作者：Chang Kun

编辑：韩立华

校对：毛一炜

翻译：戈冰

其实，现在的五四青年节，早就被过成了一场讽刺的“政治秀”。

一百多年前，那时候的年轻人冲上街头，是为了反对独裁、追求民主，是敢跟腐朽的权力叫板的。那时的“五四”是觉醒的标志，是独立人格的体现。可现在的中共，一边把“五四”挂在嘴边，一边却在拼命掐灭年轻人的独立思考。他们嘴里的“青年精神”，说白了就是四个字：听话、顺从。

你看看现在的年轻人，过的是什么日子？他们在学校里被灌输千篇一律的口号，在社交媒体上说句真话可能就会被封号甚至“喝茶”。本该是最有锐气、最敢质疑的年纪，却被权力修理成了唯唯诺诺、只管低头干活的“螺丝钉”。政府一方面在宣传片里画大饼，吹嘘盛世，把年轻人比作“后浪”；另一方面，却对高房价、就业难以及那让人窒息的“内卷”视而不见。只要你敢抱怨两句生活不公，或者想为社会正义发声，一顶“境外势力”或者“寻衅滋事”的大帽子马上就扣过来。

最荒唐的是，一个靠着学生运动起家的政权，现在成了世界上最害怕学生运动、最恐惧年轻人聚集的政权。他们把五四精神里最核心的“批判”和“反抗”给阉割了，换成了空洞的“爱党”和“效忠”。他们不需要你有灵魂，只需要你当一个没有思想的“耗材”，一个在宏大叙事里自我感动的工具人。

这种纪念方式，本质上是对历史的暴力绑架。他们用高音喇叭赞美青年，实际上是为了掩盖那些被消失的声音。当“德先生”被关进监狱，“赛先生”被用来搞全民监控，这个所谓的节日就成了一场大型的政治欺骗秀。

如果一个社会只允许一种声音存在，如果年轻人连质疑权力的勇气都要被当作犯罪，那所谓的“五四”就只剩下一具被权力填充的僵尸。真正的五四精神，绝对不是给权力唱赞歌，而应该是对不公说“不”，是对真理的执着。在这个被谎言和监控包裹的节日里，拒绝被洗脑、保持独立的人格、看清那双操控木偶的手，就是一个年轻人对这个荒诞时代最强有力的控诉。如果青春意味着服从，那这种青春就是廉价的劳动力；只有当青春意味着自由，五四才真正属于年轻人。

Reflections on May Fourth

Author: Chang Kun

Editor: Han Lihua

Proofreader: Mao Yiwei

Translator: Ge Bing

In truth, today’s May Fourth Youth Day has long since devolved into a farcical “political spectacle.”

Over a century ago, the young people of that era took to the streets to oppose dictatorship and pursue democracy; they dared to challenge a corrupt regime. Back then, the May Fourth Movement was a symbol of awakening and an embodiment of independent character. Yet today, the Chinese Communist Party pays lip service to the May Fourth Movement while desperately stifling young people’s independent thinking. The “youth spirit” they speak of boils down to four words: obedience and compliance.

Just look at the lives young people lead today. In school, they’re indoctrinated with cookie-cutter slogans; on social media, speaking a single truth might get their accounts banned or even land them in for a “chat” with the authorities. At an age when they should be at their sharpest and most questioning, they’ve been molded by the powers that be into meek “cogs in the machine” who just keep their heads down and work. On one hand, the government paints a rosy picture in its propaganda videos, boasting of a golden age and likening young people to the “rising tide”; on the other, it turns a blind eye to sky-high housing prices, employment difficulties, and the suffocating “internal competition.” The moment you dare to complain about life’s injustices or speak out for social justice, the label of “foreign forces” or “picking quarrels and provoking trouble” is immediately slapped on you.

The most absurd thing is that a regime that rose to power on the back of student movements has now become the regime in the world most afraid of student movements and most terrified of young people gathering. They have castrated the core elements of the May Fourth Spirit—“criticism” and ‘resistance’—replacing them with hollow slogans of “loving the Party” and “loyalty.” They don’t need you to have a soul; they just need you to be a mindless “disposable resource,” a tool that moves itself to tears within their grand narrative.

This form of commemoration is, in essence, a violent hijacking of history. They use loudspeakers to praise the youth, but in reality, it is to cover up the voices that have been silenced. When “Mr. Democracy” is locked up in prison and “Mr. Science” is used to implement mass surveillance, this so-called holiday becomes nothing more than a massive political deception.

If a society allows only one voice to exist, if young people are treated as criminals for even having the courage to question authority, then the so-called “May Fourth” is nothing more than a zombie stuffed with power. The true spirit of May Fourth is absolutely not singing hymns to power, but saying “no” to injustice and holding fast to the truth. On this holiday shrouded in lies and surveillance, refusing to be brainwashed, maintaining an independent spirit, and seeing through the hands manipulating the puppets—these are the most powerful acts of defiance a young person can offer against this absurd era. If youth means obedience, then such youth is nothing more than cheap labor; only when youth means freedom does the May Fourth Movement truly belong to the young.

