NYT Exclusive: Inside Billionaire Changpeng Zhao's Life

A Crypto King’s Calculated Return

In a villa in Abu Dhabi, a persistent leak has left a discolored stain on the ceiling, a detail Zhao Changpeng, the former CEO of Binance, points out with a shrug. His foyer is stacked with boxes of Binance merchandise, and he urges a visiting journalist to take a souvenir. In the playroom, a Steinway piano sits untouched, its presence revealed only when a tuner arrives.

These are the glimpses of Zhao Changpeng’s life in Abu Dhabi, as described by The New York Times. He drives a white Nissan SUV, his iPhone mounted on the windshield, joking that he’s like “the richest Uber driver in the world.” A gift from the president of Kyrgyzstan is a Taigan dog, while another canine is named “Broccoli” for its phonetic resemblance to “blockchain.” He also recounts his time in prison, discussing business with bank robbers, explaining Bitcoin’s price surges to fellow inmates, and even organizing a stock-watching study group.

These anecdotes paint a picture of a contradictory Zhao Changpeng. On one hand, he consistently portrays himself as an ordinary, even unassuming, “tech guy.” On the other, he is deeply enmeshed in a network of royalty, sovereign wealth funds, governments, and global capital. Even after his guilty plea, imprisonment, and departure from Binance’s management, his influence in the crypto industry remains potent.

The article’s intrigue lies in the juxtaposition of these two personas. Zhao Changpeng presents himself as an outsider who stumbled into significant events, while another thread in the narrative reveals a remarkably shrewd strategist at every turn: choosing where to settle, whom to ally with, and how to shape his own story. Binance’s early growth was fueled by navigating regulatory loopholes; today’s Zhao Changpeng sits directly at the nexus of governments, sovereign capital, and political families.

In this sense, his story mirrors the trajectory of the crypto industry over the past decade: from wild growth to regulatory integration, and finally, to deep entanglement with politics and state capital. The small details of his life might offer an easy entry point into understanding this narrative, but the more profound question is: why does a man who has pleaded guilty and served time remain at the center of the game?

A Mogul’s Abu Dhabi Life

On a June morning, crypto magnate Zhao Changpeng drove a white Nissan SUV to the St. Regis Resort in Abu Dhabi. Zhao, the wealthiest figure in cryptocurrency with an estimated net worth of $114 billion, resides in a nearby villa: nine bedrooms, four bodyguards, a chef, and a yacht named “Da Moon.” Yet, he also embraces the “ordinary person” persona he often uses to describe himself. That day, he offered to personally guide me through the city. Outside the St. Regis, Zhao sat in the driver’s seat of the Nissan, his iPhone mounted on the windshield, looking every bit like the world’s richest Uber driver. “This is my Lamborghini,” he joked as I got in.

To be clear: Zhao Changpeng is not an ordinary person. Not long ago, U.S. authorities filed criminal charges against him for his management of Binance, the cryptocurrency exchange described in court filings as a haven for Russian money launderers, sanction evaders targeting Iran, and ISIS terrorists. Zhao pleaded guilty, yet his fortune remained intact. After serving a four-month prison sentence, he returned to Abu Dhabi, still a major shareholder in Binance and one of the most powerful figures in the industry.

Now 49, Zhao Changpeng travels the world like a head of state, flying on private jets across Asia and advising governments on cryptocurrency regulation. Each stop in Islamabad or Manila is often followed by news of new regulatory breakthroughs for Binance. At his home, one of his two dogs is a Taigan, an elegant Central Asian hound often compared to an antelope. It was a gift from the president of Kyrgyzstan, a leader with a keen interest in cryptocurrency who also went skiing with Zhao in February. “He originally wanted to give me a tent, a big one,” Zhao said. “I said no tents, so he insisted on the dog.”

Zhao’s most influential allies are two powerful ruling families. One is the family that governs the United Arab Emirates, hoping to leverage his expertise to build a tech superpower in the desert. The other is the Trump family. Last year, Binance established a business relationship with World Liberty Financial, a cryptocurrency startup founded by former President Trump and his three sons. Last year, World Liberty generated $799 million for Trump, making it his most lucrative single asset, surpassing his real estate portfolio or social media ventures. In October, Trump pardoned Zhao Changpeng, a move widely criticized as a quid pro quo.

