The Unwanted Candidate, 360,000 Volunteers! How Did Shen Boyang Close a 28-Point Gap to 4? Olson's Calculus, the 0-32 Defeat in the Great Recall, Exporting a Network, Shen Boyang as Coach Rather Than Savior, Kevin Tsai and Lo Ta-yu Expose the Cross-Strait Civilizational Gap, What the CCP Fears Most: Strangers Banding Together!

This episode dives deep into the political phenomenon of Taipei mayoral candidate Puma Shen closing the gap from 28 percentage points behind to just 4 points, exploring how 360,000 volunteers broke through traditional political mobilization via a decentralized organizational network. Combining Olson's "The Logic of Collective Action" to analyze the costs and benefits of grassroots self-organization, the episode compares the personal halo effects of Han Kuo-yu and Ko Wen-je, and reveals the generational divide in cross-strait political civilization through the remarks and experiences experienced by Kevin Tsai and Lo Tayou.

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Observing things as they are, rejecting fragmented perceptions. Today, let's talk about the ocean current. Actually, this phenomenon has been going on for quite a while, but I haven't spoken about it yet because I've been observing Taiwan's politics and wanting to see what kind of freaks and monsters would appear during the Taipei mayoral election campaign. In fact, ever since October, the ocean current has begun spreading all across Taiwan. This is truly a rare political sample for Taiwan. Aren't you people shocked at all? Taipei has a total population of around 2.5 million, and nearly 180,000 Taipei citizens are members of the ocean current group. If you include those outside Taipei, that's a total of 360,000 people. This is no longer just awesome; it is way too fucking awesome. Let's look at how the ocean current was formed. Actually, back in May when Puma Shen was just pushed out to run for Taipei mayor, in the TVBS poll approval ratings, he was at 30 percent, while Chiang Wan-an had 58 percent approval at the time. That means Chiang Wan-an was leading him by a full 28 percentage points back then. None of the high-profile figures in the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) were willing to take on the Taipei mess. After all, Taipei is known as the Kuomintang's iron stronghold, and that's no joke. I remember the name ocean current wasn't even coined by Puma Shen himself; it was some people on the Kuomintang side who mocked him. Hey, I forgot who said it, but they said Puma Shen coming out would only stir up trouble and help the Kuomintang—like an ocean current. That's how the term ocean current came to be, and as a result, it became a self-fulfilling prophecy, except in the opposite direction. Look at that remaining high energy, after shaking hands with that fucking party chairman, right? As a result, five months passed, and the gap in the TVBS polls shrank from 28 points down to 4 points. You have to hand it to him: when the party chairman inside the system shakes hands with his fucking brother, he doesn't shake hands in vain. Shaking hands twice this year with the old brick, hey, you let the people inside the system communicate with the old brick. Although the old brick might not necessarily be willing to pay attention to him, they can use their private identity to cook up some earth-shattering victims' alliance or something. That alliance has quite a few people now. Let me come back to my point. Through observation, I discovered a very interesting thing: the ocean current wasn't actually created by Puma Shen himself. It was a group of ordinary Taiwanese citizens who organized themselves, and Puma Shen was merely the catalyst for this team. This is precisely what the Chinese Communist Party least wants people to understand. Let's mark the time: the day I'm writing this draft is October 14, and the voting in Taipei is on October 28. I very much hope Puma Shen will win. The polls and vote counts I use in this episode are public data, and everyone can check them yourself. To understand how the ocean current is different, we first have to compare it with the previous two waves. It's not the first time Taiwan has experienced an election craze of this scale; for example, Han Kuo-yu back in 2018. At that time, he was also parachuted into Kaohsiung, where the Kuomintang hadn't won in 20 years, yet he stubbornly won 890,000 votes and was elected mayor. Taiwan called that wave the Han wave, and everyone knows what happened afterward. Just in June 2020, Kaohsiung citizens used 939,000 affirmative votes to recall Han Kuo-yu. The votes to recall him were even more than 40,000 higher than the votes that got him elected, and the craze instantly broke up and scattered. Let's look at Ko Wen-je. He is a surgeon by training, served as the mayor of Taipei for eight years, and set up a party of his own called the Taiwan People's Party, specifically recruiting whom? Specifically recruiting voters who opposed both the Kuomintang and the DPP. However, in March of this year, Ko Wen-je was sentenced to 17 years in the first instance. Polls by National Chengchi University in Taiwan show that identification with the Taiwan People's Party dropped from a peak of 14.3 percent in 2023 to 8.8 percent in the first half of this year. Everyone sees this characteristic, right? What were the previous crazes like? They were entirely centered around a single politician, with the basic setup being that the politician painted a big picture on stage, and voters in the audience cast ballots and watched the show. You couldn't say they didn't know each other, but basically they weren't particularly close either. And the result? As soon as that politician crashed and burned, the supporters instantly scattered on the spot. But the ocean current is completely the opposite—it was entirely spread by netizens from the bottom up. Didn't the Kuomintang use this ocean current to mock him? Young people in Taiwan collectively picked up this meme online and stubbornly turned a derogatory nickname into a cheering slogan. Actually, the very first batch of orange ocean current signs were designed and printed by supporters themselves. Puma Shen's team lagged a full six days behind to come out with this merchandise. Even Puma Shen himself said that the ocean current came first, and he came second. Therefore, the main focus we want to talk about today is not Puma Shen's personal charm—though Puma Shen is extremely intelligent, rational, and logical, there is no doubt about that. I've watched his street debates and interviews. So what I want to talk about today is the current political orientation of the Taiwanese public, and why a bunch of ordinary people who don't know each other would be willing to pay out of their own pockets and spend their own time to volunteer for an election? Actually, someone calculated this ledger long ago, and this person was extremely awesome: a famous American economist named Mancur Olson. But the pity is that he died relatively young, passing away in his sixties. Olson published three books, and you could say every single one of them is a masterpiece: The Logic of Collective Action, The Rise and Decline of Nations, and Power and Prosperity. These three books are all awesome, and everyone should go read them. If Mancur Olson were still alive, the Nobel Prize in Economics would truly be within easy grasp.

