In today’s China, amidst the gleaming skyscrapers and booming tech industry, a new literary wave is surging: the rise of “realistic” literature. This trend isn’t about fantastical tales or escapist fiction; it’s about stories grounded in the everyday struggles of ordinary people, reflecting a growing national conversation about socioeconomic realities. Chinese readers are increasingly drawn to narratives that shed light on the lives of those often overlooked in the country’s rapid economic ascent – the migrant workers, delivery drivers, and service industry employees who form the backbone of its modern society.
One book capturing this zeitgeist is “I Deliver Packages in Beijing” by Hu Anyan, a captivating memoir offering an unflinching look into the life of a delivery driver in China’s bustling capital. Published in March 2023 by Hunan Literature and Art Publishing House, this book quickly gained traction online, becoming a bonafide bestseller and igniting discussions across the Chinese internet.
The book’s popularity is evident on Douban, China’s equivalent of Goodreads, where it boasts an impressive 8.1 rating, garnered from over 50,000 user reviews. Millions of readers have engaged in online forums and social media discussions, sharing their own experiences and reflecting on the themes explored in the book. The author’s honest portrayal of the gig economy’s demanding work culture, the often tense customer interactions, and the precarious balance between striving for a better life and facing financial precarity has struck a chord with a wide audience.
“I Deliver Packages in Beijing” isn’t just a personal story; it’s a reflection of the anxieties and aspirations of a generation navigating the complexities of modern China. It offers a window into the lives of those who keep the country’s e-commerce machine humming, revealing the human cost of convenience and efficiency. The book’s success speaks to a broader social consciousness emerging in China, a desire to understand and empathize with the experiences of those often hidden behind the facade of economic progress.
The Life of a Delivery Driver in the Capital
For many Americans, the gig economy conjures up images of ride-sharing apps and food delivery services. While these are certainly prevalent in China as well, Hu Anyan’s book, “I Deliver Packages in Beijing,” dives into another facet of this growing sector: the world of package delivery. And as the author discovers, navigating this system is often a grueling test of patience and resilience.
The hiring process at S Company, heavily implied to be SF Express, one of China’s largest courier companies, is anything but straightforward. After a brief and impersonal interview at a seemingly deserted office building, Hu Anyan is assigned to a local branch in the sprawling district of Yizhuang. Already, the experience underscores the vastness of both the company and the city itself, hinting at the impersonal nature of this booming industry.
What follows is a seemingly endless onboarding process. Forget the streamlined online applications and quick background checks common in the US. Hu Anyan is subjected to a mandatory unpaid trial period of three days, a common practice in China’s delivery sector, despite its questionable legality under Chinese labor law. This “trial,” as it turns out, isn’t simply shadowing a seasoned driver. Hu Anyan is expected to actively contribute, lugging heavy packages alongside his “master” (his assigned mentor) and navigating the labyrinthine apartment complexes with minimal guidance.
The author recounts his frustration with the company’s management, who treat him with a mix of indifference and suspicion. The branch manager, a man named Mr. L, seems less concerned with Hu Anyan’s skills and more worried about him quitting after a few days, a common problem for courier companies facing high turnover rates. Mr. L even probes into the author’s personal life, asking about his family and financial obligations, seemingly gauging his level of desperation and commitment.
Even after completing the trial period and passing a medical exam (another hurdle riddled with delays and unnecessary costs), Hu Anyan faces yet another obstacle. The branch inexplicably claims to have no available “quota” for new hires, pushing his start date back by several days. This bureaucratic limbo is further complicated by a missing document and a perpetually absent finance officer, who seems to embody the company’s impersonal and dismissive attitude towards its workforce.
Finally, after weeks of waiting and navigating a bureaucratic maze, Hu Anyan is offered a position – but not as a full-time employee. He is initially classified as an hourly worker, lacking the benefits and job security of his full-time counterparts. This precarious status underscores the vulnerability of workers in China’s gig economy, who often lack legal protections and face intense competition for limited opportunities.
Hu Anyan’s journey as a delivery driver in Beijing is a relentless cycle of pick-ups, drop-offs, and navigating the city’s sprawling urban maze. The long hours start before dawn, with a 6:30 am arrival at the depot, a dimly lit concrete yard cluttered with stacks of packages and the constant hum of electric delivery tricycles. This isn’t a leisurely sorting process; efficiency is paramount. Like a well-oiled machine, each driver quickly locates their designated packages, scans them into the system, and loads them onto their tricycle, the trusty steed of Beijing’s delivery army.
