——专访毛庆祥

Igniting the Flame of Freedom Under the Iron Curtain

— An Exclusive Interview with Mao Qingxiang

撰稿：《在野党》编辑部 陆乾坤 编辑：冯仍 责任编辑：鲁慧文 翻译：鲁慧文

引言：在一个不能自由出版的国家，办一份杂志，意味着什么？

毛庆祥，这位浙江籍的老人，或许是中国当代“地下出版”运动最早一批践行者之一。从四五运动开始的政治觉醒，到上世纪90年代三度入狱，他一生都在用微弱的声音挑战强权。在他创办《在野党》杂志的年代，中国尚未解除报禁、也毫无言论自由可言。然而他却执着地在街头油印杂志、组织写作小组，甚至在狱中继续写诗、考证、坚持以“寸头”争取人格尊严。

2025年，《在野党》杂志复刊。身在国内的毛庆祥，再次被公安 “请去喝茶” ，但他依然接受我们的采访，用他的方式，继续守护那点燃已久的自由火种。

问答实录：在专制之下的独立意志

记者：这次《在野党》复刊，有人猜测是您推动的。您怎么看？

毛庆祥：派出所就是要问我是不是我策划的，我说：我这跟我没关系。他们杂志这么说是对我的肯定，是我的荣耀。他们把我抬高一点，我自己没什么大的能力，我这样在国内怎么动，根本做不来的，你们都不让，在你们眼皮底下……现在就在收集我的把柄，随时就准备抓我进去。

记者：您的政治觉醒始于什么时候？

毛庆祥：四五运动的时候。那是中国人第一次走上街头反独裁、反专制。我写了一首诗悼念周恩来，没有去北京，但我在杭州街头，组织游行、写大字报、演讲，声势很大。

记者：《在野党》杂志的创办初衷是什么？“在野党” 这个名字又是怎么来的？

毛庆祥：名字是我定的，有三个关键词：监督、反对、制衡。那时我们希望中国能真正走向开放政党制度，而不是只有 “花瓶党” 。我们不是中共的帮腔者。我们要的是可以发声的平台，能让百姓知道，他们并不孤单。杂志在国内创办9期之后，我被抓进监狱，后来由聂敏之、陈树庆、王荣清等人接棒继续发刊2期，他们也被抓，自此停刊。

记者：杂志传播过程中，有没有什么让您特别感动的事情？

毛庆祥：杂志发出去以后，有一个读者，带着被子、书、行李，跑来找我，说要加入民主党，要跟我们一起干。我当时很感动。他说：“看到了自由的光亮。”，那一刻，我知道我们做的是对的。

记者：我们听说，您曾三度入狱。第三次关押在浙江临平第二监狱，有什么难忘的事吗？

毛庆祥：刚进去，被安排做军工铣床任务，我完不成，队长就要“上手段”。我每月家属探视时，就告诉我老婆。那时候美国之音、自由亚洲每月都打电话给她，她就告诉媒体我被强迫劳动，后来媒体报道了，警察找我老婆，说她“造谣”。她说你去查，我造谣我负责。最后家里座机被拆了，我和外界断了联系。

记者：您在狱中也没有放弃学习？

毛庆祥：对，我考了汉语言文学专科，还有三级烹饪证。每次炒菜可以自己吃，多好。还有一次，我拒绝剃光头，说要按监狱人权规定来理发。我每次给理发师十块菜金，让他别剃光，大队长不高兴，我用保障人权这一点来说，后来我坚持下来了。

记者：有人劝您认罪换减刑吗？

毛庆祥：我在监狱第六年时，监狱长说我200多分可以减刑，只要我认罪。我不肯。我是做了八年实刑走出来的。

2025年7月16日吕耿松（图左）刚刑满释放后首先在毛庆祥（图右）的陪同下探望邹巍母亲（图中）

记者：出狱之后，您的生活怎么样？

毛庆祥：现在住湖州，7月17日被关在公安局24小时，国保开车把我带到杭州问话。不给我办护照，出不了境，微信电话都被监控着。秋后算账是他们的一贯套路。

记者：你与刚刚出狱的呂耿松见面了吗？

毛庆祥：我与老战友见过面了，他现在还在恢复当中，毕竟与社会脱节太久，不过我相信很快就会与大家交流。

记者：您怎么看今天的《在野党》复刊？

毛庆祥：你们能复刊，是很好的事情。我现在在国内做不了，但你们能继续，我高兴。我永远不后悔创办《在野党》。只要还有人愿意发声，自由的火光就不会熄灭。

结语：在野精神，不灭的火种

毛庆祥曾说：“我不是英雄，我只是代表老百姓说话。”这句话，道尽他几十年来的坚持。他没有离开中国，却始终活在风险与监控之中。他无法高声说话，但却用行动回应历史的召唤。

