作者：黄娟

编辑：李堃 责任编辑：钟然 校对：熊辩 翻译：刘芳

白纸无法被焚尽，真相无法被封杀。

三年过去了。中国的街道恢复喧嚣，网络重新被娱乐与审查填满，权力继续以机械而庞大的姿态运行。但三年前的那个冬天，无数人手中举起的一张白纸，并没有被时间抹去。　

白纸空无一字，却记录了一切：记录封控下的哭声，记录死亡背后的冷漠，记录权力在黑暗中扩张的轨迹，也记录人民第一次突破恐惧后爆发的勇气。白纸运动不是结束，而是开始。

开始让沉默的历史被写下，让责任者知道：人民有记忆。

一、极端封控：以“疫情”为名的全面失控从 2020 年初疫情爆发到 2022 年底全国放开，中国经历了世界上最严格、持续时间最长、范围最广的封控体系。这一时期的荒诞与痛苦并非自然灾害造成，而是政治系统刻意设计出来的治理模式：以牺牲公民权利为代价，以控制流动为目标，以服从为唯一标准。以下是那些不该被遗忘的重大事件。

疫情三年重大事件时间线：必须写进历史的证据

2020：封控与失序的第一年

1. 全国范围封城与“一刀切”暴力管理（2020.1–2020.6）无数小区被封死、焊死；居民断粮、断药求助无门；无数重病患者、孕妇因无法就医死亡，仅在网上流传的案例已达数百起；这些事件绝大多数被迅速删除。从一开始，权力便选择了最粗暴的方式：把所有人当成潜在敌人，而不是应被保护的公民。

2. 武汉方舱内的大量非人道案例许多人在方舱中无法获得治疗、药品、隐私与尊严。大量影像显示室内混乱、排泄物外泄、老人无人照顾。然而当时所有批评都被归为“造谣”。

2021：体制化僵硬扩大，生命继续被牺牲

3. 西安孕妇被拒诊流产事件（2021.12.30）当地医院因“核酸过期四小时”拒绝一名孕妇入院，最终导致其在医院门外大出血后流产。事件曝光后，全国震怒，但只是短暂震荡。官员换了，制度没有变。生命依旧只是“规则”的附属品。

2022：极端封控全面强化，也是压垮全国耐心的一年

4. 上海封城深渊（2022.3–2022.6）这是中国现代城市治理史上最荒诞的时期之一：数千万居民被封超过 70 天；无数老人死于就医受阻；婴儿与父母被强行分离隔离；居民为买菜抢破头、群里乞求食物；居民被深夜强制拉走隔离，不分老弱病残；小区围堵、铁板封门、健康码全程监视。上海曾被称为“中国最现代化城市”。在封控下却暴露出：权力面前，没有现代化，只有服从。

河南村镇银行储户健康码被操控变“红码”（2022.6）这是疫情三年最典型的权力滥用案例：储户因维权被直接赋红码，无法出行；健康码被彻底政治化；公共卫生工具从此被完全异化为“维稳工具”。若一个国家可以随意修改颜色决定你的行动，那健康码不是防疫工具，是数字枷锁。

6. 贵阳转运大巴深夜翻覆（2022.9.18）为了完成“清零任务”，贵州在凌晨强制转运居民前往百公里外的隔离点，结果大巴翻覆：造成 27 死 20 伤；许多死者甚至不知道自己为何必须被拉走；当局回应：“在路上也是防疫的一部分”。一句话，揭露了防疫的真相：他们防的不是病毒，而是人。

7. 乌鲁木齐火灾悲剧（2022.11.24）——白纸运动的导火索封控导致逃生困难，消防救援迟滞，造成多人死亡。当地官员回应：“居民自救能力不足。”这句话成为压垮全国民众的最后一根稻草。当封控连逃生路线都能封死的时候，每个中国人都意识到：危险不是来自病毒，而是来自封控本身。接下来，白纸运动爆发。

二、白纸运动：一次跨越审查、恐惧与噤声的集体觉醒。白纸运动并非组织、政党或阴谋煽动，而是中国年轻人与普通人面对压抑三年后的自发行动：北京、上海、成都、广州、南京、武汉、长沙……海外的纽约、伦敦、墨尔本、东京……这一刻，全世界华人都看见了：中国人民不是没有勇气，而是勇气被压抑太久。白纸举起后，人们喊出了三年来第一次敢在公开场合喊出的声音：“不要封控，要自由。”“不要谎言，要尊严。”“不要文革，要正常生活。”“不要领袖，要选票。”（部分城市出现）这是几十年来最开放、最真实、最原始的民意表达。

