作者：漠北孤侠

        历史总是以一种近乎残酷的幽默在重演。      当“中共105年”的宏大叙事在官方的扩音器里唾沫飞溅时，清醒者听到的却是帝国晚钟的沉闷余响。《爆点周刊》的这组专题，恰如一把手术刀，切中了这个时代最核心的焦虑与荒诞：在一个政权不可逆转地滑向衰败周期时，那些削尖了脑袋试图挤上这艘破船者，究竟是在计算一场精明的投机，还是在自掘坟墓？

        这个提问，与我长久以来的观察与论证不谋而合。我曾多次以此类比警示身边的年轻人。在历史的十字路口，认知不仅决定阶层，更决定生死。        当下的乱世通感与民国前夜，历史惊人地齿合了。 今天的中国，正弥漫着一种奇特而凄厉的末路狂奔之氛围。这种氛围，经历过1949年前夕民国乱世的人绝不会陌生，而当下的不堪尤甚于当年。

        把历史的镜头拉回1949年前夕，那是一个法币恶性贬值、金圆券形同废纸、百业凋敝的绝望时代；豪门权贵垄断了最后的资源，底层官员则朝不保夕；整个社会思潮混乱、人心思变，旧秩序在风雨飘摇中摇摇欲坠；在国际上，那个政权也失去了西方核心盟友的强力支持，彻底陷于孤立。

        再看当下，历史的宿命感简直令人毛骨悚然。地方债台高筑，消费呈现断崖式下跌，大厂裁员潮此起彼伏，百业凋敝的惨状随处可见。官场上更是“官不聊生”，极端的形式主义内卷与选择性反腐并存，人人自危。更可怕的是社会心理的全面崩溃，绝望从底层向上蔓延，戾气在街头爆燃，遍地献忠。而在地缘政治上，脱钩断链，内外交困，国际处境全面恶化。 这不仅仅是经济数字的下滑，而是气运的散尽。一种萧杀、凄厉之气在神州大地弥漫。曾经支撑起所谓“盛世”的红利已经全部透支干净。剩下的，只是一个庞大机器在没有润滑油的情况下的剧烈摩擦与空转。

         荒诞的当下：1949年加入国民党，还是大清亡国当太监？“现在加入中共”成了一个极具讽刺意味的黑色幽默。 过去，加入体制是一场稳赚不赔的买卖：交出部分的灵魂，换取稳定的庇护、垄断的资源和高人一等的特权。那尚算理性投机。然而，当体制的泰坦尼克号已经撞上冰山，船舱开始进水，甚至连头等舱的贵宾都在悄悄争夺救生衣时，你却还在岸上砸锅卖铁、买一张通往底层的站票。这已经不是投机，这是纯粹的智商欠费。 如果说在1949年前夜加入国民党，尚算一场赌徒在收盘前的盲目下注；那么今天，在一个数字化极权已经将社会压榨至极限、经济引擎彻底熄火的时刻选择加入中共，其荒谬程度，无异于在清朝灭亡的前夜，主动净身去当太监。 你以为能赶上伺候老佛爷的最后一口剩饭，殊不知迎接你的，是整个帝制大厦的轰然倒塌，以及随后无尽的羞辱与清算。

       体制已经给不起当年的溢价了。当下的体制内，正在从当年的避风港演变为高风险的绞肉盘。首先是利益在疯狂缩水，降薪潮、砍福利、延迟退休轮番轰炸，体制内的铁饭碗正在变成泥饭碗。其次是责任在无限放大，终身追责制、政治倒查二十年，每一项签字都可能成为未来清算时的呈堂证供。最致命的是绑定的代价极高，数字化极权是一把双刃剑，它记录了所有人的行为，一旦沉船，留在名册上的每一个签字，都是一张无法抵赖的罪恶账单。

        历史的大潮往往在极少数人的觉醒中发生质变。年轻人之所以彷徨，甚至在恐惧中选择顺从，根源在于认知的闭塞。 天地之道，昭昭如日。世界潮流演变至今日，文明与野蛮、自由与专制的对决已经进入下半场。全球供应链的重组、文明世界对极权主义的合围，已经形成了滔滔之势。这不是某一个党派、某一个集团的胜负，而是人类文明演进的必然规律——顺之则昌，逆之则亡。

        在这个节点上，选择脱离中共，甚至以各种形式投入到结束暴政的大潮中，绝非盲目的激进，而是基于底线逻辑的智勇计策。共产恶魔的覆灭是历史的必然，它的经济逻辑不可持续，它的政治逻辑反人性，它的社会逻辑制造互害。

        勇敢地与黑暗切割。当雪崩发生时，没有一片雪花是无辜的；但只要你提前跳出雪域，你就是见证新生的人。

        你不需要沦为这场漫长政治噩梦的殉葬品。今天的你手握互联网时代的火把，理应看得更清、走得更快、行得更远。     《爆点周刊》所追问的“中国人该如何走出这场漫长的政治噩梦”，答案其实就写在每个人的选择里。

        政权的衰败是物理规律，人心的背离是化学反应。当一个政权需要靠“遍地献忠”的恐惧来维持脸面，靠密不透风的监控来维持稳定时，它就已经在精神上宣告死亡了。

         历史不相信眼泪，更不怜悯赌徒。那些至今仍对体制抱有幻想、试图通过入党来分一杯羹的投机者，终将在不久的将来发现，他们以为买到的是通往特权阶层的门票，实际上却是一张通往历史耻辱场的单程车票，必将一同沉入历史最深、最黑的泥潭。顺天应人，断然切割，才是智商测验的“斩杀线”。

编辑：李晶 校对：王滨 翻译：沈美花

The Sinking Ship of the Era and Its Last Passengers: Is Joining the Party Today Equivalent to Becoming a Eunuch in 1911?

Author: Mobei Guxia

Abstract: Today, the Communist Party has entered its twilight scenario, yet there are still people who fail to see the trend of history, hoodwinked by the Communist Party’s lies into joining an evil organization. Little do they know that this is the worst possible political choice at the current crossroads of history.

History always repeats itself with a near-cruel sense of humor. When the grand narrative of “the 105th Anniversary of the CCP” splatters with saliva from the official loudspeakers, those who are clear-headed hear only the dull, lingering echo of the empire’s evening bell. This special feature by The Flashpoint Weekly acts precisely like a scalpel, cutting into the core anxiety and absurdity of this era: When a regime irreversibly slides into its cycle of decline, are those who sharpen their heads and try to squeeze onto this broken ship calculating a shrewd speculation, or are they digging their own graves?

This question coincides exactly with my long-standing observations and arguments. I have repeatedly used similar analogies to warn the young people around me. At the crossroads of history, cognition determines not just one’s social class, but more importantly, one’s survival. The current shared sense of a chaotic world mirrors the eve of the Republic of China; history has interlocked with startling precision. Today’s China is permeated with a strange and mournful atmosphere of a mad dash toward the end of the road. Those who lived through the chaotic times of the Republic of China on the eve of 1949 would certainly not be unfamiliar with this atmosphere, and the wretchedness of the present is even worse than back then.

Pulling the lens of history back to the eve of 1949, that was a desperate era of hyperinflation where the Fabi (legal tender) severely depreciated, the Gold Yuan Securities became as worthless as wastepaper, and all industries were depressed. The powerful and wealthy clans monopolized the last remaining resources, while grassroots officials lived hand-to-mouth, never knowing if they would survive the day. The entire social thought was in chaos,人心思变 (people’s minds yearned for change), and the old order tottered precariously in the wind and rain. Internationally, that regime had also lost the strong support of its core Western allies, falling into complete isolation.

Looking at the present, the sense of historical fatalism is absolutely hair-raising. Local government debts are piled high like mountains, consumption has shown a cliff-like drop, waves of layoffs in tech giants follow one after another, and the miserable sight of ruined industries can be seen everywhere. In the bureaucracy, it is a state where “officials find life unbearable” (guan bu liao sheng); extreme formalistic involution coexists with selective anti-corruption, leaving everyone in a constant state of peril. What is even more terrifying is the total collapse of social psychology—desperation spreads from the bottom upward, hostility and rage explode on the streets, and “Xianzhong” indiscriminate violent attacks are everywhere. In geopolitics, decoupling and breaking supply chains have led to domestic and foreign predicaments, and the international situation has comprehensively deteriorated. This is not merely a decline in economic figures, but the complete dissipation of the regime’s fortune and vitality (qiyun). A bleak and mournful air pervades the divine land of China. The dividends that once supported the so-called “prosperous age” have been completely overdrawn. What remains is merely a massive machine grinding and idling violently without any lubricating oil.

The absurd present: Joining the Kuomintang (KMT) in 1949, or becoming a eunuch right as the Great Qing Dynasty perishes? “Joining the CCP now” has become a highly ironic piece of black humor.In the past, entering the system was a win-win transaction with guaranteed returns: surrendering a portion of one’s soul in exchange for stable institutional asylum, monopolized resources, and superior privileges. That could still be considered a rational speculation. However, when the Titanic of the system has already struck an iceberg, the cabins are flooding, and even the VIP guests in first class are quietly scrambling for life jackets, you are still on the shore selling off everything you own just to buy a standing-ticket to the bottom deck. This is no longer speculation; this is a pure deficit in IQ. If joining the Kuomintang on the eve of 1949 could still be counted as a gambler’s blind bet before the market closed, then choosing to join the CCP today—at a moment when digital totalitarianism has squeezed society to its absolute limit and the economic engine has completely stalled—is an absurdity no different from voluntarily castrating oneself to become a eunuch on the eve of the fall of the Qing Dynasty. You think you can catch the last mouthful of leftovers from serving the Empress Dowager (Lao Foye), but little do you know that what awaits you is the thunderous collapse of the entire imperial edifice, followed by endless humiliation and reckoning.

The system can no longer afford the premiums of yesteryear. The current internal system is evolving from a safe haven of the past into a high-risk meat grinder. First, benefits are shrinking crazily: waves of salary cuts, slashed welfare, and delayed retirement are bombarding the workforce; the “iron rice bowl” within the system is turning into a “mud rice bowl.” Second, responsibilities are being infinitely magnified: the lifelong accountability system and political investigations tracing back twenty years mean that every single signature could become evidence presented in court during future reckonings. Most fatal of all is the extremely high cost of being tied to the regime. Digital totalitarianism is a double-edged sword; it records everyone’s behavior. Once the ship sinks, every signature left on the roster will be an undeniable invoice of guilt.