作者：杨长兵

编辑：李晶 校对：王滨 翻译：戈冰

近年来，“躺平”一词迅速在中文互联网传播。从最初带有自嘲意味的网络表达，逐渐演变成许多年轻人共同的情绪符号。它并不是一种组织化运动，也并非明确的政治主张，而更像是在高压力社会环境中的一种被动回应。

但近来，一些官方或半官方叙事开始将“躺平文化”与“境外势力”“意识形态渗透”甚至“国家安全风险”联系在一起。原本属于社会情绪层面的现象，逐渐被纳入“安全化叙事”的框架之中。这种变化，也引发了外界对于“社会情绪政治化”的讨论。

事实上，“躺平”并不是突然出现的意识形态现象，而是长期社会压力积累后的结果。过去十多年，中国社会竞争持续加剧。高房价、高教育成本、就业压力、青年失业率上升，以及越来越明显的阶层固化，让许多人开始重新思考“努力与回报”的关系。

与此同时，高强度劳动逐渐常态化。互联网行业长期存在“996”现象，制造业超时劳动普遍存在，而外卖、网约车等平台经济，更将收入与劳动时间直接绑定：跑得越久，收入越高；接单越多，平台权重越高；一旦停下来，收入便迅速下降。在这种结构下，“休息”本身甚至都会带来焦虑。

过去，“奋斗”意味着更稳定的生活与更清晰的上升空间；但当竞争不断加剧、回报却越来越不确定时，一部分年轻人开始主动降低欲望，以减少投入、退出竞争的方式缓解长期内耗。因此，“躺平”本质上更像是一种心理防御机制，而非某种政治对抗。

从社会学角度来看，这与日本“低欲望社会”、韩国“放弃一代”等现象并无本质区别。其核心，都是个体在面对结构性压力时产生的自我调适。但问题在于，当一种社会情绪被迅速纳入“风险叙事”之后，它的性质也随之改变——从“需要理解的问题”，变成了“需要治理的对象”。而将所有消极情绪归因于“外部势力”，也容易忽视一个更基本的现实：社会情绪首先来源于社会内部，而并非外部输入。

如果年轻人长期面临高工时、低安全感与上升困难，那么疲惫感本身就会自然产生，并不需要任何力量刻意“制造”。“内卷”之所以成为高频词汇，也正因为越来越多人感受到：投入越来越大，但回报却越来越不确定。当长期奋斗无法换来稳定预期时，“躺平”便成为部分人降低内耗的一种选择。

一个社会中，当越来越多情绪只能通过“沉默退出”来表达时，真正值得关注的，也许并不是“躺平”本身，而是社会是否仍然保留对现实问题进行正常讨论与回应的空间。理解它，或许比定义它更重要。

When “Lying Flat” Is Defined as a Risk

Author: Yang Changbing

Editor: Li Jing Proofreader: Wang Bin Translator: Ge Bing

In recent years, the term “lying flat” has spread rapidly across the Chinese internet. What began as a self-deprecating online expression has gradually evolved into a shared emotional symbol for many young people. It is not an organized movement, nor is it a clear political stance; rather, it resembles a passive response to a high-pressure social environment.

Recently, however, some official or semi-official narratives have begun linking “lying-flat culture” to “foreign forces,” “ideological infiltration,” and even “national security risks.” A phenomenon that originally belonged to the realm of social sentiment has gradually been incorporated into the framework of “security-oriented narratives.” This shift has also sparked public debate regarding the “politicization of social emotions.”

In fact, “lying flat” is not a sudden ideological phenomenon, but rather the result of long-term accumulated social pressures. Over the past decade or so, social competition in China has intensified continuously. High housing prices, exorbitant education costs, employment pressures, rising youth unemployment, and increasingly evident social stratification have led many to rethink the relationship between “effort and reward.”

At the same time, high-intensity labor has gradually become the norm. The “996” work schedule has long been prevalent in the internet industry, and overtime is widespread in manufacturing. Meanwhile, the platform economy—encompassing food delivery and ride-hailing services—directly links income to working hours: the longer one works, the higher the income; the more orders accepted, the higher one’s platform ranking; and the moment one stops, income plummets. Under this structure, “rest” itself can even become a source of anxiety.

In the past, “striving” promised a more stable life and clearer prospects for upward mobility; but as competition intensifies while rewards grow increasingly uncertain, some young people are proactively scaling back their aspirations—reducing their investment and withdrawing from the race to alleviate long-term internal strain. Thus, “lying flat” is essentially a psychological defense mechanism rather than a form of political resistance.

From a sociological perspective, this phenomenon is fundamentally no different from Japan’s “low-desire society” or South Korea’s “generation of renunciation.” At their core, these are all forms of self-adjustment by individuals in the face of structural pressures. The problem, however, lies in the fact that once a social sentiment is rapidly incorporated into a “risk narrative,” its nature changes—from a “problem requiring understanding” to an “object requiring governance.” Furthermore, attributing all negative sentiments to “external forces” tends to overlook a more fundamental reality: social sentiments originate primarily from within society, not from external influences.

If young people are constantly confronted with long working hours, a lack of job security, and difficulties in advancing their careers, a sense of exhaustion will naturally arise on its own—it does not require any external force to deliberately “manufacture” it. The reason “involution” has become such a frequently used term is precisely because an increasing number of people feel that while their investment is growing, the returns are becoming increasingly uncertain. When long-term struggle fails to yield stable prospects, “lying flat” becomes a choice for some to reduce internal friction.

In a society where more and more emotions can only be expressed through “silent withdrawal,” what truly warrants attention may not be “lying flat” itself, but whether society still retains the space for normal discussion and response to real-world problems. Understanding it may be more important than defining it.