三、中共必须付出的代价：历史不会赦免，不会遗忘代价不是暴力，也不是仇恨，而是须面对的那张责任与真相的历史账单。

1. 对死亡者负责。火灾死者、车祸死者、无法就医的死者、方舱中离世的他们都需要真相、需要调查、需要问责。这是一个文明社会最基本的底线。

2. 对滥用公权力负责健康码被政治化、封控被武器化、转运被机械化、一刀切成为常态。

　　这不是“个别干部执行过度”，是系统性失控。系统欠人民一个交代。

3. 对信息封锁负责。疫情期间：求助帖被删；死亡病例被压；市民视频被屏蔽；官媒统一口径重复“总体可控”。信息封锁并没有减少死亡，只是减少了公众知情。

4. 对侵犯基本人权负责。自由权、迁徙权、医疗权、隐私权、监督权，在疫情三年被压缩到历史最低点。

一个政府若以“疫情”为名剥夺公民权利，它最终会习惯这种剥夺，直至疫情结束之后仍继续沿用。未来若不追责，这种模式会再次出现。

5. 对制度性失败负责。疫情三年暴露出：决策全封闭、缺乏多方审核；没有独立媒体作为监督力量；法治让位于行政命令；科学被政治取代。若不从根本上改革，这些问题将在未来带来更深的危机。

四、纪念白纸运动，不是为了对抗，而是为了不再重复悲剧；纪念白纸运动，不是为了制造敌人，而是为了提醒所有人：一个社会若不能讨论错误，它就会在错误中循环。

一个政府若从不承担责任，它就会越来越无视生命。白纸象征的不是煽动，而是：透明、问责、权利、法治和人的尊严。一个文明国家的根基，不应该靠恐惧维持，而应该靠公开、监督与自由维持。

五、白纸无字，但历史有记忆。权力可以封锁社交网络，可以删除帖子，可以审查媒体，可以拘捕抗议者，但无法删除历史本身。被焊死的门、被封住的消防通道、深夜被拉走的居民、不能就医的孕妇、无法逃生的家庭、被赋红码的储户、被隔离的儿童、被删光的求助贴……这一切都真实发生过，也永远不会消失。三年后，我们依然要说：

白纸还在。

　　真相未灭。

　　人民记得。

　　历史会追问。

　　责任必将被追究。

White Paper Movement: Three Years On

Author: Huang Juan
Editor: Li Kun Executive Editor: Zhong Ran Proofreader: Xiong Bian Translator: Liu Fang

Abstract:

The White Paper Movement documented the pain and courage of China’s three years under extreme lockdowns. From Wuhan’s Fangcang shelters and the Shanghai lockdown, to the Guizhou quarantine-bus crash and the Urumqi fire, it exposes systemic dysfunction and information suppression, calling for historical memory, accountability, and societal transparency.

The white paper cannot be burned, and truth cannot be erased.

Three years have passed. China’s streets are noisy again, the internet has returned to a mixture of entertainment and censorship, and the machinery of power continues to operate as massive and impersonal as ever. Yet the blank sheets held up in countless hands during the winter three years ago have not been wiped away by time.

A sheet of white paper contains no words, yet records everything: the cries under lockdown, the indifference behind deaths, the expansion of power in the dark, and the courage that erupted when people broke through fear for the first time. The White Paper Movement was not an ending — it was a beginning.

A beginning that forces silenced history to be written, and forces those responsible to understand: the people remember.

I. Extreme Lockdowns: A System Designed for Control, Not Protection

From the outbreak in early 2020 to the nationwide reopening at the end of 2022, China implemented the world’s strictest and longest lockdown regime. The absurdity and suffering of these years were not natural disasters, but the result of a political system deliberately designed to sacrifice individual rights for total control. Below are the events that must not be forgotten.

Timeline of Major Events (2020–2022): Evidence That Must Be Preserved:

2020 — The First Year of Lockdowns and Disorder

Nationwide lockdowns and violent “one-size-fits-all” enforcement (Jan–Jun 2020)Communities were welded shut; residents ran out of food and medicine; critically ill patients and pregnant women died because they could not access care — hundreds of documented cases circulated online before being deleted. From the beginning, the authorities treated citizens not as people to be protected, but as potential threats to be contained.

Inhumane conditions in Wuhan’s Fangcang sheltersPatients were denied treatment, medication, privacy, and dignity. Footage showed chaos, overflowing waste, and unattended elderly people. Any criticism was dismissed as “rumors”.

2021 — Institutional Stagnation Deepens; Lives Continue to Be Sacrificed

Xi’an pregnant woman denied treatment and miscarrying (Dec 30, 2021)A woman was refused entry to a hospital because her PCR test had expired by four hours. She bled heavily and miscarried outside the building. Public anger surged briefly, but nothing changed. Officials rotated; the system remained.

2022 — The Year That Broke China’s Patience

Shanghai’s catastrophic lockdown (Mar–Jun 2022)Tens of millions were sealed in for over 70 days. Elderly people died after being denied medical care; infants were separated from parents; residents begged for food; people were taken away at night for forced quarantine regardless of age or health status; communities were barricaded with metal sheets; every movement was monitored. Shanghai was once called “China’s most modern city.” Under lockdown, modernity vanished — only obedience remained.

Henan rural-bank depositors’ health codes turned “red” (Jun 2022)This became the clearest case of power abuse: citizens trying to withdraw legitimate deposits were assigned red health codes, making travel impossible. The health-code system was fully weaponized into a tool of political control — a digital shackle.

Guizhou quarantine-transfer bus crash (Sep 18, 2022)To meet “zero-COVID targets”, officials forced residents into buses at dawn for long-distance transfers. One bus overturned, killing 27 and injuring 20. Many victims did not even know why they had been taken. The official response: “Being on the road is also part of epidemic control.” A single sentence revealed the truth: they were not controlling the virus — they were controlling people.