《在野党》杂志的复刊，不只是纪念，更是延续“在野精神”走向未来。这种精神，代表不与权力共舞，始终站在人民一边，用微光照亮黑暗。

在今天，我们依旧没有开放报禁，依旧不能自由结党，但我们可以接过前人的火炬，继续传递真话的温度。《在野党》不会停刊，哪怕每一个字都付出代价。

因为我们相信：真正的在野，不仅是一种立场，更是一种责任。

附记：一首“四五”诗作背后的反思

1976年4月5日，在全国悼念周恩来之际反对毛泽东的 “四五运动”中，毛庆祥在当时杭州市政府附近的“民主墙”张贴了他的第一首诗作《何惧魔障再作孽》：

清明祭灵甚悲切，烈士英魂永不灭；

总理遗容尚在前，顿起风云逆流急。

光明伟业奠基人，丰功伟绩永不灭；

如今健儿承遗志，何惧魔障再作孽。

此诗后被收录于中国青年出版社《四五诗选》第60页，随着时间的推移，越来越多历史档案和不少经历人回忆录的公布，周恩来“两面人”的政治角色逐渐被揭示，这首诗也成为当年一个追寻真理的青年如何在历史迷雾中被蒙蔽的例证，毛庆祥先生每谈及此，就告诫大家了解真相的重要性。

Igniting the Flame of Freedom Under the Iron Curtain

— An Exclusive Interview with Mao Qingxiang

Written by: Editorial Team of The Opposition Party – Lu Qiankun

Edited by: Feng Reng Chief Editor: Huiwen Lu Translator: Lu Huiwen

Introduction: What does it mean to run a magazine in a country where free publishing is banned?

Mao Qingxiang, a senior from Zhejiang, is perhaps one of the earliest practitioners of China’s contemporary “underground publishing” movement. From his political awakening during the April 5th Movement to three imprisonments in the 1990s, he has spent his life using a faint but unwavering voice to challenge authoritarian power. When he founded The Opposition Party magazine, China had yet to lift its ban on press freedom, and free speech was nonexistent. Yet, he stubbornly mimeographed magazines on the streets, organized writing groups, and even in prison, continued writing poems, conducting research, and defending his dignity—insisting on keeping a buzz cut instead of a shaved head.

In 2025, The Opposition Party was revived. Still in China, Mao Qingxiang was once again summoned by the police for “tea,” but he continued to speak with us in this interview, steadfastly guarding the flame of freedom that has long been lit.

Interview: Independent Will Under Tyranny

Reporter: Some speculate that you were behind this revival of The Opposition Party. What’s your take?

Mao Qingxiang: The local police station asked if I was the one behind it. I said: it has nothing to do with me. What the magazine said is actually a recognition of me—an honor. They’re putting me on a pedestal, but I don’t have such abilities. How could I operate anything from inside the country? You’re all watching me all the time… They’re collecting evidence against me, ready to arrest me anytime.

Reporter: When did your political awakening begin?

Mao Qingxiang: During the April 5th Movement. That was the first time Chinese people took to the streets against dictatorship and authoritarianism. I wrote a poem mourning Zhou Enlai. I didn’t go to Beijing, but in Hangzhou I helped organize protests, wrote big-character posters, gave speeches—the movement was strong.

Reporter: What was the original intention behind founding The Opposition Party magazine? And how did you come up with the name?

Mao Qingxiang: I named it. Three key words: oversight, opposition, checks and balances. At the time, we hoped China could truly transition to a multi-party system, not just have “flower vase parties.” We were not mouthpieces of the CCP. What we wanted was a platform to speak out—to let the people know they’re not alone. After publishing nine issues in China, I was imprisoned. Later, Nie Minzhi, Chen Shuqing, and Wang Rongqing took over and published two more issues—they were also arrested. That’s when it stopped.

Reporter: Was there anything during the magazine’s distribution that moved you deeply?

