Measuring Conviction by Wheels — A Chronicle of the “CCP VIRUS East Coast Tour”
Author: Yang Changbi Editor:LI Congling ExecutiveEditor: Luo Zhifei
Abstract: The “CCP VIRUS East Coast Tour” convoy arrived today at the TCL Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard and the Chinese Consulate General in Los Angeles, holding a large-scale protest event.
Live Report: October 7, 2025 · Los Angeles, USA
The “CCP VIRUS East Coast Tour” convoy arrived today at the Chinese Theatre on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame and at the Chinese Consulate in Los Angeles, staging a grand protest.
Renowned sculptor CHEN Weiming led the parade, driving a vehicle towing his “CCP VIRUS” sculpture.
Members of the China Democracy Party and freedom advocates held banners high and shouted slogans:
“End the CCP!”
“Hold the CCP accountable for creating and releasing the COVID-19 virus!”
“Compensate the global victims!”
“Free all political prisoners!”
Protesters shouted outside the Chinese Theatre and the Consulate: “End the CCP!” “Free Wang Bingzhang!” “Free GAO Zhisheng!” “Free China! Free Hong Kong!”
The atmosphere was intense and passionate, drawing the attention of passersby and tourists.
Mr. CHEN Weiming and Ms. JIN Xiuhong delivered speeches in front of the Chinese Theatre and the Chinese Consulate, condemning the CCP for its crimes against humanity and calling on the international community to hold it accountable for the creation and spread of COVID-19, demanding compensation for global victims.
The “CCP VIRUS East Coast Tour” lasted a full month, covering nearly 8,000 miles across twenty states and visiting dozens of government offices and landmarks.
Despite hardships, sleepless nights, and rough conditions, the team persevered with conviction — exposing CCP tyranny and defending freedom and truth through their journey.
It was more than a tour across America — it was a spiritual journey. They measured the strength of conviction with their wheels and awakened the echoes of conscience with their voices.
“Double Tenth” Spirit and Free China — Celebrating the National Day of the Republic of China
Author: Congling Li Editor: Zhijun Zhang Executive Editor: Zhifei Luo Proofread: Bian Xiong Translator: Xiaomei Peng
On October 10, 1911, the first gunfire over Wuchang shattered two thousand years of imperial despotism and ignited the flame of the Chinese nation’s pursuit of democracy and freedom. The Xinhai Revolution was far from perfect, but it marked the first time in Chinese history that a regime of tyranny was overthrown in the name of the people. It was the first political experiment aimed at building a republic.
In 1912, the Republic of China was founded. Dr. Sun Yat-sen put forward the ideals of “the world belongs to all” and “sovereignty resides in the people.” From then on, the concept that “the nation belongs to its citizens” became the starting point of modern Chinese politics. The Republic of China was not merely the name of a state; it was a symbol of political conviction — that people could choose their own government, that the constitution stands above personal power, and that freedom of speech should never be suppressed by fear. This ideal became the foundation of today’s Taiwan — the freest and most open society in Asia.
Yet this chapter of history has been completely erased in mainland China. After seizing power, the Chinese Communist Party not only destroyed the institutions and memory of the Republic of China but also used a systematic propaganda machine to obliterate “the Republic of China” from textbooks, newspapers, screens, and even collective memory. Under the banner of the so-called “New China,” the CCP concealed its rise through violence, civil war, and Soviet backing, vilifying the Republic of China as a “reactionary regime” and branding Taiwan as a “separatist province.” These lies persist to this day. In the CCP’s historical narrative, the Xinhai Revolution is cut off, Sun Yat-sen’s legacy is distorted, and the Republic of China is blackened, while post-1949 China is repackaged as a “reborn” and “sole legitimate” nation. In truth, the CCP is not the heir of the Republic of China but its usurper. The constitutional system of the Republic of China has never been interrupted; it has survived, reformed, and flourished in Taiwan — the genuine embodiment of a Free China.
The legitimacy of any government arises from the free choice and public consent of its people. The CCP has never obtained power through democratic elections. Its rule is maintained through the gun, fear, and violence. Since 1949, under the banner of “liberation,” it has crushed dissent and civil society, causing unspeakable disasters: tens of millions starved to death in the Great Leap Forward; the Cultural Revolution unleashed a storm of brutality against humanity; the gunfire of June Fourth slaughtered unarmed citizens; and even today, persecution continues against Uyghurs, Tibetans, Hongkongers, and dissidents. Such a regime has no moral legitimacy, nor any political one.The CCP often invokes “sovereignty” and “unity” as its final fig leaf. But one must ask: what right does a party without popular mandate have to represent China? What claim to “national dignity” can a regime make when it censors truth and robs its citizens of freedom? The true dignity of China lies not in territorial unification but in whether its people live with freedom and dignity.