作者：陈军杰

编辑：李晶 校对：熊辩 翻译：戈冰

有些经历，不是过去，它会一直留在你心里。

在中国，我曾接触到家庭教会，一开始只是简单的参与。

后来我才慢慢明白，这并非“普通的宗教生活”。有些时候，聚会必须谨慎：声音不能太大，信息不能太公开，甚至连人与人之间的交流都需要保持一种“边界感”。那种感觉很难解释，不是单纯的害怕，而是一种长期存在的“自我收缩”。

你会习惯性地自我审查：

这句话能不能说？

这个话题安不安全？

这个表达会不会带来麻烦？

久而久之，信仰本该带来的释放感，变成了一种压抑的状态。甚至，我们被突如其来的公职人员带走接受调查，被审讯，被关押，被恐吓威胁，整个过程毫无尊严可言。

后来，我来到了美国。第一次走进教会时，我有一种强烈的不真实感：没有紧张的眼神，没有刻意压低的声音，没有需要提前预判风险的交流，只有很普通的人，在很自然地唱诗、祷告、分享。但这种“普通”，却让我震撼。因为我意识到，原来信仰可以不用防备，原来表达可以不用计算后果，原来一个人可以只是“相信”，而不需要同时“自我保护”。

有一次祷告时，我突然停住了。不是因为环境，而是因为我意识到：我过去很多年的信仰方式，其实是在“限制中进行的”。那一刻很安静，但心里很重。不是悲伤，而是一种迟来的清醒。

虽然我仍然在学习信仰，但和过去不同的是，我开始理解：信仰不仅是内心的坚持，也是一个人是否可以真实表达自己的状态。当表达是自由的，信仰才可能完整；当人不需要隐藏自己时，他才有可能真正面对自己。

我不想用简单的对比去解释两个世界，现实永远比语言复杂。但有一点对我来说已经很清楚：一个人是否能够自由地表达信仰，会深刻改变他的生命状态。不是表面改变，是内心结构的改变。

现在的我，更珍惜每一次聚会。也更理解“自由”这两个字的分量。不是因为它被谈论，而是因为它曾经缺席过。

I Once Believed in Silence; Now I Rediscover Faith in Freedom

Author: Chen Junjie

Editor: Li Jing Proofreader: Xiong Bian Translator: Ge Bing

Some experiences are not just part of the past; they remain in your heart forever.

In China, I once came into contact with house churches, and at first, my involvement was simple.

It was only later that I gradually realized this was not “ordinary religious life.” At times, gatherings required caution: voices couldn’t be too loud, messages couldn’t be too public, and even interactions between people had to maintain a certain “sense of boundaries.” That feeling is hard to explain—it wasn’t mere fear, but a long-standing “self-restraint.”

You find yourself habitually self-censoring:

Can I say this?

Is this topic safe?

Will this expression cause trouble?

Over time, the sense of liberation that faith should bring turns into a state of oppression. At times, we were even taken away by government officials without warning for investigation, interrogated, detained, and subjected to intimidation and threats—the entire process devoid of any dignity.

Later, I came to the United States. The first time I walked into a church, I felt a strong sense of unreality: no nervous glances, no voices deliberately lowered, no conversations requiring me to anticipate risks in advance—just ordinary people singing hymns, praying, and sharing in a very natural way. Yet this “ordinariness” shook me to the core. Because I realized that faith didn’t have to be guarded, that expression didn’t have to be calculated for consequences, and that a person could simply “believe” without simultaneously having to “protect themselves.”

Once, while praying, I suddenly stopped. It wasn’t because of the surroundings, but because I realized that for many years, my faith had actually been practiced “within constraints.” That moment was quiet, but my heart felt heavy. It wasn’t sadness, but a belated awakening.

Although I am still learning about faith, what’s different now is that I’ve begun to understand: faith is not only an inner conviction but also a reflection of whether a person can authentically express themselves. Only when expression is free can faith be whole; only when a person doesn’t need to hide themselves can they truly face themselves.

I don’t want to explain these two worlds through simple contrasts; reality is always more complex than words. But one thing is already very clear to me: whether a person can freely express their faith profoundly changes the state of their life. It’s not a superficial change, but a transformation of their inner structure.

Now, I cherish every gathering even more. I also understand the weight of the word “freedom” more deeply. Not because it’s being discussed, but because it was once absent.

作者：陈树庆 编辑：冯仍 校对：冯仍 翻译：戈冰

截至2025年12月25日，陈树庆已满60周岁3个月，实际已缴社会保险统筹24年4个月，超过了15年的最低缴费年限。在2025年12月办理退休手续时，杭州市拱墅区人力资源和社会保障局办事人员以陈树庆于2007年因煽动颠覆国家政权罪被判刑4年和2016年因颠覆国家政权罪被判刑10年6个月为由，将社保缴费年限扣除两项刑期累加年限后，剩余缴费仅9年多，已不足最低缴费年限，拒不办理陈树庆的退休手续。

交涉中陈树庆提出政府信息公开申请，2025年12月25日杭州市拱墅区人力资源和社会保障局工作人员陈祖朋在其办公室出具《杭州市拱墅区社会保险管理服务中心办理事项告知单》、《告知书》及《关于被判处有期徒刑人员基本养老保险有关问题的复函》（此件依申请公开）（浙人社函[2010]358号）。

