not a coincidence. It's aesthetic submission by inertia — foreign brands' visual language has been market-validated, so copying it is the lowest-risk, highest-efficiency path.

In law, it manifests as one-way alignment. China's IP law heavily transplants Western frameworks — fine, legal transplantation is normal for developing countries. But look at the enforcement layer: When LV sues a Chinese brand over a flower whose roots trace back to Eastern ornamentation, does our judiciary proactively examine "where does cross-class protection stop?" Does it ask "after public aesthetic resources are privatized, how much cultural breathing room is left for domestic industries?"

Honestly? No. Or not enough.

This isn't a criticism of any specific judge. The ruling is defensible on a technical level. What I'm pointing at is deeper: When your legal system learns to execute rules but not to question the legitimacy foundation of those rules, you'll always be someone else's judicial security guard.

In mass cognition, it manifests as a collective unconscious: "the foreign monk's sutra chants better." The same flower pattern — printed on an LV bag, it's "iconic." Printed on a tea cup, it's "counterfeit." Why? Because the trademark carries a French name and a century of history. And this isn't a few people kneeling. It's an entire society's aesthetic evaluation framework being colonized by Western brand discourse.

You can rage at LV. You can feel for Jasmine Naicha. But ask yourself: If the roles were reversed — a Western brand uses an Eastern pattern and gets sued by an Eastern brand — wouldn't your first reaction be "they were drawing from Eastern culture"? Most likely yes.

That's the final state of cultural discourse colonization: the framework you use to question is itself someone else's.

Until this root is addressed, even if Jasmine Naicha wins on appeal, the next "Jasmine Naicha" will appear. Not a specific store. A structural disadvantage in the fight for cultural discourse — as long as the standard of aesthetic judgment is held in someone else's hands, your creativity will always walk the tightrope between "reference" and "theft."

Layer — The Architecture: Rules Are Designed, Not Grown

The cultural mindset is one half of the story. The other half is colder, more deliberate: This board was set decades ago, and every move was calculated.

"Kneeling too long" isn't just a judicial problem. It's the result of a decades-long, systematic campaign by multinational luxury capital — operating across three fronts: legislation, administrative trademark confirmation, and judicial precedent — to build an IP fortress that serves their interests while bending the entire market and adjudication system to their will.

Step One: Loot global public cultural symbols. Privatize them first.

What LV, GUCCI, CELINE all do is structurally identical: extract visual elements from Chinese, Middle Eastern, and Eastern traditional ornamentation, lightly modify them, and register them as trademarks in every market before anyone else can.

LV registered its Monogram in China in 1986. 1986. Most Chinese tea and F&B brands didn't even exist yet. By the time China-centric brands rose and wanted to use their own traditional patterns, they found every path mined — those patterns had already been registered by foreign brands. Touch them, and it's infringement.

The formula is simple: Extract from Eastern civilization's public aesthetic resources → Privatize through commercial trademark registration → Use the resulting IP rights to harvest the native civilization's own enterprises.

And on the Chinese side? Near-zero awareness of defensive trademark strategy for traditional cultural symbols. Not even the awareness that "our patterns could be registered by foreigners." This is not one company's oversight. It's an entire industry's blind spot — because nobody ever taught you that your own culture could be weaponized against you.

Step Two: Exploit "national treatment" under international treaties to create a double-standard enforcement environment.

This is the masterpiece move.

Foreign brands enjoy full national treatment under China's Trademark Law — free to register, free to enforce, free to harvest. The same pattern, the same LV Monogram — what happens to it in EU, US, or Japanese courts?

Those courts generally restrict luxury brands' monopoly over traditional ornamental patterns. Public aesthetic resources, traditional decorative elements — these have public domain protections in Western judicial systems. Courts don't casually grant unlimited cross-class protection. EU courts, US courts, Japanese courts — all have rejected similar attempts to privatize public ornamental motifs.

But in China? Entirely different story.

The same flower is "public aesthetic element" in a Paris court and "well-known mark cross-class protection" in a Suzhou court.

Where's the problem? It's in the enthusiasm with which China's judiciary embraced IP protection alignment. When importing international rules, we learned "how to protect" but not "where to draw the boundary." Foreign capital must respect public cultural boundaries in its home jurisdictions, but enjoys limitless trademark privilege in China. This double standard is visible to everyone.

This isn't about individual judges. It's about an entire adjudication system lacking a localized framework for where cross-class protection stops.

Step Three: Commercialize IP enforcement — turn intellectual property into a harvesting machine for domestic brands.

