Xi Jinping softens and pleads for mercy, why still can’t step down? The Senate is drafting verdicts: Wen Jiabao to receive heavy sentencing, Jia Qinglin argues for light sentencing, Li Zhanshu forced to submit constitutional amendment materials 【Jiang Feng Vision 20260725 Issue 445】
The program focuses on whether Xi Jinping is willing to relinquish power, the postponement of the Fifth Plenum of the Central Committee, and the internal power arrangements among the CCP senior leadership. It analyzes the different stances of Wen Jiabao, Jia Qinglin, Li Zhanshu and others in the so‑called verdict, and outlines the Party’s decision‑making and coordination bodies, the constitutional amendment process, controversies related to the 20th Party Congress, as well as historical precedents set by Mao Zedong, Hua Guofeng, and Zhao Ziyang.
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Welcome back to Jiang Feng Vision, friends. Xi Jinping has already softened. In late July, news from outside the Great Firewall reported that Xi’s chief strategist Chen Xi has been taken into custody by the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection. Chen Xi controls more than a decade of cadre files and promotion lists; if even someone like him can’t be protected, who can the “Xi family” rely on?
So Xi asked elders like Jia Qinglin to step forward and deliver a message: willing to hand over power, willing to step down, just looking for a way out. In theory, a dictator willing to resign would end the drama, but Beijing shows no sign of ending it. The Fifth Plenum was supposed to convene in July, now pushed to October. The list has been on the table for a long time, but no one dares to open it.
What Xi is willing to hand over is a position, but that position comes with a bundle of things. He oversaw the constitutional amendment that removed term limits, and he was the one who publicly expelled Hu Jintao from the 20th Congress venue. How Li Keqiang “S‑ed” (was handled) remains unsettled. The accounts from January 20 this year, when Zhang Youxia and Liu Zhenli were taken down, are still pending.
How should these events be characterized? A single elder making mistakes in his twilight years, or an organized illegal power grab? That is why Beijing is now actually drafting a verdict. Jia Qinglin is fighting for a lighter sentence for himself while advocating for Xi. He was the earliest promoter of Xi’s rise.
Back then, in the Xiamen Yuanhua case, why did Liu Huaqing’s faction and the General Staff Intelligence system pay the price, while Jia Qinglin, who governed Fujian, kept climbing to the Politburo Standing Committee? That account will also be reopened. On July 15, his former subordinate, former head of the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television Cai Fuhao, who had retired for ten years, was suddenly investigated. This is a warning from the CCP’s “senate” to Jia Qinglin: if you keep interceding for Xi, the next dossier that surfaces will be your own.
Li Zhanshu holds the procedural documents that could rewrite this verdict. The constitutional amendment, the third term, the 20th Congress list – the entire procedural package passed through his hands back then. His old base, Heilongjiang, sees one fall‑from‑grace report after another. One side is fighting for a lighter verdict, the other is forced to hand over evidence. Where this verdict lands will decide not only Xi’s fate but whether the Party dares to admit that the past fourteen years have been an unchecked power seizure.
According to Party procedures, turning the handling of a sitting General Secretary into an official Party conclusion must pass three levels. Normally, the Politburo Standing Committee of seven makes the decisions; to form an official proposal for a plenary session, a Politburo meeting of twenty‑four members must review it; the final decision is made at a Central Committee plenary session, where over two hundred Central Committee members vote.
But today the first two levels have completely broken down. The seven‑member Standing Committee, aside from Xi himself, consists entirely of people he promoted. Most of the twenty‑four Politburo members are also his appointees, and they now cannot even protect themselves. Reports from outside the wall name individuals: Cai Qi is repeatedly summoned for talks, Ding Xuexiang is being dragged into a case linked to the Zhongzhi group, Wang Huning is busy running errands for others, having co‑defendants draft judgments for the defendants.
This case cannot be judged, and the plenary session is even more reluctant to convene. Holding a meeting before the verdict is written, and revealing a list that lacks enough votes, would be a public disaster. The Fifth Plenum keeps being delayed, and the delay is precisely about this.
So where exactly was this verdict written? To answer that, we have to go back to a document from last year. On June 30, 2025, the Politburo met to review a regulation, whose full name is long: "Regulations on the Work of the Central Party Decision‑making and Coordination Institutions." The official description is just two sentences: such institutions must plan major matters, discuss major matters, handle major matters, while coordinating without replacing, and be in place without overstepping.
