Man Snatches “Lucky” Gourd from Shenyang Ring Road, Triggers Viral Outcry and Fine.

The fragile peace was shattered on the night of August 23, when a young man—later identified as Mr. Guo—pulled his car into the median, climbed the protective barrier, and snatched the gourd. He filmed the act, captioned the video with a boastful “二环葫芦我拿走了” (“I took the Second Ring gourd”), and uploaded it to his personal social‑media account. Within minutes the clip went viral, sparking an avalanche of criticism that painted the incident as reckless, selfish and a flagrant violation of a beloved community symbol.

The backlash was swift and unforgiving. Commentators accused Guo of treating public property as a prop for personal fame, and many voiced the belief that his apology would be little more than damage control. One particularly scathing remark summed up the prevailing mood: “是图好玩么？就是欠就是坏！就是想要流量而已，现在道歉是因为害怕了” (“Is it just for fun? It’s simply bad! He just wants traffic, and now apologizes because he’s scared”). The tone of the online discourse reflected a deeper frustration: a sense that the incident epitomized a growing disregard for rules and a yearning for quick online notoriety at the expense of communal values.

Under mounting pressure, Guo posted an official apology on his account, insisting that he had taken the gourd “just for fun” and offering what he called a “sincere apology.” He also confirmed that he had cooperated with the Shenyang traffic police. The authorities imposed a modest fine of 200 yuan (about US$28) and deducted nine points from his driver’s license—a standard penalty for illegal parking and endangering traffic. Beyond the legal repercussions, rumors began to circulate that the episode had disrupted Guo’s personal life. Several posts hinted that a wedding he had been planning was called off, suggesting that the scandal had “搅黄了自己的婚礼” (“ruined his own wedding”). While no official source has verified the cancellation, the narrative of personal loss has become an integral part of the public’s perception of the episode’s fallout.

The episode has struck a chord far beyond Shenyang’s city limits. For many Chinese net‑users, the gourd was more than a plant; it was a shared cultural touchstone, an emblem of luck that belonged to the community rather than a single individual. The swift, coordinated condemnation demonstrated how quickly collective sentiment can coalesce online when a symbol of local identity is threatened. It also revealed the power—and peril—of social‑media fame: a brief moment of attention can quickly morph into a lasting stain on reputation.

In the aftermath, the Shenyang traffic police reiterated their commitment to protecting public infrastructure and warned that repeat offenses would attract harsher penalties. Meanwhile, local officials have not announced any plans to replace the gourd, perhaps recognizing that the story itself has become part of the city’s modern folklore.

The “Shenyang Second Ring Gourd Incident,” as it has been dubbed in English-language summaries, offers a vivid illustration of how everyday objects can acquire outsized cultural significance in the digital age. It underscores a broader societal conversation about responsibility, the limits of personal expression, and the consequences of chasing virality at the expense of communal respect. For Guo, the episode has left a permanent mark—a fine, points on his license, a likely canceled wedding, and a lingering reputation as the man beloved landmark for a fleeting thrill. For the public, it serves as a reminder that some symbols are not meant to be owned, and that the court of public opinion can be swift, unforgiving, and, at times, more powerful than any legal sanction.