Investors should follow Golden麒麟 analyst reports for authoritative, professional, timely, and comprehensive analysis to uncover potential thematic opportunities! Today, New Oriental Education & Technology Group announced the appointment of Teacher Chen Xingjia as Chief Consultant for New Oriental Education, Dongfang Zhenxuan, and New Oriental Cultural Tourism, with an annual salary of 1.5 million RMB. Simultaneously, Teacher Yu Minhong has joined the Heng Hui Foundation initiated by Teacher Chen Xingjia, and New Oriental Education & Technology Group will donate no less than 1 million RMB annually to the foundation. This move deserves significant praise for Teacher Yu.

Returning to the recent controversies involving Luo Yonghao and Jia Guolong, a friend remarked in a group chat yesterday: Isn't it just some criticism? Isn't it just being targeted by netizens? How can an entrepreneur with decades of experience appear so visibly "shaken"?

Then how has Teacher Yu Minhong managed to survive?

Interestingly, New Oriental is also a client of Hua & Hua. The iconic slogan "New Oriental, Teachers are Excellent" is reportedly crafted by Hua & Hua.

Speaking of which, shouldn't we feel more empathy for Teacher Yu Minhong? Luo Yonghao has criticized him almost relentlessly for twenty years—targeting New Oriental's structure, Yu Minhong personally, their values, and business ethics. Yet Yu Minhong has consistently maintained one stance: endure the criticism, take the hits, and keep working.

This leads to a fascinating question: Why can Yu Minhong withstand two decades of criticism without collapsing, while Jia Guolong visibly loses control after just one incident?

This isn't a matter of personality but rather a systemic difference. Thus, during a car ride, Lao Ji spent 40 minutes writing this article!

Superficially, it appears to be about "emotional management," but fundamentally, it stems from differences in their "psychological account structures."

Many might simplistically claim: "Yu Minhong has a thick skin." "Jia Guolong is more sensitive."

This is an entirely unprofessional explanation.

The real distinction is: Yu Minhong's "psychological accounts" long ago opened a separate "public criticism account"; whereas Jia Guolong tightly binds his "self-worth" to "public evaluation."

What does this mean? Yu Minhong accepted early on that his work is highly public-facing—both New Oriental and later Dongfang Zhenxuan essentially operate under intense public scrutiny.

Thus, deep down, he expects "being criticized" as part of the norm, not an exception.

In contrast, Jia Guolong has largely operated within a relatively insulated entrepreneurial comfort zone: the餐饮 industry, supply chain circles, management circles—rarely being dragged into nationwide debates.

The real shock for him wasn't the criticism itself, but the sudden realization: "I'm no longer in a safe zone."

Yu Minhong isn't "resistant to criticism"; he simply "stopped relying on external applause long ago."

Many misunderstand Yu Minhong, assuming he possesses exceptional "endurance."

That's not the case.

The true difference lies in how Yu Minhong derives his self-worth—not from "external validation" but from a "long-term sense of mission."

Reflect on his journey:

College entrance exam failures Near-death entrepreneurial experiences Multiple existential crises at New Oriental The "double reduction" policy nearly wiping everything out Rising from the ashes again

When someone survives structural blows of this magnitude, they naturally develop a mindset: "Public opinion" becomes a secondary variable.

It's not unimportant, but it always ranks after "survival, achieving goals, leading the organization forward."

Meanwhile, Jia Guolong's path with Xibei has been one of smooth brand growth: brand success, scaling success, and a largely positive public image.

This creates a psychologically risky structure: "I am a good person" + "the public should understand me" + "my words deserve善意 interpretation."

When this expectation shatters, the impact is structural, not merely emotional.

The real watershed: Are you "a warrior in battle" or "a curator of image"?

These two types of founders differ fundamentally: Yu Minhong has long operated in a "survival battlefield"; Jia Guolong has been too comfortable in a "brand exhibition hall."

On the battlefield, founders naturally understand:

You will inevitably be misunderstood You will inevitably be criticized You will inevitably be taken out of context You will inevitably become a target

Thus, you develop a psychological immune system: distinguishing noise from actionable reality.

However, staying too long in the "brand exhibition hall" leads to degradation:

You start caring about every evaluation You begin craving "being understood" You feel the need to "explain clearly" You react emotionally

And nearly all damaging public crises spiral out of control once you start with "Let me explain..."

From a decision-making perspective, this is a classic case of "role misalignment."

If you are an entrepreneur, founder, or public figure, you must accept a harsh reality: You aren't speaking for your "true self" but bearing consequences for "a projected symbol."

Public discourse never targets you personally—it channels:

Sentiments toward capital Sentiments toward large corporations Sentiments toward successful individuals Sentiments toward injustice

Yu Minhong long ago accepted being a "target." Jia Guolang clearly hasn't completed this psychological transition.

Thus, every response he makes—"But I'm not really like that"—pitches against "the public's need for an emotional outlet," a losing game structurally.

Truly mature leaders must possess one ability: emotional decentralization.

Having accompanied many founders, I've observed that everyone reaching a certain scale faces this challenge: How to separate "personal emotions" from "corporate destiny"?

Mature leaders must achieve three things: 1. Not equating public criticism with "self-denial"; 2. Not treating public misunderstanding as "a grievance that must be clarified"; 3. Not injecting personal emotions into corporate decision-making.

In Yu Minhong, you see a classic trait: He long ago treated "being criticized" as part of entrepreneurial costs.

In Jia Guolong's case, he's clearly still handling "a public company-level舆论 incident" with "I can't bear this grievance."

This isn't about who's right or wrong—it's a difference in stages.

To put it bluntly: Yu Minhong was tempered by "era hardships"; Jia Guolong grew up in a "favorable era."

The former experienced genuine existential risks; the latter expanded mostly during favorable cycles.

This shapes two entirely different psychological structures:

One thinks: As long as the system survives, criticism doesn't matter The other thinks: I work so hard—why don't you understand me?

The former is suited to captain ships through storms; the latter excels at managing brands in calm weather.

A word to all founders: If your company has reached a scale with influence and public presence, you will inevitably face being misunderstood—repeatedly, extensively, and persistently.

This is an occupational cost, not a personal ordeal.

True maturity isn't: "I've finally learned not to care what others say." It is: "I've stopped factoring external opinions into my decision-making system."

Finally, a phrase I often share with founders: When you start becoming a target, it means you've truly stepped into the arena. The real danger isn't being criticized—it's not being ready to be that target.