“Guangxi Police Deploy Irritant Gas to Force Their Way into a Temple and Detain Worshippers (2025.12.23)”
A violent forced demolition incident occurred this Tuesday in Zhongshan County, Hezhou City, Guangxi. Local authorities dispatched a demolition team of more than one hundred people, including police officers, to forcibly demolish a local folk-religion site. During the operation, police clashed fiercely with villagers who were guarding the temple. At one point, police used unidentified irritant gas to force entry and detained multiple people.
The demolished temple was known as Longfu Temple, located in Xinglongzhai Village Group under Chengshi Village Committee, Zhongshan Town, Zhongshan County. According to villagers, Longfu Temple had existed for many years, but due to long-term neglect it had fallen into disrepair and collapsed. In 2024, villagers raised funds on their own to rebuild it, with construction completed in April this year. At the time of reconstruction, local authorities raised no objections, but recently suddenly declared the temple an “illegal structure” and claimed it was “too close to the ring road,” ordering its demolition.
Villagers said they could not accept this explanation. “I don’t even know what era it was built in—it was already there when I was a child. Now I’m old, and the temple had collapsed long ago with no one taking care of it. It was only rebuilt last year, and we even donated several hundred yuan,” one villager wrote on social media.
Despite strong opposition from residents, local authorities proceeded on December 23, sending a forced-demolition team composed of government officials, police, firefighters, and medical personnel into the village to tear down the temple. Villagers said that to defend it, they divided themselves into two groups: male villagers formed the first line of defense outside the temple to resist the demolition team, while female villagers stayed inside to block entry and prevent the team from entering.
After the demolition began, male villagers outside the temple clashed violently with police armed with batons and shields. Due to the overwhelming disparity in force, the villagers were quickly subdued. Videos from the scene show several villagers being beaten to the ground, with at least four detained by police. Inside the temple, the female villagers were also unable to hold out for long. After attempts to force open the door failed, police released large amounts of white irritant gas into the temple, forcing the villagers to abandon their defense. The temple gate was soon breached, and shortly afterward the entire temple was razed to the ground by the demolition team.
At the scene, one villager said angrily, “The word ‘official’ has two mouths—everything was fine when it was built, but now they say it’s illegal. A temple ordinary people worked so hard to build was wiped out in an instant.”
In recent years, the Chinese Communist Party’s forced demolition of religious sites has intensified. Beyond churches and mosques, countless folk temples and ancestral halls have also fallen victim. Behind these aggressive actions lies the CCP’s deep anxiety over its own ideological crisis—they know well that the theories they promote have long collapsed in the hearts of the people. As a result, the existence of any other belief system is regarded as a threat, one they seek to eliminate through violence in an attempt to ease that fear.
Tens of Millions of “E-Mothers” Ignite a Tsunami of Public Opinion to Seek Justice for Ningbo’s “Little Luoxi” (2025.12.19–21)
On December 19, 2025, after 35 days of desperate appeals and online pleas, the parents of “Little Luoxi” in Ningbo finally received the decisive forensic report they had been waiting for. Yet the appraisal—issued by renowned forensic pathologist Liu Liang—not only failed to calm the controversy; it detonated like a deep-sea bomb, unleashing a rare storm of public opinion across China’s internet. Tens of millions of so-called “e-mothers” clashed fiercely online with organized “water army” accounts representing the interests of Ningbo University Affiliated Women and Children’s Hospital, battling over the final truth behind a lost young life.
Autopsy Truth: A Lethal Surgery That Was “Manufactured”
According to the autopsy report, the cause of death of the five-month-old infant was chilling: intraoperative pulmonary vein obstruction, severe pulmonary edema, damage to the cardiac conduction system, and hemorrhagic shock. What shocked public opinion most, however, was the truth about the alleged heart defect.
Before surgery, medical records and operative notes from the Ningbo women and children’s hospital repeatedly emphasized that Luoxi had a “7-mm sinus venosus atrial septal defect with unroofed coronary sinus syndrome.” This is a complex and rare congenital heart disease—and it was the core reason the lead surgeon, Chen Junxian, strongly urged the family to consent to surgery. He claimed it was “absolutely necessary” and a “basic procedure with a very high success rate.”
The autopsy results brutally shattered that narrative. During dissection, forensic experts found no trace of an “unroofed coronary sinus syndrome” or a “coronary sinus–type atrial septal defect.” Instead, they identified only a 3-mm secundum atrial septal defect. Under current medical consensus, such a small, simple defect is extremely common in infants and carries a very high likelihood of spontaneous closure. Mainstream clinical guidance typically recommends follow-up observation until preschool age, rather than high-risk open-heart surgery in a five-month-old infant.
Moreover, the autopsy revealed internal bleeding of approximately 70 milliliters. For a five-month-old baby, this exceeds half of the total blood volume—meaning the child essentially bled out on the operating table.
