(Note: This article originally comes from 李龙 (Li Long), a very prolific writer about Chinese WAG from Zhihu (Chinese Quora/Reddit) here. Link to original: https://www.zhihu.com/question/2096473940185162293/answer/2098043979883459673. Translated and mildly edited and added context for clarity by Google Translate and me. The article is broken up into two parts due to Reddit's character count.)
In 2026, the Chinese women’s gymnastics team climbed back to being the best team in the world. Behind this gold medal is countless stories—it is the result of the blood, sweat, and tears of an entire generation of gymnasts, brought to fruition by a perfect alignment of perfect timing, favourable circumstances, and advantageous leadership. The last time the Chinese women’s team won the world championship title was in 2006: exactly two decades ago. In fact, it has been eight years since the team last secured any medal at the World Championships. The decade following the Rio Olympics was a period of decline for the Chinese women’s team, but the 2026 squad has finally offered fans a glimpse of the first light of dawn breaking through the darkness.
To sum it up in two thoughts:
A decade spent breaking out of the chrysalis does not yet mean the butterfly has fully emerged, but it does reveal the glimmer of its eventual arrival.
A twenty-year cycle encapsulates all the ups and downs of gymnastics, while also signaling that the road ahead remains long and arduous.
I. The Long, Arduous Decade of the Women’s Gymnastics Team
It is well known that the Chinese gymnastics team suffered a major setback during the Rio Olympic cycle. Once regarded as a "dream team," they failed to secure a single gold medal in Rio, managing only two bronze medals—one in the men’s team event and one in the women’s—marking the worst performance in one of China’s traditionally dominant sports. Following this defeat, the team faced intense public criticism and was even singled out as the primary reason why China finished only third in the overall gold medal tally at the Rio Games.
In the wake of the Rio Olympics, the Chinese gymnastics team—having learned a painful, hard-won lesson—was forced to confront a stark reality:
While gymnasts themselves may view the team event as the most significant and prestigious honor, it is the total number of gold medals that serves as the team’s "lifeline." These medals are the key performance indicators for their leadership and the essential benchmark required for the team’s continued survival. In Rio, despite the team’s desperate efforts to secure two bronze medals—achieved against a backdrop of rapid progress from other global powerhouses—these results were not seen as an honor. Instead, they were viewed as "evidence of failure" and proof that the team had failed to deliver gold for the nation.
But, winning in the team event has become increasingly difficult.
Gymnastics powerhouses like the United States, Russia, and Japan continue to grow stronger, increasingly embracing a scientific approach to the sport. Meanwhile, nations such as Brazil, Italy, Great Britain, and Germany—and even smaller countries like Switzerland, the Philippines, and Colombia—are consistently producing exceptional talent. The powerhouses benefit from an ever-expanding base of participants, with more and more people willing to take up the sport. Smaller nations, unburdened by heavy expectations, view any success as a delightful surprise, while a lack of results is simply taken in stride. China, by contrast, stands alone. Its gymnastics program is plagued by persistent scandals and highly inconsistent performance. The number of people willing to pursue gymnastics is dwindling, and many athletes are opting to switch to other sports: notable examples include diving Olympic champion Chen Yuxi, who originally trained in gymnastics but switched to diving at age 6. Yet, even as the talent pool shrinks, the state’s demands on the gymnastics team remain undiminished. They are still expected to deliver a high tally of gold medals and produce impressive, tangible results. The general public, looking at China’s population of 1.4 billion, often asks, "How is it possible that, out of 1.4 billion people, we can't find someone to win a gold medal?" They fail to consider how many people are actually willing to train in gymnastics, or whether China’s "gymnastics population" is truly comparable to that of the U.S., Russia, or Japan.