In plain terms, each ministry manages its own area, and when a cross‑departmental major issue arises that no single ministry can handle, the Party Central Committee sets up a table above them, gathers people, sets direction, assigns tasks, and monitors implementation.
Outside sources say that the elders used this shell to set up a special table. The chair was Wen Jiabao, with Li Ruihuan, Zeng Qinghong, Wang Yang, Zhao Leji, Li Qiang on the list, and at that time Xi Jinping himself; Hu Jintao and Zhang Youxia attended when major issues arose. Supposedly the idea came from Wen Jiabao, using existing Party mechanisms and names to revive, in function, the Central Advisory Committee that Deng Xiaoping created for the elders.
The harshness of this move is worth noting. If the elders announced the formation of a committee to handle Xi, that would be an open coup, forcing the whole Party and army to pick sides on the spot. But now it is not just a table; it is built according to a regulation reviewed by the Politburo itself; the name comes from a meeting chaired by Xi, effectively giving him a license to hand over his own power.
After this table was set up, three things happened. First, real decision‑making was moved ahead of formal procedures. Major personnel cases, the military, foreign affairs—all were first settled at this table, then sent to Xi for a single act: signing. After the Fourth Plenary Session of the 10th Central Committee in October 2025, Xi simply withdrew from the institution. Outside commentary says it effectively became the new Party Central Committee.
Second, retired elders were given the keys. The rule is that once retired, a person is no longer a Politburo member and, by procedure, cannot even touch the Standing Committee’s doors. The cadre retirement system was established by Deng Xiaoping; retirement means retirement. But once inside this institution, one could legally sit back at the table as a member. Wen Jiabao and Li Ruihuan—one former premier, one former CPPCC chairman—returned this way.
How valuable are these keys? Last summer in Beidaihe, an outsider reported a grumble from the Zeng Qinghong faction: the institution was dominated by Wen Jiabao and Li Ruihuan, while Zhang Dejiang and Jia Qinglin were not invited, and the relatively junior Wang Yang was invited. If that grumble is reliable, the conservative fight is no longer about acknowledging the table but about who is qualified to sit at it.
Third, the Party, state, and military were split, each with a person overseeing it. Stripping a person of Party and military authority essentially means stripping their document‑issuing and meeting‑calling powers. Yet the General Secretary and the Chairman of the Central Military Commission cannot stop their daily work; documents circulate every day. What to do?
Outside sources say the institution entrusted Wang Yang, a former CPPCC chairman and a veteran of the Hu‑Wen reform camp, to handle the General Secretary’s daily work, with the office located in the General Secretary’s office in Zhongnanhai. It entrusted Liu Yuan, Liu Shaoqi’s son and a senior military figure, to handle the Chairman of the Central Military Commission’s daily work, with the office in the Chairman’s office in the Bayi Building.
What does Xi still have in his hands? Two fronts: foreign affairs arranged by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and propaganda arranged by the Propaganda Department.
Is there any visual evidence for this claim? There is, but it can only be a shadow, not proof. Looking at Xi’s New Year speeches over the years, before 2025 most years he sat in an office‑style backdrop with a bookshelf behind him and a red telephone on the desk. In 2025 and 2026, the backdrop was replaced by an entire Great Wall painting, and the desk was empty.
Xinhua’s line is that the Great Wall is a usual element in his congratulatory messages, just a set design. The outsider reading says the bookshelf, the telephone, and that office disappeared. A single image cannot prove a power transfer, but combined with the claim that Wang Yang sat in the General Secretary’s office, it at least suggests an anomaly. From then on, every New Year’s Eve, that background is worth watching to see whether the bookshelf and telephone return.
So who is qualified to write a verdict for a sitting General Secretary? First, negotiate the wording word‑by‑word at the table chaired by Wen Jiabao, then take it to a Politburo meeting, packaging the secret‑room opinions into an official central proposal. The October Central Committee plenary only handles the final step: a raise‑hand vote and a seal.
Alright, back to the ad and we’ll continue. The two verdict drafts on the table have been known to our program’s friends these past few days: Zeng Qinghong wants a light verdict, Wen Jiabao wants a heavy verdict. Today we’ll read the two versions.