“This wasn’t a failed operation—this was murder,” Luoxi’s mother, Ms. Deng, sobbed upon seeing the report. “Chen Junxian, you have children of your own. How could you bear to torment a five-month-old baby for nine hours and let her bleed dry?”
Inside the Profession: Infants as “Guinea Pigs” for Profit?
Why would Chen Junxian operate on a child who was nearly healthy? As the autopsy report surfaced, multiple cardiac surgery specialists and senior physicians offered chilling speculation online.
Some insiders noted that, with China’s declining birth rate and the widespread adoption of prenatal screening, pediatric congenital heart surgery is approaching “patient source exhaustion.” Combined with the siphoning effect of top hospitals in Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou, hospitals in second-tier cities like Ningbo struggle to retain patients. Against this backdrop, Chen Junxian may have been under intense pressure to meet surgical-volume KPIs. Insiders speculate that, despite ambiguous ultrasound findings and recommendations for further CTA confirmation, he skipped additional diagnostic confirmation and rushed Luoxi onto the operating table to keep the case.
An even more disturbing hypothesis is that a fatal intraoperative error was the primary cause of death. A cardiac surgeon using the handle “Curry Chicken” analyzed that Chen may have misidentified the right lower pulmonary vein as the nonexistent “coronary sinus atrial defect” and sutured it, causing pulmonary vein obstruction and triggering severe pulmonary edema and heart failure. In an attempt to conceal the mistake or attempt a salvage, the operation—promised to last three hours—dragged on for more than seven hours, including a second thoracotomy, ultimately resulting in the child’s death.
Online disclosures appeared to corroborate these professional suspicions. One mother said she had a similar experience: in 2024, she took her child to Ningbo University Affiliated Women and Children’s Hospital and also saw Chen Junxian, who used the same rhetoric to persuade her to proceed with surgery. Fortunately, she later took her child to Shanghai Jiao Tong University School of Medicine, where doctors told her surgery was unnecessary.
“After opening the chest and finding there was no 7-mm hole—if you realized you couldn’t do it, wouldn’t stitching the child up still have spared her life?” countless netizens asked. But reality was unforgiving: errors on the operating table ultimately took Luoxi’s life. Further digging by online users suggested that Chen Junxian may have been linked to other similar fatal cases that were never properly addressed.
After the autopsy report was released, legal experts noted that if the evidence chain can establish subjective intent on the part of the physician, health authorities should immediately transfer the case to public security organs for criminal investigation under charges such as intentional injury or intentional homicide, rather than confining it to administrative medical accident review.
The Public Opinion War: Whitewashing and Character Assassination
Faced with conclusive autopsy findings and surging public outrage, Ningbo University Affiliated Women and Children’s Hospital and the surgeon involved did not choose to apologize. Instead, they launched a smear campaign against the victim’s family. After the autopsy report was published, the hospital briefly issued a statement attempting to redefine the defect size and justify the surgery, only to delete it within 20 minutes. Meanwhile, numerous influential accounts—including “White-Coated Lynx,” “Bean Mom Liu Fang,” and “Monk Bug Doctor”—posted coordinated, misleading content to “whitewash” the hospital’s actions. Some accounts even maliciously leaked Ms. Deng’s past miscarriage history and other private medical records, attempting to divert public attention through personal attacks.
This crossing of ethical red lines enraged the public. Large numbers of medical professionals, several celebrities, and massive numbers of netizens spoke out in rebuttal, engaging the paid commentators in fierce debate.
“We thought once the results came out, we’d made it ashore—turns out the water is even deeper,” one netizen wrote angrily.
“E-Mothers” Let the “Wind from Ningbo” Blow Across the World
If not for the parents’ resilience—and if not for the courageous community of “e-mothers”—this tragedy might long ago have been buried under the vague label of “surgical complications.”
From the family’s online plea on November 14, to public crying in the town square on the 17th, to today’s nationwide outpouring of support, tens of millions of “e-mothers” have become the backbone of this movement. Because they empathize more deeply, their stance has been more resolute than that of ordinary netizens.
In the early stages, heavy censorship and mass deletions caused public attention to cool. It was the “e-mothers” who launched the relay campaign known as “The Wind from Ningbo,” spreading Luoxi’s story across China and eventually around the world. Over the past month, the group has steadily grown. They have closely followed every move of Luoxi’s mother, publishing articles and videos across platforms, calling out in comment sections, and even paying out of pocket for promotions—all to counter omnipresent censorship.
Their actions extended offline as well. They launched campaigns to place slogans on cars and handbags, determined to carry Luoxi’s story to every corner of the city. They called government offices at all levels in Ningbo to lodge complaints, demanding justice. When related merchandise was taken down from e-commerce platforms, they even began printing and distributing slogans themselves.
