On the evening of October 1st, National Day and the start of a week-long holiday, Nanchang was celebrating with a spectacular fireworks/drone show, drawing an enormous crowd of people (see video).

But the fireworks weren’t the only thing drawing attention. One man on Nanchang’s crowded Shimao Road caught bystanders’ eyes.

He was shirtless, strongly built with a visible tattoo, and was waving a pointed object while loudly shouting something that sounded like, “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

At first, the people around him seemed unsure of what to do, keeping their distance and too afraid to approach. A large crowd formed but stayed back.

Then, a brave young man in red rushed forward and snatched the pointed object from his hand, while another young man leapt in with a flying kick that knocked him to the ground.

Several others then joined in, working together to restrain the man, as onlookers surrounded the scene and held him there until police arrived and took him to the station.

Soon, videos of the incident spread online (see video here), and rumors quickly surfaced that the man had been trying to attack people with a knife.

But that all turned out to be one major misunderstanding.

The next day, local police clarified what had actually happened, followed by an explanation from the man himself.

The man in question, a 31-year-old local second-hand car dealer named Li, had come to see the fireworks together with his family, including his sisters and three nephews.

Because of the very hot weather, he had taken off his shirt and was cooling himself with a 10-yuan folding fan he had just bought along the way.

After the show, while walking back, Li realized one of his nephews was missing and searched for him, calling out in his local dialect: “Where’s my kid? Where’s my kid?” (“我崽尼 我崽尼” wǒ zǎi ní).

Bystanders misheard this as “我宰你 我宰你” (wǒ zǎi nǐ, wǒ zǎi nǐ, “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you”) and mistook his folding fan for a machete.

Meanwhile, Li couldn’t understand why people around him were avoiding him and keeping their distance from him while he was searching for his nephew (see that moment here, also see more footage here). People were watching him, and recording the scene from a distance.

Before Li realized what was happening, the fan was snatched from his hands and he was violently kicked. A crowd swarmed him, beat him, and pushed him to the ground.

The police then detained him, and it wasn’t until the early hours of October 2, after thorough questioning, that he was finally released.

“I’m still confused about it,” Li said the next day. Holding the fan up to the camera, he asked: “Can a fan like this really scare people? I don’t understand — I just got beaten for nothing.”

Mr Li in his video, showing the fan he bought for 10RMB/$1.4 at the Nanchang fireworks.

Some commenters remarked that out of the 1.2 million people who were out in Nanchang that night, he was the only one injured.

Li seems to be doing ok apart from a sore backside and a puzzled mind, and his nephew apparently is also safe and well.

The bizarre misunderstanding has sparked widespread banter online, with people now referring to Li as “Nanchang Brother Fan” (南昌扇子哥).

“I’m dying of laughter. It’s both tragic and hilarious,” one Douyin user wrote, while others simply called the situation “so drama” (抓马 zhuāmǎ): “I’m not supposed to laugh, but I can’t help it.”

Some also noted that they understood why people at the scene mistook Li for a criminal: “At night, a guy with tattoos, holding a long stick-like object, shouting loudly all the way, what would you think?”

All joking aside, the public’s response on such a crowded night — when so many people gathered together, potentially making a tempting target for those with bad intentions — shows a heightened sense of vigilance. Unlike the U.S., where gun violence is more common, shootings are rare in China. But random stabbings have increasingly made headlines.

For Nanchang in particular, a stabbing incident that shocked the nation had taken place only weeks earlier: a 19-year-old woman was attacked and stabbed more than ten times by a 23-year-old man she did not know, and later died from her injuries.

But there have also been other recent cases, from Wuhan to Leiyang. And in 2024 especially, a spate of stabbing incidents shocked the country. In Wuxi, Jiangsu Province, a mass stabbing left eight people dead and 17 others injured.

The positive takeaway from this entire mix-up is that the quick action of the crowd — despite their wrong assessment of the situation — shows that people weren’t afraid to step in for the sake of public safety.

But others claim the exact opposite is true. Illustrator and commentator ‘Wu Zhiru’ (吴之如), former editor at Zhenjiang Daily, saw the incident as an example of toxic herd mentality. He posted an illustration of a fan being held up with the characters 清风徐来 (qīng fēng xú lái, “a cool breeze slowly blows”), an idiom to describe a pleasant atmosphere. A finger from the right points at the fan-holder, saying “Look, he’s gonna commit violence!” (“哇，他要行凶啦!”)

