Beijing Sino-Japanese Friendship Hospital has been rocked by a shocking medical scandal! Can you imagine? During a surgery, the patient was anesthetized and left on the operating table while the doctor abruptly left the scene, abandoning the patient for a full 40 minutes.
What’s even more alarming is that what unraveled behind this incident is far more than just a simple case of “doctors behaving badly.” From the affair scandal of Xiao Fei, the deputy director of thoracic surgery, to the mysterious background of fast-track intern Dong Xiyin, to the special access channel of Peking Union Medical College Hospital, and even to a teenager from Yunnan inexplicably labeled as “mentally ill” for eight years…
When you put all these absurd events together, doesn’t it seem like it’s part of a massive invisible script? It depicts privilege, cold-bloodedness, and oppression, showing how lightly the lives of ordinary people are valued within this system.
Today, let’s peel back the layers of this “peach-colored veil.”
First, let’s talk about the dismissal of Xiao Fei, the deputy director of thoracic surgery at Beijing Sino-Japanese Friendship Hospital. This incident was sparked by a 9-page whistleblower letter.
On April 18, Xiao Fei’s wife publicly accused him: Xiao Fei had extramarital affairs with at least four women within five years, resulting in pregnancies and abortions.
What’s most infuriating is that on July 5 last year, when Xiao Fei and his mistress Dong Xiyin were in the operating room together and Dong made a mistake that was criticized by a nurse, Xiao Fei, in a fit of anger, yelled at the nurse and left the scene without looking back, leaving behind the anesthetized patient for a whole 40 minutes, narrowly avoiding a serious outcome.
During this time, the operating room was in chaos, with constant messages urging the doctors to come back and save the patient.
On April 27, Beijing Sino-Japanese Friendship Hospital confirmed most of the accusations, and Xiao Fei was expelled from the party and fired from his position.
This incident caused an uproar online. A netizen from Guangxi lamented, “When a patient is on the operating table, they entrust their life to the doctor. No matter how big personal grievances are, you cannot abandon the patient. This is the bottom line of the profession.”
What’s more alarming is that this incident took place in July last year. It wasn’t just the few people in the operating room who knew; it spread to the anesthesia department, other departments, and even to other hospitals in Beijing.
Nurses had already raised concerns within the department, but the hospital turned a deaf ear for 10 months. It wasn’t until April this year when they received the whistleblower letter that they hastily conducted an investigation, employing a “putting out the fire” approach.
This begs the question: Did the hospital management genuinely not know, or were they turning a blind eye? If they knew and played dumb, it’s not just negligence, it’s complicity. If they didn’t know, does that mean medical safety management has turned into a mess, which is even scarier?
If it weren’t for the online exposure, this incident would likely have been swept under the rug a long time ago. Moreover, with Xiao Fei’s case brought to light, who knows how many more cases are still hidden?
As the layers of this scandal are unraveled, netizens quickly discovered another central figure—intern Dong Xiyin, whose background has also stirred up numerous controversies.
Born in 1997, she studied economics at Barnard College, a subsidiary of Columbia University in the United States, with no prior medical background.
Upon returning to China, she joined the “4+4 Clinical Medicine Pilot Class” at Peking Union Medical College, completing four years of medical education and one year of standardized training before being dispatched to a Grade A hospital for surgery.
Ordinary individuals pursuing a medical career have to undergo a marathon journey of “5 years of undergraduate study + 3 years of master’s + 4 years of doctorate + 3 years of standardized training,” enduring over a decade. In contrast, her trajectory seemed like a rocket’s acceleration, transitioning from economics to surgical operations.
What’s even more peculiar is that despite majoring in internal medicine and being mentored by an orthopedic academician, her graduation thesis focused on radiology. And astonishingly, she ended up interning in thoracic surgery and was involved in complex surgeries, showcasing a leapfrogging pattern more akin to a video game cheat code switch.
Her name even appeared in bladder cancer guidelines, gastroenterology articles, and listed as “co-first author” or “second author”…
Some netizens quipped that she was a “hexagonal warrior,” swiftly jumping across fields like internal medicine, orthopedics, radiology, and surgery, resembling a player manipulating character settings at will.
In her acknowledgments section of theses, she listed a string of top industry heavyweights. However, her doctoral thesis, which was only 30 pages long, came under scrutiny. Some internet users shared their master’s theses, which were over 50 pages, remarking, “Shouldn’t a doctoral thesis under the guidance of an academician be at least as thick as a book?”