The tide of history often undergoes a qualitative change through the awakening of a very small number of people. The reason why young people vacillate, or even choose to comply out of fear, stems from the closure of their cognition. The Way of Heaven and Earth is as bright and clear as the sun. As the world trend evolves to this day, the duel between civilization and barbarism, freedom and tyranny, has entered its second half. The restructuring of global supply chains and the encirclement of totalitarianism by the civilized world have already formed a surging torrent. This is not the victory or defeat of a certain party or a certain clique, but the inevitable law of human civilizational evolution—those who accord with it prosper, those who go against it perish.

At this juncture, choosing to break away from the CCP, or even dedicating oneself in various forms to the grand torrent of ending tyranny, is by no means blind radicalism; rather, it is a strategy of wisdom and courage based on bottom-line logic. The collapse of the communist demon is a historical inevitability; its economic logic is unsustainable, its political logic is anti-human, and its social logic manufactures mutual harm.

Bravely cut ties with the darkness. When an avalanche occurs, no single snowflake is innocent; but as long as you jump out of the snowfield ahead of time, you will be the one who witnesses the rebirth.

You do not need to become a sacrificial victim for this prolonged political nightmare. Armed with the torch of the internet era today, you ought to see more clearly, walk faster, and go further. The answer to the question posed by The Flashpoint Weekly—”How can the Chinese people walk out of this long political nightmare?”—is actually written in the choices of every individual.

The decay of a regime is a law of physics; the estrangement of people’s hearts is a chemical reaction.When a regime needs to rely on the terror of “widespread Xianzhong violent attacks” to save face, and relies on airtight surveillance to maintain stability, it has already declared its spiritual death.

History does not believe in tears, much less does it pity gamblers. Those speculators who still harbor illusions about the system and attempt to gain a share of the spoils by joining the Party will find out in the near future that what they thought they bought was a ticket to the privileged class, but in reality, it was a one-way ticket to the historical execution grounds of shame, bound to sink together into the deepest, darkest mire of history. Conforming to heaven and responding to people, and decisively cutting ties—this is the true “killing line” (zhan sha xian) of the IQ test.

Editor: Li Jing Proofreader: Wang Bin Translator: Shen Meihua

作者：吕峰  

       很多人对民主有一种简单甚至片面的理解：少数服从多数。

       这句话没有错，但并不完整。

       试着想一个问题：如果有一天，你成为了少数，你希望多数人如何对待你？

       我想，每个人都希望自己的声音能够被倾听，自己的意见能够被尊重，而不是因为人数较少，就被忽视，甚至被迫作出牺牲。

因此，少数服从多数，只是民主作出公共决策的一种程序，而不是民主的全部。如果民主只是简单地让51%的人决定49%的人的命运，那么民主就可能沦为“多数人的暴政”。我觉得真正的民主，不仅要尊重多数人的选择，也要保障少数人的权利，并允许不同意见公开表达、接受讨论和检验。

       所谓少数派，并不仅仅是人数较少的人。他们可能是持不同意见的人、不同宗教信仰者、不同职业群体，也可能只是某一个议题上与你意见不同的人。

       更重要的是，没有人能够永远属于多数。

       今天，你可能站在多数人的一边；明天，你可能因为一次选举、一项政策、一种身份，甚至一句不同意见，而成为少数。因此，保护少数人的权利，并不是给予少数人特殊待遇，而是在保护未来的每一个人。

       举一个生活中的例子。

       假设一座城市需要建设一座垃圾焚烧厂。为了整个城市的环境卫生，它可能有建设的必要。但新的问题来了：建在哪里？没有人愿意把垃圾焚烧厂建在自己家附近。对于整座城市而言，附近居民只是少数；但对于这些居民来说，他们却要承担噪音、气味、交通增加以及生活品质下降等影响。如果只是简单理解为“少数服从多数”，那么既然绝大多数人支持建设，他们似乎就只能接受。但真正成熟的民主社会不会如此运作。即使最终为了公共利益，垃圾焚烧厂仍然需要建设，也不能因为受影响的人数较少，就忽视他们的声音。

       政府应当充分公开信息，认真听取居民意见，研究是否存在更合理的方案，并尽可能保障受到影响居民的合法权益。

       民主不是保证每个人都满意，而是保证每个人都被尊重。

       尊重少数人的权利，并不意味着少数人的意见一定会被采纳，而是意味着他们拥有表达意见、参与讨论、争取自身权益的机会。多数人可以作出最终决定，但不能因为人数占优，就否定少数人的尊严和合法权益。

       民主还意味着，任何观点都不应因为属于少数而被拒绝表达。

       历史告诉我们，多数人的意见并不一定永远正确，少数人的声音也不一定永远错误。例如，伽利略支持日心说时，他的观点长期属于少数；马丁·路德·金争取美国黑人的平等权利时，也曾遭到广泛反对。但随着公开讨论、事实积累和时间检验，他们的理念最终获得了更广泛的认可，并推动了社会进步。

       当然，这并不意味着少数人的意见一定是真理。历史上也有许多少数意见最终被证明是错误的。

       民主的价值，不是默认多数一定正确，也不是假定少数一定正确，而是让不同观点都有表达和接受检验的机会。一种观点是否正确，不应仅仅由支持它的人数决定，而应当通过事实、理性讨论和时间来检验。

       正因如此，一个成熟的民主社会，不仅要尊重多数人的选择，也必须保障少数人的权利，倾听少数人的声音。因为今天需要被倾听的是别人，明天可能就是我们自己。

       一个真正文明的社会，不是没有分歧，而是能够包容分歧；不是要求所有人意见一致，而是允许不同观点和平共存，在讨论中寻找共识，在争论中接近真相。

       美国宪政思想家詹姆斯·麦迪逊曾强调，一个良好的民主制度，不仅要体现多数人的意志，也要防止多数人的权力侵害少数人的权利。民主的意义，不只是让多数人赢得投票，更是让每一位公民，无论属于多数还是少数，都能够在法律和制度的保障下享有平等的尊严与权利。

       民主，不只是少数服从多数。它既尊重多数人的选择，也守护少数人的权利；既允许公共决策形成，也允许不同声音存在。只有当每一个人的尊严都受到尊重、每一种观点都有表达和接受检验的机会时，民主才能不断修正错误、推动社会进步，并真正守护每一个人的自由。

编辑：李晶 校对：王滨 翻译：沈美花

Democracy Is More Than Just the Minority Subordinating to the Majority

Author: Lyu Feng

Abstract: Many people believe that democracy simply means “the minority is subordinate to the majority,” but this is only a part of democracy, not the whole. True democracy not only requires the majority to decide on public affairs, but more importantly, it needs to protect the rights of the minority, allowing different opinions to be expressed, heard, and examined. It is entirely normal to have differences of opinion; however, when faced with different voices, we should remain willing to respect, listen to, and protect their due rights.

Many people have a simple, or even one-sided, understanding of democracy: that the minority is subordinate to the majority.

This statement is not wrong, but it is incomplete.

Try asking yourself a question: If one day you became part of the minority, how would you want the majority to treat you?

I believe everyone hopes that their voice can be heard and their opinion respected, rather than being ignored or even forced to make sacrifices just because they are fewer in number.

Therefore, “the minority is subordinate to the majority” is merely a procedure for democracy to make public decisions, not the entirety of democracy. If democracy simply means letting 51% of the people decide the fate of the other 49%, then democracy risk degenerating into “the tyranny of the majority.” I believe that true democracy must not only respect the choice of the majority, but also protect the rights of the minority, and allow different opinions to be publicly expressed, discussed, and examined.

The so-called minority does not just refer to those who are fewer in number. They could be people with dissenting views, followers of different religions, different occupational groups, or simply those who disagree with you on a specific issue.

More importantly, no one can belong to the majority forever.

Today, you may stand on the side of the majority; tomorrow, you might become the minority due to an election, a policy, an identity, or even a single dissenting opinion. Therefore, protecting the rights of the minority is not about giving them special treatment, but about protecting every single person in the future.

Take an example from daily life.

Suppose a city needs to build a waste-to-energy incineration plant. For the sake of the city’s overall environmental sanitation, its construction may be necessary. But a new question arises: Where should it be built? No one wants a waste incineration plant built near their home. To the city as a whole, the nearby residents are just a minority; but to these residents, they are the ones who must bear the impact of noise, odor, increased traffic, and a decline in quality of life. If we simply understand this through “the minority is subordinate to the majority,” then since the vast majority of people support the construction, it seems the residents have no choice but to accept it. But a truly mature democratic society does not operate this way. Even if the waste incineration plant ultimately needs to be built for the public interest, the voices of those affected cannot be ignored just because they are fewer in number.

The government should fully disclose information, earnestly listen to residents’ opinions, study whether more reasonable alternatives exist, and safeguard the lawful rights and interests of the affected residents to the greatest extent possible.

Democracy is not about ensuring that everyone is satisfied, but about ensuring that everyone is respected.

Respecting the rights of the minority does not mean their opinions will definitely be adopted; rather, it means they have the opportunity to express their views, participate in discussions, and strive for their own rights and interests. The majority can make the final decision, but they cannot negate the dignity and lawful rights of the minority simply because they hold the advantage in numbers.

Democracy also means that no viewpoint should be denied expression just because it belongs to a minority.

History tells us that the opinions of the majority are not always correct, and the voices of the minority are not always wrong. For instance, when Galileo supported the heliocentric theory, his view belonged to the minority for a long time; when Martin Luther King Jr. fought for equal rights for African Americans, he also faced widespread opposition. Yet, through public discussion, the accumulation of facts, and the test of time, their ideas eventually gained broader recognition and propelled social progress.

Of course, this does not mean that minority opinions are always the truth. History has also seen many minority views ultimately proven wrong.

The value of democracy lies neither in defaulting that the majority is always right, nor in assuming that the minority is always right, but in giving different viewpoints the opportunity to be expressed and tested. Whether a viewpoint is correct should not be decided solely by the number of people who support it, but should be tested through facts, rational discussion, and time.

Precisely because of this, a mature democratic society must not only respect the choice of the majority, but must also protect the rights of the minority and listen to their voices. Because the one who needs to be heard today is someone else, but tomorrow it could be ourselves.