Mao Qingxiang: After the magazine was distributed, a reader came to me with bedding, books, and luggage, saying he wanted to join the Democracy Party and fight with us. I was very moved. He said: “I’ve seen the light of freedom.” At that moment, I knew we were doing the right thing.

Reporter: We heard you were imprisoned three times. During your third sentence at Linping No. 2 Prison in Zhejiang, was there anything unforgettable?

Mao Qingxiang: When I first got in, they assigned me to do military machine tool work. I couldn’t finish the tasks, and the team leader threatened to “use methods.” During family visits, I would tell my wife everything. At the time, Voice of America and Radio Free Asia called her every month, and she would tell them I was being forced into labor. The police told her she was “spreading rumors.” She said: “Go investigate. If it’s false, I’ll take responsibility.” Eventually, our landline was dismantled, and I lost contact with the outside world.

Reporter: You didn’t give up studying in prison either?

Mao Qingxiang: Correct. I earned an associate degree in Chinese Language and Literature, and also a Level-3 cooking certificate. Every time I cooked, I got to eat my own food—what a treat. Once I refused to shave my head bald and argued that prison regulations called for humane haircuts. I paid the barber 10 yuan of my food allowance each time so he wouldn’t shave me bald. The squad leader wasn’t happy, but I used the human rights rule to argue my case. I stuck to it and prevailed.

Reporter: Did anyone try to persuade you to admit guilt in exchange for a reduced sentence?

Mao Qingxiang: In my sixth year in prison, the warden said I had over 200 merit points and could get a sentence reduction—if I confessed. I refused. I served the full eight-year sentence.

[Photo caption]

On July 16, 2025, Lü Gengsong (left) was just released from prison. His first visit was to see Zou Wei’s mother (center), accompanied by Mao Qingxiang (right).

Reporter: What is life like for you after release?

Mao Qingxiang: I’m living in Huzhou now. On July 17, I was detained at the police station for 24 hours. The state security police drove me to Hangzhou for interrogation. They won’t issue me a passport—I can’t leave the country. My WeChat and phone calls are all monitored. Holding people accountable retroactively is their usual tactic.

Reporter: Have you met with Lü Gengsong, who was just released?

Mao Qingxiang: Yes, I’ve met with my old comrade. He’s still recovering, since he’s been out of touch with society for so long. But I believe he’ll soon be communicating with everyone again.

Reporter: What do you think of The Opposition Party’s revival today?

Mao Qingxiang: It’s a great thing that you can revive it. I can’t do anything from inside the country now, but I’m happy that you can carry it on. I’ve never regretted founding The Opposition Party. As long as someone is still willing to speak out, the flame of freedom will not die.

Epilogue: The Opposition Spirit—An Unextinguished Flame

Mao Qingxiang once said, “I’m not a hero; I just speak on behalf of the common people.” This sentence encapsulates his decades of persistence. He never left China, yet has always lived under risk and surveillance. Though he cannot speak loudly, he responds to history’s call through his actions.

The revival of The Opposition Party is not only a commemoration but also a continuation of the “opposition spirit” into the future. This spirit means refusing to dance with power, always standing with the people, and using a glimmer of light to illuminate the darkness.

To this day, the ban on press freedom remains. We still cannot freely form political parties. But we can take the torch from our predecessors and continue to pass on the warmth of truth. The Opposition Party will not cease publication—even if every word comes at a price.

Because we believe: true opposition is not just a stance—it is a responsibility.

Appendix: Reflections Behind a Poem from the April 5th Movement

On April 5, 1976, during the nationwide mourning of Zhou Enlai and protests against Mao Zedong known as the April 5th Movement, Mao Qingxiang posted his first poem “Why Fear Evil Spirits Repeating Their Crimes” on the “Democracy Wall” near the Hangzhou Municipal Government:

Why Fear Evil Spirits Repeating Their Crimes

Qingming offerings mourn the fallen, how sorrowful the cry,

The heroic souls of martyrs shall never die.

The Premier’s image still before our eyes,

Storms and tempests again do rise.

The bright foundation laid by one so great,

Deeds of glory time cannot abate.

Today the brave take up the cause anew,

Why fear if evil spirits stir once more too?

This poem was later included on page 60 of Selected Poems of April 5th by China Youth Press. Over time, as more historical archives and memoirs emerged, Zhou Enlai’s dual-faced political role has become clearer. Mao Qingxiang often uses this poem to remind others how easily the search for truth can be obscured in historical fog.

