They poured out of the gates of the Bird’s Nest stadium in silent procession, tens of thousands of Chinese fans united by a common sense of disappointment.

Half an hour earlier they had filled the stands, screaming the name of Liu Xiang: the 110 metre hurdler and China’s great hope for the Games. After seeing their hero limp from the track, they formed one vast quiet exodus.

“I’m very upset,” said an elementary school teacher from a suburb of Beijing, at the head of an unusually subdued line of pupils, each downcast face painted with a Chinese flag.

Sun Jinghao, 23, a post-graduate student in management, was still in shock. “We just didn’t expect it,” he said, before attempting a more positive note. “Still, the Games are still going on”.

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Others seemed less certain of this fact. “We never expected he would quit the Games like that,” said a young man from Beijing, standing for one last disconsolate photograph in front of the stadium. “It’s bad for us, it’s bad for all Chinese. We thought he could get gold in the hurdles. Now, nothing.” Michael Chiu, 25, a first generation Chinese American, had travelled from Boston, with four tickets to see the heat, and another four tickets to the final on Thursday. “Watching him leave, it felt like being punched in the stomach multiple times,” he said.

Outside the Olympic Park, another disappointed ticket-holder said he had bought track and field tickets to see only Liu Xiang. He said: “I guess many people who bought expensive tickets from touts bought them just to see him.” Before yesterday’s heat, tickets for the final on Thursday had been selling for up to £390. As news filtered out from the stadium, prices began to plummet. “They’ll still go for £190,” said an American tout outside one of the gates. “They’re final tickets.” Others were not so sure. One Chinese tout was selling tickets for £156 but swiftly halved the price.

The organising committee of the Beijing Games, anxious to maintain a full stadium, may also be concerned at the prospect of dramatically diminished enthusiasm for track athletics amongst the home crowd.

Sun Weide, deputy press spokesman for the Beijing organising committee, told The Times: “All Chinese people think it’s a great pity, but of course there are still many exciting competitions at the Bird’s Nest. We still believe Chinese spectators will come and watch.” He added that though there had been great expectations, “I think people will understand that he has been suffering from this injury for quite some time.”

All across the Olympic Park, volunteers who had briefly left their posts to watch television screens stood in glum huddles. In the other sports venues, Chinese fans ceased their good-natured cheering for a moment. “I had hoped he would get a medal but not necessarily a gold,” said a man in his thirties, who was watching Australia play Lithuania at basketball. “The Chinese team has no hope now, because the other athletes don’t have his ability.” A young student beside him complained of “a great pain in my heart.” There were similar complaints all across Beijing, where news of Liu’s withdrawal quickly became the chief subject of conversation.

On the Beijing underground, carriages echoed with the same phrases: “Have you heard?”, “I can’t believe it”, “What do you think happened?” On a street to the east of the city, Yang Chou, 27, received a text from a friend, telling him of Liu’s withdrawal. “America and Africa always dominate athletics, so Liu Xiang was really one of our best hopes,” he said.

Thousands of miles to the west, in Tongren, on the western edge of the Tibetan plateau, a Tibetan monk expressed the same sentiment. “I’m so disappointed,” he said. “If I had been in the stadium, I would have walked out. He was the hope of all the Chinese people.” Online, China’s internet users were quickly dissecting the story and venting their frustrations. Some called the athlete Liu Paopao, or ”Runner Liu”, a reference to the nickname given to a teacher who ran from the Sichuan earthquake without stopping to save his students.

Others felt the withdrawal reflected one of the 36 strategies propounded in a classic Chinese text on the art of war: ”To leave is the best choice sometimes.”