Known in the industry as “CZ,” Zhao Changpeng typically avoids reporters. However, he met with me several times this year, eager to put a more favorable gloss on his Binance career, even as the exchange continues to facilitate illicit financial flows. He is tall and thin, with short black hair and a Binance tattoo on his forearm, lacking the ostentatious fraternity vibe of many of his crypto peers. He comes across as polite and focused, though his interests are almost comically narrow. This year, he self-published his memoir, “Freedom of Money,” in which he recounts a private tour of the Louvre after closing hours. The experience left him unmoved. He wrote that the guide was essentially “casting pearls before swine.”

For years, his true calling has been what scholars call “jurisdictional arbitrage”—hopping from country to country in search of a legal framework flexible enough to accommodate his appetite for risk and growth. In Abu Dhabi, he may have found his ideal landing spot. As we drove through the city, Zhao chatted amiably, pausing occasionally for his bodyguard to help with directions. (“Okay boss, stay to the right.”) We passed grand estates and drove toward Qasr Al Watan, the Presidential Palace, its striking white dome reminiscent of the Taj Mahal.

Zhao grew animated. “For the past few hundred years, democracy has been held up as the holy grail, but democracy is inefficient,” he said as we neared the Presidential Palace. “If you have a benevolent dictator, it’s actually extremely efficient. No arguments, no wasting time on those boring things.”

This blend of medieval and hyper-modern, top-down models of business and politics has gained traction in the U.S. During a visit to Abu Dhabi last year, Trump called the country’s ruler, Sheikh Mohammed bin Zayed Al Nahyan, “a very tough man” and “a visionary.” Zach Witkoff, the son of a senior Trump adviser and a scion of the MAGA circle himself, was more direct at a crypto conference in Dubai last May. “We really should learn from His Highness and the UAE,” Mr. Witkoff said. “They are a fantastic example of how to lead in innovation while holding onto family values.”

Zhao Changpeng is already living in the future these men aspire to, ensconced in an elite enclave where monarchs and billionaires coexist harmoniously. Driving away from the Presidential Palace, he told me about a private meeting he had earlier at the Emirates Palace Mandarin Oriental hotel nearby, attended by executives like hedge fund founder Ray Dalio and Japanese billionaire Masayoshi Son. As Zhao sat in the audience, he noticed someone lean over to speak with him. It was Sheikh Mohammed. He wanted to know how Zhao was doing and if there was anything he could do to help.

A Life on the Run, Then Found

A chronic back condition has accustomed CZ to working while lying down. Photo: Laura Boushnak/The New York Times

One day earlier this year, Zhao Changpeng was working from his bed when the windows began to vibrate. He has long battled chronic pain, often conducting business from a reclining position. He told me he got up and walked onto the balcony to see a smoke trail in the sky. Zhao lives on Saadiyat Island, an enclave in Abu Dhabi facing the Persian Gulf across from Iran, which had just fired a missile at the UAE.

It was the beginning of a region-shaking geopolitical crisis, but Zhao Changpeng seemed unfazed. He returned to bed and continued working. “More people die in car accidents than in missile attacks,” he said later. “It’s safe here.”

Before settling in the UAE, Zhao Changpeng was a man without a country. Born in China, he moved with his family to Canada at age 12. After attending McGill University, he worked in various tech roles, moving between New York, China, and Japan. In July 2013, at a poker game in Shanghai, a colleague suggested he look into “this new thing called Bitcoin.”

It was a perfect borderless technology for his borderless lifestyle. After months of research, Zhao Changpeng made a radical bet. He sold his home: a three-bedroom apartment in Shanghai where he and his wife were raising their two children. The $900,000 sale proceeds went entirely into Bitcoin. It was a risky move, but Zhao Changpeng wasn’t worried. He figured he could always find another high-paying job in traditional finance if Bitcoin tanked.