Taiwan’s existence stands as the most powerful refutation of the CCP’s lies. There, the constitutional spirit of the Republic of China lives on and has evolved. From Chiang Ching-kuo’s lifting of martial law and ending of press restrictions, to Lee Teng-hui’s democratization, to the peaceful alternation of power under Chen Shui-bian, Ma Ying-jeou, and Tsai Ing-wen — Taiwan proves one simple truth: the Chinese people are fully capable of good governance under democracy. Taiwan has its own military, government, judiciary, currency, and passport; it holds free elections and peaceful transfers of power — all evidence that the Republic of China is a sovereign, independent state. The CCP’s threat to “unify Taiwan by force” is not only an assault on Taiwan’s freedom but a total betrayal of the spirit of the 1911 Revolution. The revolutionaries who once cried “Expel the Manchus, Restore China” would never tolerate a new despot enslaving the Chinese people anew.
For over seventy years, the CCP has deliberately conflated “the Party” with “the Nation,” equating patriotism with loyalty to the Party, and branding dissent as “treason.” But we must speak plainly: the CCP is not China, and loving one’s country does not mean loving the Communist Party. China belongs to its 1.4 billion people, not to a handful of privileged elites. True patriotism means freeing the homeland from lies and fear, enabling Chinese citizens to think and speak freely, and allowing children to learn real history instead of brainwashed propaganda. The CCP has used “national unity” to cover its corruption and “nationalism” to distract from domestic crises. Yet in an age of open information, more and more Chinese are awakening: they see Taiwan’s free press, Hong Kong’s tragedy, and the courage of Ukrainians resisting tyranny — and they begin to question the country they live in.
We call upon the people of mainland China: Awaken! Do not be deceived by false “national righteousness,” nor cowed by the specter of “Western conspiracy.” Ask yourselves: why must truth-tellers hide their names? Why does speaking one’s mind mean risking prison? Why, if our nation is so “strong,” are our people still unfree? Why must a ruling party rely on firewalls and censorship to sustain itself?
Freedom is not the privilege of the West — it is the universal right of humankind. Democracy is not chaos — it is institutionalized accountability and peaceful transition of power. The very existence of the Republic of China in Taiwan proves this path is possible. One day, we believe, the flag of the Republic of China will rise not only over Taipei but once again over the skies of the mainland. That day will come when every Chinese who yearns for truth and rejects lies chooses courage over silence.
The “Double Tenth” is more than a commemoration — it is a banner. It symbolizes the courage to overthrow tyranny and the perseverance to pursue republican ideals. It reminds us that Free China still lives on. Today, as we celebrate the National Day of the Republic of China, we do more than mark a nation’s birthday — we reaffirm a conviction: that freedom and truth will ultimately triumph over lies and fear.
The CCP can silence voices, block the Internet, and spread terror — but it cannot extinguish the people’s longing for liberty. For that flame was kindled long ago, on October 10, 1911. And today, it is our mission to let that fire once again illuminate China’s night sky.
Faith Lights the Way — An Interview with Zheng Cunzhu
Interviewers: Zhao Jie, Lin Xiaolong Data Compilation: Lin Xiaolong Editor and Proofreader: Zhang Zhijun Translator: Lyu Feng
The Persistence of Faith and the Weight of Responsibility
In the turbulent course of China’s modern political transformation, there has always been a group of people who hold ideals as their lamp and faith as their compass. Some stand firm in silence; others step forward bravely—leaving marks of their era amid the torrents of history. Zheng Cunzhu is both a witness to the upheavals of 1989 and a steadfast dreamer pursuing China’s democratic transformation. From his early career in education to his participation in street protests, from entrepreneurship to political engagement as part of China’s democratic opposition, Zheng’s life has embodied both the fractures of the times and the weight of conscience.
In this in-depth interview, Mr. Zheng reflects on the memory of 1989, analyzes the perseverance and practice of democratic ideals, and speaks candidly about his deep hopes for China’s future. Wherever he may be, one belief remains unchanged: political reform is indispensable to the rejuvenation of the nation.
From the Classroom to the Streets
Zheng Cunzhu, current president of the Opposition Party magazine
Zhao Jie: Mr. Zheng, before we begin, could you briefly introduce your background to our readers? You were born in Hefei, Anhui Province, graduated from the English Department of Hefei Teachers College, and later earned a master’s degree in literature from Shanghai Normal University. In 1995, you entered the business world and founded a company. But before that, in 1989, you co-founded the Anhui Provincial University Students’ Autonomous Federation and led hundreds of students to Beijing to support the Tiananmen movement. You were even one of the student representatives who secretly negotiated with the local government. This experience is quite unique. What made you decide to take students to the streets at that time?
Zheng Cunzhu: That was 1989. The entire 1980s was a decade of intellectual vitality and rising calls for reform. Economic reform had loosened the old system, but political reform lagged behind. As Deng Xiaoping once said, “If we only reform the economy but not the political system, it’s like trying to walk on one leg—you can’t go far.” Premier Wen Jiabao later warned that without political reform to safeguard progress, economic reforms could be undone, and even a new Cultural Revolution might occur.
By the late 1980s, social contradictions were intensifying. The dual-track system—planned and market economies operating side by side—allowed officials with quota power to acquire scarce goods cheaply and resell them for huge profits. As unemployment rose and prices soared, ordinary people suffered while corruption spread.
Against this backdrop, intellectuals and students became the main advocates for political reform. The 13th Party Congress in 1988 had mentioned “political system reform,” but the power struggle between reformists and conservatives stalled the process. When Hu Yaobang—seen as a symbol of reform—was forced to step down and later died, nationwide mourning quickly turned into a collective demand for democracy.