As the “e-mothers” put it: “We don’t want to see another baby die in tears because of surgical errors. All we can do is keep bumping the posts and not let the heat fade.” And: “Even if unscrupulous people spread rumors and smears, you have tens of millions of e-parents behind you. You must hold on and see this through, until the wrongdoers are brought to justice.”
Their persistence ensured that the Luoxi case did not fade into silence like so many similar tragedies. Instead, one month later, it has evolved into a phenomenon-level public event, concentrating immense attention and anger.
Seeking Justice in a Rotten System
Despite the forensic conclusion, despite hundreds of millions of eyes watching and tens of millions of “e-mothers” standing in support, Luoxi’s parents still face a long road ahead—because they are confronting entrenched interest networks and a deeply decayed medical system.
One “e-mother” left a message that captured the shared sentiment of many: “The impact of the Luoxi case on me outweighs everything I learned from the sages in the first half of my life. It woke me up. Living in what looks like a prosperous age, I don’t think I’ll ever again be moved to tears by media paeans to ‘peace and prosperity.’”
Central SOE Cuts Features and Slashes Prices: Hundreds of Homeowners in Xi’an Furiously Smash Sales Office (2025.12.19–20)
From December 19 to 20, a fierce homeowners’ rights protest broke out in Xi’an, Shaanxi Province. At CR Land Harbour City (Huaren Gangyue City), a residential project developed by China Resources Land—a central state-owned enterprise (SOE)—a sudden, “halving-style” price cut to clear inventory, combined with long-unresolved allegations of false advertising over school zoning, ignited the anger of hundreds of homeowners. For several days, enraged crowds gathered at the sales office, smashing scale models and damaging parts of the facility.
A Backstab by a Central SOE: “Ten Years of Work Lost Overnight”
The immediate trigger was the recent “halving-style” promotional campaign launched at CR Land Harbour City. Multiple homeowners confirmed that the project’s previous average price was about RMB 15,000 per square meter. Around December 19, however, the developer abruptly slashed prices to RMB 8,500–9,000 per square meter for a “clearance sale.”
A drop of 40–50 percent meant that early buyers saw their assets evaporate almost overnight. One young male homeowner did the math at the protest: “I make 6,000 yuan a month—one night and I lost 600,000.” Another woman said angrily, “The annual bank interest alone is 50,000 yuan—how much can I earn just working by myself?” Some recent buyers said they had purchased less than ten days earlier; before even receiving their homes, their paper losses already exceeded RMB 150,000. For many Chinese families who drained the savings of “six wallets” and took on 30-year mortgages, this plunge is not just numbers on a page but a massive, real loss of assets. A female homeowner angrily confronted the developer on site: “We’ve almost had our families torn apart because of this home—do you know that?”
False Advertising: From “Elite School” to “Village School”
If the price cut was the last straw, then the alleged “school-zone fraud” was the long-buried powder keg. According to homeowners, during early sales CR Land Harbour City implicitly or explicitly suggested the project would be paired with top local schools such as Xi’an’s well-known Tieyi Middle School. A significant portion of the high price reflected the premium buyers paid for an “elite school zone.” After delivery, however, homeowners found that the promised “elite schools” were nowhere to be seen. Instead, they faced an undemolished urban-village environment and the assigned No. 64 Middle School—dismissed by residents as a “village school.”
“We spent several million yuan to send our child here to school—was it just to attend a village school?” a mother demanded at the protest. She said she had taken on debt against her family’s wishes solely for her child’s future. “Now there are arguments at home every day. Our child can’t get into a good school, and our assets have shrunk by more than a million yuan. How are we supposed to live like this?”
In fact, protests over the school zoning had already erupted in June 2025. A group of homeowners known as the “Gangdong Seven” had staged collective demonstrations, accusing China Resources of false advertising after the school promises failed to materialize. Half a year later, the issue remains unresolved—and the drastic price cuts have only intensified the conflict.
The New Normal After the Property Bust
The clash at CR Land Harbour City in Xi’an reflects a broader post-collapse reality of China’s real-estate market. On one side are developers forced to “sell at a loss to survive” amid a prolonged downturn. On the other are homeowners who emptied family savings to buy property, only to watch their assets shrink while continuing to shoulder heavy mortgage payments. Yet even they are not the worst off. Worse still are owners of unfinished, stalled projects—people who cannot even move into their homes but must continue repaying their loans regardless.
Over a Thousand Police Suppress Christians in Wenzhou, Zhejiang; More Than a Hundred Detained (2025.12.13–18)
On the evening of December 15, 2025, an ordinary Monday with neither a traditional festival nor any major local celebration, fireworks suddenly erupted in the government square of Yayáng Town, Taishun County, Wenzhou City, Zhejiang Province.
