Xiaomi had clearly poured its heart into this phone, shaping it into an all-rounder that felt polished in every corner. Performance sat on top thanks to the Snapdragon 900, and the rest of the spec sheet left little room for complaints. Even Heifeng, watching from Huaxing Technology's office, had to admit that Xiaomi's knack for integrating resources had reached a new level. If the Mi 5 were already this complete, its upgraded sibling, the Mi 5 Pro, would naturally push further.
The Pro did not rewrite the formula so much as refine it on paper. The chassis and overall look stayed essentially the same, right down to the tidy "Pro" mark on the back, but the screen-to-body ratio crept higher, so the display felt more immersive in hand. The panel switched to OLED, giving richer blacks and punchier colors than the Mi 5's screen. Charging and endurance received their own bump: 5V4A 20 W fast charging paired with a 3,280 mAh battery, promising to stretch a busy day further. The cameras also leveled up, with the rear primary sensor moving to 40 MP and the front portrait camera jumping from 18 MP to 21 MP. None of these were radical, isolated changes, yet they made the Pro the more convincing flagship attempt.
If the Mi 5 could be called a "near-flagship," the Pro was Xiaomi's first real swing this year at high-end buyers. Heifeng scanned the live feed and couldn't help murmuring to himself that Lei Jun's ambitions were anything but small. The configuration, taken as a whole, might be the most complete among domestic phones. That set the stage for the moment everyone cared about most.
Lei Jun wrapped the product overview and moved to pricing after teasing a Mi 5S variant for later. The hall reacted before he could press the clicker. From the seats came a rhythmic chant: "¥1,999! ¥1,999!" It was half nostalgia and half wishful thinking. For years, that number had meant the impossible bargain that made Xiaomi famous. Lei Jun paused with a wry smile and answered honestly that ¥1,999 would be chaos now. Costs had climbed across the industry because manufacturers kept stuffing the newest, priciest parts into their latest phones. Xiaomi was no exception. If they wanted to compete upmarket, clinging to the old magic number would only trap them in the "cheap equals inferior" box.
He let the room settle, then raised his hand toward the big screen. Three prices flashed for the Mi 5:
3 GB + 32 GB: ¥2,499 (about $360)
3 GB + 64 GB: ¥2,899 (about $415)
3 GB + 128 GB: ¥3,299 (about $470)
There was a ripple, not applause. The step beyond ¥1,999 felt like a line crossed, a signal that the digital series had permanently moved on. Lei Jun did not flinch. He knew the next numbers would land even heavier. He clicked again, and the Mi 5 Pro prices appeared:
3 GB + 32 GB: ¥2,999 (about $430)
3 GB + 64 GB: ¥3,499 (about $500)
3 GB + 128 GB: ¥3,999 (about $570)
Silence stretched. For the first time, a top Mi Pro configuration brushed ¥4,000 by historical Xiaomi standards, which was the ceiling. Lei Jun steadied the room with the line he trusted most: Xiaomi still pursued value, and company-wide comprehensive profit margins would not exceed 5 percent. Research and development had cost real money this cycle. Materials had risen. But the commitment to thin margins remained. The message was simple: higher prices did not mean profiteering; they meant higher costs and a higher target.
Back at Huaxing, Heifeng watched without surprise. The bill of materials on this generation ran hot, and the company had to test whether fans would follow it into the high end. In his view, Xiaomi was burning the boats. If they did not change perception now, the word "value" would harden into "cheap," and no amount of specs on future models would erase that stigma. Better to fight early, even if it stung, than to let the brand image calcify until the move upmarket became impossible.
From a product standpoint, the case was straightforward. An OLED display solved color and contrast complaints, 20 W charging plus 3,280 mAh addressed day-long use, and the 40 MP rear sensor answered the constant drumbeat that domestic phones lagged in imaging. The chip remained the Snapdragon 900, which was the right call. It kept performance consistent between the two models and made the Pro's pitch about experience rather than raw speed. And the subtle visual change a slightly fuller face, a proud "Pro" script on the back signaled status without alienating buyers who loved the Mi 5's clean lines.
The more challenging part was psychological. The audience's reflex to chant "¥1,999" showed how powerful pricing memory can be. People did not merely remember deals; they built identity around them. Xiaomi's promise of no more than 5 percent comprehensive profit margin tried to soothe that memory, to say "we are still us," even as the numbers demanded a new frame. In that sense, the price cards served two masters: stabilizing the faithful with a transparent margin message, and inviting a new crowd to consider a Mi that no longer apologized for wanting a seat at the flagship table.
Heifeng's take was that this was the right gamble. In consumer tech, brands are stories first and hardware second. Once a story about "cheap but good" ossifies, it becomes a ceiling. By nudging the Mi 5 to ¥2,499 and the Pro up to as high as ¥3,999 (about $570), Xiaomi forced the market to judge it by feel, screen, camera, and finish rather than a talismanic number. If the experience matched the pitch if the OLED truly popped, if the 40 MP primary camera held detail without smearing, if the battery plus fast charge erased range anxiety then the new prices would stop looking bold and start looking normal.
Onstage, Lei Jun read the room like a veteran. He did not push for cheers. He let the specs speak, then anchored the value claim with the 5 percent margin pledge. He allowed the audience to absorb that the Mi digital line had exited its old bracket for good. No drama, no apology. Just a clear signpost that the company's path pointed higher from here.
When the feed ended, Heifeng leaned back from the monitor. He thought this was not a surprise, and it was not a bluff either. It was a necessary correction. Buyers would adjust if Xiaomi kept pressing the high end with products that felt like a flagship in the hand, not only on slides. And if they faltered, the old chant would return, louder than ever. Either way, the choice to move today, before perceptions became immovable, was their only real option.