A Rumination on China
A Story in 5 Snapshots
I moved back to Singapore three months ago, concluding a 3-year stint in Shanghai.
It’s been a period of reverse settling in, of getting used to what used to be so familiar.
People inevitably remark that I was in China for “the COVID years” – I was there from 2020 to 2023. The China I knew and experienced is vastly different from the one many are familiar with. It was a world locked in, at first a happy oasis from COVID raging outside its borders in 2021, and subsequently, a somewhat dystopian place in 2022 amidst lockdowns and capricious policies. Locked in, China became a place inaccessible and very much a mystery to people outside. Even the Chinese themselves have commented that the China of today is one they no longer recognize. Many express pity that because of COVID, I must have had a lesser experience. Not really though; I would say my time in China was all that much richer, in spite of and because of, COVID.
I share 5 observations of China below, lessons which struck me while living there and even more starkly now that I am back.
THE SYSTEM CAN, AND WILL, FAIL YOU (at some point)
You learn to have a healthy distrust wariness of the system
The starkest memory of my time in China is from the first two weeks of April 2022. Shanghai announced that Puxi, where I lived, would go into lockdown on 1 April 2022 for 4 days. I remember looking out my window at the usually bustling roads that were now eerily silent. The strange stillness hung in the air, heavy with trepidation. Emotions across the city ranged from sanguine confidence that the lockdown would be temporary, to a rising anxiety as the Pudong lockdown which began on 28 March extended past its original promise of 4 days.
The lockdown is an experience I find difficult to properly articulate to those who have not experienced it. Many have likened it to the lockdowns in their respective countries or Singapore’s Circuit Breaker. No. The lockdown in China was different, for nowhere else in the world, could such draconian measures be imposed and enforced. 足不出户, literally. The point was driven home constantly by omnipresent loudspeakers on the street and in residences. Gone were things I took for granted – the ability to walk out of my apartment whenever I wanted for fresh air, the ability to head out to buy food/household supplies, the ability to *choose* what I wanted to eat or the ability to order meals in, the ability to have coffee, milk, fruits or even eggs on a daily basis, and even, the ability to open the door – just ask the people who woke up one morning to find their doors chained/taped shut. This was an overturning of life and choice as I knew it, having grown up comfortably in Singapore with (admittedly) #firstworldproblems.
I had entered lockdown with naïve (and very Singaporean) confidence that this would be temporary, that the system would prevail in stamping out the virus, as usual. Nevertheless, I put in an extra order of groceries, scheduled to arrive on 1 April (the first day of lockdown, and the earliest available delivery slot). The groceries never came, heralded by a mere text message that offered a weak apology for supplies running out and a lack of couriers. This was the first wakeup call.
The first two weeks of lockdown passed in a blur of frantic attempts to procure groceries, standing by for orders to go for swab tests, putting away groceries, and cooking – I previously documented the lockdown here. I must admit it was a very foreign moment for me one day, when I found myself counting the bunches of bokchoy, eggs and oranges I had left in my fridge, limiting myself to just 2 meals a day and mentally rationing them out across the remaining days.
Singapore does do that to you somewhat, train you to trust the system, lull you into a sense of security. We sometimes underestimate how much we have taken for granted growing up in Singapore. After all, the system rarely fails. When protests emerged in Shanghai, and videos circulated of people banging pots and pans in hunger, it felt like a wholly 1984-esque dystopian society. China had trained its people to be similar in that respect – many have put complete faith in the system to provide for and protect them. When the system collapsed and people lost basic human rights (ie. People locked in homes despite an earthquake in Chengdu, lives lost during a fire in Xinjiang as the lockdown impeded rescue/escape efforts, 四月之声 – Shanghai’s memory of the 2-month lockdown), trust in the government irrevocably cracked. A year on, each time the Shanghai lockdown is mentioned, it is inevitably met with a sigh, a shake of the head and an incredulous chuckle. The world may have moved on, but for those in Shanghai from March to May 2023, this is a scar – a scar that has lightened and memories that have gotten fuzzier, but a scar nonetheless.