Wu Zhiru warns against panic-driven mob mentality and wonders why the first man, who snatched the “knife” from Li’s hands, did not stop the crowd from attacking Li as soon as he discovered that he had snatched away a fan and not a blade. Drawing historical parallels to the Cultural Revolution, Wu argues that people are sometimes so set on doing the “heroic” thing that they hesitate to correct misunderstandings once better information is available — a mindset that can lead to serious, harmful consequences.

For Li himself, despite the unfortunate night he had, the situation has actually brought him some unexpected fame and extra attention for his second-hand car dealership, which undoubtedly makes his boss happy (in a very recent livestream, Li was praised for being kind and loyal).

Many netizens also argued that the real lesson to draw from this ordeal is the importance of speaking proper standard Chinese. Some even framed the incident as “The Importance of Mandarin” (论普通话的重要性), pointing out that the whole problem began because Li was misunderstood while speaking dialect.

Image posted on Weibo in support of the “fan-waving brother.” The character on the fan says “tolerate.”

Others joked that the misunderstanding was just a grave injustice to shirtless men everywhere, writing: “From now on, the world has one less sincere guy who goes shirtless in the streets. He’ll never be the same again.”

By Manya Koetse

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After renowned director Wong Kar-wai was accused of exploiting a young writer during the production of the hit TV drama Blossoms Shanghai, a scandal unfolded that may be one of the biggest stories in China’s entertainment industry this year.

Even if you don’t recognize him by face, you most likely know him by name: Wong Kar-wai (王家卫, 1958), the internationally acclaimed Hong Kong movie director.

Director Wong Kar-wai, characteristically in sunglasses. (Image via Iazimao).

In late 2023, Wong Kar-wai released his first television series, Blossoms Shanghai (繁花), which was referred to a being the third part of an informal Wong Kar-wai trilogy that started with his films In the Mood for Love and 2046. Thanks to its superior production quality, star-studded cast, and Wong Kar-wai’s signature visual style, it became one of the most talked-about Chinese TV dramas of the time.

Scenes from Shanghai Blossom.

Adapted from Jin Yucheng’s award-winning novel, Blossoms Shanghai is set in 1990s Shanghai and tells the story of a young man, A Bao (played by Hu Ge 胡歌), who aspires to become a successful businessman and self-made millionaire during China’s booming reform era. The series contrasts the protagonist’s troubled past with the city’s vibrant present—and even sparked a wave of visitors to Shanghai landmarks featured in the show.

“Overnight, the headline “Wong Kar-wai Suspected of Exploiting Employees” became the biggest story in Chinese entertainment news”

However, in September, screenwriter Gu Er (古二，real name Cheng Junnian 程骏年) stirred controversy when he published a post on his WeChat official account, @GuErNewWords (古二新语), accusing Wong Kar-wai and lead writer Qin Wen (秦雯) of serious exploitation during the production of Blossoms Shanghai.

Qin Wen, image via Tencent News.

Overnight, the headline “Wong Kar-wai Suspected of Exploiting Employees” (王家卫《繁花》被爆疑似压榨员工) became the biggest story in Chinese entertainment news.

Gu Er is an experienced young screenwriter. After earning a master’s degree from the New York Film Academy, he returned to China, where he worked in theater and dabbled in online films. Though he never became a household name, he had carved out a modest presence in the entertainment industry.

According to a series of diaries he began sharing on WeChat in 2022, Gu Er first joined the Blossoms production team in 2019.

Example of Gu Er’s writings, where he talked about the difficult conditions of working on the Blossoms production.

He described the experience as “powered purely by love” (用爱发电)—in other words, long hours, meager pay, and sheer passion keeping him afloat. These early posts detailed many interactions with Wong Kar-wai and lead scriptwriter Qin Wen, but since the drama had not yet aired, his satirical, lightly veiled critiques attracted little attention.

“When the credits rolled, Gu Er’s name was nowhere to be found under the screenwriting slot”

In 2023, upon the premiere of the series, Gu Er published an article titled “The Truth Behind the Writing of Blossoms” (《繁花》剧本的创作真相). In it, he claimed to have written substantial portions of the storyline and character arcs—work that, he said, had been personally approved by Wong.