陈树庆认为前述文件所依据的法律及政策明显适用不当或效力不足，于2026年1月27日就此事申请行政复议，拱墅区人民政府于2026年2月3日予以受理。复议期间因陈树庆提出规范性文件附带审查，审理期限依法中止及恢复导致延长。2026年5月1日，陈树庆收到杭州市拱墅区人民政府于2026年4月30日作出的《杭州市拱墅区人民政府行政复议决定书》杭拱政复[2026]67号。该《行政复议决定书》维持被申请人杭州市拱墅区人力资源和社会保障局于2025年12月25日做出的拒不办理陈树庆退休手续的《告知单》，表明陈树庆养老金维权在行政复议阶段受挫。

鉴于陈树庆本人及打工企业、家属等在过去缴纳或补交社保费用时从未遇到服刑期间不能缴费的告知；鉴于杭州市拱墅区政府在最终做出《行政复议决定书》中，一如被申请人杭州市拱墅区人力资源和社会保障局在本案中的具体行政行为，无视人社机关在办理陈树庆退休事项中的行政失信责任（政府行为的信赖利益保障原则），无视《中华人民共和国劳动法》、《中华人民共和国社会保险法》及其他任何一个具有《中华人民共和国立法法》所包含的具有法律地位与效力的规范性文件对于服刑期间的社保参与人并没有强制性条款明确排除，无视法院对于本案申请人已生效判决只明确剥夺人身及政治权利并没有剥夺社会经济权利（包括社会保险的权利），无视申请人服刑期间参加劳动及我国政府已经加入或批准具有国家法律效力的国际公约对于公民同工同酬及普遍无例外的社会保障要求；鉴于人社机关对于法律解释与适用时对己对人双重标准(同样是“范围”，自己超越法律明确规定的限制范围并严重违反同工同酬的法律要求大量使用劳务派遣，执法犯法；但以“服刑在教人员不属于职工基本养老的参保对象范围”，抵赖对陈树庆已经缴纳的社会保险责任。只许州官放火，不许百姓点灯？)。陈树庆不服，准备尽快提出行政诉讼，希望司法监督和权力制衡，在本案中能够发挥其应有的作用。

2026年5月1日

Chen Shuqing’s Administrative Review for Pension Rights Fails

Author: Chen Shuqing

Editor: Feng Reng Proofreader: Feng Reng Translator: Ge Bing

As of December 25, 2025, Chen Shuqing had reached the age of 60 years and 3 months, having actually contributed to the social insurance pool for 24 years and 4 months—exceeding the minimum contribution period of 15 years. When processing his retirement paperwork in December 2025, staff at the Gongshu District Human Resources and Social Security Bureau in Hangzhou deducted the cumulative length of his two prison terms—a four-year sentence in 2007 for inciting subversion of state power and a 10-year-and-6-month sentence in 2016 for subversion of state power—from his total social insurance contribution period. leaving him with only slightly more than 9 years of contributions—insufficient to meet the minimum requirement—and refused to process his retirement.

During negotiations, Chen Shuqing filed a government information disclosure request. On December 25, 2025, Chen Zupeng, an official at the Gongshu District Human Resources and Social Security Bureau of Hangzhou City, issued the “Notice of Matters Handled by the Hangzhou Gongshu District Social Insurance Management Service Center,” the “Notice,” and the “Reply Regarding Issues Concerning Basic Old-Age Insurance for Persons Sentenced to Fixed-Term Imprisonment” (this document was disclosed upon request) (Zhe Ren She Han [2010] No. 358) in his office.

Chen Shuqing believed that the laws and policies upon which the aforementioned documents were based were clearly misapplied or lacked legal validity. On January 27, 2026, he filed an application for administrative reconsideration regarding this matter, which was accepted by the Gongshu District People’s Government on February 3, 2026. During the reconsideration process, the review period was extended due to Chen Shuqing’s request for a concurrent review of normative documents, resulting in the suspension and subsequent resumption of proceedings in accordance with the law. On May 1, 2026, Chen Shuqing received the “Administrative Review Decision of the People’s Government of Gongshu District, Hangzhou City” (Hang Gong Zheng Fu [2026] No. 67), issued by the People’s Government of Gongshu District, Hangzhou City on April 30, 2026. This “Administrative Review Decision” upheld the “Notice” issued by the respondent, the Hangzhou Gongshu District Human Resources and Social Security Bureau, on December 25, 2025, refusing to process Chen Shuqing’s retirement procedures, indicating that Chen Shuqing’s efforts to secure his pension rights had been thwarted at the administrative review stage.

Given that Chen Shuqing himself, his employer, and his family members had never been informed that social security contributions could not be made during his period of imprisonment when paying or making up for past social security contributions; and given that the Hangzhou Gongshu District Government, in its final “Administrative Reconsideration Decision,” followed the specific administrative actions of the respondent, the Hangzhou Gongshu District Human Resources and Social Security Bureau, in this case—ignoring the administrative liability for breach of trust (the principle of safeguarding the legitimate expectations arising from government actions), disregarding the fact that neither the *Labor Law of the People’s Republic of China*, the *Social Insurance Law of the People’s Republic of China*, nor any other normative document possessing legal status and effect under the *Legislative Law of the People’s Republic of China* contains mandatory provisions explicitly excluding social insurance participants during their incarceration; disregarding the court’s final judgment in this case, which explicitly deprived the applicant only of personal and political rights but did not deprive him of socioeconomic rights (including social insurance rights); disregarding the applicant’s participation in labor during imprisonment and the requirements for equal pay for equal work and universal, unconditional social security set forth in international conventions to which the Chinese government has acceded or ratified and which possess the force of national law; Given the double standards employed by the human resources and social security authorities in interpreting and applying the law—applying one standard to themselves and another to others (while both involve “scope,” they exceed the limits explicitly prescribed by law and seriously violate the legal requirement of equal pay for equal work by extensively using labor dispatch, thereby breaking the law while enforcing it; yet they evade their social insurance obligations toward Chen Shuqing by claiming that “inmates serving sentences do not fall within the scope of participants in the basic old-age insurance scheme for employees.” Is it a case of “the officials are allowed to set fires, but the common people are not allowed to light lamps”?). Chen Shuqing disagrees with this decision and intends to file an administrative lawsuit as soon as possible, hoping that judicial oversight and the checks and balances of power will play their due role in this case.

