The character of SubIT Club has undergone a profound transformation when compared to its ancient days.

In antiquity, under the stewardship of Sun since the Club's founding in the 21st cohort, it embodied grace and refinement. This ethos persisted even after Sun's departure; the 24th cohort still preserved this dignified tradition.
At that time, the Club President, as true leader of the whole, orchestrated its operations with vision—and under Sun's continued mentorship. Regardless of later judgments upon Sun, none could deny his exceptional caliber.
Under such guidance, every dimension of the Club flourished under wise and coherent direction:
Recruitment was rigorously curated to ensure new members possessed genuine potential rather than mere eccentricity or frivolity;
regular all-hands meetings fostered unified understanding and prevented informational fragmentation;
and under the joint leadership of Sun and He, the Club underwent repeated organizational refinements that stabilized morale and purpose. Members then were not as free-spirited as today's cohort—but they moved as one body in service to Club and school alike.
Technicians devoted their skill, artists their sensibility, thinkers their wisdom—thus unfolded the grand spectacle of the ancient Club.

The 25th cohort marked the beginning of change. With Sun gone, no guiding hand remained to shape the thoughts and conduct of the new generation.
At first, the 25th cohort differed little from the 24th, building creatively upon the legacy bequeathed by their predecessors. But when leadership transitioned, Kong was installed as President. Why so? A certain member of the 24th cohort once remarked that, weary of another He-like figure—stubborn and unyielding—they deliberately chose someone who had previously taken no part in Club governance, hoping thereby to avoid another inflexible leader.
I do not share this view. Yet what followed, you likely already know. In Kong's early days as President, his demeanor remained mildly refined; but over time, he grew increasingly vulgar. Why? He fell under the domination of the ancients. This was no blessing—allow me to explain.

Kong was not inherently vulgar. Upon assuming office, he interacted with others as any ordinary member might. Even after stepping down, one would not perceive him as particularly coarse. Then what rendered him so distasteful? I have long maintained: the ancients.
After Kong's ascension, elders from the 21st through 23rd cohorts sought to provide abundant guidance and assistance, ostensibly to sustain the Club's resilience. Since Kong had never aspired to leadership, he leaned entirely upon these elders.
In time, the ancients grew fond of wielding power behind the throne—and Kong, unaware, became their puppet. Under such conditions, Kong learned not how to lead a Club, but how to play warlord: those who flattered him ascended rapidly, while those who refused to fawn were systematically sidelined.
During the 25th cohort's tenure, Wang—Kong's romantic partner—and Xu—his constant companion—rose to prominence through sycophancy, while Cha, Liao, Shun, Yu, Song, and Hao, who refused to curry favor, were left without position. Among the latter, Shun, Yu, and Song suffered particularly—denied project assignments by Kong, they found themselves with nothing to do. How tragic!
Wang served as Kong's false front; Xu, his shadow. Yet technicians, thinkers, and artists alike were rendered useless. If under such governance the Club could still thrive, it would be a miracle indeed.
Meetings became exclusive gatherings for flatterers alone;
cliques proliferated, admitting only ancients and sycophants;
and those outside these circles could learn of Club affairs only by observing the chatter of sparrows on social media.
Recruitment, now under Zhu's control, welcomed the bizarre and comical—flooding the Club with grade-seekers; daily operations, as I witnessed firsthand, grew so dysfunctional I found myself criticizing them without cease.
Thus the path of the non-flatterers, under the joint tyranny of Kong and the ancients, became a river of blood and a field of corpses—how could one possibly accept such a state? The ancient elegance had shattered beyond recovery.

A Sun-led Club without its distinctive feng (ethos) would cease to be the Sun Club at all.
Some may ask: could the ancients not carry that feng forward and restore antiquity? No. The feng has vanished—and the ancients do not even perceive its absence.
They cannot comprehend the vigor of today's PKUS enjoyers, just as today's members cannot grasp the solemn dignity of the Club's ancient days. How then could they possibly govern the present Club?
To entrust the ancients with today's Club is mere farce. The monumental shift between ancient and modern SubIT is thus unmistakable:
the old feng has departed—and a new one must arise. Behold this new feng:
the Down's-style ethos of PKUS enjoyers.
