Who Forced Xi Jinping to Lose Chen Xi? Cai Qi Takes Over the Party School — What Signal Does It Hide? Unveiling the Life-and-Death Pact Between Xi and Chen, and the Root Cause of the Wipeout of Hu Jintao's Tuan Faction! Why Cai Qi, the Outcome of Struggle and Compromise Among All Factions? [Jiang Feng Perspective 20260608 Episode 404]

This article deeply analyzes the political power games and personnel earthquake hidden behind the sudden departure of Chen Xi, President of the CCP Central Committee Party School, and his replacement by Cai Qi. The article traces the "life-and-death pact" and decades-long deep political alliance between Chen Xi and Xi Jinping since their days as classmates at Tsinghua University in 1975, outlines how Chen Xi helped Xi Jinping build the team of the Xi faction, and analyzes that this personnel change at the Party School was not an active arrangement by Xi Jinping, but the result of a game of compromise between opposing forces within the party and the loosening of the power base.

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Hello friends, welcome to Jiang Feng Horizon. On June 5, the CCP Central Committee Party School held the graduation ceremony for the second batch of classes of the spring semester. A senior official on stage handed out certificates to the students. Who was this senior official? The official press release clearly stated that it was Party School President Cai Qi. With just such a casual sentence, a massive personnel earthquake in Zhongnanhai was practically announced to the world. Many people seeing this news might just think it is a routine personnel change, and that the power in Cai Qi's hands has grown larger. But if we roll the timeline back just a little bit, on May 15, twenty days ago, the Party School held an opening ceremony. Sitting dead center on the rostrum at that time, giving instructions to the students in the capacity of the president, was Chen Xi. In twenty days, without any buildup, without a handover ceremony, and without the kind of steady Xinhua News Agency press release stating he was no longer holding the post, Chen Xi simply vanished into thin air from the position of Party School president. Within the black-box system of the Chinese Communist Party that emphasizes pageantry, rules, and seniority, changing the president of the CCP Central Committee Party School is definitely a matter of no small consequence.

Let us look back at the era of Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao, and even include the person currently at the peak of the pyramid in Zhongnanhai: when they took over as president of the Party School, the timing was locked down tightly. Hu Jintao entered the Politburo Standing Committee at the 14th National Congress in 1992 and took over in February of the following year. Zeng Qinghong took over in December 2002 after the 16th National Congress. Liu Yunshan also took over in January of the year following the conclusion of the 18th National Congress. The consistent pattern was that after the Party's National Congress concluded and the First Plenary Session finished to finalize the new team, everyone would catch their breath, wait a month or even a few months, and then complete the handover of the Party School president. But Chen Xi? Back when he rose to power and today when he stepped down, he completely smashed this set of rules to pieces. On the day the First Plenary Session of the 19th Central Committee concluded in 2017, the person in Zhongnanhai anxiously announced that very day that Chen Xi was taking over the Organization Department of the CCP Central Committee and the Central Committee Party School. Not only did this break the iron rule lasting nearly thirty years that the Party School president must be concurrently held by a member of the Politburo Standing Committee, but they were not even willing to wait a single extra day. And today, Cai Qi's succession similarly disregards all rules of fair play. With a little over a year to go before the 21st National Congress of the Chinese Communist Party, and not at any plenary session leadership transition node, Cai Qi has been hastily pushed to the forefront to take over this supreme institution dedicated to brainwashing senior CCP cadres. What kind of story is hidden behind this?

To truly understand Chen Xi's special status in Zhongnanhai, we have to go back to Tsinghua University in 1975. Tsinghua in that era was not the ivory tower of today where students enter based on gaokao scores; back then, the worker-peasant-soldier student system was practiced, which essentially meant admission was based on class background and recommendations. Chen Xi, a native of Putian, Fujian, was an ordinary worker at the Fuzhou University machinery plant. Because of his politically reliable background and active performance, he was recommended by the plant to attend the Chemical Engineering Department of Tsinghua University, majoring in basic organic synthesis. In that very same class, an educated youth from Liangjihe in northern Shaanxi also reported for duty holding a recommendation letter issued by his production brigade. This person was none other than the big boss sitting on the dragon throne today. These two young men, born in the same year and both twenty-two years old, were not only assigned to the same class but also arranged into the same dorm, sleeping on the upper and lower bunks of a single bunk bed: Chen Xi slept on the top bunk, and that educated youth slept on the bottom. In that special historical period, interpersonal relationships were extremely delicate. Chen Xi was a politically reliable working-class big brother, while the brother sleeping on his bottom bunk had a very awkward identity. His father was still undergoing investigation at the time and had been labeled an anti-party element, and his own file bore the label of a black gang descendant. In an era when class struggle was the guiding principle, someone with such an identity was given the cold shoulder everywhere they went and even faced targets drawing a clear ideological line against them. But Chen Xi did not look down on this brother sleeping on the bottom bunk. On the contrary, because their personalities clicked, the two quickly became close buddies who talked about everything.