May 1, 2026

作者：周敏

编辑：李晶 校对：王滨 翻译：戈冰

2026年5月1日下午五时二十分，成都高新区天府四街。

一辆粉银色轿车在民乐地铁站路口等完红灯，绿灯亮起的瞬间，并没有直行，而是猛打方向盘，加速冲向斑马线上的行人。行人纷纷被撞飞十余米。车没停，继续逆向冲上人行道、倒车、再次加速，再次撞向人群，如此反复，绵延近两公里，直到被迎面驶来的车辆逼停。接着31岁的李某某从车里走出来，并从后备箱拿出了一把刀。

他被当场制伏后，警方发布通报：李某某涉嫌交通肇事逃逸，经检测排除酒驾毒驾，事故造成1死11伤，案件正在进一步调查处理中。微博等平台迅速把相关视频和关键词列为禁语，警方提醒公众”勿传播现场图片视频及相关不实信息”。

一个人藏着刀，在劳动节的下午，全市最繁华的商圈之一，驾车主动冲撞过马路的人群，行驶近两公里，见人就撞——官方的结论却是：交通事故。看见了吧，依然是这套中国特色的政治八股文，将谋杀包装成意外，将体制危机淡化成个人悲剧，一个正在加速崩裂的社会被稳稳地修饰为安全稳定。

一、政治定性

了解中国的人都知道，每当这类事件发生，第一道防线永远是定性，出发点摒弃了法律，只讲政治。

“交通事故”比故意伤人在法律上轻得多，更重要的是，这在政治上安全很多。一起交通事故只是个人失误，一起蓄意的无差别袭击是社会问题；社会问题如果系统性发生，就是治理问题；治理问题如果持续恶化，就开始触碰一个禁忌：这个体制是否仍有合法性？

这条逻辑链是可以从源头截断的。

截断的方式有几种：第一，就是定性为事故，不用”故意”两个字；第二，删除视频，剥夺公众的感知权；第三，将个案孤立，刻意不和类似事件并列报道；第四，只强调嫌疑人的个人特质——精神问题、家庭矛盾、个人失意——淡化社会背景；第五，快速进入司法程序，通常是从重从快、判处死刑，以”正义得到了伸张”来堵住悠悠众口。

成都事件完整执行了这套程序的前几步，后续判决其实也可以预期。

这套操作熟练到了什么程度？熟练到每个中国人可以在事件发生后数小时内马上预测到官方反应的全部步骤。人们对它的熟悉程度本身，很能说明问题。

二、后背发凉的数据

让我们来看一组数字。

根据海外中文媒体和维基学院整理的不完全统计：2019年到2023年，中国每年发生的无差别袭击事件约为3至5起。2024年，这一数字跃升至至少19至23起，其中仅11月一个月就发生了三起重大事件：11月11日，珠海体育中心，驾车撞人，35死43伤；11月16日，江苏无锡工艺职业技术学院，持刀砍人，8死17伤；11月19日，湖南常德，小学门外车辆撞人。进入2025年，频率未减：春节期间接连发生南京持刀案（4死8伤）、沈阳大东副食爆炸案，此后月月有事。

这些数字是非常保守的。官方不公布，境外媒体依赖网传视频和零散报道拼凑，大量事件甚至没有进入公众视野。成都事件的目击者已经说得很清楚：”人都给整飞了，怎么可能才死一个？我们发的视频全部被删除了。”

我们所看到的，只是掩盖下的漏网之鱼。但即便是漏网之鱼，其趋势也已经触目惊心：从2019年到2025年，五年内增长了四至六倍。这是一条如此清晰的上升曲线。

一个每年发生几十起无差别袭击、每起造成数人乃至数十人伤亡的社会，已经无法用极端个案来撇清。必须问的问题是：这个社会到底发生了什么？

三、压力锅的物理学素描

压力锅的工作原理很简单：密封容器内持续加热，压力不断累积，如果没有泄压阀，最终只有两种结果——要么降温，要么爆炸。中国社会过去十年的演变，可以形象地用这个比喻来绘制。

压力的来源重重叠叠。经济层面：房价崩塌摧毁了数以亿计家庭的核心资产，青年失业率在2023年突破21%后当局宣布停止公布，私营经济持续萎缩，地方政府债台高筑已无力维持基本社会服务。社会层面：贫富分化在过去十年急剧加深，阶层上升通道几近封死，”内卷”、”躺平”、”润”这些词汇的流行，是数亿人集体心理状态的晴雨表。个人层面：离婚率上升、出生率暴跌、男性经济压力与尊严危机交织，心理健康服务极度匮乏。

