Zheng Meixiang

Appearance: Zheng Meixiang is a female anthropomorphic red panda who is 38 years old and stands at 6’3. Her thin body is covered in short soft orange fur. While her chest, belly and crotch are covered in short black fur. Her arms and hands are covered in short soft black fur. Her legs and feet are also covered in short soft black fur. Her face is often in a confident smile that makes her green eyes twinkle. She has shoulder length black hair. Her face is covered in orange fur with a red panda muzzle covered in white fur with a black nose on the end. On her cheeks and around her eyes she had white markings. On top of her head she has red panda ears the outside is covered in white fur and the inside has pink skin. She has large D-cup breast covered in silky soft black fur with sensitive pink nipples. She has a tight pink vagina surrounded by the black fur of her crotch. She also has a round ass covered in short velvety soft black fur with a tight pink anus. Above her ass she has a long fluffy red panda tail covered in orange fur with white stripes and a black tip on the end. She is pink dress shirt and black trousers and a matching black belt. Over her shirt she is wearing a black sports jacket. Under her clothes she is wearing a purple bra and matching panties. On her feet she is wearing black dress shoes and matching black socks. She is wheelchair bound and cannot stand. Her wheelchair has a black seat and pink bars. The wheels have a green dragon pattern around the spoke.

Personality: Zheng Meixiang is resilient and sharp-minded, someone who has built her life on navigating a world that rarely makes space for her. She is cooperative and friendly, traits that allow her to draw people in and build networks of support—whether with doctors, fellow academics, or students who find her approachable despite her stern reputation. Her resilience doesn’t come from blind optimism, but from a long habit of problem-solving; every broken elevator, every missing ramp, every form written in inaccessible language has taught her how to persist through systems not built for her. She is highly book-smart, capable of seeing patterns in research others overlook, and this brilliance fuels her reputation as a professor. However, she can grow obsessive, often working long nights in labs and libraries until she forgets to eat or rest. She can be bossy when she feels her standards aren’t met, her patience thinning quickly when others seem careless or dismissive of details she considers vital. Beneath her steady exterior lies a deep jealousy of able-bodied people who move through life without the constant calculations she must make, who enjoy freedoms she can only dream of. This envy sometimes hardens into bitterness, though she hides it behind dry humor and a measured smile. Still, she is motivated by hope rather than despair, clinging to the belief that accessibility and justice can be achieved if she pushes hard enough.

Backstory: Zheng Meixiang was born in Los Angeles, California, seven years after her parents emigrated from Shanghai. From birth, she was wheelchair-bound due to a congenital condition, and her family’s traditional worldview framed this as a punishment for past life karma. While her parents loved her, they often treated her as a source of shame, gently pushing her out of sight during family gatherings and sometimes—during arguments calling her a burden. These early experiences left Zheng with a complicated relationship to family: she craved their approval but grew used to masking her emotions, careful not to stir conflict. Her parents were determined to keep their daughters tied to their Chinese heritage, speaking Shanghainese (The Shanghai dialect of Mandarin also called the Hu language) at home and telling stories of Shanghai’s beauty, wealth, and modern marvels. But Zheng, immersed in American schools, grew more comfortable with English, a shift that often frustrated her parents. At times, they worried aloud that she was becoming “too American,” yet their stories of Shanghai were always tinged with pride, creating both tension and fascination in Zheng. In elementary school, Zheng struggled with isolation. As a student she was quiet and hard working but had few friends later. While she was going to school in California she showed aptitude for science. Few classmates knew how to relate to her, and playground activities were rarely accessible. Even the school didn’t have much in the ways of physical education that she could do until middle school. That began to change during a show-and-tell in first grade, when she decided to present her wheelchair, not as a limitation, but as something fascinating, a machine with mechanics worth understanding. She explained it with wondrous enthusiasm, comparing her wheels to race cars and airplanes, and in doing so won over a handful of classmates who became her first real friends. By middle school, those friendships deepened, and though she was still different, she was no longer invisible. When not in school her parents took her to see the sights of LA where they told her the stories about how it was went they first moved their and the culture shock which sometimes led to funny moments. Other times She went to her friends’ houses to talk, play games and study. She also liked to draw and write stories of what her wheelchair could do with science-fiction modifications. Her older sister, Qiú, was often her quiet protector. While their parents sometimes scolded Zheng for slipping into English or struggling with traditional rituals. Qiú would sit with her afterwards, she recognized this othering as it was the reverse of what she and their parents faced when they immigrated to America before she was born. She offered comfort through shared music, whispered jokes, and the reassurance that she was not alone. Their bond became one of the anchors of her early years, even as Zheng grew increasingly aware of how different her life would always be. High school cemented Zheng’s path toward science. Her aptitude in biology and her elective in metalworking awakened her interest in blending theory with practice. Outside school, she often took her friends to Chinatown, where her parents shopped for familiar ingredients and household goods. Many of the small shops from newer immigrant families had no ramps, forcing her to rely on her friends’ help an experience both humiliating, frustrating but inspiring. Those excursions planted the seed of her future career in the field of biomedical engineering. As she began sketching ideas for assistive devices that could eliminate such barriers at half the price. At the same time as soon as she was able she got a job as a barista at a small café. This helped her to be social and co-operative. At the same time, she quietly explored her identity. Romantic curiosity bloomed not toward boys, as her classmates giggled about, but toward the girls around her. Her first kiss shared with her friend Marissa Cortez during a study session; was spontaneous, awkward and thrilling. The event that confused them at first but this quickly blossomed into a relationship. While her sister Qiú was openly queer, Zheng hesitated to come out, afraid of adding another layer of “difference” in a family already struggling with traditional expectations. Keeping the romance secret taught her the bittersweetness of hidden joy: the warmth of intimacy paired with the sting of invisibility. After high school, Zheng enrolled in a program to teach English in Shanghai, finally experiencing the city her parents had mythologized. She also told Marissa about these plans and she agreed to join her. They saved money and left together, eager to live openly as a couple in privacy of their home. In public they struggled not showing any signs of affection. Shanghai modern architecture dazzled Zheng the Oriental Pearl Tower, the Bund, the neon glow of the skyline—but it also shocked her. The disabled people faced staggering barriers; They were treated far worse as they face enormous social and economic challenges and are often perceived as sources of inconvenience and a burden on families and society. All this despite the government rapid advancements in caring for those with disabilities both mental and physical enacted more than 60 laws and regulations aimed at safeguarding their rights. As well as rapid economic growth making their living conditions and social status improve. However this took time to spread throughout China causing rural people to still suffer under old stigma. This gave her a mission in life as Zheng began documenting her observations, filling notebooks with sketches and conversations she overheard, building the foundation for her future activism and work. After five years, she returned to California with renewed determination. She applied to UC Berkeley for biomedical engineering, planning to eventually transfer to Chongqing University of Technology once her Chinese citizenship was secured. She studied hard and lost many night to caffeine filled reading sessions but she eventually got in. Her long hours of study, however, strained her relationship, and she and Marissa parted amicably. Zheng pressed forward, obtaining dual citizenship and pursuing her goal of developing low-cost prosthetics and wheelchairs for rural Chinese communities. Her research earned her recognition for innovation, particularly in designing modular devices that could be repaired with basic tools, a deliberate challenge to profit-driven Western medical models. Over the years, she rose through academia to become a professor. Students admired her rigor, though some found her intimidating when she pushed too hard. Still, she became known as someone who fought for accessibility not just in her field, but on campus—challenging university policies, lobbying for better ramps and elevators, and mentoring disabled students who saw in her proof that they too could thrive. She was inspired by China Disabled Persons’ Federation who aim to support the rights and interests of disabled individuals through assistance obtaining welfare subsidies and other services. Though her parents never fully shed their traditional shame, they grew to respect her achievements, and their family gatherings shifted from quiet disapproval to a proud acknowledgment of her place in the world. Whenever she can she often returns to California to visit her family at Qiu’s or her nearby parents’ house.