The light‑verdict version is only four lines, essentially a single accounting: illegal re‑election, merits and demerits split three‑to‑seven, copying the language used for Mao Zedong at the time. The people who framed the crime and gave ideas—Cai Qi—do the dirty work, Wang Xiaohong bears the charge. Xi himself gets one line: he bears leadership responsibility, will step down with dignity, retain benefits, and gradually fade from the news broadcast. In the conservatives’ own words, the horse keeps running, the dance keeps dancing.
In the previous episode we explained thoroughly the list of overseas assets worth 20 trillion on the Swiss negotiation table, with the Zeng family, the Jia family, and the Zhang family all on it. Once the liquidation channel opens, the hands chasing the money won’t just audit Xi Jinping’s accounts; after burning Xi Jinping, the fire will reach their own doorstep. So the light‑sentence version of the real clause actually has only one point: flip this page quickly, and no one should audit the ledger.
Wen Jiabao’s heavy‑sentence version, dated October 27, 2023, had Li Keqiang S in Shanghai, S by the pool, only seven months after stepping down as premier. On January 20 this year, Zhang Youxia and Liu Zhenli got into trouble at the Central Party School; on January 24 the Ministry of National Defense announced an investigation. The people involved have disappeared; it is a four‑year‑long, knife‑wielding, organized power grab.
With that characterization, it is not a retirement‑benefits issue, but a criminal matter—court hearings, verdicts, and asset recovery are all indispensable.
Why does Wen Jiabao bite and refuse to loosen his grip? Two layers. The superficial layer is people: Li Keqiang is the successor hand‑picked by Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao, the one they failed to protect. The deeper layer is that Wen Jiabao has never only targeted Xi Jinping. In his last press conference before stepping down in 2012, he said: “If we don’t carry out political system reform, the tragedy of the Cultural Revolution will repeat.” That turned out to be prophetic.
Therefore, in this judgment, the heavy sentence for Xi Jinping is only the first paragraph; the following sections are about rectifying chaos and launching political reform.
Between the two versions sits Hu Jintao, whose principle is consensus before action, unity over liquidation. He even proposed a compromise: seal Li Keqiang’s case and restart it after Xi Jinping’s “S”.
That compromise was overturned by a woman, Li Keqiang’s wife Cheng Hong. The overseas episode covered it in detail: after Li Keqiang’s “S”, she and her daughter were effectively detained, denied permission to travel abroad for a break. Cheng Hong delivered a message to Wen Jiabao and Wang Yang: if the agency does not reopen the investigation, she will take her daughter to the national petition center and publicly expose the case nationwide: unless you also imprison us like Xi, we will be under house arrest.
Wang Yang, Liu Yuan, and Hu Chunhua all stood on her side. Cheng Hong also said, a phrase that circulated abroad for a year: “Don’t let anyone go free.” This is the lightning rod that the light‑sentence version cannot bypass—while the ledger may stay closed, lives cannot be ignored.
The two judgments sit on the table, and Wen Jiabao is not idle. For the light‑sentence version to take effect, three pillars are needed: someone among the elders lobbying for Xi, someone willing to withhold procedural evidence, and money kept abroad as a fallback. Over the past few months, Wen Jiabao has been dismantling these three pillars one by one.
First, the lobbyist Jia Qinglin. It was previously mentioned that he advocated a light sentence for Xi; here we explain why he insists on it. Because the most crucial part of the judgment is not the sentencing column but the first line indicating from which year the accounting starts.
The light‑sentence version counts the account from the 2018 constitutional amendment, at most rolling back to the 20th Party Congress in 2022, which would leave Jia Qinglin untouched since he retired in 2013. But if we follow Wen Jiabao’s framing and label this as an organized power grab, we must answer: how did such a foolish person get promoted to General Secretary back then? Who promoted him?
The overseas narrative has long provided the answer: the conservative faction was overly self‑interested, always thinking a foolish leader would be easier to control. The earliest promoter of Xi Jinping, who escorted him into Zhongnanhai, was Jia Qinglin.
If the accounting starts from 2007, from the operations of the 18th Party Congress, Jia Qinglin is no longer a mere intercessor but the first name on the list of co‑conspirators.
Digging deeper reveals the Xiamen Yuanhua case. Why did Liu Huaqing’s faction and the General Staff Intelligence System pay the price, while the Fujian leader Jia Qinglin rose to the Politburo Standing Committee? Reopening that dossier would implicate more than just him. So Jia Qinglin has never fought for Xi’s sentencing; he fights for the first line of the judgment to start from a specific year.
