A scream echoes through the shadows… and suddenly, the screen freezes on a face fans never wanted to see: Yu Menglong, clawing for air, as Gao Taeyu towers over him in the chaos. Is this the “controversial” clip proving he fought not just for life—but against betrayal from the inside?

Whispers say it’s no accident: a raw, unfiltered glimpse into the night that broke a star, hidden in plain sight until now. Hearts are racing, fists clenching—could this be the spark that topples the cover-up? Bone-chilling.

Peel back the layers of this nightmare—hit the link and stand witness before the censors strike again. Who’s ready to demand answers?

A grainy, heart-wrenching video has exploded across social media, thrusting Chinese actor Gao Taeyu back into the crosshairs of the Yu Menglong death scandal and prompting fans to label it “the most damning evidence yet.” The clip, which surfaced anonymously on X and underground forums late last week, purportedly shows Yu in a frantic struggle for his life inside a dimly lit apartment—his pleas for mercy drowned out by scuffling and what sounds like Gao’s voice barking orders. Shared over 3 million times despite frantic platform takedowns, the footage has reignited global fury, with viewers convinced it captures the prelude to Yu’s fatal September plunge. But as Beijing authorities dismiss it as “fabricated misinformation,” the question lingers: Does this “controversial” video expose a betrayal-fueled nightmare, or is it the latest deepfake in a saga riddled with shadows?

Yu Menglong, the 37-year-old breakout star of romantic epics like Eternal Love (2017) and The Legends (2019), was found lifeless on the grass below the Sunshine Upper East high-rise in Beijing’s Chaoyang district on September 11, 2025. The Beijing Public Security Bureau moved swiftly to classify the incident as an accidental fall, citing alcohol consumption during a casual gathering at a friend’s fifth-floor apartment. Yu’s management agency, Huace Film & TV, corroborated the account in a Weibo post that evening, expressing “profound sorrow” and advising fans to “grieve with reason and avoid baseless rumors.” The actor’s mother, a soft-spoken former educator from Xinjiang, added a personal plea days later: “Menglong drank too much that night. It’s a heartbreaking accident. Please let him find peace.” She painted a portrait of a devoted son—vegan, devoted to his two rescue dogs, and privately wrestling with the pressures of fame—who had confided in her about industry stresses but never hinted at danger.

From the outset, however, the narrative fractured under public scrutiny. Residents of the upscale complex reported eerie disturbances around 5 a.m.: frantic cries of “Stop! I want to go home!” and “Don’t touch me!” reverberating from the apartment, punctuated by thuds and shattering glass. The first witness on scene, a early-morning jogger, described Yu’s body as oddly composed—dressed in a crisp white shirt, black trousers, and polished shoes, with minimal disarray suggesting a stumble. Blood seeped from his lips, his posture rigid in a way that forensic whispers later attributed to pre-impact trauma. His mobile device? Absent from the site. His beloved dogs, often seen trailing him in Instagram reels? Gone, with no sightings reported since.

Doubts crystallized when Yu’s cousin broke ranks with a detailed chronology that clashed with police timelines. At 3:12 a.m., she recounted, Yu rang her sounding alert and annoyed, venting about coerced shots of imported spirits at the soiree and assuring her he’d summon a ride-share. By 5:20 a.m., a chilling SMS: “Door’s jammed. They’re outside.” Appended were three wide-eyed emojis, a digital shorthand for panic. Authorities chalked it up to intoxication-induced paranoia, but the cousin’s explosive Weibo thread—”Sober and cornered, not stumbling drunk”—amassed 50,000 reposts before deletion.

As leaks breached China’s firewalls, overseas media amplified the discord. A Foreign Policy exposé tallied 200,000 censored Weibo entries by mid-October, alongside 2,000 account suspensions in a bid to stem the tide. Esoteric forum posts from late August eerily foreshadowed peril for an “Eternal Love” alum with Yu’s follower count, dismissed by skeptics as retrofitted prophecy. The plot thickened with purported autopsy excerpts, circulated on Reddit and Telegram, detailing horrors incompatible with a mere drop: fractured dentition, perineal lacerations evoking assault, thoracic punctures, and hypodermic traces implying sedation. Malaysian pathologists, quoted in regional press, opined these marked multi-hour ordeal, not terminal velocity. A grotesque rumor posited Yu had concealed a flash drive brimming with laundering dossiers in his gut, necessitating an impromptu evisceration. Blurry bystander snaps revealed abdominal dressings and facial contusions inflicted postmortem.

The scandal metastasized with the “17 attendees” manifest, a who’s-who of C-ent elites—directors like Cheng Qingsong, producers Fang Li, thespians Gao Taeyu and Song Yiren, lyricist Ji Guangguang, vocalist Jiao Maiqi, plus aides—accused of ensnaring Yu at a September 8 villa revelry. A dark web reel, peddled for $100,000 to YouTuber Li Muyang, allegedly chronicled Yu and his pets in “egregious duress”—hustled from ledges, retrieved for reprisals. Li, who relayed it to U.S. feds, emphasized the absence of ultraviolence but underscored the torment’s toll.

