南京富二代殺妻案：一句嘲諷引發的62刀血案——吉星鵬殺妻案全紀錄，畸形自尊下的家庭悲劇

這是一場原本被外界視為「門當戶對、郎才女貌」的婚姻，卻最終以血腥殺戮告終。主角吉星鵬，是南京某建材企業主的獨子，標準的「富二代」；而他所殺的，是自己的妻子——年僅22歲、畢業於北京邮电大学世纪学院的祁可欣。

兩人於2010年相識，2012年結婚，婚後育有一女。社交媒體上，他們經常秀出豪車、名錶與親密照片，外界眼中他們是恩愛夫妻，但實際上，婚姻內部早已暗流湧動。吉星鵬外貌平平，自尊心極強，長期懷疑妻子不忠，更在婚後多次施暴，對祁可欣進行肢體虐待與精神控制，甚至常檢查她的手機，限制她的社交行為。

2013年4月24日，悲劇的導火索悄然點燃。當天晚上，吉星鵬與朋友聚餐時，友人無意間開個玩笑：「你女兒真漂亮，一點都不像你這麼醜。」這句話深深刺痛吉星鵬的自尊，他將其解讀為「女兒不是親生的」暗示，心中怒火難抑。回到家後，他當場質問妻子，兩人爆發激烈爭吵。4月25日凌晨，吉星鵬持廚房菜刀與水果刀將祁可欣逼至臥室，當著在場的父母面前連砍62刀，幾乎將祁可欣肢解致死。她的頭部、頸部與手臂遍佈致命傷口，當場身亡。案發後，吉星鵬冷靜報警，對警方說：「我殺了我老婆。」

警察到場時，臥室牆面滿是血跡，祁可欣遺體面目全非。剛滿百日大的女兒雖身處隔壁房間，僥倖未目睹行兇過程，卻也從此失去母親。案件調查中，警方對女兒進行DNA鑑定，最終確認吉星鵬為其生父，朋友的玩笑並無根據。而這場誤解，卻已釀成無法挽回的悲劇。吉星鵬極端的自尊與強烈的控制欲被認為是導致血案的根本原因。他從小在優渥家庭中長大，卻始終對自己的外貌感到自卑，對「被戴綠帽」的想像特別敏感，在婚姻中逐漸演變成病態的猜忌與暴力。

案件於2014年進入一審程序，南京市中級人民法院以故意殺人罪判處吉星鵬死刑。祁可欣的父母在庭上失聲痛哭，怒斥這是「有預謀的虐殺」。然而，2017年二審結果引發更大爭議：江蘇省高級人民法院改判吉星鵬死刑緩期二年執行，理由是其有自首情節，且向被害人家屬賠償百萬元（實際僅支付部分）。之後因為他在獄中傷人5次，法院可能撤銷其死緩，直接執行死刑。

社會輿論譁然，許多網友質疑：「如果他不是富二代，結果還會這樣嗎？」更有法律界人士表示，自首並不能抹去極端暴力行為的惡性，尤其是如此殘忍的犯罪。這一改判，也讓人對司法是否對權勢有偏袒產生疑慮。吉星鵬入獄後並未悔改，2020年因在監獄內參與鬥毆被加刑，2023年申請減刑時遭駁回，目前仍在服刑。祁可欣的父母則獨自撫養外孫女長大，生活清苦。女孩至今不知母親死因，只被告知「媽媽車禍去世」。

此案不僅是一樁家庭悲劇，更引發社會對家暴防治的深刻反思。祁可欣曾在婚內多次報警，但警方以「家庭糾紛」處理，未真正介入保護她的安全。這起事件也被視為推動中國於2016年頒布《反家庭暴力法》的背景案例之一。南方周末曾評論道，這是一場本可避免的悲劇。它揭露制度對女性保護的不足、法律執行的模糊地帶，以及權勢與金錢可能左右審判的現實殘酷。最終，62刀不僅奪走一條年輕生命，也刺穿公眾對婚姻、司法與社會正義的信任。正如一位網友寫道：「這不是激情殺人，是自尊病態扭曲後的控制與摧毀。」

至今，吉星鵬案仍是南京城的一道傷疤，也是一則警示：當暴力被忽視、當權勢可干預正義，每個人都有可能成為下一個受害者。暴力從來不是解決問題的方法，而法律與社會的溫度，應該在悲劇發生之前就介入。

The Nanjing "Rich Second-Generation" Wife Murder Case: A Bloodbath Triggered by a Joke

— The Full Story of Ji Xingpeng’s Crime, a Family Tragedy Born from Twisted Pride

What was once seen as a picture-perfect marriage between a wealthy young man and a beautiful woman ultimately ended in a horrifying bloodbath. Ji Xingpeng, the only son of a successful building materials businessman in Nanjing—a typical “rich second-generation” (富二代)—brutally murdered his wife, Qi Kexin, a 22-year-old graduate of Beijing University of Posts and Telecommunications Century College.

