China’s COVID story is not being told

China has just ended it’s “zero-COVID” policy. After nearly three years of being an isolated behemoth, demonstrating a singular alternative to the wider world’s mitigation strategies, the People’s Republic of China is opening up and essentially giving up on ending the disease, opting instead for living with it.

Indeed, the national government reportedly is even favoring a full-scale “herd-immunity” strategy, hoping that enough people will have caught and recovered — thereby gaining natural immunity — that the impending Chinese New Year celebrations will not be disrupted. As such, the Chinese authorities are no longer recording positive test results, demanding negative tests for basic activities like entering a grocer, or automatically sending potential positives to one of the thousands of COVID internment camps built across the country over the course of the pandemic.

The Chinese government is, however, still not being honest and upfront about how events are unfolding in the wake of zero-COVID’s abandonment. People are dying, but the government is not admitting it or allowing Chinese media to report on it. But some things they can’t cover up: like the overflowing morgues and crematoriums.

A friend of mine forwarded me a post from WeChat, China’s premier phone app, about how dire the situation is in Beijing and how ordinary Chinese are being taken advantage of as their loved ones die around them. Below is the post, now scrubbed and censored from the WeChat platform and legally unavailable to see within China. I edited for grammar and punctuation and vocabulary. The post in original Chinese is below. My thanks to Chen for trusting me with and helping me translate and edit this.

Commemorate Comrade Li Jianhua

On December 18, 2022, my third uncle, Li Jianhua, unfortunately passed away, very suddenly, because of a previous history of cancer. He died in his sleep, and on the 19th, I was notified by his sister. I was surprised beyond words to learn that he was going to be cremated the next day. I was wondering if his body should still be kept in a temporary shelter for three days, but on the 19th, I rushed to Guang’anmen Hospital of Traditional Chinese Medicine at five o’clock in the morning in a sad mood. What happened next, I will probably remember for a long time.

First, the cremation site is in Miyun [Editor’s note: 73 km from Beijing]. I asked my sister why it is so far away, and she replied that she had been calling all the cremation sites in Beijing since yesterday. They all said that an appointment for cremation was needed in advance. Some funeral homes, like Babaoshan, could give us an appointment in a month, some could give us one in a week.

Yesterday, after a third uncle died, I tried calling 120 [China’s emergency services number]. They could not send a car to pick up the bodies, because there was no space in the hospital to store the body. My sister was surprised and asked what she should do with the body.

They replied that she had to store the body at home. My sister panicked. How could she store the body at home? Put his body in a refrigerator?

She begged for another solution, promising to spend as much as it takes, to at least store his body in a proper morgue. An anonymous woman, who must have a kind heart, suggested that my sister contact a one-stop funeral service company to see what can be done. My sister quickly contacted one and was told that the body could be stored at Guanganmen Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital. She calmed down a little.

Calling the service company resulted in a fee of 38,000 Yuan [US$5,500], no bargain allowed. Service included: sending the body to the crematorium (10,000 Yuan), queuing up the crematorium to ensure that the body can be cremated (3,000 Yuan), and overnight storage in the morgue (5,000 Yuan).

The number they quoted is a little bit fuzzy and my sister presses them about it. She was told that if she had so many questions, she could just not take the deal.

The crematorium was already run in a full capacity, and some people who failed to secure a chance for cremation had to store the deceased at home, some bodies have already been stored at home for a week.

Asked what else was included in the deal, she was told that the urn needed to be self-bought, and the cremation money was also not among the 38,000. They asked her if they “have a deal or not” and my sister said, “Yes.” She was thankful and felt lucky.

The next day we went to the Guanganmen Hospital of Traditional Chinese Medicine. The hearse came very early. A tall, thin man silently transported coffins into the elevator; one, two, three, four…

We were immersed in sadness, and everyone was silent, when the driver told us to go downstairs to the morgue as he transported the body. Everyone hurried to the elevator when suddenly the driver shouted. He spoke with an accent and I didn’t hear clearly, so I asked loudly “What did you say?”

He didn’t speak at first, and then he said: “Hurry up, don’t grind.”

In my heart, I thought: “Brother, what is your problem? Don`t you see that the family is in grief? Are you asking to be beaten up?” However, time was urgent, and I hurried down to the morgue.

I know how to describe the situation in the morgue except that corpses are all over the floor.

I thought that the deceased were stored in those small ice cabinets. I was puzzled when the master of the morgue said that the family should hurry up and take a quick look at the body and should not waste too much time. It turned out that uncle’s body had already been put in the car instead of the ground — I think this must the VIP treatment.