In the 1965 book "The Logic of Collective Action" written by Mancur Olson, this exact calculation is analyzed. Now, let's make an assumption: suppose you are an office worker in Taipei, and you really want to change the mayor. Someone calls for people to take to the streets for four hours on a Saturday afternoon. Hey, will you go? The calculation in an average person's mind should be like this: "Hey, if I go, it doesn't necessarily mean they will win. If I don't go, someone else will surely go. But if they really win, I will enjoy the benefits just the same, so why shouldn't I just lie at home? Right?" If everyone calculates like this, there might not be a single person on the street. Olson's conclusion is very interesting and also very counterintuitive: the more people a cause seems to involve, the less likely anyone is to actually do the work, unless there is a specific benefit that can only be obtained by those who actually put in the effort. How did Taiwan's elections get people on the streets in the past? The old method was called "zhuangjiao" (local brokers), which refers to the role of pulling in heads for candidates at the local level. They also double as the heads of logistics teams, responsible for chartering vans and distributing bento boxes. Within party factions, there are actually quotas assigned based on headcounts. This method is still a mainstream approach in today's Taiwanese politics. Just at the end of September, Chiang Wan-an's camp released an official document from the DPP's Taipei City Chapter, stating that a campaign rally had a hard quota of 5,300 people. Hey, which level of cadre needs to bring how many people was written clearly and explicitly. Surely someone will want to argue: "Hey, doesn't this prove that the 'Ocean Current' (Yangliu) is just an artificial wave?" Don't be impatient; I will discuss this argument thoroughly later. For now, let's just remember this number: 5,300. To be honest, 5,300 isn't even a fraction of 360,000. So where did the rest of the people come from?

