“The Plague God Is Coming” II: Hundreds of Thousands of Businesses Close to Avoid Fines as the “Avoiding the Plague God” Movement Spreads to Nine Cities Across Four Provinces (July 22–August 4, 2026)
From late July to early August, the “Avoiding the Plague God” movement, which had previously swept across many parts of Heilongjiang Province, began spreading southward after lying dormant for more than two weeks.
During the period from July 22 to August 4, the Yesterday Project documented large-scale collective business closures in nine cities across four provinces—Jilin, Zhejiang, Jiangsu, and Guangdong—involving hundreds of thousands of merchants. Businesses temporarily suspended operations to avoid the potentially heavy fines imposed by Chinese Communist Party inspection teams.
The latest wave of closures has been concentrated mainly in Zhejiang Province. As of August 4, large numbers of businesses remained closed in six cities: Ningbo, Jinhua, Wenzhou, Quzhou, Taizhou, and Shaoxing. Originating in Heilongjiang, this decentralized movement of “nonviolent noncooperation” is now crossing provincial boundaries and spreading to multiple regions of southern China.
Since the “Wangwang Group” launched the projection campaign, the Yesterday Project has documented 241 projection locations across all 31 provincial-level administrative regions in mainland China as of July 20, 2026.
By regional distribution, Hebei and Shandong rank jointly first, with 27 unique projection locations each. Sichuan has 18; Liaoning and Zhejiang have 15 each; Jiangsu has 14; Guangdong has 11; and Heilongjiang, Fujian, and Hunan each have 10.
Note: Additional submissions are welcome. Please provide photo or video evidence.
1. Hebei — 27 locations
Shijiazhuang: Yunzhen Century Hotel, Book Building, Tianshan South Avenue, Huanlehui, Zhengding Sunac Mall, Wanlimiao Pedestrian Street, Yuhua Wanda Plaza, Ximei Flower Street. Baoding: Yi County Huiyou Shopping Plaza, Quyang County Kaijia Shopping Center, Aiqing Plaza, Zhuiguang Pet. Xingtai: Xindu District Douhao Lifang, Neiqiu County Jiayuan Supermarket, Tianyi Plaza, Hao Nanguan. Handan: Congtai District Meilecheng, Dongyuehui CITY, Tianjun Commercial Plaza, Yueran Plaza. Qinhuangdao: Wanda Plaza, Century Harbor, Qinhuang Alley. Langfang: Wanxiang City, Gu’an Yuelaihui. Province-wide locations: Unspecified Location 01, Unspecified Location 02.
2. Shandong — 27 locations
Yantai: Development Zone Wanda Plaza, Zhifu District Wuyue Plaza, Zhifu District Joy City, Penglai District Liqun Haiqing Plaza, Longkou Boshang Shopping Plaza. Jinan: Shizhong District Wuyue Plaza, Lixia District Xinlang Xinu’er Building, Lixia District Hefangli, Laiwu District Inzone. Dezhou: Decheng District Wanda Plaza, Decheng District Future City. Rizhao: Donggang District Inzone Shopping Plaza, Ju County. Zaozhuang: Tengzhou Renhe Plaza, Xuecheng District Hengtai City. Tai’an: Muhua Lane, Taishan District Wuyue Plaza. Liaocheng: Wanda, Guan County Guanbai Shopping Center. Heze: Jiaheli, Cao County Yunlong Plaza. Linyi: Lanshan District Taisheng Plaza. Jining: Zoucheng Chaledi. Zibo: Zhangdian. Binzhou: Bincheng District Wanda Plaza. Weifang: Taihua City. Qingdao: Chengyang District Little Dolphin Gas Station.
3. Sichuan — 18 locations
Luzhou: Wanda Plaza, Xuyong County Yongninghui, Moore Cinema, Bubugao, Shuijinggou, Aegean Sea. Mianyang: Shangma Parkson, CapitaMall, Wangfujing Shopping Center, Parkson Shopping. Chengdu: Sanli Plaza, Taikoo Li, China Merchants Garden City. Nanchong: No. 1 Middle School, Renhe Plaza. Yibin: Cuiping District Wuyue Plaza. Meishan: Weiye Department Store. Zigong: Wanda Plaza.
