Q: Why is Rushan Silver Beach called a ghost town?
A: It must have been many years ago that Rushan Silver Beach came to be called a ghost town; it isn’t a ghost town now. As for why it was called that: first, because Silver Beach always had many buildings and few people, and in winter it was emptier still; second, because during the mask era it was hard for people to move about and few came to Silver Beach — the two together made it seem like a ghost town. But after the masks the numbers recovered quickly; especially in summer, there are always plenty of people coming to holiday, and the small businesses here are fairly busy too. But that’s only in summer; in winter it’s as quiet and empty as ever, one or two households to a building is everywhere, which suits people who love quiet very well.
Q: What are tides?
A: People who live inland have never seen the tides, but for people by the sea the tides are a daily matter, and extremely important — many things are tied to the tides, such as foraging the shallows and going to the country market. In a single day there are two high tides and two low tides. Anyone with a little knowledge of mathematics will know what the sine and cosine curves look like; tides are like those curves, with a phase every six hours. And every fifteen days there’s a spring tide, at the first and fifteenth of the lunar month (the biggest spring tides usually lag by two or three days). And so it goes, round and round. So people who live by the sea must keep the lunar calendar firmly in mind. Man has made a connection with the sun and the moon.
Q: How do you watch the sea, admire the moon, and see the sunrise and sunset?
A: To watch the sea, of course go at high tide; at low tide there’s only the beach left. At the start of the month it’s a new moon, rising and setting together with the sun; on the fifteenth it’s a full moon — the sun sets and the moon rises. To see “over the sea grows the moon bright,” go at dusk on the fifteenth and look east. For the daily sunrise and sunset times, consult a table. At the summer solstice the sun is farthest north; at the winter solstice, farthest south. Because south of Silver Beach is the sea and north of it is land, coming to Silver Beach to watch the sunset in winter is the loveliest of all, and the best place to watch the sunset at Silver Beach is in its west. The best place to watch the sunrise at Silver Beach is in its east. Silver Beach’s west has a peninsula, so the sun doesn’t actually set into the sea there. Here you absolutely must know a fair amount of geography and astronomy — and truths you’ll only understand after living here a year.
Q: What is foraging the shallows, and what can you gather at Silver Beach?
A: Foraging the shallows means going out on the beach at low tide to dig or pick up seafood; generally you only get more at a spring low tide. So you must keep an eye on the tide tables. Silver Beach’s shore is very gentle, and mostly sandy, with few rocks, so there isn’t much seafood — mainly clams and razor clams (razor clams mostly in winter), plus some little crabs and mantis shrimp; other things like starfish, spoon worms and octopus are rare, and there are sea anemones but no one eats them. At Silver Beach foraging is only for fun; you can’t make a living from it. The local fishermen make their living from oysters; Rushan oysters are famous throughout the country. The best place to forage is the beach in front of the Foreign Affairs University in the east of Silver Beach. But in summer Silver Beach has many people and the beach is crowded, so foraging isn’t much fun; only in winter, when there are few people, can you focus on it and get a good harvest.
Q: Who are the people at Silver Beach?
A: Silver Beach is in Baishatan Township, Rushan; the township government is at Baishatan village, and there’s a primary school, a middle school and a high school (Silver Beach Senior High). Silver Beach is a tourist resort. By my observation (not official data), 20 percent are local residents (mainly farmers and fishermen), 70 percent are old people from out of town living here a while (they’ve all bought houses here; some live here long-term, some come for the summer holiday), and 10 percent are young people lying flat (most stay only a while). The local villagers’ compound (resettlement housing, apartment blocks, with central heating) and the outsiders’ compounds (the vast majority without central heating) are kept separate. The farmers’ old villages (single-storey houses with courtyards) have mostly been abandoned. The outsiders were at first mainly Northeasterners, later people from the Beijing-Tianjin-Hebei region and Jiangsu-Zhejiang-Shanghai, and still later quite a few from the interior provinces (such as Chongqing).