The fireworks display—reportedly costing more than one million yuan—was so abrupt that it quickly attracted public attention. It inadvertently exposed a large-scale campaign of persecution against Christians unfolding in the town. In the two days prior, thousands of police officers had entered Yayáng Town and carried out concentrated arrests targeting the local Christian community.
A Town Sealed Off by Police: Five Days of Mass Arrests
According to local residents, beginning on December 13, more than a thousand police officers dispatched from Hangzhou, Pingyang, and other areas suddenly poured into Yayáng Town and immediately began arresting Christians. In just two days—December 13 and 14—over one hundred Christians were forcibly taken away. On December 16 and 17, at least four more people were detained. At the same time, all related information was tightly sealed off.
Had it not been for the local government’s ostentatious fireworks display, this large-scale religious persecution might have remained unknown. After two days of mass arrests, authorities abruptly staged a grand fireworks show on the evening of December 15 in front of the Yayáng Town government building. They also mobilized large numbers of online commentators to post videos of the display, accompanied by the slogan, “Listen to the Party, follow the Party.”
Because the day was not a holiday, the fireworks immediately drew widespread online attention. Netizens flooded the comment sections, seeking the real reason behind the display. Awkwardly, since the truth could not be revealed, the paid commentators could only offer vague explanations, claiming that “ordinary people spontaneously set off million-yuan fireworks to celebrate the arrest of an organized crime gang.” This explanation, lacking any logical basis, convinced few.
Fortunately, not everyone succumbed to official pressure. Many local netizens spoke out despite the risks and revealed the truth. It is thanks to these courageous voices that the full picture of this religious persecution has come to light.
Religious Leaders on Wanted Posters
The crackdown focused on two core figures of the local church: 58-year-old Lin Enzhao and 54-year-old Lin Enci. In wanted notices widely posted, authorities labeled the two as “principal suspects of a criminal gang” and offered rewards of 1,000 to 5,000 yuan for information.
However, the notices cited only the vague catch-all charge of “picking quarrels and provoking trouble,” without listing any specific criminal acts. In another announcement, authorities not only failed to present evidence but instead called on the public to “expose” the pair’s alleged illegal activities. This practice of “convicting first and looking for evidence later” is a familiar tactic of the Chinese Communist Party.
Online, local netizens familiar with the situation spoke out: “Rumors stop with the wise—don’t spread them blindly,” and “No one will tell you, because he hasn’t committed any substantive crime.” One comment pointed out bluntly: “Without forcing it, they wouldn’t be able to extract anything illegal.”
In fact, Lin Enzhao, named in the wanted notice, enjoys high prestige among local believers. More than a decade ago, he was imprisoned for protecting church property and opposing the forced removal of crosses. In the official narrative, he is portrayed as a “criminal gang leader”; in the eyes of local Christians, he is a spiritual leader who defends the faith.
The Trigger: “Five Entries, Five Transformations” and the National Flag in Churches
Multiple informed sources say the immediate trigger for labeling the church as an “organized crime group” was its resistance to the officially imposed “Five Entries, Five Transformations” policy—especially its refusal to hang the national flag in the core areas of the church.
The confrontation did not arise overnight. As early as six months ago, tensions had already escalated. In the early hours of June 24, 2025, Yayáng Town head Li Bin personally led a group of more than one hundred people in forcibly entering a Christian meeting site in Yayángxi Village. They smashed the surrounding wall and gate, erected a flagpole, and raised the national flag by force.
For the authorities, the believers’ “noncompliance” in Yayáng was no longer merely a religious issue—it had become a political challenge.
Ten Years of Resistance, Becoming a “Thorn in the Eye”
Yayáng Christians have become a “thorn in the authorities’ side” because of their decade-long resilience. Since Zhejiang launched large-scale cross removals in 2014, Yayáng Christians have remained on the front lines of resistance—from believers physically guarding crosses in July 2014, to bloody clashes in April 2017 at Banling Church after it refused to install surveillance cameras. The local believers demonstrated strong organization and cohesion.
It was precisely this unity that allowed the crosses of three churches in Taishun County to survive the demolition campaign. In the eyes of local officials, “dealing with” the Yayáng Christian community represented a rare opportunity to manufacture political achievements.
Xi Jinping Pushes “Sinicization of Religion”; Underground Churches Face a Harsh Winter
After the arrests, authorities convened a so-called “Anti–Six Evils” mobilization rally in Yayáng Town on December 18. While deploying special police in a show of force, they also attempted to place a stamp of “justice” on this purge targeting a faith community.
Viewed alongside Xi Jinping’s September 29 speech calling for the “systematic advancement of the Sinicization of religion,” and the recent mass arrests targeting Beijing’s Zion Church, the CCP appears to be seeking to completely dismantle China’s underground churches through the criminalization of charges and the demonization of individuals.
