In the sticky days of August 1972, a US$25,000 cheque landed in the bank account of one of the Watergate burglars - a key event in a scandal that ultimately played a part in the downfall of US president Richard Nixon. In the same month, a world away in China's central Henan province, Chen Feng was not concerned about the brewing political melee that would rock America - he was busy emerging from his mother's womb. Having used investigative journalism to highlight the abuse of power in the highest echelons of government, Washington Post reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein have since become celebrated, iconic figures in the media world. And in his journalistic career, Chen has adopted the same techniques and dogged determination to shine a light on injustice, but there is no Pulitzer Prize on his mantelpiece. Instead, he feels responsible for the fact that his three colleagues were sent to prison, and he rues the day he ever entered the media profession. What a difference a nationality makes. Working for the Southern Metropolis Daily in 2003, Chen was tipped off that a 27-year-old graphic designer called Sun Zhigang had been beaten to death in police custody in a Guangzhou prison after being detained for failing to carry his temporary-residence permit. The paper's editor, Cheng Yizhong , took the brave step of giving Chen and his colleague Wang Lei a month to get the story. They found Sun's family and persuaded them to demand an autopsy, giving them the evidence they needed. They marshalled all the facts and printed the story before authorities got wind of the investigation, so they could not order the topic off-limits. The article caused shockwaves across the country. Follow-up reports exposed a network of custody-of-repatriation camps that bought and sold prisoners like slaves. The unprecedented swell of public outrage forced Beijing to close all the camps and abolish the draconian law that gave police the authority to jail people at will. It was a stunning, landmark victory. Never before had the Chinese media wielded such dramatic influence. But the celebrations were short-lived. Local cadres were humiliated by the paper's hard-hitting stories, and took revenge. Officials launched a massive, six-month investigation into the paper's management, detaining Cheng for a few months and sentencing two colleagues to long prison terms on tenuous charges of financial impropriety. The whole exercise, according to local sources, was nothing more than an elaborate retaliatory strike. Chen was shipped out of Guangzhou and is now an editor on the Beijing News, a sister paper. 'We have no evidence of course, but everyone knows the investigation was related to my story,' he said. The mainland, he concludes, is clearly not the place to practise investigative journalism. Although the party believes a more aggressive brand of reporting can help curb corruption and improve governance, its officials clearly do not take kindly to being placed under the spotlight themselves. Aside from political aspects and fear of retribution, the pay scheme - in which reporters are paid according to the number of articles they write - is designed to ensure journalists take a superficial approach to news gathering, Chen said. In terms of media and freedom of expression, the mainland is going through a dark era, he said. 'One day, everything will get better, but the question is when.' His advice to budding journalists is: find a real job. 'I tell people no, no - don't go into journalism. It is not a good career here now.' Luckily for the mainland, Chen - and many idealistic media professionals like him - have no intention of following their own advice. Peter Goff is a Beijing-based journalist