Netizens also unearthed details about Dong Xiyin’s extraordinary family background, with rumors suggesting her father is a senior executive in a central enterprise and her mother is a vice dean at a university. Although the specifics await verification, the glaring contrast between her rapid rise and abundant resources inevitably raises suspicions: Is this truly based on merit, or does she have some form of backing?
As Dong Xiyin’s background is scrutinized, the “4+4 model” of Peking Union Medical College has also come under intense scrutiny.
Initially, this program was established by the medical college to cultivate interdisciplinary doctors, featuring a “four-year bachelor’s degree + four-year doctorate,” with global recruitment criteria requiring applicants from top universities with a GPA of 3.6 or above and ranking within the top 50 worldwide.
However, by the time Dong Xiyin enrolled, the admission standards were discreetly lowered, with acceptance from the top 100 universities globally and the GPA requirement waived.
Coincidentally, her alma mater, Barnard College, had just entered the top 100 rankings that year. The timing of her application aligned with the new criteria, resembling a TV drama script plot twist.
Netizens immediately questioned: Was this tailored for certain “special individuals”?
One netizen quipped, “From the start, it was a backdoor entry, with a green light all the way.” Another lamented, “Ordinary medical students struggle for over a decade, while they can flash a privilege card for a shortcut.”
Furthermore, a blogger disclosed that many graduates of the “4+4 program” didn’t even have to undergo clinical training after graduation. Instead, they were directly appointed to administrative positions by leveraging personal connections.
If the surgeons on the operating table graduated from the “privileged fast-track class,” can ordinary individuals entrust their lives to them without reservations?
Doctors should rely on competence and a sense of responsibility in their profession. Once it becomes a privileged racetrack, the entire healthcare system becomes a minefield—whether it explodes or not seems left to chance.
Several days later, meticulous netizens discovered an even more enigmatic development: Dong Xiyin’s information began mysteriously “disappearing.”
Her published papers on the widely-known platforms suddenly became unsearchable, and the section on the Peking Union Medical College website where the school principal praised her was quietly deleted. The timeframe of the deletions coincided precisely with the exposure of the whistleblower letter.
Such actions not only failed to quell suspicions but rather echoed a sense of guilt: if everything was above board, why delete files and run?
Simultaneously, the illicit stayovers and transfers of Dong Xiyin were also disclosed. According to regulations, she was supposed to rotate to the spine surgery department, but a simple statement of “not wanting to go” enabled her to secure a switch back to thoracic surgery following personal interventions from her doctoral advisor and a prestigious figure from Peking Union College.
Xiao Fei later admitted to the “coordinated department transfer,” attempting to justify it as a scheduling arrangement. However, it was clear to everyone that it was a blatant manipulation of relationships to bypass regulations.
If not for online exposure, this matter would likely have been silently swept under the rug long ago. Furthermore, this concatenation of actions ceased being just a personal issue; it had turned into an exposure of all such hidden rules within the system of the Chinese Communist Party.
Many initially viewed the Xiao Fei incident as a “tabloid scandal” or a melodramatic affair. However, the chilling realization lies in how this whole system casually regards “human lives as insignificant.”
Consider this—a deputy director of a nationally renowned Grade A hospital left an anesthetized patient unattended on the operating table for 40 minutes just to protect his lover. The hospital was aware of this incident for 10 months and did nothing to rectify the situation—this isn’t an individual’s moral failing but a systemic approval.
Turning to Dong Xiyin, her leap from economics to medicine, a mere year of standardized training before entering the surgical theater, all backed by the legendary background of a highly connected state-owned enterprise family.
How do ordinary standardized trainees fare? A cursory search on a public account revealed reports of four to five trainees committing suicide due to overwhelming pressure just last year. Some trainees hesitated to take sick leave even with coughs and chest pain during training. Others resorted to suicide midway through their internships, receiving a meager monthly allowance of 600 yuan and a nocturnal shift supplement of only 20 yuan.
While ordinary individuals toil and struggle, she effortlessly wields the power to influence rotation placements and green-light her career path. This disparity in reality demonstrates how some people don’t even have to earn basic qualifications while others face razor-thin prospects.
