Hu Liren, born in 1967 in Shangyu, Zhejiang — one of China’s wealthiest rural areas — rode the wave of China’s economic reform and opening up in the 1980s. He became a thriving industrialist in Shanghai. But in September 2018, he left everything behind and fled to the United States.
The turning point that led to America
The immediate reason for Hu Liren’s decision to leave China began with a counterfeit goods incident in 2016. His company purchased counterfeit products, resulting in significant financial loss. When he approached the local government to file a complaint, he was met with blatant arrogance: officials admitted that their area produced counterfeit goods and told him not to buy their products again. They informed him he would have to bear all his losses himself. “If you come back to complain,” they warned, “we will arrest you.”
Hu Liren sought advice from a friend who worked within the Shanghai court system. His friend told him: “Don’t bother appealing. You won’t succeed. The local government will not resolve this issue for you. If you keep appealing, they will arrest you.” Faced with such a stark choice, he decided to leave his homeland and seek refuge in America.
A childhood shaped by persecution
In a recent interview, Hu Liren spoke about his unusual journey of awakening. His grandfather and grandmother were labeled “landlords,” a term used by the Communist Party to classify those who were considered too wealthy. The family was placed into the “Five Black Categories” — landlords, rich peasants, counter-revolutionaries, bad elements, and rightists. Hu Liren explained that the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) sought to confiscate land and wealth from the common people by branding them as members of a “landlord class,” turning ordinary citizens into targets of political persecution.
During the Land Reform campaign of 1950-51, his family’s property was confiscated, and his grandparents were forced to sweep the streets every morning at dawn, regardless of the weather. His grandfather was beaten so severely that he died from internal injuries several years later.
Hu Liren was raised by his grandmother and recalls that almost every year, there was a new political campaign. Each time, his grandmother would be publicly criticized as if she had committed terrible deeds. In truth, his grandparents had done many good things, but simply because they were labeled as the “exploiting class,” they were subjected to these humiliations.
Family tragedies and a 10-year-old’s awakening
Hu Liren’s granduncle, who had joined the Nationalist Party early on and served as a captain in the military police, chose to stay in mainland China to care for his aging mother when the Nationalists retreated to Taiwan in 1948. Meanwhile, his great-aunt joined the Communist Party in the 1940s and became the first head of the Public Security Bureau in Yuyao County in 1949. She reported her brother’s past role as a Nationalist military police captain, leading to his 20-year imprisonment.
When he was finally released from prison, Hu Liren’s granduncle found that his wife and children were separated and his family had been destroyed. His wife had remarried in order to survive, but eventually committed suicide due to continual mistreatment, and their son wandered homeless for 20 years.
Hu Liren said he became aware of many things by the age of 10. His relatives’ tragic experiences made him realize: “After joining the Communist Party, you may lose your humanity and become like a demon.”
Challenging the narrative
Another incident left a deep impression on Hu Liren. In January 1976, when Premier Zhou Enlai died, many people mourned him. Hu Liren’s father told him: “Zhou Enlai’s historical role may be rewritten in the future. The Zhou Enlai you know now is not the real Zhou Enlai. These people are paying homage to him because they do not understand politics.” This made Hu Liren realize that the propaganda they were constantly exposed to and the education they received might not be true.
While practicing calligraphy, Hu Liren would often recite: “Long live Chairman Mao.” His grandmother once told him: “You can say this outside, but don’t say it at home.” He thought: “Oh, the CCP is the reason we were labeled as ‘landlords’ and oppressed.” From a young age, he developed a strong aversion to the Communist Party.
As a result, during his elementary and middle school years, Hu Liren never wore the red scarf of the Young Pioneers, nor did he join the Communist Youth League or the Communist Party.
A life shaped by unfiltered truth
When Hu Liren reached adulthood, his parents made an effort to tell him true stories about history, such as the many people executed during the Land Reform who were innocent. In the anti-rightist movement of the 1950s and 60s, many of their neighbors were labeled as rightists and persecuted. Eventually, when the government reversed these verdicts, all they got was a rehabilitation certificate.