Subsequently, Zhao Changpeng held positions at several cryptocurrency startups in Asia. The industry exploded in the 2010s, with hundreds of new tokens emerging, but the platforms trading them were managed loosely and prone to hacking. In July 2017, Zhao Changpeng founded Binance. Within months, it became the world’s largest exchange, a title it has held ever since.

Binance’s success was built on two key insights. First, the species of crypto investor is addicted to risk; simply exchanging dollars or yen for equivalent crypto will never satisfy them. For years, Binance operated as a margin exchange: traders could borrow money to make high-risk, high-reward bets on the price of Bitcoin and other popular tokens.

The second insight was simpler but more impactful. Many crypto investors preferred to remain anonymous, and Binance did not require them to identify themselves. For its first four years, the company allowed customers to open accounts without providing even basic KYC information. Traditional companies require this “know your customer” information to prevent financial crime.

Binance was not the only exchange offering such high-risk services, but Zhao Changpeng executed it better than any competitor. “There were many MySpaces in the exchange world, and he built the Facebook,” said Austin Campbell, founder of a crypto consulting firm. The result was an extraordinarily profitable anarchy: a platform where unregulated investment products were open to unregulated traders. As the market boomed, Binance took a cut of every transaction; according to “Freedom of Money,” company profits quickly reached $1 billion.

Trump-branded sneakers were a gift from businessman Gabe Abed, who served as Barbados’ ambassador to the UAE. Photo: Laura Boushnak/The New York Times

Zhao Changpeng became an overnight celebrity in the crypto world. But even as he joined the ranks of super-rich executives with astonishing political influence, those outside the industry remained largely unaware of him. When recounting his most controversial moments, Zhao Changpeng casts himself as a passenger: a crypto geek swept up in success, a naive outsider who somehow became a villain in a James Bond movie.

This performance isn’t always convincing. In late June, sitting in his kitchen, Zhao Changpeng told me that in the early days of Binance’s explosive growth, he “never really intended” to break the law, a period when lax controls allowed waves of criminals to launder money. “It was just my lack of experience in that area,” he said. “I’m a tech guy, I lived in China.”

This image is at odds with the evidence U.S. prosecutors gathered during their investigation of Binance. In court, they cited a warning Zhao Changpeng gave his subordinates: “It’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” According to court documents, Zhao Changpeng privately discussed how to conceal Binance’s service to U.S. users, even though the company was not licensed in the United States. “Don’t leave anything in writing,” he told a subordinate.

In Abu Dhabi, Zhao Changpeng calls himself a “rule-follower.” But it’s clear he made a strategic choice at a critical juncture: to test the boundaries of the law when a new generation of investors was forming habits and the rules themselves were quite elastic.

He reminded me of this as he led me through his home’s foyer. Boxes of Binance merchandise were stacked there. He urged me to pick out a gift, perhaps a Binance backpack or a black-and-yellow baseball jacket-style Binance sweater.

CZ’s entryway is piled with Binance merchandise. Photo: Laura Boushnak/The New York Times

I told him that reporters have rules about such things and cannot accept gifts over $20. He laughed, saying the items were “probably $19.”

After years of moving around Asia, Zhao Changpeng visited the UAE in 2021. In 2017, when the Chinese government prepared to ban crypto exchanges, he and his Binance colleagues had to flee China in the middle of the night. His time in Japan didn’t work out, nor did Singapore, where obtaining a work visa proved difficult. Later, Zhao Changpeng’s friend Gabriel Abed offered a suggestion. Mr. Abed, a businessman and Barbados’ ambassador to the UAE, told Zhao Changpeng to check out Dubai.

Zhao Changpeng immediately saw how the UAE treated the wealthy and powerful. He arrived in Dubai on a Saturday morning in October, and within hours, government minister Omar Sultan Al Olama paid him a visit. He offered Zhao Changpeng a so-called Golden Visa, granting ten years of worry-free residency. A doctor was called to perform the blood tests required for all visa holders. Such applications typically take weeks; Zhao Changpeng was approved in less than 12 hours.