For the remaining house churches in China, a truly bitter winter has already arrived.
Victims Rally Behind the Perpetrator? Thousands of Investors Besiege a Police Station in Baoshan, Shanghai (2025.12.17)
On the morning of December 17, on Tietong Road in Baoshan District, Shanghai, the entrance to the Economic Crimes Investigation Division of the Baoshan Branch of the Shanghai Municipal Public Security Bureau was completely blocked by thousands of emotionally charged Aixinghe investors. In the crowd, not only were synchronized chants of “Release him” heard, but there were also large numbers of banners bearing slogans such as “Give Us Back Our Chairman” and “Let the Company Operate Normally,” as well as a joint petition covered in red handprints. The investors’ demands were clear: they called for the release of Wu Fengqin, chairman of the Xi’ai Group, who had previously been arrested on suspicion of illegal fundraising. Even late into the night, large numbers of investors were still gathered outside the Economic Crimes Investigation Division of the Baoshan police. This deeply ironic scene raises an unsettling question: are these investors afflicted by a form of Stockholm syndrome?
Wu Fengqin, a Chinese Communist Party member who had once received an internal party warning for financial embezzlement, founded “Shanghai Xi’ai Health Technology Group” in 2017. She carefully packaged herself as someone with a “CPPCC background,” a “female entrepreneurship mentor,” and a “pioneer in supporting agriculture,” winning the trust of large numbers of middle-aged and elderly people. In 2023, capitalizing on buzzwords such as the “digital economy” and “rural revitalization,” Wu launched the Aixinghe Mall. From 2024 until the scheme collapsed in November 2025, she used apps such as “Aixinghe,” “Aixing Preferred,” and “Mutual Aid Flash Auction Mall,” promising daily returns of 1%–1.27% and annualized returns of 365%–466%, to rapidly swindle hundreds of billions of yuan.
Since the collapse in November 2025, investors have quickly launched multiple efforts to recover their money in Zhejiang, Shanghai, and elsewhere. During this period, their demands underwent a dramatic 180-degree shift—from calling for the “severe punishment of the fraudster” in November, to demanding the “release of the benevolent chairman” after Wu Fengqin was arrested in December. This change does not mean that investors genuinely believe Wu Fengqin to be a “benevolent chairman.” Rather, it stems from their despair toward the police and the legal system. They do not believe the police can help them recover their investments. Countless past cases have proven this point: cases involving the Zhongzhi Group, Dingyifeng, Yongbeida, Shupai, and many others show that once a case enters legal proceedings, investments are almost impossible to recover. In the Haihui International case, there were even situations in which the police allegedly held seized funds for long periods and deliberately delayed handling the case. It is for this reason that investors, despite being victims, have chosen to rally behind the perpetrator, making a desperate all-or-nothing gamble in the hope that Wu Fengqin, once released from prison, might return their money.
For them, as long as the money remains in Wu Fengqin’s hands, there is still a sliver of hope; once it falls into the hands of the police, it means total despair.
“Campaign-Style ‘Anti-Cesarean’ Policy Sparks Tragedy, Family Clashes with Hospital (2025.12.15)”
On December 15, a tense conflict erupted between patients’ families and staff at Hengyang County Maternal and Child Health Hospital in Hunan Province. Families gathered at the entrance of the maternity ward, displaying a white banner with black lettering that read: “Incompetent medical care, reckless disregard for life, falsifying medical records, return our baby.” Voices of protest through loudspeakers drew the attention of many passersby. Video footage from the scene shows hospital staff attempting to seize the banner, leading to clashes with the protesting family members.
The trigger for the conflict can be traced back to the death of a newborn three days earlier. The family accused Hengyang County Maternal and Child Health Hospital of ignoring the mother’s repeated requests for a cesarean section in order to control cesarean rate targets, insisting instead on vaginal delivery, which ultimately led to the tragedy. According to a detailed timeline provided by the family, the death could have been prevented.
The mother was admitted for labor on December 2, 2025. On the afternoon of December 4, labor began. During delivery, the mother explicitly requested a cesarean section twice due to severe pain and concerns for her condition, but both requests were denied by the attending physician. At 14:45, fetal monitoring indicated abnormal heart activity—a warning sign of potential fetal hypoxia. The family alleged that the hospital failed to conduct continuous, rigorous monitoring and continued to prioritize vaginal delivery. One hour later, at 15:45, the fetal heart rate dropped sharply. Only at this point did the doctors recognize the emergency and rush the mother to the operating room for a cesarean. Seven minutes later, at 15:52, the child was delivered but diagnosed with severe asphyxia. After 20 minutes of cardiopulmonary resuscitation, the critically ill newborn was transferred to the intensive care unit of a higher-level hospital. After seven days of life-and-death struggle, the child died on December 12. The family claimed that the hospital even produced a falsified report to evade responsibility.
