Cast & Character List
Duan Yihong as Chen Jianghe
Meet the Legend Who Solves Crimes with Sass and Sandstorms
Let me introduce you to the most unapologetically chaotic cop you'll ever root for in Sandstorm – Chen Jianghe (played by the effortlessly magnetic Duan Yihong). This guy isn't just a detective; he's a walking contradiction wrapped in a leather jacket and sprinkled with desert dust.
The Backstory That Hits Harder Than a Sandstorm:
Eight years ago, Chen was this close to a promotion when the infamous "Boiler Corpse Case" blew up his career. To make it worse, his mentor Ge Dajie ended up in a vegetative state after a freak quicksand accident. Most people would spiral into a midlife crisis. Not Chen. He just perfected his "I-don't-care" smirk and kept solving crimes like a boss.
The Plot Thickens (Like a Dust Cloud):
Just when Chen thought he'd buried his past, rookie cop Luo Yingwei drags him back into the whirlwind. Now he’s chasing truth through sandstorms and bureaucratic nightmares, all while side-eyeing his own demons. Is he solving crimes… or auditioning for redemption?
TL;DR: Chen Jianghe is what happens if Indiana Jones quit archaeology, got trust issues, and became weirdly good at reading dirt. Watch him outrun sandstorms and emotional growth in Sandstorm – where every clue comes with a side of sarcasm.
Wang Qiang as Wang Liang
Meet the Human Lie Detector Who Hates His Hometown (But Can't Quit It)
Let's talk about Wang Liang (played by rising star Wang Qiang), the walking contradiction at the heart of Sandstorm - the "data nerd" cop you'll want to hug even when he's being insufferable.
This guy's got spreadsheets where his soul should be. As the precinct's resident criminal profiler, he'll recite crime statistics like Shakespearean sonnets and track serial killers using algorithms sharper than his dress shirts. But here's the kicker: his genius comes wrapped in small-town baggage. Liang's hometown is that toxic ex you keep texting at 2 AM - he loathes its suffocating grasp but keeps getting dragged back into its dirt-road drama.
Blame the childhood trauma cocktail: a violent dad, a mom who fought back with literal fire (yep, there's arson involved), and enough emotional scars to fill a True Crime podcast miniseries. Now he's stuck investigating crimes in the same streets where he learned to distrust humanity.
The best part? This spreadsheet sorcerer low-key envies his partner Chen Jianghe's cowboy cop tactics. Imagine Sherlock Holmes secretly wishing he could brawl like John Wick - that's Liang every time Chen solves cases with gut instinct instead of pie charts.
But the real storm hits when his foster father Liu Sancheng's son Liu Dazhi gets tangled in the case. Suddenly, our data-driven detective's got skin in the game. Will he protect the only family he's ever known, or burn it all down for justice? Grab popcorn, America - this is small-town China's answer to True Detective, served with extra moral ambiguity.
Zhang Jianing as Liu Yingying
Meet The Walking Paradox of Gobi Desert: Liu Yingying in Sandstorm
If Emily Dickinson wrote a noir thriller, she'd probably invent someone like Liu Yingying – a blood-red rose blooming in cracked earth. By day, she's the gentle schoolteacher who grades math homework with meticulous care. By night? Let's just say shadows cling to her like a second skin.
Played by the phenomenal Zhang Jianing, this small-town widow hides enough secrets to fuel a sandstorm. Eight years ago, her husband vanished during a murder investigation (awkward timing, we know). Now she's single-handedly raising their daughter while sitting on case-breaking evidence. Her survival tactic? A masterclass in quiet defiance – think Big Little Lies meets True Detective, but with way more dust storms.
What truly makes Yingying unforgettable are Zhang's micro-revelations: fingers compulsively twisting that faded wedding band during police interrogations, the barely-there swallow when her husband's name slips into conversation, those 3 AM crying sessions over family photos when the kid's asleep. It's like watching someone build a dam with trembling hands while the floodwaters rise.
Zhang Yao as Luo Yingwei
Meet Dr. Luo Yingwei: The Scalpel-Wielding Paradox of "Sandstorm"
Okay, let’s talk about the human Swiss Army knife of crime-solving in Sandstorm – Luo Yingwei (played by the magnetic Zhang Yao). Imagine Sherlock Holmes with a forensics degree, the precision of a NASA engineer, and just enough chaotic energy to chase killers barefoot in a sandstorm. Yeah, that’s our girl.
This Cold Blade Medical Examiner (a nickname that’ll make you shiver) didn’t just graduate from Munich University’s forensic program – she owns it. Dr. Luo slices through crime scenes like a neurosurgeon dissecting truth itself. Need someone to shut down a smug suspect? Watch her casually tap a scalpel against a metal table during interrogations. Clink. Clink. Clink. Suddenly, that cocky criminal’s sweating harder than a popsicle in the Gobi Desert.
But here’s the twist: Beneath that lab-coat armor beats a heart softer than a cashmere blanket. When rookie cop Chen Jianghe needs backup during a sandstorm-chased showdown, Dr. Luo ditches her shoes faster than you can say “forensic footwear analysis” and sprints barefoot into the chaos. Later, she’ll probably disinfect those sandy toes while muttering about bacterial growth rates – but in the moment? Pure ride-or-die energy.
Zhang Yao’s genius? She turns this walking contradiction into TV gold. One minute, Dr. Luo’s dropping autopsy facts colder than a morgue drawer. The next, she’s sliding a secretly warmed milk tea to Liu Yingying mid-breakdown. It’s like watching a human espresso shot pause to say, “Hey, you matter.”