This welcoming reception impressed Zhao Changpeng. “On my fourth day in Dubai, I looked at two properties,” he told me. “I bought the second one.” By the end of that year, Binance had signed a memorandum of understanding with the local government to develop rules for crypto businesses; the company sent three employees to help draft the framework. The draft was completed in January 2022 and signed into law weeks later. “If you’re the captain of a ship sailing due north, the UAE wants you to join their fleet,” Mr. Abed said. “That’s how they treated CZ. They courted him from day one.”

Not everyone in the UAE receives such generous treatment. For years, the country’s leaders have engaged in mass surveillance, criminalized even the mildest dissent, and managed a labor market where foreign workers are routinely exploited and abused.

But for Zhao Changpeng, it marked the beginning of a comfortable new life. Before founding Binance, he had separated from his wife, who moved to Tokyo with their children. He became involved with his colleague He Yi. He Yi, who handles marketing, is known in China as the former host of the travel show “Beautiful Destinations.” Zhao Changpeng’s older children attend university in the United States, and he and He Yi are raising a young family in the emirate.

He Yi, CZ’s partner and the mother of his three young children, was appointed one of Binance’s co-CEOs after CZ stepped down. Photo: Laura Boushnak/The New York Times

Zhao Changpeng was introduced into an exclusive circle of billionaire socialites. He befriended a group of tech-interested UAE leaders, whom he called “crypto sheikhs.” Eventually, he met Sheikh Tahnoon bin Zayed Al Nahyan, a brother of Sheikh Mohammed. Sheikh Tahnoon, an avid practitioner of jiu-jitsu, often hosted powerful businessmen at his palace. In the circles of royal dinners, Zhao Changpeng was treated as a distinguished guest. “We were wondering how to arrange the seating,” he said. “Sit anywhere, it’s fine.”

During these early interactions, the sheikhs would introduce Zhao Changpeng to the UAE and ask what they could do for him. Soon, Zhao Changpeng began extolling the country’s virtues to a wider group of billionaires. He encouraged AI mogul Sam Altman to set up shop in the UAE, warning that other countries would be hostile. “You’ll face a lot of regulatory issues,” Zhao Changpeng told him over coffee.

Zhao Changpeng is by no means unfamiliar with the perils of emerging industries. Upon his arrival in the UAE, he was locked in a fierce battle with a young entrepreneur named Sam Bankman-Fried, founder of rival exchange FTX. Bankman-Fried, the son of two Stanford Law professors, was in many ways Zhao Changpeng’s opposite: a quintessential insider who paved his way to the top of the industry through connections and proximity to American political elites. “He had access I didn’t,” Zhao Changpeng wrote in his memoir. Bankman-Fried poached Binance employees, offering salaries three to five times higher. Zhao Changpeng also heard rumors that Bankman-Fried was speaking ill of him in Washington.

In November 2022, a report by crypto media outlet CoinDesk questioned the solvency of FTX’s finances. Zhao Changpeng, then in Dubai and about to go for drinks with Gabriel Abed, decided to weigh in on Twitter, issuing a short, brutal announcement: he would sell his $500 million stake in FTT, a token representing FTX stock. The post triggered panic, and anxious investors rushed to withdraw funds from FTX.

The money wasn’t there. Bankman-Fried had stolen $8 billion from customers. He had no choice but to seek help, and there was only one person in the crypto world with the resources to assist him. Two days after the tweet, Zhao Changpeng announced he would acquire FTX; a day later, he backed out of the deal, plunging FTX into deeper crisis. It looked like a masterful corporate war, a “bloody sport,” in the words of one observer. Within six weeks, Bankman-Fried was arrested at his Bahamas apartment and extradited to the United States. He was eventually sentenced to 25 years in prison for fraud.

Zhao Changpeng told me he never intended to destroy FTX. He adopted his usual shrug of feigned innocence, explaining that he had planned to sell his FTT stake slowly over several months. “I had no intention of bringing them down,” he said. “We lost $500 million.”

His defeated rival saw things differently. “He played me,” Bankman-Fried said at the time, “and he played me beautifully.”

After living in Dubai for a few years, CZ moved to the political center of power, Abu Dhabi. Photo: Natalie Naccache/The New York Times

Billionaires flocked to the UAE for billionaire reasons. The country levies no income tax and is considered extremely safe, especially when U.S. and European crypto investors are frequent targets for kidnappers. But for Zhao Changpeng, who had just witnessed his nemesis being extradited internationally, the UAE offered another significant advantage: it has no extradition treaty with the United States.

