The Sudden D34th That Shook the Nation

The Chinese entertainment industry is once again shrouded in profound grief and widespread disbelief.

On a quiet morning in September 2025, actor and singer Yu Menglong, also known as Alan Yu, was found deceased after reportedly falling from a friend’s apartment building in Beijing. He was only 37 years old.

The official verdict swiftly declared the passing an accidental fall caused by alcohol intoxication.

Yet, a powerful wave of new, unverified information—including what is rumored to be chilling CCTV footage from his residence and a deeply emotional final message allegedly sent to his mother—has left millions of fans questioning what truly happened on that fatal night.

This is not merely the story of one man’s tragic demise. It is the portrait of a broken system, a suffocating, hyper-competitive industry, and a mother’s unbearable, public loss.

The Rise of a Gentle Star and the Unseen Solitude

Born in Xinjiang in 1988, Yu Menglong began his professional career not as an actor, but as a musician.

His early days were spent performing in small, intimate bars and uploading his music videos online.

His soulful eyes, soft-spoken personality, and calm determination slowly began to catch the attention of a wider audience.

His initial breakthrough came in 2015 with the successful web drama Go Princess Go, a low-budget series that unexpectedly turned into a viral sensation.

He became a certified household name after starring in Eternal Love, one of China’s most-watched fantasy dramas.

From that point onward, Yu was no longer just a singer or an actor—he was a national symbol of quiet perseverance, the kind of star who made fame look remarkably graceful.

Behind the undeniable charm, however, there was also deep solitude.

Those closest to him described him as polite but intensely introverted, someone who found it exceptionally difficult to express frustration or mental distress in an industry perpetually filled with noise, relentless pressure, and fierce competition.

The Official Story and the Unanswered Questions

On the evening of September 10, 2025, Yu attended a private gathering at a friend’s apartment in Beijing. It was described as a small get-together: a few close friends, drinks, and laughter. Nothing, ostensibly, out of the ordinary.

According to initial police reports, the group dispersed late that night. Yu reportedly went into a separate bedroom to rest, locking the door securely from the inside. Hours later, at dawn on September 11, his body was tragically discovered outside the building.

Authorities quickly concluded that Yu’s passing was an accidental fall caused by acute alcohol intoxication. Toxicology reports, according to the official public statements, confirmed traces of alcohol in his system.

His management released a short announcement confirming his passing and urgently implored the public not to spread rumors. The police echoed the same sentiment, issuing a strong warning against the circulation of false information online.

For some, that swift, simple explanation provided sufficient closure. But for many others—especially his dedicated fans—the statement only raised more complex, piercing questions.

Why were no detailed reports or relevant CCTV clips released to the public? Why was the funeral seemingly conducted so quickly and discreetly? Why were certain online posts discussing him abruptly deleted?

Silence, in the volatile digital age, often speaks louder, and more suspiciously, than any official words.

A Message That Shook the Internet: Dirty Money

Days after his death, shocking screenshots began to widely circulate on Chinese social media platforms. They allegedly showed Yu’s final, deeply personal message sent to his mother.

In that haunting message, he wrote words that fueled a new narrative: “Every time I see the money they send, I feel sick. That money isn’t earned by me—it’s dirty. I must say goodbye now, Mother. They might come and kill me anytime.”

The message spread like wildfire. Though authorities never officially confirmed its authenticity, its precise tone, its urgent phrasing, and its raw emotional intensity resonated too deeply with the public’s fears about the industry to be easily dismissed.

Was Yu desperately warning his mother of real, immediate danger?

Was he cryptically referring to the darker, coercive side of the entertainment business, to crippling debts, pervasive blackmail, or corporate coercion?

Or was it, as officials rigidly claimed, simply the confused expression of a man under severe emotional stress and alcohol?

No one could say for certain. But the specific words—especially the fear of being eliminated—felt hauntingly final and impossible to ignore.

