To make sense of this whole saga, we need to first run down the key facts and timelines, and then I will proceed to answer some of the top questions.

Timeline of the Meta-Manus Acquisition

• 2022: The startup, originally operating as Butterfly Effect, is founded, with research and development teams based in Beijing and Wuhan.

• March 2025: Manus debuted its general-purpose AI agent, capable of executing complex, multi-step tasks such as resume screening and stock analysis. The release gained massive viral attention and is compared to “DeepSeek” as a sign of China’s rapidly closing AI capability gap.

• April 2025: Benchmark Capital led a $75 million funding round in the startup, valuing the company at $500 million.

• May 2025: The U.S. Treasury Department launched an official inquiry into Benchmark’s investment. Regulators investigated whether the funding violates outbound investment security rules, citing concerns that the capital could accelerate sensitive AI development in a “country of concern.”

• Mid-2025: To mitigate geopolitical and regulatory pressure, the company relocated its headquarters to Singapore. The founders laid off remaining staff in China, shut down local social media accounts, and rebranded to position themselves as a Singaporean enterprise, a move industry observers dubbed "Singapore-washing."

• December 2025: Meta announced its acquisition of Manus for more than $2 billion, aiming to integrate the company’s autonomous agent technology.

• January 2026: Chinese regulators launch a formal investigation into the deal. Authorities focus on potential violations of national laws regarding technology exports, data transfers, and foreign direct investment.

• March 2026: The regulatory situation intensified. Manus co-founders were summoned to a meeting in Beijing with officials from the NDRC. They were reportedly barred from leaving the country while the investigation proceeds.

• April 27, 2026: The NDRC formally blocked the acquisition.

What’s special about the Manus deal?

Under Chinese law, the acquisition of Chinese companies by foreign investors is subject to government approvals, a process similar to CFIUS in the US. If Manus were a Chinese company and were acquired by Meta (assuming CFIUS approval), the deal would need to go through the approval process in China, as with any cross-border M&A, and there wouldn’t be anything dramatic about it.

What made the Manus case unique was that it was originally a Chinese firm, but just as the product went viral, they dissolved the Chinese entity and re-established themselves as a new company in Singapore.

While they kept the same product, technology, and core team, this “Singapore-washing” move allowed them to bypass the approvals (or so they believed) that would otherwise have been required when Meta acquired them.

Fast forward to today, Beijing is basically saying that substance matters more than appearance, and that Manus cannot bypass the relevant approvals. Because they completed this deal without the necessary authorization, it must now be unwound.

It is important to note that there are no penalties or fines yet, nor is there any criminal prosecution.

So far, it is strictly business.

Why did Manus conduct “Singapore-washing” in the first place?

Manus served a mostly international market, received USD funding, and was built on US foundational models such as Claude. The US inquiry into Benchmark Capital’s investment in Manus was perhaps one of the many triggers that persuaded the team to change its identity.

They are caught between the two worlds.

How would the unwinding actually take place?

Conceptually, it’s not as hard as it sounds. If all of the 3 key parties: founders, investors, and Meta, agreed to an unwind, it can be done. The details of how to “decontaminate” Manus technology away from Meta are secondary matters.

I heard that at least some investors have already agreed to return the cash. It’s also entirely possible that Mark Zuckerberg already had buyer’s remorse since the consensus was that he was in a bit of FOMO when pulling the trigger back then. And the founders? Very likely, they were the first to fold.

Does Manus control any core technology that warrants such an unprecedented reaction from Beijing?

Manus belongs to the class of companies that are often referred to as “AI wrappers”. They do not train their own models, but through smart design and engineering decisions, they leverage model capabilities to deliver a smooth user experience.

I have been a happy Manus user for almost a year. I find that, for someone like me with no engineering background, I prefer Manus to Openclaw as my go-to AI agent for tasks like creating a simple app or conducting deep-dive research. (However, had I had access to Claude, I probably would have considered switching over.)

Overall, Manus is not DeepSeek, or Huawei, and I do not think Manus controls any core technology that Beijing would care much about.

So why is Beijing blocking the deal? Is Beijing not afraid of hurting overseas investors' sentiments and entrepreneurial spirits again?

Although Manus does not possess any core technology of national security importance, Beijing is afraid that such “washing”, if unchecked, would serve as a terrible example for others to follow, rendering China’s foreign investment regulation toothless.

A key factor that explains Beijing’s action that outside observers often missed was that Meta’s $2 billion deal was very openly touted by Manus’s founders and investors as a dizzying success story.

It was very to-the-face.

Had the Manus founders not been so overexcited about the deal and never made the $2 billion price tag public, I doubt this would ever have happened. But since it is now well known that a previously Chinese start-up achieved such huge success immediately after changing its “cover” to become a foreign company, Beijing’s hands are also tied. Allowing this to happen without any brakes will send a wrong signal to future tech entrepreneurs.

So, why were the founders and investors of Manus so giddy about the Meta deal? And also, why did the Manus founders reportedly return to China, given the possibility they would be barred from leaving?

I think the main sin of the Manus team is their naivety.

When they did Singapore-washing, they genuinely believed what they were doing was good and necessary. And when they were acquired so quickly at such a high price, they genuinely believed it was something to be celebrated. And when Beijing raised eyebrows, they genuinely believed they could explain the trouble away and chose to come back to the country and straighten things out.

Had they been conscious of the consequences, they would “Singapore-wash” or “Silicon Valley-wash” themselves from day one, as many of their peers had long ago, and they would not be where they are today.

They live in the illusion that this world is still the same globalized world when Mark Zuckerberg founded his empire.

Will this landmark episode force Chinese founders to leave and found companies overseas from Day 1?

I believe this has already happened.

My sense was that most founders who wanted to do this “Day 1 washing” had already done it. They just weren’t as outspoken as Manus about it. The remaining ones are perfectly happy with being a Chinese company. So net-net, the damage from this case to China would be limited and would be outweighed by the benefits.

The problem with Manus is that they only half-did it and thought it was not a problem. It’s the combination of this half-heartedness and the naive over-excitement I mentioned above that made Manus into a punching bag.

Most companies have already picked a side. Manus was just too late in making up their minds.

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So I decided to let you have the vote.

Whichever theme gets the most votes in 7 days, I will write it out by the end of next week.

• During the Ching Ming Festival two weeks ago, I visited the (destroyed) tomb of Dai Li, Chiang Kai-shek’s Himmler/Beria/Hoover in Nanjing, and had a really bizarre encounter that could showcase very well how grassroots governance played out in today’s China.

• I realize what the whole “lying flat” culture prevalent in China’s younger generation is all about.

• There used to be a clear advantage of Western governance models over China’s. But information technology and AI make that advantage less certain.

Now, please cast your vote. Again, my promise is that I will write about the topic you, the reader, choose by the end of next week.

Naturally, people start to ask: if a military invasion of Taiwan is what China has long planned for, isn’t this the perfect timing for it? Why would China waste this golden opportunity?

In this essay, I will explain to you why this won’t happen.

I understand Taiwan is an emotionally charged topic for many people. Some of you will not like my conclusions. So first, I want to clarify my role here.

I am not here to pass normative judgments about which side is right or wrong. My role is that of an analyst. I see many people, some of whom are my clients and many of whom have stakes on the table, are concerned about the situation in Taiwan right now. They deserve clarity on this issue and a level-headed analysis with some predictive value. That’s what I try to provide here.

As early as 3 weeks ago, I predicted the war in Iran was not going to end soon. And now I want to share with you this other high-conviction assessment of mine.

Recap of Part 1

If you have already read Part 1, you can skip this part. If you haven’t, here is a quick recap.

In Part 1, I laid out two fundamentally different perceptions of Beijing's core policy formula on Taiwan, namely, “We strive for peaceful reunification, but we do not promise to give up use of force.”

From an American (and, to a large extent, Western) perspective, the main focus of this formula is the “use of force”. “Reunification” ranks second, but China’s expansion won’t limit itself there. It’s just the first step of a global expansionary ambition. “Peace” is just a cover-up phrase.

From China’s perspective, though, the order of emphasis is entirely different. The first and foremost thing is “reunification”, a daily obsession of the People’s Republic of China since its founding. (It was also the daily obsession of Taiwan before Chiang Kai-shek passed away.) After it, “peace” ranks second. A peaceful reunification is much preferred to war. I concluded that the US far underestimates China’s obsession with reunification, as well as its desire for a peaceful reunification.

To set the broader context, I took some time to explain why there was this obsession. My explanation is from a pragmatic perspective. The core argument is that Taiwan is at the heart of the PRC’s founding myth, that without it the country will fall apart, and that the Party itself will lose its mandate to rule. Therefore, the whole Taiwan Question is existential for China, not just a piece of land that Beijing can bargain away for something else.

Whatever you believe about which side is right in this great conundrum, this “existentiality” of Taiwan from the perspective of Beijing sits there like a rock. Any serious analyst of the situation can’t look away from it.

Again, please go to Part 1 for a more fleshed-out argument.

Peaceful reunification: the pull factors

So now we understand that Taiwan is existential for China, shouldn’t China jump on this great opportunity to attack Taiwan and finish the deed once and for all?

No.

If there is only one key conclusion you could take away from this essay, it’s this:

China, ultimately, needs a peaceful reunification.

Peaceful reunification is both preferred and increasingly likely.

Time is on China’s side.

There are at least three reasons supporting this conclusion: there is an economic one, a cultural and political one, and a final part about Xi’s own vision for his legacy.

The economic argument is obvious. A seaborne invasion of a big, mountainous island armed like a porcupine is extremely difficult. If China succeeds quickly, international sanctions and disruptions to external trade links will cause significant pain to China’s economy. If China can’t deliver a quick win, it will also become an economic disaster that could potentially dial back all the progress we have made since the reform and opening-up era. covered this topic quite comprehensively in their essay Why China Won’t Invade Taiwan.

The cultural reason is more squishy, and it’s difficult to explain it well to people who have never had real experience dealing with the Chinese. But I will try.

You may well remember that in my rebuttal to Noah Smith, I laid out my key observation: China is not an “insecure-expansionist” power like Nazi Germany, Imperial Japan, or the Soviet Union, so war and aggression have no popularity here as solutions to big problems. I also explored why history and geography have shaped China into a generally peace-loving culture.

A few weeks ago, a TV drama called Swords into Plowshares (太平年, literally “The Peaceful Years”) became an unlikely success in China. The show covered a historical period in China that even most Chinese people knew little about: The Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms (907–979 AD), a chaotic 7 decades between the fall of the Tang Dynasty and the rise of the Song Dynasty.

It was a dark period marked by great political turmoil, murders, famine, and even cannibalism1, when might was right, when emperors died like flies, and when dynasties rose and fell every few years. It was also a period when rules and order broke down completely, and whoever controlled the armies claimed the throne.

In short, it was about a historical period that stands in total contrast to everything modern-day China represents.

The show began in the middle of this historical period and ended with its final chapter: a famous moment when the Kingdom of Wu Yue, which mostly occupied present-day Zhejiang, Shanghai, and southern Jiangsu, surrendered its territories to the Song Dynasty, and the country was finally reunified, peacefully.

To be sure, there is quite a big dose of pseudo-history in this show, too. The show made it seem as if surrendering to central authorities for the sake of national unity had always been the King of Wu Yue's eventual goal. The actual historical truth, however, involved far more coercion than was portrayed.

But still, the overall contours of history were respected, and it was true that no lives were lost when the Song Emperor put today’s Zhejiang and Shanghai under his fold.

The political analogy in this show is subtle but hard to escape for most Chinese viewers. One especially interesting scene was towards the end of the show, when the Song emperor discussed the strategy with his generals.

He asked General A: “How many men do you think you need to conquer Wu Yue?”

General A: “400,000 men.” (This is a huge number in that era.)

He then asked General B, who is more junior to General A: “What do you think?”

General B: “I need 300,000 men.”

Emperor: “Oh, so General B is somehow more capable than General A?”

General A: “300,000 men is possible, but it will be a war that will leave the land of Wu Yue in total ruins.”

The emperor fell silent with visible pains in his face.

You see, what’s interesting about a Chinese TV drama that you can’t find in American dramas is that this one not only has no problem of using an epic peace, not an epic battle, as a way to wrap up a big show, but also takes the pains to show you the deliberations about the lengths those characters go to in order to avoid violence.

This show is just one of the many soft reflections of China's national character. To add more hard data to this, I want to cite a very good report from the China Pulse survey by Emory University, the Carter Center, and : (Emphasis mine)

In the July-August 2025 wave of this survey, a small majority (51%) of the Chinese public agreed Taiwan should not be unified by military force under any circumstances (29% disagreed). In the October-January wave, there was no majority opinion (38% agree vs. 45% disagree).

Should Taiwan declare de jure independence from the mainland, the Chinese public supports limited military operations on offshore islands (81%) and economic sanctions (62%) as a response over a full-scale military attack (32%).

Twice as many Chinese people agree the use of military force will only make the Taiwan issue worse (50%) than disagree (24%).

These results are similar to my own reading of the situation. An unprovoked war over the Strait of Taiwan will be deeply unpopular.

Ironically, while an American president can start an unpopular war as he likes, China’s top leader needs to read the room much more carefully before launching one. This is because China’s system is delicate, even brittle, and the deep internal imbalances caused by external military adventures have led the country to implode again and again.

Peaceful reunification: the push factor

While these economic, cultural, and political factors serve as the great “pull effect”, they can still be unsatisfactory for skeptics. After all, many of you still hold the view that it’s all up to Xi Jinping himself.

If Xi Dada is determined to take down Taiwan one way or another, for a man who has sufficiently proven his resolve and willpower to the world, he will find ways to bypass all these restraints. And if that’s true, the best moment to take action is indeed right now. With just one signature from him, the People’s Liberation Army, an organization largely insulated from the rest of the population, will jump on this opportunity to sail across the narrow strait in one swoop.

Except, there is also a strong push effect here, a big incentive for him not to plunge into a war.

It’s about what he sees as his own legacy.

I think by now, very few people disagree that Xi is someone with a keen sense of mission, whether you like his mission or not. So what’s his mission? I can’t guarantee I know everything about this, because I can only gather information from public sources about his past words and deeds.

What I am very certain of is that his mission is deeply intertwined with this country's cultural impulses. In other words, it’s impossible for him to set his life’s mission for the Chinese nation as something entirely alien to what the Chinese nation considers to be right. (This statement is actually tautologically correct.)

If China is a country that has chosen to disdain violence, how would a Chinese leader want to be remembered? It will not be hard to conclude that their loftiest dream is to be remembered as someone who oversees unity, prosperity, and peace.

Here, the cultural factor is no longer just a pull factor, but also a push factor, hard-wired into the decision-making algorithms of Chinese leaders.

In such a context, a peaceful reunification carries far more prestige than a military invasion can ever achieve, and will go down in China’s 3,000-year history as one of the greatest feats of all time.

Honestly, which Chinese leader can refuse this enticing possibility?

To put it in some pseudo-quantitative way, imagine there are 3 outcomes for Xi. One is a peaceful reunification, one is a reunification through bloodshed, and the last one is no reunification.

A “no reunification” is 0. A peaceful reunification is a 100. A reunification, albeit through war, is probably only at the 20-30 mark. It’s better than “no reunification”, but it’s a huge downgrade from the other option. It’s not an easy choice to make, and will always be the painful last-resort choice

So why is PLA preparing for combat?

If the argument is that China prefers peace, how do we explain the frantic pace of its military modernization? From the rapid commissioning of naval vessels to the expansion of its nuclear arsenal and Xi’s frequent, televised orders for the PLA to be “ready to fight and win”, the optics suggest a nation on a war footing.