从已知案例看，行凶者的画像高度趋同：多为中年男性，经历过婚姻破裂、财务崩溃、与法律或官僚体制的漫长摩擦，最终在某个临界点做出了对无辜者的致命选择。珠海肇事者是62岁的离异男性，据报道曾多次就财产分割申诉而无果。无锡行凶者是21岁的应届毕业生，因无法拿到毕业证走投无路。成都的李某某，31岁，动机目前仍不透明——但在官方有意封锁信息的情况下，不透明本身就透露了丰富的信息。

高压需要疏泄，那泄压阀在哪里？

一个正常运作的社会中，压力是有出口的：法律诉诸（个人权利受侵害可获救济）、政治参与（对体制的不满可通过选举表达）、媒体监督（社会问题可被公开讨论并形成改革压力）、社会组织（公民社会可以承接和疏导个体困境）。

这四条通道，在习近平执政十余年间，都被精确地堵上了。维权律师被清洗（2015年以来）；独立媒体已然千山鸟飞绝；上访者遭拦截、暴打、关押；NGO被立法管控；网络舆论的审查压制赫然来到人类历史巅峰。

压力在分秒增加，出口被无情关闭。压力化为一股股戾气，逐渐在街道上横冲直撞。这是中国社会的物理学画像。

四、监控悖论

当局的反应，在珠海事件之后已经可以清晰看到：加强大数据预警，增加街面警力，在公共场所安装更多防护路桩，部署更密集的摄像网络。

但这些措施根本触碰不到源头，甚至在某种意义上加速问题的恶化。

人们在网络上抱怨生活中的绝望、隐晦地批评政府，会被算法识别、被警察上门”关怀”。但一个人一言不发、突然开车去撞人，却是任何大数据系统都无法提前发现的。信息管控的逻辑，反倒强化训练出了后者。当局用监控替代了社会的自我修复机制，却让社会失去了通过公开讨论识别和疏导危机的能力。

监控人民这件事本身也是压力的一部分。人民每一次搜索、每一条消息、每一次出行都被窥探和分析着，人的尊严感和自主感在持续侵蚀。这种侵蚀没办法准确量化，但它是真实的、沉重的。

五、以史为镜

中共治下的局面，其实在历史上似曾相识。

满清最后二十年，朝廷腐败、民生凋敝、改革路径又被封堵，社会出现了密集的暗杀风潮。革命党人的暗杀行动固然有其政治目标，但在更广泛的社会层面，也出现了大量出于个人绝望的暴力行为。鲁迅在他的小说中反复书写的，就是那个时代被压抑到扭曲的集体心理。

彼时的分析家曾经说：这个社会不是在革命前夕，而是在溃烂——它不会整齐地爆发，而是会慢慢烂掉，烂出无数个溃口。

一百年后，我们来到了同一个剧本的舞台上。

诚然，今天的中国有更强大的维稳能力，有人类历史上规模最大的监控基础设施，有经过精心训练的舆论管控机器。这使得大规模的政治革命在可见的未来极难发生。但它无法阻止那些已经失去一切、也不在意任何后果的人，选择用最原始的方式，对着他们身边的陌生人，完成他们最后的控诉。

这是献忠现象最令人心寒的地方：它的受害者，是那些和行凶者一样挣扎在同一个体制下的普通人。压迫向下传导，最终由最脆弱的人承受最后的代价。

六、那把尖刀

成都事件中有一个细节，我反复想起。

李某某被逼停之后，下车，走向后备箱，取出一把尖刀。

这个细节说明他不是一时冲动。他在出发之前，就已经准备好了那把刀。他知道自己要做什么，知道车可能会被撞停，之后他还要继续。

一个31岁的人，在五一劳动节的下午，做好了所有准备，来到人群最密集的地方。

我不知道他经历了什么。官方不告诉我们，而他被捕之后，也不会再有发声的机会。但那把提前放在后备箱里的刀，是一份无声的陈述——关于一个人在走到这一步之前，必定走过的漫长绝望。

这份绝望不是他一个人的。中国有数亿个正在以不同方式承受类似压力的人。其中绝大多数不会走到那一步，但那把刀的存在，是整个社会状态的一根温度计。

当局的回应，是交通肇事逃逸。然后就是迅速删除视频，是”请勿传播不实信息”，不然就要被警察请去喝茶。这个硬冷的回应，是对所有仍在挣扎者最彻底的背叛。

七、尾声的叹息

本文写作时，成都事件已发生二十四小时。死亡人数仍有争议，嫌疑人动机未被公开，相关视频被有条不紊地删除殆尽。

我们不可能知道真相那仿佛冰山般的全貌。冰山被掩盖在水下，人们不知道下一座冰山何时、何地会突然撞过来。我们只知道，它们就在水下，伺机而动。

一个健康的社会，应该能够承受真相。它应该能够公开讨论为什么有人会做出这样的事，应该能够追问制度是否应承担责任，应该能够通过这种讨论学习和改变。

但是这个社会不能。所以它只能等待下一次。

下一辆车，下一把刀，下一个沉默的31岁。然后依然地，宣布那是一起交通事故。

Traffic Accident or Systemic Negligence? — A Case Study of Tianfu 4th Street in Chengdu

Author: Zhou Min

Editor: Li Jing Proofreader: Wang Bin Translator: Ge Bing

May 1, 2026, 5:20 p.m., Tianfu 4th Street, Chengdu High-Tech Zone.

A pink-and-silver sedan had just waited through a red light at the Minle Metro Station intersection. The moment the light turned green, instead of proceeding straight, the driver suddenly jerked the steering wheel and accelerated toward pedestrians on the crosswalk. Pedestrians were hurled more than ten meters into the air. The car did not stop; it continued driving against traffic onto the sidewalk, reversed, accelerated again, and plowed into the crowd once more. This pattern repeated itself for nearly two kilometers until the vehicle was forced to stop by oncoming traffic. Then, a 31-year-old man surnamed Li got out of the car and pulled a knife from the trunk.