However, mere schoolmate camaraderie alone was not enough to make this relationship the most solid political alliance in the Chinese Communist Party political arena in the future. Hidden within this relationship was a life-and-death pact sufficient to change the course of history. Due to his father's implication, the political future of this educated youth was originally pitch black; wanting to make a way out for himself inside the system, joining the party was the only stepping stone. But how easy was it for a black gang descendant to want to join the party? During his time as an educated youth sent to the countryside and after arriving at Tsinghua, he wrote a total of nine party admission applications back-to-back. Every time he submitted one, what he faced was the cold face of political review cadres and unmerciful rejections. Nine applications, nine rejections—if it were an average person, they probably would have grown disheartened and accepted their fate long ago. Just as he was preparing to submit his tenth party admission application, a critical figure stepped forward, and this person was none other than Chen Xi, who was serving as the student party branch secretary of the class at the time. Everyone can imagine that political atmosphere: acting as a party admission recommender for a black gang descendant was not just as simple as signing a signature on a document; it required mortgaging one's own political future as an endorsement. Once the ideological winds from above shifted and investigated the issue of class standpoint, as the recommender, Chen Xi would definitely have been unable to bear the consequences and might even have been labeled as a black cadre element sympathizing with rightist elements. But Chen Xi signed. He not only signed, but also utilized his status as the party branch secretary to maneuver and put in a good word at every stage, stubbornly withstanding the pressure to get the party admission procedures for this bottom-bunk brother processed. In 1974, this was the true starting point of that big boss's political life. Without the name signed by Chen Xi at the risk of huge political danger, there would not have been the county party secretary who later smoothly stepped onto the official career path, and even less could there have been the supreme leader wearing the yellow robe today. How heavy is this debt of gratitude? This is called the grace of political regeneration. Chen Xi witnessed the darkest times of that young educated youth when he was at his most down and out, most helpless, and most rejected by the world. In countless nights after the lights went out, Chen Xi on the top bunk listened to the sighs of his bottom-bunk brother tossing and turning due to a bleak future, and he chose to reach out his hand to pull his brother out of the political quagmire. This kind of trust built in times of adversity is extremely pure and extremely solid; it transcends all future interest-based exchanges and flattery in officialdom, because when Chen Xi was at his weakest, he did not kick him while he was down, but rather provided timely help in the snow. This life-and-death pact became the biggest get-out-of-jail-free card for Chen Xi to swagger through the Chinese Communist Party officialdom later on.