Urumqi apartment fire (Nov 24, 2022) — the spark that ignited the movementLockdown barriers obstructed escape; rescue was delayed; multiple people died. Officials blamed residents: “People lacked self-rescue ability”. This shattered public tolerance. When lockdowns could kill more effectively than the virus itself, everyone realized the true danger came from the system, not the disease.

II. The White Paper Movement: A Spontaneous Awakening Across Fear and Censorship

The movement was not organized by any party, group, or foreign force. It erupted naturally from ordinary people — especially the young — after three years of suffocation. From Beijing, Shanghai, Chengdu, Guangzhou, Nanjing, Wuhan, Changsha… to New York, London, Melbourne, Tokyo… At that moment, the world saw that Chinese people were never lacking courage — only opportunities to show it. People chanted publicly, for the first time in three years: “We want freedom, not lockdowns”, “We want dignity, not lies”, “We want a normal life, not a new Cultural Revolution”, “We want ballots, not dictatorship”. (heard in some cities) It was the most open and genuine expression of public will in decades.

III. The Costs the CCP Must Face: History Does Not Forgive or Forget

The cost is not revenge, but accountability — a historical ledger that must be answered.

Accountability for the dead.Victims of fires, vehicle crashes, denied medical care, Fangcang neglect — all deserve truth, investigation, and responsibility.

Accountability for abuse of public power.Health codes politicized, lockdowns militarized, transfers mechanized, “one-size-fits-all” enforcement normalized — this was not “overzealous implementation,” but systemic failure.

Accountability for information suppression.Help-seeking posts were deleted, death counts hidden, citizen videos censored, state media repeating “overall under control.” Censorship saved no lives — it only erased knowledge.

Accountability for violating basic human rights.Freedom of movement, medical access, privacy, oversight — all were driven to historic lows.A government that strips rights “for public health” will continue stripping them after the emergency ends.

Accountability for systemic dysfunction.Decision-making was opaque; no independent press existed; law was subordinate to political orders; science subordinated to ideology. Without reform, deeper crises await.

IV. To Remember the Movement Is Not to Create Enemies, but to Prevent Repetition

A society that cannot discuss mistakes will repeat them.A government that never accepts responsibility will grow increasingly indifferent to human life.

The white paper symbolizes not provocation, but transparency, accountability, rule of law, and human dignity — the true foundations of a civilized state.

V. The White Paper Endures, and History Remembers

Authorities can censor social media, delete posts, block videos, arrest protesters —but they cannot delete history itself. Welded doors, blocked fire exits, residents dragged away at night, pregnant women denied care, families unable to escape fires, bank depositors assigned red codes, children taken into isolation, erased help-seeking posts — all these happened, and none will disappear. Three years later, we still say:

The white paper remains. The truth persists. The people remember. History will demand answers. Responsibility will be pursued.

——当正常生活被视为威胁，一个国家就出了问题。

作者：彭小梅
编辑：李晶 责任编辑：侯改英 校对：程筱筱

三年前的那个冬天，我至今忘不了。那个时刻，中国几十个城市的年轻人站在寒风里，手里只举着一张白纸。没有口号、没有组织、没有计划，只是白纸。我后来在北京亮马桥的视频里看到，一个男生只是连说三句“我们只要正常生活！” 几秒后就被便衣警察拖走；在上海的乌鲁木齐中路，有人像赌命一样喊出那几个“不能说的字母”；在成都，一位女生举着白纸质问警察：“我拿空白的纸，你们也害怕吗？……” 那不是所谓的“境外煽动”，那是人被逼到忍无可忍后发出的最原始的声音。

这一切的核心，其实只有一句话：在那个时期，中国人想过正常生活都视为是一种威胁。

疫情和封控是中国共产党对中国人民从个体到集体的双重伤害。它不是一句“防疫需要”能解释的。它是一扇扇被焊死的铁门，一条条被堵住的消防通道；是你站在电梯口按按钮，却不知道今天能不能走出小区大门的荒诞。

那三年，上班不是权利，而是审批；买药不是日常，而是靠组织安排；生病，不是意外，而是给社区添麻烦；红码，可以让你瞬间从一个公民变成失去自由的不可接触者。我们不仅没有自由，更是在请求——不要被当成牲畜一样管理。

乌鲁木齐那场火是一记砸在全国人的胸口的重锤。火焰烧到窗前，视频里求救声清晰到让人无法呼吸。但记者会上，官员们却轻描淡写地说：“居民自救能力太差。”那一句话，比火更令人窒息。那不是口误，不是表达不当，只是赤裸裸的侮辱。是一个独裁政权对人民的生命、尊严得彻底轻蔑。

人们压抑三年的情绪，就是在那一刻彻底裂开的。

白纸运动不是为了反，而是为了问。“为什么人民连问一句话都不行？”、“为什么不让消防通道保持畅通？”、“为什么我们不能决定什么时候出门？” 白纸上什么都没有，但它挡不住每个人的问题。这一点才是最让权力害怕的。你把白纸举起来，警察没法抓“内容”，但可以抓你的人。这个荒谬的现实本身，就是白纸存在的理由。

