Just a few days ago, I needed to keep some important documents close at hand, so I made a special trip back to an old apartment I own in central Shanghai to retrieve them. But once I had what I came for and walked downstairs, I found myself in an awkward situation — a long white warning tape had been stretched across the entrance. I asked around and got my answer: quarantine lockdown, 48 hours, no one in or out.
Fortunately, while the compound itself is old and rundown, the apartment had just been renovated last year, making it quite comfortable to stay in. From the window, you get a view of a bustling street scene — the endless flow of ordinary city life and its cast of characters, which I’ve always found helpful when I’m writing or thinking through ideas. I often use this place as a retreat when I need time alone to clear my head.
The location may be good, but the residents here are a far cry from those in the newer, upscale developments. And the incident that struck me most deeply — the one that compelled me to write this piece — happened right here.
On the second day of quarantine, during the second round of PCR testing, I heard a commotion at the front of the line. Looking over, I saw a gray-haired old man — the classic Shanghai alley-dweller type — pointing his finger at a volunteer in full white protective gear, cursing her out in the local dialect, his words sharp and cutting.
“Cè nà! You people get boxed lunches and bottled water and all you have to do is stand around taking swabs. We’re cooped up at home and can’t even buy groceries — you understand that?!”
“Sir, please let me explain—”
“Explain what?! I’m telling you — go get your supervisor out here right now!”
“Sir, we’re working to coordinate things, please be patient for a moment… I will—”
“You’ll what? ‘Coordinate’ my ass! All these tests and what good has it done?! Just open the gates already!”
“Sir, please understand, we have to wait for official public health guidance—”
“Are you out of your mind? Say one more word and I’ll slap you!”
On one side: an aggressive, unreasonable bully. On the other: a young volunteer holding her ground with patient explanation and barely concealed distress.
What made it worse was the crowd of neighbors standing around — the petty, calculating, always-hungry-for-drama type — clapping and cheering for the old man, treating him like some hero speaking truth to power. Every word out of his mouth landed squarely in their comfort zone.
This “hero” was fighting for their right to cluster in the courtyard gossiping, and to pack eight people into someone’s apartment for an all-day mahjong session. He was loud, domineering, bellowing about every inconvenience he’d been forced to endure.
But anyone with clear eyes could see — this man was no hero. He was simply a bully who had found an audience ready to cheer him on.
The real hero was the one being verbally abused, the one these people didn’t bother to understand: the young volunteer, sweltering inside her protective suit. From her voice, her tone, and the earnest, slightly unpolished way she treated people, I could tell she was no older than a college student.
Yes — she was the true hero in white, quietly maintaining order and doing her job for the safety of everyone around her. Just like all the healthcare workers, police officers, civil servants, and countless volunteers who, under enormous pressure, are still standing at their posts during this final wave of the pandemic — fighting it with their sweat and tears.
We all know that being a hero comes at a price. And the most heartbreaking part of that price is that heroes are often the ones who suffer the most misunderstanding.
Of course, in this environment, it’s completely normal to feel frustrated — even I’ve vented to friends and family more than once about the inconvenience of back-to-back 48-hour lockdowns. But watching that old man push further and further, clearly singling out the volunteer because she seemed easy to bully, his finger practically poking her in the forehead — I couldn’t stay on the sidelines anymore.
I walked over in two steps and positioned myself between them. I patted the old man on the shoulder, looked him in the eye, and said:
You’re a grown man, aren’t you? You’ve lived all these years and the best you can do is vent your anger at some young woman? What did she ever do to you? Sounds to me like your mouth is asking to be slapped.
He clearly hadn’t expected anyone to step in for the volunteer. He stumbled over his words for a moment — but once he got a look at my build, he muttered something under his breath and shuffled back into the line.
Meanwhile, my wife — worried things might escalate and become hard to explain — recorded the whole exchange and shared it in a group chat of our close friends.
