BEIJING/CHENGDU: From the street corners of Chengdu to the alleys of Beijing, ordinary Chinese citizens are watching the state machinery move with quiet apprehension. Headlines speak of purged generals, corruption within the Rocket Force, and executions of criminal leaders. Behind the official narratives, people sense a growing instability that is hard to name but impossible to ignore.

The removal and investigation of senior military and political officials have become a recurring theme in Chinese state media. While these actions are officially described as part of an anti-corruption campaign, citizens interpret them differently.

“When so many senior figures disappear, people start to wonder what is happening inside,” said a resident in Guangzhou, unwilling to be identified. “It no longer feels like justice — it feels like nobody is safe.”

The sudden death of actor-singer Yu Menglong earlier this year triggered an emotional response across social media, soon followed by silence. Posts were deleted, comments restricted, and discussions removed. For many young people, the state’s quick suppression of mourning created unease.

“If someone admired by millions cannot be spoken about freely, what does that mean for us?” one Beijing university student said on a closed online forum.

The restrained response, citizens say, reflects a wider caution that has come to define public expression in China.

Recent arrests of senior officers in the People’s Liberation Army and police have drawn mixed reactions. Some citizens see it as a necessary clean-up; others view it as internal power consolidation.

A Guangzhou taxi driver summed up the public sentiment: “Every few months, they arrest another official. But prices keep rising, jobs are scarce, and our lives don’t change.”

Analysts say that while the anti-corruption campaign projects discipline, it also exposes growing distrust within the leadership ranks.

The execution of several gang leaders in China’s border provinces was presented as a victory against organised crime. Yet many citizens question the timing.

“These groups existed for years,” said a small business owner in Yunnan. “Why act now? Who was protecting them all this time?”

Observers note that in a tightly controlled information environment, such questions rarely find answers. Citizens often read the state’s intent through timing and tone, not transparency.

Economic concerns are amplifying public fatigue. Slower factory output, rising youth unemployment, and pressure on small businesses have eroded confidence.

Official figures continue to highlight resilience, but citizens see widening gaps between the state’s optimism and daily reality. “We hear the same slogans — strong nation, stable growth — but people feel poorer,” said a 28-year-old tech worker in Shenzhen.

Many elderly citizens, once hopeful for their children’s future, now speak of “the system becoming heavy again,” a phrase echoing older memories of control and scarcity.

While political stability remains intact, social conversations have grown quieter. Citizens avoid sensitive topics online and at home. Discussions on politics have largely disappeared from public spaces.

“The silence doesn’t mean agreement,” said a university lecturer in Beijing. “It means people have learned that words can have consequences.”

Analysts say China is not facing collapse but a deeper disconnection between power and people. Citizens continue to comply, work, and adapt, but the belief in the official narrative is weakening.

“The more power demands loyalty, the less loyalty it inspires,” a retired official observed privately.

For now, the system remains intact. But beneath the surface, a quiet fatigue — emotional, economic, and moral — is spreading across Chinese society.