In the final episode of the recently acclaimed drama Blossoms Shanghai, protagonist Bao Zong quotes a famous line from Gone with the Wind — “Only land remains eternal” — before retiring to the fields of Chuansha on Shanghai’s outskirts. Had his plot not been sold to Disney or converted into another property development, one might wonder: are the Shanghai farmers who were actually working the soil back then still farming today?
In 2023, driven by a similar curiosity, Qiu Tian, then in his final year of a Chinese literature degree, joined Foodthink’s Lianhe Project ecological agriculture internship programme. He spent over half a year working at a Shanghai farm near Chuansha alongside a group of local farmers with an average age of more than 70. This piece documents his observations of these elderly individuals who continue to labour the land.
●In the final scene of Blossoms Shanghai, protagonist Ah Bao stands in the fields of Chuansha, Shanghai, looking toward the future. Thirty years on, Shanghai’s remaining farmland is still being worked by those same elderly farmers.
I. The ‘Venerable’ Elders Still Working the Fields
“Shangkàn” (literally, “crossing the threshold”) is a phrase from the Guizhou dialect. My university flatmate was from a rural village in the province. When talking about the elderly back home, he said that the countryside has never really known the concept of “retirement”; older people typically keep working until they simply can’t go on. Only when their children and grandchildren have all started families and built careers, and no longer need their help, would the seventy- or eighty-year-olds finally ease up. Upon feeling their own strength fade, they would put down their farm tools and either head to a bustling mahjong table or meet up under a tree or at the village entrance to chat idly. With all earthly ties settled, they can face the end with peace of mind. This final stage of life is what locals call “Shangkàn”.nnHaving grown up in the city, I knew nothing of the land, crops, livestock, and vegetables my flatmate spoke of with such enthusiasm, nor did I feel any connection to the classical poetry he quoted, like “A shepherd boy rides a yellow ox, / His song echoing through the woodland shade”. I was the very picture of urban upbringing: unaccustomed to physical labour and unable to tell one crop from another. Driven by curiosity about this rural world and the older generation still living in the countryside, I joined Foodthink’s Lianhe Project as an ecological agriculture intern in March 2023. During my final year at university, I spent over half a year at Letian Bay Farm in Fengxian, Shanghai, working alongside a group of elderly farmers who had all reached “Shangkàn” age.nn
●The men and women working on the farm wear straw hats, making it difficult to gauge their ages from a distance.
Administratively, Fengxian District falls under Shanghai’s jurisdiction, yet for locals, the relationship between the two is rather nuanced. In the local dialect, “Fengxian” and “Shanghai” are regarded as entirely separate places, with no hierarchical or encompassing relationship between them. Should someone need to travel to the city centre for an errand or a medical appointment, they will invariably say they are “going to Shanghai”.
The farm’s location is equally distinctive: on one side, it borders the single-storey houses and sprawling rice paddies of traditional rural life; on the other, it lies just a wall away from tarmac roads, elevated rail lines, and modern housing estates. This contrast frequently leaves me momentarily disoriented, unsure whether I am standing in a city or the countryside.
●One side of the farm adjoins the rice paddies, while the other faces modern roads and elevated railways.
II. Both Labour and Socialising
The men and women working on the farm are locals who have lived here all their lives. With an average age of over seventy, they form the farm’s core workforce.
Over eight months of immersing myself in this land, I gradually became friends with them. I often joined their casual chats in the fields and took the opportunity to visit their homes and share a meal. They would tell me about the history of Haiwan Village: the merger of Xiwan and Fenghai, collective labour during the Great Commune period, and the village secretary’s slogan, ‘Xiwan, Xiwan, vast and arduous.’ We would also chat about the plays we listened to as children and the songs we loved. One of the men, who was the second of eight siblings, even sang two lines of ‘Sailing in the Great Oceans Depends on the Helmsman’ with the wind whistling through his teeth.
● The farm tools on display have long since retired from the fields, yet the elderly people who once used them are still working the land.These elderly residents receive a reasonably good standard of social security. Depending on the policies tied to their registered residence, they draw between 2,000 and 3,000 yuan a month—more than enough for those who already own a home and farmland. The farm operates seven days a week, paying daily wages of 100 to 130 yuan. Until now, I had taken it for granted that the old verse ‘Hoeing under the midday sun, sweat dripping to the soil beneath’ captured the farmers’ daily lot, and I had always wondered why those long past retirement age continued to labour so hard.