For Americans accustomed to neatly packaged boxes delivered to their doorsteps, the intricacies of package handling in China might come as a surprise. Hu Anyan describes a chaotic jumble of parcels: small boxes, bulky bags, and even unwieldy items like furniture and appliances. These are often precariously stacked and secured with bungee cords, forming a precarious tower on the tricycle’s cargo bed. It’s a testament to the drivers’ skill and experience that these towers rarely topple, even when navigating Beijing’s notoriously congested streets.
The city itself becomes both a workplace and an obstacle course. While many Americans rely on GPS navigation, Beijing’s vastness and constantly evolving infrastructure pose a unique challenge. Hu Anyan recounts relying on a combination of digital maps, local knowledge, and intuition to weave through a labyrinth of narrow alleyways, bustling markets, and sprawling residential complexes. He describes memorizing shortcuts, deciphering poorly labeled addresses, and relying on the kindness of local residents for directions.
And then there are the customers. While some are grateful for the convenience of doorstep delivery, others are demanding, impatient, and even downright rude. Hu Anyan recounts countless frustrating interactions: customers who refuse to answer their phones, leaving him stranded outside their apartment buildings; those who demand immediate delivery, regardless of his already packed schedule; and those who insist on leaving packages in vulnerable locations, only to later claim they were never received, leading to financial penalties for the driver.
One particularly frustrating scenario involves delivering packages to a massive construction site on the outskirts of the city. Security guards forbid delivery drivers from entering, forcing Hu Anyan to wait at the gate, calling recipients one by one and hoping they’ll take the time to walk out and retrieve their packages. These waits often stretch for hours, exposing him to the scorching summer heat or the biting winter winds, all for a meager delivery fee per package.
Hu Anyan’s experiences highlight the often overlooked human cost of China’s e-commerce boom. Behind the seamless online shopping experience and the promise of next-day delivery lies a workforce facing long hours, intense pressure to meet demanding delivery quotas, and a constant struggle to balance efficiency with basic human decency. His story offers a sobering reminder that convenience, even in the digital age, is rarely free.
For a delivery driver in China, the approach of “Double 11,” also known as Singles Day, is like bracing for a hurricane. This annual shopping extravaganza, held every November 11th, dwarfs Black Friday and Cyber Monday combined, transforming the country into a frenzied consumerist whirlwind. For Hu Anyan, Double 11 meant a dramatic shift in his daily grind. The already relentless pace intensified, with delivery volumes tripling in the days leading up to the big event. The depot overflowed with packages, spilling out into the street, a testament to the sheer scale of China’s online shopping addiction.
While grueling, Double 11 also offered a tangible reward: money. Hu Anyan describes the surge in income during peak seasons, with drivers often pulling in double or even triple their usual earnings. This financial incentive kept many drivers, including Hu Anyan, pushing through the exhaustion and frustration. After all, the promise of a larger paycheck could make those extra hours and demanding customers a little more bearable.
However, the pressure to maintain high delivery rates during peak seasons also brought the risk of costly mistakes. One of Hu Anyan’s most disheartening experiences involves the loss of a valuable package, a box of books ordered from Dangdang, China’s equivalent of Amazon. He left the box, far too heavy to fit inside his tricycle’s cargo hold, secured on the roof while making deliveries in a upscale residential complex. Upon returning, he discovered the unthinkable: the box was gone, stolen in broad daylight.
The loss sent a wave of despair through Hu Anyan. It wasn’t just the financial penalty he faced – a hefty 1000 yuan (roughly $150 at the time) deducted from his earnings – but the sense of vulnerability and violation. Despite reporting the theft to the police and scouring security footage, the stolen package was never recovered.
The incident highlights the precarious position of delivery drivers in China’s gig economy. While companies like S Company reap the profits of Double 11’s record-breaking sales, the drivers on the front lines often bear the brunt of the risks. They are held responsible for lost or damaged packages, facing financial penalties that can wipe out weeks of hard-earned income.
This incident, along with the company’s generally impersonal and demanding work culture, ultimately pushed Hu Anyan to leave S Company. He had heard whispers of a smaller competitor, Pinjun Express, offering better working conditions and a more supportive environment. Pinjun, as it turns out, was the in-house delivery service for Vip.com, a popular e-commerce platform specializing in discounted fashion and lifestyle products.
