This is the sixth essay in my series on Delivering Food: The World of a Female Rider by Wang Wan.
Wang Wan describes in detail the hardships of working under algorithmic pressure: the constant fear of penalties for being late, the wear and tear on her body, and the particular challenges faced by a female rider.
Yet her writing is not filled with despair or hopelessness. Instead, it reveals a certain tranquility. In Wang Wan’s own words, she says that she “feels calm and steady inside.”
Wang Wan left her home village at the age of nineteen and went to Beijing to make a living. Over the years she worked at 17 different jobs—from a printing factory to transporting medical specimens, from cleaning work to waitressing—before eventually becoming a food delivery rider. The job pays better and, more importantly, gives her some degree of control over her time.
As she writes: “Even though this job wears down my body every day, it is the first job that has made me feel steady and secure.”
Wang Wan tells a story about her mother. Once, when she returned to her hometown during the wheat harvest, her mother took 200 yuan from under her bedding and said, “Daughter, I earned this doing odd jobs for people. It’s all for you.”
Wang sensed the pride in her mother’s voice when she said this.
For most of Wang Wan’s childhood, her mother rarely worked outside the home. First she took care of her children, and later her grandchildren. In the past two years, after her grandchild grew older and required less care, she finally had time to take on small jobs for others—pulling weeds, planting scallions and garlic, picking chili peppers.
Each time Wang Wan urged her not to go. Her mother would simply smile and say nothing. After listening for a long while, she would gently reply, “I can make 80 yuan a day. That’s better than sitting idle at home.” As of today, 80 yuan is equal to $11.65.
Wang Wan refused the money again and again, but her mother slipped it into her pocket anyway. The next morning, Wang Wan secretly put the money back into her mother’s pocket.
That 200 yuan was more than money. It was proof that her mother could still earn something through her own labor—that she did not need to reach out and ask others for help. Even better, she can help her daughter.
As Wang Wan writes: "Work is how they maintain dignity and decency. It is also how I maintain mine.”
She describes her delivery job this way: “Although my time is broken into fragments and my body slowly wears down, I feel a certain peace of mind. There is always this work that I can return to, and through it I still have a life I can control.”
Another side of Wang Wan’s life is this: she is an avid reader and enjoys writing. Even with long hours of riding, she still finds time for what brings her joy: reading and writing.
Her story reminds us that food delivery riders are not simply the “temporary workers” we often imagine them to be. For many people, this job becomes their final refuge. What they seek is a life in which they can decide when to work and how long to ride, even if that control sometimes comes at the cost of physical wear and tear.
Wang Wan’s story also helps us understand what labor means for people with limited choices. It is not that hardship itself deserves praise. But there is something truly respectable in the determination to support oneself through honest work.
For people like Wang Wan and her mother, work is a way to stand upright in the world—to earn one’s meals through one’s own effort, to live without depending on others, and to maintain a sense of dignity.
In a modern society filled with many safety nets, welfare and conveniences, keep in mind that this simple desire—to support oneself through one’s own work—still remains one of the most fundamental sources of human dignity.
3/11/2026