Editor’s note: Earlier this week, the Chinese internet was dumbfounded a seemingly new type of life insurance by China Ping’an named “996 worry-free, work hard insurance”, which covers “sudden death/accident/ambulance”, and can compensate up to 600,000 yuan. [996 = working 9am to 9pm, six days a week]

Ping’an quickly clarified that they “don’t offer this product right now”. One publication revealed that this was from 2019. It’s unclear whether it was offered in 2019.

Those who follow China business would remember that 2019 was the height of anti-996 movement. The topic resonates in 2024 because, I believe, the situation has not improved. On one hand, opposition to 996 has grown, with the general public viewing it as capitalist exploitation. One the other, people’s jobs are more on the line than before in an economic downturn, where high-paying jobs are scarce and workers are seen as more dispensable as they approach the age of 35. With weak labor protections, many middle aged workers cannot afford to ‘lie flat’ — they have mortgage to pay, a family to support. Sadly, 996 is discussed less, but overworking has become the norm.

This week’s posts are from WeChat official account @蚂蚁大喇叭 (“speaker for the ants”), featuring a sudden death, health concerns for one’s wife and for a worker himself. You can read them in Chinese when clicking on the titles below.

Words from the wife of a tech worker who passed away at 31

“Every time he worked late, he would bring the free office meals home for us instead. He was truly wonderful.” [See full post below]

Words from a husband about his wife: I hate Double 11

“I am taking medication for depression, and my wife has issues with her mammary and thyroid nodules, which makes me extremely worried.” [See full post below]

Words from an e-commerce worker about his health scare

“I’m currently working at a major e-commerce company — won’t name it to avoid unnecessary trouble since I still rely on the company’s medical insurance reimbursement.” [See full post below]

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Words from the wife of a tech worker who passed away at 31

I still remember our last rushed breakfast together. The sandwich I made for you was slightly burnt, yet you happily ate every bite. At the time, you were feeling unwell, and I urged you to visit the hospital over the weekend. Who would have thought that by the very afternoon, I would receive the devastating news of you collapsing at work? Looking back now, we both ignored the warning signs of illness.

Arriving at the hospital, the doctor diagnosed it as Acute Type A aortic dissection (ATAD). Despite a night of rescue efforts, sadly, at around 6 AM on the [October] 29th, they removed the ECMO machine, and you slipped into eternal sleep.

If you saw me with eyes so swollen from crying that they were almost a slit, you’d probably tease me like you used to, joking that when I cry, my eyes disappear, and I become “ugly”. Although we used to argue over life’s trivial matters, exchange harsh words, block each other on WeChat, and even ignore each other’s calls, you were always the first to cave, and soon we’d be close again. Since losing you, I frequently reminisce about our past, realizing we experienced so much — so many moments filled with sweetness, bitterness, happiness, and disappointment. Together, we experienced the full spectrum of life. Before you left, life felt short, lasting no more than 30,000 days. After you left, life feels unbearably long, as I ponder how far these memories of you can carry me.

I looked at the flatline on the cardiac monitor, watching him breathing through a ventilator, and hearing the doctor explain that it was only an illusion of breathing. I understood, but it still tore my heart apart. I wished so badly that he was just asleep in the hospital bed, with his phone playing our child’s voice: “Daddy, wake up. Daddy, come home.” His mother stood beside us, calling his name until we finally realized we had lost you.

His body was still warm when I touched him. I wanted to embrace him, to kiss him, but he was wrapped in ICU protective clothing, with a mask and cap. I couldn’t. I so desperately wanted to hold him tightly, to feel those sensations, just like before.

Our child is still waiting for him to come home, to return to our home, but he will never come back. Aortic dissection — why did this happen? It was terrifying how suddenly he left us. The emergency doctor initially told us to give up, saying surgery might not save him, with signs of dilated pupils. I said we still had hope and chose treatment. The surgery was successful, and we thought we just needed to wait for him to wake up, to recover. However, we instead waited for the news of his passing. He was only 31 years old — how cruel life is.

Because of his body type, we could only dress him in the largest burial clothes. His lips were pale from intubation, and fluid leaked from his nostrils. We could only place him in the morgue freezer.

His memorial photo was from our wedding day, where he wore a suit, looking handsome, vibrant, and full of life. He was truly good-looking. Countless times, I watched him sleeping. Before giving birth, I touched him and said, “How can you be so handsome?” Then he would grab my hand and kiss it.