While Pinjun’s pay structure was similar to S Company’s, the work itself felt less oppressive. The company’s smaller size and focus on a specific niche market meant less pressure to meet the breakneck delivery quotas of larger players like SF Express. Hu Anyan describes a more relaxed atmosphere, with colleagues who seemed less like cogs in a machine and more like individuals. The company even organized team dinners and outings, creating a sense of camaraderie that was starkly absent at his previous job.
For Hu Anyan, the move to Pinjun Express was a step towards reclaiming some semblance of agency and dignity within the demanding world of package delivery. He found solace in a less cutthroat work environment, a sense of belonging, and a company that, at least for a time, seemed to value its employees as more than just disposable cogs in its delivery machine.
Beyond Beijing: A Wider View of Labor in China
While Hu Anyan’s experiences as a delivery driver in Beijing paint a stark picture of the gig economy in modern China, his journey through the world of work began long before he arrived in the capital. His earlier jobs, detailed in the poignant and introspective chapter “Memories of Working in Shanghai,” reveal a wider tapestry of labor conditions across different industries, highlighting both the challenges and opportunities faced by workers navigating China’s rapidly changing economic landscape.
Early Struggles
Hu Anyan’s first foray into the workforce was as a student intern at a four-star hotel, a common practice in China, where vocational schools often arrange internships for students to gain practical experience. He recounts the grueling demands of working in the banquet hall, where long hours and physically demanding tasks were the norm. He vividly describes the endless cycle of setting up for lavish banquets, meticulously aligning tables and chairs with military precision for government functions, and the sheer exhaustion of clearing away the remnants of these opulent affairs. It’s a far cry from the romanticized image of hospitality often portrayed in Western media, offering a glimpse into the unglamorous reality of service work in China.
His subsequent experiences in retail and at a gas station further illustrate the challenges of low-paying jobs. Working as a sales clerk at a clothing store, he grappled with the pressure to meet sales targets, a struggle familiar to many retail workers in the US. However, unlike in America, where assertive salesmanship is often encouraged, Hu Anyan found himself ill-suited to the aggressive tactics employed by his colleagues, struggling to compete for customers and feeling a sense of shame for his perceived lack of drive.
His stint at a state-owned gas station revealed the complexities of navigating social expectations in the workplace. While the work itself was straightforward, he found himself caught between the cynicism of his older colleagues, who saw little value in diligently following the company’s newly implemented customer service protocols, and the earnestness of his own desire to do a good job. This experience highlights the generational divide often present in China’s workforce, where older workers, accustomed to the rigid structures of the pre-reform era, clash with younger employees striving to adapt to the demands of a rapidly evolving market economy.
These early struggles resonate with similar challenges faced by low-wage workers in the US. The pressure to make ends meet, the lack of job security, and the often exploitative practices of employers are unfortunately universal experiences. However, Hu Anyan’s account also sheds light on the cultural nuances that shape the workplace in China. The emphasis on seniority, the complex web of social obligations, and the pressure to conform to collective expectations create a unique set of dynamics often absent in more individualistic Western work cultures.
Entrepreneurial Spirit
Despite the challenges of his early jobs, Hu Anyan harbored a desire for greater control over his work life, a sentiment that resonates with many Americans disillusioned with the limitations of traditional employment. Intrigued by the economic opportunities arising from China’s rapid development, he embarked on several entrepreneurial ventures, each offering a glimpse into the risks and rewards of starting a business in a dynamic and fiercely competitive market.
His first foray into entrepreneurship was a trip to Vietnam, accompanied by a friend and a hired translator. Inspired by China’s own economic transformation, they hoped to find business opportunities in a country lagging behind in development, seeking a “first-mover” advantage in a less saturated market. While they found Hanoi to be indeed “backward” compared to China, with its crumbling infrastructure and less sophisticated consumer culture, they soon realized that transplanting their business ideas was more complicated than simply “traveling back in time” to capitalize on a less developed economy. Language barriers, cultural differences, and unfamiliar regulations proved insurmountable obstacles, forcing them to abandon their Vietnamese venture.
Back in China, Hu Anyan turned his attention to the familiar world of women’s fashion, partnering with a friend to open a clothing store in a newly built shopping mall in Nanning, a bustling city in southern China. They hoped to capitalize on the influx of young shoppers drawn to the mall’s modern amenities and trendy offerings. However, their initial foray into retail proved to be a costly lesson in market research and adapting to shifting consumer tastes. Their stock of casual clothing, while popular in other parts of the mall, failed to resonate with the younger demographic frequenting their floor. They struggled to compete with neighboring stores catering to the latest trends, facing a stark reality: even in a rapidly developing economy, success hinges on a deep understanding of local consumer preferences and the ability to adapt to ever-changing market demands.