那几天，勇气像传染病一样迅速蔓延。不是因为年轻人突然变成英雄，而是因为恐惧本身被看穿了。原来不是我一个人在怕，是所有人都在怕。那就说明问题不在我。

现实是无比残酷。李康梦—19岁的学生，因为举白纸、喊口号，被判刑三年。黄雅玲，在参加重庆白纸运动后，至今失联没有任何公开消息。还有更多名字我们都不知道的人，被抓、被训诫、被挂档案、被学校劝退、被公司辞退。他们没有喊革命口号，他们只是在说：“我们不要再被封门；我们想看病；我们不想再有人被活活困死。” 如果这些表达都能被定罪，那这个国家的问题绝不来自她的人民。

白纸运动三周年纪念之际，我作为中国民主党的一员，参加了这次中国民主党全委会第765次茉莉花行动—“白纸未言 心声已传”。洛杉矶中国领事馆前没有中共便衣警察，没有红马甲防疫人员，没有大喇叭，但大家手里那张白纸却异常沉。参加活动的所有人头戴白头巾，有人读出被捕者名字，旁边有人录视频。

我在领馆前再次呐喊出：“不要核酸要吃饭、不要封控要自由、不要领袖要选票、不要奴隶要公民。” 此刻我心情澎湃，激动到不能自已。我们能在海外举白纸，是因为国内有人替我们付出了高昂的代价。我们今天能开口，是因为有人被迫闭上了嘴。白纸在海外不是象征而是证词。中国人不是不反抗，而是代价太高。

国家何时开始裂开的？不是起于从白纸运动，而是从“正常生活被视为威胁”的那一刻开始。政权把人的正常需求：出门、吃饭、看病都归为影响稳定的不安因素。把寻求真相的人视为麻烦；把表达意见的人视为敌人；把爱国和服从划成等号；把社会变成一个人人彼此警惕的大监狱。这不是人民在分裂中国，而是权力在把国家一寸寸掏空。

三年过去，街头安静了，视频没了，白纸的照片被删了。但那几天不是幻觉，也不是梦。它是一个国家的人民被压到极限后的集体觉醒。只要还有人肯举白纸、读名字、讲真相，白纸运动就不会被历史抹掉。

自由不会从天上掉下来。它永远是普通人一点一点推开的。推开的人里面有学生、有工人、有父母、有逃亡者——也有我们。

大埔火灾死难者追悼会

悼亡魂 求真相 究责任

地点：自由雕塑公园 37570 Yermo Rd，Yermo，CA92398

时间：12/06/2025（Sat）星期六 2：00 PM

请穿黑衣及自携白花到场

地点：自由雕塑公园 37570 Yermo Rd，Yermo，CA92398

时间：12/06/2025（Sat）星期六 2：00 PM

作者：李尊轶
编辑：李聪玲   责任编辑：罗志飞   校对：熊辩   翻译：刘芳

唐荆陵和我是湖北省原江陵县弥市中学八九届同学。他是理科学霸，当年以江陵县高考状元的身份考入上海交通大学。我是文科学渣、调皮兼“不听话”，八九年春季转学到松滋县沙道观中学参加高考，此后啥也不是。

一

2016年1月，唐荆陵被广州市中级人民法院以“煽动颠覆国家政权罪”判处有期徒刑五年，他因为替他人维权而身陷囹圄，我不禁感慨万千，回想极权专制统治下普罗大众遭遇的种种不幸与灾难，再看唐荆陵为了追求社会的公平与正义、为了大家能有一张决定自己命运的选票，不仅被政府吊销了律师执业资格证书，还被构陷进了监狱遭受严厉酷刑和非人虐待。我们这些在外面暂时自由的人应该为他做点什么，哪怕替他发声说几句，也算是能对得住自己的良心，将来也能面对这位播撒民主火种的英雄。

有道是，我做不了英雄，但我可以追随英雄；我做不了勇士，但我愿意为勇士呐喊！在这个高强度遏制言论表达几近窒息的社会里，在微信朋友圈发出声援，虽然实在是个冒险的行为，但也是对蒙难者的一种支持！

2017年8月，笔者在微信朋友圈发文字和图片声援唐荆陵。

二

中共自建政起从来没有关心过老百姓的健康，制造的人道灾难数不胜数，其中假疫苗、毒疫苗致残致死，对受害者家庭造成重大打击。由于受害者面对的是中共政权和医疗系统，维权申诉成功的机率几乎为零，导致一般的律师都不愿意接这类案件。唐荆陵基于自己的价值立场和职业理念，长期关注政府滥权、公共安全、司法不公等主题，对于弱势群体在公共事件中遭遇到的不公更愿意基于人权与法制的因素提供法律援助，结果遭致中共政府残酷打击和迫害。作为一个良知尚存的人，我应该无条件地声援他。