After spending more time in conversation with them, I realised there were a few main reasons they kept working into old age:
1. They would be at home with nothing to do. While the village offers leisure activities such as mahjong and square dancing, they simply aren’t their forte.
2. Frequent arguments at home. Staying indoors only breeds unhappiness, so they prefer to come out and work.
3. They have friends on the farm. Working there keeps them company and gives them someone to chat with.
The third point was mentioned most frequently. Whenever they worked side by side, their everyday conversation revolved around family gossip, reminiscences about the past, and bawdy jokes about farm life. Even at the height of August’s sweltering heat, everyone managed to keep the work pace relatively relaxed.
● Mr Ni, 75 (left), is the farm’s primary labourer.
III. Endless Work, But You Still Clock Off
The farm’s working system, situated between city and countryside, is quite ingenious. It draws on the traditional agricultural rhythm of “rising with the sun and resting at dusk,” flexibly adjusting start and finish times across different seasons, while strictly adhering to the modern corporate eight-hour working day. There are no rigid performance targets. The workers primarily labour according to phenology and weather conditions, while also handling various farm-building tasks such as sawing timber, erecting fences, and moving goods.
In August, I was frequently tasked with what everyone agreed was the most arduous job: turning the soil with a small rotary tiller. It left my hands red and throbbing with a persistent, fine vibration long after I’d stepped away. In exchange, though, I could rest fully once a patch was done. There is a saying on the farm: “The work here never ends.” The staff take this to heart, pacing themselves with seasoned experience. Naturally, pouring sweat is still inevitable.
● A sign on the farm, originally meant to encourage city dwellers visiting for a farming experience, yet it perfectly captures the daily lives of the elderly workers labouring here.
Modern notions of time have taken root even among these farmers whose livelihood still depends on the weather. Beyond the daily essentials of straw hats, arm sleeves, and large water bottles, every worker keeps one item within easy reach: a phone or watch set to chime loudly on the hour, serving as a reminder of how long they’ve been at work. Much like the estimated delivery dates displayed for online purchases, we have all grown accustomed to time acting as a pre-payment on our lives, allowing future events to be mentally cashed in advance.
Behind these observations lies the suburban farm’s emphasis on a certain “performative” quality. As machinery liberates productivity, labour becomes a crucial part of our lives, exchanged for time, energy, and money. Yet, as physical hardships like hunger become a thing of the past, the very drive that sustains manual work is continually challenged.
In theory, the elderly staff working on the farm only need to put in a timed eight-hour performance, ensuring their output—the vegetables—meets consumer standards. This is by no means effortless, but it means the farmers do not need to pour extra effort into the land as they would for crops destined for their own tables.
● Resting at dusk alongside the farm staff.
IV. Does One Need to Leave the Land to Find a Future?
In October, I left Letian Haiwan Farm. The staff were keen to urge me to find a new job. In their view, farm work simply offers no prospects, and it is only young people who move away from the land who truly get ahead.
Master Ni is the oldest of them all, and the one who sang to me. At 75, he has been with the farm for three years and plans to officially retire at the end of this year, having crossed into proper retirement age.
Before I left, we laughed and said it would be the last time we met in this life. I rather brazenly asked him, “Are you afraid of dying?” He smiled back, “If it’s time to go, then it’s time to go. Returning to the earth brings peace.” From a squad leader in the Fenghai Production Brigade, to a greening worker on Haiwan Road, and finally to Letian Haiwan Farm, Master Ni has never left the Haiwan area.
● A photograph with Master Ni (left), marking my farewell to the farm.
Foodthink Author
Qiu TianPart finance professional, part Chinese literature graduate tentatively exploring the future.
About the Eco-Farm Internship ProgrammeLaunched by Foodthink in 2021, the Lianhe Project’s Ecological Agriculture Internship Programme aims to support both young people keen on working in ecological agriculture and established ecological farms. It enables participants to acquire practical farming knowledge and skills through hands-on experience, while also helping to document and pass down the expertise of veteran growers. The scheme simultaneously channels highly capable talent into farms, injecting fresh vitality into rural communities.
To date, two recruitment cohorts have been completed, supporting over 40 participants in taking up placements at more than 10 ecological farms across the country, for periods ranging from two months to a year. The second cohort will be “graduating” at the end of 2023, and open recruitment for the third cohort will take place in February 2024. Please keep an eye on Foodthink’s Ecological Agriculture Internship Programme for further updates.