He also shared chat screenshots and presented several key concepts he had pitched, many of which viewers later recognized in the broadcast series.

Yet when the credits rolled, his name was nowhere to be found under the screenwriting slot. Instead, he was listed only as “preliminary editor” (前期责编), buried at the very end of the credits in a position so minor it was almost negligible.

For Gu Er, this was humiliating. He believed that his field research, character development, and story-building should have earned him recognition as at least one of the principal writers. The post sparked some discussion, but once again, the controversy quickly faded.

Cheng Junnian is Gu Er’s real name, and in the later recordings he posted, Wong Kar-wai also called him by his real name.

It wasn’t until September 16, 2025—nearly two years later—that Gu Er released another definitive essay, “My Experience as a Screenwriter for Blossoms: A Summary” (《我给〈繁花〉做编剧的经历——小结》).

This time, he laid bare every painstaking detail of his creative process for the main female character’s storyline. He claimed that the production refused to reimburse any of his research and interview expenses—not even for meals or books. He recalled one particular moment: “Once I spent 100 yuan [$7], and the Hong Kong producer immediately scolded me in public: ‘How does writing cost any money?’”

“It’s just a few thousand yuan; he is an assistant and can also write the script—it’s a bargain”

Besides writing duties, Gu Er said he also had to cook meals and run endless errands for Wong Kar-wai. In fact, Gu Er suffers from Kennedy’s disease, a motor neuron illness similar to ALS but slower in progression. Like ALS patients, he is gradually losing strength in his limbs. The intense, high-pressure work environment on set made his condition much worse. When he first told Wong Kar-wai about his health, Wong allegedly responded with nothing but suspicion: “What do you want from me?”

Gu Er, image from the time he was a guest chef at Dee Hsu’s reality show.

Wong Kar-wai wasn’t the only person Gu Er accused of exploitation. He also named lead screenwriter Qin Wen, one of the most prominent figures in Chinese television, known for hit dramas such as The First Half of My Life (我的前半生) and My Heroic Husband (赘婿). Qin is also credited as the screenwriter of Blossoms. According to Gu Er, once his draft script was handed to Qin Wen, she “made a few revisions,” and it was then presented as her work.

He further alleged that Qin tried to push him out of the production team, but Wong Kar-wai intervened, saying: “It’s just a few thousand yuan; he is an assistant and can also write the script—it’s a bargain.”

This post finally drew widespread attention. While the public was shocked by the alleged misconduct of a beloved director, many also questioned Gu Er’s credibility.

The Blossoms production team quickly issued a statement, asserting that more than 2,000 crew members had all been properly credited, and later clarified that Gu Er had only been part of the early-stage research team.

“The very type of boss you’d be too afraid to confront in your own workplace”

However, netizens began combing through Gu Er’s WeChat account and discovered that, in recent months, he had uploaded a series of audio recordings of conversations among the production staff—including Wong and Qin.

These recordings became crucial evidence in Gu Er’s defense. In one recording, a producer admitted that Qin had used ghostwriters and that several major plotlines had, in fact, been written by Gu Er. She also acknowledged that it would be difficult for him to receive proper credit.

Other tapes revealed the director’s harsh treatment of crew members; in one instance, Gu Er himself was publicly humiliated and accused of being “a dog using its master’s power” (狗仗人势).

On September 22, Gu Er released another recording. This time, it featured Wong Kar-wai and Qin Wen gossiping about several well-known actors; when the conversation ended, they asked Gu Er to serve them their food.

Having studied at Le Cordon Bleu in San Francisco, Gu Er had apparently been cooking for Wong without pay. Netizens were particularly angered by how arrogant and condescending Wong sounded in the recording, which many said reminded them of the very type of boss they had been too afraid to confront in their own workplaces.

At the same time, netizens dug up a 2024 report from Hong Kong’s Ming Pao (明报), which detailed how a female screenwriter’s script for Blossoms had also allegedly been exploited by Wong Kar-wai. That writer, too, reportedly suffered from depression as a result.

“The Gu Er incident is a snapshot of class solidification”

On September 23, Gu Er’s WeChat account was taken down, rendering all of his articles and audio recordings inaccessible.

