There’s been a lot of drama these past couple of days. I haven’t even finished digesting the Jing Tian gossip, and now there’s Liu Xiang’s story too. Let me sort it out for everyone.

1. Before Liu Xiang retired, his advertising fees were divided according to the rules. He took the largest share, and the rest went to his coach and the sports bureau. When he talked about “dividing the advertising fees,” that’s what he was referring to.
2. Because of his achievements and commercial value, he continued to hold an official position at the Shanghai Sports Bureau after retiring. More than a decade passed, and only when they decided to clean up the staffing system did they suddenly say he should be properly placed in accordance with the law. That’s what he was asking: Why did it take ten years for you to remember that things had to be handled according to the law?
3. When he asked netizens to help choose, he wasn’t genuinely torn between accepting a buyout and becoming a coach. He was making fun of this whole operation. The subtext was perfectly clear: When we were dividing up advertising fees together ten years ago, why didn’t you “clean things up” then? Everyone was getting along just fine back then.

That’s the whole story.

The term public opinion likes using most these days is “drawing a salary without working.” It’s a convenient label—stick it on anyone, and it seems to fit.

But applying that term to Liu Xiang’s case is a mischaracterization.

After retiring, he held a position at the sports bureau; he wasn’t secretly collecting a paycheck for some idle job.

The bureau knew exactly what his name could do: events needed someone to lend them credibility, external relations needed a recognizable face, and internally they needed a symbol capable of lifting people’s spirits.

Those are things someone who simply clocks in and sits at a desk can’t do.

You could have a department head sit in the office every day, and it still wouldn’t produce the effect of having Liu Xiang appear onstage once. So don’t treat whether someone showed up at work as the only standard.

Showing up only proves that a person was there; it doesn’t prove that anything was accomplished.

Why didn’t he voluntarily sever the relationship?

Because within this system, the position is more than just a paycheck. It also provides status and a safety net.

This isn’t unique to Liu Xiang. With so many celebrities trying to enter the system, they’re not doing it for that meager fixed salary. It’s understandable that he didn’t want to give it up.

The awkward part came later: Before, he could hold the position without anyone requiring him to work regular office hours. But once the staffing system was cleaned up, only two options remained—come back and sit in an office, or accept a buyout and leave.

Given his circumstances, suddenly treating him like someone in an ordinary position doesn’t look like an effort to make use of him. It looks more like they’re trying to close out an account.

Some people have compared this with Yang Zhenning’s status as an academician: He doesn’t go to work or sit in an office, so why hasn’t his position been cleaned up? Why should he receive special treatment?

That comparison holds up. In terms of bringing honor to the country and boosting national morale, Liu Xiang may not be inferior to Yang Zhenning.

To put it more bluntly, there are plenty of people in the system who are genuinely idle. Why single out Liu Xiang?