In Vancouver, Zhao Yuhong, now in her sixties, lives a quiet life with her daughter, Gan Luping. The calm, she says, came only after years of pressure and uncertainty in China. In an interview, the two women described experiences that, in their view, reflect the constraints of one-party rule, from workplace coercion to personal risk. Zhao, a former deputy bank president responsible for core operations, said she faced detention and retaliation after refusing to take part in financial misconduct. Her daughter, who later moved to Canada, said she came to understand parts of China’s modern history through independent sources unavailable to her at home. Now living abroad, both have become involved in activities that advocate political reform and civil liberties.
Refusing to falsify accounts
Zhao joined the banking sector in 1986 and worked her way up over decades. By her account, her career was built on diligence rather than political maneuvering. That changed after the bank came under tighter local government control.
She said senior managers began manipulating accounts to conceal losses while diverting funds. When inspections approached, she was asked to alter financial records.
She refused.
The consequences came quickly. Zhao was removed from her leadership position and reassigned to a teller role. Not long after, she said, several men approached her, identifying themselves as police.
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“They questioned me for a full day and night,” Zhao recalled. “No sleep. Bright lights in my eyes the whole time. They kept asking whether I had tried to challenge my superiors, and warned me to think carefully about the consequences.”
She said the place did not resemble a regular police station.
“I never took a cent in bribes. I never did anything against the interests of the country or the public,” she said. “In the end, they let me go without explanation.”
After that, she stopped speaking out.
An accident that raised questions
Years later, in 2014, Zhao was struck by a car that fled the scene. The vehicle had no license plates. She survived, but the injury left a permanent scar on her leg.
“At first, I didn’t think much of it,” she said. “But the traffic officer told me it didn’t look like an ordinary accident.”
Zhao believes the incident may have been intentional. Not long afterward, the executive who replaced her died in what authorities described as a suicide. Zhao suspects otherwise, though she has no independent evidence.
She sees both events as part of a pattern.
“If you don’t follow along, you become the target,” she said. “Everything is connected, the banks, the police. Like a web.”
A family marked by loss
Zhao’s understanding of risk did not begin with her own experience.
During the Cultural Revolution, her father, a military political officer, was labeled a “counterrevolutionary” after defending a persecuted professor. He was publicly denounced, and the family was implicated.
“My mother told me how frightened they were,” Zhao said. “My father was made to wear a dunce cap and paraded in public.”
He later left the military and returned home.
A later loss left a deeper impact. Zhao said her aunt was detained after practicing Falun Gong, a spiritual movement banned by Chinese authorities in 1999.
“She never came back,” Zhao said.
The family was later notified to go to the funeral home. When Zhao’s father prepared the body, she said he discovered a severe injury on the back of her head.
“We were all stunned,” Zhao said. “But no one dared to say anything.”
There was no explanation. No investigation. Police were present throughout the funeral.
“Who would dare ask questions?” she said.
After that, the family stopped speaking about Falun Gong entirely.
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A daughter’s awakening
Gan Luping left China in 2016 to study in Canada. She graduated in 2021 and remained, building her life abroad.
“If I had stayed in China through the pandemic, I don’t think I could have accepted what happened,” she said.
Through independent media, she learned about events that had not been openly discussed in school.
“We were taught to be good citizens,” she said. “But the truth was often hidden. Sometimes teachers would quietly close the curtains and talk about June Fourth, about tanks in Tiananmen.”
During the pandemic, a deadly fire in Xinjiang left a lasting impression.
“The doors of the building were locked. People couldn’t get out,” she said. “Many died. There was even a two-year-old child among them.”
For her, the incident underscored a broader reality.
“If something unjust happens, there’s nowhere to go,” she said. “There’s no real way to defend your rights.”
Leaving, returning, leaving again
Zhao and her husband first traveled to Canada in December 2019 to visit their daughter. When the pandemic began, they stayed.
She described the experience as her first exposure to a different kind of system, one with public healthcare access and fewer restrictions on expression.
Returning to China proved difficult.
She said she faced travel restrictions, monitoring, and warnings. In 2023, visa issues required her to return temporarily. After posting comments online, she said she received calls and was told to stop.
“In China, even a few sentences can bring consequences,” she said.
She later returned to Canada.
Speaking out from abroad
In April 2025, Zhao and her daughter joined the Canadian chapter of the China Democracy Party. They began attending weekly meetings and participating in public demonstrations.
Zhao said they support the idea of a more democratic system in China.
That same year, she received a letter from her niece in China. It relayed a warning from local police, advising her to stay away from what authorities described as “problematic organizations.”
Zhao has kept the letter.
She describes it as pressure that extends beyond China’s borders. It has not changed her decision to speak.
Looking ahead
Zhao does not speak in dramatic terms about the future.
“We will keep telling people what we know,” she said.
She paused, then added:
“I may not see that day. But I believe the next generation will.”
By Li Ting