This group is made up of people who have known Master Chi for many years — mostly Shanghai-based friends from business and finance. Most of them live in well-known top-tier and near-top-tier residential developments in Shanghai. In those communities, attacking, cursing, and humiliating healthcare workers and volunteers is simply unthinkable behavior.
So when they saw the video, nearly everyone responded with a facepalm emoji. About 95% had the same reaction: Why take your anger out on a young volunteer? Shouldn’t the blame go to yourselves — for gathering constantly, ignoring the warnings, packing people together for mahjong sessions, and spreading the virus further?
The other 5% were more blunt: If he’d been facing a tough, no-nonsense man instead of a young woman, he never would have dared use that person as an emotional punching bag.
In just those two observations, both the root of the conflict and the underlying dynamics of this pandemic were laid bare. That is the edge a discerning group has over a mob.
I’m not trying to use this moment to make a classist argument. But I do sincerely want to put forward this point: character and socioeconomic level are closely correlated.
Take my own situation: because I accumulated multiple properties across Shanghai over the years, I now belong to several residential owner group chats spanning very different price ranges. And nothing reveals a community’s true character more accurately than its owner group chat.
In the chats for older, smaller, lower-value apartments, you’ll reliably find: dubious health supplement ads, breathless political commentary of unclear origin, and page after page of complaints and accusations every single day. Under the current lockdown policies, the complaints have multiplied tenfold, drowning in profanity.
In the chats for luxury developments, the tone is far more rational, restrained, and understanding. Suggestions are grounded in logic and practicality, and people work toward solutions step by step. Incidents of targeting volunteers or pandemic workers as scapegoats are extremely rare — and when they do occur, they’re usually the result of genuine misunderstandings or real problems that legitimately need to be addressed.
In short: the more upscale the community, the more goodwill and understanding flows toward healthcare workers and volunteers.
Is that goodwill manufactured or performative? No. The deeper reason is that most of these people can simply think it through. Much of the anger and frustration circulating right now has no real basis. The pandemic policies, the selfless volunteers, the frontline healthcare workers and police — everyone is working toward the same goal of making the environment safer. So as people who aren’t on the frontlines, the least we can do is cooperate and show understanding. Once the pandemic is behind us, won’t everything return to normal?
Besides, no amount of acting out, causing trouble, or making scenes will change or undermine the larger effort to defeat this pandemic. The only likely outcome is ending up in handcuffs for obstructing public duties.
Such a simple truth — and yet, for many places and many groups of people, it seems genuinely impossible to grasp.
At its core, today’s piece comes down to two points:
1 — The ancient story of Mencius’s mother moving house three times was absolutely onto something.
If you spend long stretches of time surrounded by impulsive, reckless, illogical people, you will gradually come to see their way of thinking and behaving as normal. Conversely, if you consistently keep company with rational, measured, and thoughtful people, you will naturally grow to resemble them over time.
Stay near vermillion and you turn red; stay near ink and you turn black. Keep company with the poor and you remain poor; keep company with the prosperous and you move toward prosperity. This is a timeless truth that has never changed.
2 — The pandemic is entering its final chapter. Hold on a little longer, and victory is inevitable.
There are plenty of narratives circulating right now, and as a non-medical professional, Master Chi is in no position to weigh in. But looking at the severity of symptoms and the overall trajectory, things are slowly and steadily becoming more optimistic and more manageable. That outcome, though, still depends on every one of us doing our part.
Master Chi wants nothing more than to return to enjoying this world-class city the way I always have — going out, shopping, taking in everything it has to offer. But right now, it’s not quite itself. It needs a brief recovery period. So let’s not disturb its healing, and let’s make things easier — not harder — for the healthcare workers, police officers, and volunteers who are working so hard.
Don’t you agree?
Today is the weekend, so let this stand as a casual reflection. In closing, I pray that after the trials of this pandemic, we emerge into a nation at peace — blessed with prosperity and clear skies ahead.