His trouble is that he lobbies too vigorously. The overseas account says that after the January 20 assassination attempt, Zeng Qinghong fell out with Xi, Zhang Dejiang also turned against him, and the conservative elder faction all distanced themselves from Xi—only Jia Qinglin kept moving, lobbying among the elders, saying Xi has not forgotten his original aspirations, just overstepped a bit. In early June he even went to Xiong’an to give Xi a platform.
Wen Jiabao’s response landed on July 15. His former subordinate, Cai Fuchao, former head of the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television who retired ten years earlier, was arrested. The weight of that move was understood by insiders. The CCP has an unwritten rule: officials who retired ten years ago are generally left untouched. Making an exception signals that the case is not about Cai Fuchao; it is a message to Jia Qinglin: “Your files are also in the hands of the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection; keep lobbying, and the next indictment will bear your name.”
Next, the evidence‑bearer Li Zhanshu. First, his positions: from 2018 to 2023, Li Zhanshu was Chairman of the National People’s Congress. He presided over the constitutional amendment that removed the presidential term limit; the drafting, review, and voting procedures all passed through his hands.
There is also a video the world has seen. On October 22, 2022, at the closing ceremony of the 20th Party Congress, Hu Jintao reached for a folder on the table, and Li Zhanshu, sitting beside him, seized the folder and pulled it away, after which Hu Jintao was escorted out of the venue.
What is in that folder? The outside‑the‑wall claim is that it contains a swapped Politburo roster. Hu Jintao discovered the list had been changed, so he wanted to review it on the spot, and Xi Jinping suddenly intervened and took him away.
Now put these two things together: the full set of amendment procedures and documents, plus the account of how the 20th Congress roster was swapped. This turns the judgment from a late‑life mistake into the complete procedural evidence of an organized illegal power grab.
A 70‑30 split can be written with words alone, but forging procedures and altering the roster requires documents and testimonies, and both are on Li Zhanshu.
Therefore, Wen Jiabao’s approach to Li Zhanshu differs from his approach to Jia Qinglin. Jia Qinglin was warned to shut up; Li Zhanshu was forced to speak.
On June 16, Jiang Hongwei, deputy secretary of the Heilongjiang Provincial Discipline Inspection Commission, fell. Heilongjiang is Li Zhanshu’s stronghold. What is a provincial discipline inspection deputy secretary? He is an insider handling cases in Li’s old base. Removing him cuts off Li’s ears and eyes at home.
On July 9, the battle moved to Guizhou, another province Li once governed. Former chairman of Guizhou Phosphate Group, He Guangliang, was investigated—targeting his economic ledger; the former first‑level inspector of the provincial commission, Rao Yuzhu, was investigated the same day—targeting his political ledger.
On July 24, Heilongjiang issued two double‑opening notices in one day, both old cases filed at the beginning of the year. The penalties were imposed one by one, signaling that the fire had not been extinguished and that even Li’s network was under watch.
The outside‑the‑wall claim says Jiangsu Party Secretary Xin Changxing is his core old subordinate; they still talk on the phone for two or three hours, and that line also appears on the list.
Li Zhanshu’s calculation is easy to guess: hand over the materials and he can be downgraded from the mastermind to a commissioned handler, with the principal offender column in the judgment bearing someone else’s name; refuse to hand them over, and the Heilongjiang and Guizhou notices will keep marching to his doorstep. Wen Jiabao does not need his “S”; he needs him to speak.
Finally, money. The biggest confidence behind a light sentence is the line “the horse keeps running, the dance keeps dancing.” Turn that page, and each household’s ledger lands safely. Yet Wen Jiabao, while talking at the table, shackled the accountants one by one.
Look at the China Securities Regulatory Commission over the past months: March 2025, former disciplinary group leader Wang Huimin was investigated; in April, incumbent vice‑chairman Wang Jianjun was investigated. After 28 years in the system, Caixin reported that there had previously been no rumors about him, shocking the market. On May 1 this year, former chairman Yi Huiman was removed; on July 24, former vice‑chairman Fang Xinghai was directly filed by the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection.
Who is Fang Xinghai? He oversaw international cooperation at the CSRC for nine years, handling the Shanghai‑Shenzhen‑Hong Kong Stock Connect, Chinese‑concept stocks, and foreign capital channels—all passed through his hands. In plain terms, he was the main gate for elite capital going abroad.