The Chinese gymnastics team’s only remaining advantages are its state-backed system, which provides excellent resource support compared to other nations, and its decades of accumulated training experience. However, this expertise is rapidly losing its value as technical standards evolve. The team also possesses highly decorated, veteran coaches; yet, these coaches have their own personal ambitions for success and prestige, and are often unwilling to simply burn themselves out for the sake of the nation. Furthermore, the team includes athletes driven by patriotism: individuals willing to sacrifice everything for their country. While athletes in other nations have the freedom to walk away at any time, China’s sports system ensures that its athletes can effectively be treated as "expendable resources" in the pursuit of national glory. (Chinese gymnasts must get approval to retire from their provincial team before they actually retire.)
Under these circumstances, following the Rio Olympics, the Chinese gymnastics team underwent a painful transformation.
The team event is no longer the primary objective. Instead, the Chinese gymnastics team has been forced to shift its focus toward individual events, pinning its hopes on securing gold medals in specific event finals.
Everyone knows that team events represent the enduring competitiveness of a nation. Everyone knows that a team gold medal secures a place for every member on the "wall of champions." (There’s a wall of champions in China’s training gym that Olympic and World Champions go on. Gymnasts often say their dream is to end up on it.) And everyone knows that focusing exclusively on individual apparatuses—a lopsided, unbalanced approach—is fundamentally unscientific. Yet, winning a team title is incredibly difficult. Teams from Japan, the United States, and Russia continue to improve. Yet, the Chinese gymnastics team lacks the confidence to challenge for the team gold: the women’s team, at least.
Take the vault: previously, Chinese gymnasts could keep pace with the world’s elite without losing too much ground. It was always a weak event for China. But now, the consensus is that training for it is futile, so we’ve simply stopped. In the eyes of the leadership, there is no meaningful difference between trailing by half a point or by three or four points; we’ve essentially given up entirely.
As for the floor exercise, the Chinese team once had a few athletes capable of competing at a world-class level, allowing for a respectable team score. Then came Simone Biles, whose dominance in the event is overwhelming; additionally, her influence has spurred a rapid rise in the difficulty of floor across Western nations. To compete here, we would need to rebuild from the ground up—focusing on raw strength and fundamental technique—but that process is far too slow and far too late. So, we’ve abandoned this as well.
The uneven bars were once a traditional stronghold for China. However, gymnasts like Nina Derwael and Kaylia Nemour have pioneered new skills and connections to maximize their scores—methods that the Chinese team simply cannot match. To compete with them, we would need to overhaul our core techniques, which is no longer feasible. We tried and found it immensely difficult. Also, we realized it would also directly clash with the interests of Russia, another powerhouse on the uneven bars. So, we decided it wasn't worth the trouble.
Given this situation, the only choice left for the Chinese team was this:
To pool the nation’s entire resources—regardless of an athlete’s natural aptitude, whether they excel at the vault or the uneven bars—and force everyone to train on the balance beam. It is a "survival of the fittest" gamble, a ruthless, all-or-nothing bet aimed solely at securing a gold medal on the balance beam.
This is the only strategy that can safeguard the positions of the officials in charge. And the result of this approach? The only gold medal won by the Chinese women’s gymnastics team over the last three Olympic Games: the one earned by Guan Chenchen in Tokyo.
Following the Tokyo Olympics, the outbreak of the Russia-Ukraine war, a "black swan" event, led to Russia’s exclusion from gymnastics competitions throughout the Paris Olympic cycle. Sensing an opportunity, the Chinese gymnastics team identified the uneven bars as a key area for a breakthrough, focusing their efforts there and achieving notable success (winning gold at the 2021, 2022, and 2023 World Championships). However:
Kaylia Nemour, a formidable powerhouse on the uneven bars, burst onto the scene.
Nemour exerts a level of dominance on the uneven bars reminiscent of Simone Biles. She possesses an exceptionally high degree of difficulty, a skill named after her, long, complex sequences of transitions between bars, and a terrifyingly high level of execution and consistency—all while continuing to innovate and improve. Without a radical technical revolution, the Chinese team’s traditional routines simply cannot compete with her. The breakthrough on the uneven bars offered only a fleeting glimmer of hope for the Chinese women’s gymnastics team, which soon faded back into a profound, silent darkness.