He recalled that in late 2022 or early 2023, a member of the UAE royal family asked him at dinner if he wanted citizenship. Zhao Changpeng submitted some documents and waited. Months later, a government envoy arrived at his home with a box containing passports for him and his family. The Emiratis “will never extradite their own citizens,” Zhao Changpeng told me. “That’s very powerful.”

He had reason to be wary: the noose around Binance was tightening. U.S. prosecutors were gathering evidence that the exchange’s lax protocols had allowed scammers, hackers, and sanction evaders to move funds. In private information obtained by the government, Binance employees spoke with startling candor about the exchange’s illicit clients. “Is it too difficult to wash drug money now?” one employee wrote. “Come to Binance, we have cake for you.”

Zhao Changpeng hired a team of lawyers to negotiate with the Justice Department. His new passport gave him considerable leverage. After two years in Dubai, he moved an hour and a half south to Abu Dhabi, closer to the country’s political center of power. During negotiations, Zhao Changpeng seriously considered a life on the run: he would have to limit his travel, but he would theoretically be safe in the UAE.

Ultimately, his legal team reached a deal with the U.S. government. Zhao Changpeng would admit to violating the Bank Secrecy Act, an anti-money-laundering law, and step down as CEO. (The company would pay a $4.3 billion fine.) Despite the lenient terms, he remained dissatisfied with his lawyers and did not believe he deserved to go to prison at all. “I went to prison because our platform didn’t do KYC,” he told me. “In the U.S., you can vote for president without an ID. I don’t know how this system came about. Considering everything I’ve been through, someone should go to jail for this.”

It was an excellent outcome for Binance, however. At his sentencing hearing in the spring of 2024, Zhao Changpeng delivered a remorseful statement: “I deeply regret my failures and I am sorry.” The judge sentenced Zhao Changpeng to four months in prison, calling him “a dutiful family member and a generous giver.” As the sentence was read, Zhao’s son, who was attending university, quietly clenched his fist.

As one of the few felons with nearly unlimited resources, Zhao Changpeng was in an ideal position to minimize his hardship. He was assigned to Lompoc II, a low-security federal prison in California, the same prison complex where Bankman-Fried would later be held. Before reporting to prison, Zhao Changpeng assembled a team of consultants to teach him the nuances of prison politics. One of them, Michael Santos, communicated with other inmates who agreed to help Zhao Changpeng navigate the environment. “CZ, you’re a people person, you’ve managed thousands of employees,” Mr. Santos told him. “You won’t lose those skills walking in here.”

Zhao Changpeng arrived at Lompoc on the morning of May 30, 2024. He quickly integrated into the so-called “car,” informal social groups typically divided by ethnicity. At meals, other Asian inmates sat with Zhao Changpeng and exercised with him on the yard during recreation time. They were excited to be in proximity to a billionaire. “Everyone made way for him,” said Jaton Aguon, a fellow inmate at Lompoc. “Like a king walking down the hall.”

Zhao Changpeng became close with a Vietnamese bank robber who had previously been an engineer. They discussed the robberies in detail, which lacked the elaborate planning of an Ocean’s Eleven heist. Zhao Changpeng told me the man was “very gentle” and “super chill.” “He just walked in, asked for money, and left. And he succeeded 11 times.”

The bank robber was one of the few inmates interested in the business world. He read Bloomberg and The Wall Street Journal, asking Zhao Changpeng about Elon Musk’s astronomical compensation package at Tesla. Other inmates had business questions, one of whom wanted to understand the mysteries of the cryptocurrency market. “He said, that, Bitcoin… why did it go up?” Zhao Changpeng recalled. “I said, wow, I’m actually not sure.” Zhao Changpeng organized a stock-watching study group; a television in the prison was locked on the CNBC channel.

His words were not always well-received. At Lompoc, Zhao Changpeng struggled to convey his conviction that the Binance case had no victims, “no fraud, nothing.” When he explained the details, the response was dismissive. “They said, yeah, everyone says that,” Zhao Changpeng recalled.