4. Liaoning — 15 locations
Shenyang: Unspecified Location 01, Heping District Taiyuan Road, Dadong District Fashion Outlets, Tianjie, Hunnan Longfor Paradise Walk, Aibao, Jiuwu Culture City. Dalian: Dongguan Street BJHG Clothing Store, Donggang Yacht Marina, Zhongsheng Suoyuwan Football Stadium, Unspecified Location 01, Xinghai Park, Xiongdong Street. Dandong: Zhenxing District Tianci Future City. Jinzhou: Jinzhou.
5. Zhejiang — 15 locations
Jinhua: World Trade City Plaza, Dongyang Intime City, Heart of Yiwu, Wucheng District Diyi City, Yongsheng Shopping Plaza, Jinhu Shopping. Taizhou: Linhai Fangte Road, Tiantai County Xiangsheng Century Plaza. Wenzhou: Yueqing Liushi Town Modern Plaza, Ouhai Intime Department Store. Ningbo: Gulou. Hangzhou: West Lake Intime. Huzhou: Intime City. Province-wide locations: Unspecified Location 01, Unspecified Location 02.
Daqing: landsee, Xingyao Tiandi, Lailai Zebra Fresh, Sartu Wanda Plaza. Harbin: Harbin, Metro, Gexin Market. Mudanjiang: Chow Tai Fook. Suihua: Beilin District Xingu Apartment. Province-wide location: Unspecified Location 01.
9. Fujian — 10 locations
Fuzhou: Dongbai Center, Dongjiekou, Zhongjun World City, Le Harbor, Taijiang Zhongfang Wanbao City, Xinhua Du Hengsheng Center. Xiamen: Xiamen, Baolong One City. Quanzhou: Nanyi Plaza, Quanzhou.
Xi’an: MOMOPARK, Century Ginwa Gaoxin Store, Lehui Center, Huayang City, Weiyang District Daminggong Wanda Plaza, Lijiacun Wanda Plaza, Longfor Xiangti Paradise Walk Store. Xianyang: Qindu District Shanglin Tiandi. Baoji: Wuyue Plaza.
13. Hubei — 8 locations
Wuhan: Yishi Wanxiang, Pet Expo, Qunxing City, Yangluo Wanda Plaza. Xianning: Wanda Plaza. Xiaogan: Poly International Plaza. Ezhou: Wuyue Plaza. Province-wide location: Unspecified Location 01.
14. Guangxi — 8 locations
Nanning: ASEAN Shengtiandi, Chaoyang Plaza, Parkson Southwest Commercial Center, Qingxiu District Hangyang International Shopping Center. Liuzhou: Water Supply Building. Guilin: Ke World Plaza. Guigang: Guiping City. Hezhou: Binfen Global City.
15. Shanxi — 6 locations
Taiyuan: Gongyuan Times Shopping Center, Huagao Times Plaza, Yingze District Tongluowan. Jinzhong: Yuci District Impression City, Yuci District Yiranzhen Youth Plaza. Jincheng: Gaoping Xu’an East Street.
16. Henan — 6 locations
Zhengzhou: Asia Mall, Gongyi Zhengshang Haobushika. Anyang: Wanda. Xuchang: Gulou Life Plaza. Zhumadian: Jiulongmao. Province-wide location: Unspecified Location 01.
This directory counts currently identifiable projection locations. Each location is counted only once, regardless of how many posts or published records documented it.
“The Plague God Cometh: A Million Merchants’ Nonviolent Noncooperation Movement in Heilongjiang (April–June 2026)”
From April to June 2026, China’s northeastern province of Heilongjiang saw an unprecedented wave of “nonviolent noncooperation.” According to figures compiled by the “Yesterday” project, over 67 days between April 25 and June 30, merchants in 34 counties, cities, and districts across the province collectively shuttered their businesses, with total participation exceeding one million. The movement had no public organizers, no unified call to action, and no identifiable leadership, yet it spread through longstanding tacit understanding among merchants, becoming one of the longest-running and most geographically extensive collective actions in China in recent years. Facing this decentralized, large-scale movement, Chinese Communist Party authorities proved largely powerless, left to watch the wave of closures spread unchecked.
Prelude
The movement first surfaced in a small county in southwestern Suihua, Heilongjiang. On April 25, merchants across Qing’an County shut their doors in unison, with no public explanation offered by anyone and no official comment forthcoming. A day later, merchants in neighboring Wangkui County followed suit. Both closures lasted roughly three days, but they marked the opening act of what would become a large-scale campaign of nonviolent noncooperation.