After hastily cleaning up, the coffin was covered, and everyone worked together to put the coffin into the hearse. The driver gave instructions to the inexperienced temporary workers and then told us: “Hurry up, today we go to Miyun cremation site and if we arrive there late and miss the chance to cremate the body today, I should not be blamed.”

That made me angry but I dared not collide with him as he could easily revoke the deal.

Everyone drove their own cars and we left at five o’clock, arriving an hour later at the courtyard of Miyun cremation site. We saw the crowd from afar and approached them. It was explained that we needed to queue up, so we stood at the end of the line. After a while, bad news came: today only forty bodies could be cremated. The rest had to wait until tomorrow. We looked at the queue and tried to count the number of people; we were number 43.

My sister quickly contacted the driver, who replied that yesterday everything was fine and the rule was changed today. If the body could not be cremated here, they could help transport the body elsewhere for cremation. He also said that we should wait a while so they could ask for clarification.

The mood was indescribable. Nervous, anxious, and at a loss. Suddenly, I saw someone around the queue was re-arranging people. There was dissatisfaction in the crowd and a man in mink said: “They all come from the same family. Yesterday someone queued up all night, and today someone else in the family came so the person who has been queueing up all night can finally rest. This doesn’t affect your ranking.”

Soon after, three or four families were exchanged into the queue through the same method. The man in mink was holding a form and calling someone to ask about their whereabouts. I told my sister that this man, who worked like a ticket scalper, may have a way to put us at the front of the line. I went over to ask for his service but was ignored as he was calling and telling people to hurry up.

The driver came in at a slow pace. I approached him and he assured me everything was okay. He moved alongside the man in mink and when they stood together, I somehow felt safe, knowing that an organization was protecting me.

We were inserted into a front place in the queue. I was repeatedly instructed that I should stand firm and not let people plug in. Let others plug in? Rest assured; I had a tragic sense of swearing to defend the 305 heights to the death [A common Chinese war reference].

After standing still for a moment, a lady who was originally standing behind us strode forward, accusing us of cheating. The man in mink explained as usual that it was a normal substitution. The lady did not buy the explanation and shouted, but no one cared. My sister wanted to explain but I quickly pulled her aside, and told her to not speak, just stand still, as explaining our situation to her would only cause further trouble.

For a moment, I felt as sad when I read Lu Xun [China’s most famous 20th century writer] as an angry teenager. Especially where he wrote that “Chinese dare not face all aspects squarely and will always use concealment and deception to create a wonderful way of escape and think that this is the right way. In fact, by following this way it proves that the national characteristic of the Chinese is cowardly, lazy, and slippery, easy to satisfy, and extremely easy to degenerate.”

At the time, I assumed that I was better than this, and despised the ignorance of all living beings. But now, I was happy to be the vested interest. I counted from the queue three or four times, to ensure that our ranking was among the forty. Our left and right sides were protected by relatives and friends to ensure no one cut the queue.

We waited from six o’clock to about eight. A staff member with a loudspeaker shouted: “Line up! Today there are only forty spots. Our crematorium is small and has only three furnaces running. The place has been overloaded and forty spots are already the maximum. Do not cut the queue and the staff will come to register you in a while.”

I spotted the man in mink among several different people gathered to check the list. How many customers did I have today? How many customers did you have today? Did all your customers come? I listened and found out there were eleven people on today’s list. Yesterday they hired an idle man in a neighboring village for 500 Yuan a day to line up here for the night. The next day, customers with the service company had their spots guaranteed, simply by exchanging with the idle man. Nobody complained because nobody was actually cutting in line. I vaguely remembered that the fee for whole service included 3000 for the cost of queueing up.

Sometime after 8 am, a staff member finally came out to maintain order. With a loudspeaker, he told us to queue in one single line. He said that one person per family was allowed, and informal registration would begin soon. Each family elected a representative, and the rest worked as guards.

I counted again and found that our ranking was 36. I felt secure. We then finally registered with staff and got a ranking of 38 (how the two families cut the line remained a mystery). The people who were unlucky were emotional. Some came at four o’clock but ended up not having a spot. Some claimed that someone cut the line.

Hearing this I went to protect my sister. At this point, the knowledge accumulated over many years came to naught, and we quarreled like village women, fighting to the death for our vested interests.

One man had been in same situation for three days and was anxious. However, I could not give up my spot, so while I was full of sympathy, I bowed my head and didn’t speak. Next was a long waiting time for formal registration inside the cremation site. Around half past ten the staff told us to go for lunch as the formal registration could not be finished this morning. Someone asked when the formal registration would be completed and a staff person answered: “It depends on luck. If the furnace does not break and requires no maintenance, the people who are at the end of the line can finish at 6 or 7 pm.”