A truly civilized society is not one without differences, but one that can tolerate differences; it does not demand that everyone agree, but allows different viewpoints to coexist peacefully, seeking consensus in discussion and approaching truth in debate.

The American constitutional thinker James Madison once emphasized that a good democratic system must not only reflect the will of the majority, but also prevent the power of the majority from infringing upon the rights of the minority. The significance of democracy is not just to let the majority win the vote, but to ensure that every citizen, whether belonging to the majority or the minority, enjoys equal dignity and rights under the protection of laws and institutions.

Democracy is more than just the minority subordinating to the majority. It both respects the choice of the majority and guards the rights of the minority; it allows public decisions to be formed, and it allows different voices to exist. Only when every person’s dignity is respected, and every viewpoint has the opportunity to be expressed and tested, can democracy continuously correct its mistakes, promote social progress, and truly safeguard everyone’s freedom.

Editor: Li Jing Proofreader: Wang Bin Translator: Shen Meihua

作者：张兴贵

一切极权国家，总是文山会海、指导多、考察多、培训多、出差多，原因何在？想象一下，一台永不熄火的巨型绞肉机，它不是为了生产任何可见的产品，而是为了把其中的每一个个体——他们的时间、思想、情感乃至灵魂——都碾磨成同质的、细碎的、听话的粉末。这台机器的轰鸣声，便是极权主义日常运转的最真实写照：文件如雪片般飞舞，会议如潮水般涌来，指导如圣旨般层层下达，考察、培训、出差则像一场场永无止境的朝圣之旅，把人从熟悉的土地上连根拔起，再按官方模具重新铸造。

极权主义的本质，绝非传统暴君的“朕即国家”，而是一种对人类存在本身的全面占领与重塑。汉娜·阿伦特将其称为“运动的铁律”：它必须永不停歇地运动，才能维持“一切皆可能、一切皆属于国家”的恐怖幻象。一旦运动稍有停滞，社会就会像野草般自发生长出家庭的温情、地方的根脉、个人的反思与多元的缓冲。这些，都是极权无法容忍的“杂质”。于是，它发明了一整套精密而残酷的日常仪式：文多、会多、指导多、考察多、培训多、出差多，等等。这些不是低效的赘物，而是极权灵魂深处必然喷涌而出的毒血。它把宏观的极权野心，转化为微观却无处不在的、令人窒息的日常枷锁。

极权意识形态不是普通宣传，而是一套自封为“科学铁律”的封闭宇宙。它宣称自己洞悉了历史终点，必须把现实世界全部压扁，塞进这单一叙事之中。可现实是顽固的：它充满矛盾、地方差异与人的自发性。因此，极权必须制造一场永不落幕的认知战争。文件与指导，便是这场战争的“圣经”与“律令”。它们不是工具，而是神圣文本。顶层每一次心血来潮，都要化为成百上千份层层批示、细化到荒谬程度的“指导意见”，像蛛网一样覆盖社会的每一个角落。没有最新文件，下级便如无头苍蝇般恐惧；有了文件，便获得了“政治正确”的护身符。指导之多，恰恰暴露了极权对现实的极度不安全感，它害怕任何一粒未被驯服的沙子，都可能磨损意识形态机器的齿轮。

会议与培训，则是把抽象“真理”注入血肉的炼金术。在烟雾缭绕的会场里，在脱产培训的封闭营地中，人被集体的高压氛围所包围：读文件、谈体会、作检讨、表忠心。这不是交流，而是灵魂的公开处决与重生仪式——个体原有的经验、情感与判断被当场肢解，再按官方模板重组。

考察与出差，是这场仪式最生动的“朝圣”篇章。干部们被成群结队地拉上大巴或高铁，奔赴那些被精心包装的“圣地”——某先进村、某示范区、某革命旧址，鲜红的标语、整齐的笑容、被反复彩排的经验介绍。它表面喧嚣繁忙，内里却是死一般的寂静——因为所有真实的声音，都已被提前格式化。回来后，他们必须立刻转化为文件、会议和新一轮指导，把这场“朝圣”的精神鸦片，注射进更大范围的躯体。

文山会海成为对生命的慢性吞噬。人的时间像被吸入黑洞，再也找不到一寸属于自己的缝隙。阿伦特说，极权要消灭“自发性”——人天然的创造力、闲暇中的沉思、与亲友的真实联结。而这些“多”，正是反自发性的日常铁锤：它们把人变成永动的陀螺，旋转得越快，越没有精力去质疑陀螺本身为什么在转。整个体系像一条衔尾蛇：文件生会议，会议生培训，培训生出差，出差又生出更多文件，永无止境地吞噬自己的尾巴。

文山会海不是可以“改进”的作风问题，而是极权灵魂的必然投影。它吞噬的不是纸张和汽油，而是人的时间、尊严与可能性。只有当全面控制的现实被彻底驯服，当个体重新找回自发性，社会才能从这台永动绞肉机中解放出来，重新呼吸到自由而真实的空气。否则，那绞肉机将永不停息，把一代又一代人，碾磨成无声的粉末。

编辑：Gloria Wang 校对：熊辩 翻译：戈冰

The Phenomenon of Totalitarianism, Part III: The Rampancy of Formalism

Author: Zhang Xinggui

Abstract: This article explores the deep-seated reasons behind phenomena such as the mountain of documents and sea of meetings, frequent conferences, inspections, training sessions, and business trips under totalitarian systems. It argues that these are not merely forms of administrative inefficiency, but rather crucial mechanisms for maintaining political control and ideological operations. The article points out that through continuous mobilization, collective rituals, and layers of directives, individual time, thought, and judgment are constantly integrated into the operation of the system. This serves to consolidate power, maintain organizational obedience, and weaken social autonomy and pluralistic public spaces.

Every totalitarian state is invariably characterized by a mountain of documents and a sea of meetings, excessive guidance, frequent inspections, relentless training sessions, and constant business trips. What is the reason for this? Imagine a giant meat grinder that never stalls; it does not exist to manufacture any visible product, but rather to grind every single individual within it—their time, thoughts, emotions, and even souls—into a homogeneous, fine, and submissive powder. The roar of this machine is the truest depiction of the daily operation of totalitarianism: documents fly like snowflakes, meetings surge like tides, guidance is handed down layer by layer like imperial edicts, while inspections, training sessions, and business trips resemble an endless pilgrimage. They uproot people from their familiar soil, only to recast them according to the official mold.

The essence of totalitarianism is by no means the “I am the state” of traditional tyrants; rather, it is a comprehensive occupation and reshaping of human existence itself. Hannah Arendt termed this the “iron law of movement”: it must move ceaselessly to sustain the terrifying illusion that “everything is possible, and everything belongs to the state.” The moment the movement stagnates even slightly, society, like wild grass, will spontaneously grow familial warmth, local roots, personal reflection, and pluralistic buffers. These are all “impurities” that totalitarianism cannot tolerate. Consequently, it has invented a precise and brutal set of daily rituals: numerous documents, endless meetings, excessive guidance, frequent inspections, relentless training sessions, and constant business trips, among others. These are not superfluous byproducts of inefficiency, but the poisonous blood that inevitably wells up from the deepest depths of the totalitarian soul. It translates macro-level totalitarian ambitions into micro-level, omnipresent, and suffocating daily shackles.

Totalitarian ideology is not ordinary propaganda; rather, it is a closed universe that proclaims itself to be an “iron law of science.” It claims to have insight into the end of history and must completely flatten the real world to stuff it into this single narrative. Yet reality is stubborn: it is full of contradictions, local differences, and human spontaneity. Therefore, totalitarianism must manufacture a cognitive war that never ends. Documents and guidance are precisely the “bibles” and “decrees” of this war. They are not tools, but sacred texts. Every whim at the top must be transformed into hundreds or thousands of instructions issued layer by layer—”guiding opinions” detailed to an absurd degree, covering every corner of society like a spider’s web. Without the latest document, subordinates are paralyzed by fear like headless flies; with the document, they obtain an amulet of “political correctness.” The sheer abundance of guidance exposes precisely the totalitarian system’s profound sense of insecurity regarding reality; it fears that even a single grain of untamed sand might wear down the gears of the ideological machine.

Meetings and training sessions are the alchemy that injects abstract “truth” into flesh and blood. In smoke-filled meeting rooms and closed-off camps for detached training, individuals are surrounded by a collective high-pressure atmosphere: reading documents, sharing reflections, making self-criticisms, and expressing loyalty. This is not communication, but a public execution and rebirth ritual of the soul—the individual’s original experiences, emotions, and judgments are dismembered on the spot, only to be reassembled according to the official template.

Inspections and business trips are the most vivid “pilgrimage” chapters of this ritual. Cadres are bundled in groups onto buses or high-speed rails and rushed to those meticulously packaged “holy sites”—a certain advanced village, a certain demonstration zone, a certain revolutionary historical site—featuring bright red slogans, orderly smiles, and repeatedly rehearsed introductions of experience. On the surface, it is bustling and busy, but inside, there is a deathly silence—because all authentic voices have been formatted in advance. Upon their return, they must immediately translate this into documents, meetings, and a new round of guidance, injecting the spiritual opium of this “pilgrimage” into a wider body.

The mountain of documents and sea of meetings become a chronic consumption of life. Human time is sucked into a black hole, leaving not an inch of a crevice belonging to oneself. Arendt said that totalitarianism seeks to eliminate “spontaneity”—human beings’ natural creativity, contemplation during leisure, and genuine connections with relatives and friends. And these “excesses” are precisely the daily iron hammers against spontaneity: they turn people into perpetually spinning tops; the faster they spin, the less energy they have to question why the top itself is spinning. The entire system resembles an Ouroboros: documents breed meetings, meetings breed training, training breeds business trips, and business trips breed even more documents, endlessly devouring its own tail.

The mountain of documents and sea of meetings is not a style-of-work problem that can be “improved”; rather, it is the inevitable projection of the totalitarian soul. What it devours is not paper and gasoline, but human time, dignity, and possibilities. Only when the reality of total control is thoroughly tamed, and when individuals reclaim their spontaneity, can society be liberated from this perpetual meat grinder and breathe the free and real air once again. Otherwise, that meat grinder will never stop, grinding generation after generation into silent powder.