2018年7月，笔者在微信朋友圈就中国假疫苗、毒疫苗的危害声援唐荆陵。

三

唐荆陵在被羁押与服刑的那些年，他的家人承受了巨大的精神压力，经历了难以言说的煎熬。他的母亲因长期担忧儿子的处境，情绪不稳定，健康状况日渐恶化。病情加重时，她始终惦记着儿子，可直到她生命的最后一刻，都没能如愿再见到唐荆陵一面。这种遗憾，对于一个母亲来说，是难以言说的痛；对于其他知情人而言，如磐石一般沉重，压在每个人的心底。唐荆陵的妻子也因为持续的压力与安全风险，不得不离开中国，到美国寻求庇护，从此劳燕分飞、天各一方。对于他年过八旬的老父亲来说，短时间内接连承受妻子离世、儿子坐监、儿媳远走他乡——这不仅意味着家庭的支离破碎，更像是生命里最重要的三个支柱被同时抽空。老父亲独自面对空荡的屋子，那种深沉的孤独与绝望、无处诉说的委屈与思念，只能默默地压在心里。可以想象，经历了如此沉重的命运冲击，老人家的内心一定已千疮百孔。

正因为如此，我心里始终惦记着唐荆陵的父亲。总觉得应该抽时间去看看老人家。哪怕只是陪他坐一会儿、听他说几句心里的话，也许能让他知道，这个世界上仍有人记得他们一家所承受的苦难。对这样一位满身隐痛的父亲而言，一个愿意上门的朋友，也许就是一份来得迟却依然重要的温暖。

2018年8月，笔者专程回荆州看望唐荆陵的父亲表达问候。

四

经过漫长的等待，终于迎来了那一天——2019 年 4 月 29 日，唐荆陵获释的日子。得知当天下午广州的国保已将他送上返回荆州的火车，而我恰好因胰腺病变在荆州住院治疗，于是便做出决定，无论如何都要去荆州火车站迎接他。这不仅仅是一趟车站之行，更是为那些被迫中断的岁月做一个见证。

我匆匆忙忙赶到火车站，已是临近高铁到站时间，我扶着出站口的栏杆，焦急地守望着站台出口。待到人群临近，望着每一个走出的身影，心跳随着人流的涌动一点一点加快。本来，我想制作一块“欢迎唐荆陵回家”的标语牌，高高地举过头顶，让他一出站就能看到。然而，病痛带来的虚弱让我感到力不从心，只能默默站在那里等待。我想象着他出现那一刻——从“小监狱”回到“大监狱”，但至少走在相对自由的空气里。然而人群渐渐稀疏，直到最后一个旅客离开，我也没有看到他的身影。一阵焦急涌上心头，我赶紧拨电话询问，这才知道他早已经出了站，在大厅外等我。

我顾不得病痛，立即向大厅外奔去，终于在人群中找到了他。他比我印象中更消瘦，灯光下肤色也更显苍白，但神情沉静稳重。我挤过人群将他热情拥抱，他就双手轻拍我后背的机会凑近我耳边小声提醒了一句：“有人，快走。”我这才意识到，危险其实一直在我们周围！我连忙松开他，抓起那箱他从监狱带回来的沉甸甸的书籍扛上肩头——那是他在监狱里最后的精神陪伴。我们匆匆向站前大道走去，步伐不敢停顿，直到走出广场才下意识回头观察，确信没有人跟着，这才拐到凤鸣大道西侧的广告牌旁停了下来。

原来，当天两名广州国保在南站把他押上高铁后，立刻坐飞机赶来荆州，在出站口时就站在我的身后。他不敢抬头，更不敢多看我，只能用行李箱挡住自己的脸——不是为了他自己，而是为了保护我，不让我因为一个“多余的眼神”而遭人盯上。

忽然我明白了唐荆陵在沉默中背负着怎样的压力，也明白了我为什么非来不可。这是一次几乎不能问候、不能交谈、甚至不能正眼相看的迎接。却恰恰因此——它显得格外沉重，格外朴实，也格外值得铭记。

五

那一刻，我思绪万千，我连续七年时间到湖北省黄冈市政府门口举牌抗议团风县政府的人权暴行，一度还到中共湖北省委大门外举牌抗议。最初是给黄冈市政府接待人员口述诉求要求解决问题，然而没有结果；然后在黄冈政府门口站立着双手举着标语表达抗议，无果；又坐高凳上、站在高凳上举着标语表达抗议；被黄冈公安局胜利街派出所警察收走标语后，依然站上高凳作举牌抗议姿势表达对政府侵犯人权的不满。

中共警察将我拽到值班室，威胁我说，要调取监控视频取证将我抓起来，我回答说：“好！你把我抓起来就成全了我：坐共产党的牢，无上光荣！”有人问我，你真的不怕坐牢吗？扪心自问，我怎么会不怕坐牢呢？仅湖北省的勇士秦永敏、王宝龙、唐荆陵、郭飞雄、丁家喜、刘家财、鲍乃刚、刘艳丽、许光利、杜导斌、刘飞越、袁奉初、龚圣亮、毛善春……一条条鲜活的生命，遭酷刑、被监禁，高墙里、电网下，无休无止的恐惧，我能不害怕吗？尤其是我的好友刘家财，他的言论远比我温和，时至今日已经三年多的时间，仿佛从人间蒸发，杳无音讯。这种恐惧如影随行在我的心里挥之不去，当然这也坚定了我坚持为他发声的信念，也是促成我出走流亡的原因。