Meanwhile, the inherently low success rate on the balance beam has repeatedly thwarted the Chinese team’s gold-medal ambitions. Throughout the Paris cycle, the team frequently entered finals with high expectations for gold on the beam, only to see their efforts collapse. The one year they didn’t falter—2023—happened to coincide with the return of Simone Biles, who delivered a stellar performance to claim the world title, leaving the Chinese team empty-handed once again.
A short-sighted, gold-medal-obsessed strategy has forced the Chinese team to lean heavily on a style rooted in extreme flexibility—a path that yields only a brief peak and relies on skills honed in childhood. Once athletes hit puberty, their performance often plummets rapidly. The consequence of "trying not to peak too early" and going all-in on the balance beam is a dismal success rate across routines, leading to recurring, catastrophic team collapses. One major international competition after another, the Chinese women’s gymnastics team has suffered spectacular meltdowns in the team event—with three or four major errors becoming the norm—the only things changing being which athlete faltered and on which apparatus the fall occurred. Ultimately, the Chinese women’s gymnastics team found itself repeatedly finishing in sixth or seventh place in the team event—results that left spectators in stunned silence and the athletes in tears.
In stark contrast, the World Championship women’s team title has remained firmly in the hands of the United States since 2011, never once slipping from their grasp. By prioritizing strength-based training, the U.S. team has forged a distinct path to success, further bolstered by the unparalleled competitive edge provided by Simone Biles. Even in years when Biles was absent, such as 2011 and 2022, the U.S. team’s overwhelming depth allowed them to secure the team gold regardless. For over a decade now, they have reigned as the undisputed juggernaut of women’s gymnastics.
The years following the Rio Olympics have been a bleak, dark decade for Chinese women’s gymnastics.
It has been a decade defined by the decline of the team.
II. The Turning Point in 2026: A Rare Alignment of Favorable Conditions
Perhaps there is an inescapable law within the Chinese sports world:
A discipline often only finds the hope for a rebound once it has hit rock bottom. Consider Chinese football or basketball: only when achieving success becomes a distant, extravagant dream do those involved finally commit to the hard, foundational work of youth development. It is this return to the grassroots that has led to recent, albeit sporadic, breakthroughs, such as the emergence of young Chinese football talents or the medal won by the men’s football team at the Asian Games.
This is no coincidence.
As long as a sport still holds extractable value—and as long as higher-level officials still expect to wring some form of benefit from it—those in charge have no room to do the real, substantive work. Instead, they are pressured to squeeze out every last drop of value. Policies like the naturalization of athletes or the "U23 rule" in football are products of this very dynamic. Under such circumstances, implementing scientific reforms or simply doing what "ought to be done" becomes an immense challenge.
Gymnastics is no different.
It is not that the leaders of the gymnastics team lack intelligence; they are well aware of what needs to be done. Yet, they are constrained by orders that restrict their every move. Following the Paris Olympics, the plight of the women’s gymnastics team became widely known. Higher-level officials, meanwhile, have grown somewhat "despairing"—or perhaps resigned—regarding the team’s performance. The prevailing attitude has become: "Do as you will; if you win gold, great; if not, well, so be it."
In this environment, the Chinese women’s team has, paradoxically, gained some breathing room to focus on the work that truly matters. Strength training is receiving greater emphasis, solutions are being sought for older athletes, and routines are being choreographed to rely less on extreme flexibility. (Think rings, sheep jumps, inbars, one-arm pirouettes.) While the gap between China and the U.S. team remains significant, one cannot expect an overnight transformation.
Throughout this process, no one expects immediate results, nor does anyone anticipate a radical, short-term metamorphosis of the women’s team. Simply put, these are the right things to do—and they must be done. This reflects the professional conscience and sense of duty held by this generation of gymnastics personnel. And so, we are finally seeing athletes of older ages stepping onto the stage of international competition. With the inclusion of 26-year-old Deng Yalan and 23-year-old Yang Fanyuwei last year, and 24-year-old Du Siyu this year, the gymnastics team is gradually attempting to break away from the aesthetic ideal of the "pale, thin, and prepubescent" gymnast. Through their presence, these athletes are sending a clear message to the domestic gymnastics community: hyper-flexible elements are not strictly necessary, and reaching physical maturity is not a dead end. It is time to open our eyes and realize that there is a much wider world out there.