At that time, I was teaching at Anhui Institute of Education. As a teacher, I felt the crisis in the education system—teachers were quitting en masse, educational quality was declining, and intellectuals were losing social respect. We believed that without political reform, no social or economic problem could be solved. That’s why our students and faculty took the lead in organizing the Hefei demonstrations. We later established the Anhui Provincial University Students’ Autonomous Federation and led a delegation to Beijing to support the Tiananmen students.
The Awakening After the Shock
Lin Xiaolong: At that time, college students were considered social elites, with guaranteed jobs after graduation. Did you realize the risks of joining such a movement?
Zheng Cunzhu: Honestly, no. We were raised on idealism—on stories of the May Fourth Movement and patriotic student activism. We believed the government would listen to reasoned voices. None of us imagined they would open fire.
In Hefei, our protests lasted over a month and remained entirely peaceful. No shop was looted, no window smashed. Students even helped police direct traffic. So when we heard that troops had fired on unarmed citizens in Beijing, we were devastated. June Fourth changed everything I believed about my country and its political system.
Zhao Jie: What impact did the aftermath have on you personally?
Zheng Cunzhu: I was labeled a “ringleader,” formally reprimanded, and had my salary reduced two grades. Compared to others who were imprisoned, I was lucky. But society was paralyzed by fear—many students were expelled, and graduates were blacklisted. Anhui was somewhat lenient, perhaps because Hefei is home to the University of Science and Technology of China, and local officials favored an “educational approach.” Still, that experience made me see the structural nature of China’s political problems, setting me on a path of lifelong reflection and activism.
Political Belief and the Birth of the China Democracy Party
Zhao Jie: After the crackdown, many participants faced punishment or imprisonment. Why did you continue your political engagement?
Zheng Cunzhu: Because June Fourth revealed the root of the problem—China cannot rely on economic reform alone. Political reform is the key.We felt that intellectuals have a duty to push society forward, even at personal risk. Silence is complicity.
Lin Xiaolong: You later joined the China Democracy Party (CDP). Could you describe that process?
Zheng Cunzhu: The CDP formally submitted its founding application to the Zhejiang Civil Affairs Bureau on June 25, 1998, and was immediately suppressed. But that moment rekindled the unfinished ideals of 1989.
I joined secretly in 2000. By then, I had left the public sector and was running a private business in Shanghai, which gave me some freedom and resources. Through overseas contacts, I was able to join the party. The political atmosphere was still suffocating; joining meant living with constant risk. But I felt that if educated people with stable livelihoods still chose silence, China would never change.
Zhao Jie: Were you involved in party activities afterward?
Zheng Cunzhu: Yes. In Shanghai, I connected with like-minded people—teachers, professionals, graduate students. We held private discussions, organized salons, and promoted democratic ideas. Early internet platforms like Xici Hutong and MaoYanKanRen became spaces for dialogue and organization.
Eventually, several of my friends were arrested and sentenced for distributing materials or producing CDP publications. That’s when I truly realized the price of dissent.
The Spirit of 1998
Lin Xiaolong: How do you view the 1998 founding of the CDP today?
Zheng Cunzhu: It was the spiritual continuation of 1989. Many CDP founders were former student leaders or activists from the Tiananmen era. They had faced persecution but refused to surrender. Their goal was not to overthrow the government, but to compel it to respect the constitutional rights of association and free speech—to return China to governance under its own laws.
Zhao Jie: Maintaining such beliefs under repression requires great courage. What has sustained you?
Zheng Cunzhu: I will never forget the young lives lost in Tiananmen Square. Many were younger than I was. They never got another chance to speak for China. As a survivor, I feel obliged to carry on what they began.
I also believe that education and the rule of law are China’s only path forward. Later, in the U.S., I studied law again, hoping someday to help bring legal principles and institutional experience back to China. Only when power is constrained by law can people live with dignity.
Lin Xiaolong: So, despite everything, you remain hopeful about China’s transition?
Zheng Cunzhu: Yes. Every act of reflection, every awakening, adds to the momentum. China’s problem isn’t that its people don’t understand democracy—it’s that they’ve never had the chance to practice it. I believe that as more people dare to speak and think freely, reform will eventually come.
The Revival of The Opposition Party
Zhao Jie: What do you think is the significance of The Opposition Party magazine’s revival?
Zheng Cunzhu: Its revival symbolizes the reconnection between China’s domestic and overseas democratic forces. For decades, communication between them has been severed by fear, censorship, and distance. This magazine restores that link—it continues the spirit of both overseas democracy movements and China’s intellectual awakening, reopening a window for suppressed public discourse.
Our vision is “one publication, two systems”: the digital edition will serve mainly overseas audiences, fostering free voices and international advocacy; the print edition will focus on China, exploring local realities and public concerns, helping democratic ideals take root again.Through this dual structure, The Opposition Party aims to become a “second front” for China’s democracy—preserving both intellectual fire and direction for the future.
Editor’s Note
In one’s life, there are always truths that weigh heavy and stories that sink deep. The wind sweeps across the corners of history: some names are buried in dust, some voices carried away. Yet truth endures, like a stone under an old roof—cracked, damp, but still there, year after year.