那一刻，我也不禁想到我的表哥周登明，因为他的父亲、我的姨爹周德全的冤案，从1978年至2020年去世的四十余年时间，一直前往北京向中共中央政府索要公道，表哥在晚年经常念叨他与父亲的最后时光：我跟父亲一起坐牢，要不是我还没有成年，共产党也会把我枪毙掉的。他也常老泪纵横、情绪激动叫嚷：“共产党叫老子陪杀场啊！”对于表哥而言“陪杀场”远不是听到的枪响声、父亲倒地的“扑通”声，也不止是闻到的硝烟味、父亲身体的血腥味、屎尿味，以及看到的枪击扬起的尘土、父亲肌肉痉挛抽动的躯体和枪口处汨汨流出的鲜血。那是父子情深的撕心裂肺，更是对中国共产党残暴冷酷、嗜血好杀、惨绝人寰的无差别屠戮的反文明反人类本性的无声控诉——中华民族和中国人民百年来的苦难根源就是中国共产党，是中共的流氓本性和邪教本质！

中国共产党必须灭亡！

中华人民共和国必须毁灭！

Ninth moon, ascending the heights, reminiscing about my brothers of the Tang

Author: Li Zunyi
Editor: Li Congling Executive Editor: Luo Zhifei Proofreading: Xiong Bian Translation: Liu Fang

Abstract: This article reflects on the author’s friendship with Tang Jingling, recounting Tang’s persecution by the Chinese Communist Party for his human rights advocacy, the suffering endured by his family, and the author’s repeated efforts to voice support, visit Tang’s aging father, and greet Tang upon his release from prison. The author also describes his own experiences of repression and the wrongful persecution of his relatives, which deepened his understanding of the CCP’s brutality and strengthened his commitment to freedom and justice.

Tang Jingling and I were classmates in the 1989 cohort at Mishi Middle School in the former Jiangling County of Hubei Province. He was a science prodigy who entered Shanghai Jiao Tong University as the top scorer in the county’s college entrance exam. I, on the other hand, was a mediocre liberal arts student—mischievous and “disobedient.” In the spring of 1989, I transferred to Sandaoguan Middle School in Songzi County to take the exam, and after that, I amounted to nothing.

I

In January 2016, Tang Jingling was sentenced to five years in prison by the Guangzhou Intermediate People’s Court on the charge of “inciting subversion of state power.” He had been jailed simply for defending the rights of others. I was flooded with emotion, thinking of the many tragedies suffered by ordinary people under a totalitarian regime. Tang pursued fairness and justice for society. He wanted every citizen to have a vote to determine their own destiny. For that simple vision, the authorities revoked his law license, fabricated charges, and sent him to prison, where he endured severe torture and inhumane treatment. Those of us who still enjoy temporary freedom should do something for him—say a few words, raise a voice—so that we can face our own conscience and honor this man who planted the seeds of democracy.

As the saying goes: I may not be able to become a hero, but I can follow one. I may not be a warrior, but I can cry out for the warrior! In this suffocating environment where expression is ruthlessly suppressed, voicing support on WeChat Moments was dangerous—but it was also a stand for the persecuted.

In August 2017, I posted words and images on WeChat Moments to voice support for Tang Jingling.

II

Since its founding, the CCP has never cared about the health of the people and has produced countless humanitarian disasters. Fake and toxic vaccines crippled and killed children, inflicting unbearable suffering on families. Facing the CCP regime and its medical system, victims have nearly zero chance of justice, and most lawyers do not dare touch such cases. Yet out of his values and professional ethics, Tang Jingling spent years focusing on government abuse, public safety, and judicial injustice. For the vulnerable victims of public tragedies, he provided legal aid grounded in human rights and the rule of law. For this, he was brutally persecuted. As someone with a conscience, I felt I must support him unconditionally.

In July 2018, I again posted on WeChat Moments calling attention to the toxic vaccine scandal and expressing support for Tang.

III

During Tang Jingling’s years in detention and imprisonment, his family endured tremendous psychological pressure and unspeakable suffering. His mother, consumed by worry over her son’s condition, experienced emotional instability and declining health. Her condition worsened until the very end, when she passed away without seeing her son one last time. For a mother, this was an unspeakable sorrow. For those who knew their story, it was a weight like a boulder pressing on the heart. Tang’s wife, also under continuous pressure and safety risks, had to leave China and seek asylum in the United States. Husband and wife were forced apart, separated by oceans. For Tang’s aging father, now over eighty, the death of his wife, his son’s imprisonment, and his daughter-in-law’s departure meant the collapse of all three pillars of his life. He faced the empty home alone, burdened with loneliness, anguish, and silent grief. One can imagine the wounds carved into his heart.

Because of this, I often thought about visiting him. Even sitting with him quietly, listening to him speak—perhaps it might offer a small comfort, a reminder that the world had not forgotten the suffering of his family. To a father carrying such deep pain, a visitor could be a warmth long delayed but still precious.

In August 2018, I returned to Jingzhou specifically to visit and pay respects to Tang’s father.

IV

After a long wait, the day finally came—April 29, 2019, the day Tang Jingling was released. I was hospitalized in Jingzhou for pancreatic issues at the time, but when I learned that Guangzhou’s state security officers had put him on a train back to Jingzhou, I made up my mind: no matter what, I would go to the station to welcome him.