In recent years, China’s health authorities have sought to reverse the long-standing “high cesarean rate,” promoting “increasing natural births” as a key performance target. This initiative, originally intended to reduce non-medically indicated cesareans, has gradually been transformed into a nationwide “campaign-style” effort under hierarchical bureaucratic enforcement. Local health commissions link cesarean rates directly to hospital evaluations, specialty construction, and even the performance assessment of public hospitals and the target responsibilities of hospital directors. For grassroots hospitals such as Hengyang County Maternal and Child Health Hospital, exceeding cesarean rate limits could result in lower ratings or substantial cuts in funding.
Under this “campaign-style governance,” clinical judgment is often subordinated to administrative targets. Faced with borderline situations, doctors may hesitate to make decisive interventions, preferring to “wait and see” in hopes of maintaining vaginal delivery rates. In this Hengyang case, the mother’s urgent requests were treated as obstacles to overcome rather than valid reasons for surgery. The cesarean was performed only when the fetus was near death—a stark example of prioritizing “good statistics” over individual safety.
The aftermath mirrors countless other grassroots rights-defense incidents. After encountering hospital evasions, forced removal by police, and information suppression online, the family was quickly left isolated and powerless. Through a well-practiced combination of “stability maintenance” measures, the family’s voice—and that of the child who never grew up—was effectively erased from public view.
「上海：《悲惨世界》演出结束后观众起立齐唱著名反抗歌曲“Do you hear the people sing“（2025.12.13）」12月13日，在上海大剧院上演的音乐剧《悲惨世界》40周年纪念版音乐会结束后，部分观众突然起立唱起了 “Do you hear the people sing” 这首歌曾在香港”雨伞革命”与“反送中运动”中被反复传唱，成为了争取民主自由的抗议之歌，是香港社会运动的重要象征。 （部分视频来自X：@azhongsb）
“Yilisheng General Strike Ends: ‘Human Mine’ Jointly Crushed by State and Capital (Dec 11–12, 2025)”
On December 12, at the Yilisheng factory in Bao’an District, Shenzhen, Guangdong, the last batch of workers reluctantly clocked in and returned to work, marking the end of an eight-day general strike that had involved as many as 3,000 participants. Like countless labor struggles on this land, this collective action—sparked by resistance to disguised layoffs and attracting attention both domestically and internationally—ultimately ended in failure under the joint crushing force of the powerful state machinery and capital interests.
Workers Crushed by the CCP and Capital
In the final days of the strike, the pressure on the workers reached its peak. This pressure was no longer merely economic hardship but included naked threats from management and comprehensive intervention by state authorities. On December 10, Yilisheng issued a sharply worded “final notice”—Decision on Deadline for Returning to Work and Handling of Overdue Cases. Management tore off the mask of “humane management” and wielded the stick of dismissal. The notice explicitly stated that employees who were absent for more than three consecutive days, or a total of four days, would be treated as having resigned voluntarily, with no economic compensation.
To completely break the workers’ morale, the company also employed a “carrot and stick” approach: those who returned to work on time by 13:30 on December 12 would have their past absences forgiven. This divisive tactic quickly worked, and many workers chose to compromise.
Meanwhile, the CCP mobilized state machinery to act as the strongest enforcer for the company. Workers’ channels of communication were strictly blocked; online, they found that their messages could no longer be posted on major social media platforms, and previous posts had been deleted. In terms of media coverage, no Chinese outlets reported the truth, and foreign journalists attempting to reach the scene were “persuaded to leave,” leaving workers completely isolated. On the ground, authorities deployed large numbers of police at factory entrances to intercept and arrest workers, confining them in so-called “employee care” rooms that restricted their freedom. Police and government personnel also visited workers’ homes and the factory under the guise of “anti-fraud legal education,” threatening and intimidating them not to continue participating in the strike.
Ultimately, under the joint crushing of the CCP and Yilisheng, the number of striking workers dwindled day by day. By December 11, only a few dozen workers remained outside the factory gates. On the 12th, before the deadline of the final notice, these last strikers were forced to give up, and the strike was officially over.
Workers After the Defeat: Feeling Humiliated
In a workers’ rights WeChat group ironically named “Persistence is Victory,” the atmosphere was heavy and oppressive. The group name now seemed tragically ironic—in China, persistence often does not equal victory. From Li Wangyang to Liu Xiaobo, from Gao Zhisheng to Wang Bingzhang to Zhang Zhan, from Xinjiang to Tibet to Hong Kong, countless persistent individuals have faced long imprisonment or even death.
