The Poet of China's Gig Economy

They arrived in Beijing chasing the hope of a better life: because farming back home no longer provided enough, because a cousin had secured a room and a factory lead, because they wanted to support parents still working small plots of land, because youth stirred curiosity for the citys nights, because failure in the gaokao left few options, because debt pressed on them, or because they had heard that delivery work could earn more in a month than a season in the fields. By 2015, around 277 million people had migrated internally in China, forming the floating population that constructs skyscrapers, guards streets, cleans roads, and delivers parcels, yet remains largely excluded from public welfare due to the hukou, Chinas household registration system. Without a local hukou, rural migrants in Beijing often lack access to subsidized housing, public schools, and healthcare.

Many live in cramped settlements, subdivided into windowless cubicles or compact container homes known as snail households. Life on the margins of the urban workforce is marked by long hours, temporary contracts, and constant financial precarity, where a missed delivery or workplace injury could erase months of earnings.

Hu Anyan, one of these workers, captured his experience in his memoir I Deliver Parcels in Beijing, released in 2023. Instantly popular, it garnered over 50,000 reviews on Douban and praise from The Peoples Daily for chronicling meaningful labor experiences. The books reception coincided with Xi Jinpings common prosperity initiative, which criticized tech-sector excess, positioning Hus memoir as a depiction of life at the bottom rung without overt opposition to the government.

For international readers, Hus work stands apart from Western exposs of low-wage labor. Unlike books designed to highlight systemic exploitation and provoke moral outrage, Hus narrative adopts a quiet, almost Daoist tone, documenting the minute realities of gig workthe repetitive, exhausting, and self-eroding moments of daily labor. Its second half reads like a proletarian diary, noting fleeting thoughts, irritations, and small impressions, reflecting the toll of work in a society where dissent is rarely voiced publicly.

The explosion of the express-delivery industry sets the stage. By the 2010s, couriers were moving billions of parcels annually. The work attracted rural migrants with minimal barriers to entry but came with high attrition due to long hours, speed quotas, and wage penalties linked to customer ratings. Hu remained long enough to craft a narrative capturing what Lauren Berlant describes as slow death, the gradual physical wearing out of laborers.

Born in Guangzhou, Hu cycled through 19 jobs in six years, including hotel waiter, popsicle vendor, fast-food delivery worker, convenience-store clerk, security guard, and unpaid comic-book apprentice. Early experiences fostered a self-effacing attitude and fear of asserting personal rights, reflected in anecdotes such as declining insurance to avoid displeasing colleagues.

In 2017, Hu worked at a logistics warehouse for D Company, enduring grueling shifts and severe sleep deprivation while meticulously calculating the cost of time and money, even down to restroom breaks and meals. Days off were rare and often spent in parks or inexpensive suburban excursions, alongside reading major literary works for personal enrichment.

Hus attention to detail is striking, yet he leaves gaps, perhaps to avoid political friction. Scenes such as a coworkers suicide were omitted in the final publication, while other memories remain selective or contradictory. In China, editors often act as intermediaries for censorship, negotiating content to avoid trouble without necessarily improving literary quality.

The memoirs central narrative covers Hus courier years, beginning in 2018 with S Company. He faced bureaucratic obstacles, unpaid onboarding, and grueling workloads, sometimes working 26 days a month for modest pay, navigating absurdities imposed by management and customer expectations. English translations preserve Hus measured pacing and clipped style, conveying his blend of observation, self-critique, and quiet indignation.

By 2020, amid pandemic-related disruptions, Hu was laid off from Pinjun Express, receiving limited severance. Over the past decade, he has alternated between employment and writing. Though sometimes classified as a wild writer or part of various literary categories, Hu identifies foremost as a writer, not an activist.

In 2024, Hu released a reflective follow-up, Living in Low Places, exploring the value of stillness, observation, and reading for their own sake, invoking Zhuangzis idea that usefulness is overrated. The work depicts a life exchanged from constant labor for the quiet appreciation of lifes small beauties and contemplative moments.

Sources:

• The Bard of China’s Gig Economy