Our interviewee this issue is not a chronicler of history, nor a man who sought the spotlight of power. But he lived through the heat and pain of an era. He speaks without theatrics, without slogans—just with the quiet steadiness of one who has read, labored, and endured.
We publish this interview not to stir waves or plead for sympathy, but because every era needs quieter voices—those who do not shout, yet refuse to be silent. Zheng Cunzhu’s story is not legend, but reality. Between his silence and his speech lies the unspoken truth of many others.
Take from it what you can. The rest, time will remember for us.
From Jinan to Los Angeles: The Freedom Journey of an Ordinary Chinese Family
By Li Yinchuan Edited:Zhang Zhijun ManagingEditor: Li Congling Proofreader: Feng Reng
My name is Li Yinchuan, I’m 35 years old, and I come from Jinan, Shandong Province, China. There, I lived with my wife and our young daughter, running a small guesthouse. It seemed like an ordinary, peaceful life—until repeated political crackdowns and pandemic lockdowns pushed us into the depths of despair.
Jinan, the so-called political center of Shandong, is, for ordinary people like us, a city of oppression and indifference. The government’s inefficiency and rigid bureaucracy made everyday life a struggle. And the three years of pandemic control revealed that cruelty to the fullest extent.
During those years, our family endured hundreds of mandatory COVID tests, and we were repeatedly sealed inside our apartment by the brutal “white-clad” enforcers. My child had a high fever for seven days but was refused hospital admission; my wife suffered breast pain from a cyst that went untreated; my mother’s rheumatoid arthritis worsened because she was denied medical care for lacking a “24-hour nucleic acid test.” The government didn’t just lock our doors—it locked away our path to survival.
In December 2022, faced with guests trapped in our guesthouse for nearly a month, I finally tore down the ropes sealing our building. When I confronted the police, they threatened to send me to a “Fangcang quarantine camp”—a place where, as locals said, human heads were traded for money. That moment I realized: the CCP’s lockdowns were never about protecting people, but about profit and control.
A few days after protesting the violent lockdown, I was detained by the police under the pretext of having a “fake health certificate.” My phone was searched in every possible way, and I was subjected to a three-hour DNA test. In the detention center, twenty of us were crammed into a fifteen-square-meter cell. We were hungry, sleepless, and terrified, and I witnessed guards beating prisoners. Those two days felt like a lifetime, and I finally understood that in China, law is not justice—it is a weapon of power.
After my release, fear became constant. I knew that because I had once shared the truth—even if only about history or the pandemic—I could be arrested again at any time. The fear and suffocation extinguished my last hope for China.
What I want to say is this: the CCP’s rule has destroyed the dignity of the Chinese people. It treats living human beings as disposable numbers and forces countless ordinary families like mine to live in fear—afraid to speak the truth, afraid to question injustice.
To seek a path of faith and freedom, my family embarked on the hardest journey of our lives. We crossed more than ten countries, suffering robbery, hunger, and fear. Nearly every day was a battle between despair and survival.
While crossing the Darién rainforest, we lost our shoes in the mud. Our feet were torn and bleeding from rocks and thorns. I was exhausted and ready to give up. But the Lord did not abandon me. He lifted me up again, allowing me to see hope amid despair.
Our time in Mexico was filled with uncertainty and fear—we never knew whether we could continue the next day. Yet the Lord’s mercy was always with us.
In 2023, after all the hardship, we finally arrived in the United States. The moment we landed in Los Angeles, sunlight touched my face, and for the first time, I truly understood what safety means. The smiles of strangers, acts of mutual help, and the feeling of equality made me feel the warmth of a normal, humane society.
Here in America, I found hope. Democracy, freedom, and equality are not abstract slogans—they are the air people breathe every day.
By the Lord’s mercy, I was baptized into Christ and became a child of God. Before that, I had gone through a long struggle and confusion. The hardships of starting anew in America made me cry out countless times:
“Lord, why did You lead me on this path?”
But through reading the Bible, praying, and the fellowship of brothers and sisters, I gradually understood: every hardship was part of His guidance. The Lord never abandoned me—He was teaching me trust through trials.
Now, I am willing to use my life as a testimony:
Fish live because of water; people live because of faith.
I have received the Lord’s salvation, and with it, true peace.
Today, I choose to speak out—not only for myself and my family, but to tell the world that China’s tragedy is real, and the CCP’s tyranny is something every ordinary person could face.
I hope that one day, my daughter will grow up under the sunlight of freedom—never again needing to trade silence for survival.
This is my voice, and the cry of countless Chinese families.
Edited: Han Lihua ManagingEditor: Luo Zhifei Proofreader: Xiong Bian
On June 2, 2025, the June Fourth Memorial Museum in Los Angeles officially opened. With mixed emotions, I walked inside—curiosity about that long-suppressed history mingled with an indescribable heaviness and sorrow.