I mentioned in a past article here that: https://www.zhihu.com/question/2082788219729307247/answer/2083524445084374977
"Those who follow gymnastics can sense that the Chinese women’s team has grown more competitive during this current (2025-2028) Olympic cycle.
At last year’s World Championships, the Chinese team secured a world title in an individual apparatus event and a bronze medal in the all-around; indeed, the team has delivered several standout performances. At the recent Asian Championships, athletes like Ke Qinqin and Xie Guying debuted the DTY (Double-Twisting Yurchenko) vault, while Zhang Yihan showcased a floor exercise routine with a difficulty level that ranks among the world’s elite. Furthermore, the team’s theoretical scoring potential has, for the first time in years, returned to the top spot globally. This offers a glimmer of hope for a Chinese women’s gymnastics program that has long stagnated.
The current strategy for the women’s team is to maintain their traditional strength on the balance beam while gradually enhancing both overall capability and consistency. While this doesn't represent an overnight transformation, it is fair to say that achieving positive adjustments—given the deeply entrenched, long-standing issues—is a commendable step forward. Fundamental problems persist, such as clear regional bias in domestic scoring, a reliance on flexibility-based routines that leaves athletes vulnerable during growth spurts, and a lack of visible progress in strength training. Nevertheless, the actual competitive results have been solid, if not impressive.
Consequently, when compared to other nations, the Chinese women’s team is currently quite competitive. Some fans are already speculating about a potential gold-medal run in the team event at this year’s World Championships—a prospect that is not entirely far-fetched.
That said, in my view, what we are witnessing is essentially an improvement for the Chinese women’s team only relative to other teams.
Personally, I don’t believe this squad possesses an exceptionally high level of absolute strength. Its current competitiveness stems primarily from the fact that other major gymnastics powers are also in a transitional phase.
The Russian team, having returned from suspension, is still navigating the current judging trends. As for the United States, with Simone Biles having announced her retirement (though one can never be certain if she might return in the coming years), the team is currently led by a new generation; athletes like Hezly Rivera and Skye Blakely show great potential, but they have yet to fully mature into consistent, top-tier competitors. The Brazilian team has relied on the same core group for over a decade, leaving a significant gap in new talent. Italy, having seen stars like D'Amato achieve great success, is now navigating the ups and downs of a generational transition. France boasts a formidable new talent in Colas, but the disparity between her and the rest of the newcomers is stark; meanwhile, the gradual fading of veterans like Santos and Charpy has made France’s transition period both uncertain and painful. Canada continues to lean on athletes like Black and Olsen, but their inability to consistently produce new stars has left them looking increasingly fatigued.
Consequently, a key reason the Chinese women’s team appears so competitive right now is that we are in a unique window of time. Almost all of their rivals are undergoing generational shifts, whereas the Chinese team’s overall strength is currently on an upward trajectory.
To be fair, I wouldn’t argue that the current Chinese women’s team is stronger than the Brazilian or Italian teams heading into the Paris Olympics, nor that they surpass the Russian team from the Tokyo Olympic cycle. They might not even be as strong as the 2019 Chinese team. Yet, in this specific window, with nations across the globe facing a shortage of emerging talent, the Chinese women’s team seems to... wait, what’s that?
Interestingly, the Japanese women’s team is also seeing its strength rise alongside China’s.
With the return of Aiko Sugihara and the sudden emergence of new star Misa Nishiyama, the Japanese team has made significant strides compared to the previous cycle. In recent years, they have secured gold medals at several major international competitions, demonstrating impressive potential. That said, Japan’s foundation remains relatively shallow; despite their rapid ascent, they still struggle to pose a serious threat to the Chinese team. At the Asian Championships, for instance, Japan suffered a defeat against China by about 5 points—a competition that also served as one of the rare occasions in recent years where the Chinese team displayed an exceptionally high level of intensity and fire."