Friday Jianghu on the Evening of July 26

200 E Garvey Ave

本期“周五江湖”专门邀请一位“神秘嘉宾”作题为“中共镇压民主运动和民运人士的手段和方法以及我们应对的策略和预案”的专题报告之一，并就最近关于移民等的热门话题展开交流，欢迎大家准时到场！

时间：7月26日晚上7：00–9：00

地点：200 E Garvey Ave # 201, Monterey Park, CA 91755

Friday Jianghu on the Evening of July 26

200 E Garvey Ave

This session of “Friday Jianghu” specially invites a mystery guest to give a featured talk titled:

“The Methods and Means by Which the CCP Suppresses the Democracy Movement and Activists, and Our Strategies and Contingency Plans in Response.”

There will also be a discussion on recent hot topics such as immigration.

Everyone is welcome to attend on time!

Time: July 26, 7:00 PM – 9:00 PM

Location: 200 E Garvey Ave #201, Monterey Park, CA 91755

Exhibition on 100 Years of CCP Atrocities

中共自建政以来，通过残酷镇压异见人士、海外渗透和跨国打压手段维护统治，甚至在多国设立秘密警察站，威胁侨民。但正义不会沉默，美国政府已抓获并定罪多名中共特务，为民主自由反击！

中国民主党举办第三十三期“中共百年暴行展”。本次展览内容：揭露中共暴行，支持海内外民主人士，一起了解真相！推翻中共，再造共和！！！

活动详情

时间：7月 26 (星期六） 9:00～11:00am

地点：丁胖子广场

内容：揭露中共暴行、美国政府反击中共特务！

本周举办党支部：中国民主党哈岗支部

策划组织：王乃一、邓小勇

电 话：6192486460 现场负责人：王乃一、邓小勇

中共镇压无孔不入，但我们团结的力量能推动改变。让我们用行动支持正义，为民主自由站台！

Exhibition on 100 Years of CCP Atrocities

Since its founding, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has maintained its rule through brutal suppression of dissent, overseas infiltration, and transnational repression. It has even established secret police stations in multiple countries to intimidate diaspora communities. But justice will not remain silent. The U.S. government has already arrested and convicted several CCP agents—this is a powerful response in defense of democracy and freedom!

The China Democracy Party presents the 33rd edition of the ‘Exhibition on 100 Years of CCP Atrocities.’ This exhibition aims to expose the crimes of the CCP, support democratic activists in China and abroad, and spread the truth. Together, let us overthrow the CCP and rebuild the Republic!

Event Details

🕘 Date & Time: Saturday, July 26, 9:00–11:00 AM

📍 Location: Ding Pangzi Plaza

📚 Content: Exposing CCP atrocities and highlighting U.S. efforts to counter Chinese espionage

📌 Hosted by: China Democracy Party, Hacienda Heights Chapter

📋 Organizers: Wang Naiyi, Deng Xiaoyong

📞 Contact: 619-248-6460

👥 On-site Coordinators: Wang Naiyi, Deng Xiaoyong

The CCP’s repression knows no bounds—but united, we can drive change. Take action for justice. Stand up for democracy and freedom!

June Fourth Memorial Museum Event Preview – July 27

7月27日（周日）下午2点—-4点:

林培瑞教授系列课程之三：刘宾雁的启示

欢迎报名参加：https://www.zeffy.com/en-US/ticketing/china-academy-lecture-series-at-the-tiananmen-memorial-museum

June Fourth Memorial Museum Event Preview – July 27

Sunday, July 27, 2:00 PM – 4:00 PM

Professor Perry Link’s Lecture Series – Part 3: The Inspiration of Liu Binyan

All are welcome to register and attend.

https://www.zeffy.com/en-US/ticketing/china-academy-lecture-series-at-the-tiananmen-memorial-museum

Systemic Flotation, Youth Submerged

— The Deaths of Six Northeastern University Students Were No Accident

作者：钟然

编辑：罗志飞 责任编辑：鲁慧文 翻译：鲁慧文

2025年7月23日，六名东北大学三年级学生，在内蒙古中国黄金集团乌努格吐山铜钼矿的选矿厂“实习参观”时，站在浮选槽上方的格栅板上，连同一名年轻教师，一同坠入充满矿浆与化学药剂的浮选槽。六人全部溺亡，教师受伤。年仅二十出头的青年，在一块老化脱焊的钢板下，被吞没于这个国家对生命的系统性漠视之中。