Looking at the tired demeanor of the staff and listening to her complaining that the cremation site had long been overloaded, we couldn’t bear to dwell on her efficiency again.

After changing shifts to eat and continuing to queue up, at about four o’clock in the afternoon, finally my sister entered that sacred office hall. She checked, registered, filled out forms, and waited. After half an hour, she finally completed the formalities and asked me to pick up the body. I immediately moved my frozen legs and ran over to the driver. The driver was impatient and asked me why so slow and that he had been waiting for me for half a day. “Nonsense,” I said, “if I don’t complete the formalities, me coming to you will be useless.”

I thought that if the driver had one more nonsense take, I would put him in the furnace for cremation as well. After seeing that I looked sad, he smiled, did not speak, and helped carry the body off the car. He then said that he would leave now as his work was finished today. When he turned around, I still gently said: “Thank you, for your hard work.” We could only manage one last image of the deceased in the small hallway and, under the urging of the staff, hastily said goodbye to our uncle. The whole process lasted two minutes, because people were still queuing up.

A memory from childhood came to me. Third uncle took me swimming, and I collided with another child. He went to avenge me. When uncle saw the boy at the bottom of the pool, he stepped on him, and waited until he saw air bubbles before removing his feet. When he let the kid up, he apologized for not seeing the boy and said the boy should go elsewhere to play. The kid was at a loss for a while, crying and looking for his father.

When we went home from swimming, we didn’t have money to buy a bus ticket. So, third uncle used my cute little face to butter up the young female conductor, and we successfully took the bus without a ticket. When he took me to the beach, we ended up not swimming but stabbing a hornet’s nest together. All kinds of memory rushed to me. Third uncle had been quite unreliable, ever since he was young. He loved to brag, was afraid of trouble, and always spoke instead of acting. But when I thought of him, the memory was always about happy play and other unforgettable events of childhood.

It was sometimes after 7 pm that the cremation process finished, and I remembered the general list that contained eleven people in the hands of the man in mink. I did some rough calculation, and based on an average fee of 30,000, their income for today was 330,000. And all transactions were done in cash and both sides were satisfied by the transactions.

I would like to remember my dear third uncle in this way, who I used to call HuaZibai [informal pet name] when I was a child. May he be well in heaven. Also, please tell your friends that health is important and don’t treat it casually, because now you may not be able to afford to die.

Yesterday I heard the notice that since December 21, 2022, this MiYun cremation site would not accept bodies transported by private citizens from Beijing. As soon as the news came out, I couldn’t help but worry about those who had nowhere to go. Of course, I wasn’t worried about the small team lead by the man in mink, as they could always see the opening for opportunities and raise their prices.

Finally, farewell to Comrade Li Jianhua, I will always remember you.

ORIGINAL POST FROM WECHAT:

2022年12月18号，我三叔不幸故去，十分突然，因为之前有癌症病史，睡梦间撒手尘寰，19号得到妹妹通知，惊讶不可言喻，得知20号即要火化，心中还在想是不是应该停灵三日为好，19日，怀着悲切心情于凌晨五点赶到广安门中医院，接下来的事估计会让我久久难忘。

首先是火化地点在密云殡仪馆，问妹妹怎么那么远，妹妹说:从昨天开始，北京市所有殡仪馆电话都打过了，都需要提前预约，长的像八宝山一个月以后，短的有一周的，昨天三叔病逝，一直打120，没车来，答复是没有医院能存，都满了，惊讶之余问，那怎么办?被告知人要放家里自己保存，这一下慌了神，自己保存?放冰箱里吗?逐开始哀求，承诺花多少钱都行，最少也先要把人拉倒停尸房寄存有位不知名女同志，估计平常就是个修行菩萨，说要不找一条龙殡葬服务公司的人，看看有什么办法。随后赶紧联系，这期间被告知可拉到广安门中医院寄存，心中稍宁，与一条龙的沟通结果是，三万八不还价，服务包括拉人去火葬场一万，火葬场排队(保证你能烧上)二千，在太平间寄存一夜五千，算算觉得对不上钱数，逐问，被告知，爱拉不拉，现在火葬场都是满负荷状态，有的人排不上队只能停灵在家，有的有一周时间了。问还包括什么，被告知，骨灰盒自买，火化钱自付，都不在三万八之列，随后一句:”拉不拉?”“拉拉拉”，千恩万谢，觉得自己还算幸运。