Most workers expressed extreme frustration, with a deep sense of powerlessness and shame spreading among them. One worker lamented, “We’ve been at it for a week, working early and late every day, yet we haven’t earned a cent and even had to spend our own money to get to work. It’s infuriating.” Another expressed shame over the failure: “Almost all my TikTok followers know I’m from Yilisheng and that I participated. Damn it, now I don’t dare post on TikTok anymore.”
One worker voiced what many felt: “After this experience, I finally understood what it means to be helpless as a vulnerable group.” Regarding being forced to return to work, another said, “It’s not that I fear loss, it’s that you need the psychological endurance. It’s torturing—sometimes it’s not about being right, it’s about seeking justice for yourself. I’ve been tortured into giving up.”
In the face of defeat, workers could only encourage each other: “At least we tried our best and held on. That’s already something to be proud of.” Some bluntly remarked, “Those who steal pigs’ feet don’t feel ashamed—what are we afraid of, we neither steal nor rob!”
The Contrast Between Chinese and Foreign Capital Chills Workers
Not long ago, Japanese company Canon, also in the Pearl River Delta, provided employees being laid off with a generous severance of 2.3 to 2.5N+1 upon factory closure. In contrast, as a Chinese-owned company, Huaqin Technology, after taking over Yilisheng, not only concealed the change in ownership but also attempted to implement disguised layoffs via “five days, eight hours” to evade basic statutory compensation. This contrast deepened workers’ sense of bitterness.
Why Strikes Are Doomed for Chinese Workers
Yilisheng workers persisted for eight full days without external support and even managed, for a time, to force the police to release arrested colleagues—an achievement in itself. Their ultimate defeat, however, was not merely due to a lack of solidarity or strategic errors, but the result of the current system: a confrontation with an overwhelming power imbalance.
Absence of Independent Unions: The CCP explicitly forbids any unions independent of party control. Official unions, in labor conflicts, often act as stabilizers or even as enforcers for management. This left workers at an absolute disadvantage from the outset when facing a well-organized employer backed by the state. During the Yilisheng strike, workers remained atomized: they could not elect representatives truly advocating their interests, could not form unified demands, and could not sustain organized mobilization.
The “Human Mine” Model: Collusion Between State and Capital: In this event, authorities quickly and decisively deployed police to suppress striking workers, taking the side of management—a deliberate choice. China’s rise as the “world’s factory” has long been built on the extreme exploitation of hundreds of millions of cheap laborers—the so-called “human mines.” To maintain this model, the CCP needs to keep labor costs low and ensure an investment environment with “low human-rights costs.” Consequently, when workers’ actions threaten this model, the CCP, claiming to be the “vanguard of the working class,” will unhesitatingly unveil its authoritarian machinery to crush dissent.
Today, the smoke of the Yilisheng general strike has cleared, and workers have returned to the assembly lines, exhausted and scarred. Under the current CCP system, most grassroots struggles like this are doomed to fail. Yet failure is not meaningless. Eight days of persistence represent the outcry of 3,000 laborers against an unjust fate—a tragic act of human resistance when turned into mere machine parts. It once again tears open the veneer of the “prosperous era,” brutally exposing the blood and tears of laborers behind China’s economic miracle to the world.
On Friday (December 12), the “Zhejiang Financial Center collapse,” involving more than 20 billion yuan, continued to escalate. That day, large numbers of investors gathered outside the Hangzhou offices of the Zhejiang Financial Center, hoping the government would provide a clear resolution. Instead, they were met by a heavy police presence tasked with maintaining stability, and clashes quickly broke out. According to investors, several people were beaten during the confrontation, and more were taken away by police; their whereabouts remain unknown.
This crisis—affecting over 20 billion yuan and nearly 10,000 investors—originated in a wave of payment defaults that erupted in late November and rapidly escalated within just two weeks into a large-scale, cross-city rights-defense campaign. From December 5 onward, investors have traveled to multiple government offices, including the Shaoxing Municipal Government and the Zhejiang Provincial Government, seeking the return of their funds, but have yet to receive any clear response.
A representative of the investors said helplessly: “It’s been two weeks, and we haven’t seen any effective feedback. When state capital exited in 2024, the government did not make a comprehensive public announcement, nor did it leave ordinary investors with an exit mechanism. We are trapped, and the only so-called ‘exit mechanism’ is transferring products to other unsuspecting ordinary people to take over.”
What investors refer to as the “exit of state capital” is the core background of this collapse. The entity at the center of the crisis—Zhejiang Zhejin Asset Operations Co., Ltd.—was formerly the well-known Zhejiang Financial Asset Trading Center. Established in 2013, it initially had a prominent state-owned background, with founding shareholders including Guoxin Hongsheng and the Zhejiang Provincial Financial Market Investment Company. This heavy “state-owned endorsement” formed the foundation of investor trust for more than a decade. However, its ownership structure underwent fundamental and largely opaque changes in recent years. Public records show that original state-owned shareholders gradually withdrew, and the Zhejin Center increasingly became a financing channel for private capital—particularly the Xiangyuan group.
