When Xiaomi unveiled the SU7 Ultra it promised a breakthrough: a homegrown electric super-sedan that would rewrite expectations of Chinese automakers. The car arrived with headline-grabbing specifications — peak power figures in the mid-thousands of horsepower and a 0–100 km/h time under two seconds — and with them came a narrative that Xiaomi could marry Silicon Valley-grade software ambition to European-grade automotive craft.
The product launch was followed by an equally aggressive commercial push. Xiaomi assembled a specialist sales force, the “Ultra Master” team, recruiting personnel with luxury-car pedigrees and even race-track licences. Pay was generous by Chinese auto-retail standards — up to RMB 30,000 per month — and early volume was strong: after the SU7 Ultra went on sale in February 2025, cumulative deliveries surpassed 14,000 units by August, overshooting the company’s original 10,000-unit annual aspiration and quickly elevating Xiaomi’s profile in the high end of the EV market.
But the momentum was short-lived. From September 2025 monthly sales collapsed, and by December the SU7 Ultra was moving only a few dozen units per month. Internal changes followed: access to SU7 Ultra stock was opened beyond the dedicated Ultra sales corps and many of the specialist sellers left or were redeployed. The vehicle that was supposed to cement Xiaomi’s premium credentials had become a liability to the very team built to sell it.
A string of product and customer-experience missteps accelerated the decline. A software update introduced a track-based unlocking mechanism that restricted the car’s maximum power unless owners met an official lap time, a change that blindsided several buyers who expected unfettered performance. Controversies flared over the function and marketing of optional carbon-fibre bonnet fittings, and a high-profile crash raised questions about the design of electronic door locks and concealed handles. Small details also mattered: owners accustomed to luxury-brand rituals — bespoke gifts and curated delivery experiences — felt shortchanged by Xiaomi’s more mass-market handover approach.
Reputational damage in performance-car communities is sticky. Enthusiasts and early adopters are influential opinion leaders for hyper-performance models; once trust erodes, orders dry up fast. Although Xiaomi still promotes the SU7 Ultra in ways that signal its continued strategic value — including placing the car in top-tier racing videogame GT7 and corporate executives publicly defending the model — the vehicle’s trajectory illustrates the hazards of translating consumer-tech playbooks into premium automotive markets.
The SU7 Ultra episode matters beyond one model’s sales chart. It spotlights the operational and cultural gulf between selling smartphones and selling ultra-high-end cars: the latter demands meticulous after-sales care, bespoke client management and faultless communication about safety and capability. For Xiaomi, the lesson is clear: technological bravura can buy headlines, but premiumisation is sustained by service, trust and credibility among discerning buyers. The company still controls a valuable technology narrative and the SU7 Ultra remains an engineering showcase, but restoring the product’s standing will require more than software patches and PR — it will need sustained, customer-centred remediation and a rethink of how Xiaomi balances halo products with volume volumes.
For the broader automotive industry the fall of a high-profile Chinese halo car is a cautionary tale. It underscores that national pride and engineering milestones — even Nürburgring lap records — are insufficient to unseat established luxury incumbents unless they are accompanied by the soft infrastructure of premium retailing: trained specialists, bespoke service, and community trust. Xiaomi’s future moves will be watched closely as a test of whether a tech giant can learn to sell luxury on a luxury’s terms.