Hey, it relied on a different set of methods. This method doesn't ask voters for an entire afternoon; it is very, very specific—specific to the point that voters only need to claim a section of the road and stay at their designated spot when the motorcade passes by. That's specific enough, right? And what else? It's about bringing a friend who hasn't made up their mind yet. There are also some small tasks, such as scanning a QR code or writing down your opinion on Taipei; these are the kinds of small favors that you can't really refuse. Hey, it's this kind of "a radish for every hole" (a place for everyone) very simple and down-to-earth tactic, and its effect is very obvious. Why? Because if no one is standing guard at the intersection that the voter claimed, it will be exposed at a glance. Trying to be lazy and hoping someone else will fill in is simply not going to work. Hey, once you arrive at the scene, wear that beautiful orange shirt, stroll through the music festival, play with some anime memes, and take a photo with Puma Shen to post online—all your acquaintances can see it, and it's very prestigious, right? If you don't go, you have nothing to show off, and you don't have to spend a single penny. This is exactly the "exclusive benefit" that Olson talked about, delivered effectively. Of course, there are also those very, very hardcore supporters, so this is an incremental development line. When was this method first successfully executed? It was on Tuesday evening, August 18th. Note that it wasn't a weekend. That day, Puma Shen went to the Ningxia Night Market in Taipei to canvass for votes. More than a hundred people were queuing up for photos, and it took more than half an hour to walk a 200-meter road. Supporters held up the orange signs they made themselves, everyone had a mobile phone in their hand, and because it was very late at the time, Puma Shen's team asked the attendees to keep quiet as much as possible so as not to disturb the residents. Although there were many people at the scene, it wasn't noisy at all. Actually, my own management ability is very, very poor, so I deeply admire people with strong organizational skills. Compared to organizing such events, I am better at dealing with data. Let me get back to the point: there is a social data company in Taiwan called Q Search. Their statistics show that in the week before the night market event, they monitored an average of only four mentions of "Ocean Current" (Yangliu) per day. On the second day after the night market, it was 274 mentions, which is roughly a 68-fold increase overnight. Looking further back, it's even more interesting. From May to early August this year, the term "Ocean Current" averaged less than one mention per day. For the entire month of July, it was zero. Puma Shen's team tried to call for it once in June, but no one picked up the slack, meaning it had no effect. Actually, I really think that if the fermentation of the "Ocean Current" event organization isn't studied, it's a huge loss. See? The "Ocean Current" didn't come with a halo from the start; it resonated with Puma Shen's personal ability, organizational methods, and media dissemination. At first, Puma Shen's own team couldn't get anyone to move either; it started with supporters making signs and posting photos themselves. The team only reacted six days later to start selling merchandise. Therefore, seed supporters are a very, very important foundation, and this is the most precious thing that money cannot buy. Then, the operational capability of Puma Shen's team is quite strong; they transformed a losing proposition into a venture that costs little, gets noticed, and is actually quite fun. Hey, once the calculation changes like this, people show up.

So, someone might ask, no matter how small your method is, you have to find the first batch of people, right? On the internet, these are called seed users. Where did those hundred-plus people at the Ningxia Night Market come from? This is a very, very good question. This requires looking back at a crushing defeat. Does anyone still remember the major recall movement in Taiwan last year? Puma Shen was the most prominent figure in it at the time. Actually, the recall process in Taiwan is a task with a very, very high threshold. Why? Because the law stipulates that you must collect signatures equivalent to 10% of the total number of voters in a legislator's electoral district, and the signatures must include their ID numbers. Volunteers have to hold signs and stand at street corners for months, standing for several hours a day. Taipei has eight legislative districts, and five of them actually reached the threshold. I did a rough calculation: there are about 2 million voters in Taipei, and the five districts account for about 1.25 million; multiplying that by 10% gives a starting point of 120,000. This is just the bottom line based on the legal threshold. And the result? Last summer, in two rounds of voting, 32 recall cases were held, and not a single one passed—zero for 32. Logically, after such a miserable defeat, these volunteers should have disbanded long ago, right? So why didn't they? I personally think it has to do with the failed major recall movement. It can be said that what was forged over those few months is more valuable than anything else. Look at what this activity contributed: it brought together a group of people who didn't know each other, and now they know who lives in which neighborhood, who is in charge of which street, who can design graphics, and who can canvass for votes. Although the recall didn't succeed, this network of volunteers remained. But having a network isn't enough, because after losing a battle, the biggest fear isn't that people won't accept the result; on the contrary, the biggest fear is that morale will collapse. But what did Puma Shen do at the time? On the very next day after the recall votes were counted—when the failure was announced—Puma Shen stood up and took all the blame himself, meaning the volunteers didn't need to reflect; he was the one who needed to reflect. When the leader doesn't shift the blame, if you don't support such a big brother, are you going to support some idiot of a lackey? Excuse me, Emperor You Xi is an idiot, I'm used to that. This is the greatest source of seed supporters, which is Puma Shen's character. More importantly, the major recall movement clearly explained what it meant. Look, what was the purpose of the major recall? To pull down those KMT legislators. By doing this, the KMT's supporters were all forced out to protect their own legislators, which was equivalent to doing a round of mobilization for the opponent for free. So this time, the 'Ocean Current' (Yangliu) is doing everything in reverse: they don't scold people, they don't play the victim, they just wear orange clothes and hold this music festival. See? The gameplay has been completely iterated. At this point, the answer from the control group is clear. Han Kuo-yu and Ko Wen-je rely on personal charisma, but when the big boss falls, the people disperse. The 'Ocean Current' was forged from a lost battle; although the battle was lost, the people are still there. There is a saying—I forget if it was Zhu Di or someone else who said it—'If you gain the land but lose the people, what is the use of holding the land? If you preserve the people but lose the land, the people can still recover.' Puma Shen has a bit of that spirit.