The persecution endured by his family and the historical accounts his parents shared gave Hu Liren a profound understanding of the Communist Party, leading him to see its true nature.
Breaking away from the system
Hu Liren noted: “Every movement of the Communist Party is actually about eliminating some of the best people — people with conscience, people with culture, people who are awakened, and people who tell the truth.”
In the early 1990s, China had no Internet, and people were unaware of the outside world. Hu Liren became part of China’s first generation to engage in Internet businesses in 1997, gaining access to information that many others could not see.
In 1999, Hu Liren was appointed managing director of a company in Shanghai, a subsidiary of the Hong Kong-listed company Tom.com, in which Hong Kong’s richest man, Li Ka-shing, had a 51 percent stake, and China’s Ministry of Public Security held the other 49 percent. Hu Liren frequently interacted with Public Security officials.
A challenging moral decision
Hu Liren vividly remembers an interview with a young woman applying for a position in his company. During the interview, she said: “I want to tell you something. Do you know Falun Gong?”
She went on to explain that she and her parents were Falun Gong practitioners. They lived near the South Mall in Shanghai, and her father had recently been arrested. The police were now questioning her and her mother.
Hu Liren, always busy with work, was shocked by what he heard. He had not known that the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) had begun its crackdown on Falun Gong, a spiritual practice that had spread widely since 1992, with its exercise music once echoing across the country. The woman told him it had been a few months since the crackdown began, and both she and her mother had lost their jobs.
“I urgently need this job,” she continued, “but I have to be clear with you — I am a Falun Gong practitioner.”
Hu Liren responded honestly: “The Ministry of Public Security owns 49 percent of the company’s shares, and many of our staff are retired police officers or have been sent here by the Ministry. I don’t mind hiring you, but it poses a significant risk for you. If someone finds out, what will happen if they arrest you?”
Recalling the scene, Hu Liren said: “The young woman was very honest! It was the first time I had met a Falun Gong practitioner face to face.”
He described her as very polite. She thanked him and said: “Then I can’t work in this place.” She left, looking dejected.
Reflecting on this moment, Hu Liren became emotional, with tears of admiration glistening in his eyes. “I have been recalling this scene for so many years,” he said.
A disillusionment that led to his departure
A few months later, another troubling incident occurred in the company. Li Ka-shing had invested US$60 million into the Internet company, and the employees, many of whom were highly skilled computer experts, were well-compensated. As CEO, Hu Liren received daily reports from the technical department. But one day, unexpectedly, no one came to report to him. He called Bill, the head of the technical department, to find out what was happening.
Bill explained: “Mr. Hu, you don’t know? No one informed you! We’ve been reassigned by another manager to hack into the Falun Gong website.”
Hu Liren was shocked. “How could this happen without my knowledge?” he exclaimed. “I came to this company for business, not for political purposes. If you hack into other people’s websites, you’re becoming a criminal. This isn’t something we should be doing!”
He confronted a female deputy general manager named Guan Jian, leading to a heated conflict. A little over a month later, Hu Liren decided to leave the company.
Reflecting on this period, he realized the deeper implications. Wu Zhiming, the director of the Shanghai Public Security Bureau, was the nephew of Jiang Zemin, China’s former leader who spearheaded the persecution of Falun Gong. To support this suppression, Wu Zhiming had established a team of hackers specifically to attack overseas websites, including those related to Falun Gong.
Hu Liren observed that many technicians in the company were organized to attack Falun Gong’s websites for over a year. Despite a US$60 million investment, the company survived for just over two years before collapsing, largely due to its involvement in these politically motivated activities. Meiya Online’s CEO, Wang Heyu (also known as David Wang), was ultimately imprisoned for 20 years. According to insiders, Li Ka-shing’s investment was squandered in just a few years. Seeking retribution, Li Ka-shing found a reason to have Wang arrested and imprisoned.
Reflecting on these events, Hu Liren commented: “This is the final fate of those who act as lackeys of the Communist Party.” When he left the company, he predicted it would collapse within a year or two — an unfortunate prediction that came true.
Translated by Chua BC, edited by Maria
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