The lighting inside the museum was deliberately dim. The dazzling sunlight outside contrasted sharply with the faint light within, making it hard for me to adjust. In those few seconds of darkness, I felt as if I had been drawn into that time and space hidden for over thirty years. When my eyes gradually adapted, I walked slowly along the left-hand corridor. Photos lined the walls—students in the square, citizens holding banners, makeshift broadcasting stands—all silently speaking through frozen moments. Reading the captions beside them, my steps unconsciously slowed, my mood heavy and constrained.
When I saw those young students sitting in Tiananmen Square—fighting for democracy and freedom, opposing corruption, and striving for a better future for their country—I was deeply moved. What kind of courage was that? In that era, they could have chosen quiet and stable lives, yet for the sake of their nation’s future and the well-being of its people, they resolutely chose to stand up and face danger head-on.
I stood in the exhibition hall for a long time, feeling a stone pressing upon my chest. Those images and words not only revealed the passion and sacrifice of more than three decades ago, but also stirred me to ask within: What does this history have to do with us today?
As I stepped out of the exhibition hall, the question echoed again: Why must we commemorate June Fourth? The answer, somehow, was already clear.
Remember the Truth — So History Will Not Disappear
The 1989 student movement was a spontaneous uprising of students and citizens. Their calls for anti-corruption, democracy, and fairness remain timeless demands in any nation today. Yet the movement ended in a brutal military crackdown, leaving countless dead and wounded and a wound that has never healed. Because information about the event has long been tightly censored, even now many young people know nothing of what happened.
But history does not vanish through suppression. To commemorate June Fourth is to resist forgetting—to preserve truth in our hearts. When a nation loses its collective memory, it loses its direction for the future.
Mourn the Fallen — Uphold the Bottom Line of Humanity
Many young lives were frozen at the age of twenty, a time as bright as spring flowers. They never saw the future, but through their sacrifice, they awakened people’s consciousness of freedom and dignity. To commemorate June Fourth is the most basic gesture of respect toward them.
A society that fails to honor those who suffer for justice will see its moral foundation gradually corroded. Such remembrance is not only mourning—it is a reminder that freedom is never taken for granted; it was bought with blood and priceless lives.
Reflect on Institutional Failures — Prevent History from Repeating
The tragedy of June Fourth did not occur by accident. It was the result of long-accumulated social contradictions and the absence of institutional channels for dialogue and expression. When open discussion is forbidden and legitimate appeals are silenced, conflicts inevitably explode violently at some point.
To commemorate June Fourth is to remind both the authorities and ourselves that social reform requires institutional safeguards, and governance demands fairness and transparency. Only thus can future tragedies be prevented.
Inspire the Next Generation — Advance Social Progress
Commemoration does not mean dwelling forever in pain; it urges us to think about what kind of society we desire and how we should treat our country and our people.
June Fourth was an attempt by a generation of students to seek a better future for China, and a cry from ordinary citizens for justice and fairness. Today, we may not be able to change reality overnight, but through reflection and action, we can help society move step by step toward greater freedom and equity. Remembering June Fourth is therefore the inescapable responsibility of every successor.
Conclusion
Thirty-six years have passed, yet June Fourth remains worthy of remembrance. To commemorate it is to defend historical truth, to honor the fallen, to examine systemic flaws, and to inspire the next generation to continue the pursuit of freedom and dignity. That is the truest form of courage—and responsibility.
I Am Not a Resident of the People’s Republic of China — I Am a Survivor of the Republic of China
Abstract:
This article is author Zhao Jie’s personal account of attending the Double Tenth National Day celebration in Los Angeles. He expresses his deep identification with the Republic of China (ROC), viewing it as East Asia’s first democratic nation, and condemns the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) for usurping the country. Through interactions with Taiwanese compatriots, he emphasizes that mainland exiles and Taiwanese people share the same ideals and vows to strive for the return of the Republic of China to the mainland.
Author: Zhao Jie
Editor: Han Li
A Voice Beneath the Blue Sky and White Sun
On the morning of October 4, 2025, I arrived at Barnes Park in Monterey Park, Los Angeles, to attend the 114th Double Tenth National Day flag-raising ceremony of the Republic of China, organized by the Taiwanese Association of California. When the flag of blue sky, white sun, and a field of red rose in the wind, a surge of indescribable emotion filled my heart — a mix of excitement, nostalgia, and sorrow.
Ever since I first risked my safety to break through the Great Firewall in China and truly learned about modern Chinese history, I have felt deep sorrow for the Republic of China’s turbulent fate. From that moment, I have firmly regarded myself as a member of the Republic of China.
Today, standing overseas for the first time to celebrate its birthday, I can say with even greater conviction: I am not a resident of the People’s Republic of China — I am a survivor, a remnant, of the Republic of China.
Author: ZHONG Ran Editor: ZHONG Ran ExecutiveEditor: LUO Zhifei Proofreader: LI Jie Translator: LIU Fang
In 1992, the Henan Provincial Health Department and the Red Cross Blood Center of Henan reached an agreement to double the province’s blood collection quota in order to exceed state targets. Under the promotion of LI Changchun, then Party Secretary of Henan, and LIU Quanxi, Director of the Health Department, selling blood became a craze. The government even popularized the slogan “Sell plasma to get rich,” while the Suixian TV station broadcast advertisements declaring that “Not selling blood is unpatriotic.” Vast numbers of rural residents joined the practice.。
In 1996, Professor GAO Yaojie encountered her first AIDS patient in Henan’s provincial capital and traced the infection back to contaminated blood supplies. She began investigating the epidemic and financed her own AIDS-prevention campaigns. Her findings were shocking: over 1.4 million people in Henan had participated in the “plasma economy,” and with an average infection rate of 20,000 per county, at least 1.02 million people were estimated to have contracted HIV/AIDS.