In the spring of 1979, this group of worker-peasant-soldier students from the Department of Chemical Engineering at Tsinghua University graduated. Good brothers who had lived in the same dormitory for four years headed toward completely different crossroads in life. Because his father had been rehabilitated and returned to power, the older brother's family political resources were reactivated. After graduation, he was directly assigned to the General Office of the Central Military Commission, the central nervous system of power in the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), serving as an active-duty secretary for the then-Minister of National Defense, Geng Biao. Donning the four-pocket officer's uniform, he officially stepped into the intricate web of power of the CCP. As for Chen Xi, he did not have such a prominent family background. After graduation, he was sent back to his home province and assigned to the Department of Chemical Engineering at Fuzhou University to become an ordinary teacher. At this moment, the life trajectories of the two seemed to become parallel. After teaching at Fuzhou University for a few months, in the summer of 1979, Chen Xi, relying on his own genuine talent and learning, tested back into the Department of Chemical Engineering at Tsinghua University to pursue a master's degree in catalytic kinetics. The first thing Chen Xi did after returning to Beijing was not to settle his bedding at the school guest house, nor to take pastries to visit his future graduate advisor, but to head straight to the headquarters of the General Office of the Central Military Commission to visit that old classmate who was running errands in the core circle of power. Let everyone savor this action: in 1979, the two had just graduated a few months prior, yet their status and position were already worlds apart. One was a secretary to a high-ranking official holding confidential documents, and the other was a poor student who still had to study hard. This was a brotherhood that transcended differences in status. In the nearly forty years that followed, the two seemed to drift further and further apart on their respective tracks. The older brother struggled through the political quagmire, from the Central Military Commission to Zhengding, Hebei, then to Xiamen, Ningde, and Fuzhou in Fujian, eventually becoming the Governor of Fujian Province. Later, he was transferred to Zhejiang and Shanghai, and finally broke through the siege at the 17th National Congress, advancing into Zhongnanhai and establishing his status as the heir apparent. These decades of official ups and downs were full of intrigue, factional strife, and cruel power struggles. Chen Xi's resume, however, appeared clean, even monotonously dull. After receiving his master's degree, he stayed at Tsinghua to teach, starting as an ordinary lecturer and slowly moving into administrative management positions. During this period, from 1990 to 1992, he was sent as a visiting scholar to Stanford University in the United States for two years. After returning to China, he continued to accumulate seniority in the Party committee system of Tsinghua University until he became the Party Secretary of Tsinghua University in 2002, reaching the threshold of a vice-ministerial level within the system. One was fighting in the officialdom, the other was hiding in an ivory tower. On the surface, their parting of ways over these forty years looked like they were drifting apart, but in reality, this was precisely the fundamental reason why Chen Xi could become the most beloved and irreplaceable strategist for that older brother. Why? Because Chen Xi was too safe. Within the CCP system, local officials inevitably form intricate interest groups in the process of climbing the ladder of power. If you are an official in a locality, you must have old leaders who promoted you, you must have old subordinates you promoted yourself, and you will inevitably be tainted by local economic interests and interpersonal networks. Anyone who reaches a high position is covered in heavy factional baggage. But Chen Xi did not. He had long been dormant in the relatively closed and simple environment of a university. He had never governed a locality, so he had no so-called independent power base. He had never been in charge of economic power, so he had no interest entanglements that would make others jealous. For that leader who had seen enough betrayal and calculation in the local officialdom, whenever he encountered political troubles or doubts about personnel, who could he consult with the most peace of mind? Those local colleagues? One must always be on guard against others. Those subordinates? They would only report the good and hide the bad. Only his old classmate Chen Xi, far away in the Tsinghua Garden in Beijing, was the perfect advisor. Chen Xi did not need to extract local economic interests from the leader, and the leader did not have to worry about Chen Xi selling intelligence to other political forces. Although the two were far apart, their connection was never broken. Chen Xi became the leader's most secret intelligence station and a non-political white glove, and the interests of the two had long been closed-loop in the dark. Does everyone remember that between 1998 and 2002, when that leader was serving as the Deputy Party Secretary and Governor of Fujian Province, he obtained an on-the-job doctoral degree in Marxist theory and ideological and political education from the School of Humanities and Social Sciences at Tsinghua University? No need to leave his post, no need to take the national unified doctoral entrance exam, studying while serving as the Governor of Fujian, and finally easily obtaining a law doctorate diploma. Who was in charge of the Party committee system at Tsinghua University at that time? It was Chen Xi. You took the risk back then to be my introducer for Party membership, giving me the starting point of my political life. Later, when I was a regional official in the locality and urgently needed a high academic degree to decorate my facade, it was you who opened the green light at Tsinghua, inlaying my diploma with gold with a law doctorate. Chen Xi not only gave this leader the stepping stone but also draped him in golden armor. This kind of kindness of escorting him all the way had long ago tied the two's fates together. It is no wonder that when the leader later ascended to the throne, he would risk his life to ensure Chen Xi's promotion.