In the same July, the State Administration of Foreign Exchange’s inspection department was also handling cases. Reading these actions together, the judgment was not finished when the outbound gate was already welded shut, preventing the day negotiations would break down—money fled before people.
For the faction of Zeng Qinghong, this hurt more than any diplomatic wording. The list of overseas assets worth 20 trillion yuan is in American hands; the outbound gate is in Wen Jiabao’s hands. Turning the page to keep things safe, the things that can be protected are dwindling day by day.
What do the three pillars look like now? The lobbying mouth is blocked by the indictment notice against Cai Fu‑chao; the person holding evidence is being stripped layer by layer by the two provincial notices; the money gate is welded shut. The light‑sentence version still sits on the table, but its foundation has been largely removed.
Do Jia Qinglin and Li Zhanshu still have a choice? Yes. The choice is not whether to help Xi, but which column of the judgment their names appear in.
When the judgment reaches this point, everyone at the table is flipping the same thing: precedent. The CCP has dealt with its former top leaders three times in history, with three different formulations.
The first formulation was written after Mao Zedong’s “S” (removal). Mao died on September 9 1976; it was not until the 11th Plenary Session of the 6th Central Committee on June 1 1981 that the “Resolution on Certain Historical Issues Since the Founding of the People’s Republic of China” was passed—five full years, waiting until the person was completely gone. The Gang of Four were arrested, Hua Guofeng was removed, and Deng Xiaoping, having seized the situation, dared to write the line that Zeng Qinghong now copies verbatim: “Three‑seven‑split of merits and demerits.”
Why not go harsher? Deng Xiaoping, in 1980 before Italian journalist Francesco Falaci, made it clear that Chairman Mao’s portrait must forever remain on the Tiananmen Gate Tower. It was not about missing Mao, but missing the Party. Overthrowing Mao would have burned the Communist family tree.
But to understand the 1981 formula, you must look beyond the resolution to the supporting projects. Before drafting the resolution, a public trial was held. From November 1980 to January 1981, a special tribunal tried the Gang of Four; on TV, Jiang Qing shouted “revolution is innocent,” the verdict was a delayed “S,” completing the craft.
The charges were placed in the anti‑revolutionary group’s basket, letting the living Gang of Four stand trial; the errors were framed as late‑life mistakes, preserving Mao’s portrait; even Mao’s thought was surgically excised. The resolution explicitly stated that Mao Zedong Thought is the crystallization of the Party’s collective wisdom—meaning the thought belongs to everyone, the errors belong to him alone, and the Party’s legitimacy is preserved.
The second version, Hua Guofeng. The characteristic is that nothing is written. Hua Guofeng has no verdict. In September 1980, the Premier handed it over to Zhao Ziyang; in June 1981, the Party Chairman handed it over to Hu Yaobang, demoting him to Vice Chairman. No public trial, no special resolution, the newspapers did not criticize, and in the news this person gradually disappeared.
He retained the title of Central Committee member, which he kept until 2002, and quietly disappeared in 2008. This is the Hua Guofeng model: you resign voluntarily, I do not settle accounts.
But this model has a prerequisite step worth remembering. Before moving him, the first thing to move is not his position, but public opinion. The 1978 practice was the "discussion on the sole criterion for testing truth," ostensibly about philosophy, but in practice it removed his two "whatever" banners. Hua Guofeng’s brilliant leadership was praised until all power was emptied.
The third version, Zhao Ziyang, classified but not tried. In June 1989, the 13th Party Congress’s Fourth Plenary Session classified Zhao Ziyang: supporting turmoil and splitting the Party at a critical moment. After classification? No trial, no sentencing, no resolution. He was locked away in the courtyard of the Prosperity Lane for sixteen years, the case forever pending. In January 2005 he disappeared, Xinhua News Agency posted a brief obituary, and the whole Party weighed for half a day whether to give the comrade two characters or not.
This is the darkest version: the verdict never appears on paper, the person remains a perpetual hostage.
Now, take these three old dossiers and apply them to today. The light sentencing of Zeng Qinghong that you see now is not a new plan; it is simply copying the 1981 formula: Cai Qi, Wang Xiaohong, Chen Xi placed in a basket, the four‑person gang of that era; Xi Jinping himself split into late‑life errors, a 3‑7 split. The formula is ready, but one component does not match.