Analysts often point to the “Davidson Window”, the 2021 assessment by US Admiral Phil Davidson that China might attempt a military takeover of Taiwan by 2027, as a definitive invasion deadline.

No, I am only playing with you here. Davidson actually only said that China would be combat-ready by 2027, but many people already jumped to the conclusion that it’s a countdown to war. (The Wall Street Journal even had a whole report about this misconception.)

There is a massive strategic gulf between having the capability to win a war and having the intent to start one. Sun Tzu’s The Art of War famously argues that “the subjection of the enemy’s army without fighting is the pinnacle of excellence.” To achieve a peaceful reunification, Beijing must first eliminate the “military option” for its adversaries.

A deadline for combat readiness is thus a prerequisite for peace. It is only when the PLA can demonstrate a 100% certainty of victory, and a corresponding 100% certainty of defeat for any intervening force, that war can be avoided. By building a military that makes the cost of resistance unthinkable, Beijing believes it can finally bring the modern-day “Kingdom of Wu Yue” to the table without firing a single shot.

In fact, if war were the final goal, then hiding strength and biding one's time rather than showcasing daily military progress would be the better strategy for winning. After all, subterfuge is the key to military success. Eisenhower never told Hitler his forces would land in Normandy. Putin lied for many months before the war that he would not attack Ukraine.

Does Xi have to finish the job within his lifetime?

It is true that early in his tenure, Xi Jinping famously stated that the Taiwan question “cannot be passed on from generation to generation.” Many observers have latched onto this phrase as a ticking clock, interpreting it as a personal vow that he must achieve reunification before he leaves office or passes away.

However, this is a narrow and likely incorrect reading of his intent. While Xi certainly wants to move toward a solution, there is a massive difference between “not waiting forever” and “forcing a conclusion at any cost.”

If the price of reunification is the wreckage of the Chinese economy and the derailment of China’s “Great Rejuvenation”, I highly doubt Xi would bang his head against that wall to achieve it. As former top CIA China analyst Chris Johnson argued in his essay, the idea that Xi is driven by a desperate “legacy obsession” to seize Taiwan regardless of the risks lacks firm evidence. For a leader who views himself as the steward of China’s return to global preeminence, a reckless gamble that leaves the nation wide open to a high risk of self-implosion is the ultimate bitter pill I doubt he will ever want to swallow.

Interestingly, my own high-conviction assessment of this timing also closely aligns with the recent consensus within the U.S. intelligence community. In the 2026 Annual Threat Assessment, the US ODNI concluded that Beijing is not currently planning a military invasion. While I often find myself at odds with Washington’s broader narratives, on this specific point of tactical restraint, the analysts at Langley and I are reading the same room.

Xi is a man of resolve, but he is also a pragmatic calculator of risk. To him, “not passing the problem down” means building the overwhelming strength that makes reunification inevitable, not launching a desperate crusade to meet an imaginary deadline.

How and when?

To understand how this ends, we must first accept an uncomfortable, fundamental truth: the “Taiwan Question” has never been a bilateral issue between Beijing and Taipei. It is, and always has been, a function of the U.S.-China relationship.

Historically, the US has been the primary variable in this equation. In the 1950s, when the US all but gave up on Chiang Kai-shek, the Korean War broke out, leading Truman to save the KMT’s Taiwan from certain defeat. In the 1990s, U.S. carrier groups again intervened to maintain the status quo.

But the reverse logic is also simple: if it becomes clear that the United States is no longer willing or able to defend the island, the question will be solved almost instantly.

Will Washington defend Taiwan? There are both push and pull factors for the US, too.

The current disaster in Iran serves as a sobering data point for Washington’s “pull factors.” If the U.S. military is struggling to secure the Strait of Hormuz against a regional power like Iran, the prospect of defending Taiwan against a China that is a hundred times more powerful than the IRGC becomes strategically daunting.

However, there is also a significant “push factor” keeping the U.S. tethered to Taiwan: semiconductors. In a recent poll of my American subscribers, 68% cited TSMC and chip supply as their No. 1 concern regarding Taiwan, accounting for more than half of their “Taiwan mind share”. This is understandable. For NASDAQ and the broader U.S. economy, Taiwan is essentially a single point of failure.

Interestingly, this creates a profound asymmetry of needs. If I were to poll the Chinese public, I suspect chips would occupy less than 5% of their own “Taiwan mind share”. As I explained in Part 1, to Beijing, Taiwan is an existential matter of national sovereignty; to Washington, however, it is mostly a matter of supply chain security.

This asymmetry is exactly where the opening for peace lies.

In any negotiation, when one party wants “A” (sovereignty) and the other wants “B” (uninterrupted silicon), there is room for a bargain. The critical deadline for peaceful reunification, therefore, is not a military one, but an industrial one: the maturity of domestic U.S. semiconductor foundries.

Once the CHIPS Act projects reach full capacity and the U.S. feels it has achieved semiconductor independence, the strategic necessity of defending Taiwan evaporates. At that point, for the US, the liability of a potential war will outweigh the benefit of the island’s autonomy, and we will see the gears of negotiation begin to turn.

This also explains why Beijing’s reaction to Japanese Prime Minister Takaichi’s recent comments was so fierce. Some called it irrational, but Beijing was actually dead rational. By suggesting that a Taiwan contingency is an “existential crisis” for Japan, Takaichi threatens to transform a manageable U.S.-China negotiation into a much more volatile China-Japan confrontation. For Beijing, involving Japan, a country toward which the Chinese public holds deep historical grievances (unlike the attitude towards the US), raises the stakes from a cold strategic bargain to a hot emotional conflict. It puts the “30-score” scenario of a destructive war back on the table.

Make no mistake: war is not a zero-percent chance. Conflict will occur if China ever feels truly vulnerable, if Beijing concludes that all peaceful avenues are closed, and if a painful, “low-score” reunification is the only way to prevent the total collapse of its own founding myth.

But as long as the path to a high-prestige, peaceful settlement remains open, time remains on China’s side.

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[85% of this article is written with human hands, 15% are written by AI after I dictate the outline]

(The full version can be found here.)

The situation in Iran has dominated the news headlines for the past few weeks. Naturally, even though China is a distant party to this conflict (as Hegseth himself confirmed), many people still try to link it to China.

First, there is the claim that China stands to hurt the most from this war. I dealt with this quite easily in this tweet.

And then there is the outcry about why China has done nothing to defend Iran, supposedly an ally of China (No, they are not allies.)

At the time of writing this piece, Trump even threatened to cancel the upcoming Xi-Trump meeting if China doesn’t offer help.

China, China, China! But isn’t this war mainly about Iran, Israel, and the US?

The most egregious narrative, however, belongs to the idea that China would exploit this opportunity to take action against Taiwan.

If this is true, the likelihood of that can only grow more intensely after Iran effectively closes the Hormuz, and after it becomes increasingly likely that the US would be mired in an endless war in the Middle East again.

When the US is shipping THAAD away from Asia and sending marines from Okinawa to the Persian Gulf, and when there are now substantive questions regarding whether the US military can actually protect its own allies and sustain a long war against even a second-rate power, what better timing than now to resolve the Taiwan Question once and for all?

And yet China is doing nothing, and we are kept waiting.

At this point, I should point out that the idea that “because the US is busy elsewhere, China will take the chance to attack Taiwan” reveals the true lack of understanding about the entire matter.

I have long wanted to lay out my view about the Taiwan Question comprehensively, so I figure perhaps this is the right moment, especially given what the US has just done against Iran, a sovereign state at the opposite end of the world, is stacked against what Beijing is NOT doing against an island it has always claimed to be its own, but never moves a finger yet.

And not just the question in the title. I will also use my own mental framework set up in this essay to answer questions, including:

• Why is Beijing so angry about Takaichi’s comment about Taiwan?

• Is the Davidson window real? In other words, is there really a 2027 deadline for a military invasion?

A tale of two mental frameworks

I will start with a review of Beijing’s official stance.

Beijing’s perspective on Taiwan has been quite consistent. It considers Taiwan to be a runaway province, a remnant of the last civil war, and a remaining relic of past humiliations. It has always treated the Taiwan Question as a domestic issue and set recognition of the so-called “One China Principle” as the prerequisite for commencing any diplomatic relationship.

Concurrently, Beijing has consistently and openly treated reunification as its ultimate strategic goal. Its exact formula to achieve that can be best summarized by this oft-cited statement:

我们争取和平统一，但是不承诺放弃使用武力

We strive for peaceful reunification, but we do not promise to give up use of force.

Here is what I find interesting about this statement: there are 3 key phrases: peace, reunification, and the use of force. But at some point, I realize that these 3 phraes carry entirely different weights to different people’s ears.

This is how a typical Chinese mind will rank the 3 by level of importance:

1) Reunification > 2) Peace > 3) Use of force

Now this is how a typical American mind will rank the 3:

3) Use of force > 1) Reunification > 2) Peace

You see, they are ordered entirely differently!

For a typical American mind, it assumes that sooner or later, China is going to use force against Taiwan. And not just Taiwan. It’s only Stage 1. After Taiwan, China will enter a stage of global military expansion. Peace? It’s the least important. Might well be a cover-up phrase for Beijing’s true intentions!

This is, at least, what Washington would do if it sees something as its strategic objective. If sending some missiles and drones to kill somebody can achieve some goal, fine, they will do it.

This is not what an average Chinese mind thinks, however. For the average Chinese mind, the thinking goes as something like this: the first and foremost issue is the reunification itself. But we really want to achieve it with minimal bloodshed. We prefer peace much, much more than war. Yet, we can’t give up on the use of force as our last resort. If we give up on the “stick”, our “carrots” alone will never achieve our top priority: the reunification itself.

These two entirely different modes of thinking are at the core of the misunderstandings about the Taiwan Question. My observation is that the US, overall, far underestimates China’s obsession with reunification, underestimates China’s willingness to reunify peacefully, and overestimates China’s preference for fighting wars, and not least because the US often tries to use its own mirror to understand China’s motives.

If you have completely followed me by now, I congratulate you. You don’t have to read the rest of this essay.

If you still find this to be unconvincing, though, now is the time for a deeper dive.

Why the obsession with reunification?

The first thing we need to know is that China is absolutely obsessed with making sure Taiwan is part of China. No matter whether you agree with China on this or not, this very obsession itself is a given. No amount of strategic calculation can ignore the existence of this obsession.

But why so obsessed?

There can be many reasons. I can imagine Beijing citing the history of past humiliations, memories of the old civil war, and shared language and heritage. You might also already be tired of the phrase “自古以来 from ancient times”.

But none of them are that relevant for you, the reader, the armchair geo-strategist ruminating on the future of the world.

There is, however, a single reason for the obsession: Taiwan is already at the core of the founding myth of the People’s Republic of China. Without it, China will crumble.

What is China, anyway? Like any country in the world, it’s a shared imagination. It’s a story that people keep telling each other, and all of these rounds of storytelling make a “country” a reality, and make people of the same country willing to live under the same roof and to follow the same rules.

For the US, this story is about the Mayflower, the Boston Tea Party, the Declaration of Independence, and the Statue of Liberty. Without those stories, the US has no reason to exist as a single body. Everyone might just pledge loyalty to Texas or California.

In contemporary China, the fundamental story is about the struggle to keep the country strong and prosperous, to protect its people from bullying by foreign powers and internal warlords, and to prevent disintegration into chaotic fragments once more.

“Not an inch of land lost” is the non-subtle promise the governing party has made to the governed since the founding of the PRC, the current iteration of China, as part of the same policy package aimed at keeping the country “real” and ensuring the governing party stays in power.

That “not an inch of land” is in relation to the map the Party has drawn for its citizens from the very beginning, and it’s true that so far it has made good this Great Promise. It has successfully and peacefully reclaimed Hong Kong and Macao and settled most of its border disputes with neighboring nations.

And now, Taiwan remains the last major obstacle to achieving this Great Promise.

What would happen if Taiwan were to become permanently and irrevocably independent, and Beijing did nothing about it? Beijing would have broken this Great Promise. And with that, it would lose the mandate to rule. Soon, its rule will collapse, and very soon the country will fall apart and descend into a new cycle of chaos.

This is as serious as it will get, because, once again, what’s more to a country other than the story it keeps telling itself? If you break that story, and make people realize it’s just a story, the people will question why they are in the same country after all. They will question whether everything is just a gigantic lie. They will question what they have signed up for in the very beginning. China, in its current form, won’t survive these questions and will only lead to significant human trauma before it settles into a new equilibrium in the indefinite future.

I guess you now arrive at the gist of this section: The Taiwan Question is not only about Taiwan itself. It is, fundamentally, also an issue about China. And it’s not just any single issue for China. It’s not a trivial piece of land that Beijing can just give up or be bargained away in exchange for something else. It’s an issue of life-and-death proportions. It’s about the survival of the Communist Party of China as well as the “China” in its current configuration.

This is why, when Xi got the opportunity to spell out China’s 4 red lines, the Taiwan Question sits at the very top of this top list. Xi is literally suggesting this is the most important issue for China, outranking anything else.

This is also why I often smile at the idea that the fate of Taiwan should be left to the choice of the 23 million people living on that island. For the record, I am a big fan of democratic choice, and I believe Taiwanese people should have a voice here. But I think, to be really fair, if we were to hold a referendum on it, we should also involve the 1.4 billion people living on the mainland. It’s not fair to exclude them from voting on an issue of life-and-death for themselves.

The cynics among you may argue: why only Taiwan? Why not Mongolia? Why not Vladivostok and hundreds of square kilometers of land lost to Russia just over a hundred years ago?

To be honest, I don't have an intellectually satisfying answer to these questions other than, “Well, they drew the map this way in the beginning. Now that the map is hardened into the national consciousness, they are only prepared to stake their political survival on this map”.

For the rest, they have already chosen to forget about them. They can be flexible when they have to, but where they can’t, they won’t.

Read the rest of this essay here:

China Translated

With US trapped in Iran, why is China wasting a golden opportunity to attack Taiwan? (Full version)

The US is getting bogged down in a disaster in Iran right now, and despite Trump’s many lies, the war doesn’t seem to end anytime soon…

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2 months ago · 90 likes · 29 comments · Robert Wu

He was not a famous person, but he was remembered by friends and relatives for many intellectual legends.

Born in rural Zhejiang in the 1930s, he was soon found to be a child prodigy. One of his uncles sponsored his education in the county high school. Yet, unfortunately, he had to terminate his studies because his school was bombed in the war.

Not a quitter, going back to the same rural town that our ancestors had lived in for over a thousand years, he taught himself the whole curriculum and became a teacher. What’s more amazing is that he taught math, Chinese literature, and Chinese history to students from grade 1 all the way to high school seniors.

I never understood how he managed to do that. It’s as if he were already an AI-enhanced superhuman, except that ChatGPT happened a year after he left our world.

And as one of the extremely few members of his generation in rural China who knew how to use a computer, one of his daily routines in the last decade of his life was spending hours a day playing Sudoku online. It was said that his anonymous account was often ranked highly in some global leaderboard for that game.

We often wonder what kind of achievement grandpa could have made had he been born in a different era, and his studies were not interrupted by wars, and he went on to study in Hangzhou, in Beijing, or perhaps in the United States, just like folks like Yang Chen-Ning of his era.

Grandpa was not a talkative person. When he spoke, he spoke with a thick Shaoxing-style Wu accent, so that I could hardly understand him. Furthermore, living mostly with my parents in Nanjing, I didn’t spend much quality time with him as I grew up. All of these made him this legend-type of person in my memory, and sadly made him more of a mystery even for me.

One thing I do know about him is that he dedicated his twilight years to revising a book of genealogy of our clan. I knew from my parents that it was a huge endeavor. But it was only until the last few days, during the Spring Festival holiday, when I finally opened its pages that I had an understanding of its magnitude.