Escalation
After a lull of more than ten days, on May 12 merchants in Nehe, roughly 300 kilometers from Qing’an County, closed en masse citywide. Over the following two weeks, the movement began spreading across regions. Between May 23 and 29, merchants in Baiquan, Yi’an, Kedong, Keshan, and Fuyu counties in the Qiqihar area joined one after another.
By June, following the sporadic spread of April and May, the movement erupted in full. From June 3 to 16, closures first swept across the Suihua region in succession — Beilin District, Anda, Zhaodong, Lanxi County, Qing’an County again, and Qing’an County. Daqing’s Sartu, Ranghulu, Longfeng, Honggang, and Datong districts, along with Lindian and Dorbod Mongol Autonomous Counties, soon joined as well.
Starting June 17, Qiqihar saw a concentrated outbreak. Within two days, merchants across Tailai, Longjiang, Gannan, Ang’angxi, Meilisi Daur, Fularji, Longsha, Tiefeng, and Jianhua — nearly every county and district in the city — shut down simultaneously, forming the largest regional surge of the entire movement. As Heilongjiang’s second-largest city, nearly all of Qiqihar’s urban districts and subordinate counties were swept into the wave of closures, a scale rarely seen in Chinese collective action in recent years.
Meanwhile, merchants in Daqing’s Zhaozhou County remained closed continuously from June 17 to 23; Nenjiang City in Heihe joined on June 20; and Zhaoyuan County saw two consecutive days of collective closures shortly after.
In late June, the movement continued spreading through the Suihua region. Hailun and Suileng County saw repeated closures over several days, with some areas cycling between opening one day and closing the next. On June 30, merchants in Suileng County closed their doors for the final time, bringing this large-scale noncooperation campaign to a temporary halt.
By that point, merchants across 34 counties, cities, and districts in Heilongjiang had collectively shut down at various points, spanning four prefecture-level cities: Suihua, Qiqihar, Daqing, and Heihe.
The Plague God Cometh
What, then, caused merchants across so many parts of Heilongjiang to shut their doors one place after another, with no unified organization and no public call to action? The answer lies in a term some local merchants use: “the plague god” (瘟神).
According to numerous local merchants and internet users, the movement’s direct trigger was word spreading among merchants — reportedly originating from inside the system — that a joint government inspection team was about to conduct sweeping checks of shops, supermarkets, and restaurants across the district. Inspections themselves are nothing new, so why did merchants close en masse to avoid them? The reason lies in a long-standing pattern: government departments frequently conduct centralized inspections under the banners of fire safety, security, hygiene, and market regulation, then issue steep fines. A single penalty can run from several thousand to tens of thousands of yuan, and sometimes more than 100,000 yuan. For many small merchants, a fine like that can exceed an entire year’s earnings. During times of economic prosperity, merchants could recoup a fine through continued business over time. But with the economy now in a downturn, many merchants are already operating on the edge of profitability, and a single steep fine amounts to a death sentence for their business.
As for what actually counts as “passing” an inspection, officials cannot say and merchants do not understand — but once inspectors are inside a shop, they can always find some pretext for a fine. Fire exits, how food is displayed, hygiene details, licensing paperwork, product labeling: any single detail can become grounds for a penalty.
This uncertainty has left merchants on edge. Some say the inspection teams are more fearsome than COVID-19 — the mere sight of someone walking down the street with a serious expression is enough to raise suspicion that they might be an inspector. As a result, whenever word spreads that inspections are coming, more and more merchants choose to close preemptively for several days to avoid the risk; once one shop shows any sign of trouble, nearby stores tend to shut their doors in unison almost immediately. For merchants, losing a few days’ income is bearable — but a fine is often ruinous.
The fallout extends beyond merchants themselves. With so many shops closed at once, ordinary residents’ daily lives have also been disrupted: restaurants shut down, buying vegetables and household goods becomes difficult, and everyday services like haircuts become hard to find. Many residents have complained online about being unable to buy groceries or find an open barbershop, their routines thrown into disarray. Some have asked why authorities can’t apply this same swift efficiency to problems like food safety, healthcare, and corruption. Out of fear and resentment toward the inspectors, local residents have taken to calling the inspection teams “the plague god.”
Nothing Left to Fine, Authorities Rush to “Set the Record Straight”
With merchants shut down en masse, inspectors have found it difficult to enter shops and find pretexts for steep fines as they once did, and many inspection efforts have come away empty-handed. In an effort to get merchants to reopen, local governments have issued a series of public notices “debunking rumors,” with some areas even dispatching loudspeaker trucks to broadcast along the streets that online reports of merchants facing massive fines are “untrue,” insisting no citywide inspection campaign was underway. But for authorities who had already lost public credibility, these statements failed to ease merchants’ doubts — and in fact deepened their distrust, prompting many to keep their doors closed.
