天才神话与"文二代"的同一周：蒋方舟、贾浅浅接连被撤学位的背后

Today I want to talk about a topic that has blown up on the Chinese internet these past few days.

In just three days, two once-illustrious women writers had their master's degrees revoked by universities, one after another.

One is called Jiang Fangzhou, one is called Jia Qianqian.

Put those two names together, and they almost form a thought-provoking metaphor.

First, Jiang Fangzhou.

She was a bona fide "genius girl" — writing at seven, publishing at nine, growing up under the halo of a child prodigy.

When she sat the college exam, she was reportedly admitted to a top school through a special waiver with a steep score reduction — which, to countless ordinary students grinding through study, already carried a layer of controversy.

Now, Jia Qianqian — her pedigree is no smaller.

Her father is Jia Pingwa, a hugely respected senior writer in China's literary world; she herself is an associate professor at a university, also holding a post in the Writers' Association.

A few years ago, she made the hot-search list over a batch of blunt-styled poems that netizens ridiculed, and was widely suspected of squeezing into literary circles on her father's name.

One a "genius myth," the other a "literary heir" — both shrouded in a dazzling halo, both backed by resources beyond most people's reach.

So what exactly happened this time?

Put plainly: both women's papers were confirmed to contain serious academic plagiarism.

Jiang Fangzhou's storyline, in particular, took twists and turns.

As early as last year, a Tsinghua University professor had reported her master's thesis for plagiarism and fraud, under his real name.

At first, China's Renmin University, after investigating, responded that no academic misconduct was found.

But public opinion did not settle, and as new clues kept surfacing, the school reopened its inquiry.

It finally ruled that her degree thesis indeed had nine passages overlapping a foreign journal article, with no citations marked and no references listed.

On July 13, Renmin University formally announced the revocation of her master's degree.

Just two days later, on July 15, Northwest University brought down its own hammer.

It ruled that Jia Qianqian had committed academic misconduct and, in a single decision, revoked her master's degree and associate-professor title, and terminated her employment.

The investigation showed that among the dozen-plus papers she published as first author, as many as nine contained plagiarism.

Facing the ruling, Jiang Fangzhou then apologized publicly online, saying she accepts the school's decision and offering a solemn apology to readers troubled by the affair and to teachers implicated because of her.

The two cases happened almost back to back, so the public naturally discussed them together, over and over.

Many applauded, calling it a rare victory for justice.

Because it sends a simple but powerful signal: whether you're a gifted prodigy or a silver-spoon heir of a famous family, once you cross the red line of academic fraud, you must pay the price.

To many, behind this is precisely the ever-stronger public oversight of recent years, genuinely taking effect.

Interestingly, even the outspoken media figure Hu Xijin publicly weighed in, calling it "a victory for justice."

And before the rulings landed, there was a telling detail: several companies under Jiang Fangzhou's name were quietly deregistered around the time it broke, or transferred to family members.

This string of moves was read by many netizens as "being well prepared in advance."

Of course, some also read a note of regret into it.

Two such brilliant, well-known people who could have gone far on genuine ability, yet because of plagiarism, ruined a reputation built over years, overnight.

In just a few days, two literary stars went down one after another, leaving many unable to help but ask: what on earth has become of our academic world?

The truth is, whether it's a genius myth or the halo of a famous family, what truly lets a person stand firm has never been the label on your head or the background at your back, but the work you write yourself, stroke by stroke, solidly.

The more dazzling the halo, the heavier the fall once it drops.

Okay, that's where we'll leave this somewhat wistful story today; see you next time.