The book, as revised by a committee headed by my grandpa, spanned 38 generations all the way to the year 779, in the middle of the Tang Dynasty. This revision, the 15th revision in history, was nothing short of a miracle.

I won’t bore you with the actual family tree. But in this post, I have translated 4 interesting articles that I found in this treasure trove.

The first one is the preface written by my grandpa, detailing how the original Book was destroyed by the Cultural Revolution, grandpa’s personal journey about how the revision came about, and what many challenges they faced during the endeavor.

The second one is about how a pivotal 1947 edition was re-discovered, miraculously and literally through a dream, and the third one recounts how this same edition was salvaged from certain destruction during the Cultural Revolution. It’s all but certain that if they hadn’t found this 1947 edition, my grandpa would not have been able to finish this project before he passed away.

The last one was one of the more ancient accounts written and added to the book by ancestors. They read like a history book, written in classical Chinese. This particular one that I referenced here recounted how their little town suffered during the horrendous Taiping Rebellion, the Chinese civil war in the 1850s and 60s that claimed the lives of millions.

The motivation for this translation is two-fold.

First, I want to showcase to you this side of China, about what many of our older generation treasure at heart, a glimpse into their spiritual world.

Reading about how those lively characters - my grandpa who vowed that he would dedicate his life to this project, Mr. Chuanjia who kneeled before the long-lost 1947 edition and wept with joy - reminds me that, contrary to my own perception, many Chinese people are also faithful. It’s just that the exact nature of faith may be different from other versions.

The second motivation, of course, is to remember my own late grandpa. The private, silent, reclusive old genius who taught the child me math and Chinese history lessons. The eternal stranger that I would never be able to direct my questions to.

Yet, reading his own words, written in his life’s project for both his ancestors and for posterity, left me with an understanding of him that I never had before: a man of passion who finally found his calling.

I miss you, Grandpa.

And I hope you enjoy his work.

#1 Preface to the 15th Revision of the Tangpu Wu Clan Genealogy

By Wu Shiquan, 38th Generation Descendant, Editor-in-Chief of the 15th Revision March 2010

The Seed of a Dream

In the spring of 2001, while spending the Lunar New Year at my son’s home in Nanjing, our family of five took a weekend trip to Meicun Town in Wuxi. We went to seek the ancient lands of the Wu State and to pay our respects to the enduring legacy of our ancestor, Taibo. Since I was a young child, my father had told me that the birthplace of the Wu surname was Meili (modern-day Meicun). That seed of “seeking one’s roots” was planted in my heart long ago; this journey was the fulfillment of a childhood dream.

Upon arriving at Meicun and entering the Taibo Temple, we paid homage in the Zhide Main Hall. There stands the seated statue of Taibo, the founding ancestor of the Wu clan, wearing a ceremonial crown and royal robes, his feet in red ritual shoes—a figure of dignity and kindness. We moved on to admire the statues of the twenty-four kings of the Wu State and their loyal ministers in the east and west wings before strolling through the temple grounds.

By chance, we came upon the office of the “General Genealogy of the Chinese Wu Clan” committee, then located within the temple. We were warmly received by kinsmen currently working on the records. During our conversation, one kinsman searched the catalog of the Shanghai Library’s Genealogy Department for me. He discovered they held a copy of the Tangpu1 Wu Clan Genealogy. I was overjoyed; the thought of reviving our family lineage took hold of me instantly. I immediately asked my son to visit the library the next time he was in Shanghai.

However, the result was disappointing. The Shanghai collection was a 1916 edition (the Year of Bingchen), but it consisted of only two volumes. It was insufficient for a full reconstruction. We returned empty-handed.

The Bitter Search

To revive a genealogy, one must trace back to the source and clarify the branches of the lineage; this is impossible without an “old record” to serve as a blueprint.

For someone like me, who had never been involved in such work, the old records were essential as a template to follow. In short, trying to rebuild a genealogy without the original records is like building a castle in the air—pure fantasy.

Yet, knowing the Shanghai Library held a fragment, I felt certain that a full copy must exist somewhere in Tangpu or its neighboring areas. Armed with a sincere heart and the conviction that the records could be found, I began a long and arduous search.

The journey was bitter and frustrating. Clues appeared from time to time, but they were all “flowers in a mirror or the moon in the water”—illusions that vanished as soon as I pursued them.

By 2008, my investigation revealed a tragic history: the last time the Tangpu Wu Clan Genealogy had been revised was in 1947, shortly after the victory against Japanese aggression. The work began as the smoke of war was still clearing and was hastily concluded in 1948 amidst the booming cannons of the Civil War.

That edition was ill-fated.

Almost as soon as it was finished, legal disputes over entries led to a lawsuit. The records were eventually declared void by public notice. Aside from a few private copies and some public records, the rest were sealed in the ancestral temple.

During the early years of the Cultural Revolution, the hall was demolished to build a public assembly hall. The records were moved to a private home, and a few volumes were scattered. When the “Smash the Four Olds” campaign swept the nation, the remaining books were seized. Viewed as “feudal dross,” they were left in a local office to rot. Eventually, a flood soaked the building, and the records were destroyed entirely.

As for the private copies held by branches that had moved away, they were either confiscated or quietly destroyed by families fearing political persecution.

We knew that one public copy had been entrusted to a veteran for safekeeping after the revolution. He survived the political movements, and the records remained with him until after the Cultural Revolution. Sadly, he lived a lonely life with no heirs. After his passing, his nephew cleared out his belongings; he took the furniture of value and burned everything else—including the Book.

My hopes vanished in those rising flames. After eight years of searching, I had not seen a single page of our history.

The dream seemed to have turned to ash.

A Turn of Fortune

At the end of 2008, a kinsman named Chuanjia reached out to me, enthusiastically offering his support and a willingness to search together. This reignited my passion. We searched Tangpu and its surrounding areas again and expanded our scope to the libraries and archives of Shaoxing and Shangyu, but the result was the same: nothing.

Then, just as we felt we had reached a dead end, light appeared. One evening in July 2009, Chuanjia and his son, Jianbo, came to my house beaming with joy. As soon as they entered, they shouted: “The genealogy is found!”

I was so stunned I couldn’t react. Jianbo explained: “It’s in the Zhejiang Library. I found it online.”

I asked him to pull it up on the computer. Sure enough, the website displayed: “Tangpu Wu Clan Genealogy, 1916 Xiaosi Hall Woodblock Edition, 36 volumes in 24 books, held by Zhejiang Library.”

Truly, it was a case of “searching for her a thousand times in the crowd, only to turn around and find her there in the fading lantern light.”

I was overwhelmed with emotion. Nearly a century had passed since that edition was printed. I knew that revising the records now would be unimaginably difficult, but I also knew that if we did not do it now, the difficulty would only grow with time until it became impossible. The Tangpu Wu clan would lose its history; we would become trees without roots and water without a source. I vowed then and there:

I will spend the rest of my life completing this genealogy, to honor our ancestors and to leave a legacy for our descendants.

The news spread like wildfire. Supporters gathered, a committee of founders was formed, and the 15th revision of the Tangpu Wu Clan Genealogy officially began.

Immense Challenges

This was the first time the Book of Genealogy was to be revised since the founding of the People’s Republic, and the difficulties ahead were easy to imagine. From the very outset, we were confronted by three major hurdles; had even one of these remained unresolved, the entire project likely would have been abandoned halfway.

Challenge I: The Shift in Mindset

The first great hurdle was a shift in perception. Specifically, was reviving the genealogy even necessary?

The Tangpu Wu clan has a venerable tradition of record-keeping. From the late Tang Dynasty, when we shared records with the Zhoushan and Zhuji branches, to the early Ming Dynasty, when we began our own independent registry, we have been diligent. In the 229 years between the reign of Emperor Kangxi (1718) and the Republican era (1947), the genealogy was revised eleven times, averaging once every twenty-two years. These records served as the sinew of our clan, a tangible bond of kinship that compelled each generation to continue the work.

However, after the 1949 Revolution, a “philosophy of struggle” was championed—one that claimed “there is boundless joy in struggling against others.” This ideology eroded the very foundations of family affection. This peaked during the unprecedented Cultural Revolution, which utterly subverted the traditional virtues of honoring one’s ancestors and harmonizing with one’s kin. Relatives were treated as strangers, or worse, as bitter enemies.

As we began our work, we were met with a constant barrage of skepticism and reproach: “The Cultural Revolution destroyed all the family trees; why bother now?” or “What use is a genealogy in this day and age?” Had we ignored these voices, the project would have stalled. To raise awareness, we issued a “Letter to Our Kinsmen,” widely promoting the idea that documenting our lineage in this era of prosperity is an act of remembrance and a means to reunify the family. We argued that family genealogies, alongside national history and local gazetteers, are the three pillars that support the historical edifice of the Chinese nation. They are cultural heritages highly valued by the state, and the ultra-leftist excesses of the Cultural Revolution must be corrected to set things right.

[redacted]

The second point of contention was the methodology of the revision itself. The focal point of the disagreement was whether daughters should be included in the genealogy. Historically, under the feudal patriarchal system, only males could inherit the family line—a practice that clearly discriminates against women and stands in direct contradiction to our modern Constitution and national policy.

Consequently, we explicitly proposed that only-child daughters and their children (both grandsons and granddaughters) be permitted to carry on the lineage (indicated by a “red line” in the pedigree charts). While this move comforted families with only one daughter, it drew fierce opposition from others: “Historically, only sons get the red line. If daughters can have it too, what kind of genealogy is this?” Some sons-in-law also worried: “If my children are registered in the Wu Clan records, what happens when my own family revises its genealogy?”

With only-daughter households making up nearly half of our families, the project could not proceed without dispelling these prejudices. In our “Second Letter to Kinsmen,” we argued the legitimacy of including daughters from the perspectives of law, national policy, and biological bloodlines. We clarified that a genealogy is not a government household register; a person is not restricted to appearing in only one family’s records. By presenting facts and reasoning, the controversy was finally settled. Not only did these families participate with confidence, but they also donated generously—of the nine households that donated over 10,000 RMB, three were families with only daughters.

Challenge II: Tracing the Ancestral Source

The second major difficulty was tracing ancestral origins. If a clan member cannot find their ancestor in the existing records, they cannot “link” to the lineage, making the revision impossible.

Initially, we worked from the 1916 edition, which was 94 years old. Even an infant recorded in that edition would be 95 today; effectively, not a single person currently alive appeared in those books. To find a link, one needed the names, zodiac signs, spouses, and burial details of deceased fathers, grandfathers, or even great-great-grandfathers who were born before 1916.

This forced us to add an extra step to the process: a comprehensive ancestral investigation. But, while we found matches for many, some kinsmen knew nothing of their ancestors beyond one or two names. Searching for a match in over twenty volumes was like looking for a needle in a haystack. We could neither ignore them nor manufacture a false connection, leaving us in a total deadlock.

Fortunately, a 1947 edition was discovered in the Village of Wujialou shortly after. This closed the gap by 31 years and finally solved the puzzle. (We owe an eternal debt of gratitude to Mr. Bingcan for preserving this record; his story is detailed in a separate entry in Volume Hai).

[Robert: You can find this fascinating story in Articles #2 and #3]

Challenge III: Securing Funds

The costs of such an undertaking are high. Since genealogical revision is a private, grassroots activity, no government funding is available. Given the economic circumstances of the Tangpu Wu clan, no single individual could shoulder the cost alone, and a “per-head” tax would have been insufficient and met with resistance.

We took a different path: voluntary sponsorship with symbolic rewards. We encouraged the successful to give more, allowed those in financial difficulty to give nothing, and asked everyone else to contribute what they could. This proved effective, eventually raising over 300,000 RMB.

We are deeply grateful for this generosity and have treated every cent with the utmost care. Aside from small stipends for those doing door-to-door registration and data entry, all members of the two committees served as volunteers without pay. As a result, we raised enough not only to finish the genealogy but also to allocate half the funds toward rebuilding the Wu Clan Ancestral Hall. To date, the main structure—the Hall of Ancestors—has been completed. This serves as both a comfort to the spirits of our ancestors and a token of gratitude to all who donated.

[Redacted]

#2 How the pivotal 1947 edition was found, literally by a dream

The Dream That Saved Our History

Following the opening ceremony, we worked on two parallel tracks: the door-to-door collection of modern family data and the painstaking search for our ancestral roots. While the data collection went smoothly, the search for our origins was repeatedly thwarted.

The reason was clear: we were relying on the 1916 edition of the Tangpu Wu Clan Genealogy. A century of separation is a vast chasm to bridge. Every time we hit a dead end, a collective sigh would ripple through the committee: “If only we had the 1947 edition... all these problems would vanish.” This became a mantra for everyone involved, especially for Mr.Zhigang, who was assisting me in the search.

As the saying goes, “What you think of by day, you dream of by night.”

Late on the night of October 4th, after an exhausting day of work, Zhigang drifted into a deep sleep. In his dream, he saw a mountain of genealogies in the distance. He rushed forward and grabbed one in his hands, only for it to vanish into thin air. Just as he was overcome with frustration, a mysterious voice whispered to him: “The records you need are in the village of Wujialou!” He woke with a start, realizing it was but a dream.

A Leap of Faith

The next morning, Zhigang couldn’t shake the dream. He thought to himself: Better to believe it might be true than to dismiss it. He knew there was a branch of our clan in the village of Wujialou, and a visit there was already on our schedule. However, because it was “just a dream,” he didn’t dare tell anyone for fear of being ridiculed.

After breakfast, he drove alone to Wujialou. With a mix of hope and doubt, he began visiting kinsmen and spreading news of the project. Eventually, local clansmen led him to the home of a respected elder, Bingcan.

Bingcan had long hoped for a revival of our family records. Without a moment’s hesitation, he brought out his most precious treasure: the 1947 edition of the Tangpu Wu Clan Genealogy, which he had hidden for decades and had never told anyone about. When Zhigang saw the words “Wu Clan Genealogy” inscribed on the wooden chest, he realized his dream had manifested into reality. Overcome with emotion, he dropped to his knees and bowed deeply in reverence.

This display of sincerity deeply moved Bingcan and the onlookers. When Zhigang asked to borrow the records for the committee, Bingcan immediately agreed. Beside himself with joy, Zhigang called our office to report the news. It was nearly noon, and the entire committee was waiting breathlessly for his call.

#3 How the pivotal 1947 edition was saved from destruction

The Secret Guardian of Wujialou

Exhilarating news arrived on the morning of October 5th: the 1947 edition of the Tangpu Wu Clan Genealogy—a set we had spent years searching for to no avail—had been discovered in the tiny mountain village of Wujialou.

The set consisted of twenty-six volumes. Three had been lost to history (held as court evidence in the former Zhejiang High People’s Court due to an old lawsuit), but the remaining twenty-three were largely intact, save for some minor damage from silverfish. After decades of political upheaval and natural disasters, these volumes were the “lone survivors” of a shattered legacy. The man responsible for saving these precious texts was Bingcan, a descendant of the Fusao branch.

An Unlikely Protector

Bingcan was a 36th-generation descendant of our ancestor Wenjian. Since the early days of rural credit cooperatives in 1958, he had worked at the Haoba Credit Union, eventually serving as its director from 1964 until his retirement. He was a man of integrity—down-to-earth, sincere, and widely respected. This public standing provided the “outer shield” that allowed the records to survive in his hands. But more importantly, it was his inner conviction—his deep understanding that a genealogy is the soul of a family—that drove him to act.

The records had originally been kept by a branch leader named Guijin. However, after the 1949 Revolution, Guijin was classified as an “Upper-Middle Peasant.” In that era of radical leftist politics, he realized he was powerless to protect the books and handed them to Chun-yue, a kinsman from a “Poor and Lower-Middle Peasant” background, hoping the political classification would act as a safeguard.