While their first attempt faltered, they eventually found their footing by embracing a strategy of rapid turnover and low pricing. By keeping a close eye on emerging trends and replenishing their stock frequently, they managed to undercut competitors and attract a steady stream of budget-conscious shoppers. However, their success also brought new challenges, including cutthroat competition, relentless pressure to stay ahead of the curve, and the constant threat of copycats replicating their most popular items. Hu Anyan recounts the emotional toll of this constant battle for market share, the erosion of trust among fellow shopkeepers, and the psychological burden of always being on edge, ever vigilant for the next threat to their hard-won success.
While these experiences ultimately led Hu Anyan to abandon his entrepreneurial ambitions, they offer valuable insights into the allure and challenges of starting a business in China. They reveal the intense competition, the need for adaptability and resilience, and the constant pressure to innovate and stay ahead of the curve. His story resonates with the experiences of countless small business owners in the US, highlighting the universal challenges of entrepreneurship, while also revealing the unique cultural and economic forces shaping the business landscape in China.
Finding Solace in Writing
Throughout his various jobs and entrepreneurial endeavors, Hu Anyan carried a hidden passion: writing. He describes it as his “other life,” a refuge from the pressures of work and a space where he could explore his inner world, grapple with existential questions, and find solace amidst the challenges of his daily grind. Writing, for Hu Anyan, wasn’t simply a hobby; it was a lifeline, a way to connect with something deeper and more meaningful amidst the often mundane and frustrating realities of his working life.
His literary influences reflect a yearning for authenticity and emotional depth. He was drawn to American realist writers like J.D. Salinger, Raymond Carver, and Richard Yates, whose stories of ordinary people facing life’s complexities resonated with his own experiences. He also found inspiration in the works of James Joyce, particularly “Dubliners,” admiring Joyce’s ability to capture the subtle nuances of human emotion and the quiet desperation lurking beneath the surface of everyday life.
He recounts spending countless hours in his cramped apartment, pouring over these books, analyzing their craft, and attempting to emulate their styles in his own writing. He shared his early stories on online literary forums, seeking feedback from fellow writers and grappling with self-doubt as he honed his skills. He describes writing as a solitary pursuit, a way to make sense of his experiences and to explore the deeper questions that plagued him: the meaning of work, the complexities of human relationships, and the search for purpose in a rapidly changing world.
While his writing never brought him financial success, it offered something far more valuable: a sense of purpose and a way to connect with his own humanity. It provided him with a space to process the frustrations and disappointments of his working life, to explore his emotions, and to find solace in the beauty and power of language. For Hu Anyan, writing wasn’t a means to an end; it was an end in itself, a form of self-expression and a source of meaning that transcended the material rewards of his various jobs.
“I Deliver Packages in Beijing” is more than just a memoir about a string of jobs; it’s a candid exploration of work, identity, and the pursuit of meaning in a rapidly evolving China. Hu Anyan’s journey resonates far beyond the streets of Beijing, offering American readers a powerful lens through which to view the lives of ordinary Chinese citizens and the economic forces shaping their realities. The book deftly peels back the layers of China’s economic miracle, revealing the often-unseen struggles of those fueling its growth.
We witness firsthand the demanding work culture of the gig economy, where workers are treated as replaceable cogs in a machine, constantly pressured to meet quotas and facing financial precarity. Through the author’s experiences, we gain a nuanced understanding of the complexities of Chinese society, navigating the social expectations of the workplace, the cultural nuances of customer interactions, and the challenges of finding one’s place amidst a constantly shifting social landscape.
Hu Anyan’s prose is direct and unpretentious, devoid of sentimentality yet brimming with quiet introspection. He doesn’t shy away from the harsh realities of his experiences, but he also finds moments of humor, camaraderie, and even beauty amidst the daily grind. His story reminds us that even in a system seemingly driven by efficiency and profit, human connection, compassion, and the pursuit of personal meaning endure.
For anyone seeking to understand contemporary China beyond the headlines, “I Deliver Packages in Beijing” is a must-read. It’s a compelling reminder that behind the country’s economic prowess lie the stories of individuals striving for a better life, navigating the challenges of a rapidly changing society, and seeking to find their place in a world increasingly defined by work and its demands. Hu Anyan’s ability to capture these human stories with honesty and empathy makes this book a valuable contribution to our understanding of China today.
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