Q: What is a tourist resort, and what’s the climate at Silver Beach like?
A: A so-called tourist resort is a place that has plenty of people on holidays and none when it’s not a holiday. Holidays mean the summer holidays, July and August. Apart from the locals, the outsiders all come and go: they leave when it turns cold and come back when it warms up. December, January and February are when there are fewest people; June, July and August the most, and August is the peak. In winter the coldest reaches minus 13 degrees (though minus 10 is rare); in summer the hottest reaches 34 (though above 32 isn’t common). Apart from July, when there’s a good deal of rain and the weather is muggy, sticky and damp, the other months are dry. There’s a great deal of wind by the sea, and the north wind in winter is especially fierce.
Q: What’s winter like at Silver Beach, and what’s summer like?
A: Silver Beach is a place with four distinct seasons: March, April and May are spring, September, October and November are autumn, and spring and autumn are the most comfortable, with few people too. But in winter, because the vast majority of compounds have no central heating, few people stay, and the compounds are empty and very quiet, one or two households to a building, and at night it’s utterly silent, and the streets and the shore very quiet too. In summer, because the children are on holiday in July and August, there are a great many tourists, the beaches are packed tight, and the sea is full of people like dumplings in a pot; the streets are full of cars, the restaurants are all open, and the compounds have quite a few people too, with more lights on at night — though most of the flats are still empty.
Q: What are house prices at Silver Beach like, and what about rents?
A: The average price of secondhand flats at Silver Beach has already fallen to RMB 2,000 a square meter, and there’s room for it to fall further. And for walk-ups (most compounds are walk-ups), the higher the floor the cheaper (the fifth, sixth and seventh floors and attics), and a two-bedroom flat can even be had for a few tens of thousands of RMB. In another two years it should be cheaper still. As for new flats (fewer, mostly elevator high-rises), some are still RMB 7,000 to 8,000; those are for rich people to buy. Renting is of course cheaper — for an annual rent of three or four thousand RMB you can rent a large two-bedroom flat. Because Silver Beach’s landlords are basically all outsiders who mostly don’t live here long-term, buying or renting mainly goes through an agent.
Q: What’s the transport at Silver Beach like, and what about medical care?
A: Coming to Silver Beach from out of town is fairly convenient; there’s a slow-train railway station, and now a high-speed rail line too. If you want to travel far and fly, you can go to Qingdao or Yantai (Weihai is not recommended), and from Qingdao or Yantai there are also coaches to Silver Beach. From Silver Beach to downtown Weihai is also convenient, with several coaches every day, taking only an hour and a half for RMB 30 — fewer coaches in winter, more in summer. Living at Silver Beach it’s best to have your own transport — a car, a low-speed electric cart, an e-bike or a bicycle all do, while walking takes rather a lot of time. From Silver Beach to Rushan’s city center there’s a bus, but the buses are very far apart, and there are none at night. There are very few hospitals, all at township level (the Binhai New Area Hospital, the Silver Beach Hospital); if you need long-term medication or worry that help won’t come in time, it’s not advisable to come.
Q: What work can you find at Silver Beach?
A: It’s very hard to find work at Silver Beach, because Silver Beach’s high season is only two months and the rest of the year there are very few people. The people who live here long-term are either retired old people, who don’t need work, or young people lying flat, who don’t work or work online. As for everything else — real-estate agents, takeout (the people here don’t order takeout), couriers, decoration, restaurants, building materials, street stalls — all depend on the flow of people here, and with no people, of course, no money is to be made. Now the real-estate industry is doing badly, and the related work is all shrinking. The locals make their living from farming and fishing. “Weihai has no young people” — a bit of an exaggeration, but also a fact.
Q: Are there young people at Silver Beach? Can you find a girlfriend?
