Wang Fuk Court blaze survivor says he cannot accept being called a hero — haunted by those he could not save
William Li, a resident of the devastated Wang Fuk Court estate in Hong Kong’s Tai Po district, has spoken out about the emotional cost of being hailed a hero after the deadly fire that engulfed his building in late November 2025. In a candid account, he said, “My heart breaks every time I’m called a hero,” explaining that rather than pride, he feels guilt for the people he could not help.
The inferno, which began on 26 November in scaffolding-covered exterior renovations at Block F, rapidly spread through seven of the complex’s eight thirty-two-storey towers.
As of early December, at least one hundred fifty-nine people have died, making it the deadliest residential fire in Hong Kong in decades.
Li was among those rescued from the building that first caught fire, after hours trapped amid thick smoke and collapsing debris.
In his testimony, Li described the chaos: as flames climbed bamboo scaffolding wrapped in green netting and foam-covered windows exploded, escape routes vanished and alarms failed to sound.
He and two neighbours managed to escape only after a desperate scramble — but many others were not so fortunate.
Li’s distress reflects a broader sense of tragedy across the city.
While many hailed residents who helped neighbours as courageous, some survivors reject the praise.
For them, the label “hero” feels misplaced when so many lives were lost — and so many more remain missing.
As one of the few fortunate to survive, Li said he does not feel heroic, only that he survived while others did not.
The disaster has triggered a sweeping criminal investigation.
Authorities have arrested multiple individuals involved in the renovation, including contractors and engineers, on suspicion of negligence and manslaughter, citing possible use of substandard materials and disabled fire-alarm systems.
The blaze has also prompted renewed scrutiny of Hong Kong’s building-safety regulations and widespread renovation practices involving flammable scaffolding netting and foam insulation.
For Li, the trauma endures.
He testified that each morning brings fresh pain — survivors and rescuers alike now carry the weight of thousands of shattered lives and the unanswered question of whether more could have been saved.
The label “hero” lingers, but for him it is a burden rather than a badge.
The inferno, which began on 26 November in scaffolding-covered exterior renovations at Block F, rapidly spread through seven of the complex’s eight thirty-two-storey towers.
As of early December, at least one hundred fifty-nine people have died, making it the deadliest residential fire in Hong Kong in decades.
Li was among those rescued from the building that first caught fire, after hours trapped amid thick smoke and collapsing debris.
In his testimony, Li described the chaos: as flames climbed bamboo scaffolding wrapped in green netting and foam-covered windows exploded, escape routes vanished and alarms failed to sound.
He and two neighbours managed to escape only after a desperate scramble — but many others were not so fortunate.
Li’s distress reflects a broader sense of tragedy across the city.
While many hailed residents who helped neighbours as courageous, some survivors reject the praise.
For them, the label “hero” feels misplaced when so many lives were lost — and so many more remain missing.
As one of the few fortunate to survive, Li said he does not feel heroic, only that he survived while others did not.
The disaster has triggered a sweeping criminal investigation.
Authorities have arrested multiple individuals involved in the renovation, including contractors and engineers, on suspicion of negligence and manslaughter, citing possible use of substandard materials and disabled fire-alarm systems.
The blaze has also prompted renewed scrutiny of Hong Kong’s building-safety regulations and widespread renovation practices involving flammable scaffolding netting and foam insulation.
For Li, the trauma endures.
He testified that each morning brings fresh pain — survivors and rescuers alike now carry the weight of thousands of shattered lives and the unanswered question of whether more could have been saved.
The label “hero” lingers, but for him it is a burden rather than a badge.




