Editor: Gloria Wang Proofreader: Xiong Bian Translator: Ge Bing

作者：张  宇        

       小洛熙已经离开我们半年多的光景了。

一个五个月大的婴儿，尚未学会说话，尚未来得及认识这个世界，却在一场本应救治生命的医疗过程中失去了生命。对于任何一个正常社会而言，当这样的悲剧发生，人们最关心的问题应该是：到底发生了什么？是谁做出了关键决定？手术是否必要？风险是否被充分评估？责任是否存在？制度是否出现了问题？这些问题原本应当成为事件发展的中心。

然而，随着时间推移，人们却看到了一幅越来越荒诞的画面。围绕小洛熙死亡本身的讨论逐渐被边缘化，而围绕她父母、支持者以及发生者的关注却不断增加。那些要求公开调查的人被警惕，那些持续追问的人被质疑，那些从全国各地赶来提供帮助的陌生人被贴上各种标签。原本应当面对质询的对象逐渐退到幕后，而提出质询的人却被推到了聚光灯下。

仿佛在不知不觉之间，问题已经发生了转换。

一个婴儿为什么会死，似乎不再是最重要的问题；为什么还有人不断追问她的死亡，反而成为新的问题。

当一个社会面对悲剧时，如果焦点开始从事实转向提问者，从责任转向质疑者，从调查真相转向管理舆论，那么真正被改变的就不只是事件本身，而是整个社会处理问题的逻辑。

人们会发现，在很多公共事件中，总有一种熟悉的轨迹不断重复：问题出现、公众追问、舆论升温、讨论的重心开始转移；不再是谁造成了问题，而是谁在传播问题；不再是谁应该负责，而是谁在组织关注；不再是真相是否被查明，而是声音是否被控制。于是，真正的问题被不断后移，而提出问题的人则越来越靠近风暴中心。这也是为什么小洛熙事件已经不仅仅是一场关于医疗责任的讨论。

它正在变成一面镜子。

透过这面镜子，人们看到的不只是一个家庭的悲剧，不只是一次医疗争议，而是一套更加深层的治理逻辑：当中国共产党无法迅速消除问题时，它往往会优先消除问题带来的影响；当真相可能引发更多追问时，追问本身便会被视为风险；当公众要求解释时，管理公众有时比解释问题更加重要。

因此，这篇文章真正想讨论的，并不是某一场手术的技术细节。而是一个更加根本的问题：一个五个月大的婴儿已经失去了生命。那么今天，究竟是谁还在害怕真相？

从医疗事件到维稳事件

在一个正常社会里，当一名婴儿在医疗过程中死亡，事件的发展方向应该十分清晰：公众关注事实，媒体追踪调查，家属要求解释，监管机构查明责任。整个社会围绕着同一个核心问题运转：到底发生了什么，以及如何避免类似悲剧再次发生。

然而在中国，许多公共事件的发展轨迹却往往截然不同。

最初，人们讨论的是事故本身，但随着时间推移，讨论的重点却逐渐从事故转向舆论，从责任转向稳定，从真相转向控制。原本应当被放在显微镜下审视的决策过程、监管机制和责任链条，反而慢慢退到幕后。而那些不断发声的人，那些要求调查真相的人，那些拒绝接受含糊解释的人，却越来越成为关注的焦点。

这并非偶然。

因为在中国共产党长期建立的治理逻辑中，许多公共危机首先被定义为“稳定问题”，其次才是“责任问题”。当一起事件引发广泛关注时，体制最优先考虑的往往不是如何公开透明地回应质疑，而是如何防止事件继续扩大影响。于是，一个原本关于生命与责任的事件，开始被纳入维稳框架之中。

这正是中国共产党治理体系最具争议、也最令人不安的地方。

一个真正自信的政府不会害怕调查，因为调查能够证明自身的清白；一个真正尊重生命的政府不会害怕追问，因为追问能够帮助发现问题；一个真正相信法治的国家不会害怕公众监督，因为监督本身就是法治运行的一部分。

但当一个政权对质疑表现出本能的紧张，对讨论表现出持续的警惕，对公众形成共识表现出明显的不安时，人们就不得不思考一个问题：它究竟是在维护真相，还是在维护权力的形象？

中国共产党经常强调“人民至上” “生命至上”，但在许多公共事件中，人们看到的却是另一种优先顺序：首先考虑舆情是否可控，其次考虑事件是否扩散，然后才轮到责任是否厘清。这样的逻辑之下，生命容易被抽象成为数字，家属容易被视为不稳定因素，而社会关注则被当成需要处置的对象。

也正因为如此，小洛熙事件所引发的讨论，早已超越了一场单纯的医疗争议。它让人们看到的，不只是一个家庭的悲痛，更是一种长期存在的治理惯性：当问题出现时，中共体制首先想到的往往不是如何回应问题，而是如何管理问题带来的影响。

这也正是为什么，人们今天讨论的已经不仅仅是一个婴儿的死亡，而是一个更大的问题：当悲剧发生之后，中国共产党究竟是在寻找真相，还是在寻找让人停止追问真相的方法。

帮助他们的陌生人也会成为目标？

如果说小洛熙父母遭遇压力还可以被解释为维稳体系对于“事件当事人”的惯性反应，那么更值得警惕的现象是：那些与事件毫无直接关系、只是出于同情和良知而提供帮助的人，也开始成为被关注和被怀疑的对象。

在许多国家，当一个家庭遭遇重大不幸事件时，来自社会的支持是一件再正常不过的事情。陌生人捐款、律师提供法律援助、志愿者协助整理资料、媒体帮忙传播信息，这些都是公民社会自发运转的一部分。它意味着人与人之间仍然存在信任，也意味着当个体面对强大机构时，不会被迫独自承受一切。

然而在中国，这种自发的社会联结却经常被赋予另一层含义。

当越来越多的人开始关注小洛熙事件，当一些陌生人从全国各地到宁波来声援家属、帮助维权、陪伴他们继续追问真相时，围绕这些支持者的质疑和警惕也随之出现。在一些官方网络舆论中，人们熟悉的标签再次出现：有人被怀疑是“境外势力企图分裂”，有人被暗示“借机炒作”，有人被怀疑是“别有用心”，有人甚至被指责是在制造对立、影响稳定。

这样的逻辑其实并不陌生。长期以来，中国共产党面对公共事件时，往往并不把公民之间的自发组织视为社会活力的一部分，而更倾向于将其视为潜在风险。因为对于高度依赖集中控制的治理体系而言，最令人不安的并不是某一个具体事件，而是人们开始因为这个事件而形成独立于权力之外的联接。

这正是维稳逻辑最核心的特点：中国共产党害怕的往往不是问题本身，而是问题引发的社会共鸣。

因此，人们经常看到一种令人困惑的现象：面对公众的质疑，中国体制首先想到的并不是如何回应质疑；面对社会的关注，首先考虑的也不是如何公开信息。相反，更多精力被投入到控制影响、限制扩散和削弱关注之中。原本应当被鼓励的社会互助，被怀疑为有组织行动；原本应该被尊重的公民参与，被视为需要警惕的因素。

从表面上看，这似乎是在维护秩序。但从更深层来看，它反映的是一种对社会自主力量的不信任。

这也是为什么许多人批评中国共产党的维稳体系已经形成一种固定模式：当问题无法迅速解决时，注意力便转向那些持续关注问题的人；当公众无法被说服时，重点便转向如何减少公众之间的联系；当真相无法尽快平息争议时，管理争议本身往往会被置于更优先的位置。

然而，一个值得所有人思考的问题是：如果一个五个月大的婴儿离世之后，人们给予家属支持都能被视为风险；如果普通公民表达同情、提供帮助都可能被怀疑为别有用心；如果社会最基本的人与人之间的善意联结都需要被纳入维稳视野，那么真正受到威胁的，究竟是社会稳定，还是社会本身？

中国共产党最害怕什么？

中国共产党真正害怕的，从来不是某一个具体事件。

它害怕的，是人们通过一个事件开始形成共同认知；害怕的是原来互不认识的人因为同一种愤怒而站在一起；害怕的是公众在官方叙事之外建立属于自己的判断体系。

对于一个拥有庞大宣传系统和严密社会控制体系的执政党而言，最重要的并不仅仅是管理现实，更是管理人们对现实的理解。当一种解释能够被普遍接受时，统治成本会大幅降低；但当越来越多人开始独立思考、独立判断、独立得出结论时，中共独裁者的权力对于社会认知的控制力就会逐渐削弱。

因此，中国共产党最敏感的，从来不是单个受害者，而是受害者背后逐渐形成的公共共识。

从这个角度看，小洛熙事件所触碰的，其实正是中国共产党最不愿意面对的东西——社会自发形成的信任与联接。在官方控制之外，人们互相帮助；在官方控制之外，人们互相交换信息；在官方控制之外，人们独立思考。这种过程本身就意味着一种独立公共空间的出现。而中国共产党长期以来最警惕的，恰恰就是这种不依赖中共权力授权而形成的公共力量。

对于任何权力而言，最难控制的从来不是愤怒。

而是觉醒。

一个社会是否文明，不在于它如何对待强者，而在于它如何对待最弱小的人；一个政权是否自信，也不在于它拥有多么强大的权力，而在于它是否有勇气面对真相。

如果一个五个月大的婴儿离世之后，最需要被管理的是声音，最需要被压缩的是讨论，最需要被警惕的是关心她的人，那么我们不得不追问：究竟是谁在害怕真相？

因为真相从来不会伤害一个正当的制度。

害怕真相的，绝对不是失去孩子的父母，不是要求解释的公众，也不是伸出援手的陌生人。

真正害怕真相的，永远是那些无法面对真相的人。

编辑：Geoffrey Jin       校对：熊辩 翻译：沈美花

Who is Afraid of the Truth?

Author: Zhang Yu

Abstract: Taking the incident of baby Xiao Luoxi as an entry point, this article explores how the focus of public attention gradually shifts from the truth of the incident to the questioners and the public opinion itself after a public tragedy occurs. The article argues that when holding perpetrators accountable gives way to public opinion management, and truth investigation gives way to risk control, the incident transcends an individual case and reflects the deep logic of public governance and crisis response. The Xiao Luoxi incident is not merely a medical dispute; it has become an important case for observing public power, information processing, and social trust.

Baby Xiao Luoxi has been gone from us for more than half a year now.

A five-month-old infant, who had not yet learned to speak and had not yet had time to know this world, lost her life in a medical process that was supposed to save lives. For any normal society, when such a tragedy occurs, the questions people care about most should be: What exactly happened? Who made the critical decision? Was the surgery necessary? Were the risks fully assessed? Does liability exist? Is there a systemic flaw? These questions should have naturally become the center of the event’s development.