I hurried to the train station close to arrival time. Leaning on the railing by the exit, I anxiously watched for him. As passengers streamed out, my heartbeat quickened with each face. I had originally wanted to prepare a sign that read “Welcome Home, Tang Jingling” and hold it high so he could see it immediately. But my illness left me weak, and I could only stand there silently waiting. I imagined the moment he would appear—leaving the “small prison” only to return to the “big prison,” yet at least breathing freer air. But as the crowd thinned and the last passenger left, he still had not appeared. Anxiety surged. I called someone and learned he had already exited and was waiting outside the hall.

Ignoring my pain, I rushed out and finally found him. He was thinner than I remembered, his skin pale under the lights, but his expression calm and steady. I pushed through the crowd and embraced him. He lightly patted my back and whispered quickly into my ear: “They’re here. Let’s go.” Only then did I realize the danger surrounding us. I released him and grabbed the heavy box of books he carried from prison—his last spiritual companions inside those walls. We hurried toward the avenue, not daring to stop, turning only after we had left the square to make sure no one was following us.

It turned out two Guangzhou state security officers had boarded the train with him at the South Station and then flown to Jingzhou to wait for him at the exit. They were standing right behind me. Tang did not dare look up at me or even glance in my direction. He used his suitcase to cover his face—not to protect himself, but to protect me, so that even an accidental look would not put me in danger.

In that moment, I understood the weight Tang carried in silence. I also understood why I had to be there. This was a welcome without greetings, without conversation, without even eye contact. And precisely because of that, it was unforgettable—solemn, heavy, and deeply meaningful.

V

At that moment, countless memories flooded my mind. For seven years, I repeatedly went to the Huanggang City Government to protest the human rights abuses committed by Tuanfeng County officials. I even went to the gate of the CCP Hubei Provincial Committee to hold up signs in protest. First, I tried to present my claims verbally to the reception office—no result. Then I stood at the gate with signs—no result. Later I stood on a high stool, holding my signs aloft. When police from Shengli Street Station took away my signs, I continued standing on the stool, using my posture alone to protest the government’s violations of human rights.

The police dragged me into their duty room and threatened to use surveillance footage to arrest me. I told them: “Fine! Arrest me. Being jailed by the Communist Party—what an honor!” People asked me: “Are you really not afraid of prison?” Of course I was. How could I not be? Hubei’s brave people—Qin Yongmin, Wang Baolong, Tang Jingling, Guo Feixiong, Ding Jiaxi, Liu Jia-cai, Bao Naigang, Liu Yanli, Xu Guangli, Du Daobin, Liu Feiyue, Yuan Fengchu, Gong Shengliang, Mao Shanchun… so many living souls were tortured and imprisoned. Behind high walls, under electrified fences, in endless fear—how could I not be afraid? Especially my good friend Liu Jia-cai—his words were far milder than mine, yet he vanished three years ago and has not been heard from since. That fear haunts me, but also strengthens my resolve to speak for him. It was one of the reasons I chose to flee China.

I also thought of my cousin Zhou Dengming. Because of the wrongful case of his father—my uncle Zhou Dequan—he spent more than forty years traveling to Beijing to seek justice. In his later years, he often recalled his final moments with his father: “I was in prison with him. If I had been an adult then, the Communist Party would have executed me too.” He would break down in tears and cry out, “The Communist Party dragged me to the killing ground!” For him, the “killing ground” was not only the gunshot, the thud of his father’s body hitting the earth, the smell of gunpowder, the blood, the stench of death, the dust rising from the bullet’s impact, or the spasms of his father’s body. It was the tearing of a bond between father and son. It was an unspoken indictment of a regime that is brutal, bloodthirsty, and inhuman. The root of the Chinese people’s suffering for the last century is the Chinese Communist Party—its thuggery, its cult-like nature, its hostility to civilization and humanity.

The Chinese Communist Party must perish.The People’s Republic of China must fall.

——风雨中声援张盼成、张展、彭立发

作者：马群

编辑：张宇   责任编辑：侯改英   校对：程筱筱   翻译：彭小梅

2025年11月15日，中国民主党洛杉矶委员会、中国民主党山东工委联合举行第764次茉莉花行动。

下午3点，大雨不停，但示威者依然准时到场。主持人马群、杨皓在风雨中以声音与勇气为受难者发出声援的呼喊：“今天我们再次聚集在共匪的领事馆门口，是为了真相、为了自由、为了勇气而声援呼喊！感谢大家冒着风雨前来声援良心政治犯-张盼成、张展、彭立发。我们再次站到这里，就是要告诉世界：追求真相不是犯罪，争取自由也不是犯罪”。

这里有必要简略介绍下这几位英雄：

张盼成，来自中国甘肃的公民行动者，多次因发声被拘押。他说过：“公民应有发声的权利，不应该以沉默换取苟安。”这句话在风雨中再次回响，震动人心。

张展，因报道武汉疫情真相被重判四年的公民记者。她曾说：“如果说真话要付出代价，那我愿意。”雨水湿透了标语，但她的名字清晰而坚定地写在每一块海报上。

彭立发：四通桥上点燃了白纸运动的火种。他悬挂在桥上的那条大字横幅——【不要核酸要吃饭，不要封控要自由】。这横幅像火种般在无数人心的旷野上燃气抗争的烈火。虽然他被强行带走、被消失，但雨中的示威者用颤抖的声音喊出他的名字，使他如丰碑一般屹立——不被遗忘，不被抹去。