In 2007, as the 17th National Congress of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) concluded, the political landscape of Zhongnanhai underwent a drastic change. Li Keqiang, the successor from the Youth League faction who had been widely favored by the outside world, was overshadowed by that educated youth who once lived in the lower bunk at Tsinghua University. Emerging as a dark horse, he ascended to the Politburo Standing Committee and was appointed Vice President, officially establishing his status as the crown prince. A new official always wants to make a splash, let alone the future ruler of the nation. Once his status as the supreme leader was established, the first thing on his mind was to promote his good brother, Chen Xi. In 2008, the boss made his move. He used his power as a member of the Politburo Standing Committee to nominate Chen Xi, then Party Secretary of Tsinghua University, to be transferred to the Ministry of Education as Deputy Party Secretary and Vice Minister. The boss's plan was well-calculated: let Chen Xi transition in the position of Vice Minister to familiarize himself with the workings of the ministry, and before long, have him succeed the then-Minister of Education, Zhou Ji, allowing Chen Xi to legitimately join the ranks of ministerial-level officials. Once he crossed the threshold of ministerial rank, Chen Xi's future career path would be wide open—he could advance to the cabinet or take control of a province. However, the boss never expected that this first move would be doused with a bucket of ice water. Who was so bold as to block the crown prince's path? The answer lies with two key generals of the Youth League faction, who were at the height of their power at the time. Specifically, the two joined forces to set up an impenetrable wall: one was Ling Jihua, Director of the General Office of the CCP Central Committee, known as the "Chief Steward of Zhongnanhai," and the other was Li Yuanchao, Minister of the Organization Department of the CCP Central Committee, who controlled the appointments of officials across the country. Ling Jihua and Li Yuanchao represented the power core of the Hu Jintao era. In their eyes, this crown prince, who had just been pushed up by a compromise between various factions, had not yet stood firm, yet he wanted to force his college buddy into a central ministry as the top leader—no way. Facing the boss's nomination, the Organization Department played a stalling game. Li Yuanchao used various high-sounding excuses, such as insufficient qualifications under the cadre appointment regulations and a lack of local governance experience, to firmly block Chen Xi's path to promotion. Ling Jihua coordinated from the center, making Chen Xi's tenure as Vice Minister of Education extremely frustrating. Seeing that a direct push wouldn't work, the boss had to resort to a flanking maneuver. In September 2010, he pulled Chen Xi out of the Ministry of Education and parachuted him into Liaoning Province as Deputy Party Secretary. The boss's thinking was: didn't you say Chen Xi lacked local work experience? I'll send him to a major industrial province like Liaoning to gain some prestige and build a resume as a provincial deputy party secretary; surely he can be promoted to a ministerial-level governor now. As it turned out, the Youth League faction still didn't buy it. After staying in Liaoning for only seven months, Chen Xi's path to promotion was once again blocked by the combined efforts of Ling Jihua and Li Yuanchao. They simply wouldn't give him the ministerial rank and were determined to keep him grinding on the "cold bench" of a deputy ministerial position. At the time, Chen Xi was already 58 years old. According to the rules of the CCP's officialdom, the retirement age for deputy ministerial-level cadres is 60. If the ministerial-level status could not be resolved, Chen Xi would face the end of his career, retiring and quietly leaving the political stage. Seeing his good brother about to be worn down to death by political rivals, the boss became truly desperate. He stopped caring about appearances and was determined to save his brother at all costs. In April 2011, the boss utilized immense political resources to force Chen Xi into the China Association for Science and Technology, a "clear-water yamen" (an office with no real power) as Party Secretary and Executive Vice President. Although the association was a mass organization without real power, the position of Party Secretary was a genuine ministerial-level post. Relying on this risky move, the boss helped Chen Xi secure ministerial-level status at the last moment before he turned 60, thereby successfully extending Chen Xi's political life to 65. This left the most critical spark for the comprehensive counterattack that would follow after the 18th National Congress.