这是一次不折不扣的工业杀人事件，是制度、资本与权力三方共谋的结果——也是对“教育”“安全”“责任”这几个词最后的羞辱。

一、他们不是“溺死”，是被制度谋杀

据官方通报，这块载着七人的钢格栅板，因焊缝“陈旧性裂纹”脱落；事故平台“未设承载标识”；实习协议中“未明确监护、限员和应急流程”。一句“意外”，试图将人祸归于天命。

但这是怎样的“意外”？出事企业于今年2月份刚“局部更换”的格栅板，为什么没有做全覆盖无损检测？浮选槽是选矿车间中已知的高危区域，学生为何被带上工作平台？7个人站在3米长钢板上，没有限制、没有监护、没有防护绳索——这不是意外，这是谋杀，是用最低标准压榨教育资源的后果！

而且，这不是一个人的失误，而是一个系统的共谋：教育部沉默、企业宣传“零事故”、学校卸责、政府推诿，一整套官方语言正在努力“消音”这场青年死亡的震响。

二、东北大学：从“重点高校”到“人才输出车间”

东北大学，是教育部直属“双一流”高校，是曾为中国提供过无数工程人才的老牌学府。但它今天的角色，是资本与权力共谋的“人力外包商”。

“黄金班”“联合培养”“实地教学”——美其名曰“产教融合”，实则是官办大学为国企巨兽输血的管道。这些年轻人不是学生，而是未经防护就被送入矿井的试验品，是挂着“教育”招牌的廉价劳工。

六名死亡学生，多数来自县乡地区，其中刘某刚刚保研，母亲以他为傲，全村以他为光。他不是来献身于矿业的，而是来用知识改变命运的。他们从寒门走入大学，却从格栅板坠入泥浆——这是当下“精致教育”最残酷的终点。

三、事故发生前吹“零事故”，发生后赔“工伤”？

事发地 禁止入内

车间主任在隔壁相似厂房还原事故经过，当时讲解位置与学生所站位置大致在这里

事故发生五个月前，中国黄金内蒙古公司还在宣称“零事故目标完成”；事故发生两天后，涉事平台的现场被拉起警戒线，禁止入内。这个国有企业巨兽，公开吹嘘“安全技改”，暗地却让带病钢板承载七人生命。

选矿厂的浮选槽，充满泡沫、泥浆、化学药剂，是《危险化学品目录》所列的剧毒操作区域，稍有不慎即可能灼伤、中毒、窒息。而中国黄金集团却让未经培训的学生上平台“观摩学习”，甚至没有设定人数限制。这是学习？还是屠宰？

事故发生后，企业迅速“停产整顿”“协商赔偿”，并强调“按《工伤保险条例》赔偿”。请问：他们是你们的工人吗？是你们签了合同的劳工吗？还是在你们剥削体制下的“准牺牲品”？这是中国式事故处理中最恶臭、最惯常的一幕：一边拿着带血的支票谈“抚恤”，一边对外宣传“正在调查”“依法处置”，最终换来一份“完满解决”的新闻稿——而失去孩子的家庭，从此要在沉默与屈辱中度过余生。赔偿不是正义，赔偿不是真相，赔偿不是忏悔，赔偿只是中国官僚体系对责任的逃避方式，是用金钱埋葬公共问责的黑色手段。

四、学校、企业、政府：三位一体的责任共犯

不要把责任推给一块钢板。这不是一块钢板塌了，是整个体制坍塌了。

东北大学把学生送进矿井，却连实习协议中最基本的安全条款都不落实；企业对事故平台进行局部维修，却不做全面检测；监管部门竟然连事发地是否合规都事后才调查；而教育部、国务院、矿山安全监察局，没有一句公开的痛悼，没有一次正面的发声。

这是什么国家？在这片土地上，连教育与生命都可以作为行政绩效与利润目标的附属指标。一个家长将孩子送进大学，是想让他读书，不是想让他下矿。一个教师带学生实习，是为了教学，不是集体赴死。