This is what we call "perfect timing."
To reiterate the above, the dominant U.S. team has entered a period of transition, and many other nations are also undergoing major roster overhauls, with star athletes retiring or taking breaks. While the competitive strength of other countries is on the decline, the Chinese women’s team is on the rise. Although Japan has shown clear improvement, their current level of competitiveness still poses no real threat to China. Consequently, China finds itself in a unique window of opportunity: a moment when almost every other nation is caught in a lull, having exhausted their previous generation of talent before the next has fully emerged.
There could be no better time to secure a medal in the team event.
This year’s World Gymnastics Championships are being held in Rotterdam. Originally, this was set to be the year the Russian team returned to international competition following their suspension. However, due to the war in Ukraine, several Russian athletes were deemed to be a "threat to their international relations" by Western nations for expressing support for Russia. Dutch authorities denied visas to three Russian athletes: Listunova, Melnikova, and Kalmykova. This forced Russia to compete in Rotterdam with a B-team.
And these three, Listunova, Melnikova, and Kalmykova, are Russia’s top three all-around gymnasts, and the core of their competitive strength.
In this year’s women’s all-around competition, Russia’s Roshchina won the silver medal; yet, her all-around performance level is not quite on par with those three.
The timing of the visa denials was particularly critical. The notification of denying visas came on October 13th, with the competition beginning on the 17th.
In other words, to be perfectly objective, the Chinese team’s raw strength does not currently surpass that of the Russians. Even without their three key athletes, Russia still scored 163 points in the preliminaries, a margin quite close to China’s score. But with three of their top gymnasts sidelined, the Chinese team certainly has no reason to fear a Russian squad forced to compete with such a weakened lineup.
This is what we call "favourable circumstances".
It is worth noting that since 2011, the women’s team gold medal at the World Championships has belonged exclusively to the United States. It has never gone to anyone else. This is not the scenario the International Gymnastics Federation (FIG) wishes to see. A state of total dominance by one nation is highly detrimental to the promotion of the sport, and within the FIG, there is no shortage of people eager to provide a counterweight to the United States. While the U.S. team has long been a powerhouse, a downward trend in their scoring has become apparent in recent years. At the Paris Olympics, Simone Biles did not receive the preferential treatment one might expect. She even got a 0.3 deduction by the judging panel for “not saluting long enough” in the balance beam final. Additionally, for the 2026 World Championships, the U.S. team was relegated to the earliest qualifying session on Sunday instead of Monday. These signs suggest that the FIG is keen to cultivate a rival capable of balancing the scales against the U.S. Furthermore, given the significant investment China pours into its state-sponsored sports system, the FIG has shown a relatively more lenient approach toward Chinese athletes in its scoring.
Moreover, with the introduction of a mixed-gender team event at the Los Angeles Olympics—featuring the uneven bars, balance beam, and floor exercise for women—the FIG faced a potential problem. Because the floor exercise typically carries a lower risk of error, there was a danger that every nation might choose it for the final rotation, draining the competition of suspense. To prevent this, the FIG applied exceptionally strict scoring to the floor exercise at this year’s World Championships, resulting in dismal execution scores even for top-tier gymnasts.
The FIG’s intent is clear: for the sake of spectacle and suspense, teams cannot simply rely on the floor exercise to secure safe, predictable points. Instead, they are forced to contend with the volatility of the uneven bars and the balance beam. The FIG wants a fierce, high-stakes battle—a "knife-fight"—rather than a dull, uneventful procession toward a foregone conclusion.
The floor exercise happens to be a strength for the U.S. and Japan, while remaining a persistent weakness for China.
The balance beam, by contrast, is China’s greatest advantage over the United States.
