Pang, as a writer, I’ve never properly written about you. I fear my clumsy words cannot carry the glory and storms of your ten years of iron-blooded dominance.
I’m a Rio veteran. The first time I saw you was at Zhang Jike’s bedside. Back then, Little Pang was spirited and full of youthful brilliance. As merely a major tournament fan, I was already certain at that moment—the future would be yours.
Who could have imagined that years later, your journey would be so difficult. I didn’t accompany you through the winter, but news came intermittently from trending topics. I knew you won, and I knew you lost. But back then, I only hoped you could win at the Tokyo Olympics. The ending was somewhat regretful, but I knew the future was yours. This belief never changed.
When I saw you again, that passionate and flamboyant talented youth had become a lone hero who gave his all. Later, I learned that your path was even harder than I imagined.
That match against Tomokazu Harimoto on August 1st—I kept backing out and going back in front of the screen. I prayed in my heart, “God, please let this kid win.” The world held its breath, you stood alone, bearing all the hardships on your shoulders, and you finally delivered the fatal blow. Winning felt so good. Only by winning could you become the storyteller. Only then did the world learn what thorns you had walked through.
Without support, instead facing attacks from toxic fan culture, that scene at Chongqing WTT cut like a cold blade to the bone. The Paris cycle—I don’t want to recall it.
I thought the frost had passed, but on this day last year, it was so cold that even generals couldn’t draw their bows. The mood that day was indescribable. For the first time, I sent you a Weibo private message you’d never receive, calling you the bravest man of 2024. Looking back now, you’ve crossed the most dangerous passes. There won’t be a worse day than that, will there?
From now on, Fan Stars accompany you. I went to the Super League for the first time and felt the震撼 of a sea of stars. Dark hatred is nothing compared to overwhelming love.
At the National Games, I was also there, witnessing your championship for the first time. At the 12th Games, the young kid swept through the strong with his dark horse momentum and unique skills, breaking the original team plans. At the 15th Games, the Eastern Emperor returned outside the system—a grandmaster, ten battles, ten victories, defeating the world number one twice, shocking all. They tried to end your era, but you fought your way back alone. It’s you, with the Purple Star high above, an emperor’s destiny.
Brilliance on the court, resilience in adversity. You said you’re stronger than we imagine. I want to say that being your fan is happier than you imagine.
At the Bundesliga match, I saw Fan Stars waving with you. On the winter solstice, I saw a fan’s sign at the venue saying, “When the grapes ripen, we’ll accompany you; when they become wine, we’ll toast together.” So please, while embracing complexity, take care of that boy who loves egg pancakes.
What comes next, I don’t know. I only hope the environment gets better. Los Angeles—if you compete, we’ll see you at the venue. If you don’t, I’ll still bless you at every stage of your life.
When you’re tired, look up at the starry sky. The stars in the sky are all people who love you.
Signed: Dong Shishi
Submitted to Fan Stars’ Voice Column