The couple met in 2010 and married in 2012. They had a daughter soon after. On social media, they frequently showcased their luxury cars, expensive watches, and intimate photos, appearing to the outside world as a loving and enviable couple. In reality, however, their marriage was riddled with tension. Ji, who was average in appearance and highly sensitive about his looks, had an overwhelming sense of pride and a deep fear of being betrayed. He became increasingly controlling and abusive—physically and psychologically. He often assaulted Qi, checked her phone, and restricted her social activities.

The tragedy unfolded on April 24, 2013. That evening, during a dinner with friends, someone casually joked, “Your daughter is so pretty, she doesn’t look like you at all.” The remark pierced Ji’s fragile ego. He interpreted it as a hint that his daughter might not be biologically his. Enraged, he returned home and confronted Qi, which quickly escalated into a heated argument.

In the early hours of April 25, Ji grabbed a kitchen knife and a fruit knife and forced Qi into the bedroom. In front of his own parents, he stabbed her 62 times, almost dismembering her. Her head, neck, and arms were covered with fatal wounds. She died on the spot. Ji then calmly called the police and said, “I killed my wife.”

When the police arrived, the bedroom walls were splattered with blood, and Qi’s body was unrecognizable. Their infant daughter, barely 100 days old, was in the next room. Though she did not witness the murder, she would grow up without a mother.

A police investigation confirmed through DNA testing that Ji was indeed the girl’s biological father—the friend’s comment had no basis. But the misunderstanding had already led to an irreversible tragedy. Ji’s extreme pride, deep insecurity about his appearance, and pathological possessiveness were cited as core reasons behind the crime. Growing up in a wealthy household, he had developed an inferiority complex about his looks, which evolved into a dangerous obsession with the fear of being cuckolded.

In 2014, Ji was tried in Nanjing Intermediate People’s Court and sentenced to death for intentional homicide. Qi’s parents broke down in court, accusing Ji of premeditated and brutal murder. However, in 2017, the Jiangsu High People’s Court controversially commuted his sentence to death with a two-year reprieve, citing Ji’s confession and a compensation of one million RMB to Qi’s family (though only part of it was actually paid). Later, due to Ji's involvement in five violent incidents in prison, the court considered revoking the reprieve and enforcing the death sentence.

The commutation sparked outrage online. Many questioned, “Would the outcome be the same if he weren’t a rich second-generation?” Legal scholars also debated whether a confession should outweigh the heinous nature of such a brutal crime. The case reignited public skepticism toward judicial impartiality and whether wealth and influence could bend justice.

Ji showed little remorse during his incarceration. In 2020, he was penalized for participating in a prison brawl. In 2023, his request for sentence reduction was denied. He remains behind bars to this day. Qi’s parents now raise their granddaughter alone, living in hardship. The child still doesn’t know the truth—she has only been told that her mother died in a car accident.

More than a domestic tragedy, the case forced China to confront serious shortcomings in its response to domestic violence. Qi had reportedly called the police multiple times during their marriage, but her pleas were dismissed as mere “family disputes.” The case is now often cited as a catalyst for China’s 2016 Anti-Domestic Violence Law.

Southern Weekly once described the case as a “tragedy that could have been avoided.” It exposed the system’s failure to protect women, the blurred lines in legal enforcement, and the disturbing possibility that power and wealth might influence verdicts. Those 62 stab wounds not only took a young woman’s life but also shattered public trust in marriage, justice, and humanity. As one netizen wrote: “This wasn’t a crime of passion—it was the product of a twisted, pathological need for control disguised as wounded pride.”

Today, Ji Xingpeng’s case remains a painful scar on the city of Nanjing—and a dire warning. When violence is ignored, and when power can undermine justice, anyone could become the next victim. Violence is never the answer. Intervention from the law and society must come before tragedy strikes.