A honeymoon in western Tibet ended tragically in October when the newlyweds were in a car accident on a mountain road due to altitude sickness.

Yu Yanyan, 27, from Shanghai was sitting in the passenger seat and was seriously injured.

Although she was transferred to a local hospital, it was unlikely she would make it due to rapid bleeding and lack of adequate blood supplies.

But with the help of the couple’s network and connections, Yu’s husband managed to obtain blood donations from local officials and members of the public in this area of ​​Tibet, which helped stabilize his bride.

Yu’s father then arranged for a charter plane to fly her to a larger hospital for more advanced surgery.

The operation to save Yu’s life was a remarkable achievement in China – where many people lack access to quality health care – particularly in remote regions such as Tibet.

Some also said it was incredible.

Success stories meet a skeptical Chinese public

Bai Xinhui, who like Yu is also from Shanghai, began following the story after a now-recovering Yu posted a video about her near-death experience.

“It was really nice to hear how so many people worked together and helped save their lives,” Bai, a 26-year-old UX designer, told Al Jazeera.

At the same time, however, Bai wondered whether “a normal person could get so much help.”

“Maybe she and her husband are very well-connected or come from very rich families,” Bai said.

“Maybe it’s all true, maybe it’s only half the story,” she said, suspecting that some details of the rescue may have been changed to portray officials in a more positive light.

“Nowadays in China it is sometimes difficult to know what to believe and who to believe,” she added.

Bai is not the only one who has reflected on the circumstances and details of Yu’s ordeal.

When the story gained national media attention and went viral on Chinese social media in November and December, people began asking questions.

“How could they involve so many people to help her, and how could they do it so quickly?” asked Li Xueqing, a 31-year-old marketer from Suzhou.

“Healthcare in China is very poor in many places, so I don’t think Yu’s story shows how patients in her situation are usually treated,” Li told Al Jazeera.

Yu’s survival has transformed from the story of a dramatic rescue to a symbol of entitlement and privilege in contemporary China, with some calling her the “Shanghai Princess” of Tibet.

The story became so well known that Chinese authorities and media outlets investigated signs of wrongdoing regarding the resources mobilized to rescue Yu.

So far there is little evidence that abuse of office or power played a role.

Around the same time that Yu’s rescue was being analyzed by a skeptical online community in China, another story about overcoming incredible odds emerged on Chinese social media.

She, too, was met with equally cheerless reactions.

A lottery player in the central Chinese city of Nanchang won the equivalent of almost $31 million from the state welfare lottery in early December.

The winner had reportedly spent a sum of $14,000 on nearly 50,000 sets of identical lottery numbers, each earning him around $625.

Additionally, his total winnings were tax-free due to the relatively small prize money for each individual bet.

The circumstances immediately raised suspicions.

“He probably had help from someone on the inside,” one user on the Chinese social media platform Weibo speculated.

Both China’s healthcare sector and the state lottery have previously been plagued by stories of embezzlement and corruption.

“There is a lot of money being stolen and bribes paid in many areas in China, so we are naturally suspicious,” Li said from Suzhou about the incredulous efforts to rescue Yu in Tibet and the unprecedented lottery win in Nanchang.

The increasing public skepticism also suggests that successes in life do not match the experiences of ordinary Chinese, said Jodie Peng, a high school teacher from Shenzhen.

“Most people have neither won big in the lottery nor experienced an entire community helping them in a medical emergency,” she told Al Jazeera.

Their own trust in the Chinese healthcare system has also been tested in recent years.

Your grandfather died of COVID-19 last year in an overcrowded public hospital before overworked medical staff had a chance to properly care for him. Peng was also a victim of medical fraud related to the post-surgical treatment she received several years ago.

“So it was of course nice to hear about the lottery winner in Nanchang and the successful rescue of the Shanghai woman in Tibet. But this kind of thing doesn’t happen in the Chinese world where I live,” she said.

China’s party-approved “positive energy” stories

Stories are circulating in Chinese media and on the Internet, according to Associate Professor Yao-Yuan Yeh, who teaches Chinese studies at the University of St. Thomas in the United States often reflect the desired narratives of the ruling Chinese Communist Party (CCP) more than the lived experiences of the public.

“The Chinese internet is full of stories supported by the Chinese state,” Yeh told Al Jazeera.

China’s leaders have repeatedly called on the media to spread stories with “positive energy” to uplift and inspire people.

Because the Internet is heavily monitored and regulated in China, stories and comments that do not support government policy can be quickly removed by censors without warning or explanation.

When public data showed that Chinese youth unemployment When the figure hit a record 21.3 percent in June, China’s censors shut down critical discussions of the numbers online and removed negative comments about the state of China’s economy.

The following month, the publication of youth unemployment data in China was suspended.

Combating “negativity” has also led authorities to target individuals.

As a doctor based in Wuhan Li WenliangIn early December 2019, when he began warning colleagues about the emergence of a malignant respiratory disease that later became known as COVID-19, he was arrested by police for “spreading rumors.”

A few months later, Li succumbed to the virus.

The lengths some are willing to go to suppress bad news in China drew online ridicule last year when a student at a Nanchang college discovered a rat’s head in his rice flour in the cafeteria, prompting canteen staff, the school and attacked a local food inspection office, claiming it was duck meat.

The catering company then threatened legal action against anyone who spread “rumors” about its food, while students were told by school staff not to talk about the rodent’s head in the rice.

“If those in power even try to cover up a rat’s head, it’s difficult to trust anything you hear or see in the media,” Li said from Suzhou.

Peng from Shenzhen agreed.

“There are so many problems in China right now with the economy, corruption and many other things,” she said.

“You can’t hide everything behind a few positive stories,” she added.

“We should be able to openly discuss China’s problems, otherwise the lack of trust will only spread.”