During the “Four Cleansings” movement in 1964, a government work team seized the records to search for political evidence. After the team left, the books were returned, but they were treated with total neglect.

Rescuing History from Playgrounds

Bingcan watched this decline with a heavy heart. He remembered a time when generations before him treated the genealogy as a sacred object, kept in multiple layers of silk and hidden away. In the old days, opening the records was a ritual: one had to wash their hands, change clothes, and burn incense as if visiting the ancestors in person. Now, seeing them cast aside was a desecration. Yet, given the social climate of the time, Bingcan didn’t dare act rashly.

The breaking point came when he saw local schoolchildren, ignorant of what the books were, using the ancient pages as scrap paper for doodling and scribbling. He knew that if he didn’t act, the history of our clan would be wiped out.

Risking everything, Bingcan leveraged his local prestige and his devotion to his ancestors to literally “rescue” the volumes from the children’s hands. Once he got them home, he commissioned a custom camphor wood chest to fit the dimensions of the books, painted it, and carefully inscribed “Wu Clan Genealogy” on the front. He then hid the chest, keeping its existence a secret from everyone.

This happened during the early, most volatile years of the Cultural Revolution. To commit such an “act of righteousness” in that suffocating atmosphere required extraordinary courage and vision.

Not only did Bingcan save the books, but he also became a self-appointed historian; from 1947 onward, he kept a small notebook where he recorded every birth, death, marriage, and burial within his branch, significantly simplifying our work today.

The Missing Link Found

When Bingcan learned that we were officially revising the genealogy, he did not hesitate to offer his cherished collection to the committee. The impact was immediate: Those who previously couldn’t find their ancestors were linked instantly; Doubts regarding “best-guess” connections were resolved with hard evidence; Rare errors where families had linked to the wrong branch were corrected in time.

The role this 1947 edition played in ensuring the quality and speed of our project cannot be overstated. The merit of Bingcan, who guarded these books through the darkest times, is indelible. His name shall be recorded in this genealogy so that he is never forgotten.

#4 An account about the Taiping Rebellion

Original title: 粤匪扰害记A Record of the Disturbance by the Canton Rebels

Since our sage and enlightened Emperors founded this dynasty, the world has long been governed with benevolence. For over two hundred years, the people shared in the blessings of peace. However, during the Daoguang and Xianfeng eras, natural disasters struck repeatedly. Solar eclipses and earthquakes occurred; rivers overflowed, and mountains crumbled. A comet appeared in the sky, trailing like a long bolt of white silk. The strange and ominous portents of that time were too many to recount.

Following these signs, bandits from Guangdong [the Taiping Army] rose up in swarms; they were known as the “Longhairs.” In the autumn of the year Xinyou (1861), they suddenly overran Shaoxing, and the people’s livelihoods were plunged into misery.

Our Wu clan of Tangpu, having previously received imperial decrees to recruit local militia, had prepared for such a crisis. When the rebel forces arrived to plunder our town, we stood our ground and fought them in several battles, both large and small. But alas, we were outnumbered, and our food supplies failed. We held out until the autumn of the year Renxu (1862), when our defenses were finally shattered. Our town was reduced to scorched earth.

In the slaughter that followed, some died as martyrs for the cause, while others chose death over surrender. Our women refused to be defiled; even as they were being beheaded, they chose to remain as ghosts of their home soil rather than suffer dishonor. Some were taken captive, while others scattered to the winds. The old and the young fled for their lives, many perishing in exile—becoming lonely souls wandering in foreign lands. Alas! This was the will of Heaven; what more can be said?

By the immense grace of the Emperor, General Jiang Yili was commanded to lead the land and naval forces. Since breaking the enemy at Quzhou, he cleared the entire province of Zhejiang in less than a year. This allowed our people to return to their ancestral lands, rebuild their homes, and reunite with kin to recount the sorrows of their separation. We have gathered the bleached bones of the fallen and laid them to rest in the snowy mountains.

Ultimately, it was the will of Heaven that restored stability to the state, but it was the exertion of men that suppressed the rebels. As subjects, we shall forever be grateful for the kindness of our Sovereign. Thus, we can say that the will of Heaven, the efforts of man, and the grace of the Emperor are all bathed in the magnificent fortune of the Son of Heaven.

We also rely on the devoted service of our generals. Now, as we undertake the revision of our family genealogy, we specially record these events to honor the fallen and clarify our history. Let future generations read this and remember.

Date: The seventh year of the Tongzhi Reign of the Great Qing (1868).

It is shocking on several levels.

First, Zhang Youxia was the most senior uniformed officer in the country. Second, his relationship with Xi Jinping went far beyond ordinary patronage. Their families’ ties dated back to the revolutionary years in the Northwest, when their fathers fought side by side. Zhang was widely seen as one of Xi’s most trusted confidants inside the military system. Third, this came after years of high-profile, rolling investigations into top generals that have already fundamentally reshaped the PLA’s command structure. With this latest development, Zhang Shengming, head of military discipline, is now the only remaining uniformed member of the Central Military Commission. Every other vice chair and member in uniform is gone.

And yet, in another sense, Zhang’s fall is not entirely surprising.

Before becoming CMC vice chair, Zhang oversaw armaments and the military space program, and essentially the core of China’s military-industrial complex. Over the past few years, the most systematic and far-reaching investigations have been concentrated precisely in this area: weapons procurement, aerospace, missiles, and their surrounding defense enterprises. Almost all of the senior military commanders and major heads of defense companies were ensnared. It was a great reckoning inside an opaque system long known for its capacity to corrupt.

Under that lens, it would have been more surprising if Zhang, as the man at the top of that system, had been personally untouched.

Yet, this is still emotionally shocking. Under the old logic of Chinese elite politics, where personal loyalty, shared history, and patronage networks often provided implicit protection, this should not have happened. The fact that it did tells us something important.

The most plausible explanation is that Xi is demanding absolute purity inside the military system, and it reinforces a broader pattern we have seen repeatedly: Xi does not care about face-saving. He is a man of a deep sense of mission, with little interest in looking benevolent or maintaining appearances. If something is rotten, he does not compromise and settle for a half-deal. If someone, no matter how close that someone used to be, must fall to serve his objective, so be it.

For ordinary observers, however, the theatrics of court politics quickly give way to two practical questions.

First, what does this mean for the People’s Liberation Army’s fighting capability? Is the PLA being weakened by the removal of so many senior officers? The second question is inevitably about Taiwan.

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Tactically, the operation was very impressive. It was decisive and effective, and a long-standing adversary was removed in a single stroke, without prolonged escalation or domestic political cost.

Strategically, it could well end up in a disaster. History offers plenty of reminders that tactical brilliance and strategic wisdom are not the same thing. The Iraq War, too, was executed with speed and overwhelming force, and went on to reshape the region in ways its proponents neither intended nor controlled. And the fact that Donald Trump is great at improvisation, but never at strategic thinking, only hardens the suspicion.

Inevitably, China also becomes part of the conversation. Ostensibly, only hours before the dramatic capture, a Chinese envoy had just met Maduro himself. This is bad optics showing China’s cluelessness, while also reinforcing the perception that Caracas sits firmly within Beijing’s geopolitical orbit.

For years, China has been Venezuela’s most important external lifeline: a major creditor, a long-term oil partner, and a diplomatic “friend” when the regime was isolated by the West. In the public imagination, especially outside China, Venezuela is therefore not just another failed state, but a symbol of China’s influence in the Global South and of its willingness to back embattled regimes in defiance of Washington. Seen through that lens, the Maduro episode is almost automatically interpreted as China-adjacent, whether or not Beijing had any role in the events themselves.

Two different kinds of narratives quickly emerge. One treats the Maduro operation as a sort of a green light for China, as if Beijing were watching Washington to see what precedents it might now exploit elsewhere. The other frames it as a warning, a demonstration of American resolve meant to deter China from testing U.S. red lines.

Both are quite silly.

First of all, although the Jan 3 operation is a massive gold mine for Beijing’s PR efforts, Beijing does not need a “green light” from Mar-a-Lago before making moves in its own neighborhood. China’s decisions regarding Taiwan are governed by domestic legitimacy issues and calculated risk, not by whether the U.S. follows international law. Beijing sees America’s current lack of respect for both morality and legality as a given, and a flexible tool of convenience. It is neither surprised when the U.S. breaks the rules, nor does it feel it needs “permission” to follow suit.

Also, is this a “permission” anyway? For a person as unscrupulous as Trump, the distaste for double standards doesn’t exist at all. So he could perfectly square his power to arrest another head of state at will, while preventing anyone else from doing the same. Beijing is not so misguided as to take this “moral signaling” seriously.

And to suggest that this operation can act as some kind of deterrent is beyond ridiculous. What deterrent? That U.S. special forces might parachute into Zhongnanhai and abduct Xi Jinping?

What both camps of these commentators obfuscate is that this event, fundamentally, has not much to do with China. It’s America’s problem, not China’s. What is really at stake is what kind of power the US is and what type of image the US wishes to project to the world. China is, by and large, only a bystander watching this show.

Then there is also the usual refrain that China is giving up on its “ally”. Once again: China has no allies and is not seeking alliances. There has never been a Chinese version of the Warsaw Pact, and there will not be. China does not like the idea of fighting other people’s wars. It’s just not the Chinese way of thinking about things, and I have discussed this before.

There are three substantive things, however, that China will really be pondering as a result of this episode, and I will explain in the paid section below. (Visit here to claim your Baiguan member benefits for free access)

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In 2025, that assumption finally collapsed. Trump’s handling of the trade war and Ukraine didn’t just spook allies. It forced a long-delayed thought into the open: what if the system’s guarantor is no longer reliable or predictable?

People didn’t say it out loud. They just bought metal.

Gold, silver, platinum, and copper rallied from one all-time high to another, and with no end in sight. It was a clear vote of no confidence on an epic historic scale.

This is one strange thing about 2025: events of genuinely historic magnitude kept happening — and then immediately disappeared. Social-media cycles were so compressed, turbo-charged by the proliferation of AI-generated content, that our minds barely had time to register before attention moved on to the next short video.

The United States bombed Iran’s nuclear facilities. Say that sentence slowly. A few years ago, this would have been considered an extinction-level escalation scenario in many risk models. In 2025, it happened — and then it passed. It was an enormous gamble, and Trump, to his credit, won this gamble spectacularly. Iran backed down. Oil did not spike above $120 a barrel. But what exactly did he win? Peace? Or proof that peace now depends on preemptive bombing followed by social-media amnesia?

Then there was the India-Pakistan conflict, with two nuclear powers, engaging in what may have been the largest aerial dogfights since World War II. Another event that should have permanently reshaped perceptions, yet barely stayed in the global consciousness for more than a week.

The assassination of Charlie Kirk was another moment that should have lingered longer than it did. Many people saw him as one of the last public figures who genuinely believed talking to the other side was not a form of treason. He is now dead. His death marked not just political violence, but the further erosion of the idea that dialogue itself is safe. American polarisation crossed into a darker phase.

Polarisation showed up economically as well. 2025 was the year the U.S. economy visibly bifurcated. One half of it was AI. The other was everything else. Capital, talent, chips and electricity flooded into the race toward AGI, turning AI into the single pillar supporting economic growth and equity markets. At the same time, much of Main Street felt increasingly strained. Long-duration interest rates stayed stubbornly high despite Fed cuts — an ominous signal for the rest of the economy untouched by the love of AI.

But even for AI, we already start to hear nervous chatter about a bubble. Yet, this is the last engine of American growth. It will not stop. It must not stop. The cost of shutting it down would be unbearable. The music has to keep playing.

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Doubts about America’s future would not have felt so sharp if they had been offset by disappointment with China. But disappointing, in 2025, China clearly is not.

If 2025 was the year the myth of American exceptionalism finally cracked, it was also the year China decisively broke free from the doom and gloom narratives that had dominated the past few years.

What was striking was not just the reversal, but how fast it flipped. Barely a year ago, China was “uninvestable.” Empty investment conference seats. Sliding equities. Endless variations of the same story: China is peaking. China is collapsing. China is Japan. China is entering “an age of malaise”, poetically claimed by Evan Osnos, long-time China correspondent of The New Yorker.

Perhaps the best personification of this extreme pessimism is none other than my favorite , who pounded at the table and screamed:

China at the Peak! (July 2023)

Will China squander its moment in the sun? (Jan 2024)

(Read my rebuttal to him here)

Then suddenly the script flipped. “A great reckoning.” Dan Wang’s Breakneck became a phenomenal success and, for the first time in living memory, made China a mirror for the US intellectual elites to review itself. A flood of near-identical YouTube thumbnails and Twitter threads: I visited China and was shocked, as if written from the same template.

Admiration quickly morphed into panic. China isn’t just doing well, the story went — China is eating the world. China is too capable. China is unfair. China is making trade impossible.

The turning point had names. It started with DeepSeek and a frenzied few days in late January, causing Nvidia to lose $600 billion in value in the biggest one-day loss in human history, forever killing the previously ironclad assumption that the AI gap between the U.S. and China was vast and unbridgeable. It wasn’t.

The India-Pakistan conflict delivered another unintended demonstration effect. For the first time in history, the world saw Chinese weaponry perform in real combat conditions, and it’s not even the most advanced systems in its arsenal.

In the meantime, China’s surge in biotech was set to replicate its success in EVs and is on track to dominate the world, again. This, along with the stories of China-made diamonds, China-made wine, and even China-made caviar and foie gras, shows that this current wave of China possesses an unstoppable, all-encompassing nature.

And there is even more. The success stories of Nezha 2, Black Myth: Wukong, POP Mart, Rednote, and even luxury goods show the world that this wave of success isn’t just confined to the material world, but also manifests itself in the world of soft powers and intangibles, where China was long believed to be bad at.

At this stage, it seems only high-end chips and top talents are the US’s two remaining edges over China. But the first one appears on track to be over soon, while for the second one, Trump was busy self-sabotaging with visa restrictions and tighter anti-immigrant policies.

Then there was the trade war. Contrary to expectations, China did not panic. No theatrical escalation. No desperate concessions for Western applause. Just patience, timing and textbook game theory. Watching it unfold felt less like geopolitics and more like a Tai Chi demonstration against a furious heavyweight boxer. Every swing was met — not head-on, but sideways. The boxer thought he’d scored a knockout, then noticed he couldn’t breathe.

(I have to thank Trump and his trade war here, which made me one of the very few China-based authors writing for The New York Times, which is quite an amazing personal experience this year.)

Why did the U.S. miscalculate? At its core, it’s the hubris and self-complacency. A misguided belief in its permanent supremacy, which, in part, stems from what I dubbed “ideological monotony” last year. Just as the same belief has blinded the DC establishment and globalist elites to the woes of ordinary masses, it has also driven the Trumpists to the epic miscalculation that the US still has unmatched leverage.

And why didn’t China cave in? Because it had been preparing. A year ago, China’s emphasis on security over growth was mocked by commentators who saw it as an overreaction or ideological rigidity. Noah Smith attributed China’s peaking to China’s leadership, which wouldn’t give up “their obsession with control.” Wei Lingling claimed that “Xi’s tight control hampers stronger response to China’s slowdown.”

In 2025, the laughter stopped. It turned out that years of self-sufficiency efforts, redundancy building, and belt-tightening mattered. If not for these measures, China could have easily buckled when the real pressure arrived. What was deemed stupid suddenly looks far-sighted.

By the end of this confrontation, a de facto G2 world had taken shape. The U.S. has finally realised it misjudged the balance. In Kübler-Ross's five stages of grief terms, it has already moved past denial and anger, and now drifts somewhere between bargaining and depression, edging slowly toward acceptance. The empire is not yet collapsing, but it is clearly retreating. At home, it is consolidating and re-industrialising. Abroad, it is quietly disentangling from peripherals like Europe and Japan, while staying muscular in its own backyard, to Venezuela and Cuba.