So here’s your official warning: Luo Yingwei isn’t just solving crimes – she’s rewriting the “brilliant-but-brooding genius” rulebook. And honestly? We’re here for every scalpel-sharp,奶茶-sweet second of it.
Hold onto your detective hats, folks – Sandstorm just introduced America to its sneakiest small-town criminal since Walter White traded chemistry for crime. Let’s talk about Liu Sancheng (played by the legendary Yang Xinming), the boiler room worker who makes your weird uncle look like a Boy Scout.
At first glance, this guy’s practically a walking Norman Rockwell painting – a salt-of-the-earth factory vet who probably spends weekends fixing lawnmowers and handing out Werther’s Originals. He’s dad to whip-smart Liu Yingying and (surprise!) foster father to the brooding Wang Liang. But here’s the twist: this grandpa-next-door has enough skeletons in his closet to fill a cemetery.
Yang Xinming plays Sancheng like a chess master disguised as a checkers player. Those crinkly smile lines? Probably mapped out eight years of cover-ups. That gravelly voice? Perfect for both folksy advice and "Oops, did I forget to mention those murders?" confessions. The genius of this performance? You’ll catch yourself rooting for him right up until the flashbacks hit.
Here’s why Sancheng’s the show’s secret weapon: he’s the human glue connecting two timelines of carnage. Every folksy chuckle hides a landmine of secrets, and that boiler room grease? Let’s just say it’s not the only thing he’s been scrubbing off his hands for decades.
Zheng Hao as Liu Dazhi
Meet Liu Dazhi: The College Kid Who’ll Make You Side-Eye Your Neighbor
Let’s talk about Sandstorm’s most intriguing human puzzle: Liu Dazhi (played by the effortlessly magnetic Zheng Hao). On paper? Total golden boy. Provincial university student. Son of small-town bigwig Liu Sancheng. But y’all know how these crime dramas work — the shiniest apples often have the squirmiest worms.
This guy’s basically walking spoiler territory. While rocking that "future leader of China" swagger (seriously, does this dude ever have a hair out of place?), he’s low-key the human glue holding the Cheng Chun case together. Think of him as a fancy Russian nesting doll — peel back the Dean’s List charm and you’ll find… well, let’s just say the writers want us to earn those revelations.
The real kicker? His messy bond with Liu Yingying. These two serve up family drama that’d make Thanksgiving at your cousin’s look tame. Every awkward glance, every half-choked "jie" (big sis), feels like another breadcrumb toward whatever nightmare truth this sandstorm’s about to unearth.
Zheng Hao’s playing this role like a piano wire — all calculated smiles one second, barely contained panic the next. You’ll catch yourself yelling "SWEET BABY ANGEL, JUST TELL THE TRUTH!" at your screen before remembering he’s probably the reason the truth needs hiding.
Zheng Chuyi as Ding Baoyuan
Let’s talk about the guy who could teach a masterclass in "how to gaslight an entire legal system." Ding Baoyuan isn’t your garden-variety criminal - he’s a plot twist factory wrapped in sheep’s clothing.
Eight years ago, this dude confessed to a boiler room corpse incineration case (yes, that’s as gnarly as it sounds). Fast-forward to prison life, and suddenly he’s pulling the ultimate Uno reverse card: "JK, I didn’t do it!" Cue the record scratch.
But here’s the kicker - while playing the wronged martyr, Ding was secretly orchestrating a car death scam for fat insurance payouts. Imagine being so diabolical, you turn victimhood into a side hustle.
Zheng Chuyi chews the scenery as this morally bankrupt puppeteer, serving equal parts "harmless country bumpkin" vibes and Hannibal Lecter energy. Every smirk feels like a loaded gun.
Hu Xiaoguang as Ge Dajie
Let’s talk about Sandstorm’s most unexpected MVP: Ge Dajie (played by the brilliant Hu Xiaoguang). This guy’s basically the human equivalent of a time capsule – except instead of old coins and Polaroids, he’s packed with cold-case secrets that’ll blow your mind.
Once a respected mentor to protagonist Chen Jianghe, Ge’s life took a sharp left turn eight years ago when a mysterious "sand collapse" accident left him vegetative. But here’s the kicker: The dude’s still solving crimes from his hospital bed. No, really – his unfinished investigation from 2012 becomes the Rosetta Stone for reopening the case, and his room’s security footage hides a clue so juicy, it’d make Sherlock Holmes drop his pipe.
Hu Xiaoguang kills it (pun unintended) portraying this silent-but-deadly character. Ge’s physical stillness contrasts wildly with the storm of revelations he unleashes through old case files and that creepy hospital camera. It’s like watching a ghost direct a true-crime documentary from beyond the coma.
Tudou as Guan Qiao
Let’s talk about the human equivalent of a knockoff Gucci bag in Sandstorm’s desert wasteland – Guan Qiao, the broke writer who survives by churning out pulpy "ditan wenxue" (street stall fiction) about haunted washing machines and time-traveling donkeys. This man’s got more red flags than a communist parade, but hey, at least he’s stylish about it.
When we first meet Guan Qiao, he’s all dimpled smiles and poetry stolen from fortune cookies, whispering sweet nothings to Sun Caiyun like a moth drawn to her flaming dumpster fire of secrets. His rom-com protagonist act works... until reality comes knocking faster than a debt collector. Suddenly, our Shakespeare of the sidewalk reveals his true superpower: Olympic-level cowardice.
Here’s the tea – Guan Qiao isn’t just Sun Caiyun’s lover. He’s the human equivalent of that one loose thread that unravels her entire designer sweater of lies. Watch him pivot from writing trashy novels to starring in his own tragedy, swapping love sonnets for panic sweats faster than you can say "plot twist."