The CCTV Mystery and the Broader Censorship

Shortly after the final message surfaced, whispers began to spread about a CCTV recording allegedly retrieved from Yu Menglong’s actual residence.

Unverified posts claimed that the purported footage showed Yu pacing his apartment, talking intensely on the phone, and appearing deeply distressed just hours before his fall.

Others insisted the footage was taken from the apartment corridor, showing an unknown individual entering or leaving the building just before the incident.

None of this alleged footage has ever been publicly released, and official government channels have maintained complete silence regarding its existence.

Yet, the mere persistence of the rumor has only deepened the public’s sense of mystery and profound unease.

What makes the situation even more troubling is the documented fact that several specific posts discussing the alleged CCTV video were swiftly and forcefully deleted by moderators.

Fan groups reported their chat threads being abruptly shut down. Online discussions concerning the footage were severely restricted by censors.

In the complete absence of transparency, speculation becomes its own potent form of truth and opposition.

Industry Shadows and a Mother’s Plea

China’s entertainment industry has long been shadowed by rumors regarding its share of pervasive corruption, corporate coercion, and the tragic neglect of mental health among its stars.

“Hidden rules”—unspoken exchanges of favors or influence—have been whispered about for decades.

Friends of Yu, speaking anonymously due to fear of reprisal, mentioned that he had faced increasing professional isolation in recent years.

Certain high-profile projects were mysteriously canceled, and lucrative endorsement deals were withdrawn without any official explanation.

He had reportedly confided to a close friend that he felt terrifyingly “trapped between staying honest and surviving” the business.

The emotional toll of that kind of relentless isolation and pressure can be devastating. Stars are adored in public but are often forced to fight their deepest, darkest battles alone in private.

In the agonizing aftermath, Yu’s mother stepped forward with a heartfelt public statement. Her voice trembled with pain and exhaustion as she desperately urged fans to cease speculating and to finally respect the family’s overwhelming grief.

She confirmed that her son’s d34th was an accident after drinking and firmly insisted that he had not been eliminated. “He was my only child,” she pleaded. “Please let him rest in peace.”

Her public plea should have brought resolution. Instead, it tragically divided public opinion further. Some believed she spoke the truth to protect her family, while others suspected she had been pressured by powerful forces into silence.

The painful speculation reflected a collective inability to accept that a man so full of promise could simply vanish without a logical, clear explanation.

Remembering Yu Menglong

Yu Menglong’s tragic case is more than a simple personal tragedy—it’s a mirror reflecting how fame, control, and truth interact within modern Chinese society.

The official narrative is often swift, clinical, and sanitized. Emotional posts are deleted, forums closed, and any genuine discussions are quickly labeled as forbidden “rumor spreading.”

This intense control creates an environment where the public, hungry for true understanding, is forced to turn to unverified, dramatic stories. And those stories, in turn, breed deep societal mistrust.

Yu’s death tragically highlights the extreme fragility of transparency in an industry where image management is prioritized far above emotional truth.

It also raises urgent, necessary questions about mental health support for artists, the desperate need for independent investigations, and the fundamental rights of fans to know the unvarnished facts about their idols.

Beyond the swirling rumors and endless theories, Yu Menglong remains what he always was: a gifted artist who wholeheartedly gave his spirit to his craft.

His final message, whether ultimately proven authentic or not, serves as a chilling, profound reminder of how fragile life is beneath the crushing weight of fame.

Conclusion

The discovery of a possible CCTV recording and Yu Menglong’s haunting final message has opened deep wounds—not only for his mother, but for an entire generation of fans who grew up watching him on screen.

The official explanation offers insufficient closure. The unanswered questions—the missing footage, the deleted posts, the persistent silence—linger powerfully like a ghost.

Perhaps one day, the complete, unvarnished truth will finally come to light. Until then, what remains is the loving memory of a man whose quiet strength, artistry, and kindness continue to resonate.

In his final moments, Yu seemed to tragically remind the world of one simple, terrifying truth: even stars can break completely under insurmountable pressure.