Since both WeChat and the parent company of Blossoms’ production house, Tencent Pictures, are owned by Tencent, netizens immediately speculated that the platform had silenced Gu Er to contain the scandal. The move only fueled public suspicion that Wong had indeed exploited young writers—and calls grew louder for an official response from Wong Kar-wai.

As the controversy spread, screenwriter Qin Wen posted a denial on Weibo, insisting that she had been slandered.

Oscar-winning cinematographer Peter Pau (鲍德熹), who worked on Blossoms, also weighed in, saying that all responsibilities had been clearly outlined in the contracts and accusing Gu Er of deliberately stirring trouble. Hong Kong director Wong Jing (王晶) likewise voiced his support for Wong Kar-wai.

However, the broader public—the majority of netizens as well as many within the industry—stood by Gu Er.

The film news account Qiangbaoshan (@誓要抢包山) commented that regardless of the exact truth of Gu Er’s claims, it was already alarming and unjust that major figures in the film industry had banded together to discredit him while his own platform was banned.

Commenters on Xiaohongshu wrote thousands of posts in defense of Gu Er, calling the incident “a snapshot of class solidification,” or writing: “I also stand with Gu Er. Either you hire a proper chef, or you clearly define the work. If someone contributes ideas and creativity, then give them the pay and credit they deserve.”

Gu Er’s friend Ma Nong (玛侬) also published an article on her WeChat official account in his defense, sharing new photos of Gu Er at work and on set to prove that he had indeed played an important role in the Blossoms production.

Yet through it all, to this day, Wong Kar-wai himself has not uttered a single word in response.

“Because of his cinematic achievements, the media and fans often laughed off his tyrannical behavior as the eccentric quirks of a genius”

Some netizens, after learning the details, were puzzled by Gu Er’s behavior. They criticized him as weak and overly servile, suggesting that what he faced now was partly the result of his own personality flaws.

Yet this very dynamic may be why the public’s anger toward Wong Kar-wai ran so deep. Wong is arguably one of the most influential directors in Chinese cinema. Works such as In the Mood for Love, Chungking Express, and Happy Together have left an indelible mark on world cinema and inspired generations of filmmakers. For a relative ‘nobody’ like Gu Er, Wong Kar-wai would have seemed an idol—a god-like figure (Gu Er also expressed his love and admiration for Wong in his previous articles). And it may have been precisely this sense of awe and worship that left Gu Er vulnerable to workplace bullying and manipulation.

Wong Kar-wai’s harsh treatment of his actors and crew has actually never been a secret. Famous actors who previously worked with him, such as Leslie Cheung and Tony Leung, have spoken openly about his extreme working methods. After filming Happy Together, Leslie Cheung announced that he would never work with Wong again, later revealing that he felt the director had exploited his sexuality. During the shoot of Ashes of Time (东邪西毒), Cheung nearly died from poisoning in the desert. Even in their earlier collaborations, he was often tormented by Wong’s constant changes and endless demands.

Wong’s obsessive pursuit of his own has repeatedly come at the expense of those around him. While filming The Grandmaster, he reportedly withheld actress Song Hye-kyo’s passport and kept her on set for months, only to use a handful of shots in the final cut.

Yet, because of his cinematic achievements, the media and fans often laughed off his tyrannical behavior as the eccentric quirks of a genius.

After the Gu Er controversy, however, many began to re-examine the man behind the perpetual sunglasses—not as an untouchable auteur, but as an employer accountable for his power. Wong Kar-wai has long been known for procrastination, perfectionism, and “torturing actors,” but the stakes of this reputation now feel different.

Meanwhile, Gu Er’s WeChat account remains banned. It is difficult to imagine why a man already battling a degenerative illness would continue to fight so publicly for recognition, unless he felt he had nothing left to lose.

Writer Shuimuding (水木丁) raised deeper concerns about Gu Er’s desperate, all-or-nothing stance, reminding readers of the darker history of the Chinese film industry, where young talent has been pushed to despair—and sometimes even to death—by powerful figures. The most haunting example is Hu Bo (胡波), the brilliant director of An Elephant Sitting Still (大象席地而坐), who took his own life after facing similar pressures.

This is why the Wong Kar-wai scandal matters. No matter how talented the director, actual exploitation can never be justified for the sake of the project. Perhaps it is time to stop using exceptional artistic talent as an excuse for unacceptable workplace dynamics.

By Ruixin Zhang

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edited for clarity by Manya Koetse

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