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Hundreds of flight cancellations turn a typhoon into a systems test. Reliability does not mean nothing goes wrong; it means airlines communicate earlier, recover faster, and give travelers realistic alternatives. #Typhoon# #Aviation# #TravelTech# #PodcastorAI#

As Typhoon Dolphin brings severe weather to East China, Hohhot extends its support to those on the front lines and everyone affected by the storm, expressing hope for a swift recovery and the safe return of normal life.

Heartwarming moment: Fierce winds from Typhoon Noul left a mother and daughter stranded in Dongguan, south China's Guangdong Province. A security guard rushed over and carried the child to safety, helping the pair escape the storm. #TyphoonNoul# #Guangdong# #Rescue# #China# #heartwarming#

China's Ministry of Water Resources on Sunday upgraded its flood-control emergency response for Jiangxi, Hunan and Guangdong provinces from Level IV to Level III, amid high risks of mountain floods due to the impact of Typhoon Noul. #XinhuaNews#

Watch us land one of our drone-boats inside a moving US Navy warship during RIMPAC. This world-first resupply mission was performed completely autonomously using a Splash Industries Typhoon USV.

Due to the impact of Typhoon Maysak, the flood threats in Guangxi has become severe. Guangxi Guiguan Electric Power Co., Ltd. leveraged its smart dispatching system to adjust reservoir operations at Xijin Hydropower Station in Hengzhou City, curbing flood peaks and easing downstream burdens. With all equipment functioning properly, teams stand by 24/7 to closely monitor weather, dam safety and hydrological information, safeguarding the lives and property of residents along the Yujiang River.

Typhoon Maysak brought record rainfall to Guangxi, with a 24-hour accumulation of 713.3mm recorded at Luwei town, Nanning. Rivers surged, and power facilities were hit hard. CSG activated a Level II emergency response, dispatching thousands of workers, drones, vehicles, and generators.⚡ From Guigang to Qinzhou, we're working 24/7 with local communities to restore power. The battle isn't over, but neither is our commitment. @DiscoverGuangxi @Helloguangxi1

Japan's Prime Minister briefed her country with wet hair last night. Beijing would have detained the citizen who filmed it. At 10:29 p.m. on Friday, a magnitude 5.6 earthquake struck Japan's Yamanashi Prefecture, registering a maximum seismic intensity of lower 6 in the town of Fujikawaguchiko at the foot of Mount Fuji. By 11:15 p.m. — forty-six minutes later — Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi was standing at the Prime Minister's Office briefing the nation. Crisis management center activated. Director-general-level emergency gathering team convened. Human life first. Information to the public, promptly and accurately. She was also visibly straight out of the bath. Hair still wet. No makeup. Takaichi posted on her own X account a short time later, in plain language: she had come directly from the bath without time to dry her hair or apply makeup, and apologized for her appearance. She did not have to volunteer that detail. She chose to. That choice is the story. Because somewhere about 1,700 miles to the west, operating under the same physics but a very different political philosophy, the first hour after a magnitude 5.6 earthquake would have looked nothing like this. It would not have been spent activating a crisis center, dispatching emergency teams, and putting the head of government in front of cameras to admit she had rushed straight out of the shower. It would have been spent deciding what to tell the public, what to delete, and which citizen with a camera to detain. We know because we have watched it happen. In Wuhan in early 2020, the doctors who tried to warn the world about a novel coronavirus were summoned by police and forced to sign confessions for "spreading rumors." The citizen journalists who filmed the morgues and the sealed apartment doors — Chen Qiushi, Fang Bin, Li Zehua — were disappeared by the state. Fang Bin would later be sentenced to three years in prison; he was held for the duration. In Zhengzhou in July 2021, passengers drowned trapped in a flooded subway tunnel while state propaganda ran headlines about heroic rescue. When BBC correspondent Robin Brant asked the local government how a metro system less than a decade old could leave passengers to die on a platform, the Henan branch of the Communist Youth League posted his whereabouts to its 1.6 million followers and called for people to track him down. Death threats followed within hours. In Hebei in August 2023, when the floodwaters from Typhoon Doksuri had to go somewhere, authorities diverted them away from Beijing and into Zhuozhou — and the Hebei provincial Party Secretary, Ni Yuefeng, publicly declared the province would "serve as a moat for the capital." Videos of the submerged villages disappeared from Chinese social media within hours. And in Sichuan in 2008, after a magnitude 8.0 earthquake killed at least 5,335 schoolchildren in school buildings that collapsed while government offices nearby remained standing — what citizens named "tofu-dreg schoolhouses" — the writer Tan Zuoren tried to compile a list of the dead. He was sentenced to five years in prison. Huang Qi, the activist who tried to help the parents, got three years; in 2019, the Party gave him twelve more on state-secrets charges. He is still inside. The pattern is not a series of accidents. It is a system. In the People's Republic of China, the function of the state in a disaster is not to serve the public. It is to protect the Party from the public. Compare and contrast. In Tokyo on Friday night, the head of government decided that telling the country what she knew, forty-six minutes after the ground stopped shaking, mattered more than how her hair looked. In Beijing under any equivalent scenario, the head of government would not be at a podium for hours, or days. The citizens with cameras would already be on a list. Wet hair is not the real headline. Wet hair is the headline because of what it accidentally exposes: a democracy is a system that runs toward its citizens in the dark. A dictatorship is a system that hides from them. Sanae Takaichi did not need to apologize for her hair. The Chinese Communist Party owes apologies it will never make, to families whose dead it never named. ACI — Aric Chen | Insights