True-crime pods like Rotten Mango dissected the “clandestine fete” motif, tying it to a spate of agency fatalities—11 peers in “enigmatic” demises amid draconian pacts and oligarchic predations. A revived Yu epistle to kin: “This fortune? Tainted, not toil-earned.” Ire zeroed on performer Fan Shiqi, whose ephemeral Weibo screed—”Affirmed: Yu Menglong’s end, merited”—evaporated under assault, buttressed by a 99.57% vocal facsimile of her vituperating him. Her handlers decried a breach; devotees decried disloyalty for roles.

Yu’s matriarch, erstwhile in lockstep with enforcers, evaporated mid-BEIJING transit for obsequies, birthing tales of “omnipotent” gag orders. Her terminal dispatch inverted: “Malice, not mishap—precipitous pyre concealed carnage.” Kin bewailed the remains: desecrated, dosed, disfigured. October birthed AI hoaxes of Yu-orchestrated uprisings, quashed by verifiers, as #JusticeForYuMenglong surged to 90,000 TikToks and ignited transatlantic marches.

Enter the incendiary video, dubbed “Gao’s Reckoning” by agitators. Dropped October 31 on X by @moon_ki95—a montage of purported security feeds and party snippets—it clocks 47 seconds of purported pandemonium: Yu, disheveled and bruised, lunging toward an exit as Gao Taeyu, clad in gray hoodie, grapples him amid shouts of “Traitor! You trusted me?” and “No more running.” A second segment, allegedly from a parking garage, depicts Yu bolting from a sedan only to be tackled by a figure resembling Fan Shiqi, then hauled back amid muffled wails: “Why you, of all? I let my guard down.” The uploader truncated it, citing “unbearable escalation,” but metadata pegs it to Sunshine Upper East’s underbelly cams, timestamped hours pre-tumble.

Provenance? Shrouded. Touted as neighbor-snagged or pilfered surveillance, it ricocheted virally, evading Weibo’s lexical nets. Vision Times cross-checked fragments against complex logs, but probes falter amid intimidation—tenants reportedly greased or hazed into reticence, clinic feeds “surfaced” displaying Yu carted in pre-plunge, swaddled and groaning. An ancillary thread links to a sack clip: hazy tarmac footage of a shrouded form rushed airside, clocked post-plunge, howling translocation.

Gao, 35 and known for rugged turns in The Knockout (2023), fired back September 14 with a legal missive: “Never present at the locus. Fabrications defame.” He’d preempted September 12, disavowing pre-incident repast with Yu. Yet backlash crested: A September 28 livestream aborted under deluge of “Murderer!” barrages. Petitions now eclipse 800,000, baying for his ostracism alongside Song, Jiao, Tian, and Fan—triggering Fan’s gig flops, like a 15-ticket concert cull.

Enforcers? Mute save for September 21’s trio of “calumny” nabbers. November’s Weibo scythe swung wider, yet X and Discord stoke the pyre: “Yu’s gasp indicts us all.” Off-the-record to Indian dailies, insiders lament C-drama’s “malignancy”—proxies sluicing via talents like Yu, knotted to suspects Yuan Ziwen and Song Yiren’s 100+ phantom entities shuttered yearly.

Yu’s odyssey? Heart-rending coda. June 15, 1988, Xinjiang scion, he ascended from Super Boy auditions to celestial suitor in Eternal Love, harvesting $6-12M from shoots, plugs, and ballads. Behind lenses: Meek teetotaler, pooch patriarch, psyche proponent—once musing live for “mundane delights like skewer sups,” coveting adherents’ ease. His valediction, Veiled Enigmas (2025), probed perfidy—poignancy undimmed.

Gentler vestige: A sepia infant snap with sire, recirculated lately, “mirrored in mien and mirth,” evoking renewed keens. Father, a fitness fixture, predeceased by moons—carcinoma unconfirmed, but partisans posit “retributive recoil.” Taiwanese seer Xuyu invoked Yu triply: “Nemesis stalks my slayers—derangement, auto-annihilation impend.”

November 5 finds the vid immortalized in captures, FBI dark-net forays escalating. Admirers sentinel in Yu’s “ultimate garb”—ivory tops, indigo strides—from Herald Square circuits to Meituan missives encoding “Bai Zhen” entreaties past sieves. Fixer Du Qiang? Rumored Taiwan-bound post-abuse reels. Qihao Gallery’s AI “effigy” reel of Yu? Vilified as profanation, clairvoyant Ty William positing cadaver cache.

Mandarins reaffirm: Nil malfeasance. Yet matriarch’s eclipse, perennial “drips,” and 700K+ transnational attestations erode credence. One X dirge clinches: “That melee? His defiance’s dying ember.” In gag’s vise, it persists—a spectral summons for verity.