A: There are no young people in all of Weihai. At Silver Beach too it’s mainly old people, especially in winter, when there’s almost no sign of the young; in summer you see a few, but not many. The ones who come on holiday leave soon, and the ones who come to lie flat don’t stay long either; those who can stay at Silver Beach long-term are all people who aren’t short of money and can bear the loneliness. Silver Beach doesn’t have the places a big city has for young people to enjoy themselves — no KFC, no McDonald’s, no cafés, no 7-Eleven, no bars, no exhibition halls, no big malls, no cinemas, no gyms — and they can’t find work here either. Girls are even rarer. At Silver Beach you have to cast desire aside; if you can’t bear it, then go to a big city! Still, in the east of Silver Beach there’s a junior college with quite a few young people, and bubble-tea shops, where outsiders can go to grab a bite.
Q: How do you go to the market at Silver Beach?
A: Silver Beach has many country markets, named after the various villages — the Gongjia market, the Gongjiazhuang market, the Changjiazhuang market, the Xiaotan market — located near each village; the dates follow the lunar calendar, and the markets open in rotation, e.g. the Changjiazhuang market on the first and sixth of the month and the Gongjia market on the third and ninth (nineteenth, twenty-ninth). Every day at least two markets are open, so just go to the nearest one. Some markets are big, some small; at the markets it’s mainly farm produce, and also breakfasts, hardware and clothing. Besides these, Silver Beach also has several night markets, but in the low season many are closed; the Yinlong Bay night market is open every day, though in winter very few people set up stalls.
Q: Is the sea at Silver Beach blue? Is the water clean?
A: I’ve never been to Hainan, and never been to Southeast Asia; I’ve only seen the sea there in photographs and films. Compared with the sea there, Rushan’s sea may not count as blue, but to me it’s clean and clear, especially in autumn and winter, with a deep, profound blue. But in summer there are many people and the seawater isn’t so clear, and the beach gets trodden dirty. And in June and July there’s an invasion of seaweed, like the sea lettuce from the south, which causes some pollution and makes the seawater and the shore not very pretty or very pleasant-smelling. It also depends on the weather: when the weather’s good the sea is blue, when it’s bad the sea is murky. Swimming is no problem, and you can eat the seafood freely.
Q: Watching the sea every day, don’t you get bored? What do you do every day?
A: So long as you have things to do, you won’t be bored. The sea never grows tiresome, and neither does the sunset; the sunrise you can’t get up for. The sea is different every day, and so is the sunset. Every day, besides cooking (done in ever-changing ways), there’s exercise (walking, cycling), and you can also keep a diary (I wrote every day for the first year), study English (in the second year I studied a little every day), and make videos (editing clips, writing scripts, and earning a little money). The most important thing is to rest well; I came to the seaside for the sake of a glad heart. After two years at least, I still don’t find it tiresome or boring — so long as I don’t have to worry about a living, I can stay here forever.
Q: So how do you support yourself?
A: I have savings; even without working I can live carefree for many years, and I need only look after myself. On the premise of not worrying about a living, I think I can do only the things I like, and see whether the things I like can bring me some income. At any rate, making videos earns a little money. And I can live a very low-desire life, with extremely low spending; the whole year’s expenses won’t exceed RMB 15,000. That is, by increasing income and cutting costs, I think surviving is no great problem. In modern society a person shouldn’t live merely to survive; a person should be able to live a little more freely. Of course, freedom isn’t doing just as you please.
Q: What on earth is freedom?
A: I’ve thought about this question for a long time too; perhaps what I’ve been pursuing all my life is freedom. But everyone defines freedom differently; whether among my elders or my juniors, and at every stage of a person’s life, his definition of freedom differs. But in the year after I quit, my new understanding of freedom went a step further, and became simpler too (simplicity is the soul of wisdom): freedom is very simple — it’s “not being afraid.” In fact this understanding has run through everything all along; I’ve only distilled it out. I’ve always liked Zhuangzi, but it was only when I quit that I thought this question through: freedom was long ago spoken of by Zhuangzi — fearing nothing, free and natural. Of course, to achieve this is also very hard; it takes not only material security but also a broad, open spirit — neither can be lacking.