第二日，广安门中医院，这灵车来的很早，一个瘦高男子默不作声往电梯里扔棺材，一个两个三个四个。。。，我们沉浸在悲切中大家都有点默然，这时司机说赶紧下去把人拉上来，大家七手八脚去坐电梯，突然司机喊了一嗓子，由于我没听清，加上他的口音，我也大声询问，你说什么?他一开始没说话，后来跟了一句:“快点着，别磨叽”，我心说，这哥

们儿怎么这么丧啊?家属都在悲切中，他跟训三孙子似的不怕挨揍吗?时间紧急，顾不得许多，下到太平间，我不知道应该用什么词汇来形容，尸横遍野，不，满地更贴切一些，地方密密麻麻躺满了，我原以为像以前一样，逝去的人是在那些小冰柜里，不解间，太平间的师傅说了一句，太多了，家属抓紧时间看一眼吧，别耽误太长时间。原来三叔三万八已经放到车上而不是躺在地上去，我想这应该就是 VIP待遇了。草草收拾了一下，棺材盖盖，众人齐力把棺材送进了灵车，这期间司机一直在

旁指挥着这些没什么经验的临时工。完成这道工序后，司机说了一句，赶紧出发，今天要去密云烧，去晚了排不上烧不成别怨我，我不由得心头火起，这位说话真真不招人爱听，但想到之前妹妹说的情况，不敢和人家顶撞，真怕把人给我扔这不管了。大家各开各车一路晓行，五点出发，六点多到了密云殡仪馆院内，远远看见人头攒动，过去一打听，排队，赶紧站在队尾，不一时，坏消息传来，今天只能烧四十个，后面的只能排到明天了，望着不成队形的队列，赶紧过去数了数人数，据不完全统计，我们排在四一三四位，这时妹妹赶紧和司机联系，回复说，昨天还没事，今天改规矩了，实在烧不了的话可以拉倒怀来去烧。又说让等一会，他们领导来了问一下，此时此刻，心情无法形容，紧张，焦虑，茫然无措。这时候看见有人在队列四周往里安排人，周边不满之声四起，一个穿貂的哥们儿说，这都是一家子，昨天排了一夜，站不住了，换个人排，没影响你们的排位。半刻间，用同样手法挤进去

换出来三四家了，一边还拿着表格，不停打电话问到哪了?过来了吗?我和妹妹说，这个类似票贩子的人类精英应该有办法把我们往前排，过去打招呼，置之不理，自顾自打电话催人，原本想着加钱，加钱，加钱，此刻也说不上话。又过了一会，司机缓缓而来，马上围过去，他说没事，我在找我们领导，当他和貂儿站在一处那一刻，我不知怎么竟会由衷升起一

纳找到了组细的安仝咸，对久空，▽从前排往

后数了一遍，把我们插到了稍稍提前的位置，反复叮嘱，站好了，别让人插进来，插进来?放心，我当时都有誓死捍卫305高地的悲壮感，站定不一刻，原先站在我们后面的一个女士大步上前，指责我们怎么能往前挪，貂总解释如常，换人而已，女士不干，大声呵斥，没人应答，我妹妹想解释，我赶紧拉着她，别说话，就这排着，不分辨，越描越黑，一瞬间，悲从中来，少年时看过鲁迅，那时正赶上愤青年代，意气风发横眉竖指，当时那句:”中国人不敢正视各方面，总是会用瞒和骗，造出奇妙的逃路来，而自以为正路。其实在这条路上，恰恰证明了国民性的懦弱、懒惰而又巧滑，容易满足，又极易堕落。”当时自觉的自己超脱于此般俗尘，极其看不起众生愚昧，而此时，却

有一股既得利益者的沾沾自喜，从队头数到队尾前后三四遍，确保我们在四十之列，左右家里亲戚朋友作为护法，以确保无人插队，从六点等到八点左右，一工作人员大喇叭喊话，都排好都排好，今天只有四十个名额，这里规模小，只有三个炉，这几天已经超负荷运转了，四十个已经是最大限度了，不要插队，一会工作人员会去登记。此时我看到貂总和几个形色各异的头脸人物凑在一起对名单，你几个?我几个，都来没来。我凑近一听，貂总今天的名单上有十一人，他们昨天五百一天的费用雇好了临近村中闲汉，在这里排一晚上，第二天只要是走他一条龙的VIP们就能在这兵家必争之地争得一席之位，方法为乾坤大挪移换人法，此法虽然招骂，不明就里之人也没脾气，确实不是加塞儿，我依稀记得，一条龙里包括占地儿费用三千。