After he was subdued on the spot, the police issued a statement: Li is suspected of hit-and-run; tests ruled out drunk or drugged driving; the incident resulted in one death and 11 injuries; the case is under further investigation. Platforms like Weibo quickly banned related videos and keywords, and the police reminded the public “not to spread on-site photos, videos, or related false information.”

A man armed with a knife, on an afternoon during Labor Day, drove through one of the city’s busiest commercial districts, deliberately plowing into pedestrians crossing the street, traveling nearly two kilometers and striking anyone in his path—yet the official conclusion is: a traffic accident. See? It’s still the same set of politically formulaic rhetoric with Chinese characteristics, packaging murder as an accident, downplaying systemic crises as personal tragedies, and steadily portraying a society in rapid disintegration as safe and stable.

I. Political Characterization

Anyone familiar with China knows that whenever such incidents occur, the first line of defense is always to define the nature of the event—an approach that discards the law and focuses solely on politics.

“Traffic accident” carries a much lighter legal penalty than “intentional injury”; more importantly, it is far safer politically. A traffic accident is merely an individual error, while a deliberate, indiscriminate attack is a social problem; If such social problems occur systematically, they become governance issues; if governance issues continue to deteriorate, they begin to touch upon a taboo: Does this system still possess legitimacy?

This chain of logic can be severed at its source.

There are several ways to sever it: First, classify it as an accident and avoid using the word “intentional”; second, delete the video footage, depriving the public of their right to perceive the truth; third, isolate the individual case and deliberately avoid reporting it alongside similar incidents; Fourth, emphasize only the suspect’s personal traits—mental health issues, family conflicts, personal setbacks—while downplaying the social context; fifth, swiftly initiate judicial proceedings, typically imposing the harshest and swiftest penalties, including the death penalty, to silence public criticism by claiming “justice has been served.”

The Chengdu incident fully executed the first few steps of this procedure, and the subsequent verdict was, in fact, predictable.

How proficient has this system become? So proficient that every Chinese citizen can predict every step of the official response within hours of an incident occurring. The very fact that people are so familiar with it speaks volumes.

II. Chilling Statistics

Let’s look at a set of figures.

According to incomplete statistics compiled by overseas Chinese-language media and Wikiversity, between 2019 and 2023, China experienced approximately 3 to 5 indiscriminate attacks per year. In 2024, this number jumped to at least 19 to 23 incidents, with three major incidents occurring in November alone: On November 11, a vehicle plowed into a crowd at the Zhuhai Sports Center, killing 35 and injuring 43; On November 16, at the Wuxi Vocational College of Arts and Crafts in Jiangsu, a knife attack left 8 dead and 17 injured; on November 19, in Changde, Hunan, a vehicle plowed into pedestrians outside an elementary school. Entering 2025, the frequency showed no sign of abating: during the Spring Festival, a knife attack in Nanjing (4 dead, 8 injured) and an explosion at a grocery store in Dadong, Shenyang, occurred in quick succession, followed by incidents every month thereafter.

These figures are extremely conservative. Since the government does not release official data, foreign media rely on viral videos and scattered reports to piece together the picture, and a vast number of incidents never even enter the public’s view. Witnesses to the Chengdu incident have made it clear: “People were being flung through the air—how could there be only one death? All the videos we posted have been deleted.”

What we see is merely the tip of the iceberg beneath the cover-up. But even these isolated incidents reveal a trend that is already shocking: from 2019 to 2025, the number of incidents increased four to sixfold over the course of five years. This is a strikingly clear upward trajectory.

A society where dozens of indiscriminate attacks occur annually, each resulting in casualties ranging from a few to dozens of people, can no longer be dismissed as a series of isolated, extreme cases. The question we must ask is: What exactly is happening in this society?

III. A Sketch of the Physics of a Pressure Cooker

The working principle of a pressure cooker is simple: continuous heating within a sealed container causes pressure to build up. Without a pressure release valve, there are ultimately only two outcomes—either the temperature drops, or it explodes. The evolution of Chinese society over the past decade can be vividly illustrated using this metaphor.

The sources of pressure are layered and intertwined. On the economic front: the collapse of housing prices has destroyed the core assets of hundreds of millions of families; youth unemployment exceeded 21% in 2023 before the authorities announced they would stop publishing the figures; the private sector continues to shrink; and local governments, burdened by massive debt, are no longer able to maintain basic social services. Socially: The wealth gap has widened dramatically over the past decade, and pathways for social mobility have been virtually sealed off. The popularity of terms like “involution,” “lying flat,” and “emigrating” serves as a barometer of the collective psychological state of hundreds of millions of people. On an individual level: Divorce rates are rising, birth rates are plummeting, men face a convergence of economic pressure and a crisis of dignity, and mental health services are severely lacking.

Judging from known cases, the profiles of the perpetrators show a high degree of similarity: most are middle-aged men who have experienced marital breakdown, financial collapse, and prolonged friction with the legal or bureaucratic systems, ultimately making a fatal choice against innocent victims at a certain tipping point. The perpetrator in Zhuhai was a 62-year-old divorced man who, according to reports, had repeatedly appealed for property division without success. The Wuxi attacker was a 21-year-old recent graduate who felt cornered after being unable to obtain his diploma. In Chengdu, the motive of the 31-year-old suspect, surnamed Li, remains unclear—though in a context where authorities are deliberately withholding information, this very opacity speaks volumes.