Q: People are creatures of desire; what’s the point of a low-desire life?
A: People are indeed creatures of desire, but if a person has no self-control, then he’s no different from a beast. A low-desire life comes partly from various constraints, but it also involves self-restraint, and a low-desire life really does have its benefits much of the time. For instance, eating less and eating lightly; living in the country by the sea, far from the city of desire, with fresh air, close to nature, with the sea, sun, moon and stars, and green everywhere you look; not working — though you earn a little less, the pressure is smaller too; all of this is good for your health. A low-desire life is sometimes in pursuit of a healthier, simpler life; conversely you could say it’s a kind of high desire. Of course, everyone must also take their own actual situation into account; whichever life you live, you should live it willingly and happily.
Q: I hear you have almost no social life — don’t you feel lonely?
A: People often ask me, are you a social-phobe? My standard answer is, I’m not a social-phobe, I’m just tired of socializing. I just realized comparatively early that people cannot understand one another, and I’m too independent — I can perfectly well live alone, so there’s no need to socialize. I think the relationship between people is best like going to a supermarket to buy something: the price is clearly marked, and the transaction can be done without saying a word. People’s dealings with one another should also be completely frank, but in reality that’s impossible. I’m tired of trying to read others’ minds, and I detest scheming still more; at the same time I like quiet and like to be alone, so I don’t socialize. Not socializing is instead a kind of release for me. If I could live forever without socializing, I’d be glad to.
Q: Living alone, what if you fall ill?
A: First, I’m very confident about my body; I think I won’t fall ill before I’m seventy. This is confidence, and also courage — with many things, so long as you don’t think about them, they won’t happen (a bit superstitious, but it really works). Then too, I don’t go to work, my pressure is small, I exercise often, eat healthily and sleep enough, so it’s very hard to fall ill. Second, if I do fall ill, a minor illness I’ll tough out, a major one I’ll let go. And what about an illness neither minor nor major? If I really can’t bear it, I’ll go to hospital. It’s nothing but a matter of money, so earn more money. Having chosen to live alone, you must be able to bear the difficulties that living alone may bring.
Q: How do your parents see you? Don’t they interfere in your life?
A: I don’t care how others see me, my parents included; no one can interfere in my life, my parents included. I live for myself, not for others — or at least I live first for myself, and then for others. So how my parents see me, I don’t care; how strangers see me, I care even less. In the end, it’s still courage — don’t care about others’ eyes. How do you manage not to care about others’ eyes? It’s simply standing on your own feet. To put it vulgarly, it’s earning more money. So long as I can support myself, I won’t be subject to others — materially and spiritually, I am independent.
Q: Looking back now on the decision to quit, have you ever regretted it? What do you think of Beijing?
A: I have never regretted any decision I’ve made. An adult must take responsibility for his decisions; whatever the future holds, it’s what you yourself chose. I can even say I’m proud of this decision — I’m braver than many people. As for Beijing, I’m glad I left it. I lived there seven years, with joys and sorrows, and it was a fine experience. But I prefer the countryside; I’m a country child, and I’ve never got used to city life, especially a great metropolis: in the city I’m not natural, the city is like a huge cage that keeps me from stretching out; I prefer the wide world, close to nature, far from crowds.
Q: After two years by the sea, what have you gained, and what are your plans for the future?
A: After two years by the sea I’ve thought one thing through, and that is that a person can, after all, do without going to work. Even if you don’t work, you won’t starve. Life has many roads you can take; you don’t necessarily have to work, to be a beast of burden for some capitalist. Life is open country, not a railway track. A person should stay where there is no ceiling. In short, in the future I don’t want to work either; I just want to drift on like this, and be an “idler.” What are my plans for the future? I may change places and go to “the South of the Colorful Clouds” — Yunnan; everyone says the climate there is the best and the most livable, and I want to see it with my own eyes and experience it myself.