76-year-old Huang Yulang reveals he's filing for divorce, openly admits owing 30 million yuan, and has arranged for his wife, who is 37 years younger, to move house.

He’s 76 this year. It isn’t a divorce dispute—he’s afraid of bringing trouble to his family. The conversation in the tea room is quiet. His right-hand ring finger is bare. When he mentions his son, he pauses and says, “At the few times by the school gate, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t see.”

That Thousand Island Lake project—there really was one in 2016. The company registration office can verify it. Hangzhou Chunan County also approved the project initiation. The investment amount written down was 142 million. But later, it wasn’t completed. In 2023, the county sent back a letter saying, “construction is terminated.” No one denies that it existed; it just didn’t make it through.

As for the over 30 million owed, he says it was a “repurchase payment” required by agreement from the other two shareholders—not usurious loans, and not a scam. A Hong Kong lawyer said in the South China Morning Post that this kind of matter falls under a contract dispute, not a crime, but even so, if the court sees it, it still has to rule. The original text of the agreement wasn’t made public, and he didn’t show it to reporters either. He only said, “Section 8.2 sets out the conditions.”

When the school incident happened, an internal notice from the Education Bureau mentioned “parent complaints about interference outside school.” In December last year, Cass Fong posted a missing-person notice on a social platform, with a photo of a fruit basket, and the text said, “Please don’t disturb the child’s route to and from school.” She posted it and then deleted it a few days later. As for whether anyone really waited at the school gate, there was no surveillance footage and no police record—only Huang Yulang’s own account.

He and Cass married in 2017. Divorce proceedings began at the end of last year, and they’re currently going through the property declaration process. The house is in her name, and it can be found in the Land Registry—it was bought by her before the marriage. He didn’t mention dividing property. He only said the son’s tuition and medical bills—he would keep paying. This wasn’t written into the agreement, but in interviews he said it twice.

He’s been in prison before, because his company falsified documents. Later he opened Yu Huang Chao, and when he owed money, he paid with art commissions. This time is different: the creditors went straight to the child’s school. He didn’t blame anyone, didn’t throw responsibility on others—he just took off his rings and, first, separated the people.

Some people say he’s embarrassing, and others say he’s responsible. In fact, he didn’t choose which side. He just chose to first protect that six-year-old boy. He’s drawn comics of fighting and killing his whole life, and what he fears most now is that his son might look back and see strangers surrounding the school gate.

He also holds the copyright to Dragon Tiger Gate. Last year he authorized payment to be collected for eight million, but before the money arrived, he kept making calls to chase debts.

The divorce documents weren’t signed yet. The lawyer said it might still take a few months. Recently he’s been revising drafts for a new comic. The protagonist is an old man walking with a bag over his shoulder, and the bag is full of papers—court summons, a repayment plan, and kindergarten payment slips.

He didn’t say he regretted it, and he didn’t say whether it was worth it.

The rings are in the third drawer.