Indeed, during the movement some merchants who believed the official notices did reopen for business — and quickly paid the price. According to accounts circulating locally, fines ranged from tens of thousands to more than 100,000 yuan. Some penalties were reportedly issued over grounds as trivial as three spoiled potatoes found in a shop or a single ashtray left out. Many residents have mocked the fines online, saying it looks like the government is short on cash and “fundraising,” or bluntly, “just collecting money, pure and simple.”
Decentralized, Nonviolent, Noncooperative: A New Model of Collective Action
Over 67 days, this collective action — with no unified organization and no public leader — spread through longstanding tacit understanding among merchants, along with the circulation of information and mutual imitation, eventually reaching 34 cities, counties, and districts across Heilongjiang and forming a textbook case of “nonviolent noncooperation.” For most participants, closing shop began as a simple act of self-interest — avoiding inspections and steep fines. But as more and more merchants made the same choice, these scattered individual decisions coalesced into a mass collective action involving more than a million people.
One key reason the movement lasted more than two months is precisely that it had no fixed organizational structure, making it difficult for authorities to shut down the way they typically handle mass incidents. For years, the Party’s standard approach to mass incidents has relied on identifying organizers, cutting off communication networks, and summoning ringleaders for “talks” — dismantling the organization to end the action. But this movement had no public initiator from start to finish, no unified communication channel, and no jointly issued demands. Whether any given shop closed was, in form, simply an individual business decision. Faced with a spreading wave of closures, authorities found no organizers to arrest and no network to sever, and struggled to fit a widespread shutdown with no rallies, no slogans, and no organizational structure into their existing playbook. The main measures authorities could take during the movement were issuing notices debunking rumors, dispatching loudspeaker trucks, and urging merchants to reopen — all with limited effect.
This phenomenon is especially notable because it unfolded against the backdrop of an ever-tightening stability-maintenance apparatus in China. In recent years, grid-style social management, facial recognition, big-data early-warning systems, social media surveillance, and the close monitoring of “key individuals” have all intensified. In such an environment, large-scale collective resistance that depends on organization, coordination, and public assembly has become increasingly difficult to sustain. Data compiled by the “Yesterday” project and its predecessor, “Not the News,” bear this out: compared with a decade ago, both the number and scale of large-scale civil protests in China have declined markedly.
By contrast, the “avoiding the plague god” movement relied on almost none of these easily identifiable elements. Participants needed no organization among themselves, no fixed assembly point, and no unified list of demands. The movement spread mainly through longstanding tacit understanding among merchants and shared judgment of a common situation, rather than through formal organizational mobilization. As a result, many of the responses the stability-maintenance system has developed for organized action found little purchase against this movement.
At a time when large-scale marches, joint petitions, and organized resistance have all grown more difficult, this mode of action — centered on “noncooperation” and spreading through individual, autonomous decisions — deserves attention. Its barrier to entry is low: merchants need only choose not to open their doors; they need not reveal their identities or take on the risks of being an organizer. It is equally hard to stop, since what draws more people in is not a unified call but the same choice repeatedly made under similar circumstances.
Of course, decentralized action has clear limitations. Without unified organization or representation, participants struggle to form a common set of demands or enter into formal negotiation with the government. How long such a movement lasts depends largely on whether the underlying pressure persists. Once inspections ease and merchants reopen, the action tends to dissipate on its own, unable to sustain long-term pressure around deeper issues such as grassroots law enforcement or the fining system itself.
But in the current environment, this very limitation may be what allows the movement to endure. Without organizers, there is no one to target for a “targeted strike”; without unified demands, there is no single objective to suppress. In this sense, the “avoiding the plague god” movement may represent more than a single episode of merchants shutting their doors — it points to a mode of action gradually taking shape under high-pressure conditions: as space for organized resistance keeps shrinking, people can still express shared grievances through choices made independently yet in striking un
Thousands in Hefei March to Block Garbage Plant, Clash With Police (2026.06.27)
Thousands of residents in Luyang District, Hefei, Anhui Province, took to the streets on Saturday night to protest a planned large-scale garbage transfer station, forcing local officials to announce on the spot that the project would be canceled. During the demonstration, residents clashed violently with police, and several protesters were taken into custody.