China, however, is not free of risk. As external pressure eases, it may finally gain the strategic space to confront deep internal imbalances. If left unresolved, economic discontent will find a way of mutating into something darker, more grotesque, from both ends of the political spectrum.

Fortunately, we are witnessing clear signals in that direction. If China can pull this off again, we might have peace and prosperity for several generations at least.

With that said, I wish all of you a fruitful, exciting, and happy 2026!

2025 in pictures:

On the far left, a movie review of Youth (芳华) - a fairly unremarkable 2017 film about a military performance troupe set in the 1970s and 1980s - suddenly went viral on domestic video platform Bilibili, at least for a few days.

Youth was never meant to be a grand historical statement. It’s the kind of movie you watch once, feel a vague sense of nostalgia, and then move on. This time, however, the film was taken out of the grave and radically reinterpreted. A popular Bilibili reviewer reframed it as a hidden ode to the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution.

Not a tragedy. Not a warning. An ode.

The claim itself is almost comical. I won’t waste your time by going into details of this movie. But what I can tell is that, if anything, the movie can only be described as something to criticize and reflect on that era. Moreover, both Feng Xiaogang, the director, and Yan Geling, the author of the original novel, are commonly known as harsh critics of the Cultural Revolution.

So this claim is about as credible as arguing that The Godfather or Zootopia is secretly praising the Cultural Revolution. In fact, under the same logic, any story reflecting some elements of class difference, injustice, or social stratification can be reverse-engineered into Maoist revolutionary nostalgia.

And yet, the video worked.

Partly because the influencer is genuinely good at storytelling, the review racked up tens of millions of views in just a few days before it was eventually taken down. On Bilibili, viewers can send so-called “bullet chats”—comments that fly across the screen as others watch the same segment. I was told this video accumulated more than 300,000 bullet chats, enough to completely drown out the actual film if you turned them on.

Many of those bullet chats repeated the same slogan: “Long live the people.”

In this worldview, the Cultural Revolution was a righteous uprising of the proletariat smashing entrenched elites. Mao was a misunderstood hero, smeared by later narratives, whose true intentions are now being rediscovered by a new generation.

This interpretation sits in direct conflict with the official Chinese position, which describes the Cultural Revolution as a catastrophic mistake—an “apocalypse” that destroyed institutions, cultural heritage, and lives. This contradiction alone made the video politically radioactive.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, another ideology, once fringe, is moving closer to the mainstream. It is often referred to as 皇汉, or Han ethnonationalism.

A focal point of this worldview is a radical re-evaluation of Qing dynasty history, summarized by what its proponents call the “1644 historical viewpoint.” The argument is stark: true Chinese civilization ended with the fall of the Ming dynasty in 1644. What followed was a Manchu conquest—an ethnic minority subjugating the Han majority. The Manchus committed atrocities, governed incompetently, and ultimately weakened China so badly that it made the Chinese nation miss the Industrial Revolution and endured more than a century of humiliation.

Had the Ming survived, the argument goes, China might have industrialized on its own and never would have had this humiliation.

Needless to say, this directly contradicts the official CPC narrative of Zhonghua minzu—a unified Chinese people composed of 56 officially recognized ethnic groups, including Han, Manchu, Mongolian, Tibetan, Uyghur, Kazakh, Miao, and others. In the official framework, Qing history is not a foreign occupation but an integral part of a continuous, multi-ethnic civilization.

The official crackdown on this was swift. One of the most popular accounts advocating the “1644 historical viewpoint” has been shut down, while the state apparatus appears to be so alarmed that it has already issued several high-profile takes attacking it. To have a sense of the severity of the official pushback, you can take a look at an article translated by , a Substack affiliated with Xinhua.

How to make sense of this

Despite standing at opposite ideological poles, these two schools of extreme thought share several striking similarities.

Both narratives mix some elements of truth with distortion. In both cases, these elements of truth are lifted out of historical proportion and reorganized into simplistic moral frameworks.

Yes, Manchus did commit atrocities during the invasion of China Proper. But the Manchu may be the most sinicized ethnic dynasty throughout Chinese history, whose leaders spoke Mandarin and wrote in Chinese, and deeply respected the Chinese way of life. By the end of the Qing, the difference between a Manchu person and any other Chinese person was almost entirely unintelligible. Also, are we really sure that, had it been the Ming, not the Qing, who had met with the Western powers at the sunset phase of its dynastic cycle, we really could have done much better?

Moreover, what Han-nationalists always conveniently forget to mention is that had it not been for the Qing, China’s territory would not have been as large as it is today. It was the Qing Dynasty that first allowed China to effectively control Tibet, the Northeast (Manchuria), and a large part of Mongolia. And if not for the Qing, a political power hailing from China Proper would not have regained Xinjiang after 1000 years of losing it following the An Lushan Rebellion. If Manchus were not “Chinese”, what about those regions? Should we split China into pieces now if we really want to be fundamentalist about it?

As for the Cultural Revolution, yes, it did involve genuine elements of class struggle and strong anti-establishment sentiment (which many people today didn’t know about; they just knew it was “bad”). But the modern-day champions of cultural revolution once more always forget to mention that it was also, at the very core, a great power struggle of Chairman Mao against his many perceived political rivals. (It’s just that, unlike typical tyrants, he used the mass movement and chaos as opposed to guns and poisons to achieve this end.) And in the ensuing chaos, the evil of people found its way out, destroying lives, both corporeal lives and mental existence. There was no revolutionary romance about it at all.

At this point, it is also imperative to mention that both narratives also thrive in the blind spots of official narratives. Some topics—such as ethnic relations—are forced down into people’s minds in rigid, slogan-like terms, without ever being put up for debate. Others—most notably the Cultural Revolution—are acknowledged and then sealed off, with little room for sustained public discourse. As a result, even educated audiences often lack a deep, nuanced understanding of these issues.

When discourse is absent, fragments of truth become dangerously persuasive. Partial facts, stripped of context, can feel revelatory. When people know nothing about the nature of the Cultural Revolution, beyond the mere fact that it is “bad”, then anyone who reveals the anti-establishment side of it and claims it to be “good” will immediately gain immense credibility.

I also remember this vulnerability personally. When I was fifteen and first learned about Tiananmen Square, you could have told me almost anything bad about the CPC, and I would have believed it—not because I was stupid, but because silence creates an intellectual vacuum.

Finally, both movements feed on anxiety, especially among young people. Economic pressure, social immobility, and a sense of lost direction make grand explanatory narratives emotionally attractive. They don’t just interpret history; they assign blame and offer clarity. This is the same psychological terrain behind the silencing of figures like Zhang Xuefeng and Hu Chenfeng that I commented on in October.

Which brings us to the real irony: The emergence of these extreme narratives is, in large part, the by-product of the censorship regime itself.

If certain histories cannot be openly discussed, if official narratives leave no room for questioning or reinterpretation, then alternative explanations will inevitably fill the gap. Crackdowns may remove the most visible expressions, but they do not address the conditions that produced them. In fact, suppression often strengthens the sense that something important is being hidden and will inevitably resurface, leaving the official machinery in perpetual cycles of whac-a-mole.

Today, these views are still not mainstream. But history rarely turns on what people believe today. It turns on what accumulates quietly over years and decades. More importantly, the socio-economic conditions that underpin their emergence can only worsen in the foreseeable future.

If extremism grows in the shadow of silence, while no organic counter-narratives are nurtured, who would have the power and credibility to contain it if one day, for whatever reason, when that whac-a-mole machine no longer functions?

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Starting this week, I will try to make the “Briefing” section more like the early days of this newsletter, where I write weekly reviews of events I think will matter beyond news cycles.

1. PDD’s scuffle and the media blackout A scuffle involving PDD senior employees and market-regulation officials briefly surfaced last week—and then almost completely vanished. Bloomberg ran two stories, but they failed to propagate on China’s social media at all, which was quite unusual. Caixin also published, then pulled its piece within hours.

What stands out is not the incident itself, but the level of media control it revealed. This was not routine censorship, nor a broad political taboo, but a highly targeted blackout centered on a single private company. PDD appears to possess an unusually strong ability here.

I published a piece yesterday in my personal investment newsletter about my view of PDD right now, where I also described this incident and its implications in more detail. My investment newsletter is now a paid one, but if you are already a paying subscriber of Baiguan, you can enjoy a 56% discount. You can find that coupon in the Baiguan Member Exclusive Package.

The rest of this briefing is also paywalled. But again, for Baiguan subscribers, you can claim your complimentary access, also at the Baiguan Member Exclusive Package.

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The column starts with a blunt question: What can the world still sell to China? Harding’s conversations in China — with economists, technologists, business leaders — all pointed to the same awkward answer: not much beyond commodities like soybeans and iron ore, which don’t help Europeans sleep at night. Some mentioned luxury goods, some mentioned higher education, and several even suggested that Europe should just let Chinese companies build factories there. But after running through all these options, Harding lands on a stark conclusion: “nothing.” Nothing that China truly wants to import, nothing it believes it cannot make better and cheaper on its own.

He does acknowledge, to his credit, that China still buys semiconductors, aircraft, advanced software, and high-end machinery — but then immediately frames China as the “resident doctor,” merely buying these goods until it can produce its own and eventually export them. And he concedes China’s insecurity caused by US export controls. All of this is reasonable analysis. Yet it leads him to a sweeping final diagnosis: “The only good solutions lie with Beijing,” because only China can fix its deflation, boost consumption, strengthen the renminbi, or curb industrial subsidies. The rest of the world, he argues, can only respond with either politically painful reforms that reduce welfare or protectionism.

This is where I think the framing needs a reset — not because Harding misses the right issues, but because he stops at exactly the moment the harder questions begin. He correctly identifies the pressures. But he underestimates the number of levers the West still has, and overestimates China’s ability (or willingness) to close every door forever. Most importantly, he jumps past the most basic principle of trade: if you want to sell, produce something worth buying. If you don’t, the customer goes elsewhere. Trade is reciprocal: you sell when your value is competitive; you buy when it isn’t. It’s astonishing how much geopolitical commentary often loses sight of this simple truth. Instead of complaining that the client no longer buys from you, maybe start by asking whether the product still holds up.

So let me offer three specific areas where the FT narrative — and much Western policy thinking — unnecessarily narrows the field.

First, high-end technology. Harding writes that China still buys the sophisticated machinery it cannot yet produce. Yet the column treats this like a temporary, fading opportunity. What it doesn’t ask is why these sales dropped so sharply: not because China lacks demand, but because Western governments blocked the supply. China did not lose interest in EUV lithography machines; it lost access. Nvidia did not decide China was no longer a customer; Washington did. If those controls are relaxed tomorrow, demand would be immediate. The FT frames China’s tech trajectory as inevitable; what’s equally inevitable is that the world’s top producers will always have products China cannot yet replicate - if they stay competitive. The opportunity remains — unless the West refuses it. Without a choice, China will be forced to develop its own competitiveness in these areas.

Second, services. The FT barely touches this, except for mentioning higher education. But services are precisely where Western economies are strongest. Tourism, creative industries, finance, legal services, management consulting, higher education, and design — these are not sectors where China has announced a national drive for airtight self-sufficiency. Yet instead of expanding service exports to China, many Western governments have spent the last five years discouraging them: higher visa barriers and suspicion toward Chinese students, restrictions on consultants working with Chinese institutions. China isn’t rejecting Western services; Western governments and institutions have been choking off their own exports.

Third, inbound investment. Harding recounts that several economists told him directly: Let Chinese companies build factories in Europe. And then — oddly — he drops the thread. Inbound investment is one of the cleanest, most direct ways to rebalance an economic relationship. If China buys fewer goods, let it buy more assets. Let it create jobs. Let it finance new industries. But recent cases suggest the opposite instinct. The Nexperia saga is a perfect illustration: a Chinese-owned semiconductor firm was forced to be taken over without a clear justification. I wrote about that earlier — the real message to Chinese investors was that even lawful, productive capital is politically unwelcome. Under these conditions, it’s hardly surprising that economic engagement shrinks. You can’t slam the door on someone’s investment and then ask why they aren’t contributing to your economic future.

By this point, I can’t help but sense that the undertone of FT’s article is that of condescension: you can’t be allowed to sell more than I do, nor can you be allowed to invest in my territory, because c’mon, how can you be better than us!

Harding does gesture toward the need for competitiveness: Europe needs reform, less regulation, more dynamism. That part is right. But he frames competitiveness as something Europe must pursue because China stopped buying, rather than as a way for any economy to survive in global competition. Competitiveness is not a reaction; it is a precondition. If China is manufacturing faster, cheaper, and higher-quality goods, that’s not an argument that trade is impossible — it’s an argument that Europe needs to sharpen its own game.

And this brings us back to the FT’s concluding line: that “the only good solutions lie with Beijing.” But the reality is far more mixed. Some solutions lie with Beijing. Others lie with Washington, Brussels, Tokyo — and with the companies in those economies. Relaxed export controls, expanded service openness, clearer investment rules, and improved competitiveness are all choices available to the West.

China is not making trade impossible. China is making trade harder for those who stopped trying.

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It has been my delight to answer Simone’s questions, which are always sharp, sensible and empathetic. So when Simone asked me for this Q&A for his upcoming book, I gladly accepted.

Simone is an Italian journalist specialising in Asia and China, where he lived for many years. Simone’s new book attempts to explain how China has viewed and continues to view the United States through a reverse timeline, starting today and tracing back to the US travels of Liang Qichao and Wu Tingfang. It seeks to understand how the official narratives mix with the perspectives of Chinese experts on China, businessmen, the first students who went to China, and the first Chinese travellers to the US. The book will be available in all Italian bookstores (publication date April 2026) and on the website of the publishing house Mondadori, Italy’s leading publisher. Simone’s previous book, “2100, How Asia Will Be, How We Will Be,” was a finalist for the Strega Prize, Italy’s most important award for non-fiction.

Q&A: A Chinese Perspective on the United States

Simone: In your view, what do Chinese people think of the United States? How has the sentiment toward the US changed over the last 10–15 years?

Robert: I’ve previously written that there are at least “two Chinas.” About 10% of the population comprises urbanites or a more liberal-leaning China, while the vast majority, around 90%, could be described as “traditionalists”. Their views of the US differ significantly and have also evolved over time.

The traditionalist China views the US quite consistently, in my observation. They see it as the world’s number one superpower but believe it consistently intends to keep China in check. A commonly cited saying encapsulates this sentiment: “帝国主义亡我之心不死The imperialist desire to exterminate us is not dead.” They are the same regular folks you may see on the streets, the cab drivers you chat with, who will always be quite friendly to individual Americans, but negative about the role of the US government.

The more liberal-leaning China, the part of China you will most likely have a deep conversation with, once held a very different view, but this has changed dramatically over the past 10 to 15 years. Around 15 years ago, this group, including myself, had an overwhelmingly positive view of the US, seeing it as a shining example of all that is good in the world, often overlooking its internal imbalances and external problems. However, in recent years, especially since Trump, many within this group have experienced a significant shift in perspective. While I’m unsure if more than half have been converted, this conversion is undoubtedly underway.

There’s also a fascinating generational divide among the liberal-leaning Chinese. Those born in the 60s and 70s tend to admire and embrace America more than younger generations do. This is understandable; during their formative years, China was in extreme poverty, while the US emerged from the Cold War as the undeniable global superpower. This generation was educated with exposure to the best aspects of America. Many of them also joined the movement in 1989 in one way or another.

In contrast, for those born after 1995 or even 2000, the picture is entirely different. They’ve grown up with a much stronger China, one that almost stands as a peer to the US, which itself has begun to show signs of imperial decline. Consequently, the fascination with the US has waned.