Reading this, don't you all have a sudden moment of realization? Why did Xi Jinping ruthlessly crack down on the Communist Youth League faction after the 18th Party Congress? Why did he ruin Ling Jihua's family, and why did he completely marginalize and even place Li Yuanchao under house arrest? Beyond the cold political logic, there is also a deeply ingrained personal grudge hidden here. This five-year history of humiliation not only explains the root cause of the Youth League faction's destruction, but also lets us understand the petty and vengeful nature of the boss, and further proves one point: for Chen Xi, that boss is willing to repeatedly exhaust his extremely precious political capital. In the late autumn of 2012, the 18th Party Congress of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) was held. The boss, who had endured for five years, finally ascended to the supreme position, gripping the party, government, and military power tightly in his hands. The endurance was over; the moment for settling scores and dividing the spoils had arrived. As soon as the 18th Party Congress concluded, the boss impatiently transferred Chen Xi, who had been taking shelter at the China Association for Science and Technology, back to the center of power, appointing him as the executive deputy minister of the CCP Central Committee Organization Department. The minister at the time was Zhao Leji, but everyone in the compound of the Organization Department knew that the one who truly called the shots was the executive deputy minister from Tsinghua University. Chen Xi effectively sidelined Zhao Leji, firmly gripping the official hats of officials across the realm for the boss. By the time of the 19th Party Congress of the CCP in 2017, the boss had completely eliminated his political opponents and his power had reached its peak. Chen Xi also finally ushered in the most glorious moment of his life. Not only did he officially assume the post of minister of the Organization Department, but he also broke a nearly thirty-year convention where only members of the Politburo Standing Committee could concurrently serve as the president of the Party School. As a member of the Politburo, on the very day the First Plenary Session of the 19th Central Committee concluded, he hurriedly took over the Central Party School. Moreover, during the institutional reforms of 2018, the boss specifically ordered the Chinese Academy of Governance, which originally belonged to the State Council system, to be directly merged into the Central Party School under one administration with two nameplates. From then on, all officials across China worth cultivating—whether from the party affairs system or the government affairs system, from county party secretaries to provincial and ministerial-level grandees—had to first enter that compound of the Central Party School to be scanned inside and out by Chen Xi's human X-ray machine if they wanted a promotion. From 2017 to 2026, over this long span of nine years, Chen Xi became the veritable Minister of Personnel. To speak bluntly, while the outside world constantly hypes up factions like the Fujian clique, the Zhejiang clique, and the New Zhijiang Army, the ultimate convergence point of all these factions is actually the Chen Xi clique. Because in these nine years, the appointment of every provincial party secretary and the promotion of every minister could not be separated from Chen Xi's evaluation, screening, and nodding approval. He helped the boss purge dissidents throughout the party, marginalizing officials with Youth League or Jiang Zemin faction backgrounds one by one, and replacing them with submissive technocrats and Tsinghua alumni. Chen Xi is the foundry master hiding behind the scenes who personally forged the entire Xi family army lineup for Xi Jinping. To allow this foundry master to work for a few more years, the boss even went so far as to completely scrap the CCP top leadership's iron age rule of "seven up, eight down." When the 20th Party Congress of the CCP was held in 2022, Chen Xi was already 69 years old, long past the red line of having to retire at 68. He stepped down as a member of the Politburo and minister of the Organization Department at the 20th Party Congress, and everyone thought he was going to completely retire back to his hometown. But what happened? The boss actually pulled off heaven-defying maneuvers, letting Chen Xi—an ordinary party member who wasn't even a member of the Central Committee—continue to occupy the extremely core position of president of the Central Party School. He stayed in the role for over three years, all the way until today at the advanced age of 72. What kind of trust is this? This close-fitting cotton-padded jacket that was worn right there in the Tsinghua campus has blocked countless overt and covert arrows for the boss over the past dozen years and done plenty of thankless, dirty work for him.