In Xizhaoqiao Village, Shangshui County, a husband and wife were both infected through plasma donation. The wife died of AIDS in the summer of 1997, becoming the village’s first recorded victim of the epidemic.
AIDS orphan Gao Chuang with his foster mother (left) and Dr. Gao Yaojie (right)
In 2004, Gao was named one of China Central Television’s “Ten People Who Touched China” for 2003, alongside figures such as firefighter Liang Yurun, Dr. Zhong Nanshan, and astronaut Yang Liwei.
By 2001, villagers in Wenlou told visiting reporters that they wished to file lawsuits but did not know whom to name as defendants.
In Ningling County, over 200 women contracted HIV during childbirth due to contaminated transfusions. Rather than pursuing accountability, local authorities shielded those responsible and suppressed the victims’ petitions; two petitioners were imprisoned, and nearly ten others detained.
Millions across Henan were devastated by AIDS, yet not a single official was held accountable. Dr. Gao courageously exposed the truth, while local governments sought to conceal their negligence. They expelled her under the pretext of “maintaining social stability” or “protecting state secrets.” Her daughter, GUO Yanguang, suffered persecution and lost her job due to Gao’s activism, deeply straining their relationship.
Only after GAO received several international humanitarian awards did Chinese authorities allow her to travel abroad. On March 14, 2007, she was honored in Washington, D.C. with the “Global Women’s Leadership Award.” That same afternoon, Hillary Clinton met her privately at her office.
In October 2016, Gao Yaojie was in her apartment in Manhattan, New York.
In 2010, Columbia University appointed her as a visiting scholar. Living in a modest Manhattan apartment under a caregiver’s watch, she continued writing about AIDS, publishing seven books and a collection of poems in just a few years. “I must tell the truth to the world,” she wrote in her memoir.
Dr. GAO Yaojie passed away on December 10, 2023, at the age of 95. Her funeral was held on December 18 at Ferncliff Cemetery in Upstate New York.
Author: HE Yu Editor: ZHONG Ran · Executive Editor: LUO Zhifei · Proofreader: LI Jie · Translator: PENG Xiaomei
Those are the photos taken inside elevators during the pandemic.
In each confined elevators, the same images kept appearing: faces of “grid officers” staring from laminated posters. Some had their eyes gouged out. Others had their mouths scratched off, their faces blackened by spray paint or cigarette burns. I took dozens of such photos across cities and it happened almost in every elevator I went.
During the strictest lockdown, I was locked inside my apartment. The gate was welded shut, fences wrapped the compound like a cage. No couriers, no groceries, no escape. Lines for testing stretched endlessly; even swallowing felt like breaking a rule. My phone became my only link to the world, and the elevator—my only public space.
Inside that elevator, I met the same red-background ID photo again and again: a person in a blue vest, their name and phone number printed beneath the title Grid Officer. The poster looked neat, almost bureaucratically kind—“Serving the People,” it claimed.
But days later, the images began to “warp”.
One face was slashed from forehead to chin, as if by a knife. Another was charred, its mouth erased by flame. Some were splattered with ink, some plastered with yellow talismans. A few were smeared entirely black, except for the white of the eyes glowing through.
This was not vandalism. It was revolt. A silent, desperate curse against the faceless machine of control.
I know this isn’t bored people messing things up. This is a hysterical act of resistance—the only thing ordinary citizens dare do against the government. It is China’s ancient “yansheng” practice—an apotropaic curse—a form of defiance born of extreme repression.
It is not a revolt against the individual “Dang Xingjun,” but against the system she represents—
She’s just the face chosen to be pasted inside the elevator. Behind it are lockdown orders, 24-hour surveillance, the slogan “If you have difficulties, call your grid chief,” and the cold reply “You don’t deserve to know the policy.” It’s her not answering the phone when your door is welded shut; it’s no one caring when you test positive—yet she’s the one pressing you to sign that paper saying you “voluntarily” agree to quarantine.
They said: “Grid officer serve the community.”
But during the lockdowns, they became extensions of the state—miniature governors of each building. They decided who could leave, who could eat, whose door stayed welded shut.
There were no appeals, no journalists, no law. Those wrongly locked in or starved into madness had no recourse but silence.
So people began to go after that face on the elevator wall—not because they’d gone mad, but because they finally understood: no one will speak for you, and no one will stand up for you. The only thing you can do is destroy the face that represents power.
In a normal country, this would be the last act of desperation. In China, it was the only possible act of resistance.
After the pandemic, I looked again at those photos—and felt a deep chill.
It’s not that Chinese people never resist; it’s that resistance is never allowed to exist. It’s not that anger is absent; it’s that anger has been forced underground, into gestures as small as scratching out a face. A country where cursing aloud is dangerous, and where people can only rebel with a key and a poster—that is not civilization, but totalitarianism in its purest form.