Friends: Qiú Meixiang (Red Panda, 45) – Her older sister, fiery and outspoken, a sharp contrast to Zheng’s quieter determination. Qiú’s work as an activist often inspires Zheng, though they occasionally clash over methods, Qiú thrives in confrontation while Zheng prefers slow, systematic change. Despite differences, Zheng deeply admires Qiú’s ability to make people listen and has leaned on her sister for emotional support since her early years.

Marissa Cortez (Human, 38) – Zheng’s high school sweetheart, a curly-haired aspiring fashion designer who helped her see herself as more than her disability. Their relationship began during study sessions, blossoming into a secret romance. Though they eventually parted ways, they remain in contact, their bond softened into a friendship where Marissa still encourages Zheng to see beauty in her own resilience.

Lina Zhao (Rabbit, 41) – A fellow professor and trusted colleague in biomedical research. Lina is practical and steady, often helping Zheng rein in her obsessive work habits. Lina has become something of a confidant, the kind of friend who knows when to bring tea and silence, and when to challenge Zheng’s stubbornness head-on.

Romantic & Sexual Tendencies: Zheng is a cautious but deeply loyal partner. She seeks intimacy rooted in trust, shared values, and intellectual curiosity. She is drawn to people who challenge her mind as much as her heart. She struggles with vulnerability, often intellectualizing romance by speaking about relationships in terms of stability, fairness, or long-term goals instead of raw feeling. While she has a playful, teasing side in private, she tends to keep her affection understated in public. Her jealousy of able-bodied freedom sometimes spills into romance, making her wary of partners who cannot understand her daily battles. Though her longest relationship ended in mutual respect, it left her hesitant to believe in permanence, fearful that her passion for work and her fatigue could drive people away. Still, she remains open to love, hopeful that one day she might find someone who can sit beside her in both silence and struggle.

Motivations: Zheng’s primary motivation is justice through design. She believes technology should empower marginalized people rather than exclude them. Her career in biomedical engineering is not driven by prestige, but by the desire to dismantle systemic inequality. She is especially critical of profit-driven healthcare models, which she views as exploitative of disabled communities. Instead, she advocates for open-source designs, community workshops, and training programs that allow people in rural or impoverished areas to repair and build their own devices. She dreams of founding an international network of engineers, students, and disabled activists collaborating on accessible designs—something that would continue long after her own lifetime.

Hobbies: Sketching assistive technology prototypes, from practical prosthetics to whimsical sci-fi wheelchairs Collecting oral histories of disabled people, recording their experiences as a way of preserving voices often erased from official archives Visiting Chinatown markets or Shanghai street vendors, not just to shop but to observe how infrastructure shapes daily life Playing strategy-based board games with colleagues and students, often using them as teaching tools to spark critical thinking Drinking green tea while grading or writing, often leaving half-finished cups scattered around her office

Quirks: Keeps a sketchbook filled with both serious engineering designs and playful, impossible inventions Taps her pen against the armrest of her wheelchair when deep in thought Refuses offers to carry her up stairs, insisting on finding her own way even if it takes longer Keeps a jade pendant from her grandmother on a small incense altar, claiming it is for memory rather than religion Has a sudden, infectious laugh that surprises her students, especially when she finds humor in the driest academic writing Tends to “adopt” struggling students, pushing them harder than others because she sees pieces of herself in them. Sometimes overwhelming them with her intensity