Poonam Sharma
Rumors are abuzz in Beijing. In the center of China’s tightly sealed capital, unusual military activity, spontaneous internet shutdowns, and rumors of factional treachery within the Communist Party are increasing the threat of a political seismic shift: a test of Xi Jinping’s hold on power.
For years, Xi has eliminated competitors, rewritten the constitution, and cultivated a cult of personality unseen since Mao. But according to several insider accounts, the previously unassailable “Chairman of Everything” now stands on thinner ice than ever.
Four Factions, One Struggle
The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is not monolithic. Behind its disciplined facade, competitor camps have long vied for power. Experts characterize four dominant factions:
The Reformists – pragmatic technocrats and party liberals interested in political and economic opening.
The Military Faction – generals and security chiefs who control the “barrel of the gun.”
The Xi Camp – loyalists bound to the President’s personal rule and anti-corruption purges.
The Jiang-Hu Faction – party elders and princelings, children of previous leaders such as Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao, fixated on maintaining their privileges.
Until recently, the elders aligned with Xi—preferring to protect their status rather than risk upheaval. But sources now claim that this camp has flipped, demanding Xi’s outright removal. Independent confirmation from multiple channels suggests this rift may be real.
The Gun Tips the Balance
Whoever commands the military dictates the power in China. That has been the case since the establishment of the People’s Republic. And today’s military chessboard in Beijing is drastically altered.
The 82nd Group Army, once the elite 38th Army, has quietly moved into the capital. Soldiers from its “Resounding Arrow” Special Operations Brigade have been spotted in sensitive zones once guarded exclusively by the Central Security Bureau, Xi’s personal Praetorian Guard.
Witnesses have pointed out a peculiar symbol on the unit’s insignia—a design that looks like a boat. To many, it’s merely a pattern. But Xi supposedly sees more: allusion to a prophecy from ancient Tang Dynasty about a coup by a “soldier with a boat.” Some even attribute the prophecy to General Zhang Youxia, a powerful PLA commander whose name means both “warrior” and “boat.”
In politics in China, omens count. For Xi, perhaps this imagery is not just folklore—it is paranoia given life by the sight of competing troops marching through the center of Beijing.
Ambulances in the Night
On August 9, Beijing citizens observed something unusual: abrupt traffic roadblocks, premature shop closures, and convoys of ambulances speeding towards Tiananmen Square.
By the following morning, Tiananmen Square was a fortress. Barricades, ID checkpoints every few meters, and rumors of police rummaging through citizens to their underwear spurred wild conjecture. Officials claimed that this was just a rehearsal for the coming September 3rd military parade. But why have such a huge drill nine days ahead of schedule? And why so many ambulances under one roof?
Some claim the answer lies inside Zhongnanhai, the CCP’s leadership compound. According to unverified but persistent rumors, troops from the 82nd Army rolled in disguised as medics, clashed briefly with Xi’s guards, and seized control of the compound while top leaders were away at their summer retreat. The director of Xi’s presidential office was allegedly detained.
Whether or not there actually was this firefight, the imagery took hold: Beijing in de facto military occupation.
The Internet Goes Dark
Days after, on August 12 and 13, Beijing saw huge internet outages. Navigation apps malfunctioned, mobile payments were rejected, and even GPS systems crashed. For a city in the midst of China’s digital economy, the disruption was unprecedented.
Theories ran rampant: Was this a dry run to close the internet in event of unrest? Or a cyber war between competing factions? Either event, the message was unambiguous: control of information is as essential as control of weapons.
The Quasi-Elite on the Edge
As Beijing elders and generals jockey, another perilous pressure accumulates in China’s economy. A highly unusual lecture by a regime-appointed professor recently went viral, forcefully stating: “Dynasties never topple due to the poor. They collapse when the quasi-elite—those who believe they are climbing but are knocked down—rise up.”
That caution now tolls more loudly as a series of suicides among high-profile businesspeople rocks China’s corporate world. From the makers of textiles to the masters of elevators, billionaires have fallen victim to debt burdens, falling property markets, and constant government crackdowns.
In just four months, five leading businessmen took their own lives. Their deaths expose not only personal tragedies but also systemic rot: tightening credit, collapsing consumer confidence, and the suffocating grip of Xi’s statist model. For China’s struggling elite, despair is replacing loyalty.
A Dangerous Parallel
The last time soldiers rolled through Beijing, it was in 1989—and students’ blood stained Tiananmen Square. In 2012, there were armed conflicts again during a shrouded leadership transfer. Now, in 2025, Beijing again is experiencing tanks, soldiers, and roadblocks.
History suggests such moments rarely end quietly. The CCP survives through rigid discipline and ruthless suppression, but when cracks emerge at the very top, even the world’s strongest authoritarian state can stumble.
Xi’s Breaking Point?
For Xi Jinping, the omens are bad. Former allies among the Party elders now demand that he step down. Army units loyal to others march in the capital. Economic elites—the regime’s backbone—despair. And his rivals even supposedly use his personal guarantees to Donald Trump (“China won’t invade Taiwan on my watch”) as ammunition against him.
The paradox is stark: the man who was invincible last year might now be trapped by paranoia, prophecy, and palace politics.
The Road Ahead
Whatever these rumors portend – a real coup or mere factional pressure – one thing is certain: Beijing is no longer peaceful. The CCP feeds on secrecy and stability, but the sudden emergence of troops, ambulances, and internet shutdowns betrays upheaval at the center of power.
For the Chinese public—and the world—the result would be very important. A weakened Xi might bring about instability in the party. The regime could fracture completely through a coup. Or, in classic authoritarian style, Xi might retaliate harder than ever before, suppressing opponents and tightening the grip.
For the moment, Beijing waits with bated breath. And the rest of the world waits and sees if this is the start of the end for Xi Jinping—or merely another page in the CCP’s brutal survival guide.