Moreover, Dong Xiyin’s expedited journey is not an isolated case. Behind her stands an entire cohort maneuvering on the “privileged elevator,” effectively bypassing others who fiercely pursue the conventional route.
As the article author puts it, “The veil of sensationalism merely conceals the true story of callousness and privilege.”
Where will society be led by such a “privileged ascent?”
Speaking of which, many may feel disconnected from incidents like “doctors abandoning their duties” and “special access channels,” but in reality, such absurdities are prevalent not only within hospitals but also around us. A recent instance vividly illustrates this stark reality.
In Cangxi, Guangyuan, Sichuan, a student reported finding maggots in cafeteria meals to the education bureau, mentioning the unreasonable evening study arrangements. Can you guess what followed?
Instead of investigating the issues, the bureau staff berated the student, calling them a “mongrel!” Yes, you heard it right—a department meant to safeguard student rights chose to hurl insults, exhibiting a demeanor dirtier than the insects found in the food.
It’s akin to filing a complaint against a doctor’s negligence and having the hospital not only dodge the issue but also join forces with the doctor to rebuke you—an absurd twist wherein you become the perpetrator.
While the authorities responded with claims such as “involved personnel have been suspended,” it’s common knowledge that such handling usually entails a transfer to a different position, switching identities before returning, and swiftly resuming normal duties once the commotion subsides.
Another incident was highlighted in the article: a property owner reported a neighbor encroaching on public space, only to face pressure from the said “encroacher,” manipulating relationships to intimidate the whistleblower, leaving them disconcerted and ultimately silenced.
This scenario mirrors the helplessness of ordinary individuals—speaking out feels akin to stumbling into an invisible web, struggling only to become a sacrificial lamb led to the slaughter. Those with substantial connections can readily exploit their power, accessing your records, investigating your workplace, and even ensuring that your job is “taken care of.”
In the system of the Chinese Communist Party, the issue isn’t about right or wrong but about connections and power hierarchies—about who has the clout to fend off challenges, and who can set the rules in their favor.
In a transparent power dynamic where fairness prevails, these instances of “mini powers” running amok would scarcely find a foothold. Unfortunately, within this systemic framework, once the sheep begin to grow fangs, they are ruthlessly muzzled even further.
Do you encounter similar episodes where “raising an issue leads to retaliation?” Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments.
Discussing the sense of helplessness among ordinary individuals, does it get more surreal than “you can’t even determine if you’re normal?” Let’s delve into a shocking case from Huize, Yunnan.
A 23-year-old man named Song He, preparing for his driver’s license last year, was unexpectedly notified by the Kunming Vehicle Administration of his diagnosis of a mental illness, thus prompting the revocation of his license.
Song He was dumbstruck. He was physically fit and had been working steadily, so where did the mental illness diagnosis come from? Investigations later revealed that back when he was 14, a local hospital’s psychiatric department diagnosed him with “schizophrenia.”
What’s even more ludicrous is that he was attending middle school at the time and had never been to a hospital, let alone undergone a psychiatric examination. Even the doctor who diagnosed him, Dr. Wang, hadn’t obtained his psychiatric practice qualifications back then.
How could such a situation arise? The locality had a firm quota requiring the confirmed diagnosis rate of severe mental illnesses to reach 4.5‰ of the total population. To meet this target, some regions resorted to “collateral damage.” As long as they could fill in forms and claim reimbursements, your actual health status became irrelevant.
Song He’s father, being illiterate, was asked to sign a document while getting vaccinated, unwittingly consenting to be placed under “mental health management.”
For the subsequent eight years, local organizations fabricated annual follow-up records, concocting claims of his “emotional instability” and “daily medication intake”…
In reality, during this period, Song He had been working various jobs across the country and had never undergone any alleged follow-up procedures.
This narrative sounds fictional, but it’s true, and it’s not an isolated case.
To fulfill the requirements of the “686 Project,” similar fabrications of data were exposed nationwide: those who were in dire need of help were overlooked, while healthy individuals were erroneously entangled in the “mental illness” system, marking a drastic deviation in their life trajectories.
Ultimately, this isn’t about an individual’s corrupt practices but about an entire system that allows privilege and abuse, leaving ordinary people confused about even their own identities, let alone their life rights.
The medical scandal is just the tip of the iceberg. We will unravel more systemic secrets in the upcoming expose. Don’t miss out.
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