“Grid governance” has turned China into a giant, invisible prison. From the reeducation camps of Xinjiang to the “stability squads” in Tibet, to the welded doors of locked-down cities, the state has placed every citizen into a lattice of control—big grids, small grids, every door under a keyholder’s command.
The grid manager is the smallest cog in that machine, the micro-level warden of the super-prison.
No visible bars, no walls—but everyone knows they are watched, logged, and tagged.
These photos are not tragic because they are violent. They are tragic because they are true.They are not journalism. They are evidence—evidence of what people feel when every word is censored and every scream must be silent.
Ordinary people are not fools. They understand everything. They simply have no space left to speak. So they resist in the smallest space possible—an elevator, a poster, a face.
We are not wood. We are human beings. We want to live with dignity. But under this system, even dignity is a privilege beyond reach.
There was a time, not long ago, when countless people across China silently cursed the face that enforced their silence.
They were not mad. They were simply human beings trying, somehow, to breathe.
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, peace be with you!
In 2025, a new wave of religious persecution has been rising across China. In May this year, Pastor CHEN Huiqiang from Guangfeng District, Xi’an City, was detained and placed under criminal custody. Once again, the authorities have launched a province-wide campaign to “rectify religious venues.” In June, the local government declared the Zion Church chapel an “illegal gathering site” and forcibly demolished it. Such persecution has persisted for 15 years. Meanwhile, many other churches across the country are facing similar or even more severe suppression.
Zion Church is a house church (unregistered) that upholds the truth of the Bible. It was established in 2007 by the founding elders’ council in Beijing and has since become one of the largest and most influential house churches in China, with about 1,500 congregants. Since the revision of the Regulations on Religious Affairs in 2018, the church has been subject to continuous harassment and persecution. The venues it rented for worship were forcibly cleared. On September 9, 2018, the Beijing Civil Affairs Bureau officially designated Zion Church as an “illegal organization.” Since the fall of 2018, nearly one hundred house churches nationwide have been shut down, and many pastors and elders have been detained, interrogated, or criminally charged.
According to on-site reports, the church’s local premises recently suffered a severe police raid. On October 9, authorities conducted an early-morning coordinated raid on Zion Church locations nationwide. Police simultaneously targeted related sites in more than 40 cities, detaining and interrogating over one hundred pastors, preachers, elders, and deacons. In some regions, believers were forcibly sent back to their registered hometowns. As of now, it is reported that 150 people have been arrested, including 14 pastors and preachers, and 11 believers have been placed under administrative detention.
Since October 9, 2025, about 30 pastors and co-workers of Zion Church across the country have been arrested or have gone missing. In the afternoon, the residence of Pastor Zhao, the church’s overall leader, was raided by the National Security Division of the Beijing Public Security Bureau. His books, computers, and phones were confiscated, and both he and his co-workers remain missing.
At present, Zion Church’s main sanctuary in Beijing, along with branch meeting points in Shanghai, Chengdu, Guangzhou, Changsha, Kunming, Chongqing, and Shenzhen, have been sealed off. On the evening of October 10, the police again entered the church office, sealing the offering boxes and financial records. According to reliable sources, the authorities intend to launch a criminal investigation against Zion Church on charges of “illegal fundraising” and “disturbing public order.”
Further reports indicate that the church’s branches in Fujian and Zhejiang provinces have been subjected to large-scale searches, and roads leading to Shanghai have been blocked. On the morning of October 10, Elder Wang from Zion Church in Hangzhou, Zhejiang, was arrested at his home. That same afternoon, Brother Yang, a co-worker of the church in Fuzhou, was taken away.
Witnesses described that police, under the pretext of epidemic prevention, entered the gathering sites, sealed the pulpits, communion tables, projectors, and computers, and arrested several believers. One sister tried to record the scene, but her phone was confiscated.
The co-workers of Zion Church urgently call upon all churches worldwide to pray for those under persecution—especially for Pastor Zhao, Pastor CHEN Huiqiang, Elder Wang, Brother Yang, and other detained or missing co-workers. May the Lord grant them peace, wisdom, and steadfast faith, so that the church may bear witness to the truth even amid suffering, without losing heart or courage.
“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”
(2 Corinthians 4:17)
“If one member suffers, all suffer together.”
(1 Corinthians 12:26)
May the Lord Himself strengthen His church, so that we may stand firm in the day of trial and remain faithful to the Gospel mission entrusted to us.
Zion Church Pastoral, Elder, and Administrative Committees
October 11, 2025
Editor: HAN Li ExecutiveEditor: LUO Zhifei Translator LIU Fang
Behind every dictator stands a group — a will bound by constraints, a concentrated and well-directed force. On the opposing side, however, people are drawn from every circle and class in a disorganized manner. Among those dissatisfied with the regime, there are outstanding patriots provoked by the parvenus in power — upstarts who, shortly after seizing their positions, have managed to occupy the most comfortable and profitable posts. Thus, although the opposition is large in number — composed of both the noblest and the basest elements — those dissatisfied with the current political order fail to unite around a common ideal. They complain in vain, possessing potential energy that never turns into kinetic force. It is a mob against an army — a disorganized, resentful rabble against an organized terror, and thus they make no progress. They have never united effectively against the dictator, allowing him to crush them one by one.— Stefan Zweig, “The Right to Heresy”
I am an ordinary Chinese citizen. Like most Chinese people, I was taught from childhood to “love the motherland and support the Communist Party.” However, as I grew up and experienced life, I gradually realized the vast gap between the reality of society and the propaganda of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). It is precisely this disparity that caused me to lose trust in the CCP.