In August 2024, Zhao Changpeng left Lompoc for a halfway house. But a minor issue with his immigration status required him to spend his final two weeks in a local jail, passing the time with push-ups and sit-ups in his cell. On the day of his release, a guard escorted him out, where his mother, sister, and assistant waited. They drove to a nearby airport and put him on a private jet to Abu Dhabi.

From the moment Zhao Changpeng walked out of incarceration to the takeoff of his private jet, only 26 minutes elapsed.

Driving his Nissan SUV through Abu Dhabi’s streets. Photo: Laura Boushnak/The New York Times

Upon Zhao Changpeng’s return, the world was shifting in his favor. A crypto-friendly administration was poised to take power in Washington. Shortly before the election, Trump co-founded World Liberty with the Steve Witkoff family. Mr. Witkoff, a real estate magnate, was preparing to serve as the White House’s Middle East envoy. Soon, these newly empowered transactional diplomats from the U.S. began frequenting the UAE.

Driving me around the city, Zhao Changpeng stopped to point out the ADNEC Centre, a convention hall that hosted a major crypto enthusiast gathering in December 2024. “That’s where I met Eric Trump,” he said. He recalled being introduced to the president’s second son and a World Liberty principal by a Trump supporter named David Bailey at the venue. It was a casual conversation with no formal agenda. “He just said he was looking at a real estate project here,” Zhao Changpeng told me.

Their interests were about to align. The UAE has been pushing to transition from an oil state to a burgeoning tech superpower, a project spearheaded by Sheikh Tahnoon, who oversees $1.5 trillion in UAE sovereign wealth. Before his imprisonment, Zhao Changpeng had discussed selling Binance shares to the UAE with Peng Xiao, a senior deputy to the sheikh, representing the ultimate fusion of his company and political asylum.

Sheikh Tahnoon, rarely seen without sunglasses, is the chairman of MGX, a venture capital fund focused on artificial intelligence. Early last year, MGX agreed to invest $2 billion in Binance, a deal that valued the company at $75 billion, according to a person familiar with the matter. MGX saw Binance as the perfect bridge between crypto and AI: a high-tech financial transfer service that could one day enable automated AI “agents” to make payments on behalf of real people.

Zhao Changpeng told me he wanted to settle the deal with Bitcoin. The UAE, concerned about Bitcoin’s price volatility, worried it would complicate the transaction. They preferred to pay with stablecoins, cryptocurrencies designed to maintain a $1 price peg.

What happened next is subject to conflicting accounts. If Democrats win control of Congress in November, it is likely to become the subject of a congressional investigation. According to MGX, the fund evaluated various stablecoins and ultimately selected USD1, a token issued by World Liberty, for “commercial compatibility.” This was a stunning choice, given that USD1 was entirely untested and had no track record. Last year, The Wall Street Journal reported that Binance had explicitly demanded MGX pay with USD1; Zhao Changpeng said the decision was MGX’s. “I didn’t care much, as long as the stablecoin was reputable and wouldn’t disappear overnight,” he told me. “There were no other considerations.”

But all parties had an incentive to bring World Liberty into the deal. In January 2025, days before Trump’s inauguration, an investment firm with UAE ties acquired a 49% stake in the startup; Sheikh Tahnoon gained a seat on World Liberty’s board. Around the same time, the UAE was negotiating with the White House for access to valuable chip exports that power AI. Binance also had a request for the Trump administration. As its legal troubles receded, the company wanted to shed some of the restrictions imposed by its 2023 settlement.

Steve Witkoff’s son Zach announced the deal in May 2025, thanking Binance and MGX for “their trust in us.” Congressional Democrats condemned it as “stablecoin corruption.” Issuers like World Liberty make money by taking cash deposits from crypto traders, giving them stablecoins, and then investing the deposits for yield. With $2 billion from MGX and Binance, World Liberty instantly became one of the world’s largest stablecoin companies, an unexpected windfall for both the Trump and Witkoff families. “This is pure pandering at all costs,” said Connecticut Democratic Senator Richard Blumenthal, who investigated Zhao Changpeng and Binance. “The scope and scale of the corruption are unprecedented.”

