Sanhe Sub-District

Hidden within the vibrant tapestry of Shenzhen, the Sanhe Sub-District whispers tales of a bygone era. A stark contrast to the gleaming skyscrapers and bustling tech hubs, Sanhe Sub-District once housed a unique community of migrant workers known as the “Sanhe Gods.” These workers, mostly men, lived a precarious existence on the fringes of China’s economic boom. The name “Sanhe Gods” comes from a prominent labor recruitment agency in the area and is tinged with both affection and irony. Their philosophy, “Work one day, play for three,” reflects their transient lifestyle. They drifted between short-term jobs, often returning to the familiar streets of Sanhe Sub-District after stints in factories across the Pearl River Delta. Sanhe Sub-District, nestled between Longhua Sanlian Road and Donghuan First Road, became their sanctuary. A place where cheap hostels, noodle stalls, and internet cafes formed a fragile ecosystem. The internet cafes offered not only entertainment but also a form of shelter. Gaming chairs provided a place to rest for the price of an internet connection. However, this “living in the moment” facade masked a harsh reality. Many Sanhe Gods were “left-behind children” with limited education and mounting debts. Some even resorted to selling their ID numbers or taking out fraudulent loans, a state of desperation they called “guabi.” Their meager earnings barely covered the cost of basic necessities. The government’s focus on economic growth and technological advancement often overlooked their plight. Shenzhen’s Five-Year Plan, with its promises of a booming economy and high per capita GDP, offered little solace to those living hand to mouth. The gentrification of Sanhe Sub-District, driven by the “Urban Village Comprehensive Management Action Plan,” further marginalized the Sanhe Gods. Cheap hostels were demolished, unlicensed employment agents targeted, and internet cafes restricted. The pandemic accelerated this process, pushing the Sanhe Gods into government-run rescue stations. Today, the physical traces of the Sanhe Gods have largely disappeared. The area has been sanitized, with slogans of “struggle culture” replacing the raw realities of their lives. Rental houses now boast management supervision boards and QR codes for security ratings. The monthly rents in these renovated apartments often exceed the Sanhe Gods’ entire monthly earnings. While Jingle Market and Sanhe Sub-District have been transformed, the struggles of the Sanhe Gods continue. Many have moved to other industrial zones, carrying their red buckets, symbols of hope and resilience, to Kunshan, Wuxi, and beyond. Their story, though fading from the walls of Sanhe Sub-District, serves as a poignant reminder of the human cost of progress.