However, as time passed, people witnessed an increasingly absurd picture. Discussions surrounding the death of Xiao Luoxi itself were gradually marginalized, while attention surrounding her parents, supporters, and those speaking out continued to escalate. Those who demanded an open investigation were viewed with suspicion; those who continuously questioned were doubted; and those strangers who rushed from all over the country to offer help were slapped with various labels. The subjects who should have faced interrogation gradually retreated behind the scenes, while the people raising the questions were pushed into the spotlight.

As if imperceptibly, the question itself had been switched.

Why an infant died seemed to no longer be the most important question; why there are still people constantly questioning her death, instead, became the new question.

When a society faces a tragedy, if the focus begins to shift from facts to the questioners, from accountability to the doubters, and from investigating the truth to managing public opinion, then what is truly changed is not just the incident itself, but the entire logic of how society handles problems.

People will find that in many public incidents, a familiar trajectory constantly repeats itself: a problem emerges, the public questions it, public opinion heats up, and then the focus of the discussion begins to shift. It is no longer about who caused the problem, but who is spreading the problem; it is no longer about who should be held responsible, but who is organizing the attention; it is no longer about whether the truth has been ascertained, but whether the voices have been controlled. Consequently, the real problem is continuously pushed backward, while the people raising the problem move closer and closer to the center of the storm. This is also why the Xiao Luoxi incident has already become far more than a discussion about medical liability.

It is becoming a mirror.

Through this mirror, what people see is not just a family’s tragedy, nor just a medical dispute, but a deeper logic of governance: When the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) cannot swiftly eliminate a problem, it often prioritizes eliminating the impact brought by the problem; when the truth might trigger more questioning, the questioning itself is regarded as a risk; when the public demands an explanation, managing the public is sometimes more important than explaining the problem.

Therefore, what this article truly wants to discuss is not the technical details of a certain surgery. Rather, it is a more fundamental question: A five-month-old infant has already lost her life. So today, who exactly is still afraid of the truth?

From a Medical Incident to a Stability Maintenance Incident

In a normal society, when an infant dies during a medical process, the direction of the incident’s development should be very clear: the public focuses on the facts, the media tracks and investigates, the family demands an explanation, and regulatory agencies determine accountability. The entire society revolves around the same core question: What exactly happened, and how can similar tragedies be avoided in the future?

However, in China, the trajectory of many public incidents is often completely different.

Initially, people discuss the accident itself, but as time passes, the focus of the discussion gradually shifts from the accident to public opinion, from accountability to stability, and from the truth to control. The decision-making process, regulatory mechanisms, and chains of responsibility—which should have been placed under a microscope—instead slowly retreat behind the scenes. Meanwhile, those who continuously speak out, those who demand to know the truth, and those who refuse to accept vague explanations increasingly become the center of attention.

This is by no means accidental.

Because within the governance logic long established by the Chinese Communist Party, many public crises are defined first as “stability issues” and only secondarily as “accountability issues.” When an incident triggers widespread attention, the highest priority of the regime is often not how to respond to doubts openly and transparently, but how to prevent the incident from further expanding its influence. Thus, an incident that was originally about life and responsibility begins to be incorporated into the framework of stability maintenance (Weiven).

This is precisely the most controversial and unsettling aspect of the Chinese Communist Party’s governance system.

A truly confident government does not fear investigations, because investigations can prove its innocence; a government that truly respects life does not fear questioning, because questioning can help discover problems; a country that truly believes in the rule of law does not fear public scrutiny, because scrutiny itself is part of the functioning of the rule of law.

But when a regime displays an instinctive nervousness toward doubts, maintains a continuous vigilance toward discussions, and exhibits obvious unease when the public forms a consensus, people cannot help but ponder a question: Is it safeguarding the truth, or is it safeguarding the image of its power?

The Chinese Communist Party frequently emphasizes “people first” and “life first,” but in many public incidents, what people see is a different order of priority: first, consider whether public opinion is controllable; second, consider whether the incident is spreading; and only then is it the turn for whether accountability has been clarified. Under such logic, lives can easily be abstracted into numbers, family members are easily viewed as unstable factors, and social concern is treated as an object to be disposed of.

Precisely because of this, the discussion sparked by the Xiao Luoxi incident has long transcended a simple medical dispute. What it reveals to people is not just a family’s grief, but a long-existing inertia of governance: When a problem arises, the first thought of the CCP apparatus is often not how to resolve the problem, but how to manage the impact brought by the problem.

This is also exactly why what people are discussing today is no longer just the death of an infant, but a larger question: After a tragedy occurs, is the Chinese Communist Party searching for the truth, or is it searching for a method to make people stop questioning the truth?

Will the Strangers Helping Them Become Targets Too?

If the pressure encountered by Xiao Luoxi’s parents can still be explained as the habitual reaction of the stability maintenance system toward the “parties involved in the incident,” then an even more alarming phenomenon is this: those who have no direct relationship to the incident and are merely offering help out of sympathy and conscience are also beginning to become targets of surveillance and suspicion.

In many countries, when a family encounters a major unfortunate event, support from society is an entirely normal occurrence. Strangers donate money, lawyers provide legal aid, volunteers assist in organizing data, and the media helps spread information—these are all part of the spontaneous functioning of a civil society. It means that trust still exists between human beings, and it also means that when an individual faces a powerful institution, they will not be forced to endure everything alone.

However, in China, this kind of spontaneous social connection is frequently endowed with another layer of meaning.

As more and more people began to pay attention to the Xiao Luoxi incident, and as some strangers came to Ningbo from all over the country to voice solidarity with the family, help them defend their rights, and accompany them to continue questioning the truth, skepticism and vigilance surrounding these supporters emerged alongside them. In some official online public opinion venues, familiar labels reappeared: some people were suspected of being “foreign forces attempting to create divisions,” some were implied to be “using the opportunity to hype things up,” some were suspected of “having ulterior motives,” and some were even accused of creating confrontation and affecting stability.

Such logic is actually not unfamiliar. For a long time, when facing public incidents, the Chinese Communist Party has often not viewed spontaneous organization among citizens as part of social vitality, but has preferred to view it as a potential risk. Because for a governance system that relies heavily on centralized control, the most unsettling thing is not a specific incident itself, but that people begin to form connections outside of power because of that incident.

This is the most core characteristic of the stability maintenance logic: What the Chinese Communist Party fears is often not the problem itself, but the social resonance triggered by the problem.

Therefore, people frequently witness a baffling phenomenon: Facing public doubts, the Chinese system’s first thought is not how to respond to the doubts; facing social concern, its first consideration is also not how to disclose information. On the contrary, more energy is invested into controlling the impact, restricting the spread, and weakening the attention. Social mutual aid, which should have been encouraged, is suspected as organized action; citizen participation, which should have been respected, is viewed as a factor requiring vigilance.

On the surface, this seems to be maintaining order. But from a deeper perspective, it reflects a distrust of the autonomous forces of society.

This is also why many people criticize that the CCP’s stability maintenance system has formed a fixed pattern: When a problem cannot be solved quickly, attention turns to those who continuously pay attention to the problem; when the public cannot be persuaded, the focus turns to how to reduce the connections among the public; when the truth cannot quickly pacify controversy, managing the controversy itself is often placed in a more prioritized position.

However, a question worth pondering for everyone is: If after a five-month-old infant passes away, people giving support to the family can be viewed as a risk; if ordinary citizens expressing sympathy and offering help can be suspected of having ulterior motives; if the most basic benevolent connection between human beings in society needs to be brought into the vision of stability maintenance, then what is truly being threatened—is it social stability, or society itself?

What Does the Chinese Communist Party Fear Most?

What the Chinese Communist Party truly fears has never been a single, specific incident.

What it fears is that people begin to form a common cognition through an incident; it fears that people who did not know each other originally stand together because of the same anger; it fears that the public establishes their own system of judgment outside of the official narrative.

For a ruling party possessing a massive propaganda system and a strict system of social control, the most important thing is not just managing reality, but managing people’s understanding of reality. When an explanation can be universally accepted, the cost of ruling drops drastically; but when more and more people begin to think independently, judge independently, and arrive at conclusions independently, the control of the CCP dictator’s power over social cognition will gradually erode.

Therefore, what the Chinese Communist Party is most sensitive to has never been an individual victim, but the public consensus that gradually forms behind the victim.

From this perspective, what the Xiao Luoxi incident has touched upon is precisely what the Chinese Communist Party is least willing to face—trust and connections spontaneously formed by society. Outside of official control, people help each other; outside of official control, people exchange information; outside of official control, people think independently. This process itself signifies the emergence of an independent public space. And what the Chinese Communist Party has been most vigilant against for a long time is precisely this kind of public power formed without the authorization of the CCP’s power.

For any power, the hardest thing to control has never been anger.

It is awakening.

Whether a society is civilized depends not on how it treats the strong, but on how it treats the weakest; whether a regime is confident also depends not on how much formidable power it possesses, but on whether it has the courage to face the truth.

If after a five-month-old infant passes away, what needs to be managed most is the voice, what needs to be compressed most is the discussion, and what needs to be guarded against most are the people who care about her, then we must demand to know: Who exactly is afraid of the truth?

Because the truth never harms a legitimate system.

Those who fear the truth are absolutely not the parents who lost their child, not the public demanding an explanation, and not the strangers who extended a helping hand.

Those who truly fear the truth will always be those who cannot face the truth.