Documentary: “The Chongqing Incident: China’s First Major Civilian Anti-Animal Cruelty Protest”
In early June 2026, a rare animal-protection protest broke out in Chongqing, a major city in southwestern China. Thousands of internet users and animal-welfare volunteers gathered for several consecutive days to protest a man accused of brutally killing dogs and to call for legislation of an Anti-Animal Cruelty Law in China. During the demonstrations, participants were repeatedly subjected to violent police suppression, yet they continued to resist for five days despite the significant risks involved. Although the movement did not achieve its demands, this youth- and female-led campaign set a precedent for large-scale grassroots animal-protection demonstrations in China, attracted widespread public attention, and brought the incident to international awareness.
After the “Chongqing incident” erupted, the authorities launched a sweeping censorship campaign and aggressively deleted online posts. Drawing on more than 500 on-site videos that the “Yesterday” project managed to rescue and preserve over several days, we produced this nearly two-hour documentary to record this chapter of history. Our thanks go to all the protesters, videographers, and contributors who were present at the scene.
Massive Protest Erupts in China’s Second-Largest Poverty Alleviation Resettlement Zone: Thousands Clash with Police, Besiege Police Vehicle (2026.05.07)
On May 7, a massive protest involving thousands of residents broke out in the Maojiawan Resettlement Area in Ludian County, Zhaotong City, Yunnan Province—the second-largest cross-county poverty alleviation resettlement site in China. The unrest was triggered by the forced imposition of parking fees by local street authorities and property management.
The protest escalated into a violent confrontation, resulting in a chaotic scene where a SWAT vehicle was besieged for an extended period and at least one villager was injured. Under the pressure of escalating public outcry, the local government eventually announced a suspension of the fees.
The Root Cause
The Maojiawan Resettlement Area is a flagship project of China’s “Relocation from Inhospitable Areas” policy, housing over 39,000 residents from five impoverished counties, including Ludian and Qiaojia. Long touted by officials as a “model project for poverty alleviation,” it aimed to move populations from high-altitude, isolated regions of the Wumeng Mountains into centralized urban settlements.
However, reality has not lived up to the propaganda. Many farmers, who previously relied on the land, found themselves without basic means of production upon arriving in the city. Lacking stable jobs and urban skills, many families now subsist on odd jobs, social security, or temporary income. Meanwhile, the cost of living—including property fees, utilities, insurance, and education—has surged. A typical family now spends approximately 15,000 RMB per year despite living frugally.
Some villagers have expressed a desire to return to their original homes, but those villages and houses were long ago demolished under the banner of “improving lives,” leaving them with no way back. One villager remarked:
“There is no land to farm here. Many of us are poorer than before. In the countryside, at least food and drink were free; we had land for vegetables and grain and no property fees.”
In this fragile economic state, the local community and property management suddenly announced that starting in May, a monthly parking fee of 360 RMB would be charged. For households already struggling with meager incomes, this was the breaking point. Adding to the fury is the fact that property management has consistently ignored issues like leaking roofs and broken facilities, often citing “unpaid property fees” as an excuse, yet they moved forward with new charges without providing legal basis or official government documentation.
The Resistance
The announcement triggered days of protests across several sectors. On May 6, a standoff occurred in “Plot 3” when authorities sent police to forcibly tow away protesting vehicles. Villagers blocked the tow trucks by standing on them, successfully halting the operation.
The Conflict
The situation reached a breaking point at noon on May 7 in “Plot 2.” After some villagers were blocked from driving into the complex, thousands gathered at the main gate. SWAT teams were deployed to suppress the crowd, leading to a physical clash that left one villager with a bleeding head wound. The officer involved reportedly retreated into a police vehicle, which was then surrounded by the angry crowd, preventing it from leaving the scene.
Government Concession
By that afternoon, facing intense public anger, a government official made three public promises via megaphone:
Immediate removal of property gates to allow free entry and exit for all vehicles, supervised by the Deputy Bureau Chief of Public Security.
Immediate suspension of all parking and property fee collections.
Formation of a special task force to hold community meetings and collect feedback on production, living conditions, employment, and property management.
Following these concessions, the crowds began to disperse.
Analysis
For years, such projects have been packaged as “poverty alleviation miracles” and political achievements. However, in practice, many relocated residents have not only lost their land and traditional livelihoods but have also failed to secure stable employment or social safety nets. In some regions, local governments and management companies have been accused of using these zones as “cash cows,” imposing various fees that push already vulnerable families to the brink.