Zhao Changpeng maintains that nothing improper occurred. He said he no longer holds the USD1, having invested it in Bitcoin and other assets. “I think President Trump has very good lawyers, and the arrangement of a son doing business while his father is president is completely compliant,” he told me. He also suggested that some of the anger might stem from cultural differences. “In Kazakhstan, we can eat horse meat,” he explained. “In some other countries, we’d think, ‘That’s crazy.’ ” Isn’t it a good thing for the ruling families of two governments to do business together? Zhao Changpeng offered a medieval analogy. “Marrying a daughter of one country to the prince of another,” he said, “and they can maintain peace for 50 years.”

Two weeks after the $2 billion deal closed, the White House agreed to share access to these chips, overriding concerns from some U.S. national security officials. Last spring, Steve Witkoff visited Abu Dhabi with Trump and celebrated the deal with UAE officials at the Presidential Palace.

According to a person familiar with the conversation, Mr. Witkoff also privately told an acquaintance that Zhao Changpeng should receive a presidential pardon. Zhao Changpeng had submitted the necessary paperwork, awaiting a presidential decision. The outcome would have a significant impact on Binance. After Zhao Changpeng’s guilty plea, the exchange’s dormant U.S. operations lost their state-level licenses. A pardon would help the company market itself to regulators. (A White House spokeswoman stated that Mr. Witkoff does not participate in the pardon process.)

Describing the process to me, Zhao Changpeng spoke cautiously, calling it a “black box” guarded by a handful of lawyers who regularly sent updates from Washington. “From time to time,” he said, unknown intermediaries would approach him at social events, saying they could arrange a meeting with Trump if the price was right. “It’s a mini-industry of people trying to make money,” Zhao Changpeng said.

Zhao Changpeng ignored them. He told me that in March 2025, after other crypto executives received pardons and The Wall Street Journal reported he was also seeking one, he began to seriously consider it. “I thought, if the newspapers think I should seek a pardon, maybe I should,” he said.

In fact, as early as December 2024, Zhao Changpeng’s legal team had been working with prominent pardon lawyer Brett Tolman to explore the possibility of clemency, according to two people familiar with the matter and documents reviewed by The New York Times. Public filings show that Binance ultimately paid $2.1 million to a lobbying firm run by Ches McDowell, whose services included “executive clemency.” Mr. McDowell has close ties to the president’s eldest sons. (A spokesperson for World Liberty told me the company “was not involved in any pardon decisions whatsoever.”)

When the pardon was announced last October, Zhao Changpeng had just flown to Kyrgyzstan to meet President Sadyr Japarov, who was interested in establishing a digital currency pegged to the Kyrgyz national currency. In the capital, Bishkek, his hosts greeted him, and Zhao Changpeng posted a brief thank you on social media. That evening, he spent time with the president at a restaurant, discussing stablecoins.

A Steinway piano sits in a children’s room. Photo: Laura Boushnak/The New York Times

On a sweltering summer morning this year, Zhao Changpeng drove into the driveway of his $5 million villa. He and He Yi take turns hosting parents and siblings from both sides here. Two dogs greeted him at the door. In addition to the Taigan, Zhao Changpeng owns a Belgian Malinois named Broccoli, because he thought the word sounded a bit like “blockchain.”

A photographer trailed behind him as Zhao Changpeng moved briskly between rooms, pointing out photos of his young children. A grand, cream-colored piano sat in the center of the children’s playroom, surrounded by toys, its neglected state displeasing the tuner who arrived to service it. It was a Steinway, “the expensive kind,” Zhao Changpeng told me, “but I don’t play.” In his home gym, he paused to do a few sets of bench presses.

Zhao Changpeng wants to convey that he doesn’t live like a typical billionaire. Forbes estimates his wealth at over $100 billion, but Zhao Changpeng insists the actual figure is much lower, somewhere between $10 billion and $30 billion. He said he could live comfortably on a fraction of that, a mere $10 million.

