BEIJING – On an ordinary evening in October 2020, actor and singer Yu Menglong (also known as Alan Yu) joined actress Xing Fei for a joint livestream to promote their shared project. The mood was light, chat flowed freely, fans flooded the comments with hearts and emojis. Then, out of nowhere, Yu Menglong said: “They said they’d kill me if I didn’t do it”—before breaking into loud laughter and swiftly changing the subject. At the time, viewers treated it as typical showbiz humor, a playful troll to boost engagement. The clip faded into the endless stream of content.

Five years later, after Yu Menglong’s sudden and controversial death on September 11, 2025—he fell from the fifth floor of a luxury apartment in Beijing’s Chaoyang District—that forgotten livestream exploded across Weibo, Douyin, and international forums. Devoted fans began dissecting every pixel: the plain white wall behind him, the unusual echo that suggested a bare, enclosed space, and crucially, the absence of chair backs—details that aligned almost exactly with later leaked “basement” video fragments allegedly showing Yu Menglong in distress, calling for help.
“They said they’d kill me…” — what was once brushed off as a throwaway line became the epicenter of collective obsession. Tens of millions of views, slowed-down replays, zoomed-in comparisons, frame-by-frame breakdowns. Many now insist it wasn’t a joke at all, but a veiled cry for help, perhaps delivered under duress or while being monitored during the very broadcast. Some theories even claim the lack of chair backs hints at restraints or a metal stool in a hidden room—matching descriptions in the leaked footage of confinement and possible torture in a basement setting.
Yu Menglong’s 2025 death only deepened the unease. Beijing police quickly ruled it an accident caused by alcohol intoxication and a fall from height, with no criminal elements detected. Yet his family and fans rejected the conclusion: his mother reportedly sent final messages implying manipulation and fear; rumors circulated about an autopsy revealing a USB drive removed from the body; leaked CCTV clips appeared to show a figure being carried away in a bag; whispers even linked the incident to secret parties involving powerful figures from entertainment and politics. Within days, related videos and posts vanished from Chinese platforms, pushing the hashtag #JusticeForYuMenglong onto global timelines.
Psychologists and media analysts describe the phenomenon as a textbook mix of hindsight bias and conspiracy contagion: an innocuous remark from years earlier, when viewed through the lens of tragedy, transforms into irrefutable “proof” for a grieving online community. Despite official statements denying foul play, prolonged silence and aggressive content takedowns only fueled suspicion further.
Yu Menglong had been a rising star of his generation—known for breakout roles in dramas like “Go Princess Go” and “Eternal Love,” boasting tens of millions of followers, a soulful singing voice, and striking looks. His death at 37 was not just a loss to the industry; it ignited broader questions about the shadows lurking behind China’s glittering entertainment world—where a tossed-off “joke” might be someone’s final, desperate signal, and a blank white wall could conceal unimaginable terror.
Today that 2020 livestream is no longer entertainment. It stands as a painful reminder: sometimes the loudest laughter hides the deepest fear—and by the time the world finally hears it, it’s already too late.
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