他们是矿井下的“应试祭品”，是制度浮选中的沉渣，是GDP与“项目合作”中的牺牲者。真正该坠入泥浆的，是那群高坐办公室、签署协议却对死伤无动于衷的人。

五、我们要问责的，不止是一块焊缝

我们要问责的，是为什么学生实习变成了“无保护劳工”？我们要问责的，是谁批准这些协议、谁安排这些参观、谁在掩盖事故真相？我们要问责的，是中国高校为何普遍沦为企业的人力资源外包基地？我们要问责的，是这政权对年轻人生命到底还有没有一丝敬意？

六名大学生的遗体还未入土，体制已迫不及待地略过他们往后看了。然而我们不能，我们必须记住他们的名字，必须逼问这个国家：你还能不能保护你优秀的青年？

我们不是要一纸赔偿，我们要有人负责，我们要制度改变。否则，浮选槽里还会有下一个刘某，下一个你、我的孩子。

Systemic Flotation, Youth Submerged

— The Deaths of Six Northeastern University Students Were No Accident

By Zhong Ran Date: July 23, 2025

Editor: Luo Zhifei | Translator: Lu Huiwen

On July 23, 2025, six third-year students from Northeastern University, along with a young instructor, fell into a flotation tank filled with slurry and chemical agents at the Unugtu Mountain Copper-Molybdenum Ore Concentration Plant, owned by China National Gold Group in Inner Mongolia. The students—all in their early twenties—were standing on a metal grate above the tank during what was described as an “internship tour.” All six students drowned; the instructor was injured. Beneath an aging, fractured steel panel, they were swallowed by this nation’s systemic disregard for human life.

This was not a “tragic accident.”

It was a premeditated industrial killing, a product of collusion among system, capital, and power—and the final insult to the words “education,” “safety,” and “responsibility.”

I. They Didn’t Drown—They Were Murdered by the System

According to the official report, the steel grate holding seven people collapsed due to “pre-existing cracks in the welds.” The accident platform “lacked load-bearing warnings.” The internship agreement “did not clarify supervision, personnel limits, or emergency procedures.”

One word—“accident”—tries to dismiss a man-made disaster as fate.

But what kind of “accident” was this?

The company had partially replaced the grates in February 2025. Why wasn’t comprehensive nondestructive testing conducted?

Flotation tanks are well-known high-risk zones in ore processing. Why were students brought onto the platform at all? Seven people stood on a three-meter steel panel—without restrictions, without supervision, without safety ropes.

This is not an accident—this is murder. This is the outcome of squeezing educational resources to the lowest cost.

And this wasn’t an individual error. It was systemic collusion:

The Ministry of Education remained silent.

The company boasted of “zero accidents.”

The university dodged responsibility.

The local government passed the buck.

An entire arsenal of official jargon is working overtime to silence the echo of these young deaths.

II. Northeastern University: From “Elite School” to Talent Pipeline for Industry

Northeastern University is a “Double First-Class” institution under the Ministry of Education—once a proud supplier of top engineering talent in China. Today, it acts as a human resources outsourcing contractor for state-owned industrial giants.

“Golden Class,” “joint training,” “on-site instruction”—these are all fancy terms for state-run universities feeding fresh blood to state-owned beasts.

These young people were not students, but unprotected test subjects thrown into the mines—cheap labor under the guise of “education.”

Most of the six students came from rural or county-level backgrounds. One of them, Liu, had just been admitted to a graduate program. His mother was proud of him; his entire village saw him as their pride.

He didn’t go to the mine to sacrifice his life—he went to change his destiny through knowledge.

They came from humble families to attend university, only to fall from a steel plate into a slurry pit.

This is the cruelest end of China’s so-called “elite education.”

III. Before the Incident: “Zero Accidents” — Afterward: “Workplace Injury Compensation”?

Just five months before the incident, China National Gold Inner Mongolia boasted about achieving its “zero-accident target.”

Two days after the deaths, a yellow tape sealed off the accident site. The same state-owned industrial giant that boasted about “safety reforms” had placed the lives of seven people on a faulty steel panel.

The flotation tanks are filled with foam, slurry, and chemical reagents. Listed in the Catalogue of Hazardous Chemicals, these are deadly operational zones where even minor errors can cause burns, poisoning, or suffocation.

And yet, China National Gold Group allowed untrained students to “observe and learn” on these platforms—without any cap on participant numbers.

Is this education—or execution?

After the incident, the company quickly halted production, offered “compensation negotiations,” and insisted on settling “under the Work-Related Injury Insurance Regulations.”