POLICIES ARE BLUNT, MERCURIAL AND EXCESSIVE, SOMETIMES SENSELESS
The invisible hand of the government
China’s heavy-handed approach to COVID has been well-reported. 一刀切。People would be locked down indiscriminately, as long as they were found to have had crossed paths with a positive case (or a potential carrier). Never mind that lockdowns could be in situ (in malls, offices, restaurants) and with immediate effect, or that the overlap had occurred a week ago while a potential carrier roamed free on the streets. Things didn’t always make sense. Law enforcers were guided solely by the aim of reporting COVID-zero and carrying out marching orders without deviations. During the lockdown, ART kits were distributed with instructions for us to test ourselves (sometimes twice) before heading downstairs for the official PCR tests. The unsaid instructions: Please stay at home and not ‘taint’ the official results if you have a positive ART test.
Post-lockdown, it felt like we were living on a timer, and always at risk of getting locked down again. We lived in constant uncertainty and anxiety, especially going out of town and not being sure if we would make it back safely. I recall escaping from Shenzhen back to Shanghai on a night flight hours before Shenzhen locked down the next day amidst a sudden rise in cases. It was mandatory to do swab tests almost every day to keep our health codes green. A friend had his health code turn yellow one day when he forgot to take his test and the timer ran out – he was unable to enter any swab test booth (because of the yellow code) but without taking a new test, his code would remain yellow and he would be shut out of all public transportation, malls/offices and potentially even his own residence. Life in 2022 COVID-crazed China was filled with many of these wtf moments.
On 7 December 2022, in a drastic about turn, the Chinese government suddenly announced the complete lifting of COVID measures. In a matter of days, the virus spread like wildfire. Within a week or so, it felt like life in Shanghai had come to a standstill. I recall being particularly frustrated one night because I was unable to order groceries; I was not ready to go through the ordeal of having no food again. It was like déjà vu, Lockdown Rebooted, except in reverse. The city-wide logistics system was, once again, crippled. While previously it was because everyone was ordering groceries in but delivery riders were similarly locked down, this time around, it was because the delivery riders were falling sick too. Everyone was dropping like flies. It felt like a zombie apocalypse. Logistics came to a halt, the financial system stalled, many stores on the streets were shut, usually busy subway stations were like ghost towns. Everyone was sick. (Fake) Medicine was being hawked on black markets, old wives’ tales of canned peaches boosting immunity were being circulated fervently. Everyone hunkered down at home in an ironic voluntary self-quarantine in an attempt to avoid the virus.
Life felt ludicrous at times, particularly when everywhere else in the world, life had moved on. Anxiety was through the roof.
Parody video circulated on WeChat. Credits to the creator.
Living with COVID in China simply underscored how much the government is omnipresent in everyday life. This has been taken as the way of life in China. We learnt to turn off the cell signals on our phones when travelling interstate on the gaotie, lest our health codes turn red after passing through a high-risk area. After the Shanghai protests in November 2022, there was a marked step up in police patrolling my neighborhood. This was next to the Site of the First National Congress of the Chinese Communist Party (一大会址) at Xintiandi, a sensitive location. Not to be mistaken, it was less of keeping people safe and more to deter protesters.
People would be randomly stopped at subway stations and their phones checked for illegal apps. Post-reopening, news reports of deaths were censored, COVID deaths callously put down to other causes to deflect blame, even WeChat posts mourning the dead and criticizing the lack of timely care were taken down, triggering widespread discontent nationwide.
The government is all-powerful in China, and it is an unsaid truth – it is important to be on the right side of the government. Analysts pore over government speeches and readouts in an attempt to read the tea leaves and discern the direction of the wind. Companies rush to align themselves with policy directions and incentives – this doesn’t always end well, resulting in oversupply and market saturation (eg. Solar, EV). Policies are drastic and excessive. Overnight, businesses could be throttled, individuals could disappear. This mercurialness has become increasingly apparent in recent years, turning corporates and individuals skittish. Everyone is forced to develop backup plans, whether they want to or not. After the 2021 edutech clampdown forced these companies into becoming non-profit organizations, New Oriental pivoted to livestreaming as an innovative way of offering quick English lessons; the 2022 crackdown on crypto in China forced companies to develop ‘digital collectibles’ (数字藏品) instead of NFTs, with secondary trading prohibited. Today, companies whisper of fines being imposed by the government for the most random of reasons, as local authorities attempt to build up dwindling fiscal revenues. Many have likened it to 保护费 (protection money). In the face of increasing volatility in the domestic operating environment, everyone is kept on their toes. Everyone is trying to hedge risks.