有人在雨中用身躯护着扩音器免遭淋湿；有人没有雨具却站定在队伍中，湿透了外套也毫不在意。雨点打在伞上、打在横幅上打在每一位参加者的脸上。风雨，反而成了这场行动更有力量的背景。

组织者表示：“政治良心犯不是颠覆者，他们是为国家揭露真相、为人民争取自由的良心公民。雨可以淋湿我们的衣服，但淋不灭我们对自由的渴望。当更多人选择站出来，真相终会照亮黑暗，自由终将归来。”

胡德旺、周恒、马群、李光芒、胡景、李尊轶、倪世成等人纷纷发言“当说真话成为罪，当表达变成奢侈，我们每个人都可能成为下一个被噤声的人。”他们呼吁国际社会关注中国人权，要求释放所有良心犯，也向三位勇士致敬。他们还表示：“政治良心犯不是颠覆者，他们是为国家揭露真相、为人民争取自由的良心公民。雨可以淋湿我们的衣服，但淋不灭我们对自由的渴望。当更多人选择站出来，真相终会照亮黑暗，自由终将归来。”

雨会停，黑暗也会停。雨水冰凉，却浇不灭大家的热情；寒风刺骨，却吹不散坚守真相与自由的决心。现场口号嘹亮、激情澎湃，象征着在黑暗中依旧闪烁的公民勇气。第764次茉莉花行动在风雨中落幕，也在风雨中显得更加坚定有力。下一次，我们仍将继续站立！

Pursuing Truth and Freedom Is Not a Crime— In the Wind and Rain, We Stand with Zhang Pancheng, Zhang Zhan, and Peng Lifa

Author: Ma Qun

Editor: Zhang Yu   Executive Editor: Hou Gaiying   Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao   Translator: Peng Xiaomei

Abstract

In heavy rain in Los Angeles, the author and members of the China Democracy Party gathered to voice their solidarity with Zhang Pancheng, Zhang Zhan, Peng Lifa—for truth, for freedom, and for courage.

On November 15, 2025, the Los Angeles Committee of the China Democracy Party, together with the Shandong Committee of the same party, held the 764th Jasmine Action.

At 3 p.m., despite the pouring rain, demonstrators arrived on time. Hosts Ma Qun and Yang Hao raised their voices against the storm, calling out on behalf of those suffering under repression: “Today, we gather once again at the gate of the CCP consulate. We are here for truth, for freedom, and for courage. Thank you all for braving the wind and rain to support the prisoners of conscience—Zhang Pancheng, Zhang Zhan, and Peng Lifa. We stand here again to tell the world: Seeking truth is not a crime. Fighting for freedom is not a crime.”

Here is a brief introduction to these three courageous individuals:

Zhang Pancheng

A citizen activist from Gansu who has been repeatedly detained for speaking out.He once said: “Citizens should have the right to speak. One should not exchange silence for temporary safety.” In the storm, his words echoed again powerful and stirring.

Zhang Zhan

A citizen journalist sentenced to four years for reporting the truth about COVID-19 in Wuhan. She once declared: “If telling the truth comes with a price, I’m willing to pay it.” The rain soaked the posters, but her name remained clear and unshaken on every sign.

Peng Lifa (the ‘Bridge Man’)

He lit the first spark of the White Paper Movement. On Beijing’s Sitong Bridge, he hung the banner: “We want food, not PCR tests. We want freedom, not lockdowns.”

This banner ignited a wildfire of resistance across countless hearts. Peng Lifa has been disappeared, but in the rain, demonstrators shouted his name with trembling voices— refusing to let him be erased.

Some stood in the rain shielding the loudspeaker with their bodies; some had no rain gear but remained firmly in the crowd; their coats soaked through, yet no one stepped away. Raindrops struck umbrellas, banners, and faces. The storm itself became the backdrop that gave this action even greater strength.

Organizers stated: “Prisoners of conscience are not subversives. They are citizens of conscience who expose the truth for their country and fight for the freedom of the people. Rain may drench our clothes, but it cannot extinguish our desire for liberty.When more people choose to stand up, truth will pierce the darkness—freedom will eventually return.”

Speakers including Hu Dewang, Zhou Heng, Ma Qun, Li Guangmang, Hu Jing, Li Zunyi, Ni Shicheng, and others shared their views: “When telling the truth becomes a crime, when expression becomes a luxury, any one of us could be the next person silenced.” They called on the international community to pay close attention to China’s human rights crisis, demanded the release of all prisoners of conscience, and paid tribute to the three brave individuals. They repeated: “Political prisoners of conscience are not subversives. They reveal truth for the nation, and fight for freedom for the people. Rain can soak us, but it cannot wash away our longing for liberty.When more voices rise, truth will illuminate the darkness, and freedom will return.”

The rain will stop, and so will the darkness. The cold rain could not quench the participants’ passion; the bitter wind could not scatter their resolve to defend truth and freedom. The chants remained loud and powerful— a symbol of civic courage shining in the midst of darkness. The 764th Jasmine Action concluded in the storm,but the storm only made it stronger, more unshakable. Next time—we will stand here again.