However, some people still have votes to grab. In everyone's impression, Taipei is an ironclad stronghold of the Kuomintang (KMT), right? But when I checked the data, it doesn't seem to be the case. Let's look at the vote counts: in the previous Taipei mayoral election in 2022, Chiang Wan-an received 575,590 votes, with a vote share of 42.29%. Meanwhile, Chen Shih-chung of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) got 434,558 votes, and Huang Shan-shan, running mate of Ko Wen-je, got 342,000 votes. Adding 435,000 and 342,000 gives 777,000. In other words, those who did not support the KMT outnumbered those who did by 200,000 votes. Now, after Ko Wen-je was sentenced to ten years, Huang Shan-shan's 342,000 votes have become ownerless. The United Daily News once conducted a poll specifically asking Taiwan People's Party (TPP) supporters: 55% of the voters shifted to Puma Shen (Shen Pao-yang), while 38% shifted to Chiang Wan-an. Furthermore, the United Daily News is a KMT-leaning newspaper. Alright, let's do the math in our heads: 55% minus 38% equals 17%. 34.2 multiplied by 0.17 is approximately 58,000. In the last election, Chiang Wan-an beat Chen Shih-chung by 141,000 votes. 141,000 minus 58,000 leaves a gap of 83,000 votes. These 83,000 votes can only be squeezed out of Chiang Wan-an's own base of traditional voters—every single vote squeezed away means one less vote for Chiang and, correspondingly, one more vote for Puma Shen. That's a swing of two votes back and forth. Therefore, 83,000 divided by 2 is about 40,000 voters, plus the possibility that the pan-green camp might also lose some of its own base. In other words, as long as about 10% of the voters who chose Chiang last time can be poached—roughly 50,000 to 60,000 people—the election can be flipped. Remember this number, 50,000 to 60,000. Earlier, I mentioned that the crew members of the ocean current are about 360,000 people; Puma Shen's fans are called crew members. But the crew members are not all locals of Taipei; Taipei citizens account for about half, which is 360,000 multiplied by 0.5, roughly 180,000. That means out of 180,000 people, to sway 50,000 to 60,000, it requires an average of every three crew members to persuade one person who voted for Chiang last time. That's why the ocean current assigned everyone the task of bringing a friend—this is an approach based on task breakdown, essentially applying the communication funnel principle. No matter what, everyone brings a friend first, and even if the conversion rate is only 30%, it's almost meeting the target. So this is not just a slogan; this is a standard solution to this arithmetic problem. If you just rely on shouting by yourself, screaming your lungs out will only get you those 180,000. Only when acquaintances pull each other one by one can you reach those 50,000 to 60,000. So, has the pulling happened or not? That United Daily News poll said that 18% of Chiang Wan-an's traditional voters have already turned to Puma Shen—well, they have already crossed that line. The most severe loosening is among female voters. In June this year, Shanshui Research showed that 55.7% of women supported Chiang Wan-an, while only 26.9% supported Puma Shen. By the time of the United Daily News poll, this had changed to 47% for Puma Shen and 38% for Chiang Wan-an. However, the polls measured by TVBS and an organization called ET Today both show Chiang Wan-an leading, which doesn't match this 18%. So where is the line? I can tell you, but whether it has crossed the line or not, we will have to wait for the vote counting on November 28 to find out. This calculation is just an estimate of mine. Once people have a deficit in votes, you emerge.