THE CHINESE FLUIDITY
Retaining maximum flexibility to adapt to new developments
“故兵无常势，水无常形；能因敌变化而取胜者，谓之神。”
"So a military force has no constant formation, water has no constant shape: the ability to gain victory by changing and adapting according to the opponent is called genius."
– Sun Tzu, The Art of War
The Chinese have internalized this, which has been translated into the way of business in China. Driven by the vast market opportunity, many Chinese companies have pursued unfettered growth in the past 10 years, expanding into new businesses rapidly. Today, the capriciousness of policies makes this fluidity and agility more important than ever. Chinese companies rarely hold on fast to a single business model or product. Instead, they are quick to pivot and capitalize on market opportunities in face of changes, while leveraging their core capabilities. Business model canvases or structured design thinking processes are rarely used, or even heard of, among the Chinese companies – they are simply too limiting and slow. But few would deny that Chinese companies are among the most innovative in the world.
China, once viewed as the copycat of the world, is arguably a leader in innovation – business model innovation, product innovation, service innovation, process innovation. Examples are abundant (eg. SHEIN, Ant Group, Mixue, Nio, Anker). Speed is also critical. Speed is what allows them to benefit most substantially from being the first mover. Alternatively, they could be fast followers, but speed allows them to expand and adapt quickly, even overtake the incumbents. Take BYD for example. The battery and automotive maker capitalized on the mask shortage in early days of the COVID pandemic to pivot quickly to making masks by repurposing its subsidiary (an electrical components maker). In June 2020, it secured a USD 1 billion deal to supply masks in California, earning a handsome margin of 450%.
On the personal front, for someone who likes structure, clarity and really likes being able to plan and see ahead, I admittedly took time to get used to the fluidity of operating in China. In Singapore, my meetings were often lined up two to three weeks in advance. Trying to schedule meetings two weeks later in China was considered “too far out to be able to confirm”. Or the client would agree to the meeting, only to forget about the appointment when the actual day arrived. I soon learnt to start planning for the next week’s meetings only at the end of the current week. I cross-referenced this observation with my Taiwanese friends, also expats in Shanghai. It is a common pet peeve among my fellow internationals – everything is last minute here. Meeting requests frequently come for the very same afternoon or the next day. In fact, it is normal practice for many of the Chinese to line up business trips, land in the city, and then schedule meetings.
I’ve made peace with some of that fluidity, even adopting it sometimes, to retain maximum flexibility in my work and schedule. I’ve also acquired a newfound appreciation for how quickly Chinese companies pivot, whether successfully or not – never underestimate them.
THE ENDLESS HUSTLING “卷”
And the intense competition
Most have heard of the infamous 996 culture in China. That is just the tip of the iceberg. Work culture in China is characterized by hustling, or as described by the Chinese themselves, 卷. An abbreviation of 内卷, otherwise known as involution, it is the buzzword that encapsulates the vicious rat race in China, where companies slash prices in a bid to gain market share at the expense of bottom-lines and employees toil tirelessly in order to stay relevant, but to minimal results.
Competition is intense given the size of the market. Those who have survived the bloodbath in China and achieved market leadership are often best in class when they head for global markets, no lesser than the incumbents in developed markets like the US. After all, their capabilities and competitive instincts have already been sharpened by the fierce competition at home. This story has played out in multiple sectors – BYD in the EV space, Pinduoduo/Temu in e-commerce, CATL in batteries, Huawei/Xiaomi for mobile phones.