However, why was he suddenly kicked out in such an extremely pathetic manner within twenty days in June 2026? This kind of emergency-brake style personnel change is by no means a normal political arrangement. In the past few days, when Cai Qi suddenly appeared on the podium at the graduation ceremony of the Party School, everyone was exclaiming in shock, saying that Cai Qi's power was simply boundless. Not only is he a member of the Politburo Standing Committee and the top-ranked secretary of the CCP Central Committee Secretariat, but he also concurrently serves as the director of the General Office of the CCP Central Committee, controlling the daily life and security of the big boss. He has also taken over the lucrative post of head of the Central Party Building Leading Group, and now even the job of president of the Central Party School, specifically used for brainwashing people, has been snatched into his hands. In recent days, there has even been a wild rumor circulating in Beijing's political circles that has not yet been officially hammered down, saying that Cai Qi is about to take over as the first vice chairman of the Central Military Commission. Whether this news is true or false, let us let the bullets fly for a while, but in the black-box politics of the CCP, rumors often turn out to be prophecies that are far ahead of their time. To take a step back, even if Cai Qi does not enter the Military Commission, the personnel power, security power, and ideological power he currently holds in his hands have already made him an untitled vice president. However, if we slightly compare the relationships of Chen Xi and Cai Qi with the big boss, you will find that Cai Qi's gorgeous coat actually hides fatal barbs. When did Cai Qi meet the big boss? It was 1985, a full ten years later than Chen Xi. This ten-year time gap determined the completely different psychological positions of the two in the big boss's mind. Moreover, what is even more fatal is that in 1985, when Cai Qi met the big boss in Fujian, the big boss was already the standing committee member of the Xiamen Municipal Party Committee and vice mayor, having been parachuted down from the center with the halo of a red-generation background to gain experience, while Cai Qi at that time was merely a deputy division-level officer in the General Office of the Fujian Provincial Party Committee. Everyone, just imagine this temperature difference in power; from the very first day the two met, Cai Qi was looking up. What he faced was a leader with power in his hands and a deep background. This relationship, at its root, was an officialdom superior-subordinate relationship of dependence and being depended on, instruction and obedience. Chen Xi was like a close-fitting cotton-padded jacket. At the end of the Cultural Revolution, in the freezing cold when everyone could not even get enough to eat, he was right against the big boss's skin and knew how many scars the big boss had on his body. That kind of camaraderie treated the big boss as a person of flesh and blood, whereas Cai Qi is like a bulletproof jacket. From the very beginning, he existed as a functional tool. Back then in Fujian and Zhejiang, Cai Qi did the work of a chief housekeeper who wrote major secret drafts for the leader, arranged itineraries, and handled troublesome matters. The leader used him smoothly and thus promoted him all the way. Cai Qi's loyalty to the big boss is established on the premise that the leader is always right; he is catering to power rather than guarding a brother.

Let's go back and ponder the strange twenty-day time gap. Would the Boss really be willing to voluntarily replace Chen Xi? Absolutely not. As we said before, if it were a voluntary handover, the timing of the resignation and the succession wouldn't be such an emergency stop. If Chen Xi really had a major health issue, according to the CCP's black-box operating customs, they would definitely have leaked some information to imply that the old comrade was unwell and voluntarily stepped down, at least to save face for both sides. But now? Silence. What does this mean? It means this was not the Boss's original intention at all, but rather the intervention of a powerful external force. Why wasn't the Politburo meeting held at the end of May? A fierce struggle must have taken place in Zhongnanhai where the tables were turned. The opposition forces or other interest groups within the party have already pushed the Boss to the brink, forcing him to surrender the Central Party School, a key position that controls the personnel and brainwashing power of the entire party. On the surface, Cai Qi's succession looks like one of his own taking over, but in reality, it is highly likely a huge compromise made by both sides after a bloody confrontation. What does that mean? The Boss kept the face of holding power, while the opposition successfully stripped away the Boss's inner lining—his close confidant. This precisely confirms a cruel reality: the person at the top is not as powerful as the outside world boasts. His power base is undergoing serious loosening. When you are forced to take off your close-fitting cotton jacket and put on the thickest, most magnificent bulletproof coat, although you can hide your weakness, you cannot bypass the most basic human nature. A coat can be taken off, and a coat can be put on someone else at any time. Cai Qi now talks about "entering the brain, heart, and soul" every day, acting more loyal than anyone else. But does Cai Qi have his own interest group behind him? Are the lackeys from the Zhejiang and Fujian factions he promoted all looking at him, waiting for him to advance further? Once we reach the CCP's 21st National Congress next year, once the Boss's control over power loosens further due to health reasons or sudden changes in political struggle, and once there is no longer that "one-man supremacy" pressing down on Cai Qi's head, do you think Cai Qi will continue to execute the Boss's line like a loyal dog? Don't be naive. There are no fools in Zhongnanhai, only actors. The first thing every generation of successors does upon taking office is to negate their predecessor. How did Hua Guofeng treat Mao Zedong's wife and nephew? How did Deng Xiaoping treat Mao Zedong's line? How did Khrushchev liquidate Stalin in his secret report? A politician like Cai Qi, who climbed to the pinnacle of power by pandering to the will of his superiors and being ruthless, once he completely controls the machine, he will definitely be the first to jump out and smash the Boss's signboard, because only by negating the past can he establish his own new altar. Alright, that's all for today. Please remember to subscribe and turn on the notification bell.

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