Editor: Geoffrey Jin Proofreader: Xiong Bian Translator: Shen Meihua

作者：张兴贵  

领导抓得细，控制一切，这是贯穿极权体制运行的血肉机制。从最高领袖到基层细胞，每一根神经都绷紧，每一个细节都不放过。极权主义不同于传统的专制，它不满足于控制宏观权力，而是追求“全控”——全面控制人的思想、行为乃至私生活。领袖或核心集团必须“抓得细”，才能实现“控制一切”。这种“细”，体现在组织结构的毛细血管化、监控的无死角化、日常生活的政治化管理上。

首先，看组织结构的“细”。极权体制下，权力不是松散的，而是高度层级化、网格化。每一个单位、每一个社区、每一个家庭，几乎都被嵌入严密的控制链条。以20世纪的经典案例为例，斯大林时期的苏联建立了从中央到集体农庄、再到每一个生产小组的垂直指挥系统。领导干部不仅要管产量，还要管思想汇报、个人生活作风，甚至家庭成员的言论。谁家来了客人、说了什么、信件内容，都可能成为审查对象。

这种“抓细”在中国历史上有深刻体现，单位制、街道居委会、人民公社、生产队，一直到“小组学习”和“互相监督”，把社会原子彻底组织化。领导者要求“一竿子插到底”，村支书要知道每家每户的存粮、思想动态，甚至夫妻吵架都要调解“以阶级斗争为纲”。表面是“关心群众”，实质是消除任何可能游离于控制之外的私人空间。一个人如果想保持一点独立的精神生活，都会被视为“危险”。

其次，是监控手段的“细”。极权领导者深知，粗放控制容易留下漏洞，必须依靠技术与人力的双重细密织网。现代极权更是把这一特征推向极致。大数据、摄像头、天网工程、个人信用体系、社交媒体实时监测，让“领导抓细”有了前所未有的技术翅膀。一个人今天浏览了什么文章、转发了什么观点、和谁私下聊天、消费记录如何、出行轨迹怎样……全部被数据化、标签化。一旦系统判定你为“异常”，细微的警告、谈话、限制就会接踵而至。这种控制不再需要大规模公开暴力，而是通过“精准滴灌”式的压力实现，让个体在无声中自我驯化。

更可怕的是日常生活被彻底政治化。极权主义不满足于你服从，它要你“主动拥护”。于是，早餐吃什么、穿什么衣服、朋友圈发什么、甚至表情包的使用，都可能被赋予政治意义。领导者通过反复的“学习”、表态、检查，把意识形态渗透到最琐碎的细节中。你必须时刻保持警惕，因为任何一次“松懈”都可能被解读为不忠。久而久之，人们学会了表演性忠诚：公开场合高喊口号，私下却麻木空虚。这正是极权想要的结果——它不需要你真心相信，只需要你彻底服从，并让服从成为生存本能。

这种“抓得细、控制一切”的现象，根源在于极权主义的核心逻辑：领袖或党必须被视为绝对正确，永不犯错的化身。为了维护这一神话，就不能允许任何不受控的变量存在。经济波动、社会矛盾、思想异见、文化多样性……所有这些在自由社会被视为正常的现象，在极权看来都是“失控”的风险。因此，必须把一切抓在手里、细到不能再细。

在全球化与科技时代，极权主义并未消失，它只是换上了更精致、更隐蔽的外衣。它可能以“国家安全”“社会稳定”“共同富裕”等美好名义出现，却在实践中不断延伸控制的触角：从经济决策到文化创作，从教育内容到私人言论，从生育政策到养老安排，无一不试图“抓细”。当一个社会越来越习惯于“领导替我们想好了”“上面会安排”的思维时，我们就离极权更近了一步。

我想借用一句哲人的话：极权主义最可怕的地方，不在于它公开的残暴，而在于它把残暴变成了日常，把控制变成了“爱”。当领导者以“为你好”的名义抓得越来越细时，我们必须保持清醒的头脑、独立的思考并勇敢地发声。否则，失去的将不仅是自由，还有人的尊严和未来的希望。

编辑：Gloria Wang  校对：熊辩 翻译：沈美花

Phenomenon of Totalitarianism No. 4: Leadership Grasping the Micro-details, Controlling Everything

Author: Zhang Xinggui

Abstract: This article explores the operational logic of “leadership grasping micro-details and controlling everything” within a totalitarian system, analyzing how power penetrates into all levels of society through strict organizational structures, daily management, and surveillance mechanisms. The article points out that totalitarian politics not only seeks control over the public sphere, but also attempts to extend to individual thought, behavior, and private life. By strengthening governance through institutionalized management and technological surveillance, it reflects the governance characteristic of pursuing total control.

Leadership grasping the micro-details and controlling everything is the flesh-and-blood mechanism that runs through the operation of a totalitarian system. From the supreme leader down to the grassroots cells, every nerve is strained, and not a single detail is overlooked. Totalitarianism differs from traditional autocracy; it is not satisfied with controlling macro-power, but instead pursues “total control”—comprehensively controlling people’s thoughts, behaviors, and even their private lives. The leader or the core bloc must “grasp the micro-details” to achieve “controlling everything.” This “micro-level granularity” is manifested in the capillarization of organizational structures, the zero-blind-spot nature of surveillance, and the politicized management of daily life.

First, let us look at the “micro-details” of the organizational structure. Under a totalitarian system, power is not loose, but highly hierarchical and grid-managed. Every work unit, every neighborhood, and every family is embedded into a strict chain of control. Taking classic 20th-century cases as an example, the Soviet Union during the Stalin era established a vertical command system stretching from the central government to collective farms, and further down to every single production team. Leading cadres were not only responsible for managing production output, but also for managing ideological self-reports, personal lifestyles, and even the speech of family members. Who visited a household as a guest, what was said, and the contents of letters could all become objects of scrutiny.

This practice of “grasping micro-details” is profoundly reflected in Chinese history. The Danwei (work unit) system, neighborhood committees, People’s Communes, and production teams, extending all the way to “study groups” and “mutual surveillance,” completely organized atomized individuals in society. Leaders demand “poking a pole all the way to the bottom”; a village Party secretary needed to know the grain reserves and ideological dynamics of every single household, and would even mediate quarrels between husbands and wives under the banner of “taking class struggle as the key link.” On the surface, it appeared to be “caring for the masses,” but in essence, it was to eliminate any private space that might drift outside of control. If a person wished to maintain even a modicum of independent spiritual life, it would be viewed as a “danger.”

Secondly, there are the “micro-details” of surveillance methods. Totalitarian leaders know well that crude control easily leaves loopholes; therefore, they must rely on a dense, dual network woven of both technology and human effort. Modern totalitarianism has pushed this characteristic to its absolute extreme. Big data, surveillance cameras, the Skynet Project, personal credit systems, and real-time monitoring of social media have given the “leadership grasping micro-details” unprecedented technological wings. What articles a person browsed today, what viewpoints they forwarded, whom they chatted with privately, what their consumption records look like, and what their travel trajectories were—all are completely digitized and tagged. Once the system judges you as an “anomaly,” subtle warnings, talks, and restrictions will follow one after another.This kind of control no longer requires large-scale public violence; instead, it is realized through pressure applied in a “precision drip-irrigation” style, causing individuals to quietly domesticate themselves.

What is even more terrifying is the complete politicization of daily life. Totalitarianism is not satisfied with your mere compliance; it demands your “active support.” Consequently, what you eat for breakfast, what clothes you wear, what you post in your WeChat Moments, and even the use of emojis can be endowed with political significance. Through repeated “study,” taking a stance, and inspections, leaders penetrate ideology into the most trivial details. You must remain vigilant at all times, because any single instance of “slackness” could be interpreted as disloyalty. Over time, people learn to practice performative loyalty: shouting slogans in public spaces while feeling numb and empty in private. This is precisely the result that totalitarianism desires—it does not need you to truly believe; it only requires you to completely obey, and to let obedience become a survival instinct.

The root cause of this phenomenon of “leadership grasping micro-details and controlling everything” lies in the core logic of totalitarianism: the leader or the Party must be viewed as absolutely correct, the incarnation of never making a mistake. To maintain this myth, no uncontrolled variables can be permitted to exist. Economic fluctuations, social contradictions, ideological dissent, cultural diversity… all these phenomena, which are viewed as normal in a free society, are regarded as risks of “losing control” in the eyes of totalitarianism. Therefore, everything must be gripped in their hands, detailed down to the absolute minutiae.

In the era of globalization and technology, totalitarianism has not disappeared; it has merely changed into a more refined and concealed cloak. It may appear under beautiful names such as “national security,” “social stability,” or “common prosperity,” yet in practice, it continuously extends its tentacles of control: from economic decision-making to cultural creation, from educational content to private speech, and from fertility policies to eldercare arrangements—without exception, it attempts to “grasp the micro-details.” When a society becomes increasingly accustomed to the mindset of “the leadership has thought it through for us” or “the higher-ups will arrange it,” we are one step closer to totalitarianism.

I would like to borrow the words of a philosopher: The most terrifying aspect of totalitarianism lies not in its overt brutality, but in its turning brutality into the everyday routine, and turning control into “love.” When leaders grasp increasingly tighter micro-details under the guise of “doing it for your own good,” we must maintain a clear head, independent thinking, and speak out bravely. Otherwise, what we lose will be not only our freedom, but also human dignity and hope for the future.

Editor: Gloria Wang Proofreader: Xiong Bian Translator: Shen Meihua

作者：漠北独侠 漠北孤侠@baodiantimes

在极权政治的叙事逻辑中，“控制”与“渗透”永远是一体两面的核心课题。海外媒体披露关于北京计划在严密监控下，允许“走出去”与“请进来”两类特定人群通过官方合规通道访问国际互联网的消息，恰恰为这一逻辑提供了最新的注脚：“暴力”+“谎言”治国。这绝非中国互联网走向真正开放的信号，而是一场经过精心算计的“数字出征”。其背后折射出的，依然是这个政权赖以起家且从未动摇的治国方略——“枪杆子（刀把子）+ 笔杆子”，即“暴力”加“谎言”的现代翻版。

核心逻辑的“与时俱进”：旧瓶装新酒的数字传教

从历史的纵深来看，此次大幅扩大体制内人员“持证翻墙”的范围，其一贯逻辑与一个甲子前向东南亚及全球输出红色共产理论、鼓动暴力颠覆别国政权的做法并无二致。

• 六十年前，输出的是粗砺的阶级斗争口号；
• 而今天，裹挟在高效、快速、极具煽动力的互联网叙事中的，是精心包装的“大外宣”话语。

在对内筑起更高、更严密的“网络防火墙”，严厉打击普通民众使用VPN等“翻墙”行为的同时，官方却组织起一支“政治绝对可靠”的互联网正规军。这种“只许我输出，不许你流入”的策略，旨在国内形成彻底的信息真空，在国外实现精准的舆论污染。这本质上是一种披着互联网技术外套的隐密意识形态输出，其性价比更高，爆发力更强，破坏性也更具隐蔽性。