We ask:

Were these students your employees?

Were they on your payroll?

Or were they quasi-sacrificial victims under your exploitative system?

This is the darkest, most common routine in China’s accident management:

One hand hands over a blood-stained check, while the other hand feeds the media statements like “under investigation” and “being handled legally.”

In the end, a sanitized press release is published declaring “the issue resolved”—while the bereaved families must spend the rest of their lives in silence and humiliation.

Compensation is not justice.

Compensation is not truth.

Compensation is not remorse.

It is merely a way for China’s bureaucratic system to evade responsibility—a black-market tool to bury public accountability with money.

IV. University, Enterprise, and Government: A Trinity of Complicity

Don’t blame the steel plate.

It wasn’t just a piece of metal that collapsed—it was the entire system.

Northeastern University sent its students into the mines but failed to enforce even the most basic safety clauses in the internship agreement.

The company conducted only partial maintenance on a hazardous platform.

Regulators only began checking for compliance after the deaths occurred.

And the Ministry of Education, State Council, and Mine Safety Administration have not issued a single statement of mourning—no voice, no apology.

What kind of country is this—where even education and life itself become mere metrics for administrative performance and profit?

Parents send their children to college to learn—not to die in a mine.

Teachers take students on internships to educate them—not to lead them to collective death.

They are the sacrificial victims of exam-based survival, the sediment sinking in this nation’s systemic flotation tank, the offerings to GDP figures and “industry-university partnerships.”

The ones who truly deserve to drown in the slurry are those sitting in offices, signing agreements with no concern for the lives buried beneath their pens.

V. We Demand Accountability—Beyond a Broken Weld

We demand answers:

• Why has “student internship” turned into unprotected labor?

• Who approved these agreements, who organized these visits, and who is covering up the truth?

• Why have Chinese universities become HR outsourcing bases for corporations?

• Does this regime hold even a shred of respect for the lives of its young people?

The six students’ bodies haven’t even been buried, and yet the system has already moved on.

But we cannot move on.

We must remember their names.

We must demand answers from this country:

Can you still protect your best and brightest?

We don’t want a piece of paper called “compensation.”

We want accountability.

We want systemic change.

Otherwise, the next person to fall into that flotation tank could be another Liu—

Or your child.

Or mine.

Why I Care So Deeply About Hong Kong

— Written on the Sixth Anniversary of the Yuen Long MTR Attack

作者：吕峰

编辑：赵杰 责任编辑：罗志飞 翻译：鲁慧文

与大多数同龄人一样，我认识香港，是从黑白电视里的周润发和赵雅芝开始的。后来，录像机和录音机带来了成龙、吴孟达、刘德华、张学友的身影和歌声。那时年幼的我并不明白，理论上大家都是中国人，但他们的生活状态却像是在另一个世界：街道整洁，秩序井然，娱乐多元，言论自由。

在中共的教育体制下，我也曾是一个热血的“爱国少年”，是学校里的共青团积极分子。1997年7月1日零点，全世界瞩目的香港回归仪式，我全程观看了电视直播。那一刻，心中油然而生的是强烈的民族自豪感。像这样重要的历史事件，时政考试必考，所以至今我仍记得那个口号：“一国两制，港人治港；高度自治，一百年不变。”其实，少年时代的我并不真正理解“一国两制”的意义，只知道“我们赢了”。甚至当时听说香港特首是民众投票选出来的，我的第一反应竟是：“董建华竟然不是国家指派的？他要是不听话怎么办？”

随着互联网的兴起，我接触到越来越多的信息，也听到了更多不同的声音。结合自己工作和生活的经历，我开始独立思考，也渐渐理解了民主与自由的真正含义。2014年，香港爆发了震惊世界、要求真普选的“占中”运动。那时，我已有家庭，有了孩子。闲暇时，我常与朋友们谈论：“中国共产党对待香港的态度，就是它对世界的态度。”

果不其然，这次抗议最终以强制清场告终。2019年，当香港各界反对修订《逃犯条例》时，中国共产党竟然直接安排一群白衣人手持棍棒，追打乘客和记者，血染地板。这不是电影，而是现实中的恐怖场景。更令人心寒的是，施暴者还被称作“爱国人士”，而警方姗姗来迟，甚至与暴徒握手致意。

