February 6 marks the fifth anniversary of the death of Dr. Li Wenliang, a young ophthalmologist at Wuhan Central Hospital whose attempts to warn colleagues and the public of an emerging coronavirus made him a heroic symbol of free speech and principled resistance. Punished and forced to sign a letter of admonishment by the police, and chastised by Chinese state media for being a “rumormonger,” Dr. Li later contracted COVID in the course of his work at the hospital and died. His heart stopped in the late evening of February 6, 2020, although the official announcement of his death was delayed until nearly 3:00 a.m. the following morning: likely under pressure from local authorities fearing public outrage, the hospital attempted many hours of futile treatment that some have termed “political resuscitation.” Dr. Li’s death was followed by a sternly worded censorship directive to the Chinese media: “Do not report on the death of Doctor Li Wenliang of Wuhan Central Hospital.” And the virus that came to be known as SARS-CoV-2 would go on to kill at least seven million people worldwide, although estimates of excess deaths are much higher, in the tens of millions.
As on the four previous anniversaries marking Dr. Li’s passing, many Chinese netizens left messages in the comments section under his final Weibo post, a venue that has become known as China’s “Wailing Wall.” (CDT has published extensive translations of these comments from the Chinese public, including this in-depth article and translation from 2021. Our editors also periodically archive new Wailing Wall content in Chinese and English, and produce a Chinese-language post and video feature monthly.)
This week, CDT Chinese editors have archived yet another collection of articles, online comments, and tributes to Dr. Li Wenliang and his legacy. One interesting remembrance is an emotional video interview with Dr. Li’s parents in Liaoning province, which was posted by a video blogger who goes by the name of 周叔走农村 ( Zhōu Shū zǒu nóngcūn, "Uncle Zhou, traveling through the countryside.") Zhou has apparently kept in touch with Dr. Li’s parents over the years. The short video reveals that even now, five years after their son’s untimely death, his parents are still mired in grief. Dr. Li’s father told Zhou that when he and his wife were taken to Wuhan by car in 2020, they were not allowed to see their son in person while he was in the hospital, nor to view his body at the funeral home—they were only able to peer at him through a pane of glass. Dr. Li’s mother added tearfully, “To not even let us take a look at our son … it was so inhumane.” Dr. Li’s wife Fu Xuejie also appears to be present in the video, at times comforting her parents-in-law, but remaining silent throughout. In the video, when Li Wenliang’s name appears on screen, it is rendered not in Chinese characters, but with the abbreviation “LWL.” Later, after the video attracted a fair amount of attention online, some Chinese netizens noticed that several related videos had been deleted from the WeChat video platform.
WeChat blogger Princess Minmin, who pens an annual tribute to Dr. Li Wenliang, wrote this year about the importance of individuals of conscience who are willing to risk speaking the truth in order to benefit their fellow human beings. She mentions Dr. Zheng Minhua, the director of general surgery at Shanghai Ruijin Hospital, who recently deleted his WeChat account after he was attacked by online trolls for expressing his well-founded concerns about the quality of bulk-purchased generic medications in China. Some of the problems Dr. Zheng pointed out were "anesthesia that does not put patients to sleep” and “blood-pressure medication that does not lower blood pressure”:
Dr. Zheng from Shanghai was attacked by many people online, just for saying a few words about centrally-procured medications. The bad people are still as bad as ever, and it’s harder than ever to be a good person. These shit-stirring losers are so blatant that those who would tell the truth are cowed and intimidated.
"Health is at stake, and life is in your hands," [as the medical oath reads.] Doctors should tell the truth. If doctors lie, particularly in the field of public health, many people will die.
Honesty is a valuable quality indeed. There are far too many people who are willing to tell bald-faced lies that even they don’t believe, which makes honesty a more precious commodity than ever.
We cherish Dr. Li Wenliang because he told the truth.
People tend to be forgetful. Maybe people are already starting to forget what happened during those [pandemic] years. Maybe in a few years or a few decades, there won’t be many who still remember what happened in the spring of 2020. But those words spoken by Dr. Li Wenliang—“There should be more than one voice in a healthy society”—will not be forgotten. [Chinese]
CDT has also compiled and translated some of the many comments left by Weibo users on Dr. Li Wenliang’s Wailing Wall between February 6-7, 2025:
槟榔南瓜子03: Doctor Li, it’s been five years. Back then, I was still an ignorant high-school student, in awe of your courage and outraged by your tragedy. It was then that the idea of studying medicine really took root in my heart. After many setbacks, I was finally able to follow my dream of studying clinical medicine. It wasn’t an easy path, but the belief that I could "become a person just like you" always inspired me to keep moving forward. I hope everything is well with you over there, and I also hope that all the people encouraging and confiding in each other here can get the life they want. Good night!
此情此L老把: This afternoon I’ll go to Central Park West 96th Street to visit your park bench.
为什么你总一个人在走廊上看月亮: QQ suddenly reminded me of some things I posted five years ago, so I came here to visit you. I remember waiting up late into the night for news about you. They said it happened on the 7th, but it was actually the 6th, wasn’t it? I was still a high-school student at that time, and I saw and experienced far too many things in the space of just a month or two. These last five years have gone by in a flash. Nowadays, I rarely express my opinions on social media, but I hope the flame won’t die out. May you rest in peace, Dr. Li.
MyPreciousburden: I still remember anxiously reading the news about you on Weibo, in the early hours of the morning five years ago. In the blink of an eye, so much time has passed, and the world still disappoints. But people like you are the light in the fog, and your words (“There should be more than one voice in a healthy society”) still echo in my heart. Best wishes, Dr. Li! I don’t understand, and I won’t forget.
常笑94468: Wow, it’s been five years. It was snowing the day you left us, and now outside my window, it’s snowing again. Since you left, so many things have been torn apart, and we can never go back to the way it was. I hope you’re safe and sound.
抬頭尚有天空_敲不碎: So it’s been five years. I hope you’re now a carefree, active, happy little five-year-old child. The world hasn’t improved, but it hasn’t collapsed, either. We haven’t forgotten you.
裕泰王掌柜: Five years later, and the words you spoke haven’t yet come true.
跳跃的灵魂077: We will see that day for you.
用户6227760699: Has it really been five years? We will always remember you—both as a sincere, kind, upstanding, and courageous doctor, and as a lively, lovely, vital, and authentic ordinary person.
育人大业: In the past five years, I wonder how many people’s Weibo posts have disappeared, “gone with the wind.”
用户7748022176: Five years have passed and I still miss you. The world hasn’t gotten any better. If anything, it’s even more insane. To borrow a bit of online slang, I hope everyone gets the life they want! Remember Shanghai, 2022: NEVER FORGET. NEVER FORGIVE! [Chinese]
CDT’s Wailing Wall archive is compiled by Tony Hu.