High pressure needs an outlet—but where is that safety valve?

In a normally functioning society, there are outlets for pressure: recourse to the law (where individuals can seek redress for infringed rights), political participation (where dissatisfaction with the system can be expressed through elections), media oversight (where social issues can be openly discussed to generate pressure for reform), and civil society organizations (where civil society can address and alleviate individual hardships).

Over the more than ten years of Xi Jinping’s rule, all four of these channels have been systematically blocked. Human rights lawyers have been purged (since 2015); independent media has all but vanished; petitioners are intercepted, beaten, and detained; NGOs are subject to legislative controls; and online censorship has reached unprecedented heights in human history.

Pressure mounts by the second, while outlets are ruthlessly shut down. This pressure transforms into waves of hostility, gradually rampaging through the streets. This is the physical portrait of Chinese society.

IV. The Surveillance Paradox

The authorities’ response, following the Zhuhai incident, is already clear: strengthening big data early warning systems, increasing street patrols, installing more protective road barriers in public spaces, and deploying a denser network of surveillance cameras.

But these measures do not address the root cause; in a sense, they even accelerate the problem’s deterioration.

People who vent their despair about life online or offer veiled criticism of the government are identified by algorithms and receive a “visit” from the police. Yet when an individual says nothing and suddenly drives a car into a crowd, no big data system can detect it in advance. The logic of information control has, ironically, trained and reinforced precisely such behavior. By substituting surveillance for society’s self-healing mechanisms, the authorities have robbed society of its ability to identify issues through open discussion.

When people vent their despair about life online or offer veiled criticism of the government, they are identified by algorithms and receive a “visit” from the police. Yet when someone remains silent and suddenly drives a car into a crowd, no big data system can detect it in advance. Ironically, the logic of information control has actually fostered the latter scenario. By replacing society’s self-healing mechanisms with surveillance, the authorities have stripped society of its ability to identify and defuse crises through open discussion.

The act of monitoring the people is itself a source of pressure. Every search, every message, and every trip is scrutinized and analyzed, steadily eroding people’s sense of dignity and autonomy. This erosion cannot be precisely quantified, but it is real and profound.

V. Learning from History

The situation under the rule of the Chinese Communist Party is, in fact, historically familiar.

During the final two decades of the Qing Dynasty, with the imperial court corrupt, the people impoverished, and avenues for reform blocked, society witnessed a wave of frequent assassinations. While the revolutionary parties’ assassination campaigns certainly had political objectives, on a broader social level, there was also a surge in violent acts driven by personal despair. What Lu Xun repeatedly depicted in his novels was the collective psyche of that era—suppressed to the point of distortion.

Analysts of that time once remarked: This society is not on the eve of revolution, but in a state of decay—it will not erupt in a single, orderly explosion, but will slowly rot away, developing countless festering sores.

A century later, we have stepped onto the stage of the same play.

Admittedly, today’s China possesses far greater capabilities for maintaining stability, boasting the largest surveillance infrastructure in human history and a meticulously trained apparatus for controlling public opinion. This makes a large-scale political revolution highly unlikely in the foreseeable future. Yet it cannot prevent those who have lost everything and care not for the consequences from choosing the most primal means to direct their final indictment at the strangers around them.

This is the most chilling aspect of the Xianzhong phenomenon: its victims are ordinary people struggling under the same system as the perpetrators. Oppression trickles down, and ultimately, it is the most vulnerable who bear the final cost.

VI. That Sharp Knife

There is one detail from the Chengdu incident that keeps coming back to me.

After Li Moumou was forced to stop, he got out of the car, walked to the trunk, and pulled out a sharp knife.

This detail shows that he was not acting on a sudden impulse. He had already prepared that knife before setting out. He knew what he was going to do; he knew the car might be rammed to a halt, and that he would have to continue afterward.

A 31-year-old man, on the afternoon of May Day, made all the necessary preparations and came to the most crowded place.

I don’t know what he went through. The authorities won’t tell us, and now that he’s been arrested, he’ll never have a chance to speak out again. But that knife, placed in the trunk beforehand, is a silent statement—about the long, desperate path a person must have walked before reaching this point.

This despair is not his alone. There are hundreds of millions of people in China who are enduring similar pressures in different ways. The vast majority will never reach that breaking point, but the existence of that knife serves as a barometer of the state of society as a whole.

The authorities’ response was to label it a hit-and-run incident. Then came the swift deletion of videos, accompanied by warnings to “refrain from spreading false information”—or else face being “invited for tea” by the police. This harsh and cold response is the most complete betrayal of all those still struggling.

VII. A Sigh at the End

At the time of writing, twenty-four hours have passed since the Chengdu incident. The death toll remains disputed, the suspect’s motives have not been disclosed, and related videos have been systematically and thoroughly deleted.

We cannot know the full truth, which resembles an iceberg. The iceberg lies hidden beneath the water; people do not know when or where the next one will suddenly crash into them. We only know that they are there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for their chance.

A healthy society should be able to bear the truth. It should be able to openly discuss why someone would commit such an act, should be able to question whether the system bears responsibility, and should be able to learn and change through such discussions.

But this society cannot. So it can only wait for the next time.

The next vehicle, the next knife, the next silent 31-year-old. And then, as always, it will be declared a traffic accident.