Toy Giant Wah Shing Shutters Four Guangxi Factories in One Day; 5,000 Workers Rally for Compensation (2026.04.22–23)
On April 20, 2026 — the first workday after Guangxi’s “March Third” holiday — four Guangxi factories under Hong Kong toy manufacturing giant Wah Shing Toys simultaneously announced their closure: Rongxian Huayao Toy Manufacturing Co., Ltd., Beiliu Wah Shing Yingfeng Toy Manufacturing Co., Ltd., Beiliu Wanfeng Toys Co., Ltd., and Beiliu Chuangfeng Plastic & Electronics Co., Ltd. Nearly ten thousand workers were left jobless overnight. For two consecutive days, workers staged protests demanding full payment of owed wages and legally mandated severance, but as of the afternoon of April 22, no substantive progress had been made.
Company Statement Sidesteps Specifics
In the closure notice issued to employees, Wah Shing attributed the shutdown to the external economic environment. The company stated that escalating US-China tariff tensions in recent years had caused overseas business conditions to deteriorate sharply, with end clients withholding enormous sums in unpaid orders, ultimately causing a cash flow collapse. All business operations were to cease with immediate effect. While the notice claimed the company would “prioritize employees’ statutory rights, including wages and severance pay,” it provided no details whatsoever on compensation standards, amounts, or timelines. Workers were deeply alarmed: not long ago, Wah Shing had offered workers at another of its closed factories a payout of just 0.5N — half the legal minimum. Under China’s Labor Law, the company is required to pay at minimum the N+1 standard.
A Track Record of Shortchanging Workers
Wah Shing Toys was founded in Hong Kong in 1976 and first established factories in mainland China in 1981. Over more than four decades, it opened 11 factories across Guangdong, Guangxi, and Vietnam, with a total floor area exceeding two million square meters and a workforce of around twenty thousand, ranking among the world’s largest toy contract manufacturers. In recent years, however, as the trade environment worsened and orders continued to shrink, Wah Shing had in fact been running losses year after year. In late 2025, Changrong Toy Factory in Dongguan — a 26-year-old Wah Shing subsidiary — announced its closure after orders plummeted. At the time, the company refused to pay workers the full compensation required by law, triggering days of protests, and the dispute was ultimately settled at just half the legally mandated amount. With the Changrong case as a stark warning, Guangxi workers understood clearly: in a job market that keeps shrinking, once a factory closes, finding comparable work again is nearly impossible. Taking to the streets was the only option left — to fight for a just outcome.
Days of Protest, Authorities Step In
On the morning of April 21, around 5,000 workers from three of the four factories — all except Wanfeng Toys — launched separate protest actions. At Rongxian Huayao and Beiliu Yingfeng, workers blocked the roads outside the factories to draw public attention. Some workers at Yingfeng also climbed onto the factory rooftop and unfurled three large banners. At Beiliu Chuangfeng, workers gathered and hung banners outside the factory reading: “We gave our youth to Wah Shing — don’t go bankrupt on your conscience. Pay us what we’re owed.” In both Beiliu and Rongxian, authorities deployed police to disperse the protesters, but no clashes were reported. On the 22nd, workers continued their demonstrations. A Yulin city vice-mayor was reported to have stepped in to mediate, but as of that afternoon, the workers’ efforts had still yielded no substantive results.
As China’s economy continues its prolonged decline, factories across the country have been shutting down one after another. And those who bear the heaviest cost are always the ordinary workers on the assembly line.
Hundreds of Xi’an Taxi Drivers Rally to Demand Fee Reductions, Chanting “Unscrupulous Government” (2026.04.13)
In recent years, under the dual impact of ride-hailing services and bike-sharing platforms, the traditional taxi market has continued to shrink, causing drivers’ incomes to plummet. However, “contract fees” (known as fenziqian) remain high. A vast portion of their earnings is siphoned off by taxi companies—effectively acting as “white gloves” (proxies) for the authorities—leaving the actual laborers struggling to make ends meet in increasingly dire straits. On April 13, hundreds of taxi drivers in Xi’an, Shaanxi, launched a collective protest at the Xi’an Taxi Management Office, demanding a reduction in these fees. During the rally, led by a representative, the drivers chanted slogans such as: “Unscrupulous government!”, “Down with the Management Office!”, “We need to survive!”, and “We need to eat!”