So why on earth was it Puma Shen who caught this team? What is the real difference between him and other Taiwanese politicians? In my opinion, it boils down to one thing: other politicians all play the role of a savior, while only Puma Shen acts as a coach. He hasn't been in the Democratic Progressive Party for very long, probably only two or three years. You could say he belongs to the category of political nobodies within the party—no factions, no local networks, and certainly no particularly awesome, core political resources, so he can only rely on volunteers. But more centrally, his approach is completely the opposite of traditional Taiwanese politicians. Let's lay them out for comparison, and it will become clear. What was Ko Wen-je shouting back then? Ko Wen-je shouted that he was sick to death of the Blue and Green camps, so just vote for me, this doctor. Han Kuo-yu shouted that Kaohsiung was old and poor, and following him would make you super rich. President Tsai Ing-wen played the anti-Communist card regarding Hong Kong in 2020; hey, the Chinese Communist Party is actually the DPP's biggest vote-getter, there's nothing wrong with that, right? Moreover, President Tsai's slogan was to safeguard Taiwan for everyone. The words might be different, but the structure is identical, meaning what? Ah, give me the votes, and I'll handle the rest. But Puma Shen has been doing the complete opposite kind of work from start to finish. What is he best at? It's taking a massive, difficult problem and breaking it down into small tasks, and then guiding ordinary people hand-in-hand to do it together. Take a look at the career distribution in Taiwan's political scene: Chiang Wan-an comes from a legal background, while Ko Wen-je and Lai Ching-te both come from medical backgrounds. The professional habit of lawyers and doctors is: don't you worry about it, leave it to me to handle. Only Puma Shen is a university professor who started out as a cram school star teacher. A teacher's instinct is to break down steps and teach you to do it with your own hands. For example, when he ran that Kuma Academy, he broke down things in a war into what? He broke down things in a war into learning how to pack a tourniquet and carrying an evacuation pack. Organizing a recall campaign was broken down into collecting signatures on the streets one by one, and running for mayor was broken down into getting to know a section of a road and pulling in a friend. In recent years, ordinary people in Taiwan have had the CCP's military aircraft circling Taiwan on the outside, and the Legislative Yuan arguing like hell every day on the inside. Actually, everyone is bursting with anger, but they just can't exert their strength, leaving a kind of, kind of sense of powerlessness. When chatting with Taiwanese friends, I often hear this kind of expression of powerlessness. But what did Puma Shen do? He broke a grand theme down into a transactional task, which is just too awesome.

However, having said that, I must pour some cold water, hey, and finish carrying that unlifted pole from earlier. Up to this point, can Puma Shen be said to have locked in a steady win? That's really hard to say. There are at least three hard hurdles right in front of him. First is what? Street momentum does not equal a turnaround of the grassroots base. Although the DPP had a mobilization official document for 5,300 people, 35,000 people actually stood up in the motorcade parade in real life, and this rallying power was extremely fierce. But the problem is that half of those 360,000 crew members do not live in Taipei, and they don't have the voting right for the Taipei mayor in their hands. But looking at the Kuomintang, these folks have at least deeply cultivated Taipei for decades, holding ward chiefs, community associations, and ironclad votes in their hands. These people probably don't surf the internet much on ordinary days, let alone make a sound like this. So if this silent majority comes out in full force on voting day, that will be the real hard battle. Second is the polling conflict, mainly because today's Taiwanese youth don't like to vote and find it troublesome. Then the polling data really, fucking really conflict with each other. From Puma Shen leading by 17.3 points to Chiang Wan-an leading by 8.8 points, there is a full 26-point difference between the two; is this fucking statistical thing about the same event? I really get a headache looking at Taiwan's polling data. Besides, the demographic that listens to Puma Shen the most is around twenty years old on average, all youngsters. Not only is their voter turnout the lowest, but even nearly 60% of them feel that Chiang Wan-an will win in the end. Third, Chiang Wan-an's foundation is not weak at all; his current municipal approval rating is still 55%, so Taipei's young people still need to vote more. I just don't have a ballot in my hand, otherwise even if I had to take a dozen hours of a plane ride, I would go back to cast this vote. I haven't even seen what a ballot in Chinese looks like, which is also rather sad to say. But it can be said that for an election battle in Taipei to be fought like this, from not many people being optimistic about it at the beginning to being fought like this, it is truly, really fierce.