At the company level, there tends to be more competition than there is collaboration. Power is centralized at the top, and information is siloed. The Chinese boil it down to general mistrust, preferring to retain oversight and transparency only at the very top, and limiting information access to only what is necessary for those at the lower rungs. A client attributed the low trust levels to the prevalence of underhand market tactics in the past, of a cowboy era previously where there were minimal rules – poaching, IP theft, anti-monopolistic tactics, sabotage, etc abounded. Many companies subscribe to the horse racing style of competition (赛马), where two teams are given the same brief and pitted against each other to see who prevails. This was made famous and proven effective by Tencent, and the culture is still well and alive today in companies like Temu. Team leaders who prevail are often heroes who are feted and go on to rise fast within the company. Chinese corporate culture is often ruthless and cutthroat, designed to squeeze every ounce of utility out of people. This, coupled with the intense competition, also means that there is a high level of distrust, factions and hidden minefields when operating in China.
The intense competition all around means that on the individual level too, everyone is hustling, everything is urgent, and there is little distinction between work and personal life. Clients have no qualms suggesting meetings on Friday nights and weekends. I recall an incident where a client requested a meeting on a public holiday, only to express sarcastic surprise that the practice in Singapore was to not work on public holidays or on weekends. Long holidays in China (eg. Golden Week) are often used as opportunities to go on a business trips to where it is not a holiday. For the Chinese, the world functions on WeChat, not email, so messages stream in at all hours of the day. For employees, it is not simply important to work hard, but equally important to be seen to be working hard.
Many companies still subscribe to having employees put in long hours, with management walking the office floor at 9pm to see who is still at their desks. One young unicorn founder I spoke to complained that when he sent a text at 11pm on Friday night, his Chinese employees would reply by 2am, while his Singaporean employees would only reply on Monday morning. The rest of the world moves at a snail’s pace relative to them.
The pace is relentless.
CHINA REQUIRES AN OPEN MIND TO UNDERSTAND
Leave room to be pleasantly surprised
I was surprised at the number of times I was asked, after I returned from China, whether “things were really that bad” in China. Many people’s impression of China is that it is in the doldrums, a mental image of empty streets and boarded up shops, no thanks to Western media and sensationalist Youtube videos. The actual picture is more nuanced than that.
Things are continuing to hum in the major economic centres, although admittedly, the economic outlook has drastically dimmed this year. Funding is drying up, corporates are less optimistic about China’s relationships with the rest of the world, property prices have taken a nosedive, while rising unemployment has translated into anxiety on the ground. Confidence in the economy has taken a hit, which has translated into poor consumption. However, that is mostly within the mass market segment. The other two ends of the spectrum, luxury and low end, are actually seeing robust growth. In fact, Luckin Coffee’s growth outpaced that of Starbucks in 2Q 2023 with an 88% YoY increase in revenue. The rise of the likes of Mixue (蜜雪冰城) and Cotti Coffee (库迪咖啡) – all consumer brands targeting the lower tier cities 下沉市场 – are testament to strong growth. The demand for luxury has not faltered, as luxury stores in major economic hubs continue to see booming sales. Luxury sales have seen slowdowns in the rest of the world, but China’s sales are expected to grow by 20% this year. Bright spots remain in China, across sectors like renewables, batteries and EVs, intelligent mobility, AI and tech – there continues to be room for upside in innovation, technological breakthroughs and exports.
Working in China, relationships are important. At the same time, power is less about formal designations and titles, but the official or unofficial influence that someone has. China really requires you to put in the time to cultivate relationships over meals, coffees, during the week, over the weekend. The Chinese believe in spending time to get to know each other before talking shop – 吃饭认识再谈生意. Meetings can often stretch for 4 hours, even 6 to 8 hours, first the customary 走展厅 (walking the exhibition hall) or visiting the factory, an actual meeting, and an extended meal. Often, the actual meeting is the shortest component of the whole affair. Admittedly, I took some time to get used to the sheer ‘inefficiency’ of it all. However, you soon learn that some of these more casual interactions are when colourful personalities emerge, when intel gets divulged, where you learn the real needs of the clients, and trust is built. Often, the line between work and personal is blurred, where everyone wants to 交个朋友 (make friends). And it is necessary to make friends and play the game. My friend spoke of having to fly to Shenzhen on a regular basis to hike with a prospective client on Saturdays, followed by a long lunch and a mahjong session – no business talk. It was simply par for the course. To draw the line at partaking at these leisure activities would also be to cut oneself out from the potential commercial deal.