However, I want to stress that, whether from the traditionalist or liberal-leaning perspective, few Chinese people view the US as an “enemy” in the most visceral sense. The US is seen more as a competitor bent on weakening China. Chinese people will gladly compete, but most of them don’t frame this in terms of replacing the US as a global hegemon or in terms of destroying the US. Chinese people don’t measure success by the same metrics of the US—such as having hundreds of military bases worldwide or remaking the global order in their own image.

I anticipate people will criticise me again for “toeing the party line” or call me “CCP shill” here. But I say what I see. And if the “party line” is for peaceful co-existence, I will gladly stick my fat toes on it.

Simone: What fascinates you and what repels you about the United States?

Robert: As someone born in the year 1990, I belong to a generation that represents a watershed moment, sandwiched between cohorts with completely different worldviews. During my adolescence, the prevailing sentiment toward the US was still one of awe. American institutions, laws, economy, culture, and its sheer vitality were fascinating—and to some extent, still are. The US strikes me as the only superpower in history whose energy is largely derived from chaos: a chaos of independent minds, innovation, and a giant furnace where the best ideas are forged. Its strength feels like the energy of a young college student full of big ideas, rebelliousness, and the confidence to shape history. This youthfulness is captivating.

What repels me, however, is that same youthfulness, or more precisely, the self-righteousness born from it. When someone is young, they think they know everything, can do anything, and are always right. They tend to view those who disagree with them as inherently wrong or just plain bad people.

In comparison, China can seem like an older person who has seen it all—perhaps less inspiring, less idealistic, but also more pragmatic and more resilient, and can sometimes be surprisingly more accommodating of different opinions.

I see this paradox play out on platforms like Substack and Twitter, where I am routinely blocked by those who disagree with me (, Michael Fritzell, Wei Ling Ling, to name but a few), while I never block them. Isn’t it ironic that the self-proclaimed champions of free speech often seem unwilling to listen to differing opinions and become the very dogmatic ideologues that they claimed to attack? This isn’t an accident but a pattern: “Agree with me, and you are my friend; disagree, and you are my enemy.”

In public discourses, this self-righteousness is mildly irritating, but when it translates into real-world aggression—like the Iraq War, an action many believed was “the right thing” done with good intentions—it becomes truly dangerous, because it is extremely difficult for self-righteous people to recognise their own mistakes.

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Simone: When you think of the United States, what is the first thing that comes to your mind?

Robert: Freedom. “The land of freedom” is the first association—a society paradoxically built on the participation of people who have an absolute belief in their own liberties, where many see owning a gun as a logical solution to the horrendous problem of gun violence.

Simone: Is it correct to say that, deep down, there is also a certain fascination in China with the United States?

Robert: Oh, definitely. If you know enough Chinese people, you know that we are highly competitive, both individually and collectively. We strive, consciously and unconsciously, to emulate the best. When the US represents the best, we want to emulate it. The wider the gap between the US and China, the greater the fascination. Conversely, as the gap narrows, or potentially reverses, the fascination diminishes.

I should add that this fascination has not been reciprocal—at least not until recently, the US has never been particularly fascinated by China. But things may start to change now. The outsized reaction to Dan Wang’s Breakneck is a good sign.

Simone: What do the young people you know today think of the United States?

Robert: Please refer to the answer to the first question for details on the generational perspectives.

Simone: I know this might sound like a strange question, but what do you think of phenomena like some Chinese people who appreciate Trump (such as Zhang Hongliang)? Why is that?”

Robert: I think Chinese people who like Trump are drawn to the same qualities that appeal to his American supporters: the appearance of “no bullshit.” Previous US politicians were often skilled at saying pleasant things without saying much of substance.

Chinese people are subjected to an even denser form of political bullshit in their own media. To be sure, these bullshit political messagings (some will call it “propaganda”) serve a practical purpose, which I may write about in the future. But from a human perspective, honestly, they can be quite suffocating. So, when someone like Trump appears, breaking all conventional boundaries in speech and action, it’s natural that some find him refreshing.

Simone: It seems to me that today’s Chinese Americanists mostly interpret the China-US relationship in the light of a desire for cooperation, and not confrontation, is that correct?

Robert: If by “Americanists” you mean those who study the US, then yes, there is definitely a preference for cooperation. However, people are also realistic. There’s a growing impression that cooperation is not what the majority in the US wants with China; confrontation seems inevitable. Psychologically, it’s incredibly difficult for a sitting number one power to concede that it might not remain paramount.

That said, I don’t believe China’s goal is necessarily to become number one. China wants to be the best version of itself. If others can accept that, China will be fine. But if someone stands in its way, China is unlikely to back down either.

Simone: The essay America Against America by Wang Huning is widely discussed here. Is it still highly regarded in China today for understanding American affairs?

Robert: This is a strange paradox. The book is rarely mentioned publicly and is somewhat “censored”; you can’t easily find it except in obscure corners. This is likely because Wang is now one of the most powerful leaders in China, and matters concerning the top leadership are highly sensitive. However, among intellectuals with access to information, the book is highly regarded. Many marvel at how he could write such an incisive analysis of America based on just a six-month stay, over 30 years ago, at a time when most of his peers viewed the US with nothing but admiration.

Do you agree with the statement that the Chinese know the West better than the West knows China?”

Robert: Absolutely. I believe this is the ultimate strategic asymmetry and a key leverage point for China. If we calculate the ratio of people who understand the other side to the total population, China’s ratio is likely orders of magnitude higher than that of the US.

Consider language skills: How many Americans can speak Mandarin and read Chinese fluently? The top, top end of my estimate for this will stand at 10,000 people, or about 0.003% of the population. By contrast, the number of Chinese who can speak, read, and write English fluently is safely in the millions, perhaps 1% of the population when considering functional English speakers due to high school curricula. That’s a whopping 100 - 1000 times more people in absolute terms, and 30 times more in relative terms.1

With such a big gap in terms of understanding basic language, it’s no accident that the gap goes much deeper into other areas.

I can safely bet that 1000 times more Chinese people know what the three branches of the US government are than Americans who know what a “Politburo” is actually made of, and perhaps 10000 more Chinese know the US capital is Washington, DC, than Americans know that the capital city of China is Beijing.

Here in China, many of the commentators have a massive body of knowledge on the other side, having been educated at places like Harvard and Yale. In the US, however, you have people like Noah Smith who writes profusely about China without ever even visiting China or speaking Chinese, and his hundreds of thousands of subscribers don’t seem to find that problematic.

People like Wang Huning, nominally the 4th-most-powerful person in China right now, could have written a masterpiece about the US more than 30 years ago. Can Marco Rubio write a book about China with the same level of authority?

This is a significant, though often overlooked, advantage for China. In a situation where one side’s likelihood of misfiring is way higher than the other side's, the other side holds a huge advantage. Just why do you think Donald Trump botched his trade war with China?

*This Q&A is part of the “Mirror in the mirror” series of China Translated, where I explore the Chinese and American perceptions of the other side.

Yes, we had previous episodes of bad blood between the two countries, from the 2012/2013 Diaoyu/Senkaku dispute to the more recent nuclear waste controversy. But none of these past incidents was as politically poisonous as Takaichi’s comment on Nov. 7 regarding Taiwan:

If warships are used accompanied by the exercise of military force, then however you look at it, it could be a situation posing an survival-threatening threat to the country (Japan).

What happens afterwards has been intense information warfare from all sides. On China’s side, the Chinese consul at Osaka shocked social media with his “beheading” comment. I don’t think letting crude comments take the center stage is wise here, as it easily shifts too much of the attention towards this patronizing attitude of how overly “emotional” or “immature” China seems to be. The ensuing noise makes many people unable and unwilling to ask the simple question: just why exactly is anything happening to Taiwan a “survival-threatening” event for Japan again?

It’s a bit absurd if you consider the fact that this would imply that the Republic of China government in Taipei and Japan are military allies, and that Taiwan falls under Japan’s protection, or at least sphere of influence. It’s as if the Empire of Japan and Taiwan’s status as its overseas colony never ceased to exist.

It’s absurd also because even the US has never said this kind of thing. Never has the US officially claimed or guaranteed that it would ally with Taiwan should the war happen. But Japan has. You heard it right: Japan, represented by Takaichi, is the first one among all countries to explicitly state that a military action in Taiwan would trigger its own military response.

At least 2 reasons immediately come into my mind for China’s fierce protests against this, and it will be impossible for China to off-ramp until Takaichi, a long-term China hawk, takes down her comments.

First of all, for an issue as “core” as Taiwan, if China sits there and does nothing about the first country to speak out about its intention to engage militarily in Taiwan, there is a risk of creating a domino effect. If more countries join this, China will be cornered into some very dangerous action regarding Taiwan.

This is why I found no merit in the kind of comment cheering Takaichi’s speech as likely to deter war. To the exact opposite, her comment will only encourage war.

I told Baiguan’s members in our member-exclusive Discord channel recently that if there was a meter in my mind for the risk of war in the next 10 years in Taiwan, it just shot to somewhere at the 50% mark from perhaps the 30% mark instantly after Takaichi’s speech.

Secondly, the fact that this speech comes out of the mouth of the leader of Japan, of all people, becomes an instant spark for nationalistic sentiment in China because of obvious historical reasons. The domestic pressure on Beijing to act forcefully is dialed up to the max. It’s especially sensitive that Taiwan used to be colonized by Japan for half a century between the first and second Sino-Japanese War.

What’s adding more salt to the wounds is that Taiwan is also joining the fray. Just as China re-imposed a ban on Japanese seafood as retaliation, Lai Ching-te, the leader of Taiwan, publicly showcased that he enjoyed Japanese sushi for lunch in an obvious dig at Beijing, adding to the impression of the “soft alliance” that Takaichi is implying and that Beijing is specifically attacking.

I don’t think these are serious people. To them, the possibility of a war seems to be a matter of fun, and that the battle of memes is all there is. Like children, they can just poke their stick here and there, thinking these can mean anything.

Or perhaps neither Takaichi nor Lai is stupid. All of these dramas happen in a broader context that few people mention in the heat of meme battles: what the US is going to do.

2025 marks a crucial watershed moment when China reaches peer status with the US. As the US and China negotiate terms for a detente and the US becomes increasingly isolationist, the risk of being sidelined is acutely palpable in both Tokyo and Taipei. The strategic gambit by Takaichi-Lai is perhaps to create enough noise to remind the US of its perceived obligations in East Asia and to drag the US back in.

It’s a calculated, but highly risky move. It’s getting riskier by the day as the Trump Administration stays notably silent about the whole thing amid all the rancor. Trump, Rubio, Vance - none of them spoke a word.

This radio silence would only add to Takaichi and Lai’s suspicion and may push them to double down on their gambit, which would only lead China to escalate further.

Brace for more troubles ahead.

Each year, around the anniversary, I would update the Master Plan. (I will also do a reader Q&A with you. The latest Q&A was just published a few days ago.)

If there is any unwritten topic below that particularly interests you, please comment below to nominate it. I shall prioritize writing the most upvoted topics.

The Master Plan

Part #1 deals with China’s deep cultural genetics, especially those parts that are different from those of the Western world. Those cultural differences are responsible for a majority of misunderstandings between China and the West.

Part #2 concerns specific manifestations of those cultural differences in politics, economics, businesses, geopolitics, and general social affairs.

Part #3 is my subjective beliefs, value judgments, and recurring themes that my newsletter keeps revisiting.

Part #4 is lighter stuff, such as observations of contemporary youth culture.

Part #5 includes my key writings about non-China topics.

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#1 Collective psyche, national character

China’s lack of appetite for “insecure expansion”

How culture, shaped by history and geography, has conditioned the Chinese nation into an inward-looking power, unable and unwilling to expand beyond its particular corner for more than 3 millennia. Therefore, it is not a warlike culture, which, along with many other checks, makes it extremely unlikely for China to expand beyond Taiwan.

One big reason for the West to doubt China’s peaceful intentions is that the West confuses China’s domestic politics with international relations and projects its own fear of an authoritarian system in understanding China’s foreign intentions.

The role of history in today’s China

You would not understand China if you couldn’t imagine a 3,000-year-long memory. No decisions are made without reference to our long history. Lightly touched upon here. One related essay in 2025 was about the role of this so-called “Century of Humiliation”.

China is not able to imagine God or God-like constructs & China is not interested in preaching

Different religious traditions between China and the West would be powerful in explaining much of the misunderstanding in dealings between Chinese and Western people, businesses, and, of course, nations. Lightly touched upon here and here.

China’s “low-trust” society

Chinese people do not trust each other, which affects everything from our business dealings to the choice of government (TBP).

In recent years, technology has helped society achieve a higher level of trust.

Imagining the perfect “scholar-official”

Explaining a Confucian imagination that has shaped the core of our expectations of the ruling class, while also shaping the ruling class’s expectations of themselves. (TBP)

#2 Politics, Geopolitics, Power, Money

China’s schizophrenia problem

Part 1: There are “two Chinas”. One is a small minority of very vocal liberalists, another is a large minority of fairly silent traditionalists. Above them is a patriarch who struggles to balance between the two sides. Understanding this key fact is crucial to understanding contemporary Chinese society and policy-making.

Part 2: Shifting economic structures may ultimately tilt the balance between the “two Chinas”.

The Communist Party of China

• "I am against the CCP, not against the Chinese people" - How meaningful is this idea?

• Hanlon’s China Razor: “Never attribute to malice (of the Communist Party of China) that which is adequately explained by stupidity.” Lack of skills is often to blame for many policy failures, such as in expectation management.

• The CPC is one gigantic corporation.

Fear of 乱Chaos

• Fear of chaos is the single most important driving force behind China’s politics.

• Also referred to here, when discussing the rising wave of violent crimes in 2023-2024.

China and Democracy

Very briefly touched upon here. A more fleshed-out version is TBP.

Power succession

This is my single biggest fear about the so-called “China model”. TBP.

Central-local government relationship

This may be the most important vector for understanding China’s political economy that the outside world regularly overlooks, because the outside world has no experience of what it is like to run a massive country with a unitary bureaucracy.

Very briefly mentioned here when discussing the 20-3 Plenum. A more fleshed-out version is TBP.

Government-business relationship & industry policy

• This is touched upon in the essay How can China really boost business confidence?

• A case study of DeepSeek.

• What gave rise to the rise of China’s EV sector, and what the US really should do to compete with China’s rise.

• What really brought down Jack Ma’s “downfall”?

Censorship

Why China would censor prominent influencers seemingly unrelated to politics.

Transitioning towards a consumer-centered, people-centered, and capital-market-centered economy

The most fundamental shift for the Chinese economy in the next 2-3 decades, in my eyes, is this transition from a land-financed-based and real-estate-centered model to a consumer-centered, people-centered, and capital-market-centered economy.

This is the trend I observed as my key takeaway from the 20-3 Plenum. Another upshot from this trend is the growing importance of the capital market.

Despite many blunders, the Chinese authorities are gradually learning from the rules of the capital market, such as during the online gaming regulation fiasco, and the several successful and failed ministerial press conferences in the Autumn of 2024.

Can China Innovate?

I argued that China has two basic prerequisites for innovation: 1) there are enough problems to innovate on, and 2) there is the willpower to solve problems.

In this post at Baiguan, I correctly predicted that China would catch up with US in terms of AI technology. But catching up is what China is good at right now. Doing 0-1 innovation is still quite difficult, for simple social and psychological reasons. But neither does China have to do 0-1 innovation.

Hong Kong

Part 1: Why is the narrative that Hong Kong is over post-NSL far overblown?

Part 2: What should Hong Kong really do to reclaim its rightful destiny?

Taiwan

TBP

Sino-Japan relations

This essay contextualizes China’s “Japan hate”. I might write more in the future.