And then the ocean current effect spilled over. Although it is hard to say who the mayor belongs to now, there are two others in this election with Puma Shen. The protagonists of the two cities are Mr. Kevin Tsai and that fucking idiot Lo Ta-yu. I have to say, why the fuck is this guy Lo Ta-yu getting more and more of an asshole as he gets older? What is up with this old geezer? Can't he sing anymore, so winning has turned into fucking losing? Damn, a guy who gets more twisted with age. From Kevin Tsai and Lo Ta-yu, everyone can see the level of political civilization between the two countries, China and Taiwan. As a host, Kevin Tsai just sat in that factory during such a major social event, and the result was his Weibo being wiped clean, his endorsements cut instantly, and he had to apologize to the brand. Conversely, look at Lo Ta-yu, who has been thoroughly marinated in Beijing; he went on Tang Hsiang-lung's show and ranted wildly against the Taiwan government. It's fine to curse the president or the premier, but at least have some basic common sense, right? Talking that bullshit about how President Tsai doesn't know how to take care of the next generation because she hasn't given birth—there are plenty of dictators on this planet who have fathered hordes of illegitimate children, like the Kim family in North Korea, the Saddam regime, and the likes of Gaddafi, and I haven't seen them care much about the next generation of their people either. On the contrary, Lo Ta-yu himself was nearly sixty when he finally had a daughter through artificial insemination, and he immediately used his reputation as a moral cudgel to beat others. If you apply that to your master, the CCP, it's even more convenient. In the entire educational reputation, they've fucking skipped the next generation, so there's no need to know how to take care of them, you stinking idiot. And what's this about the Taiwan government being a dictatorship? Hey, if that's the case, why don't you swap the subject you're cursing with Xi Jinping or the CCP and see if you can still jump around there? That is what you call a dictatorship; it's truly embarrassing, like a donkey pulling a millstone in circles.

Look at Kevin Tsai again; as a host, he just showed up at Puma Shen's event, and the brands with a presence in China were so scared that, before the CCP even made a peep, the brands cut ties themselves. Hey, low-level authority relies on police to arrest people, but what does high-level domestication rely on? High-level domestication relies on cutting yourself off before the government even speaks. Because the CCP's red line is intentionally drawn very vaguely, everyone has to self-censor according to the standard of a death sentence. Conversely, in Taiwan, no matter how fucking absurd Lo Ta-yu's rants are, public power has to endure it and cover for it. The real gap in political civilization is not first about whether you can tolerate people telling the truth, but whether you can tolerate fools saying stupid things without having to lose everything. What is a deeper generational gap? A deeper generational gap is not whether you can curse your mother, but whether strangers can band together. Look at the chart below: organizing a list of 360,000 people, fundraising to print towels, teaching how to stop bleeding and take refuge—in Taipei, this is called daily civic life. Move that inside the Great Firewall, and every single step is illegal. What kind of case would the Chongqing police even file? This is ironclad proof. In fact, the thousands of years of autocratic techniques in China can be condensed into one sentence: it is to break living people into a pile of loose sand, only allowing you to have a single-line connection with the imperial court, and absolutely forbidding you from holding hands horizontally. And the foundation of modern political civilization is precisely for public power to take a step back and return horizontal collective rights to ordinary people. This is not a difference in the details of a system; it is a generational gap between an entire species of domesticated subjects and modern citizens.

Finally, let's wrap up. Who will win on November 28th? Let's wait for the vote count. But regardless of who wins, those fucking idiots in the CCP looking at these 360,000 people in Taipei definitely don't have that kind of imagination. Think about it, what the CCP fears least is politicians who can be united by money, nor do they fear keyboard warriors cursing, as pulling the internet cable can stop them. What they truly fear in their dreams is precisely this skill that the Taiwanese people have just mastered, which looks very, very eerie to the CCP. You don't even need a big idiot; a group of strangers just needs to exchange a code, pull up a spreadsheet, and they can quickly form a formation on the street. And last year, even after losing zero to thirty-two and getting their skin peeled off, they didn't disband. The CCP doesn't even have this skill now. And once this skill of horizontal networking is refined to its core, can't the other side use it too? Adapt to local conditions, make a social connection manual, and throw it at the other side—see if these grandsons of the CCP can still sleep at night. Anyway, my position is very clear: I hope Puma Shen wins. If Puma Shen can become the President of Taiwan in the future, Emperor You Xi would probably have a fucking cerebral hemorrhage.