A key turning point came in October 2024, when the Zhejiang Provincial Local Financial Administration issued an announcement stating that the platform would no longer retain its qualification to conduct financial asset trading—an unmistakable signal of major risk. Then, in January 2025, the company quietly changed its name, with Hangzhou Minzhi Investment Management Co., Ltd. taking control as the majority shareholder (58.57%). Most ordinary investors were completely unaware of these critical changes affecting fund security and continued to believe they were purchasing stable “state-backed platform products.”
The immediate trigger for the collapse was the complete breakdown of the capital chain of its core financier—the Xiangyuan Holding Group. It is reported that a large number of products issued in the later stage by the Zhejin Center, ostensibly enhanced by Xiangyuan Holding and marketed as “prudent” investments with annualized returns of 4%–5%, were in fact largely backed by Xiangyuan-related real estate projects. Analysts point out that Xiangyuan’s actual financing costs were extremely high (possibly 8%–9%), with huge interest spreads and risks repeatedly packaged and concealed. As the real estate market sank into a deep downturn, Xiangyuan’s property sales stalled, cash inflows shrank sharply, and overdue commercial bills piled up, pushing the group into a debt quagmire and ultimately snapping its capital chain.
The crisis fully erupted in late November 2025. Hundreds of Xiangyuan-related products on the Zhejin Center app defaulted simultaneously. Even more alarming, the app subsequently disabled withdrawals, and some investors reported false system prompts claiming that “funds have been credited.” In response, three listed companies under the Xiangyuan group quickly issued announcements distancing themselves from the incident, but the market was unconvinced, and their share prices fell collectively on the 12th.
As of the afternoon of the 12th, authorities had yet to introduce any substantive repayment plan, and investors’ rights-defense efforts continue.
“Summary of Manufacturing Worker Strikes in Early December: Wage Arrears as the Main Trigger (2025.12.01–10)”
In early December 2025, China’s manufacturing sector saw a series of collective worker actions erupt across the country. In addition to the week-long strike of 3,000 workers at Yilisheng Technology in Shenzhen, the “Yesterday” project recorded 10 other manufacturing-sector strikes nationwide. The main causes included wage arrears, unpaid social insurance, factory relocation without compensation, and layoffs without severance. Notably, half of these collective actions occurred in Guangdong Province in southern China. Below is a summary of the incidents:
December 1–9: Workers at Haio Residence Industrial Co., Ltd. in Guangzhou, Guangdong, went on a nine-day strike to protest the company’s relocation of the factory without offering compensation. Workers had previously held a two-day strike over the same issue on October 14–15 this year.
December 1: Workers at Ruida New Energy Technology Co., Ltd. in Jiangxi staged a collective strike to demand three months of overdue wages.
December 1: Workers at Potevio Communication Cable Co., Ltd. in Houma, Shanxi, launched collective action, protesting long-term wage arrears, unpaid social insurance, and the company’s failure to compensate workers before closing the factory. The company’s predecessor was the Ministry of Posts and Telecommunications’ Houma Cable Factory.
December 5–8: Workers at Jiahui Thread Industry Co., Ltd. in Bao’an District, Shenzhen, Guangdong, protested unpaid wages by demonstrating for several days on the factory rooftop.
December 6–8: At Miaohu Textile Co., Ltd. in Hanchuan, Hubei, the owner fled after failing to pay four months of wages, triggering days of worker protests that at one point blocked traffic.
December 6–10: The owner of Weishang Garments Co., Ltd. in Hanchuan, Hubei, also absconded after owing wages. Workers stayed at the factory for multiple days to protest and prevent the company from secretly moving out goods.
December 8: At Lianhua Eyewear Co., Ltd. in Shenzhen, Guangdong, layoffs without compensation sparked collective worker action, with workers briefly taking to the streets.
December 9: At Weifu Communications Technology Co., Ltd. in Bao’an District, Shenzhen, Guangdong, the owner fled after owing four months of wages, leading to collective protests by workers.
December 10: Workers at Xinhao Optoelectronics Co., Ltd. in Shenzhen, Guangdong, launched a new round of protests after negotiations with the company broke down. In early July this year, workers had already gone on a two-day strike over relocation without compensation.
December 10: At Maosheng Environmental Co., Ltd. in Taihe, Ji’an, Jiangxi, wage arrears, unpaid social insurance, and an announcement of a month-long shutdown triggered a collective strike that temporarily blocked the factory gate.
Among the above incidents, seven were triggered by wage arrears, and in three cases the company owner had already absconded and remains missing. As the end of the year approaches, workers should stay vigilant against employers running away without paying wages.