In the crypto podcast circuit, Zhao Changpeng is occasionally asked about his house, and he often mentions a leak upstairs that has never been fixed. Indeed, in the living room, he pointed to a water stain on the floor and then to the ceiling. “It’s right there,” he said. “I don’t know if you can see the color difference.”

CZ points to an unrepaired leak on his ceiling. Photo: Laura Boushnak/The New York Times

By billionaire standards, Zhao Changpeng’s villa is indeed modest; he told me a house nearby was listed for $150 million. But his feigned humility is difficult to reconcile with the world of power and privilege he inhabits. At one group dinner, Zhao Changpeng listened as Sam Altman described an emerging field of biotech research. “They can take sperm and eggs from one person,” Zhao Changpeng recalled. “Basically, you can have children by yourself.” Zhao Changpeng himself harbors ambitions to defy biological limitations; he has invested in a startup researching artificial wombs.

Since his release from prison, Zhao Changpeng’s time has been divided among a range of pursuits, including his tech investments and travel as a sort of crypto diplomat, promoting the industry in countries where he is often treated like royalty. “They always send someone with two cars, right up to the plane,” he told me. “And there’s a girl holding local specialties, as if you should try them.”

Zhao Changpeng downplays his involvement with Binance; the company’s plea deal prohibits him from “operating or managing” the business. He has made a point of expressing his displeasure with Binance’s recent decision to sue The Wall Street Journal. The newspaper had reported on staff departures from its compliance department, a lawsuit he called “a complete waste of time.” Even if Binance wins, “they won’t get much,” he told me. (The company withdrew the suit last month.)

Clearly, Binance remains a significant part of his life. One of the two individuals who succeeded him as co-CEOs is He Yi, the mother of his three young children. Two years ago, in an effort to align with traditional governance, Binance established a board of three ostensibly independent trustees. One of them, who also serves as chairman, is Gabe Abed, the friend who recruited Zhao Changpeng to the UAE. They have jet-skied together, and Mr. Abed once gifted Zhao Changpeng a pair of orange high-top sneakers emblazoned with “TRUMP CRYPTO PRESIDENT.”

Recently, Binance has faced new allegations of misconduct. Last year, four compliance officers were fired or suspended after reporting that nearly $2 billion in funds had moved from customer accounts to entities linked to Iran, potentially a repeat of the sanction-evasion activities that led to the U.S. criminal case in 2023. The company disputes the employees’ conclusions and denies that anyone was disciplined for raising concerns. The Justice Department later stated that two Chinese companies used Binance to launder proceeds from Iranian oil sales but brought no charges against Binance.

Binance’s relationship with the UAE has also seen some friction. In December, the company secured a license to operate in Abu Dhabi, the city that would soon face intense Iranian missile attacks; the exchange’s new regulator praised Binance as a beacon of “regulatory progress.” However, by this summer, two Binance employees were briefly detained in the UAE. It was an unusually strong move by local police, who were investigating potential financial crimes on the platform.

These detentions have unsettled Binance’s local staff. Zhao Changpeng told me he messaged a contact in the UAE police and reached out to several of Sheikh Tahnoon’s deputies. “I said, ‘Look, let’s find a way to prevent this from happening again,'” Zhao Changpeng recalled. “It doesn’t look good for the country, and it doesn’t look good for us.” He insists the UAE remains a friendly home for Binance. “Nobody is in danger,” he said.

Zhao Changpeng possesses the confidence of someone who has repeatedly escaped peril. In an era that often rewards blatant transgressions, he is an unadulterated winner. In his memoir, he dedicates a page and a half to his belief in “simulation theory,” the idea that we might all be living in a reality imagined by someone else. He encountered this idea early in his crypto career and now believes it is mathematically certain. “In 20 years, we should be able to plug a tube into our heads and enter a full simulation, like in The Matrix,” he wrote. “Billions of people will do this. There will be billions of simulations.”

This belief allows Zhao Changpeng a degree of detachment from the pressures of daily life. We might be some version of Super Mario, running around in a fabricated landscape, he wrote. He tries to live by a simple maxim: “It’s just a game.”

Truth: Over 80% of new Binance tokens have fallen below their listing price in the past six