Under this specific scoring regime, the Chinese team has finally gained the leverage needed to go head-to-head with the formidable American squad.
This is what we call "advantageous leadership".
In an exceptionally rare turn of events, the year 2026 saw the Chinese women’s gymnastics team finally benefit from a perfect alignment of the above. After a long period of struggling in the doldrums, the team suddenly realized that the gold medal in the team event might not be as out of reach as once thought.
Yet, one final, formidable obstacle stood in their way.
To contend for the team title, the Chinese squad would need to deliver a virtually flawless performance, executing every routine across all apparatuses without a single error.
In contrast, their rivals, the United States, have made hitting every routine a regular occurrence. Since 2011, this has become the norm for them. The Chinese team, however, has frequently suffered three or four major errors in a single team final, time and again handing away medals that were well within their grasp. When it comes to success rates and consistency, they simply lack the confidence. This recurring tendency to falter under pressure has long been the Achilles' heel of the Chinese women’s gymnastics team.
The last time the Chinese women’s team managed to complete every single routine successfully was back in 2006.
That was 20 years ago. Over the past two decades, the team has either experienced catastrophic meltdowns or smaller, yet still costly, mistakes. Never once have they managed a completely clean performance across the board.
Ultimately, the possibility of the Chinese women’s team winning gold hinges entirely on this slim, improbable chance of a "flawless" performance.
III. A Twenty-Year Cycle: An Echo of History Where Every Routine Was Successfully Completed
Against this backdrop, the Chinese women’s gymnastics team stepped onto the World Championships stage, carrying the shadows of the past alongside a faint, flickering glimmer of hope.
In such circumstances, neither the fans nor the athletes themselves felt any sense of certainty.
Just recently, at the 2026 Asian Games, each of the five Chinese team members had a major error during the qualification round, leaving the team ranked behind Japan. The lineup for the World Championships was identical to the one fielded at the Asian Games. Each of the five athletes had her own vulnerabilities. Zhang Yihan was in abysmal form, repeatedly posting disastrously low scores on the floor exercise this year, with a history of significant errors on the vault as well. Qiu Qiyuan struggled with a low success rate on the uneven bars, making her nearly impossible to rely on. Ke Qinqin, a newcomer to the senior level this year, was navigating the physical challenges of puberty—leading to a loss of execution and major mistakes on both the vault and the balance beam; Du Siyu, a 24-year-old veteran, competed only on the vault and uneven bars, yet she made major errors on bars during both the Asian Games and World Championships qualifiers; even Zhang Qingying—who won all-around silver and the balance beam world title last year—suffered consecutive falls on the beam at the Asian Games. And yet, she was still the most consistent gymnast on the Chinese team.
However, a factor no one had anticipated before the competition ended up saving the Chinese women’s team.
Throughout this Olympic cycle, the Chinese women’s program was afforded the space to focus on steady, foundational development; consequently, most of the age-eligible gymnasts were trained as all-arounders. Among the five athletes in this squad, only Du Siyu could be considered a "specialist" (to be fair, she possessed routines for balance beam and floor exercise, they simply lacked competitiveness). As for the other four, while they may have had weaker events, they each had at least a serviceable routine—ensuring they wouldn't suffer a catastrophic collapse in scoring.
This guaranteed one thing:
For this Chinese women’s gymnastics team, there would be no scenario—at any point—where they would be left with a "zero score" (a failure to field a valid routine). This gave the women’s gymnastics team the courage to go all out.
"Go for it. If you make a mistake or aren't in top form, we have others who can step in."
In 2006, the Chinese women’s gymnastics team’s ability to deliver clean, error-free routines throughout the team final was largely due to the team's depth. After the preliminary round, Li Ya, who was tasked with contending for gold on the uneven bars and balance beam, was in very poor form. Yet, even if Li Ya couldn't compete, the team had Pang Panpan ready to compete on the uneven bars and He Ning to hop on the balance beam. Not in good form? No problem! We had plenty of other athletes to call upon.