Mao’s 3‑7 split was written for a person to be eliminated. Today Xi Jinping is alive, only 73 years old. The heavy sentencing version that Wen Jiabao wants is exactly the opposite problem. Scouring the three dossiers, there is no precedent. In the CCP’s more than a hundred‑year history, no trial has ever been held for a living former top leader.
When the Gang of Four were tried, none of them had ever been Party chief. Wen Jiabao’s request is akin to writing a fourth type of verdict, a type no one has ever written. Hence the October plenary kept being postponed—not because the article is hard to write, but because once this step is taken, the Party history cannot be taken back.
The verdict has not been set, but if you pay attention to the newspapers, you’ll see someone already drafting it. On June 15, the national Party building work symposium deployed a new term, "Xi Jinping’s Party‑building Thought." On June 17, the People’s Daily front page positioned it as the Party‑building chapter of Xi Jinping’s Thought on Socialism with Chinese Characteristics for a New Era. On July 24, the theory edition ran a full‑page article "The Major Contemporary Value of Xi Jinping’s Party‑building Thought." The Military Daily serialized it, and Li Xi, while on local investigation, also mentioned the term.
There are two ways to read this, both still only speculative. One reading: this adds a new layer, raising his theoretical status another level. The other reading: recall the 1981 surgical cut to Mao Zedong Thought: thought is collective, error is individual. Cutting out a Party‑building slot from the all‑encompassing hat covering Party, state, army, and society, and setting it up as a separate plaque—doesn’t that look like technical preparation for a verdict?
In the future, whatever classification is made, something will always remain on the plaque. Which reading is correct will be clear in October. Look at where these seven characters appear in the report of the Fifth Plenum.
There is another change that shows the timing better than newspaper wording: Beidaihe. Last summer, the external‑wall information circle was filled with who went to Beidaihe, who was networking, and which conservatives were pushing who to succeed. Rumors spread that Hu Jintao had warned that if the chaos continued, Beidaihe would become a second Party Central Committee; rumors that Wen Jiabao had harsh words, wanting to bring the networking elders together into Qin City. From July to August, one phase after another read like battle reports.
This year? The same source, flipped to today, leaves only one sentence about Beidaihe: In August, elders used the Beidaihe vacation to discuss how to classify Xi Jinping.
This contrast is the footnote to the whole situation this year. Last year Beidaihe was a battlefield—where it would be held, who qualified to go, was itself a power struggle; this year there is no battle to fight. Regarding military power, the rank‑granting ceremony on July 3 already collected the officials, the table moved back to Beijing, to Wen Jiabao’s team’s meeting room.
Beidaihe has dropped from a duel arena to a signing room. The verdict was written in Beijing, taken to the seaside in August, and read to everyone.
None of the three precedents fit, and no one dares to write the fourth type. This is the most realistic stalemate in Beijing this summer.
At this point, the three opening questions have answers. Where is the verdict written? Not on the Party Constitution table, but in Wen Jiabao’s team’s meeting room. What is Jia Qinglin fighting for? The year in the first line, so the account doesn’t fall on his head. What can Li Zhanshu hand over? The documents that turn errors into a power‑seizure narrative.
Only the last page remains blank, the classification column—write Hua Guofeng or write the fourth type? In the coming weeks, you don’t need any analysis, just watch four things.
First, the Politburo meeting at the end of July, whether it announces the date of the Fifth Plenum. If announced, the verdict is settled; if not, the stalemate continues.
Second, whether Jia Qinglin still shows up, which is the wind direction on the table.
Third, the two names in the hands of the National People's Congress. This year the NPC removed the representative qualifications of more than a dozen members of the Xi family’s military clique, but Zhang Youxia and Liu Zhenli have had their cases filed for half a year, and their representative qualifications remain pending. When they are finally removed, or conversely when they are reinstated, the verdict will be set.
Fourth, in the October Fifth Plenum report, where will the seven characters "Xi Jinping's Party-building Thought" be placed—on a separate plaque, or raised into the main hall?
Therefore, at the October plenary session, it is highly likely that an unprecedented scene in the history of the Chinese Communist Party will occur: the defendant himself sitting on the podium, listening to the reading of his own verdict, and then raising his hand to lead the applause.
When that day comes, look back at this issue. To the friends reading this, please give a like and subscribe. On the day the verdict is written, we will continue the analysis.