那一刻，我明白了：一国两制已死。中共对香港的承诺，中共对世界的承诺，又一次被撕得粉碎。

我为什么如此关注香港？

因为它曾承载我的童年幻想，是我对文明世界的最初认知；

因为它曾是中国人骄傲的象征，是我们曾经许下的诺言；

因为今天，那些诺言在棍棒和血腥中破碎，而勇敢的人仍在坚持。

纪念“7.21”，不是为了仇恨，而是为了记住耻辱，记住那些无辜被打、被捕的人，记住自由消逝的声音。法治不是口号，自由不是施舍。没有法治、没有自由的地方，再繁华的高楼，也不过是钢筋牢笼。

自由就如同麻雀。麻雀没有美丽的羽毛，也没有婉转的歌喉；自由不需要华丽的辞藻，更不需要漂亮的口号。但若想把它们关起来，它们都会以死抗争。

六年过去了，香港变了，但我们的追求没有变。

终有一天，当人们再谈起香港，不只是叹息和遗憾，而是怀抱希望与尊严。

Why I Care So Deeply About Hong Kong

— Written on the Sixth Anniversary of the Yuen Long MTR Attack

By Lü Feng

Editor: Zhao Jie | Executive Editor: Luo Zhifei | Translated by: Huiwen Lu

Like most of my peers, my first impression of Hong Kong came from the black-and-white television—through Chow Yun-fat and Angie Chiu. Later, it was VHS tapes and cassette players that brought the faces and voices of Jackie Chan, Ng Man-tat, Andy Lau, and Jacky Cheung into my world. As a child, I didn’t understand why, in theory, we were all “Chinese people,” yet their lives seemed to belong to a completely different universe: clean streets, social order, diverse entertainment, and freedom of speech.

Raised under the Chinese Communist Party’s education system, I too was once a passionate “patriotic youth,” an active member of the Communist Youth League at school. On July 1, 1997, at midnight—the moment the world witnessed the handover of Hong Kong—I watched the live broadcast with full attention. A strong sense of national pride rose within me. It was a momentous event sure to appear on political exams, so I still remember the official slogan: “One country, two systems; Hong Kong people ruling Hong Kong; high degree of autonomy, unchanged for 100 years.”

Back then, I didn’t truly understand what “one country, two systems” meant. All I knew was: we won. I even recall my reaction when I first heard that the Chief Executive of Hong Kong was elected by popular vote: “You mean Tung Chee-hwa wasn’t appointed by the central government? What if he disobeys?”

With the rise of the internet, I was exposed to more information and a wider range of voices. Combined with my own life and work experience, I began to think independently and gradually came to understand the true meaning of democracy and freedom.

In 2014, Hong Kong erupted in the Umbrella Movement—a massive protest demanding genuine universal suffrage that shocked the world. By then, I had a family and children. In my spare time, I would often discuss with friends: “The way the Chinese Communist Party treats Hong Kong is the way it treats the world.”

As expected, the protest ended in a forced clearance. Then in 2019, when people from all walks of life in Hong Kong opposed the amendment to the Extradition Bill, the CCP went so far as to organize gangs of white-clad men wielding sticks to chase down passengers and journalists in the subway, leaving blood on the floor. This was not a movie. It was a real-life horror scene. What was even more chilling was that the perpetrators were labeled “patriots,” while the police arrived late and were even seen shaking hands with the attackers.

In that moment, I realized: “One country, two systems” was dead.

The CCP’s promise to Hong Kong—its promise to the world—had once again been torn to shreds.

Why do I care so deeply about Hong Kong?

Because it once carried the dreams of my childhood—it was my first glimpse into a civilized world.

Because it once stood as a symbol of pride for all Chinese—it embodied promises we once made.

Because today, those promises have been shattered in blood and batons, and yet brave souls still resist.

To commemorate “7.21” is not to breed hatred, but to remember the humiliation, to remember those who were beaten and arrested, to remember the voice of freedom fading away.

Rule of law is not a slogan. Freedom is not a gift.

Without the rule of law or freedom, even the most dazzling skyscrapers are nothing but concrete cages.

Freedom is like a sparrow. Sparrows may not have beautiful feathers, nor enchanting songs. Freedom needs no elegant prose, no flowery slogans. But if you try to cage them, they will resist until death.

Six years have passed. Hong Kong has changed. But our pursuit has not.

One day, when people speak of Hong Kong again, it will no longer be with sighs and sorrow, but with hope—and dignity.