Border disputes

Briefly touched upon here. A more fleshed-out version is TBP.

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#3 Other recurring themes

The mirroring effect

Much of the West’s misunderstandings of China occur because the West projects its own image, fears, and aspirations onto China. For instance:

One of the biggest cognitive errors that outsiders make when looking at China is to project their own fear of a totalitarian system onto China. Because of this error, they tend to believe everything in China is because the Chinese government does this, or the communist party does that, and the discussions only stay at that level.

Other areas of such “projection errors” include: assuming China likes to proselytize and preach to others about a particular way of life, and assuming that there is a natural tension between the Chinese state and the Chinese people.

When I discussed that many Western intellectuals seem to assume China would be an externally aggressive power because China has an authoritarian system, I wrote:

In the case of China, our system is authoritarian (or patriarchal), but decidedly not expansionist. Sometimes, I think the Western intellgentsia has often projected their own worst fear - the fear total loss of liberty under an authoritarian system - onto China to extrapolate that China will extend its not-so-inspiring governance model to other people. In fact, we worry too much about internal disorders to care about others, and we are not interested in converting others into our way of life at all. (There was projection of another kind of fear, a fear of other people repeating the same crimes Western predecessors did. They assumed that since the West rose through colonialism and plunder, then China probably will repeat the same path.)

When discussing why China would refrain from meddling in the Israel-Iran War, I wrote:

China is neither plotting to take over the world, nor does it care about claiming some kind of leadership role. For those of you who believe otherwise, I find that you are often projecting yourself onto understanding China. You are only looking at yourself in the mirror here.

When talking about “Century of Humiliation”, I find most of its advocates are looking into the mirror again. Behind the repeated chanting of this term, I can sense a genuine fear that China may use history as an excuse to demand reparations.

To further explore this “mirroring effect”, I now have a whole column dedicated to it.

Three fundamental pillars of modern China

There are 3 fundamental pillars of modern Chinese society: market economy, socialism, and Confucian ethics. These pillars will remain standing for a long, long time. (TBP)

Cycles

China exists through cycles. Bad news and good news often happen in tandem. Without bad news, there may be no good news. The worse the bad news, the more likely you will see the good news. (here, here)

The people factor

Western commentators often fail to account for the “people factor”. The rise and fall of a nation ultimately depends on the sum of hard work, creativity, and hunger for success of all its people, not any specific political system or policy.

Even the Party cannot fight but can only ride the tide of history. Market forces, voluntary choices by the people and historical serendipity form the foundation of economic development. A purely state-controlled model can never work. (link)

One thing they fail to realize is that they deprive the agency of the people in China. Where do Chinese people come in for all of these discussions? No one bothers to ask. It seems some autocrats give out some subsidies here, appropriating some technology there, and a fantastic, globally competitive industry just miraculously comes into being. So, ironically, in all of these discussions made by commentators from supposedly democratic systems, it’s the people that they always fail to mention. (link)

Also, people are the final frontier of US-China competition.

Xi

Is Xi Jinping a dictator?

At most, a top Chinese leader is someone with a strong power to set agenda - deciding what to decide and when to decide - based on reading of the collective will of various stakeholders, but not someone who can simply decide everything for everyone - like a dictator.

Can a Chinese person criticize Xi Jinping?

So there are 2 factors to consider here. Whether this is a public vs. private criticism, and whether it’s a criticism of Xi as the representative of China’s political system vs. criticism of Xi’s specific policies.

The “multi-generations under the same roof” theory:

This also points to one of the key difficulties in understanding China that I talked about many times: because China’s modernization has happened so fast, too many very different generations are crammed into the space of less than a century. For example, my grandparents’ generation was born in a countryside whose cultural contours were not much different from the Qing Dynasty’s peasantry. my parents’ generation was born into Maoist poverty. My generation was arguably the nexus between the generations older and younger, and we sort-of have a taste of everything. We played video games as children, but witnessed the attitudes and ways of life of all previous generations. Now is when the 00s, who grew up with smartphones and social media, came into adulthood. But the fact is, all of these very different generations co-exist under the same roof. (link)

Experimentalism and gradualism in China’s politics

Usually, the government doesn’t initiate anything from scratch. It prefers to adopt a wait-and-see attitude. If something works, it just creates policies to double down and make it faster. (Link)

The “pendulum effect”

• China’s swinging pendulum: is it a feature, or a bug?

#4 Youth, Culture, Life

• The end of Chinese modesty: What do China’s Gen-Z Olympian athletes mean for our future

• Wukong & the cool part of China

• How a “boring” TV drama becomes so successful and what it shows about today’s China

• Seismic changes in China’s consumer psychology (shown by an epic CEO vs KOL battle)

• My experience of working with a Substack run by a Chinese state media employee

#5 Non-China writings

• The end of West’s ideological monotony: A journey of double political awakenings of a young Chinese

• 3 principles for a small country to survive great-power competition (Part 1 & 2)

• Do weak powers have no diplomacy? Or is diplomacy their only play?

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Before I start, I would like to remind you that a week ago I published the following article evaluating to what extent we are in an AI bubble at , a new newsletter currently at trial stage where I put ideas into investment action, and is not just limited to China. Hope you enjoy:

Robert Wu's Portfolio

We are already in a big AI bubble, but 2 errors stop us from realizing it

With the value of global capital markets concentrated in the US, and US equity markets heavily concentrated in the Magnificent 7, it is quite clear that the single most important factor driving equities today is AI, and the single most important question for the market today is whether we are living through a big AI bubble, and if so, how and when this …

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7 months ago · 35 likes · 7 comments · Robert Wu

With that said, let’s begin the Q&A.

Q: After electric cars and solar, which next cutting-edge technologies do you expect China to take the lead on?

First thing has come to my mind is biotech. Chinese companies have demonstrated a clear advantage in biotech, which is on track to repeat the same EV experience in the next few years. It’s highly likely that 3 years from now, the world will have a full reckoning that so much innovation in drug discovery is happening in China, the same feeling that people now have about EVs. This is what Morgan Stanley has to say about this topic.

For truly unique and groundbreaking innovation, China is betting heavily on commercial nuclear fusion. This year, China has even established a new state-owned enterprise dedicated to this area. We are still far away from commercially viable nuclear fusion, but if any country in the world is able to win this holy grail, it must be China, due to its strong engineering base and the unique ability to marshal society-wide resources into strategic projects.

If China can achieve this, it will not only definitively put aside the debate about whether China can do “real innovation” but also achieve something truly historic for mankind.

Q: Which countries are your readers from? I ask because I see so much written with the American reader in mind. Even Canadians who write for a living write for an American audience. I think that is a detriment, because people read just an American perspective … How did you find Substack? Maybe you chose this because you exactly wanted to connect with American readers?

A: This is the distribution of China Translated’s readers:

It’s true that US readers make the largest bloc, at 32%. This is understandable since Substack is a US app. All English-speaking countries and territories make up ~60%. Non-Anglo Europe accounts for around 20%. There are also a sizable number of readers from India and Brazil. Overall, I believe my readership profile is quite balanced, and I don’t see myself specifically writing to an American audience.

A core reader bloc consists of overseas Chinese people, mostly second- and third-generation immigrants from Singapore, Malaysia, the US, Thailand, Indonesia, Canada, Australia, and even Mexico. I speculate that this bloc accounts for at least 20% of all readers, but they tend to be the most committed, so that they make up perhaps around 50% of paying subscribers (the same also holds true for Baiguan).

I think this totally makes sense. For the overseas Chinese community, China is familiar and strange at the same time. Similar cultural upbringing has conditioned them well to appreciate the deeper logic behind many phenomena, so China becomes a relatively easier subject for them than, say, Americans. Still, their home countries are very different from China, so they also struggle to make sense here and there. Being ethnic Chinese also makes them curious about what’s going on in China. All of these mean that they have a strong demand to understand, yet the number of trustworthy sources out there for them is not many. I suppose that’s why they have found me.

Q: What would be your take on these accounts of the dramatic Tiananmen Square events in 1989?

Ahh… This is a tough one.

Tiananmen was such a controversial event that, over the years, its life as a political symbol has continued to grow. Although I was born after that, it was also a “visceral” experience for me. The first time I learned about it also marked “the first pivot” of my political awakening, which I documented well in this article.

My overall assessment of the event has progressed from shock, to anger, to understanding, and finally to a very complicated feeling now. It’s one of those subjects that I would one day want to write about in a more fully fleshed-out way. However, before that, I highly recommend watching the documentary "The Gate of Heavenly Peace." This is the most balanced piece of work out there I have ever seen on this subject, and a must-watch for anyone who wants to form an opinion on this issue.

For my own opinions, let me just share several key takes that are less frequently talked about in the general discourses:

1. The events in 1989 were not limited to Beijing. Almost all of China's major cities saw large protests. Many people from my parents’ generation joined those “protests” from all over China. My mother didn’t even think it was a protest, but rather like joining a festival. So it was not just any protest. It was a nationwide mass movement that demanded an answer in one form or another.

2. Most people tend to overlook the fact that, at the core of this event, was a significant power struggle at the top. Just as the Cultural Revolution was a power struggle at the core, with Mao rallying the masses outside to smash his adversaries, the events in 1989 could also well turn into a palace coup with strong popular support from the outside. In fact, the power struggle aspect of the event was what kept the protests alive for more than 2 months. Protestors knew that there was indecisiveness and internal differences inside Zhongnanhai, and the protests dragged on way beyond the point where they could be resolved peacefully.

3. Had the protestors succeeded, it would be certain that the student leaders would join the upper echelon of China’s power structure. However, considering their demeanors during the protests, I am extremely doubtful that they can handle this well. They were college kids with lofty dreams and big ideas learned from Western books. In that regard, these students were not so different from the elders that they sought to topple, who were also once Western-inspired students as well, agitating for a revolution 70 years prior, before they themselves were hardened by decades of war and struggles. So, if these kids had their way, I don’t think they would be able to govern a vast country with a GDP per capita of only $311 at the time and a population that mostly had zero inkling of an idea of what democracy means. They would quickly lose control. In the ensuing chaos, something far worse, such as a military dictatorship, could emerge from the cracks.

I don’t deny that I am also traumatized by the human costs of that event. But if you do enough research from all sides and thinking about it, by June of that year, if things hadn’t developed in the ghastly way they eventually did, the best-case scenario I could imagine is that China would become what Russia is today. I will leave you to decide which one is more preferable. I believe you already know my answers.

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Q: How does the work culture in the Chinese work environments you can speak about compare to the American work culture described in the comments section here?

A: Historically, hard work and extreme hard work are cherished. Such as the infamous “996” culture. However, in recent years, a growing backlash has emerged against this. Despite this change, I still believe Chinese people are comparatively more workaholic than most other peoples. The whole concept of “involution” wouldn’t be a subject of controversy if it ceases to exist.

Q: You wrote that “Using a VPN is illegal in China”. Would you please cite the relevant section of the criminal code and which section or article it comes under? Here’s the link to the Criminal Code in English:

A: Illegal doesn’t necessarily mean “criminal” in China. A criminal conviction can lead to imprisonment and more severe penalties. However, many illegal actions may only lead to monetary fines, and sometimes only a warning.

Using a VPN falls under that category.

You may refer to “中华人民共和国计算机信息网络国际联网管理暂行规定Interim Regulations of the People’s Republic of China on the Management of International Networking of Computer Information Networks”:

Section 6: Computer information networks that directly connect to international networks must use the international channels provided by the state public telecommunications network. No unit or individual may establish or use other channels for international networking.

Section 14 also specifies that breaching of Section 6 can lead to:

The public security organ shall order the termination of networking, issue a warning, and may concurrently impose a fine of not more than 15,000 yuan.

Q: For a good while, it used to be the case that the Chinese were more materialistic rather than idealistic or spiritual. But, the young generations tend to perceive a need for more spirituality. And, meanwhile, China proved rather outstanding in systematic studies, in sciences. My question is: How do the Chinese stand regarding scientific studies that suggest the existence of a spiritual domain? Viz., studies of Chi Gong, of ‘distance healing,’ and “near-death experiences.” Can you go to WeChat, enter a bookstore or a library, and find works on those topics? How much public interest there is for those fields?

A. The interest in the mystic is huge and has always been huge. This is always the deep undercurrent in China that few people can see and quantify exactly. You will be surprised by the number of highly educated people who are into fortune-telling. I am also quite interested in these kinds of topics, but I am approaching them more as a skeptic. You probably don’t know yet, but I have “secretly” opened a newsletter about this almost a year ago, called . So far, I have written only one essay, about one mystic experience, but you may expect me to be more serious about this newsletter, perhaps when I get older and have more free time.

Q: Mencius: “There are three things which are unfilial, and to have no posterity is the greatest of them.” (Mn. 4A.26). Among the current generations of Chinese, does failure to have descendants cause a sense of guilt? If so, in what percentage of childless people, and to what degree?

A: That sense of guilt is rapidly diminishing in contemporary China. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have such a significant drop-off in the birth rate.

Q: My impression, which could be mistaken, is that Chinese manufacturing is pretty efficient and advanced, and while not necessarily the best or most efficient in every category of manufacturing, not too far away. However, when it comes to services, my impression is that China is generally much less efficient and productive than the US. First, does that seem accurate? And secondly, if that is accurate, what’s your opinion on why productivity lags in China’s service sector?

A: It’s not a matter of efficiency, but a difference of perceived value and story-telling. Services are all about trust. Western societies are mature in the modern era, so naturally their services are perceived to be of higher value. Just think of the Big 4 accounting firms, and think about which Chinese audit firm that can come to your mind who can rival the Big 4. Or think of McKinsey, and then think about which Chinese consulting firms come to your mind. I doubt any names come into your mind.

It’s not that Chinese audit firms or consulting companies are not as good, but when people pay for McKinsey or KPMG’s services, it’s not just the “services” per se they are looking for, but also the fact that this is done by McKinsey. That logo itself carries a lot of value, even most of the value.

In the professional data and information industry I operate in, there are also similar issues which make this industry in China a tiny fraction of what it is in the West. I keep a separate niche newsletter about this called . In case you are interested, below is the first essay of that newsletter:

Data Currency

#1 One of very few Chinese industries that is still ~1/100 of the West

Welcome to the inaugural essay of Paid Sub, a newsletter on the market intelligence, Data-as-a-service, professional knowledge, and paid content industry in China…

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a year ago · 25 likes · 1 comment · Robert Wu

Another major service industry, and perhaps the largest service industry, is healthcare. But here, it may just be the opposite. China’s healthcare industry is all about efficiency. In fact, perhaps because it is “too efficient”, its total GDP is nothing compared with the bloated US healthcare system.

Q: There is a lot of talk about purges in the PLA. Having family who’ve served in various nations’ military I’m aware of what a purge means there, which usually is the general being “fired” from his current assignment, given a pleasant job until the relevant MIC-IMATT figures out how they can use him to funnel more money their way in another position. In other words a purge is rarely a moment where criminal activities are punished by severe actions. What happens in the PLA when a group of generals are purged? Is it usually fatal to career, if not life?

A: In China, “purge” usually leads to various degrees of punishment, from imprisonment down to demotion to an extremely lowly rank, and is usually fatal to career. Death penalties are extremely rare though nowadays.

In a high-profile “purge” not related to the PLA, Qin Gang, who has been our Foreign Minsiter for a few months in 2023 before his “purge”, has reappeared again recently, showing not only he is alive and well but it’s possible his career may still have a future.

Q: Which of your subjects gets the most interest from readers?

A: I think you can have a rough sense from a look at the ranking of my most popular essays. Most of these articles focus on “narratives” and deep cultural barriers that lead to cognitive errors when viewing China. I call this type of content “mirror in a mirror” and have a whole tag dedicated to it now. One recent surprise is the article Breakneck, the big parade, and mirrors in mirrors, which falls along this line.