环环相扣的“大棋局”与混乱制造者

这套日臻成熟的“网络舆论战”与“混合战”战法，在近年来的国际局势中已初显成效。从欧洲极右翼与极左翼思潮背后的网络水军推波助澜，到美国大选期间的虚假信息认知战，再到东亚邻国的舆论分化，其终极目的清晰可见：唯恐天下不乱，趁乱谋取地缘利益。

在这盘步步惊心的大棋中，互联网舆论战从来不是孤立存在的，而是与其整体战略紧密交织：

• 供应链武器化：从稀土等稀缺原材料的出口管制，到关键药品的供应链卡脖子。
• 灰色地带冲突：从频繁发生的关键海底光缆“意外”中断事件，到由国家背景黑客发动的针对西方基础设施的互联网军队攻击。
• 终极宏大叙事：所有这些看似孤立的“点火”行为，最终指向的都是所谓的“人类命运共同体”——一个将全人类的命运、数据、言论与财富都攥在极权手心的威权乌托邦。

破局之法：打破不对称，重筑自由世界的防线

面对这头兼具暴力与数字化谎言的庞然大物，国际社会与自由力量如果继续采取传统的、被动的“对等原则”，势必将在不对称博弈中节节败退。破解这套“数码极权输出”的组合拳，必须直击其痛点：

1. 打破信息黑箱：定向精准“推墙” 既然北京最恐惧的是国内民众获知真相，那么自由世界最强有力的反制不是被动防御其“外宣”，而是主动向中国国内定向输送真实，未经过滤的信息。加大对反封锁技术（抗审查翻墙工具、卫星互联网等）的研发与资金投入，让中国普通民众能够自由连接世界，从根本上瓦解其国内的洗脑基本盘。
2. 建立法律与技术防火墙：严惩“持证网军” 国际社交平台和西方政府必须清醒认识到，这些在省级、国家级网信办层层政审、备案后“奉旨出征”的账号，绝非普通网民，而是由国家机器驱动的“舆论军人”。必须建立严格的身份溯源机制，对于来自特定官方通道、有组织操纵舆论的账号，应果断予以封禁和制裁。同时，在法律层面将此类行为定义为“外国代理人”的隐蔽干涉。
3. 强化基础设施弹性与技术反制 针对黑客攻击、切断海底光缆、供应链要挟等物理和数字层面的混合威胁，自由阵营必须加快推行供应链重组与去风险。建立多轨制的备用网络（如低轨卫星通信网络），提升关键基础设施的免疫力，并在遭受国家级网络攻击时，保留实施“对等反击”的威慑能力。

历史早已证明，依靠暴力维持的体制，必须依赖谎言来续命。企图通过选派大量党员干部冲进国际互联网来抢占所谓的“宣传制高点”，恰恰暴露了其对自由信息和真相进入国内的极端恐惧。多披一层互联网的外套，改变不了其反人类、反自由的本质。

自由世界唯有放弃幻想，以攻代守，方能在这场数字时代的文明攻防战中，彻底粉碎其威权扩张的迷梦。早已是惊弓之鸟的中共，妄图以互联网之“网”护其政权免于崩溃，妄想症再次加重而已。历史潮流浩浩荡荡不可阻挡，君不见星链和美国的破墙计划歩步为营、进逼围剿，挣扎茍活的中共只能望“网”兴叹、徒唉奈何。

编辑：Geoffrey Jin   校对：熊辩 翻译：沈美花

The “New Gate” of the Great Firewall: From Exporting Red Revolution to Exporting Digital Authoritarianism

Author: Mobei Duxia (The Lone Ranger of Mobei) / Mobei Guxia @baodiantimes

Abstract: This article discusses China’s proposed policy to expand the scope of specific personnel accessing the international internet through official channels. It argues that this move is not a sign of internet openness, but rather an external propaganda strategy that combines digital technology with official narratives. While maintaining domestic information control, this approach leverages international internet platforms to expand influence, forming an information governance model that differentiates between the domestic and the foreign. The article further analyzes its connections with online public opinion, geopolitics, and hybrid strategies, and calls on free societies to strengthen information resilience and democratic cooperation to address the increasingly complex challenges of the digital age.

In the narrative logic of totalitarian politics, “control” and “infiltration” are always two sides of the same core coin. Recent disclosures by overseas media regarding Beijing’s plan to allow two specific categories of people—those “going out” (abroad) and those “brought in” (from abroad)—to access the international internet through officially compliant channels under strict surveillance precisely provide the latest footnote to this logic: governing the country through “violence” + “lies.”

This is by no means a signal that China’s internet is moving toward genuine openness, but rather a meticulously calculated “digital expedition.” What it reflects underneath remains the fundamental statecraft upon which this regime was founded and from which it has never wavered—”the gun (the knife) + the pen,” which is the modern iteration of “violence” plus “lies.”

The “Advancing with the Times” of Core Logic: Digital Proselytizing in Old Bottles

From a historical perspective, this substantial expansion of the scope of establishment personnel “scaling the firewall with a license” shares the exact same consistent logic as the practice of exporting red communist theory to Southeast Asia and the globe sixty years ago to instigate the violent overthrow of other nations’ regimes.

Sixty years ago, what was exported were crude slogans of class struggle; today, wrapped inside the highly efficient, rapid, and inflammatory internet narrative is a meticulously packaged discourse of “Grand External Propaganda.” While building higher and tighter “Great Firewalls” at home and severely cracking down on ordinary citizens’ use of VPNs to “scale the wall,” the authorities are organizing a regular internet army that is “politically absolutely reliable.” This strategy of “only allowing me to export, but not allowing you to flow in” aims to create a complete information vacuum domestically and achieve precise public opinion pollution abroad.

In essence, this is a covert ideological export cloaked in the jacket of internet technology. It is more cost-effective, possesses greater explosive power, and its destructiveness is far more concealed.

The Interlocking “Grand Chessboard” and the Creators of Chaos

This increasingly mature tactics of “cyber public opinion warfare” and “hybrid warfare” have already yielded initial results in recent international situations. From the internet water armies pushing and pulling behind the far-right and far-left ideological trends in Europe, to the cognitive warfare of disinformation during the U.S. presidential elections, to the polarization of public opinion in East Asian neighboring countries, its ultimate goal is crystal clear: to desire chaos everywhere under heaven, and to reap geopolitical benefits amidst that chaos.

On this thrilling grand chessboard, cyber public opinion warfare never exists in isolation; instead, it is tightly interwoven with its overall strategy:

Weaponization of Supply Chains: From export controls on scarce raw materials such as rare earths, to choking the supply chains of critical medicines.

Gray Zone Conflicts: From the frequent “accidental” disruptions of critical undersea fiber-optic cables, to cyber-military attacks launched by state-backed hackers targeting Western infrastructure.

The Ultimate Grand Narrative: All these seemingly isolated acts of “kindling fires” ultimately point toward the so-called “Community with a Shared Future for Mankind”—an authoritarian utopia where the destiny, data, speech, and wealth of all humanity are gripped tightly in the hands of totalitarianism.

The Way to Break the Predicament: Shattering Asymmetry and Rebuilding the Defenses of the Free World

Facing this behemoth that possesses both violence and digital lies, if the international community and free forces continue to adopt traditional, passive “principles of reciprocity,” they are bound to suffer defeat after defeat in an asymmetric gambit. To crack this combination of “digital totalitarian export,” one must strike directly at its painful vulnerabilities:

1. Shatter the Information Black Box: Target and Precisely “Push Down the Wall”

Since what Beijing fears most is its domestic citizens learning the truth, the most powerful countermeasure for the free world is not to passively defend against its “external propaganda,” but to actively deliver true, unfiltered information into China. Increase research and financial investment in anti-censorship technologies (anti-censorship firewall-scaling tools, satellite internet, etc.), so that ordinary Chinese citizens can freely connect with the world, fundamentally dismantling the domestic brainwashing base.

2. Establish Legal and Technological Firewalls: Severely Punish the “Licensed Internet Army”

International social platforms and Western governments must clearly recognize that these accounts, which “expedite upon imperial decree” after undergoing layers of political screening and registration by provincial and national Cyberspace Administrations (CAC), are by no means ordinary netizens. They are “public opinion soldiers” driven by the state apparatus. Strict identity traceability mechanisms must be established, and accounts originating from specific official channels that systematically manipulate public opinion should be resolutely banned and sanctioned. Concurrently, at the legal level, such behaviors should be defined as covert interference by “foreign agents.”

3. Strengthen Infrastructure Resilience and Technological Countermeasures

In response to hybrid threats such as hacker attacks, the severing of undersea cables, and supply chain coercion at both physical and digital levels, the free alliance must accelerate the implementation of supply chain restructuring and de-risking. Establish multi-track backup networks (such as low-Earth orbit satellite communication networks) to enhance the immunity of critical infrastructure, and retain the deterrence capability to implement “reciprocal counter-attacks” when subjected to state-level cyberattacks.

History has long proven that a regime maintained by violence must rely on lies to prolong its life. The attempt to seize the so-called “commanding heights of propaganda” by dispatching a large number of Party members and cadres to rush into the international internet precisely exposes its extreme dread of free information and the truth entering its borders. Putting on an extra layer of an internet jacket cannot change its anti-human and anti-freedom nature. The free world can only completely shatter the myth of authoritarian expansion in this offensive and defensive war of civilization in the digital age by abandoning illusions and taking the offensive as defense.

The Chinese Communist Party (CCP), which is already a bird startled by the mere twang of a bow (constantly on edge), vainly attempts to use the “net” of the internet to protect its regime from collapse, which is merely a worsening of its paranoia. The tide of history is vast, mighty, and unstoppable.

Do you not see Starlink and the United States’ wall-breaking initiatives advancing steadily to encircle and suppress? The struggling, barely-surviving CCP can only gaze at the “network” and sigh in vain, uttering futile laments.