I. The Absence of Free Speech
Since China launched the “Clean Internet Campaign,” censorship of online speech has escalated. By September this year, multiple well-known streamers and commentators had suddenly disappeared from major platforms. Influencers such as Lan Zhanfei and Zhang Xuefeng were banned, and on September 30, the popular blogger Hu Chenfeng saw all his social media accounts permanently deleted — marking his complete erasure from China’s digital space.
In one of Hu Chenfeng’s videos, he met an elderly man on the street who revealed that he survived on a government pension of merely 107 RMB per month. The video quickly went viral but was soon deleted after trending. This was the first of five bans Hu suffered — two temporary and three permanent.
Hu came under particular scrutiny in April 2024, when a viewer asked during his livestream, “Is Xi Jinping a dictator?” Terrified, Hu angrily rebuked the questioner: “This violates streaming rules!” “This person must be crazy!” “I hung up immediately!” Despite his defensive reaction, Hu’s account was soon shut down. Even for a relatively bold Chinese citizen, the mere mention of “dictatorship” provoked sheer terror. This fear of red tyranny is deeply engraved into the Chinese psyche. Ironically, despite his caution, Hu Chenfeng was eventually swept away by the same storm of red terror.
II. The Suppression of Faith and Human Rights
China officially recognizes five religions: Buddhism, Taoism, Islam, Catholicism, and Protestantism. Each has a state-controlled association supervised by the State Administration for Religious Affairs and the United Front Work Department of the CCP, which regulate all religious activities, including those involving foreigners.
Since 1950, the Chinese government has severed ties between the Catholic Church in China and the Vatican, replacing it with the state-run Patriotic Catholic Association. Any worship not under its jurisdiction is deemed “illegal” and suppressed; such churches are known as “underground churches.” Similarly, the Three-Self Patriotic Movement was established to “independently manage” Protestant churches under the principles of self-governance, self-support, and self-propagation. Yet many Christians refuse to accept state control and instead gather privately in unregistered “house churches.” Members of these groups are routinely harassed, detained, or imprisoned — especially those labeled as belonging to “evil cults,” such as Falun Gong.
Under its atheistic ideology, the CCP often portrays independent religious groups as “foreign infiltration networks.” It arrests priests, shuts down religious publications, and forces believers to join state-controlled organizations. In 2004, Cai Zhuohua was secretly arrested for leading six house churches and publishing religious magazines — an event the Ministry of Public Security labeled as “the largest foreign religious infiltration case since 1949.”
In terms of human rights, numerous media outlets and NGOs have accused the Chinese government of detaining millions of Uyghur Muslims — along with some Christians and foreign nationals, especially Kazakh citizens — in so-called “re-education camps.” Inside these camps, detainees endure abuse, indoctrination, forced labor, and sometimes death. Reports describe forced sterilization, child–parent separation, and cultural erasure, with many international scholars and officials calling it “genocide.” The United Nations Human Rights Office’s Xinjiang Report found that China’s actions may constitute crimes against humanity. UN Secretary-General António Guterres has urged China to immediately release all detained Uyghurs.
A normal society should tolerate diverse beliefs and voices instead of suppressing them through coercion. Freedom of religion is a basic human right — one that has been entirely extinguished in China.
III. Power Without Oversight
An anti-corruption campaign without an independent press or checks on power is inevitably selective. The logic is simple: as economics tells us, individuals act out of self-interest — especially businessmen and politicians. A ruler’s anti-corruption efforts target only those who threaten his own interests or have fallen out of favor, never himself or his allies.
Xi Jinping’s anti-corruption drive is designed not to cleanse the system, but to safeguard the red dynasty’s continuity. Hence its pattern of selectivity:
Any grassroots or civil anti-corruption effort that threatens the regime is strictly forbidden.
The “princelings” — children of high-ranking Communist leaders — remain untouchable. Though their power and corruption are greater, they are immune, with the exception of Bo Xilai, who was purged not for corruption but for challenging the power structure itself.
Unchecked power inevitably breeds corruption. The CCP has ruled for decades without genuine accountability. Many of its policies serve to preserve the regime, not the people. Ordinary citizens bear the cost but have no voice.
I have come to understand that the Chinese Communist Party is not China. Loving one’s country does not mean supporting the Party. True patriotism is wanting the people to live with dignity and freedom — in an open and just society. The CCP has deprived the Chinese people of these basic rights. Therefore, to question and challenge it is not betrayal, but an act of conscience born from love for one’s nation.
I have lost faith in the Chinese Communist Party. I believe a healthy society must allow diverse voices, institutional oversight, and freedom of choice. The right to speak, to believe, and to live with dignity are not privileges — they are inalienable rights of every human being.