八点多钟，终于有工作人员出来维持一下秩序，而仅仅是大喇叭喊到，排成一排，只能有一个人排队，一会开始登记。每家选出代表，其余人左右守护，期间，又有分配不均之组织头目在一块小掐了一下。利益面前，当然要保证自己的票子稳妥进兜，因为没人愿意花了三万八还要去怀来。我又重头数了一遍，三

小由瑞宝 而刻三 致工体计到站。四刻后，终于统计到找

们，代号三十八号(中间如何被钻进去俩家没有看到)，我们后面俩家之后群情激奋，说自己四点就来了，如何反而排名靠后，有人说我刚刚数过我是三十八号，有人加塞不干不干，我一听用手护住妹妹，您爱几号几号，我们登记以了，您有情绪找前面发去。此一刻，多年所沉淀学识化为乌有，皆村妇吵架，为既得利益悍不畏死之感。后面之人无法证明谁谁谁插队，悻悻然找到四十号家属，吓得四十号赶紧说:”我没插队我没插队，我昨天就来排队了”，略显滑稽。那哥们儿称，没事我就问问这回您是队尾了吧?我就黏您后边，谁插队都不行，我豁出去排一宿，看看明天是不是第一个。后来细问，已经三天了，确实着急，想想这事也不能让，满眼同情低头不语。

接下来是漫长的等待登记时间，十点半左右工作人员问我们，都多少号，纷纷报号，遂和我们说吃饭去吧，今天上午肯定办不完了，问:几何能办完?答:看运气吧，如果炉不坏，不用维修，你们靠后的这些六七点能完事。看着工作人员疲惫神态，听着她嘴里抱怨着早就超负荷了，我们不忍心再去纠结她效率的问题。

换班吃饭，继续排队，下午四时许，终于妹妹进入到了那间神圣的办事大厅，查验、登记、填表、等待。过了半个小时，终于办完手续，让我去接人，我马上挪动冻僵的双腿跑过去，司机已不耐烦，说我，这么慢?等你们半天了，我说废什么话，不办完手续我过来有蛋用?当时想，这小子再多一句废话我把他也搁炉子里，那人微一愣，看我面相到有几分志同道合之丧劲儿，一笑没说话，帮忙把人抬下车，撂一句没我事我走了，算是完成了他今日工作，在他转身之际，我还是轻轻说了句谢谢，辛苦了。

由于特殊时期，众人只能在小厅瞻仰仪容，在工作人员的催促下草草与三叔告别，历时二分钟，因为后面还有人排队，小时种种此刻映入脑海，带我去游泳，我和一个小孩子掩

到了 他去替我报仇，看见那孩儿在池底滔

行，他一脚踩上去，等到冒泡了才收脚，那孩子起来一看是个大人，还一个劲给他赔不是宝贝儿，对不起，没看见你，去那边玩去吧。喝了一嘴漂白粉的小子一时无措，哭着找他爹去了。游完泳回家时没钱买公共汽车票，他居然用我小时候乖巧可爱的小脸去讨好年轻女售票员，结果成功蹭了个车，带我去海边，没游着泳倒是一起捅了个马蜂窝，种种事情涌上心头，从年轻时就挺不靠谱的一个人，爱吹牛，怕惹事，语言永远多于行动，但是不知为什么想起他，都是开心的玩耍，都是小时候难忘回忆。很抱歉，在特殊时刻只能用这种方式送走你，但是也别懊恼，毕竟你是三十八号，相对于一些人已经很幸运了。

火化完成时间到了晚上七点多，我想起那个貂总今天手里十一人大名单，粗略算了一下，按平均三万计，当日进账三十三万，这要是连续作战一个月，…。而且都是现金交易，大有愿打愿挨之势，我想，当满手的钞票数起。来时的那种满足感，肯定会化解这火葬场里的阴郁之气。

到这里，我想以此方式来缅怀我亲爱的三叔，小时候经常叫他华子伯(bai)，愿他在天堂安好。另外，也要告诉身边的朋友，健康真的很重要，不要随意对待，因为现在你可能死不起。

另外，昨天听到通知，自2022年12月21日起，本殡仪馆不在接收北京自拉火化人员此消息一出，我不由得担心那些无处可去的人，当然，我不担心貂总的小团队，他们总能见缝插针坐地起价，就冲这能伸能屈的工作态度，在怀来也会闯出一片天地。

最后，永别了李建华同志，我会永远记得你。