A stark contrast to this was the men’s team event at the 2024 Paris Olympics. Because the Chinese team’s two primary gold-medal contenders, Zou Jingyuan and Liu Yang, did not have routines for horizontal bar, the team was left with absolutely no margin for error. Everyone knew Su Weide was not in good form and that his horizontal bar routine was unreliable. But there was no other choice. With no one else available, he had to step up; his score was essential. If they had swapped him for Shi Cong, they might have secured a score on horizontal bar, but they would have lost points on vault.
Back in 2006, the team's depth saved the Chinese squad.
In 2026, the development of all-around gymnasts has once again come to the rescue.
To be objective, none of these athletes—Zhang Qingying, Ke Qinqin, Zhang Yihan, or Qiu Qiyuan—are "all-arounders" in the traditional sense. Zhang Qingying is only world-class on the balance beam, while her other three apparatuses are serviceable; Ke Qinqin lacks high-difficulty elements outside of the balance beam; Zhang Yihan struggles significantly on the balance beam and is inconsistent across the other three events; and Qiu Qiyuan’s vault and floor exercise scores are not that great, falling well below the level of the world's elite. Their status as "all-around" gymnasts is essentially propped up by high scores on just two apparatuses: the uneven bars and the balance beam.
However, when the entire team’s success is at stake—and there is a need for someone to step in when a teammate is underperforming—having these "backup" routines is far better than having none at all.
In 2006, Pang Panpan’s uneven bars routine wasn’t particularly strong, but it was reliable enough to fill the gap.
Similarly, He Ning’s balance beam routine in 2006 was not extraordinary, yet it consistently delivered a solid score.
Back in 2006, athletes like Zhang Nan, He Ning, and Pang Panpan all possessed a certain degree of all-around capability. The 2026 Chinese women’s team shares this trait, avoiding the "tightrope-walking" precariousness seen in the Chinese men’s team performance in Paris.
If Zhang Yihan suffers a major collapse on the floor exercise during the preliminaries, Qiu Qiyuan can step in. If Zhang Yihan injures her foot on the vault, Zhang Qingying is there to take her place.
The scenarios are strikingly similar. The script is identical.
Admittedly, even with this depth, the Chinese women’s team’s success rate in team events remains a point of concern (as evidenced by the meltdown during the Asian Games preliminaries). Nevertheless, executing a clean, successful team performance is by no means a pipe dream.
Throughout this current Olympic cycle, many athletes have adjusted their routine compositions. There has been an increase in strength-based elements, while flexibility-dependent moves have been scaled back. For instance, the uneven bars routines of Zhang Qingying and Ke Qinqin don’t have the traditional Chinese one-arm pirouettes and inbar elements—moves often used to inflate difficulty scores but which cause chronic shoulder and back injuries. This shift has helped maintain consistent training volume and higher proficiency in their routines, which in turn ensures a better success rate during competition.
Following 2006, Chinese routines became heavily reliant on flexibility-based elements, such as one-arm pirouettes and rings. While many athletes saw their theoretical difficulty scores climb rapidly, their routines proved difficult to execute consistently. These routines often looked "painful" to perform, and the athletes lacked the necessary mastery—a persistent issue that remained unresolved right up through the Paris Olympics.
This year, while high-risk routines still exist (such as Qiu Qiyuan’s uneven bars), their frequency has been significantly reduced. In fact, during the team final, Qiu Qiyuan even opted to lower her difficulty to ensure a more stable performance. In the end, the Chinese team pulled off a miracle, echoing their performance from 2006: they nailed all 12 routines without a single major error, delivering a flawless display in the team final. Their primary rivals—the United States, a team typically known for consistent, clean performances—posted the highest combined scores on vault, uneven bars, and floor exercise. However, a mishap on the balance beam proved costly, leaving them to finish just behind China by a razor-thin margin of 0.233 points.
A miracle comes full circle after twenty years.
