The Rise—and Mysterious Death—of Zhang Xuefeng

His name is Zhang Xuefeng, and he was 41 years old. It was one of China's most influential education figures. He had, like I said, 20 or 40 million, some say 30 million followers, and owned 11 companies. Through college consulting, he built a fortune, reaching a net worth of 800 million yuan, which is roughly 110 million US dollars. And yet, at the peak of his career, and in the prime of his life, he collapsed. At 12.30 on March 24, while running on a treadmill inside his company in Suzhou, he suffered cardiac arrest. After three hours of emergency treatment, he was pronounced dead at 3.50 p.m. But what makes this story especially eerie and unsettling is something he once said. During a live stream, he openly expressed a strange wish that one day the phrase Zhang Xuefeng is dead would trend on social media. And he preferred it sooner rather than later. And his wish came true. On the very day he died, Zhang Xuefeng is dead surged to number one on searches, flooding the entire internet in China. So people began asking, what was this, coincidence, fate, retribution? Speculation spread quickly. Some claim he died from post-vaccine complications, because he took, what, seven shots? Between four to seven shots of Chinese-made COVID vaccine. Others said it was emotional stress. Rumors of marital issues combined with extreme overwork. And then there were even whispers that the authorities may have wanted him gone. At this point, none of these claims are confirmed. But to understand why his death triggered such intense reactions and why it's related to the other Chinese man, to Professor Jiang, we need to understand who Zhang Xuefeng is or was, and why he became such a phenomenon. So he came from a poor rural family in Qijihar, Heilongjiang. He graduated from Zhengzhou University with a degree in water supply and drainage engineering. In 2016, that's 10 years ago, a video titled, Seven Minutes Explaining 34 Elite Universities, made him go viral overnight. And then from that moment on, he built a following of over 20 million people, offering advice to Chinese parents on how to navigate their children's education. But he was not a traditional teacher. He was what you might call a realist strategist, someone who laid out a brutally honest survival map, which majors are traps, which schools lead straight to unemployment, and what choices offer the safest path to income. These were the questions he answered. And that's exactly why he went viral, because he tapped into one of the biggest blind spots in China's education system. Actually, I should say in China's entire system, not just education system. Because you have, on one hand, an education system that fails to prepare young people for real careers. You have, on the other hand, an economy that struggles to create enough jobs, especially for young people. Every year, more than 10 million students graduate from college, and youth unemployment remains persistently high. And the competition is brutal. Every graduate from top universities face this challenge. Some ended up delivering food, selling insurance, or working on factory lines. Zhang Xuefeng said openly that majors like journalism, media, and liberal arts are what he called service industry, and they often lead to unemployment. And for women, his message was even more brutal. He said, the reality can be very harsh. Either compromise yourself for opportunities, or give up entirely. So his approach was calculated and blunt. So he once said, if you choose journalism, you will regret it. If a student insists on majoring in journalism, he would knock them unconscious and force them to choose something else. And he described liberal arts in one word, bootlicker. And then he labeled biochem, environmental materials, as death traps. So these statements were crude, abrasive, even offensive. But millions and millions of ordinary parents, they felt he was brutally true. Because he wasn't just talking about ideas or ideals, he was talking about survival in China. And that was his real impact. He seized on a core anxiety in Chinese society, that education is no longer about passion, it's about survival. For the first time, many ordinary people felt like someone was saying the truth out loud. That's why his livestreams draw massive crowds. And that's his 20,000 yuan, quote unquote, dream packages sold out in just three hours. And that's why he made hundreds of millions. So in a way, he became a mirror. He reflected the deepest anxieties in Chinese society. Unemployment, extreme competition, and rigid class structures. And when competition is so intense, so suffocating, that even anxiety itself becomes a business. So he was given another nickname. People call him anxiety, parental anxiety consultant. That's how he made his hundreds of millions. And yet, despite his popularity, he was widely hated. Because for many people, he crossed the line. Some believe his blunt exposure of China's societal reality was offensive, especially to those at the top of the political system. Perhaps Zhang Xuefeng himself understood the risks. Because what he was really doing was revealing the darker side of not just China's education system, but also the economic reality. And that is never without consequences. And then something happened that pushed this guy even further into the spotlight. On September 3rd last year, do you remember what happened on that day? Well, that was the military parade. On September 3rd last year, the day that Xi Jinping hosted foreign dignitaries for a grand military parade, Zhang made a statement that set the internet on fire. That day during the parade, he gathered hundreds of employees in his company to watch the parade live stream together. Here's his picture. Now it's taken straight from that session, from the live stream. And he was so caught up in the moment and he made a fiery declaration. He said, China's weapons are not for show. They are for national reunification. And on the day reunification begins, when gunfire breaks out, he would donate at least 50 million RMB. And he would donate a total of 100 million RMB. The speech spread rapidly online. But just as quickly, it triggered backlash. People accused him of warmongering. Taiwanese audiences found it deeply offensive. And inside Zhongnanhai, his words were reportedly seen as not helpful. Because timing in politics is everything. And Zhang had spoken at the wrong moment when the regime was trying to keep a lower profile amid rising geopolitical tensions and internal infighting. So the consequences came fast. Just 20 days later, his social media account was suspended by the authorities. Although it was later restored, the signal was unmistakable. Even state media stepped in to criticize him for promoting war and chasing attention. So you see, this guy had tried to align himself with the system, but instead he had crossed another line. He once said he would live to see the day Taiwan returns to China. But he didn't live to see it. Then came his death. And the question that followed. Very quickly, his death became the center of internet in China. On March 26th, that's today, a user on X pointed out several unusual details surrounding the official announcement of his death. And the announcement was issued, not by his family, but by his company, and was made too fast by Chinese standard. He died almost four o'clock in the afternoon, and they announced it that same day. So it seemed really fast by Chinese standard. And then the cause of death, sudden cardiac death, was given without clear attribution to any medical authority. And the timeline of events appeared unusually fast. And the central state media, central government state media, rapidly amplified the news without delay. So individually, each detail might seem minor, but together they raised doubts. Some online commentators began to question whether his death was truly accidental, or whether something more deliberate could be involved, possibly tied to the sensitive issues he had spoken about, or his highly charged political statements. Alright, to be clear, there's no confirmed evidence supporting any of these claims. But the suspicion itself tells you something. In that sense, Zhang Xuefeng was not just a product of the system. He became one of its casualties. He made enormous wealth by exposing the structural problems in China's education and economic system. And then he pivoted sharply, publicly pledging loyalty to the regime. Either way, he was walking a dangerous line. And in the end, he lost on both sides. Now his death, whether accidental or not, has only deepened the unease surrounding the world he once described so clearly. People seriously panicked in China.