He liked to crush plastic water bottles, and I learned to do it too, as if this could help me feel his presence again, and leave his trace. I miss him so much. Whenever he was on a business trip, I would miss him terribly. He always brought small gifts for me and the children when returning. Every time he worked late, he would bring the free office meals home for us instead. He was truly wonderful.

I’m terrified that one day I’ll forget these memories. I really don’t want to forget. I’ll record them, holding on to them tightly.

Words from a husband: I hate Double 11

Screenshots are from Maimai and reposted by the account

“I hate Double 11. My wife is in charge of the supply chain at JD.com and has been coming home close to dawn for the past few days. We barely talk when we meet; she just lies down, turns around, and falls asleep. It’s severely affecting our married life.”

“Because of sleep deprivation on weekdays, she usually sleeps until the afternoon on weekends. The only shared activity we have is a walk around the neighborhood. Yes, that’s it. We don’t do much else together — not even watching a movie feels feasible anymore.”

One user on Maimai wrote: “Take it easy. You’ll get through this.”

He responded: “We are both under tremendous pressure and have no idea how to keep going with this kind of life. I am taking medication for depression, and my wife has issues with her mammary and thyroid nodules, which makes me extremely worried.”

Words from an e-commerce worker about his health scare

I’m currently working at a major e-commerce company — won’t name it to avoid unnecessary trouble since I still rely on the company’s medical insurance reimbursement. To be honest, not long ago, a colleague in my team fainted due to low blood sugar, and I’m the second one who nearly “suddenly died”.

Timeline:

As Double 11 approached, I had already been working overtime late into the night for a week, leaving work almost every day after 11 pm and having to be back by 9 am the next day. One morning, I suddenly felt a dull pain in my chest, and a stabbing pain on the left side of my back, like the kind of pain you’d feel from improper sleeping posture or after intense exercise. This also happened during frequent overtime work for the 618 shopping festival earlier this year. Back then, I went to the hospital for a checkup — the electrocardiogram (ECG) was normal and blood tests showed mild coronary artery calcification. The doctor said it wasn’t a big deal and just told me to rest more at home.

This time initially I didn’t think much of it, assuming it would get better soon. But later that night around 1 am, when I was lying in bed after work, the chest pain became excruciating. Frightened, I immediately called a taxi and rushed to the hospital.

Since it was late at night, only the emergency doctor was available. In the emergency room, the doctor performed an ECG, which came back normal. But when I told her this was the second time I came to the ER for the same symptoms, she suggested I visit the cardiology clinic the next morning and recommended a coronary CT scan for a thorough check. She also reviewed my blood test report, which showed most indicators were within normal range, but my D-dimer level was high. She asked if I was willing to do a pulmonary CTA scan.

I was a bit reluctant at first, because I had chest pain, not cough symptoms, so I didn't understand why a lung CT was necessary, suspecting it was just to make money. My wife, who came with me, suggested that since I was already there, I should do one more check. It was around 5 AM by the time we were heading back, and my wife made an appointment for the cardiology clinic in the morning. I took the morning off and told my boss that I would return to work in the afternoon. However, shortly after the examinations, a nurse came and told me the doctor wanted to see me. The first thing the doctor said to me was, “You have been diagnosed with pulmonary embolism.” He then arranged for a lower extremity venous ultrasound, as I later learned that about 90% of pulmonary embolism patients have the clot originating from the deep veins in the lower limbs or pelvis, to find the source of the clot. However, this ultrasound check did not detect any clots.

“You need to be hospitalized, let me arrange a bed for you right away,” the doctor told me. I was in a daze, but while waiting for the tests, I searched about pulmonary embolism on my phone and knew it was life-threatening. I called my wife first, who comforted me and came rushing from work, and then I called my boss to explain the situation. He told me to focus on recovering and that he would help redistribute my workload… After taking care of these things, I went to the inpatient department to complete the admission procedures.

I’m very grateful to that female emergency doctor — if it wasn’t for her insistence, I might have just used some quick-acting heart medicine and left it at that, missing the actual diagnosis and facing death in the near future.

Why did I get this condition? It may be related to my personality.

I’m self-consuming at work. My wife once joked, “Your dedication isn’t just like an employee’s; it’s like you’re running your own business.” A single word from my manager can determine my mood for the entire day. This illness has made me reflect a lot. I feel the need to document this experience. As the pillar of the family with both elderly parents and young children depending on me, I can’t afford to have any issues. Even as I write this, a sense of fear lingers – without me, my wife would lose her husband, my children would lose their father, and my parents would lose their son. I couldn’t bear to think any further.

With translation help from Rongrong Zhuge and ChatGPT.

Following the Yuan

Why do Chinese workers may need 996…