On July 28, 1976, a speeding ambulance raced through the streets of Beijing. Moments later, it screeched to a halt at the gates of Xinhua Gate in Zhongnanhai.
Before the vehicle could come to a complete stop, guards rushed over, raising their weapons and shouting sternly, “What are you doing here?”
Without hesitation, a middle-aged man, his body covered in blood and wearing only a pair of briefs, leapt from the vehicle. With a hoarse but urgent voice, he cried out, “I must see Chairman Mao!”
He was quickly escorted to the office of the Vice Premier. And soon, this man—by himself—would command the attention of six Vice Premiers and mobilize 140,000 People’s Liberation Army troops.
He would later say, “This must be reported to Chairman Mao. Only then can we be saved.”
This man was Li Yulin, a retired soldier who had served in the Korean War. He often said that he had only two regrets in life: one was never enlisting again; the other was not hesitating to “drive like hell” toward Zhongnanhai on that fateful day.
On July 27, 1976, after receiving a work report, Li Yulin, who hadn’t slept for two days, returned to his office and collapsed on a bed.
That year, whether officials or workers, everyone was working around the clock. On that day alone, more than 1,600 miners descended into the coal pits.
As Li Yulin slept deeply, a phone call from Party Secretary Lao Yang jolted him awake. He threw on his clothes and went to see Lao Yang.
By the time their conversation ended, it was already 1:00 AM. Instead of returning to the mining area, Li Yulin went home to rest—he had been working non-stop for far too long.
Around 3:00 AM, while the city was deep in slumber, the ground suddenly trembled. Flashes of light cracked the sky, followed by deafening rumbling. Then came a violent shaking that brought buildings crashing down.
Li Yulin was jolted awake by the massive roar. A wardrobe shielded him from debris, sparing his life.
Without time to dress properly, he rushed his children to safety in the courtyard and then sprinted toward the mine. His mind was gripped by urgency—his brothers, the miners underground, were all he could think about.
The wailing and cries for help pierced through the chaos, clutching at Li Yulin’s heart. He ran and dug, dug and ran.
Soon he reached the bend near where his parents lived. He only cast a quick glance in that direction before turning away.
Did he not want to help them? Of course he did. But he knew that others needed him more at that moment. He had to find the Party, to save the “big family” before he could think of his own.
Upon arriving at the mine, Li Yulin stood stunned. Everywhere he looked, there was nothing but ruins—Tangshan had been flattened.
He knew that the only hope now was to contact the Party Central Committee. Only Chairman Mao could save Tangshan and its people.
But with water and electricity cut off by the quake, where could he find a phone? How could he reach Beijing?
Just then, Cadre Cao Guocheng and several militia members arrived. Soon after, emergency medic Cui Zhiliang drove up in an ambulance.
“This vehicle cannot be touched by anyone else,” Li Yulin declared. “It must be under my command!”
“Understood,” replied Cui. “Wherever you want to go, I’ll drive.”
Initially, Li Yulin thought to contact the local Party Committee. But as he drove through the devastated streets, he realized that wouldn’t be enough. He had to go directly to Beijing—straight to Zhongnanhai.
“There are three roads to Beijing,” Li Yulin calculated. “One dirt road and two paved highways. The paved roads must be severely damaged. We’ll take the dirt road.”
As they made their way toward Beijing, the scene was harrowing. Crushed buildings, bloodied bodies hanging from collapsed structures, and cries for help surrounded them.
He ached to stop and help, but he couldn’t. The fate of Tangshan was in his hands. He turned his head away, eyes brimming with tears.
Onlookers waved frantically for help, but he steeled himself: “Don’t stop. Keep going.”
When corpses and injured victims blocked the road, Li Yulin got out and explained to the crowd, “This vehicle carries a message for the Party Central. Every minute we save means more lives saved.”
The crowd helped clear the path, and the ambulance pressed on.
Eventually, they reached the entrance of a factory where an old man stood beside a telephone.
Li Yulin stumbled out, bloodied and battered, startling the old man.
“Comrade, what’s your business?” the man asked.
Li Yulin explained their urgent situation. The old man blinked, then said, “You’re already in Beijing. By the time you finish your call, you could have arrived.”
It hit them—they had already reached the capital. That day, rain poured from the skies, as though Heaven itself wept for Tangshan.
They resumed their journey, but new challenges arose: where exactly was the Party Central? Where was Zhongnanhai?
Li Yulin’s mind went blank. Then he remembered: Xinhua Gate had to be a major government building.
“To Xinhua Gate!” he ordered.
At the gate, covered in blood and desperation, Li Yulin cried out, “We’ve come from Tangshan to report the disaster to the Party. The entire city is gone…”
The guards lowered their weapons and replied, “This is the national gate. Only heads of state enter here. You need to go to the State Council reception center.”
When they arrived at the reception center, Li Yulin suddenly realized he was wearing nothing but underwear. He pulled out a military overcoat from the vehicle, threw it over himself, and wiped the blood from his face with rainwater.
Inside a large meeting room—Ziguang Pavilion—he was asked to wait. It was now 8:06 AM.
Just minutes later, senior leaders including Ji Dengkui, Li Xiannian, and Chen Xilian rushed in.
“Who is Comrade Li Yulin?” Ji Dengkui called out.
Li Yulin stood and responded. Ji embraced him tightly, weeping as he asked about Tangshan’s condition.
Choking back tears, Li Yulin said, “Tangshan is gone… I don’t know the fate of my family. We came to report to the Party… There are still over 800,000 people trapped.”
On the way back to Tangshan, Li Yulin saw the streets lined with anguished cries and injured bodies. He felt breathless with sorrow.
But he wiped his tears and plunged into the rescue operation. Due to exhaustion and delayed medical attention, his little finger would suffer permanent damage.
Three days later, Li Yulin finally found his wife and children. That was when he learned: he had lost 14 relatives in the disaster. His eldest son’s body was discovered 20 days after the quake.
Li Yulin would go on to be hailed as a hero by the people of Tangshan. He was personally received by Party leaders and received letters and gifts from all corners of the country.
He carefully registered every gift and handed them all over to the Party.
To him, what he did was simply the duty of a Communist.
He never regretted it.
He said, “I’ve lived a fulfilling life. I have no regrets.”