Some of my favorite memories are of experiencing slices of local life. In a very uncharacteristic move, I picked up traditional Chinese dance with retired 大妈s as classmates. It turned out to be a class I grew to look forward to every week, a vast step up from lurking self-consciously at the back of the room. And while I still cannot catch the rapid-fire Shanghainese that they converse in, their warmth in welcoming me into their community has been quite endearing. In other adventures, I was on a spontaneous solo trip to Jingdezhen (景德镇, home of Chinese porcelain) where I met大妈s very earnestly offering to help me take photos, even directing poses and camera angles. I also had another 大妈 approach me unabashedly to borrow my coffee cup for a photo in a café. I acquiesced, and she got her requisite social media post to 打卡without needing to spend money on her own cup. She sauntered away quite pleased with herself.
China is an acquired taste. Of all the different cuisines of China that I’ve endeavored to try, Hui cuisine 徽菜 stands out. In a nutshell, Hui cuisine is described as 盐重好色 轻度腐败 (a play on words, alluding to the food being highly salted, with rich colors, and mostly fermented). 臭鳜鱼 (stinky fish – fish marinated in salt and fermented for 8 days) and 毛豆腐 (hairy tofu – tofu fermented until it grows hair) are two of the signature dishes of Hui cuisine. At times, they almost feel like particularly apt metaphors for China. The dishes were borne out of circumstances – Anhui, being a landlocked province, had limited access to fresh seafood; people had to ferment seafood in order to transport and preserve them. These dishes take time to ferment in order to bring out the truly unique flavors, just as how China takes time to truly appreciate. But they are tasty, as long as you can get past the slightly unattractive appearance and smell. Unlike the foods of Sichuan, Guangdong, Fujian or Jiangsu, Anhui specialties have not travelled far beyond China.
You’ve gotta go to Anhui to try 徽菜. You’ve gotta go to China to fully experience China.
EPILOGUE
Returning to Singapore from Shanghai after 3 years, I still have a love-hate relationship with China. I’ve loved the convenience of daily life there; I’ve loved watching the speed at which innovation happens and having a front row seat to it. It’s been amazing, watching China evolve from a market dismissed for producing cheap ripoffs and feeble imitations, mature into one that is churning out globally competitive players and regional champions, and producing market leaders which focus only on ex-China markets from Day One. I’ve written about some of these innovations in previous posts (eg. Consumer, EVs, coffee culture, SaaS).
Some parts of China still grate at me though, and I am still very much an outsider at times. I can’t catch the rapid-fire Shanghainese (or other dialects) among the locals. My Mandarin is neither flowery nor rooted in Chinese history and legends. But I get by, I get the job done. When all else fails, I fall back on English with an accent – life hack: it still works, the clients understand, they actually like to do it themselves. Admittedly, I still carry with me some Western sensibilities. My preference is still to 先认识再吃饭, reserving my time and energies for people and clients I trust and want to deepen the relationship with. But at times I do relent to 吃饭认识.
I am (still) not very ‘Chinese’, decisively affirmed by one of my bosses after I returned to Singapore. But the 3 years in China have truly broadened my horizons and afforded me experiences I would never have had otherwise. And I am all the better for it.
Allow yourself to be surprised in China.
I thoroughly enjoyed your reflections, cas! so true about the Chinese working culture. I've come to take the dingtalk immediacy and last-minute meetings as a given, not realising that it is quite unique to this part of the world. Working with the Chinese has indeed been eye opening, it stretches one through discomfort and often even pain, but yet fulfilling altogether. And despite 4 years here in a BABA company I still learnt loads from your post - a lot of what I'm experiencing makes much sense in light of what you've written here.
anyway, welcome back to SG! - huiwen