On a more ironic note, this also marks the first time in many years that China has failed to qualify a gymnast for the uneven bars individual final, a discipline that has long been a traditional stronghold for the team. The last time China saw no gymnasts reach the uneven bars final at a major world-level competition was, once again, back in 2006, exactly twenty years ago.
IV. A Long and Arduous Road Ahead
The Chinese women’s gymnastics team’s return to the top of the podium in the team event, achieved under such challenging circumstances, is certainly a cause for joy, pride, and praise. However, when reflecting on the competition as a whole, I would advise readers to maintain a balanced perspective.
We should not claim it is "the Chinese women’s team finally returning to its absolute peak," nor should we say it is "a mere stroke of luck."
As mentioned, this gold medal involved many factors and does not necessarily reflect the full landscape of global gymnastics. The Chinese team had the capacity to contend for the gold, performed well when it counted, and succeeded—that is all, indeed excellent. Yet, in terms of true, elite-level dominance, there remains a significant gap.
Casual fans tend to focus primarily on the results (medals won).
Dedicated gymnastics fans, by contrast, look more closely at underlying strength and long-term trends.
The former determines how one is evaluated by officials and superiors; the latter reveals the true substance of one’s actual capability.
It is worth noting that this team gold was secured because the Chinese squad executed their routines cleanly, while the U.S. team suffered a fall on the balance beam—by a substitute they had to bring in. Furthermore, the U.S. team was also penalized for failing to meet specific skill requirements, where Blakely was deemed “lacking a dance connection” on beam. These are, in essence, low-probability events. We must take an honest look at our own strength: while we are currently competitive with the American squad, the U.S. has a pool of promising young talents who, if they reach their full potential, will make future contests extremely difficult for us.
The absence of Russia’s top athletes was not a matter of "luck," but rather a case of political factors directly interfering with the sporting competitions. Visa denials have occurred at the last two World Championships (regarding Israel last year and Russia this year), demonstrating that the ability of a host nation to unilaterally decide who can participate—a clear loophole—is no longer an isolated incident. Unless the FIG makes "guaranteeing entry for qualified athletes" a mandatory, non-negotiable condition for hosting, the entire system for organizing international events will become increasingly unreliable. The Russian Minister of Sport has argued that "nations failing to uphold their obligations should be stripped of their hosting rights." While this stance is bold and radical, it is not completely without merit. Regardless, this situation was neither controlled nor chosen by the Chinese gymnastics team. While China played no part in the visa denials, it has undeniably emerged as one of the primary beneficiaries. The real question is: can a team gold medal—won against a top rival’s depleted lineup—truly be considered a sign that the Chinese women’s team has "returned to the pinnacle of the world"? I believe this question is far more worthy of discussion than talking about the gold medal itself.
Furthermore, the upward trajectory of the Japanese team cannot be overlooked. While the Chinese women’s team is striving to "do the right, scientific thing," the Japanese team has consistently made "doing the right, scientific thing" their core pursuit. Japan has become a global powerhouse in vault and floor exercise, while their balance beam routines demonstrate world-class difficulty and stability. On the uneven bars, they have also seen the emergence of top-tier talent, such as Misa Nishiyama and Haruka Nakamura. Their momentum is even stronger than China’s, and their rate of improvement is faster; they have now firmly established themselves as serious contenders for medals. If the Chinese team fails to accelerate its progress over the next year or two, it is entirely possible that they could be overtaken by the Japanese women’s team.
Additionally, the loss of the World Championship team title—a crown the U.S. had held for 15 years—could well trigger the formation of an "Avengers-style" comeback. Simone Biles could return to competition at any moment. With the Los Angeles Olympics on the horizon, the U.S. team might very well look to bring her back to anchor the squad. Other prominent gymnasts—such as Sunisa Lee, Katelyn Ohashi, and Shilese Jones—have either signaled their intent to return or have already done so. Meanwhile, all-around standouts from smaller European nations, including Alice D'Amato and Jessica Gadirova, could also make a comeback at any time. The landscape of women’s gymnastics is shifting rapidly, and no one can claim a secure advantage.
(Part 2 will follow)