Editor: Geoffrey Jin Proofreader: Xiong Bian Translator: Shen Meihua

作者：牛腾宇妈妈

前言 / 创作手记

这些年，我一次次来到四会，只为离儿子近一点，再近一点。每次去探视前，我都会住在龙江边的龙凤大酒店。推开十楼的窗户，下面就是那条静静流淌的龙江。白天，它承载着我的脚步；夜晚，它映照着我全部的思念与眼泪。

儿子被关在离酒店只有几公里的四会监狱里。隔着高墙，我见不到他，只能借着这条江，寄托一个母亲最卑微又最深沉的爱。我沿着江边走，把带给他的礼物，以及那些说不出口的话，一遍遍托付给江水；我站在阳台上，看着江面被酒店灯光碎成闪烁的光链，仿佛看见了我们被拆散的日子，也看见了未来一家团圆的微光。

《龙江边的守望》和《龙江夜·母亲的守》就是我在那些不眠之夜里写下的心声。文字很朴素，却是我最真实的痛与守候。我没有华丽的辞藻，只有作为一个母亲日复一日的思念、等待和坚持。

江水知道我所有的眼泪，它也知道我从未放弃的信念——总有一天，我要接儿子回家，我们母子一起站在龙江边，看同样的灯光倒映在水里，那时候，再也没有高墙，再也没有分离。

写这些文字的时候，我常常泪流满面。写完后，我把它们留在酒店的窗前、留在江风里，也留在心里。我希望有一天，腾宇能读到它们，知道妈妈从来不曾离开过他，哪怕黑夜再长，哪怕路途再远，妈妈都在这里守着、等着。

感谢龙江，它成了我与儿子之间最温柔也最坚韧的桥梁。愿每一个读到这些文字的人，都能感受到一个母亲最深沉的爱。

【第一辑】 龙江边的守望

我住在四会的龙凤大酒店，
窗外就是那条静静的龙江。
夜里灯光落进水里，
碎成一条颤抖的光链，
像我这些年碎掉的心。

儿子，你被关在四会监狱，
离我只有几公里。
每天早上我推开窗，
看着江水向你那边流，
我在心里一遍遍叫你的名字——腾宇。

酒店的房间很安静，
安静得能听见我自己的心跳。
偶尔沿着龙江走， 走过那座桥，
走到能望见监狱高墙的地方。

风吹过江面，
带着湿凉的水汽，
我把带来的衣服、吃的、想对你说的话，
都交给它，
希望它能替我送进去一点点。

晚上我睡不着，
就站在阳台上看着江里的倒影。
那些酒店的灯光、高楼的影子，
在水里晃啊晃，
像我们被拆散的日子。

我常常想，
如果你能站在我身边，
我们母子俩一起看这条江，
该有多好。

腾宇啊，
妈妈在这里等着你。
龙江每天都流，
它知道我所有的眼泪，
也知道我所有的坚持。
我住在这家酒店，
把日子过成一条长长的河，
只为有一天，
能接你回家。

江水啊，
请你替我抱抱我的孩子，
告诉他，
妈妈的爱从来没离开过，
哪怕高墙再厚，
哪怕黑夜再长。

【第二辑】 江水知我心：绥江边的母亲守望

我住在四会的龙凤大酒店，已经好几个日夜。推开十层的房间窗户，夜风带着湿润的水汽扑面而来，下面就是那条静静流淌的龙江。灯光从酒店、从两岸的楼群倾泻而下，在江面上碎成一片闪烁的金银碎屑，像无数细小的心愿在水里颤抖，又被缓缓流动的江水带向远方。

儿子，你就在离我不远的四会监狱里。我每天站在这里，望着江水向你所在的方向流去，心里便生出一种近在咫尺却又遥不可及的痛。白天，我沿着龙江的岸边走，风吹起我的头发，我把为你准备的礼物，还有那些压在心底的话，一遍遍默念给江水听。希望它能穿过高墙，替我抱一抱你，替我告诉你，妈妈就在这里。

夜晚的龙江最温柔，也最残忍。酒店的霓虹、高楼的灯光、桥上的车灯，全都倒映在水里，被波纹轻轻揉碎、拉长、晃动。那些光影像我们被拆散的日子，时而清晰，时而模糊。我常常久久地凝视着它们，仿佛看见了你小时候的笑脸，看见了我们曾经在一起的平凡时光。

江水不说话，它只是默默地流，把所有的思念、所有的眼泪、所有的等待，都卷进它的怀里，带向未知的下游。

这里的一切都沾染着水汽，连梦里都是潮湿的。深夜我睡不着，便披衣站在阳台上，任由龙江的夜风拂过脸庞。远处监狱的方向偶尔亮起一点冷光，我的心就跟着揪紧。儿子啊，妈妈知道你受苦了，可妈妈只能用这种方式陪着你——守在这条江边，守在这家酒店的窗前，把自己活成一条不肯断流的河。

龙江，你见证了我所有的眼泪，也请你见证我的坚持。总有一天，我会接你回家，我们母子一起站在这江边，看同样的灯光倒影在水里，那时候，它们一定不再是破碎的，而是完整的、温暖的，像从未被分开过一样。

江水缓缓，夜色深深。 我在这里，等你。

编辑：黄吉洲   校对：毛一炜 翻译：沈美花

Diary of a Trip to Guangdong in May 2026: Night Thoughts by the Longjiang River

Author: Niu Tengyu’s Mother

Preface / Creative Notes

Over these years, I have come to Sihui time and time again, solely to be closer to my son—just a little bit closer. Before every visitation, I stay at the Longfeng Grand Hotel by the Longjiang River. Pushing open the window on the tenth floor, the quietly flowing Longjiang River lies just below. By day, it carries my footsteps; by night, it reflects the entirety of my longing and my tears.

My son is imprisoned in Sihui Prison, only a few kilometers away from the hotel. Separated by high walls, I cannot see him. I can only use this river to carry a mother’s most humble yet profound love. I walk along the riverbank, repeatedly entrusting the river with the gifts I brought for him and the words I cannot bring myself to speak aloud. Standing on the balcony, watching the river surface shattered into a shimmering chain of light by the hotel lamps, I seem to see our fractured days, but also the faint glimmer of our future family reunion.

“The Vigil by the Longjiang River” and “Longjiang Night: A Mother’s Vigil” are the inner voices I wrote down during those sleepless nights. The words are very simple, but they represent my most genuine pain and watchfulness. I have no gorgeous rhetoric, only a mother’s day-after-day longing, waiting, and perseverance. The river knows all my tears, and it also knows my never-failing conviction—that one day, I will bring my son home. Together, as mother and son, we will stand by the Longjiang River and watch the same lights reflected in the water. At that time, there will be no more high walls, and no more separation.

When writing these words, tears often streamed down my face. After finishing them, I left them by the hotel window, in the river breeze, and in my heart. I hope that one day, Tengyu can read them and know that his mother has never left him. No matter how long the night, no matter how far the journey, his mother is always here, guarding and waiting.

Thank you, Longjiang River, for becoming the gentlest yet most resilient bridge between my son and me.

May everyone who reads these words feel a mother’s deepest love.

Niu Tengyu’s Mother, May 2026, at Longfeng Grand Hotel, Sihui.

The Vigil by the Longjiang River

I am staying at the Longfeng Grand Hotel in Sihui,

Outside the window is that quietly flowing Longjiang River.

At night, the lights fall into the water,

Shattering into a trembling chain of light,

Just like my broken heart over these years.

Son, you are imprisoned in Sihui Prison,

Only a few kilometers away from me.

Every morning I push open the window,

Watching the river flow toward your direction,

And in my heart, I call your name over and over again—Tengyu.

The hotel room is very quiet,

So quiet that I can hear my own heartbeat.

Occasionally, I walk along the Longjiang River,

Crossing that bridge,

To the place where I can catch a glimpse of the prison’s high walls.

The wind blows across the river surface, carrying a damp, cool mist,

The clothes, food, and words I want to say to you—

I entrust them all to the wind,

Hoping it can deliver a tiny fraction of them inside to you.

At night, unable to sleep,

I stand on the balcony looking at the reflections in the river.

The lights from the hotel, the shadows of the high-rises,

Swaying and shifting in the water,

Look just like our fractured days.

I often think,

If only you could stand by my side,

And the two of us, mother and son, could look at this river together,

How wonderful that would be.

Tengyu, your mother is here waiting for you.

The Longjiang River flows every day,

It knows all my tears,

And it knows all my perseverance.

I live in this hotel,

Turning my days into a long, flowing river,

Only for the day

When I can bring you home.

O river water,

Please embrace my child for me,

Tell him,

A mother’s love has never left,

No matter how thick the high walls,

No matter how long the dark night.

The River Knows My Heart: A Mother’s Vigil by the Suijiang River

I have been staying at the Longfeng Grand Hotel in Sihui for several days and nights now. Pushing open the window of my room on the tenth floor, the night breeze hits my face, carrying damp mist. Below is the quietly flowing Longjiang River. Lights pour down from the hotel and from the clusters of buildings on both banks, shattering on the river surface into glittering fragments of gold and silver. They look like countless tiny wishes trembling in the water, slowly carried away into the distance by the moving current.

Son, you are right there in Sihui Prison, not far from me. I stand here every day, watching the river flow in the direction where you are, and my heart aches with a pain that feels so close yet so unimaginably far away. During the day, I walk along the banks of the Longjiang River. The wind lifts my hair, and I repeatedly murmur to the river water the gifts I prepared for you and the words pressed deep in my heart. I hope it can pass through the high walls, embrace you on my behalf, and tell you that your mother is right here.

The Longjiang River at night is both the gentlest and the most cruel. The neon lights of the hotel, the lights of the high-rises, and the headlights of cars on the bridge are all reflected in the water, gently crumpled, elongated, and shaken by the ripples. Those images of light look like our fractured days—sometimes clear, sometimes blurred. I often stare at them for a very long time, as if seeing your childhood smile, and seeing the ordinary times we once spent together. The river does not speak; it just flows silently, rolling all the longing, all the tears, and all the waiting into its embrace, carrying them toward the unknown downstream.

Everything here is tainted with moisture; even my dreams are damp. Deep in the night, unable to sleep, I put on a coat and stand on the balcony, letting the night breeze of the Longjiang River brush past my face. In the distance, a cold light occasionally flares up from the direction of the prison, and my heart tightens along with it. Son, your mother knows you are suffering, but this is the only way I can accompany you—by keeping vigil beside this river, standing before the window of this hotel, turning myself into a river that refuses to stop flowing.

Longjiang River, you have witnessed all my tears; please also witness my perseverance. One day, I will bring you home. Mother and son, we will stand together by this river, watching the same lights reflected in the water. At that time, they will surely no longer be shattered, but complete and warm, as if we had never been torn apart.

The river water flows slowly; the night grows deep. I am here, waiting for you.

Editor: Huang Jizhou | Proofreader: Mao Yiwei | Translator: Shen Meihua