The legal departments of top luxury groups are no longer "brand protection units." They're profit centers.

They batch-search domestic SMEs for visual identifiers. They file trademark suits in volume. The settlements and damages have become a stable revenue stream. LV alone has fought over 2,000 trademark cases in China. Think that's about "protecting brand dignity"? More accurately, it's their business model.

What was the original purpose of IP law? Encourage innovation. Protect originality. Maintain fair competition.

What has it become? A tool for multinational capital to crush domestic brands that try to use their own cultural heritage.

When the judiciary consistently endorses this commercial enforcement model, the public starts asking a question nobody dares to ask out loud: Did we import IP law to protect domestic innovation and cultural heritage — or to provide legal cover for foreign capital to harvest local enterprises?

The answer determines everything.

The Final Output: Accommodate outward, crack down inward.

Foreign capital can take your cultural symbols, trademark them, and prohibit you from using them. A domestic company uses them — transoceanic lawsuit, millions in damages. This asymmetry wasn't written into any single clause. It was shaped over decades — through legislative pacing, administrative habits, and accumulated precedents. Particle by particle.

You don't like it? You're playing in their rulebook, inside their cage.

The real solution isn't "boycott LV" — that's an emotional slogan. It's: Build your own rule weight inside this system. Find the legal cracks to protect domestic cultural space. Establish in judicial practice the principle that "public aesthetic resources are not capital monopolies." At the enterprise level, treat defensive trademark strategy for traditional cultural symbols as a strategic priority.

Fail to do this, and the next "flower" will cost another 10 million.

Layer 4 — Jasmine Naicha's Stupidity and Guile

Credit where it's due: Jasmine Naicha walked right into this.

When founder Zhang Bocheng cries foul, he should ask his team one question: After the trademark was rejected in 2024, who made the call to keep using it?

This wasn't "accidental similarity." The CNIPA had already told them: This pattern resembles LV's. It cannot be registered. They kept rolling it out across the country anyway — 2,400 stores, all using the contested design.

What was that? A bet.

A bet that LV wouldn't notice. A bet that LV wouldn't sue. A bet that even if sued, it might fizzle out. They bet for over a year — and lost 10.3 million.

This mentality is epidemic in Chinese business culture: "Do it first, fix it later if caught." In the wild-growth era, that was a viable strategy. As regulation tightens, it's a time bomb.

I don't sympathize with Jasmine Naicha. But I'd argue that 10.3 million price tag partly reflects an industry-wide sickness. A new tea brand scaling to 2,400 stores in six years on thin margins — how many of them spent even 100,000 yuan on IP compliance audits? Almost none.

That's not one company's problem. It's a structural one: the race is too fast for compliance to catch up.

So What Is This Really About?

Surface layer: trademark infringement. Middle layer: rule fairness. Bottom layer: cultural sovereignty.

The public isn't ignorant of the law. What burns them isn't "should Jasmine Naicha pay or not." It's: Why can LV monopolize a visual symbol that's basically a flower — especially when that flower's roots aren't in France, but in the East?

Everyone's anger reduces to two words: Double standards.

When LV takes from Eastern visual traditions, nobody sues them. It becomes "iconic." When a Chinese brand uses something similar, they're hit with a cross-border lawsuit and a 10-million penalty. That's "infringement."

When you mine global public aesthetic resources, nobody asks "did you create that flower?" But once you register it, you can tell everyone else: "this flower is mine."

That's the privilege of rule-making: Whoever writes the rules gets to define what's "original" and what's "infringement."

I'm not calling for an LV boycott. That's populism, not analysis. What I'm saying is: A legal system that reflexively aligns with international standards without asking who built those standards and whose interests they serve — that system is still colonized.

Not a Conclusion

I didn't write this to rehabilitate Jasmine Naicha. Their operation was crude. They deserve consequences.

I wrote this to articulate one thing clearly: The fairness of rules depends on who gets to participate in making them.

If your judiciary only knows how to apply international standards mechanically; if your IP regime serves only the vested interests of first-movers; if your judges can't see the dimension of "public aesthetic resources being privatized" — then you're always going to be standing guard for someone else's system.

LV got its 10 million. But the real win or loss isn't in the judgment. It's in the fight over who gets to define the rules.

The discretion that judges hold isn't about choosing between one law and another. It's about finding the line that holds — between protecting innovation and preventing monopoly, between international alignment and local sovereignty.

Fail to find that line, and Jasmine Naicha won't be the last. And next time, it might not be about a flower.