Chapter Seven - Eating, Shopping, Living

CHAPTER SEVEN

Eating, Shopping, Living

ON THE SURFACE, life in China looks modern. Sleek. Even futuristic.

You can order hotpot from your phone and have it delivered by robot.
You can get your nails done, book a hotel, and pay your electricity bill — all without ever touching a physical card.
High-speed trains crisscross the country at over 300 km/h.
Malls are packed. Coffee shops overflow. Skyscrapers blink neon slogans about progress and pride.

There’s wealth here.
There’s energy.
There’s beauty.

Walk down the right street in Shanghai or Chengdu or Shenzhen, and it feels like the future has already arrived — and it’s being run with style.

But beneath the LED screens and luxury brands, you start to feel something else.

Everything’s clean — too clean.
No graffiti. No buskers. No weird little art collectives.
No protests. No strikes. No satire.
Not because people don’t want to — but because they know better.

Public space is monitored.
Every intersection, every mall, every stairwell has cameras.
Every venue has ID scanning.
Every purchase is logged.

There are signs in subway stations:

“Report suspicious behavior.”
“Maintain harmony.”
“Obey the law — benefit the nation.”

It doesn’t feel like fear.
Not directly.
More like choreography.

You move through the city like a piece in a machine — efficient, contained, optimized.

Most people don’t notice anymore.
They go to hot pot.
They go to karaoke.
They go to IKEA and take naps on the showroom beds — a running joke, but also perfectly normal.

Life goes on.

It’s easy to forget the rules when you’re not trying to break them.

But they’re still there.

They’re just dressed better now.