Q: Maybe you can write a post about foreigners studying in Chinese universities. For example, what would it entail to try applying to Tsinghua University with only English as a language and then studying there?

A: That could well be a future trend, as China’s universities have become increasingly more competitive globally.

Last week, as part of Baiguan’s first China Tour, we got to visit West Lake University in Hangzhou, one of the few new so-called privately funded research universities in China. They have many international students and faculty members already. We are really impressed. We will write about them in an upcoming post.

Q: How do you get the time to write? You have your own business and life, maybe even young children to raise. I used to have a blog, and it took a lot of effort. With children and now in a foreign country, I know this is so hard to find time.

A: I spent about 20% of my waking time writing. A lot of it happens in my spare time, such as traveling on the road, during weekends, or between business meetings. For me, the most energy-consuming part is to figure out the general structure and flow of my piece. Once that skeleton is ready, filling in the flesh is just a matter of time.

Another helpful device is that when I inevitably write something on social media, I am conscious that parts and bits of it can also be added to my longer piece. For instance, we organize a Discord community for paying subscribers of Baiguan, and I comment quite often in that community, usually responding to members’ questions. When I write there, I am always mindful that some of the writings may be expanded into a full essay. A lot of my essays come from this way. In a sense, I view social media as a testing ground for more structured works.

It’s also worth noting that I enjoy writing. Writing is my way of clearing out my thoughts and putting them into something concrete. Writing is my way of thinking. I view writing as a form of leisure, not labor.

Lastly, although I am busy with work, I don’t have kids yet. Perhaps when I have kids, things will change. We will see.

Q: An Asia Times article from Dec 4, 2023. reports that spitting, loud throat clearing and smoking have vanished from the streets of Beijing. Can you or anyone you know tell us more about it? Are these changes lasting? And, for them to happen, who did what?

A: If 20 years ago these uncivilized behaviors happened at the frequency of a 10, then at least in major cities, it stands at perhaps 2-3 at the moment. Not really vanished, but significantly less frequent than before. Smoking is still quite a problem, but in cities like Shanghai, no-smoking-indoor policies, which were only introduced a few years ago, have been well-enforced.

I think this transition to more civility is just inevitable, as China transitioned from a rural society to an urban one. You have to remember, spitting, throat clearing or smoking as you wish won’t be a problem at all if you live in a village, plowing your own fields.

Q: As a CEO of a Chinese startup, if you were to start going to your workplace by bicycle, how do you expect your colleagues, your employees, and business partners would react to it? And, would it make a difference if the bike is ordinary (mechanical) or an e-bike?

A: There won’t be much of a reaction. This is considered normal. There is no protocol on how a CEO should travel here. Maybe if my company is just not big enough. If I am a Fortune 500 CEO and bike to the office, I still don’t think people will be surprised. China has a long history of cycling. And nowadays, outdoor sports are also quite in fashion.

Maybe riding an e-bike to work for a CEO is slightly weird.

Immediately after the Bund Summit, we started Baiguan’s first China tour, bringing more than a dozen investors and business leaders from Asia, US and Europe through a 4-day tour of large and small Chinese companies in consumer and deep tech industries, meeting with local founders and senior managers. Our team will share many of our takeaways from this tour next week in the Baiguan newsletter.

The participants in the China tour are impressed by various kinds of progress that Chinese companies have been making, but they are not without concerns. One prominent question touched on an especially binary risk. A European investor, badly burned by the Russian experience, asked several times during the trip: Can and will the US shut China off the US dollar system? How can we prepare for such a risk?

In fact, at this year’s Bund Summit, one prominent economist also asked exactly the same question during a VIP session, and he provided quite a convincing answer.

I will not name him but refer to him simply as the Economist here, and I will summarize his key logic for you in this essay.

While I was busy meeting people, big meetings were taking place on the world stage. Top trade officials from the US and China (which, of course, included Mr. Li Chenggang) met in Kuala Lumpur, followed by the much-anticipated meeting between Xi and Trump in Busan, South Korea.

By now, it’s safe to say that the 7-month-long US-China trade war has come to a full pause. Both sides have shown their cards. And although it’s debatable if China has emerged as a victor, there is no doubt that the US is the loser, so much so that I find myself strangely agreeing with , someone I normally would not agree with on virtually anything else.

Tariff

On the tariff front, China stood her ground. Not only did the 100% tariff hike threatened by Trump evaporate almost immediately after it was announced, but China also had a 10% further reduction in the “fentanyl tariff”. With a combined tariff rate of around 47%, China’s exports to the US are now as competitive as those of other parts of the world, and in some cases even more competitive, such as when compared with India and Brazil.

What’s more important is that half a year of these US tariffs hasn’t meaningfully hurt China’s exports at all. Why? The Economist believed that the key reason is that, in the seven years since the first trade war, China’s businesses have already built up a sophisticated global supply chain. This is not about transhipment, but genuine production and assembly in third-party countries, utilizing upstream materials and components sourced from China.

The Economist pointed out that the US wants 3 impossible things at the same time: high growth, low inflation and reducing trade deficit. If the US wants high growth while reducing trade deficit, there will be high inflation. If the US wants low inflation while reducing trade deficit, some kind of recession must happen.

Since growth and inflation are more important, the US has to make sacrifices on the trade deficit, at least for now. This ensures that, according to the Economist, there will always be TACO.

Export control

Another important aspect of trade wars is the export control on key supply chains. Here, the tables have completely turned. After the Kuala Lumpur-Busan talks, the US agreed to delay the so-called “BIS 50% rule” by one year, in exchange for China to delay the implementation of its rare earth export control as well.

October marked the first time China played the rare earth card against the US. And China has played this well. No longer is it a one-sided battle with only China suffering. Now, for the first time, the US has also realized that it could also be vulnerable.

The US and China now have a stranglehold on each other, but the pains are asymmetrical. For China, the expectation of restrictions on its technology has persisted for at least seven years. However, the US has only just begun to realize it. However, at least a few years will pass from realizing the problem to solving it. And by that time, China will hopefully have made significant progress as well.

What’s aiding this asymmetry is that China now apparently doesn’t seem keen on purchasing Nvidia’s high-end chips, showing preparedness and determination to finally break free.

All of this asymmetry, according to the Economist, ensures that US tech export control will not be an effective weapon in the near future.

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Financial sanctions?

Given that both tariff and export control measures have been defanged from the US, it is just natural that the imagery and wording from the Busan meeting marked the first time China has been recognised by its counterparty as a real peer.

But what about the financial sanctions? The Economist believes that this is the only important weapon left in the US arsenal. So far, the US side has refrained from using it. But will it ever use it?

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I am also glad to share that at this very moment, my subscriber list has just broken the 6,000 mark. For a personal newsletter that I can’t yet commit to a fixed schedule for, I consider this not bad.

But I am also keenly aware that all of this won’t happen without your continued support! My gratitude is especially extended to the 95 of you who are paying for my work, and the 170 of you who paid for Baiguan and took the trouble to ask me for the complimentary access that I promised. (If you are a paying subscriber of Baiguan but don’t have the comp access here yet, make sure to send me a private message.)

For this anniversary, I will do the same two things that I did for the last one, and probably for every anniversary in the future.

First, in a few weeks, I will update my Master Plan to incorporate the latest highlights (the linked version is not updated yet, but you can take a look if you haven’t.)

Second, as many of you know, this is a moment to ask me anything! What do you want to know more about me? What do you need me to elaborate on? What do you think I am wrong about? Just ask me anything! I will try my very best to entertain your questions, even sensitive ones. In fact, my last year’s answer post turned out to be one of my most popular posts yet. I will consolidate my answers in a future post.

How to ask me? If you read this from your email, just reply to the email with your questions. If you read from the Substack App or china-translated.com, just leave your questions in the comment section.

I am also glad that this year has witnessed me branching out into more niche newsletters. And if you haven’t already, subscribe to

• Robert Wu’s Portfolio, to see how I put my beliefs into investment action

• , to follow the professional data, information, and research industry in Asia that I am part of

• , a newsletter straight from China’s most prominent economic think tank that we at Baiguan helped manage

At last, let me share again what I think is my proudest work in the last 12 months:

• The series on China’s low-trust society (or is it rapidly transitioning into a high-trust society now?)

• Sharing my unique experience as an early co-founder of Ginger River Review, a newsletter founded by a state media employee

• Consolidating all my discussions about the US-China power struggle into my own phrase: The Great Divorce. (And of course, my own experience of writing an opinion piece in the New York Times bashing Trump at the height of the tariff war.)

• Why the usual “I am against the CCP but not against Chinese people” refrain is not that meaningful

• My discussion of the “Century of Humiliation” narrative

• Revisiting my old argument against Noah Smith, that China is comparatively not warlike (Part 4, Part 5, Q&A)

• Reviewing what really brought down Jack Ma (before his revival, of course)

• What I think was the most dangerous moment in China’s recent history that few people talked about: the possibility of siding with Nazi Germany.

• This one was written at Baiguan, where I shared my key reasoning for a decade-long bull market in China.

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That’s it for today. let me say it once again: ASK ME ANYTHING!

Last Friday, not long after China put up an American-style export control regime on critical metals, Donald Trump responded with a long and melodramatic Truth Social post that once again wiped out hundreds of billions of value in one stroke.

Trump accused China of “becoming very hostile” and of essentially making him lose face while he should be celebrated for brokering the peace in the Middle East after “three thousand years of bedlam and fighting”. Like a lover who felt betrayed, he said he would have no reason to meet Xi at the coming APEC Summit in Seoul.

Soon, in another post, he threatened that he would impose an additional 100% tariff. But ostensibly, this new tariff would only be effective after the APEC Summit. At a press briefing immediately after that post, Trump seemed to have already softened the stance. “I’m going to be there regardless, so I would assume we might have it.”

TACO again?

Almost at the same time, a report from CNN emerged, which included an interesting piece of detail:

…But there are also private frustrations at the White House after the US Commerce Department expanded the number of Chinese firms on an export controls backlist late last month that could have frustrated China, sources said.

This insider tip, and the fact that it exists at all in the public domain, seems to suggest that Trump has also started to realise that China was only retaliating, not escalating.

It also seemed to confirm the storyline that Chairman Rabbit, the well-connected Chinese influencer/commentator, wrote about last weekend. Chairman Rabbit speculated that a number of new US trade policies and sanctions in September angered the Chinese side, but Trump didn’t seem to realize the severity of it. One plausible reason was that Trump was busy with other matters lately, including the peace talks in the Middle East and a new federal government shutdown. The Chinese side decided that in order to put their frustrations on the table, they would have to retaliate, and only afterwards would Trump get the message.

Then, in the middle of the week, Scott Bessent raised eyebrows with his remarks describing Li Chenggang, China’s lead trade negotiator, as “unhinged” and “going rogue.” It’s not every day that high-stakes negotiations between major powers descend into personal attacks. Perhaps Bessent believed that by singling out one Chinese official, the U.S. could create a scapegoat—someone Beijing could later dismiss or sideline, giving both sides a pretext to restart talks? If so, it was a naïve miscalculation, while the tone and reaction from the Bessent gave off a strong impression that Washington might be running out of options.

And out of options they are. Finally, on Friday, Donald Trump said that he planned to meet with Chinese President Xi Jinping in South Korea in two weeks and suggested that imposing an additional 100% tariff on all Chinese goods appeared infeasible.

TACO again.

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Almost simultaneously, another story was unfolding in Europe. On September 30, 2025, the Dutch government invoked a rarely-used emergency law—the Goods Availability Act—to take effective control of Nijmegen-headquartered chip manufacturer Nexperia, a subsidiary of China’s Wingtech Technology, which acquired Nexperia a few years ago for $3.6 billion.

The highly exceptional move was prompted by “serious governance shortcomings” at the company that the government stated posed a risk to Dutch and European economic security by threatening the continuity and safeguarding of crucial technological knowledge.

The details are still emerging, but from what I can gather, it does seem Nexperia under Wingtech was engaged in some dodgy corporate governance practices. But let’s be honest here. No amount of dodginess warrants a drastic takeover by government authorities. Even the Chinese government won’t do this kind of thing today. If the Chinese government seized a foreign business simply because of suspicion of corporate mismanagement, just imagine the uproar!

From stories as reported by the Dutch media, as well as from the Chinese side, we start to see a common thread: The Dutch government had long wanted Wingtech to cede substantial control of Nexperia, in order to protect the Netherlands’ domestic semiconductor base from being trapped in the U.S.–China power struggle.

The sequence of events is crucial here. Among the many new U.S. trade restrictions on China announced in September, which triggered Beijing’s recent retaliation, the most notable one was the so-called “50% rule.” Under this rule, Nexperia, as a subsidiary controlled by Wingtech, would automatically fall under U.S. sanctions because Wingtech itself was listed on US BIS’ Entity List. On the very next day after the 50% rule was announced, the Dutch government moved to seize control of the company. The motive—to shield itself from the crossfire of the U.S.–China trade dispute—could not have been clearer, and when forced to choose between the U.S. and China, the Dutch chose the U.S., while sacrificing Chinese interests in the process.

Wingtech’s main sin is that it’s Chinese. What the Nexperia case has demonstrated is that the fact of being Chinese itself has become a risk factor in doing business in Europe. As a Chinese businessperson myself, this feels both troubling and disheartening.

This raises a fundamental question for the Dutch government—and for Europe as a whole: what exactly do you want from China?

Europe needs industrial revival, infrastructure renewal, and investment. To achieve these goals, Europe needs foreign capital and know-how—and few countries can offer both as abundantly as China can. Yet the Nexperia case suggests that Europe may not actually welcome Chinese investment at all. If that’s true, who will fill the gap? Does Europe believe Donald Trump—or any U.S. administration—would commit to a “Marshall Plan 2.0” to make Europe great again?

And if Chinese investment is not welcomed, European officials should shut their mouths next time about accusing China of “over-capacity” and “trade imbalances”. After all, what’s a better way to resolve these issues than allowing more Chinese companies to invest in Europe?

If Europe is still open to Chinese investments, then some major clarification is needed to restore confidence.

It is worth noting that Nexperia was not commonly considered a core strategic asset. When it was sold to Chinese investors, both the seller and the regulator knew it was a low-end business of NXP, and they got a great deal from Wingtech. After all, Nexperia is no ASML or Airbus, the kind of truly core European strategic assets that nobody would imagine the Chinese investors would ever be allowed to buy.

So where is the line? If one day CATL or BYD are added to the US’s whichever restriction lists (not entirely unlikely), do the massive plants that they have built or will be building also face the risk of seizure? Unless that line is clarified, Chinese investors—from industrial giants like CATL, down to small and medium-sized businesses—will be extremely cautious about investing in Europe. And that would be Europe’s loss.

Key points across these announcements include:

• Announcement 55: superhard materials-related items, effective Nov 8, 2025

• Announcement 56: some rare earth equipment, raw materials, and related items, effective Nov 8, 2025

• Announcement 57: medium- and heavy-rare-earth related items, effective Nov 8, 2025

• Announcement 58: lithium batteries and artificial graphite anode materials, effective Nov 8, 2025

• Announcement 61: rare earth-related items, effective Dec 1, 2025

• Announcement 62: rare earth–related technologies, effective immediately.

The full translation can be found here by .

The surprising move naturally leads to a score of questions: Is it an escalation on the part of China? Or is it just matching similar US restrictions? Is it just raising the stakes in the ongoing US-China “Big Deal”, a proverbial stick as in “carrots and sticks”, or just a unilateral move to piss the US off?

[My initial take on this is behind the paywall. If you are a paying subscriber of Baiguan, you can contact me for a complimentary access.]

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